Roughshod Justice. Delores Fossen

for Travis being behind bars.

      “It’s possibly connected to one of your cases,” Kelly provided.

      He had to nod again. As a Texas Ranger, he had made his share of enemies, and there were at least a half dozen guys behind bars who would want him dead. But this felt, well, personal.

      “Why use you to do this?” Jameson was talking more to himself than her now.

      She groaned softly, but it looked as if she wanted to curse. “I don’t know, and that’s why I need to remember.”

      “Then you should let the doctor examine you again. Maybe there’s something he can give you—”

      “He can’t. I asked,” she added. “He can rule out a brain injury with tests, but even if that is what’s wrong with me, the only treatment is time.”

      Jameson had no idea if the doctor had actually told her that or if it was something Kelly had decided was true. Either way, he couldn’t force her. But he could force her into custody.

      “Until Coy McGill starts talking, I can’t let you leave,” Jameson spelled out for her.

      “Because I’m a suspect,” she readily supplied.

      Great. That brought back the tears. They shimmered in her eyes along with tugging at his heart. And Jameson finally caved in and gave her arm a gentle rub. She noticed, too. She looked down at his hand. Then at him.

      And there it came.

      That old punch to the gut. Jameson had been with plenty of women, but none of them had ever made him feel the way Kelly had.

      And that’s why he took a huge step back from her.

      She noticed what he’d done, and the corner of her mouth lifted. A smile, sort of, but it wasn’t from humor.

      “Plus, you can’t let me leave because Boyer is still threatening that arrest warrant against me,” Kelly added a moment later.

      Bingo. There were a lot of pieces in this mess that didn’t make sense, and Boyer was just one of them.

      The door to the interview room finally opened, and Gabriel came out with the witness, a man named Merrill Stover. He wasn’t a local but rather had been to a nearby ranch to look at some calves that were for sale. Jameson had run a background check on the man while Kelly was with the doctor, and Stover had a squeaky-clean record. No indications whatsoever that he’d had part in whatever the heck had gone on in that pasture.

      Stover started for the door but stopped when he saw Kelly. “Ma’am, I’m real sorry for what happened to you.”

      Kelly pulled back her shoulders. “What did happen to me?”

      Stover glanced back at Gabriel, but he waved off the question. “I’ll fill her in. You’re free to go,” Gabriel assured him.

      The man gave a suit-yourself shrug and left. Gabriel didn’t say a word until he was out the door.

      “I believe what he told me,” Gabriel started. “But before you ask,” he added to Kelly when she opened her mouth, “he didn’t see the actual shooting. Only the aftermath of it.”

      She gave another of those weary sighs and scrubbed her hand over the back of her neck. “So I’m not cleared. Boyer can arrest me.”

      “No, he can’t,” Gabriel assured her. “Well, not without a court order, which I seriously doubt he’ll get. That’s because those two dead men aren’t agents as he claimed. They both had long rap sheets.”

      Finally, Jameson saw some relief on her face. It was short-lived, though. “Why would Boyer claim they were agents?” she asked.

      Gabriel lifted his shoulder. “I tried to call him, but he didn’t answer. I left him a message.”

      Kelly leaned against the wall, and her eyelids fluttered a little. Jameson silently cursed. She was probably dizzy, something he was supposed to be watching for. Not that she’d ever admit it. However, she didn’t balk when he took her by the arm and led her to a chair in Gabriel’s office.