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  Most of all she missed Zack.

  “Something smells good in here.”

  The deep voice interrupted her reverie, and she looked up to see her new employer in the doorway wearing a long rain slicker and Stetson. He looked ruggedly handsome, like something out of a cologne commercial, and she wondered a little desperately why she couldn’t have fallen in love with someone like him.

  Despite Zack’s claim that Wade might have been involved in whatever he’d stumbled onto the night he left Salt River, she still couldn’t believe it.

  Wade was nice and safe, and he wouldn’t have made a habit of crushing her heart like it was made of toothpicks.

  She managed to summon a smile. “Beef and barley soup and homemade bread. I know it wasn’t on the week’s menu we worked out, but it seemed just the thing for such a drizzly day.”

  She thought she saw just a hint of irritation flicker across his dark eyes, then he smiled. “That sounds perfect. I’m sure the guests will understand about the change in plans.”

  She cleared her throat, suddenly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. I guess I should have cleared it with you first.”

  “No, it’s fine.”

  At the Lost Creek she had enjoyed full autonomy in the kitchen. If she had wanted to serve cold cereal for dinner, Jean would have just laughed and gone along with it. But she was learning that Wade liked to have a hand in every aspect of his guest ranch.

  She couldn’t really blame him. While only a few miles away on horseback from the Lost Creek, the Rendezvous was in a completely different stratosphere when it came to its guests.

  Wade’s ranch catered to a far more exclusive clientele than the Lost Creek.

  While Jean tried to bring in young families and older people—average folks yearning to experience the romance of the Old West for a while—the Rendezvous attracted movie stars and Wall Street tycoons and media moguls. Movers and shakers who wanted to be close to Jackson without the annoying crowds.

  Her humble beef and barley soup had probably been a lousy idea. Big surprise there. She hadn’t done a single thing right since she came here.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again.

  Wade waved one hand dismissively while he removed his Stetson with the other one. “Don’t worry about it. How are you settling in?”

  Somehow she managed to find another smile. “Fine. Your kitchen is wonderful.”

  Wade studied her for a long moment until she began to squirm, then he smiled. “I hope this doesn’t sound too forward of me but I designed it with you in mind. I always knew you would end up here, one way or another.”

  Okay. This was getting a little creepy. What was she supposed to say to that? She didn’t have the heart to tell him the Rendezvous was just a brief resting place on her journey to her ultimate goal. As soon as the dust settled from this ridiculous murder charge against Zack and he left again, she would make an offer on Murphy’s.

  She would, she assured that hateful little voice raising doubts in her mind. She just needed a little more time.

  “You made the right decision coming here.” Wade moved behind her to grab a bottle of imported water from the refrigerator. “Distancing yourself from that…that son of a bitch Slater was the right thing to do. I tried to tell you he was no-good. Sooner or later, he’ll be arrested for murder. That kind of ugliness should never have to touch you.”

  He reached out and rested his hand on her shoulder, and she fought the instinct to flinch away.

  What on earth was the matter with her? Wade had been her friend for a long time. She shouldn’t have this edginess around him.

  “I’m not so sure about that arrest,” she finally said, compelled to defend Slater even though he clearly didn’t want her involved. “If Jesse had enough evidence against him, Zack would already be in jail.”

  “He will be. Just wait. If there was one thing I learned when I was on the force, it’s that the wheels of justice roll slowly sometimes. But Slater will get what’s coming to him. I guarantee it. He’s going to find out we don’t let men like him get away with killing innocent women around here.”

  Melanie? Innocent? A raw laugh almost escaped her throat, but she swallowed it back just in time, somehow sensing Wade wouldn’t appreciate the irony. More than likely he would be horrified at her callous attitude toward her late sister-in-law.

  Before she could answer, Wade changed the subject. “What are you planning for dessert?”

  The shift in conversation so disoriented her that it took her several moments to gather her thoughts. “I, ah, I’m not sure.”

  A little frown wrinkled his tanned forehead. “Oh. Well, I’m sure it will be something delicious. I’ll check back later. Remember, dinner is at seven sharp.”

  After he shoved his hat on and left, she gazed out once more at the gloomy late-afternoon sky. Dear heavens, she hated it here. She wanted to go home. Not to the Diamond Harte, to the Lost Creek. And to Zack.

  Her fierce longing to see him again—to talk to him, to assure herself he was okay—was a physical ache inside her, grinding away at her spirit.

  She forced her attention back to dinner. She needed to come up with something spectacular for dessert to make up for the soup disaster, and she didn’t have any time to waste wishing for the moon.

  At the Lost Creek she would have served jam and butter with the homemade bread, but she suspected that wouldn’t win her very many points here.

  What about crêpes Suzette? They were relatively easy to make and always generated excitement, what with all that flaming brandy. It might be a little extravagant as a counterpoint to the soup but maybe a little flash wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

  So, brandy. Where could she find some? She did a quick mental inventory of the kitchen supplies she had seen throughout her week of working at the Rendezvous. Wade kept the spirits tucked away in one of the higher cupboards, didn’t he?

