The rancher had laughed. “I understand.”
Stuart had thought about it, but the Fourth usually came with its own challenges for law enforcement. He was back to just two deputies and couldn’t leave them alone tonight.
He leaned back in his office chair as he finished the last of the paperwork on Boyle Wilson’s confession to killing Dixon Malone. Wilson had been transferred to the Billings detention center. Still exhausted from everything that had happened, Stuart couldn’t have felt more relieved—or surprised—to finally be able to wrap up the case. Holly Jo was home, Holden McKenna was going to live, and Darius Reed was no longer a threat.
From the ashes of the McKenna Ranch house, a new structure had emerged. “It will be bigger and better than before,” Holden had said, and Stuart had heard it was. The fire had to have destroyed a lot of memories since it was the original portion of the homestead that had burned—the part Holden’s grandfather had built more than a hundred years ago.
Holden, though, had seemed to have taken it in his stride, as if almost glad to have some of those memories gone. Stuart wondered where that left Charlotte, who’d exited town after paying her fine for helping Elaine dispose of Dixon’s body.
Charlotte and Holden were just full of surprises, like offering her house until Holden’s was rebuilt—and Holden accepting—let alone her leaving town. No one seemed to know where she’d gone or if she’d be back.
His cell rang. “A woman’s been mugged right outside the bar.” He recognized the voice of the female bartender, Patty LaFrance, who worked the night shift at the Wild Horse. “She didn’t want me to call you, but I think you’d better come down here. It’s Bailey McKenna. A couple of cowboys ran after the person who attacked her.”
That sounded like trouble. Holden had good reason to worry about his daughter, it seemed. “I’ll be right there.”
A few minutes later, he pushed open the door into the bar and saw Bailey in a booth with Patty, who was clucking over her like a mother hen.
When Bailey saw him, she rolled her eyes. “I told her not to call you. I’m fine and I didn’t get a good look at the guy, so no point.”
She didn’t look fine, Stuart thought. She was holding a bloodstained cloth to her temple. He could also see that her hand holding the cloth was trembling. As he took her in, he saw that her arm was also scraped, the sleeve of her blouse torn. But it was what he found in her blue eyes that told him she wasn’t as fine as she was trying to get everyone to believe. She was scared, a look he’d seldom seen—if ever—on her face before.
Bailey McKenna was fearless, stubbornly independent and secretive. The sheriff had been wondering for some time what was going on with her.
“What happened?” he asked as he slid into the booth across from her.
“It was nothing,” Bailey said, eliciting a rude response from Patty.
“It’s something,” the bartender said as she opened the first aid kit on the table in front of her. She pulled Bailey’s hand and the cloth away to press a bandage over the wound.
“Thank you, Clara Barton,” she said pointedly to the bartender. “I’m fine.” Patty mugged a face and, taking her first aid kit, went back to her real job behind the bar.
“Okay, we’re alone now,” Stuart said. “What happened?”
Bailey met his gaze and seemed to relax. She even forced a smile. He wasn’t buying that she was fine, and she must have realized it, because she looked away and said, “I don’t know what happened.”
“You don’t remember?”
She rolled her eyes again. “I don’t have a concussion or amnesia. It just happened so fast. I was leaving. I crashed into someone.”
“He tried to take her purse,” Patty called from behind the bar. “She was lying in the doorway, determined not to let him take it, and him just as determined to get it away from her—even if he had to drag her out into the street.”
Bailey groaned. “It wasn’t that dramatic.”
“Did you get a look at him?” She shook her head. He turned to the bar. “You get a good look at him, Patty?”
“Wearing one of those damned hoodies. Plus, that front light out there is worthless, even if he wasn’t doing his best to stay out of it,” the bartender called back.
He looked to Bailey again. Her large purse was on the table next to her. He knew she carried it everywhere. “Mind if I have a look in your bag?” He reached to look inside, but her hand dropped over his to stop him.
“He didn’t get anything. My wallet is inside. I already checked.”
“What about your phone?”
“He didn’t get it.”
“Your laptop’s in there too, isn’t it?”
“It’s fine. Everything is fine.” She picked up the purse and swung it onto her shoulder with a grimace.
“You sure you shouldn’t have a doctor look you over?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I’m a little sore, that’s all.” She met his gaze again. “I’m fine.”
He nodded, studying her. Her blue eyes were deep as a bottomless well. There was more to the story, and she knew that he knew it. “Wish I knew what’s going on with you,” he said quietly so Patty and the rest of the people in the bar couldn’t hear. “But if you ever want to be honest with me, you know where I live.”
That made her smile. “There’s nothing going on,” she clearly lied. “But if there ever is, I’ll stop by again.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’ve missed you.”
He shook his head, rose and walked away while he could. He feared the day would come when he could no longer walk away from Bailey—either because he’d finally admitted how he felt about her or because whatever trouble she was neck-deep in had gotten them both killed.
At the bar door, he turned to look back. Just as he’d suspected, she was watching him leave, the fear in her eyes almost as glaring as her stubbornness. He hated to think how scared she’d have to be to come to him not just with the truth—but for help.
He hoped she didn’t wait too long.
ISBN-13: 9780369735980
River Justice
