A conman’s daughter takes refuge with the family she never knew she had in New York Times bestseller B.J. Daniels’s latest addition to the Cardwell family saga.

Dee Anna Justice had thought that her convict father was her only living relative. Now Walter Justice, fearing for his daughter’s safety, urges her to seek out her cousins in Montana. Calling in a decades-old debt, he also enlists private investigator Beau Tanner to protect her.

Despite their fiery attraction, she resents the bodyguard her dad foists on her. Trust doesn’t come easy to DJ. But the warm, embracing family she finds at Cardwell ranch just might begin to soften her suspicious nature, and learning to trust the sexy PI may be the key to saving her life.

“What was that?”

DJ began brushing the snow off her backside. “A kiss. Apparently it’s been a while for you, as well,” Beau said. He began helping her brush off the snow.

“I can do it myself,” she snapped. She wanted to tell him that she’d only kissed him back because he’d taken her by surprise. But he didn’t give her a chance to lie.

“Don’t look so shocked. It was just a kiss, right? It wasn’t like either of us felt anything.”

“I was asking why you thought you could get away with kissing me like that. Or was that part of the bargain you made with my father?” She hoped he caught the sarcasm.

“I was merely doing my job protecting you. Since the one thing your father didn’t make clear is who I’m protecting you from. As for the kiss, it just seemed like a good idea. It won’t happen again.”

“You’re right about that, because I don’t need your so-called protection.”

Cardwell Christmas Crime Scene

B.J. Daniels

www.millsandboon.co.uk

B.J. DANIELS is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author. She wrote her first book after a career as an award-winning newspaper journalist and author of thirty-seven published short stories. She lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, and three springer spaniels. When not writing, she quilts, boats and plays tennis. Contact her at www.bjdaniels.com, on Facebook or on Twitter, @bjdanielsauthor.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Beau Tanner—The cowboy private investigator made a promise years ago, and he never goes back on his promises.

Dee Anna Justice—DJ’s life began to unravel the moment she realized someone had been in her apartment—and left her a “present”…

Marietta Pisani—She would do anything to protect her family.

Carlotta Pisani Justice Gianni—Her deathbed confession changed everything.

Roger Douglas—The attorney had his own reasons for wanting the Pisani legacy upheld.

Ester Brown—The loyal housekeeper couldn’t keep the family secrets any longer.

Walter Justice—He kept the truth from his daughter to protect her from the family she knew nothing about.

Zinnia Jameson—She lost the love of her life when Walter married someone else.

With utmost appreciation I dedicate this Cardwell book

to Kimberly Rocha, the craziest, most loving, generous,

truly beautiful fan I’ve yet to meet.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Cast of Characters

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

DJ Justice opened the door to her apartment and froze. Nothing looked out of place and yet she took a step back. Her gaze went to the lock. There were scratches around the keyhole. The lock set was one of the first things she’d replaced when she’d rented the apartment.

She eased her hand into the large leather hobo bag that she always carried. Her palm fit smoothly around the grip of the weapon, loaded and ready to fire, as she slowly pushed open the door.

The apartment was small and sparsely furnished. She never stayed anywhere long, so she collected nothing of value that couldn’t fit into one suitcase. Spending years on the run as a child, she’d had to leave places in the middle of the night with only minutes to pack.

But that had changed over the past few years. She’d just begun to feel...safe. She liked her job, felt content here. She should have known it couldn’t last.

The door creaked open wider at the touch of her finger, and she quickly scanned the living area. Moving deeper into the apartment, she stepped to the open bathroom door and glanced in. Nothing amiss. At a glance she could see the bathtub, sink and toilet as well as the mirror on the medicine cabinet. The shower door was clear glass. Nothing behind it.

That left just the bedroom. As she stepped soundlessly toward it, she wanted to be wrong. And yet she knew someone had been here. But why break in unless he or she planned to take something?

Or leave something?

Like the time she’d found the bloody hatchet on the fire escape right outside her window when she was eleven. That message had been for her father, the blood from a chicken, he’d told her. Or maybe it hadn’t even been blood, he’d said. As if she hadn’t seen his fear. As if they hadn’t thrown everything they owned into suitcases and escaped in the middle of the night.

She moved to the open bedroom door. The room was small enough that there was sufficient room only for a bed and a simple nightstand with one shelf. The book she’d been reading the night before was on the nightstand, nothing else.

The double bed was made—just as she’d left it.

