The next four days went by in a haze for Mandy. She made her father’s funeral arrangements and kept in close touch with Dillon about the progress of the investigation. She didn’t know how she would have gotten through it all without Brody as a calm and steady presence beside her.
She’d been shocked when he’d told Dillon that he’d been with her on the night of her father’s murder. He’d gone even further and told the lawman to check with Fred Ferguson, who would attest to the fact that he and Mandy had also been together on the night of the snowstorm.
She now stood at the front door of the house, waiting for Brody to pick her up for the funeral. It was a beautiful afternoon in the midforties. The sun shone brightly and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
Grief had also been a big part of the time that had passed since her father’s murder. She wasn’t sure she grieved for the man himself as much as for the relationship she’d wanted—she’d needed—from him and now would have no opportunity to ever gain.
There were still so many things she had to take care of. She’d been shocked to learn her father had a will on file with an attorney in town and he’d left her everything. In the event of her death her brother would be the beneficiary of what little estate there might be.
Brody had advised her not to make any decisions about things until she’d given herself time to fully grieve, but she’d already decided to clear out the house and put it on the market to sell. She would move to someplace in town, maybe a small house where she could build a life that didn’t include the memories of a father who had been so hateful, a man she’d desperately wanted to love her.
She had no idea how many people might attend the funeral this afternoon. She’d been shocked in the last couple of days to realize how many people disliked her father. She knew how he’d treated her, but she hadn’t known that he’d carried that same hateful attitude outside the house.
As Brody’s truck came up the lane toward the house, she couldn’t help the way her heart beat just a little faster. Although he hadn’t touched her in any way since the day she’d discovered her father dead, he’d been the best kind of friend she could ever ask for, and surely that was why her heart quickened at the sight of him.
She turned and hurried to the kitchen to retrieve her purse from the table. By the time she returned to the front door, he was out of his truck and approaching the porch.
Brody Booth in jeans and a flannel shirt was sexy, but Brody in a dark suit coat and slacks was off the charts. She stepped out on the porch, then closed and locked the door behind her.
“Are you ready for this?” he asked as they walked to his truck.
“I guess I’m as ready as I’m going to be. At least I’ve finally stopped crying all the time.”
He opened the passenger door and she slid inside. The truck interior smelled like him...the pleasant scents of sunshine and the outdoors and his woodsy cologne.
“What have you heard from Dillon?” he asked once he was in the truck and had started the engine.
“He called me last night to ask if I knew anything about a pushing and shoving fight my father had last Saturday night at the Watering Hole.”
“Who was he pushing and shoving with?”
“Lloyd Green. Apparently Dad owed Lloyd some money and Lloyd tried to collect.”
“So, did Dillon say that Lloyd was a suspect in the case?”
“Dillon seems to be playing things close to the vest, but I would assume Lloyd is a suspect.” Lloyd worked for Raymond Humes, but that was about all she knew about the older man.
They fell silent and she stared out the window at the barren winter landscape. What would happen after today? When the ceremony was over, would Brody go his own way?
He hadn’t exactly signed up for all this. Of course, when he’d offered up the alibi to Dillon, he had to have known that he’d bound them together, at least for a little while.
She was shocked by the new piercing pain that shot through her as she thought of going on without Brody in her life. She’d felt so alone before the night of the snowstorm and his friendship was definitely what was helping her get through these horrible, difficult days.
As he turned in to the Bitterroot Cemetery entrance, she was surprised to see a number of cars parked in the lot. There had been no visitation so this was the one and only opportunity people would have to say a final goodbye to George Wright.
They got out of the truck and were greeted by Dillon and Cassie. “Mandy, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Cassie said and took one of Mandy’s hands in hers.
The warmth and compassion in her voice made tears spring to Mandy’s eyes. “Thank you, Cassie.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” Cassie added as she released Mandy’s hand.
Mandy looked at Dillon. “All anyone can do for me now is to help catch the person who’s responsible for my father’s murder.”
“The investigation is ongoing,” he replied.
Julia Hatfield, a waitress at the café, hurried over and pulled Mandy into a tight hug. “Oh, honey, I can’t stay long because I have a shift in a little while, but I wanted you to know I’m so sorry, and you come to me if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Julia,” Mandy replied.
Reverend Wally Johnson walked toward them all, his expression somber and fitting the occasion. “Are we ready to begin?”
Mandy drew in a deep breath and released it, then nodded. It was a bit of a walk to the actual gravesite. Mandy, Brody and Wally led the small crowd over the top of a small rise and then to the place where Mandy’s mother rested.
George would be happy resting next to the woman he’d loved. When she’d died she’d taken so much of what little goodness he’d had with her.
They were trailed by several neighbors, a couple of waitresses from the café, Butch Cooper and two men from the Humes ranch.
Mandy assumed the Humes men might have been her father’s drinking buddies. At least Lloyd Green wasn’t here. Still, her father probably would have opened the door to Lloyd. Heck, her father would have opened the door to most anyone he knew on the night of his murder. There had been no signs of a break-in or robbery and no hard evidence that anyone had been in the house. The killer must have relocked whatever door he’d entered when he was finished slashing her father’s throat.
She glanced up at Brody, so tall and stoic next to her. His very presence helped to calm the tension that had balled up tight in her stomach.
This was it. This was so final. She was now an orphan and she would never, ever be able to get the kind of relationship she’d longed for with her father.
She’d thought she’d cried all the tears in her body, but she’d been wrong. The moment Wally began to speak, tears chased each other down her cheeks.
She would have broken down altogether had Brody not reached out and took her hand in his. The warmth of his hand around hers, the silent support he offered were enough to keep her somewhat in check.
The official ceremony didn’t take long. There were no good friends to speak of George in glowing terms and Mandy had declined to speak. When it was over, she told everyone that they were welcome at the house, where sandwiches would be served.
She didn’t expect anyone to come. Most of these people who had come had done so to show support for her, which she appreciated.
They were about to leave when Aaron Blair and his wife, Sadie, walked over to the two of them. Aaron was a big man with dark hair, and his wife was a willowy blonde who looked as if she could use a good meal. They owned the ranch next to the Wright place,