The man, dressed in bib overalls and boots, appeared nervous, constantly rolling a worn straw hat in his hands.
Suddenly feeling like an eavesdropper, Sam turned her attention to the small lobby. People came and went with smooth efficiency, a few stopping to speak to her, which both surprised and pleased her, while others nodded or tipped their western hats in greeting. I made the right decision. I belong here.
A few minutes later, the door to Puckett’s office opened. Sam recognized the farmer exiting as someone she had met at Bub’s the other day, though his name escaped her at the moment. She stood, prepared to speak as he passed, but he went by so quickly, she didn’t get a chance.
“You can go in now.” The secretary’s droll voice lacked any warmth or friendship.
Everything about Puckett shouted self-confidence and a cock-of-the-walk attitude. His stylish blue-grey suit fit to perfection, the color several shades darker than the eyes boldly giving her a thorough once-over.
“I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed your delicious chocolate cake,” he crooned as he grabbed her in a two-handed shake. “A beautiful woman who cooks like an angel is rare indeed.”
The touch of his left hand as it cupped her arm gave her the creeps. “Thank you, Mr. Puckett.” She pulled her hand from his too-tight grasp, and took a slight step toward the chair recently vacated by the farmer, but he retained his light grip on her upper arm. “I appreciate the kind words.”
“Please, call me James, Sam. We’re not much on formality around here.” One finger skimmed over her skin as his hand slid down her arm. “Perhaps I could persuade you to make me another cake some time. One we could enjoy together.”
Having seen the wedding ring on his left hand, his comment left her momentarily speechless. She straightened her shoulders and fixed him with an icy stare. “I don’t think so, Mr. Puckett. Now, can we please conclude our business? I have several errands to complete this afternoon.”
“Of course.” Apparently undaunted by her rejection, he continued in a lower, huskier tone. “Just let me know when you change your mind.”
The words, spoken with the absolute certainty of a man who fully expected her to succumb to his charm, infuriated her. Not in this life asshole.
He returned to his chair and opened a folder. “I have everything ready to set up the accounts you requested.”
His intercom buzzed and he picked it up. “I told you I wasn’t to be interrupted.” His tone resonated impatience. “What does he want? Fine. Put him through.” He looked at Sam. “Excuse me. I need to take this.”
“Should I wait outside?”
“No, it’s quite all right.” He turned his attention to the caller. “Good afternoon, JD. Yes, I got your message, but I have a customer to take care of first.”
His gaze found hers, then slid to her breasts. He licked his lower lip as he listened to the caller.
In the space of a few seconds, she pegged him as cold and calculating, like a wolf watching a fawn. A predator. The man had no morals. None.
“What’s this about?”
She watched him stiffen as his expression faded from brazen to serious and perspiration popped out on his brow.
“I see. Of course. I’m almost done here. I’ll drop by in a few minutes.” He dropped the phone back in the cradle a little too hard, then shuffled the papers on his desk, visibly flustered and nervous. “Let’s see. Where was I? Oh yes. I just need a signature on these pages.”
In less than fifteen minutes, the paperwork was completed, and Puckett ushered her out the door to his secretary.
“I have a City Council matter to attend to, Mavis. Please finish up with Dr. Fowler. I’ll be back shortly.”
Sam looked at the woman as the banker hurried out the door. “He seems a little flustered doesn’t he?”
She huffed out a breath and straightened her horn-rimmed glasses. “If you’ll just look through this packet and pick out what style checks you what, I’ll take care of the funds transfer. Do you have the routing and account numbers?”
Okay, then, let’s just stick to business.
Over the next few minutes, several other people made a point to speak as she waited for Mavis to complete her tasks, and Sam decided her life could not be any more perfect. A town that felt like home, a new practice to focus on, and a man worth letting her guard down.
Yes, life was indeed, perfect.
He wants her.
“Who, Peggy?” muttered Coop, accepting the fact the voice belonged to the woman he deemed the other victim, Peggy Wallace. “Can’t you give me more?”
The plea went unanswered, and his jaw clinched tight as he struggled for control. I’m talking to a voice no one hears but me. I’m losing my fricking mind.
Coop stopped in the act of getting up from his chair when JD tapped on the doorframe.
“You wanted to see me, Sheriff?”
He pulled his notepad forward. “Yeah. Spoke with the forensic guy from the Rangers today. They’re still processing things. So far, though, nothing to report.” He blew out a long breath. “Only odd thing was a couple of pink rose petals stuck to her back. That’s it.”
“What about under her fingernails? ME said she showed signs of fighting back.”
“Bastard cleaned under them.”
JD’s eyes widened. “He had to know we’d check.”
“Yeah. He’s thorough. Used a condom and cleaned up after himself.” Coop rubbed his temple, a headache slowly building. “They processed the car and got zilch. Still working on stuff from the site. Kids hang out there all the time, too, so a lot of trash to sort through.”
“So we’re back to square one?”