She started to turn away when she caught a glimmer of something out of the corner of her eye. Ice ran down her spine as she dropped the gun back into her shoulder bag and stepped closer. Something had been tucked between the pillows and duvet. Gingerly picking up the edge of the duvet, she peeled it back an inch at a time. DJ braced herself for something bloody and dismembered, her mind a hamster on a wheel, spinning wildly.

But what she found was more disturbing than blood and guts. As she uncovered part of it, she saw familiar blank eyes staring up at her. Her breath caught in her throat as tears stung her eyes.

“Trixie?” she whispered, voice breaking, as she stared at the small rag doll’s familiar face.

On the run with her father, she’d had little more than the clothes on her back except for the rag doll that had been her only companion since early childhood.

“We should throw this old thing away,” her father had said after a dog tore the doll from her hands once and he’d had to chase it down to retrieve what was left because she’d been so hysterical. “I’ll buy you another doll. A pretty one, not some stuffed fabric one,” he’d pleaded.

She’d been so upset that he’d relented and let her keep the doll she’d always known as Trixie. But she could tell that he would have been happier to get rid of the thing. She wondered if it brought him bad memories, since it was clear that the doll was handmade. Even the clothing. She liked to pretend that her mother had made it for her. If her mother hadn’t died in childbirth.

Was that why her father wished she didn’t care so much for the doll? Because it brought back the grief, the loss? That might explain why he had seemed to want nothing to do with anything from the past, including her doll. Not that she’d ever understood her father.

Life with him had been sparse and sporadic. He had somehow kept her fed and clothed and managed to get her into school—at least for a while until they were uprooted again. But the incident with the doll now made her wonder.

From as far back as she could remember, she’d believed that the doll with the sewn face and the dull, dark stitched eyes needed her as much as she needed it.

Now she half feared all she would find was Trixie’s dismembered head. But as she drew back the covers, she saw that the body was still intact. Someone had left it for her tucked under the covers almost...tenderly. With trembling fingers, she picked up the treasured rag doll, afraid something awful had been done to her that would spoil one of the few good memories she had of her childhood.

Cupping the precious doll in her hands, DJ began to cry—for herself and for Trixie. The doll was in incredible shape for how old she was, not to mention what she must have been through over the years. DJ thought of her being lost, someone discarding her in a trash can as nothing more than junk and that awful feeling she’d had that she would never see her again.

So how had Trixie miraculously turned up again?

Heart in her throat, she looked closer at the doll.

Something was wrong.

The doll looked exactly like Trixie, but... She studied the handmade clothing. It looked as pristine as the doll. Maybe whoever had found it had washed it, taken care of it all these years...

For what possible purpose?

As happy as she’d been to see the doll again, now she realized how unlikely that was. Why would anyone care about some silly rag doll? And how could someone possibly know she was the one who’d lost it all those years ago?

After being her constant companion from as far back as she could remember, Trixie had been the worse for wear before DJ had misplaced her. The doll had spent too many years tucked under one of DJ’s chubby arms. So how—

With a jolt, she recalled the accident she’d had with the doll and the dog that had taken off with it all those years ago. The dog had ripped off one of Trixie’s legs. With DJ screaming for help, her father had chased down the dog, retrieved the leg and later, at her pleading, painstakingly sewn it back on with the only thread he could find, black.

Her fingers trembling, she lifted the dress hem and peered under the only slightly faded red pantaloons. With both shock and regret, she saw that there was no black thread. No seam where the leg had been reattached.

This wasn’t her doll.

It surprised her that at thirty-five, she could feel such loss for something she’d been missing for so many years.

She stared at the rag doll, now more confused than ever. Why would people break into her apartment to leave it for her? They had to have known that she’d owned one exactly like it. Wouldn’t they realize that she’d know the difference between hers and this one? Or was that the point?

DJ studied the doll more closely. She was right. This one and Trixie were almost identical, which meant that whoever had made them had made two. Why?

She’d never questioned before where her doll had come from. Trixie was in what few photographs she’d seen of her childhood, her doll locked under her arm almost like an extension of herself.

Like hers, this one looked more than thirty years old. The clothing was a little faded, the face even blanker than it had been all those years ago, but not worn and faded like Trixie had been when DJ had lost her.

DJ felt a chill. So who had left this for her?

Someone who’d had this doll—a doll that was identical to hers before Trixie’s accident. Someone who’d known there had been two identical dolls. Someone who knew this doll would be meaningful to her.