  She had to pore through several before she found it. There. Tucked away in a corner of the kitchen, on the top shelf with several other bottles. She pulled a stool over and climbed up, immediately spying the orange liqueur she would also need.

  She was just reaching for the decanter of brandy when she spied something else in the rear of the cupboard.

  A box, no more than six inches long and maybe four inches deep. Small and wooden, it seemed out of place amid the richly colored bottles.

  The wood was smooth, cool in her hands as she picked it up and she heard a clink and rattle from inside. What might be inside? Someone’s forgotten bank stash? Heirloom jewelry? A secret diary?

  Her dark mood momentarily gave way to curiosity as she remembered those rainy days spent with her mother pawing through the old cedar chest.

  This box was also cedar, the kind a woman might keep treasured letters inside. As she worked the catch and lifted the lid, the evocative smell wafted to her.

  She closed her eyes, once more in her parents’ bedroom looking at old photographs and bronzed baby shoes and bits of lace pillowcase her grandmother had tatted as a new bride.

  This box was lined in red velvet, she saw when she opened her eyes again, the contents obviously precious to someone.

  Why? she wondered. It was jewelry all right, but instead of old cameos and pearls that might have belonged to someone’s ancestors, at first glance it seemed to be nothing but cheap costume jewelry. A gaudy necklace, spangled bracelets, a pair of dangly earrings.

  She had seen these things before. She blinked, racking her mind to remember where. A long time ago. Someone she knew had owned similar pieces.

  She couldn’t think who or where or when until she moved them aside and saw something else at the bottom of the pile of trinkets. A photograph, facedown, with no writing on the back.

  She pulled it out, and nervousness skittered down her spine like a closet full of spiders.

  With trembling hands she turned over the picture, then gasped.

  It was a Polaroid of a woman she knew all too well, with dark curly hair
and troubled gray eyes.

  Melanie.

  She wore a tight, flashy dress along with every one of the items in the box.

  And judging by the pool of blood puddling under her head and the empty look in those gray eyes, she was very, very dead.

  CHAPTER 11

  She stared at the box in her hands, vaguely aware of the drumming of her pulse, her rapid, shallow breathing.

  Her mind raced, trying to figure out what it meant. Why would this be here, tucked away in the kitchen of the Rendezvous Ranch? Had Wade somehow been involved in Melanie’s death? Was this box some kind of grisly souvenir?

  Her vision dimmed at the thought, and she had to step down from the stool before she toppled to the ground.

  What other explanation could there be?

  Zack had tried to warn her about Wade, but she hadn’t listened. Now she saw his claims in an entirely different light. Had Wade really been involved in the drug ring Zack said he’d stumbled on the night he left? Had he been one of the men who had brutally kicked and beaten Zack before ordering him out of town?

  She had struggled to believe Zack’s claims. The idea of a mild-mannered, kind man like Wade—a pillar of the community, active in church and civic responsibilities—wrapped up in something so ugly seemed ludicrous.

  It didn’t seem so outrageous now.

  She stared at the picture in her hand, at that beautiful face with the wide, empty eyes, and her stomach churned.

  Had Melanie been linked to the drug activity Zack claimed to have seen? She wouldn’t have been surprised to know her sister-in-law had been abusing drugs. It fit the pattern of an unhappy, self-destructive woman.

  Melanie hadn’t died of an overdose, though, but of a bullet to the brain. Had Wade put it there?

  She began to shiver. Why, in heaven’s name, would he have left this here tucked away in a back cupboard of his kitchen? He must have known she would eventually find it.

  Maybe that’s exactly what he wanted.

  A chill gusted over her, colder than any January wind. Why? Why would he possibly want her to see this?

  No. This must be some kind of hideous mistake. The logical, rational corner of her mind still couldn’t imagine Wade could be capable of this. A box full of costume jewelry wasn’t proof of anything.

  The picture, though. That was a fairly damning piece of the puzzle.

  Jesse. She should call Jesse. He would know what to do. Hands shaking, her breathing ragged, she rushed to the phone hanging on the kitchen wall and dialed her brother’s cellular number.

  She was just punching in the last number when the door opened. She froze, her finger poised above the five, and the box in her other hand just as Wade walked back into the kitchen.

  In one quick movement, she shoved the box behind her back and hung up the phone.

  “Did you forget something?” she asked, hoping he couldn’t hear the panic she tried to hide behind a thin, crackly sheen of false cheerfulness.

  He narrowed his gaze at her, looking from the phone and then back to her. “Is everything okay? You’re looking a little pale.”

  “Fine. Everything’s just fine.” Breathe, she ordered herself as her knees started to wobble.

  “Are you sure? Maybe you need to sit down.”

  “No. I promise, I’m fine.”

  If anyone in her right mind could consider ready to jump out of her skin any minute now at all close to fine.

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  “No. I was…was just trying to figure out what to fix for dessert.”

  “That’s why I came back. I had a couple of suggestions for something to serve after your, uh, delicious soup.”

  If she hadn’t been so terrified, she would have been offended by that not-so-subtle dig.

  “I was thinking a cheesecake might be nice. Or some kind of torte. I believe we have fresh raspberries.”

