lax.
Aside from providing feed and water for the cattle and taking care of the horses, they spent most of their time repairing and maintaining equipment.
He tuned out their conversation and instead found himself thinking about Mandy. He’d been surprised when she’d called him two nights before just to chat. Brody didn’t just “chat” with anyone, but he’d found it impossible to remain stoic and distant with her. She was so bubbly and happy, and he found her remarkably easy to talk to.
They’d discussed the people they knew and their love of the small town of Bitterroot. He’d told her about the latest movie he’d seen and she talked about how many people loved ketchup on their scrambled eggs.
“Earth to Brody,” Sawyer said, pulling Brody out of his thoughts.
“Sorry. What did you say?” Brody asked.
“We want you to talk to Cassie about putting up a new shed first thing in the spring,” Mac said.
“You know we had plans to replace the old one when we pulled down the storm-damaged one, but discovering those skeletons put everything on hold,” Sawyer added. “And as you also know, we need the extra storage space.”
“We can’t do anything before spring, but I’ll mention it to her,” Brody replied at the same time his cell phone rang.
He frowned and dug it out of his pocket, surprised to see Mandy’s number. Why would she be calling him this early in the morning? He didn’t mind her calling him occasionally, but not during work hours. He excused himself, got up and walked away from the men at the table. He then answered.
“Brody, my father is dead.” Her voice exploded over the line, a combination of horror and tears. “He’s...he’s in his chair and somebody murdered him...they slashed his throat and...and blood...there’s so much blood.”
Every muscle in his body tensed. “Mandy, have you called Dillon?”
“I... No, not yet.” There was a long moment of her weeping.
“Mandy, call Dillon and when he arrives, don’t say anything to anyone and don’t touch anything. I’ll be right there.” Brody hung up and hurried over to Sawyer and Mac. “I’m heading out and I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“What’s going on?” Sawyer asked.
“Mandy Wright’s father has been murdered.” Brody didn’t waste time saying another word. He hurried out the door and ran to the shed that held the cowboys’ personal vehicles.
The cold air was biting, but not as cold as the thoughts that flew through his head. George Wright murdered? There was no way in hell Brody believed Mandy was responsible for her father’s death.
Others would say she had opportunity and some would believe she had motive. Brody certainly wasn’t a lawyer, but she would be the first suspect unless the killer had left a specific calling card.
He knew what it was like to be a suspect. He and all the other men who worked the Holiday Ranch had been suspects first in the seven murders that had taken place so long ago and then more recently when one of their own ranch hands had been murdered. It was easy to appear guilty of a crime even if you had nothing to do with it.
He drove like a bat out of hell, the sound of Mandy’s horrified weeping echoing in his head. He never wanted to hear another woman crying with that kind of pain and terror.
Terror... Oh God, was the murderer still in the house with her? Was she in danger right now? Damn, he should have told her to get out of the house.
He slowed long enough to turn in to the long driveway that led to the Wright home. The morning sun shone bright on the white paint of the two-story house.
He recognized both George’s and Mandy’s cars and realized he had beaten Dillon and his men to the scene of the crime. He parked and hurried out of the truck. He raced to the front door and knocked. It opened and Mandy flew into his arms.
She buried her face in the crook of his neck as deep sobs wrenched through her. He held her tight and stroked her back in an effort to calm her.
“It’s going to be okay, Mandy,” he murmured.
“No, it’s not,” she cried. “He’s gone and now I’ll never have the chance to have a better relationship with him. Nothing is ever going to be okay again.” She cried even harder and there was nothing Brody could do to comfort her other than hold her while she wept.
He was still holding her when Chief of Police Dillon Bowie arrived along with two other patrol cars and three of his men. As they parked and then approached the house, Brody finally released Mandy.
“Brody,” Dillon greeted him with a touch of surprise in his gray eyes and then turned toward Mandy. “Where is he?”
“In the family room,” Mandy replied and began to cry again.
The four men went into the house, and Brody led Mandy through the small living room and into the kitchen. “Sit,” he said and gently pushed her down into one of the chairs at the table.
He noticed the nearly full coffeepot on the counter and searched the cabinets until he found two mugs. He poured them each a cup and then sat next to her.
Tears clung to her long lashes as she wrapped her fingers around the coffee mug. “I don’t believe this is happening.” She gazed up at him, her eyes dark and pain-filled. “Please tell me this is a nightmare and I’m going to wake up and everything will be fine.”
“You know I can’t tell you that,” he replied with a gentleness he hadn’t even known he possessed.
She stared down into the mug for several long minutes. The only sounds in the room were the low male voices drifting in from the family room.
“Tell me what you did last night.”
Once again she looked up at him, this time with a tiny frown line etched across her brow. “I worked at the café until about six and then went shopping. I got home about eight, wrapped some presents and went to bed.”
“Alone?”
He regretted the question the minute it left his lips. A flash of new pain radiated from her eyes. “Yes, alone,” she replied curtly.
At that moment Dillon walked into the kitchen. “Mandy, I’m so sorry for your loss. We’re waiting now for Teddy to arrive. In the meantime, can I ask you a few questions?” Teddy was Ted Lymon, the medical examiner.
Mandy nodded and Dillon sat in the chair opposite her. “Why would somebody do that to my father? Who would do something like this?” she asked, the words laced with pain.
“That’s what I’m going to try to figure out,” Dillon replied. “Tell me exactly what happened this morning.”
Mandy’s pale face and shaking fingers spoke of her despair as she told Dillon about getting up that morning, dressing and then coming into the house to fix her father breakfast.
“Were any of the doors unlocked?” he asked.
“I know the front door wasn’t because I used my key to get in, and I can see from here that the back door is still locked,” she replied.
“I’ve got Ben looking at all the windows to check if entry was gained through one of them,” Dillon said.
“Do you have an idea of the time of death?” Brody asked.
“Teddy will have to make the official call, but I’d guess sometime in the middle of the night,” Dillon replied. “Which brings me to my next question. I know you were shopping yesterday evening, but what did you do after that?”
“I came home and wrapped some presents...” she began.
“And then I came over and spent the night with her.” Brody was grateful Mandy didn’t look as surprised as he felt as the alibi fell from his