But why break in to leave it for her tucked under the covers? And why give it to her now? A life on the run had taught her one thing. The people who had left this wanted something from her. They could have mailed it with a note. Unless they had some reason to fear it could be traced back to them?

Regrettably, there was only one person she could ask, someone she hadn’t spoken to in seven years. Her father.

She took a couple of deep breaths as she walked back into the living room. She’d left the door open in case she had needed to get out fast, but now she moved to close and lock it.

With her back against the door, she stared at the apartment she’d come to love. She’d made a life for herself here, and just the thought of being forced to give it up—

She was considering what her intruder might want from her when she felt a prick and dropped the doll. Sucking on her bleeding finger, she stared down at the rag doll. The dress had gaped open in the back to expose a straight pin—and what looked like the corner of a photograph.

Carefully picking up the doll so it didn’t stick her again, she unpinned the photo and pulled it out. There were three people in the snapshot. A man and two women, one young, one older, all dark-haired. The young woman, the only one smiling, was holding a baby.

She flipped the photo over. Written in a hurried hand were the words: Your family.

What? She quickly turned the photograph back over and stared at the people pictured there.

She’d never seen any of them before, but there was something familiar about the smiling woman holding the baby. DJ realized with a start that the woman looked like her. But how was this possible if her mother had died in childbirth?

If it was true and these people were family...was it possible she was the baby in the photo? Why would her father have lied if that were the case? He knew how much she would have loved having family. He’d always said it was just the two of them. But what if that wasn’t true?

Still, she thought as she studied the photo, if it was true, wouldn’t they have contacted her? Then she realized they were contacting her now. But why wait all these years, and why do it like this?

The reason hit her hard. No one had wanted her to know the truth.

But someone had decided to tell her.

Or warn her, she thought with a shiver.

Chapter Two

“Are you sure it’s the same doll? I thought you lost it years ago.”

DJ gripped the utilitarian standard black phone tighter as she looked through the thick Plexiglas in the prison visiting room at her father.

Walter Justice had been a big, handsome man who’d charmed his way out of trouble all his life—until it caught up with him one night when he’d gotten involved in a robbery that went badly and he ended up doing time for second-degree murder. He had aged well even in prison, and that charm was still there in the twinkle of his blue eyes, in his crooked-toothed smile, in the soft reassuring sound of his voice.

She hadn’t been able to wait until visiting day, so this was the best that could be done on short notice with the prison warden. But as surprised and pleased as her father had been to see her, he’d given the doll only a cursory look.

“It’s the same doll,” she said impatiently into the phone. “It’s just not mine. Apparently someone made two of these dolls. The clothes are handmade—just like my doll. Everything is identical except the doll isn’t mine,” she explained impatiently. “So whose is it?”

“How should I know?”

“You have to know where my doll came from,” she argued.

“DJ, you don’t really expect me to remember where we picked up a rag doll all those years ago, do you?”

“Yes, I do.” She frowned, remembering a photo she’d seen of when she was a baby. Trixie had been lying next to her. “I had it from as far back as I can remember. You should remember if someone gave it to me when I was a baby.”

He glanced away for a moment. “Look, if you think it is some kind of threat, then maybe you should disappear for a while.”

She hadn’t said she thought it was a threat. Her eyes widened in both alarm and anger. What wasn’t he telling her?

“That is all you have to say? Run? Your answer to everything.” She thought of the cheap motels, the carryout food, the constantly looking over her shoulder, afraid someone would either kill her father or take him from her. First sign of trouble—and there was always trouble when your father is a con man—and off they would go, usually in the middle of the night. She’d spent too many years on the run with him as a child. This time she wasn’t running.

“No,” she said, gripping the phone until her fingers ached. “This time I want answers. If you don’t tell me, I’ll get them on my own.”

“I only want you to be...safe.”

“Safe? So this doll is a threat.” She cursed under her breath. For years she’d had to deal with people her father had swindled or old partners he’d shortchanged or screwed over. Half the time she didn’t know who was after them or why they had to keep moving, always on the run from something. She’d felt as if she’d had a target on her back all her life because of this man. “What have you gotten me into now?”

“You can’t believe this doll is my doing.”

Why had she thought that her father, a man who lied for living, would be honest with her? Coming here had been a mistake, but then again, she’d had no one else to ask about the doll—or the photo.

