slowed as she passed the entrance to what appeared to be a fairly large spread. The wooden entry declared it to be the Humes Ranch.
She drove on, nerves suddenly tingling inside her skin as she thought of seeing Nick Coleman again.
Slowing once again as she saw the entrance to another ranch ahead, she realized she’d made a conscious decision to become a stalker. Wendy’s murder had definitely turned her into a woman she scarcely recognized.
She pulled the car to a stop in front of the entrance with the black wrought iron entry that read Holiday Ranch. This was where Nick Coleman worked. This was where he lived. Her stomach twisted with nervous energy.
From her vantage point, she saw a large two-story house and in the far distance lots of outbuildings and men on horseback, but she was too far away for any of the ranch hands to pay attention to a silver sedan parked along the side of the road.
Knowing she was trespassing, she turned into the long driveway and followed the concrete drive and stopped just past the house. She turned off her engine and rolled down her window the rest of the way. She wouldn’t move unless somebody asked her to.
Now she could see a bright blue canopy tent in the distance and knew it probably covered the crime scene—the place where Wendy’s body had been found, along with six other potential victims.
Chief Bowie had told her that Wendy had been found there, but the skeletal remains of six other human beings had been there, as well. She wanted Wendy’s murderer in jail, but wondered what had happened to those other poor souls.
She’d been there only about ten minutes when a cowboy wearing a dusty brown hat walked up to the driver side of her car. “Cassie and Nicolette aren’t home right now. Is there something I can help you with?” he asked.
Adrienne had no idea who Cassie and Nicolette were, and in any case, they weren’t the reason she was here. “I’m just here to keep an eye on the man who murdered my sister.”
The cowboy’s sand-colored eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “There are no murderers here,” he said. “You’ve come to the wrong place.”
Of course he would say that, she thought. He was probably a good friend of Nick’s. “Are you asking me to leave?”
He shrugged broad shoulders. “It’s not my place to ask you to go. I don’t own the ranch.” He turned on the heels of his boots and headed away from the car.
Adrienne narrowed her eyes and tried to discern which of the men in the distance was Nick. She hadn’t really gotten a good look at him the night before. She’d just had a quick vision of blue eyes and slightly shaggy dark brown hair.
It was only when she saw the man who’d come to talk to her take off on horseback and approach another man on horseback that she assumed the second man was Nick Coleman.
The two spoke for a moment and then the second man began toward her. His hat was black, his shoulders broad and he rode a huge black horse that would have characterized him as a villain in any respectable Western.
She gripped her hands tightly together in her lap as he drew close enough that she could see the faint darkness of a black eye where she had hit him the night before.
Good.
She’d managed to mark him with her rage, with her grief.
He pulled his horse to a halt right outside her window, forcing her to lean out and look up at a handsome face with cold blue eyes and a mouth set in a grim line. He was an imposing figure.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Protecting all the other young, vulnerable women in town by keeping an eye on you,” she replied, pleased that her voice rang with steely determination.
“I did not kill your sister,” he said slowly and distinctly, as if speaking to a crazy person.
“I believe you did, and I’m here to make sure that you don’t get away with it.”
He sighed and pulled his hat off his head. His thick dark brown hair glistened in the sunshine, and he raked his hand through it as if she was a flake of dandruff he could easily dislodge with a sweep of his fingers.
“Look, I’m grieving over Wendy, too. I want her killer to be found, but I’m not him. Maybe instead of playing judge and jury, you and I need to sit down and talk and compare notes.”
He placed his hat back on his head. “If you’re looking for the truth in Wendy’s murder, then meet me at the café at noon and we can have a civilized conversation. If you’re looking for an innocent scapegoat, then you can follow me to the ends of the earth and we’ll never know who took Wendy’s life.”
A headache pounded at her temples as she considered his words. At least he’d offered to meet her in a public place where her personal safety would be ensured.
“Okay,” she finally said against her better judgment. “I’ll meet you at the café at noon.”
He nodded, flicked the reins and then took off galloping back to the pasture. She watched him go and realized she’d just agreed to meet a murderer for lunch.
Nick walked into the Bitterroot Café at ten to twelve and was greeted by owner Daisy Martin, who stood behind the cash register. Normally, when he came here for lunch with fellow ranch hands, they all sat at the counter. In recent months, he had often sat in Wendy’s section, but today, he headed for one of the few empty yellow vinyl booths.
He found one toward the back and slid into the side facing the door then placed his hat next to him. He had no idea if Adrienne Bailey would show up or not, despite the fact that she’d said she’d be here.
There was no way to second-guess the actions of a crazy woman, and she’d definitely been crazy last night. He raised a hand to touch his eye, wincing not because it hurt, but because she’d managed to sucker punch him.
He had no idea if he could change Adrienne’s mind about him, if he could convince her that the real killer was still out there somewhere, for now flying under the radar. He had no idea if she’d even listen to a word he had to say.
Jenna Lankford approached his booth, wearing the yellow T-shirt that identified her as a waitress. Jenna was an attractive woman about Nick’s age, and before Wendy, she had always been one of his go-to waitresses because of her warmth and sense of humor.
“If it isn’t one of my favorite cowboys,” she said with a bright smile. She eyed him intently. “At least it’s not as bad as I imagined when I heard the news.”
“What’s not as bad?” Nick asked.
“Your face. Rumor is that you got into a bar fight last night and a woman made mincemeat of your handsome mug.”
“As you can see, the rumors are vastly exaggerated,” Nick replied with a wry grin. “She did manage to hit me once in the eye, but the damage is minimal. In fact, I’m meeting her for lunch. She’s Wendy Bailey’s sister, Adrienne.”
Jenna’s smile faltered, and her blue eyes glistened overly bright. “That poor woman. She must be in such pain. I can’t believe what happened to Wendy. She was one of the most popular waitresses here and made coming to work such fun.” She paused for a moment and then continued, “So you want something to drink while you wait for your guest?”
“I’ll take a root beer,” he replied. What he probably needed was a good stiff drink before interacting with Adrienne again. Unfortunately, the café didn’t serve booze. Besides, he needed to have his wits about him.
“Coming right up.”
He watched Jenna as she walked away from the table, her blond hair caught up in a ponytail that swung side to side with each step she took.
She