EXCERPT 1
Kade Logan stood
on the bank watching the sheriff and his deputies haul the mud-covered vehicle
out of the lake. The crane groaned as
the automobile tilted upward, the rear end lifting into the air, the front
wheels dragging across the spongy earth.
Brackish lake water poured out through the open windows.
For eight long
years Kade had been haunted by the mystery of what had happened to the dark
green Subaru that belonged to his dead wife.
Her body had been found in a shallow depression in the hills at the base
of the mountains outside Denver, but until now, eight years later, her car had
never been found.
And her killer
had never been caught.
“You okay?” Sam Bridger, Kade’s best friend, stood beside
him, a tall blond man Kade had known for years.
“She’s been dead
eight years, Sam. So yeah, I’m
okay.” But the rage he felt had never
lessened. It should have. At the time of her death, their marriage was
already on the rocks. The second time
Kade had caught Heather cheating, he had filed for divorce.
“Maybe they’ll
find something in the car that’ll give them a reason to reopen the case,” Sam
said.
“Maybe.” Kade hoped so. He wanted Heather’s killer found and
punished. No matter how things had
turned out between them, he owed her that much.
He glanced back
at the car. The last time he had seen
the dark green SUV was the night Heather had left him. That night, she had packed her things, taken
the car, and driven away without a backward glance. Kade had never seen her again.
Since then, he had
been tormented by guilt, had lived each day with a terrible sense of failure
that he had never found the man responsible for her death.
Never made the
bastard pay.
“I’ve seen
enough,” Kade said. “I’m heading back to
the ranch.”
“That’s it?” Sam
asked, a blond eyebrow edging up.
Kade thought of
Heather and felt the old rage burn through him.
“Not by a long shot,” he said.
Eleanor Bowman
sat at her oak desk near the front door of the office, a two-story brick
structure on Acoma Street in Denver.
Photos of local
wildlife hung on the walls, elk, deer, a big black bear, along with autographed
photos of celebrities the company had done business with over the years. The faces of Tom Selleck, Clint Eastwood,
Denzel Washington, and Kevin Costner looked down from sturdy oak frames.
Though most of
the guys who worked at Nighthawk Security held P.I. licenses, Ellie and a woman
named Skye Delaney were the only two female private investigators. Since Ellie had just finished a case, she was
looking for something to do, hopefully something interesting, but work was
work. She didn’t want her savings
account to dwindle.
She looked up as
the glass door at the front of the office swung open and a tall,
broad-shouldered man wearing a dark brown Stetson walked in. People thought of Denver as a western town,
but it had been years since Ellie had seen a guy in a cowboy hat who looked
like it belonged on him.
In crisp dark
blue jeans that fit snuggly over a pair of narrow hips, brown lizard-skin
boots, and a white shirt with pearl snaps on the front, the man removed his
Stetson, revealing neatly trimmed, golden brown hair, and strode toward the
desk closest to the door, which happened to be hers.
“My name’s Kade
Logan.” He had a lean, muscular build,
and the long, powerful legs of a bulldogger.
His deep, masculine voice fit him as perfectly as his hat, and his hard,
handsome face could rival any of the celebrities hanging on the office
walls. “I have an appointment with
Conner Delaney.”
“Yes, Conn
mentioned he was expecting you.” Her
boss, the dark-haired, handsome man who owned and ran the company. Ellie wondered if Kade Logan could possibly
be the client Conn had in mind for her.
She smiled up at
Logan. “His office is down the
hall. Go ahead and go on in.” A little under five-foot-four, she was at
least ten inches shorter.
Logan gave her a
cursory nod, then strode off and disappeared inside Conn’s office. She wondered what kind of help he
needed.
Ten minutes
later, she found out.
“Kade meet
Eleanor Bowman.”
His eyes
narrowed, tiny sun lines forming in the corners. “You’re Eleanor Bowman?”
“I’m Ellie.” She smiled and stuck out a hand. “Pleasure meeting you.”
His jaw tightened
an instant before he reached out and accepted her handshake.
He turned back to
Conn. “Eleanor. With a name like that, I thought she’d be an
older woman, someone with more experience.
Either way, this is a bad idea.”
“What idea is
that?” Ellie asked.
“Eight years ago,
Kade’s wife was murdered,” Conn explained.
“Her body was discovered in the mountains outside Denver, but the killer
was never found. Two weeks ago, the car
Heather was driving the night she disappeared was discovered in a lake near
Coffee Springs. It’s possible the killer
abducted her, dumped the car in the lake, then drove her somewhere else and
murdered her.”
“And that’s the
reason you want to hire me? To find out
who murdered your wife?”
Logan’s gaze
swung to hers. “First off, I don’t want
to hire you. Conn thought it would be a
good idea. He said your specialty is
working undercover, but the last thing I need on my ranch is a female playing
detective.”
Irritation
bubbled up and her spine went straighter.
“Did Conn tell you I was born in Wyoming? I was raised on the Grass Valley Ranch near
Jackson Hole. Did he tell you I can ride
just about anything you have in your remuda?
And the weather doesn’t bother me.
I know ranching, Mr. Logan. I can
fit seamlessly into your operation. I
can do whatever it takes to make people accept me and gather the information
you need.”
Silence fell.
Conn Delaney’s
lips twitched. “I think you can see why
I thought Ellie was the right person for the job.”
A muscle worked
in Logan’s square jaw. He raked a hand
through his hair, mussed a little from the hat.
“I need some time
to think about it.”
“Are you sure?”
Ellie asked. “Because you’ve already had
eight years to think about it.”
Kade’s golden
eyes narrowed, seemed to burn into her green ones. “You really think you can do it?”
“If you want me
to succeed, I’ll need straight answers to any questions I ask. If you’re willing to do that and if the
information is out there, I’ll find out who it was.”
For the first
time she caught a glimmer of respect in Logan’s eyes. “When can you start?”
“I can be there
tomorrow, if we can figure out the best place for me to fit in. That way I’ll know what I need to bring.”
Logan’s hard
mouth edged up. “You mean besides your
pistol?”
“You better make
that plural.” Ellie flashed him a phony
smile. “Remember, Mr. Logan, I’m from
Wyoming.”