She reached into her pocket. She’d come too far to turn around and leave without at least trying to get the truth out of him. “Who are these people in this photograph, and why would someone want me to have it?” she demanded as she pressed the crinkled photo against the Plexiglas between them.

DJ watched all the color drain from his face. Growing up, she’d learned to tell when he was lying. But what she saw now on his face was pain and fear.

His gaze darting away from the photo as he lowered his voice. “I don’t know what this is about, but what would it hurt if you just got out of town for a while?”

She shook her head. “Stop lying to me. You recognize these people. Tell me the truth. Is this my mother? Don’t you think I noticed that she looks like me? Am I that baby?”

“DJ, how is that possible? I told you, your mother died in childbirth.”

“Then this woman isn’t my mother?”

“On my life, you aren’t the baby in that photo.” He crisscrossed his heart. “And those people are not your family.”

She’d been so hopeful. She felt like crying as she peeled the photo off the grimy glass and dropped it back into her bag along with the doll. She’d had to leave her gun in her car and felt naked without it. “But you did recognize the people in the photo.”

He said nothing, which came as little surprise.

“I have no idea why I came here.” She met his gaze. “I knew you’d lie.”

“DJ, whatever you think of me, listen to me now,” he pleaded.

DJ. That had been his nickname for her, and it had stuck. But hearing him say it had her fighting tears. She’d once thought her father was the most amazing man in the world. That had been a very long time ago.

She got to her feet, shaking her head at her own naïveté as she started to put the phone back. She’d fallen for his promises too many times in her life. She’d made a clean break when he’d gone to prison, telling him she never wanted to see him again.

Drawing the phone to her ear, she said, “It is clear to me that you’ve lied to me my whole life. What I don’t know is why. But I’m going to find out.”

“I did the best I could, just the two of us,” her father said, his voice breaking. “I know I could have done better, but, DJ—”

She’d heard this before and couldn’t bear to hear it again. “If I have family—” Growing up, she’d often dreamed of a big, boisterous family. Now, with Christmas coming, she felt nostalgic. If she had family, if that’s why they’d left this for her now...

She’d seen an ad in a magazine of a family around a beautifully decorated tree on Christmas morning. That night she’d prayed to the starlit night that she could be that little girl in the ad.

But her prayer hadn’t been answered, and now she no longer believed in fairy tales. If anything, life had taught her that there were no happy endings.

“DJ, you have to listen to me.” He’d raised his voice. The guard was making his way down the line of booths toward him. “You don’t know how dangerous—”

“Dangerous?” she echoed.

The guard tapped him on the shoulder. “Time to go.”

“DJ—”

“Just tell me the truth.” She hated how vulnerable she sounded. She’d seen his face when he’d looked at the people in the photograph. He had recognized them. But if they were her family, then why had he looked so...hurt, and yet so frightened? Because he’d been caught in a lie? Or because she had something to fear from them?

She’d had to become strong and trust her own instincts for so long... Growing up on the run with her father had taught her how to survive.

That was, until she’d found the doll and the photo of three people she didn’t know, one of them holding a baby who, no matter what he said, was probably her. But what about that would put her in danger?

“Last chance,” she said into the phone.

The guard barked another “Time to go.”

Her father’s gaze locked with hers. She saw pleading in his eyes as he quickly said into the phone, “There’s a reason I lied all these years, but the truth is...you will be hearing from my family in Montana soon. Go to them until you hear from me.” The guard grabbed the phone from her father’s hand and slammed it down.

DJ stood staring at him, his words rooting her to the floor. Her father had family in Montana? She had family? A family that would be contacting her? If this was another lie...

Slowly she hung up her phone as she watched Walter Justice being led away. Frowning, she pulled out the photo. He’s sworn these people weren’t her family. Then who were they? Her mother’s family? A cold dread filled her at the memory of her father’s reaction to the photo.

The doll and the photo proved that they knew about her. That at least someone in that family wanted her to know about them. And now she was going to find them. That she was on her own was nothing new.

And yet the fear she’d seen in her father’s eyes almost burned through her resolve.

* * *

IN BIG SKY, MONTANA, Dana Cardwell Savage braced herself as she pushed open the door to her best friend Hilde’s sewing shop. Christmas music played softly among the rows and rows of rich bolts of fabric. For a moment she slowed to admire the Christmas decorations that Hilde had sewn for the occasion, wishing she had time to sew. She missed quilting and the time she used to spend with Hilde back when they were partners in Needles and Pins.