  She made a noncommittal sound, willing him to leave the kitchen. When she didn’t answer beyond that, his gaze narrowed. “Are you sure you’re all right, Cassidy? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Maybe because she had. “No. I…I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

  “What do you have there?”

  “Where?”

  “Behind your back. What are you hiding?”

  She shuddered out a quick breath, her mind scrambling. “It’s, um, a surprise. For dessert.”

  He fingered his hat. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not really all that fond of surprises. Why don’t you just tell me what you’re planning?”

  “Crêpes Suzette,” she blurted out. “It’s one of my specialties.”

  “Oh.” He smiled. “That sounds very elegant. Very French. I don’t believe we’ve ever served that at the Rendezvous. Okay. Good. I’ll see you at dinner, then.”

  To her vast relief he started to walk back out of the kitchen. She forced her breathing into a slow, measured cadence. But just before he reached the door, he stopped, his head turned toward the liquor cabinet.

  To her horror she suddenly realized the door to the cupboard was still wide open, the stepstool in front of it. There was nothing she could do to hide either at this point.

  If he was indeed the one who’d stashed the gruesome little box there, he would know she had discovered it.

  He turned back to her, his mouth suddenly grim, then walked closer. “What are you hiding?” he repeated.

  “Nothing. Just…nothing.” She was too frightened to come up with anything more coherent than that.

  “Oh, dear. This is a problem. You found it, didn’t you?”

  “Found what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You were never a very good liar, Cassidy. You shouldn’t have gone snooping around. It wasn’t very polite.”

  She tried one more time to bluff her way through. “I’m not lying. I was…was just looking for some brandy for the dessert. For crêpes Suzette you pour brandy over the crêpes and set them ablaze. It’s really quite dramatic.”

  His sigh was resigned. “I’m afraid I can’t let you leave, now that you know.”

  “I don’t know anything. I swear.”

  “You’re a smart woman, Cassidy. That’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you. That and your lush beauty. You’re like a rare rose blooming in a weed patch.” He reached a hand out and traced one finger down her cheek, and it took every ounce of strength to keep from flinching. “We could have made a wonderful team together.”

  Even though her stomach heaved and she was very much afraid she was going to be sick all over him, she mustered a smile. “We still can.”

  “It’s too late for that. Far too late. You shouldn’t have gone snooping.”

  He was crazy. He had to be. He left the box there in plain sight, where anyone could have stumbled on it, then he accused her of going searching for it. Real fear began uncoiling inside her. He wouldn’t let her leave. Not after this.

  “You’re very much like her.”

  “Like who?” She barely paid attention to him as her mind chased in circles trying to come up with an escape route. There were two doors in the kitchen, one to the back porch of the lodge, the other to the dining room. She mentally scanned her options and decided her chances were better outside.

  He would be on her in a second, though, unless she came up with something to delay him.

  “Like Melanie,” Wade went on, his voice conversational, as if he were talking about something benign, mundane.

  “I loved her. I never wanted to hurt her.” His sigh sounded wistful, melancholy. “We were going to leave Star Valley. Make a new start, just the two of us. I was working on getting the money.”

  “By dealing drugs with Carl Briggs?”

  She hadn’t meant to say that, it just slipped out. Wade’s dark eyes widened with surprise for just a moment, then his expression hardened. “How did you know about that?”

  She didn’t answer, just tried to focus on escaping.
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  “That bastard Slater told you, didn’t he? He doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut. I knew we should have finished him off that night.”

  She swallowed hard as his words confirmed everything Zack had said and more.

  “Carl and me and a few of the other boys had a good thing going,” Wade went on, apparently not expecting any involvement in the conversation from her. “We were the middlemen. It was a perfect setup. Who would have suspected a podunk small-town Wyoming police department was a distribution hub for the intermountain West? We could have gotten away with it forever. Then that night everything went wrong.”

  He glared at her as if it had all been her fault.

  “First that no-account drifter of yours turned up where he had no business, then I came home to find Melanie at my place in town, drunk and acting crazy. She wanted to leave that night. I told her I needed a few more weeks to come up with enough money. She said she couldn’t wait, that she had to get out of town and didn’t have any more patience for what she called my stupid little schemes. She shouldn’t have said that.”

  His expression darkened until she hardly recognized him as the same kind, decent man she had always believed him to be.

  She cleared her throat, compelled despite her own instincts of self-preservation to hear of Melanie’s fate. “What happened?”

  “I had to prove to her I was onto something big, to convince her to wait just a few more weeks, so I showed her the blow still in the truck. We were delivering it the next morning to our contacts.

  “If she had only stayed quiet, everything would have been fine. But she started going on about how she wanted in. If I refused, she said she would go public with the whole thing and expose us all.”

  A vague plan began to form in her mind, and Cassie began edging toward the stove, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

  To her relief, he seemed to be too wrapped up in the past. “I tried to shut her up, but she kept going on and on about how she deserved my share since she took pity on me and slept with me.”

  He closed his eyes as if to block out the memories, and Cassie took advantage of his distraction to step closer to the stove.