them a favor by scaring her off. That was probably the best-case scenario.
“No one.” Kelsey blinked.
“Not even the front office?” Madelyn pressed. Cattle Barge was a small town. If news had leaked that she was the daughter of Mike Butler then someone could be trying to protect the family. Heck, it could’ve been someone in the family, for all she knew. Was her arrival the tipping point? What about the lawyer reaching out to her? Everyone had to be looked at as a suspect now.
“Well, of course, we have acce—”
“And what about housekeeping?” Madelyn’s hands were fisted at her sides as frustration and fear built inside her, gathering steam. What if she’d been in the room? Would that person have attacked?
“Well, yes—”
“Maintenance?”
Kelsey nodded.
“So you and countless others do have access to my room.” Madelyn was almost to the point of hysterical now. She took in a slow breath that sounded like a hiss from a heating coil.
“Did something happen?” Kelsey caught on. Finally, light brightened her eyes as the insinuation dawned on her.
Part of Madelyn—the frightened child inside her—wanted to deny that any of this was possible. She’d like to write off the whole situation as a bowl of crazy, a landmark bad day. She needed a minute to process the day she was having. More than anything, she needed to hear her father’s—well, hold on now, was Charles Kensington even her father anymore?—voice. But that wasn’t an option. No matter how many times she phoned, he only returned her calls on the first of every month. Today was the ninth.
Madelyn pulled her cell from her purse. She started punching in those three digits reserved for emergencies. This day had emergency stamped all over it.
“Ma’am, what are you doing?” Kelsey asked, her voice low.
“Calling the sheriff,” Madelyn stated as she turned her back on the front desk attendant.
“There’s no need to do that.” Kelsey’s voice had that quiet calm as she slowly spoke, drawing out her words like she was trying to talk someone out of jumping off the roof.
“How do you know? I haven’t told you why I’m here yet.” Madelyn turned toward the glass door in time to see a cruiser pull into the parking lot. He was coming in dark, meaning no lights or sirens.
“I’m sorry. You were so upset and yelling at me, so I hit the panic button my boss had installed under the counter.” Now Kelsey sounded nervous.
“Why would I hurt you?” Madelyn heard the irony there. She was being stalked and Kelsey had hit the panic button over a few direct words. This time she blew out a slower breath that sounded less like a hiss. “It doesn’t matter. Someone broke into my room and I want to file a report anyway. Call and tell them that you hit the button on accident. That we’re okay in here.”
Silence.
“Kelsey, I’m not in the mood to play games. Would I turn my back to you like this if I was here to hurt you? Make the call.” Madelyn swiveled around, hands up. “All I was doing was retrieving my cell so that I could call the sheriff.”
Kelsey gave a nervous smile before she picked up the phone.
* * *
HUDSON COULDN’T STOP thinking about the stranger, about Madelyn. The sheriff had written the incident off too easily as road rage and hadn’t paid enough attention to the fact that she had an angry ex-boyfriend. Even though this wasn’t Hudson’s business, he put away Bullseye and then climbed into his pickup truck. All he planned to do was drive down to the sheriff’s office and put a bug in the man’s ear. Sawmill was distracted and anyone could see that he had too much on his plate. Hudson didn’t plan to insult the sheriff. He’d find a tactful way to plant the seed about her ex.
Twenty minutes later he was pulling into the parking lot. There was media everywhere and a flock rushed his truck until they got a good look at the driver, realized he wasn’t a Butler and dispelled.
He pushed through the mob to the front door, relieved when the lobby was clear. There was a constant hum of chatter from an adjacent room and he suspected that was a “war room” set up for receiving tips and leads on the Mike Butler murder.
“How are you, Hudson?” Doris asked, rolling her eyes at the craziness going on. She was midfifties and the type who made it her personal mission to know what everyone in town—and in his case, just out of town—was up to. She was also an old friend of his mother’s before she’d passed away. Lucky for her Hudson’s mother had died years before she could be embarrassed by her son. Hudson performed a mental headshake. He wasn’t there to think about his own shortcomings and misery.
“Better now that I’ve had a chance to see you.” The line was cheesy as all get-out but Doris didn’t seem to mind.
She smiled so hard her cheeks turned six shades past pink.
“And you’re a flatterer,” she quipped with that smile intact.
Hudson’s gaze drifted to the makeshift command post that had been set up in the adjacent conference room. He heard the buzz of intake volunteers taking calls.
“Looks like you’re staying busy.” He forced his gaze away from the room and back to Doris. He’d read the stories about Maverick Mike and then Ella Butler.
“Us?” Doris glanced around. “Darn right. This town hasn’t seen anything like this in all my considerable years. It’s a train wreck in here, if you ask me. I don’t remember the last time the sheriff left for more than four hours to sleep. His heart won’t take it at this pace.”
Pens were lined up in neat rows on her desk next to a line of pencils. She had a notepad positioned on her desk in front of her and her computer was off to one side. A woman like Doris was old-school and would prefer to write things down over spending her days glued to a screen. Hudson was sure she subscribed to the old thinking that staring at the TV too long could make a person go blind.
“Are you trying to convince me that you’d let things get out of control?” He perched on the edge of her desk and she immediately shooed him off it.
“There are other, more qualified people in town who could act as a consultant if they saw fit.” The insinuation was that he, being from a big city like Houston, would be more equipped to deal with hard-core crimes, like, say murder. Hudson leaned to one side to avoid the proverbial hand grenade being tossed at him. He had no plans to touch that statement. His days in law enforcement were over.
“What brings you all the way into town?” She blinked her eyes up at him like she was ready for him to tell her the sky was falling.
“Can’t I check on my favorite person once in a while?” He wasn’t ready to tip his hand. Gauging from the chaos in the office, the sheriff didn’t have the resources to properly address the reporter’s incident. And that worried Hudson for reasons he shouldn’t care about. He’d done his part, played the role of Good Samaritan. If he had any sense he’d turn around, walk out that door and let a sleeping dog alone.
Instead, he took a seat across from Doris and leaned forward.
“Thanks for the habanero peppers, by the way. Diced some up and threw them in the pan with a pair of eggs this morning. Best breakfast I’ve had in months,” he said.
“There’s something about homegrown that gives ’em that extra kick of flavor.” Her eyes lit up. His mom used to joke that her friend grew a garden in small part to feed herself and in large part so that she could stop by and check on her friends on a regular basis. “If you’d come around more often, I’d send you home with all you want. I always grow more than I can use in case someone’s in need.”
“Now I’m a charity case?” Hudson joked but a pang of guilt nailed him. He’d been content to stick to his ranch.