Seeing her friend at the back, she moved on reluctantly. She needed to tell Hilde the news in person. Her only fear was how her friend was going to respond. Their relationship had taken a beating three years ago. Hilde had only begun to trust her again. And now this.

“Dana!” Hilde saw her and smiled, clearly pleased to see her. Raising four children, Dana rarely got down to the shop that she and Hilde had started together. Hilde had bought her out long since then, but Dana still loved coming down here, where it was so peaceful and quiet.

She moved to the stools by the cash register and pulled one up to sit down. There were several people in the shop, but fortunately, Hilde’s assistant, Veronica “Ronnie” Tate, was helping them.

“Where are the kids?” Hilde asked.

“With Stacy.” She loved that her older sister was so good about taking all of the children to give Dana a break. Stacy’s daughter, Ella, was almost five now. Dana’s twins were four, Mary was eight and her oldest, Hank, was nine. Where had those years gone?

“So, you’re out on the town?” Hilde asked and then seemed to notice how nervous Dana was. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“My cousin Dee Anna Justice, the real one. Except apparently she goes by DJ. I talked to my uncle, Walter, whom I was led to believe was dead.” She didn’t want to bias Hilde against the real Dee Anna Justice any more than she might already be, given the past. But she also couldn’t keep anything from her. “Walter called from prison.”

“Prison?”

Dana nodded. “He assured me that his daughter is nothing like him. In fact, she hadn’t talked to him in years until recently. She doesn’t know she has family, he said. She was never told about us. My uncle was hoping that I would contact her and invite her to come to Montana for the holidays so she can get to know her family.”

Paling, Hilde’s hand went to her protruding stomach and the baby inside her. Three years ago, a young woman claiming to be Dee Anna had come to the ranch. Dana, who had so desperately wanted to connect with a part of her family she hadn’t known even existed, had fallen for the psychopathic, manipulative woman’s lies, and they had all almost paid with their lives.

But Hilde had suffered the most. Dana still couldn’t believe that she’d trusted the woman she thought was her cousin over her best friend. She would never forgive herself. The fake Dee Anna, it turned out, had been the roommate of the real Dee Anna Justice for a short period of time. The roommate had opened a piece of her mail and, since they resembled each other, had pretended to be Dee Anna. Dana had believed that the woman was the real Dee Anna Justice and almost lost everything because of it.

“Why would he keep something like that from her?” Hilde finally asked.

“Because his family had disowned him when he married a woman they didn’t approve of. He thought his family would turn both him and his daughter away, apparently.”

“But now?”

“Now, he said with Christmas coming, he hoped I would reach out to her and not turn her away as his family had done. She doesn’t have any other family, he said.” She saw Hilde weaken.

“I told my uncle about the woman who pretended to be Dee Anna. He was so sorry about what happened,” Dana said quickly. “He said he’d never met DJ’s former roommate, but that he was shocked, and his daughter would be, too, to learn that the woman was capable of the horrible things she did.”

Hilde nodded. “So, you’ve contacted her?”

“No, I wouldn’t do that without talking to you first.”

Her friend took a breath and let it out. “It’s all right.”

“I won’t if it upsets you too much,” Dana said, reaching for Hilde’s hand.

“You’re sure this time she’s the real Dee Anna Justice?”

“Hud ran both her and her father through the system. She has been working as a travel writer, going all over the world to exotic places and writing about them under the pen name DJ Price.” One of the perks of being married to the local marshal was that he wouldn’t let anyone else come to visit without first finding out his or her true identity.

“So Colt knows that the real Dee Anna has turned up?”

The only good thing that had come out of that horrible time three years ago was Deputy Marshal Colt Lawson. He had believed what Hilde was saying about the fake Dee and had ended up saving her life as well as Dana’s and the kids’. Now the two were married, and Dana had never seen Hilde looking happier, especially since she was pregnant with their first child.

“I talked to Colt first. He said it was up to you, but none of us wants to take any chances with this baby or your health.”

Hilde smiled. “I’m as healthy as a horse and the baby is fine. As long as we’re sure this woman is the real Dee Anna and not a murdering psychopath.”

The other Dee, the fake Dee Anna Justice, had set her sights on Dana’s husband, Marshal Hud Savage, planning to replace Dana. So Dana and her children had to go, and Hilde, the interfering friend in the woman’s mentally disturbed mind, along with them. Dana shivered at the memory.

She had nightmares sometimes, thinking they were all still locked in that burning barn. “That Dee Anna is dead and gone.”

Hilde nodded. “But not forgotten.”

“No, not forgotten. It was a lesson I will never forget, and neither will Hud.” She smiled and squeezed her friend’s hand. “I’m just glad you and I are okay.”

“We’re more than okay. I know how much family means to you. Contact your cousin and tell her she’s welcome. I would never stand in the way of you finding more of your relatives on your mother’s side.”

“I want you to meet her. If for any reason you suspect anything strange about her—”

Hilde laughed. “I’ll let you know if she tries to kill me.”

Chapter Three

Beau Tanner had always known the debt would come due, and probably at the worst possible time. He’d dreaded this day since he was ten. Over the years he’d waited, knowing there was no way he could deny whatever request was put to him.

The sins of the father, he thought as he stared at the envelope he’d found in his mailbox this morning. The return address was for an attorney in San Diego, California. But the letter inside was from a California state correction facility prisoner by the name of Walter Justice.

He wondered only idly how the man had found him after all these years, forgetting for a moment the kind of people he was dealing with. Beau could have ended up anywhere in the world. Instead, he’d settled in the Gallatin Canyon, where they’d first met. He suspected Walter had kept track of him, knowing that one day he would demand payment for the debt.

The letter had been sent to his home address here on the ranch—instead of his office. So he knew before he opened it that it would be personal.

Telling himself just to get it over with, Beau studied the contents of the envelope. There were two sheets of paper inside. One appeared to be a travel article about Eleuthera, an island in the Bahamas. The other was a plain sheet of paper with a printed note:

Take care of my daughter, DJ. Flight 1129 from LA arriving in Bozeman, Montana, Thursday at 2:45 p.m. Dana Cardwell Savage will be picking her up and taking her to Cardwell Ranch. I highly advise you not to let her know that you’re watching out for her—and most especially that it was at my request.

It was signed W. Justice.

Under that he’d written, “Cell phone number for emergencies only.”

Today was Thursday. DJ’s flight would be coming in this afternoon. Walter had called it awfully close. What if Beau had been out of town? If he’d questioned whether Walter had kept track of him, he didn’t anymore.

He read the letter again and swore. He had no idea what this was about. Apparently Walter’s daughter needed protection? A small clue would have been helpful. And protection from what? Or was it from whom?

Also, he was surprised Walt’s daughter would be coming to Montana. That was where their paths had crossed all those years ago. He thought of the dark-haired five-year-old girl with the huge brown expressive eyes and the skinny ten-year-old kid he’d been.

He remembered the way she’d looked up at him, how he’d melted into those eyes, how he’d foolishly wanted to rescue her. What a joke. He hadn’t even been able to rescue himself. Like him, she’d been trapped in a life that wasn’t her doing.

“Any mail for me?” asked a sleepy-sounding female voice from behind him.

He folded the letter and article and shoved them into his jean jacket pocket before turning to look at the slim, beautiful blonde leaning against his kitchen counter. “Nope. Look, Leah—”

“I really appreciate you letting me stay here, Beau,” she said, cutting him off. “If this package I have coming wasn’t so important and I wasn’t between places right now...”

Beau nodded, mentally kicking himself for getting involved when she’d shown up on his doorstep. “Leah, I wish you hadn’t put me in the middle of whatever this is.”

“Please, no lectures,” she said, raising a hand. “Especially before I’ve had my coffee. You did make coffee, didn’t you? I remember that you always made better coffee than Charlie.” Her voice broke at Charlie’s name. She turned away from him, but not before he’d seen the tears.

She pulled down a clean cup and poured herself a cup of coffee before turning to him again. He studied her in the steam that rose from the dark liquid. He’d met Leah Barnhart at college when his best friend and roommate, Charlie Mack, had been dating her. The three of them had become good friends. Leah and Charlie had later married and both taken jobs abroad. Over the years, they’d kept in touch for a while, then just an occasional Christmas card. The past few years there hadn’t even been a Christmas card.

No wonder he’d been so surprised and caught off guard to find her standing on his doorstep last night.

“And you’re not in the middle of anything,” she said after taking a long drink of her coffee.

“Why are you here?”

“I told you. I’m expecting an important package. I happened to be in Montana and thought about our college days...” She met his gaze and shrugged.

He didn’t believe any of it. “Where’s Charlie? You said he’s still in Europe. I need his number.”

She looked away with a sigh. “I don’t have it.”

He glanced at her bare left-hand ring finger. “Are you divorced?”

“No, of course not.” She let out a nervous laugh. “We’re just—It’s a long story, and really not one I’m ready to get into this early in the morning. Can we talk about this later?”

He agreed, since he needed to get to work. DJ Justice would be flying into Montana in a few hours. He had to be ready. He had no idea what was required to keep her safe. It might come down to some extreme measures. Since he didn’t know why she even needed protection—or from whom—now was definitely not the time to have a houseguest, especially one who knew nothing about his life before college. He wanted to keep it that way.

“You don’t decorate for Christmas?” Leah asked as she looked around the large log home he’d built back in a small valley in the mountains not far from Big Sky. He’d bought enough land that he could have horses—and privacy. That was another reason he’d been surprised to find her on his doorstep. His place wasn’t that easy to find.

He raked a hand through his thick, unruly mop of blond hair. “I’ve never been one for holidays.”

She nodded. “I thought you’d at least have had a tree and some lights.”

He glanced at his watch. “If you need anything, call my office and talk to Marge.”

Leah made a face. “I called your office on my way here. Marge scares me.”

He doubted that. He’d known Leah a lifetime ago. Was this woman standing in his kitchen the same Leah he’d toasted when she and Charlie had married? “Marge is a little protective.”

“I should say. So you really are a private investigator?”

“That’s what my license says.”

She studied him with narrowed eyes. “Why do I get the feeling there is more to it?”

“I have no idea,” he said. “Are you sure you’ll be all right here by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine.” She smiled. “I won’t steal your silverware, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I wasn’t. Anyway, it’s cheap flatware.”

She sobered. “I’ve missed you, Beau. Charlie and I both have. But I honestly do have a package coming here, and it’s important or I wouldn’t have done it without checking with you first.”

“Then we’ll talk later,” he said and left. It made him nervous, not knowing what was going to be required of him over the next few days or possibly longer—and having Leah here was a complication.

Turning his thoughts again to DJ Justice, he realized he was excited to see the grown-up DJ. He’d thought about her over the years and had hoped her life had turned out all right. But if she was in trouble and needed his help, then there was no way of knowing what her life had been like the past thirty years. He hated to think what kind of trouble she had gotten into that required his help.

Since her father was calling in a promise... Beau was betting it was the dangerous kind.

* * *

ANDREI LOOKED AT the coin in his hand for a long moment. His hand shook a little as he tossed the coin and watched it spin before he snatched it from the air and slapped it down on his thick wrist.

He hesitated, mentally arguing with himself. He had a bad feeling this time. But the money was good, and he’d always gone by the flip of a coin.

Superstition dictated that he went through the same steps each time. Otherwise...

He knew too well the otherwise as he slowly lifted his palm to expose the coin. Heads, he went ahead with this hit. Tails...

Heads. A strange sense of both worry and disappointment filled him. But the coin toss was sacred to him, so he assured himself he should proceed as he pocketed the coin.

Stepping to the table, he picked up the information he’d been given on the woman he was to kill.

He noticed that a prison snitch had provided her whereabouts. He snorted, shaking his head and trying to ignore that little voice in his head that was telling him this one was a mistake. But he’d worked with the man who’d hired him before, so he pushed aside his doubts and picked up the photo of Dee Anna Justice, or DJ as she was apparently called.

Pretty. He wondered idly what she had done to warrant her death—but didn’t let himself stay on that thought long. It had never mattered. It especially couldn’t matter this time—his last time.

Maybe that was what had him on edge. He’d decided that this one would be it. With the money added to what he’d saved from the other hits, he could retire at forty-five. That had always been his goal. Another reason he’d taken this job. It would be over quickly. By his birthday he would be home free. He saw that as a sign, since this would be his last job.

Encouraged, he took the data over to the fireplace and lit it with a match. He would already be in Montana, waiting for a sign, by the time Dee Anna Justice arrived.

* * *

DJ LEANED BACK into the first-class seat, wishing she could sleep on the airplane. Her mind had been reeling since finding the doll and the photograph. But now, to discover after all these years that she had family, a cousin...

She’d been shocked and wary when she’d gotten the message on her voice mail. “Hi, my name’s Dana Cardwell Savage. I’m your cousin. I live in Montana, where your father was born. I’d really love to talk to you. In fact, I want to invite you to the Cardwell Ranch here at Big Sky for the holidays.”

Instantly she’d known this call had been her father’s doing. But how had he gotten her cell phone number? She mentally smacked herself on the forehead as she recalled the guard at the prison searching her purse. The only thing he’d taken was her cell phone, saying she could pick it up on the way out. She should have known her father had friends in prison.

She’d thought about ignoring the message. What if this was just some made-up relative? She wouldn’t have put it past her father.

But the voice had sounded...sincere. If this Dana Cardwell Savage really was her cousin...would she be able to fill in the gaps about her father’s family? What about her mother’s family? Wasn’t there a chance she might know something about the doll and photograph?

She’d always had the feeling there was some secret her father had been keeping from her. If Dana Savage had the answer...

After doing some checking, first to verify that Walter William Justice had been born in Montana near Big Sky and then to see if there really was a Cardwell Ranch and a Dana Cardwell Savage, DJ had finally called her back.

A few minutes on the phone and she’d agreed to fly out. “I can’t stay for the holidays, but thank you for asking. I would like to meet you, though. I have to ask. What makes you so sure we’re cousins?”

Dana explained about discovering an uncle she hadn’t known existed until she’d found some old letters from him to her grandparents on her mother’s side. “There’d been a falling-out. I hate to say this, but they’d disowned him. That’s why I’d never heard of your father until a few years ago, when I found the letters.”

His family had disowned him? Was it that simple, why she’d never known about them? “Do you still have those letters?”

“I do.”

She had felt her heart soar. Something of substance she could use to find out the truth. She wanted answers so badly. “I’ve never known anything about my father’s family—or my mother’s, for that matter, so I’d love to learn more.”

“Family is so important. I’m delighted that your father called. I’d heard he had died. I’m so glad that wasn’t true.”

Little involving her father was the truth, DJ thought. But if his family had disowned him, then maybe that explained why he’d kept them from her. She had a cousin. How many more relatives did she have that he hadn’t told her about?

She tried to relax. Her cousin was picking her up at the airport and taking her to the family ranch where her father had been born. These people were his family, her family, people she’d never known had existed until recently. She wanted to pinch herself.

Pulling her purse from under the seat in front of her, she peered in at the rag doll. If only it could talk. Still, looking into its sweet face made her smile in spite of herself. It wasn’t hers, but it was so much like hers...

She thought of Trixie and remembered leaving a motel room in the middle of the night and not realizing until later that the doll wasn’t with her.

“You must have dropped her,” her father had said as they sped out of town.

“We have to go back,” she’d cried. “We can’t leave her.”

He’d looked over at her. “We can’t, sweetie. If I go back there... We can’t. I’ll get you another doll.”

She hadn’t wanted another doll and had cried herself to sleep night after night until she had no more tears.

“It was just a stupid doll,” her father had finally snapped.

“It was all I ever had that was mine.”

Now, as she looked at the doll resting in her shoulder bag, she wondered where it had been. Had another girl had this doll as she suspected? But how would that girl know about DJ and Trixie? Trixie was lost, while this doll had been well cared for all these years. Why part with it now?

Her head ached with all the questions and a nagging sense of dread that she wasn’t going to like what she found out.

It made no sense that people had given her this doll and the photograph unless they wanted her to find out the truth. But the way they’d left it, breaking into her apartment...

She had tucked the photo into a side pocket of her purse and now withdrew it to study the two women, the one man and the baby in the shot. The man and women were looking at the camera, standing next to a stroller. There was nothing in the background other than an unfamiliar stone wall to give her any idea of where it had been shot—or when.

With a start, she saw something in the photo that she hadn’t noticed before. She’d always looked at the people in the photo, especially the woman holding the baby.

But now she saw something in the stroller that made her heart pound. A doll. The doll she now had tucked in her purse. Her father hadn’t lied. She wasn’t this baby, because it wasn’t her doll in the stroller. But who was the baby, if not her?

Chapter Four

It had snowed last night, dumping another six inches. Fortunately Highway 191 through the Gallatin Canyon had already been plowed by the time Beau dug himself out and drove to his office on the second floor of an old brick building in downtown Bozeman.

“Good morning, boss,” Marge said from behind her desk as he came in. Pushing sixty, solid as a brick wall and just as stout, Marge Cooke was as much a part of Tanner Investigations as the furniture.

“I’m on my way to the airport soon,” he said, taking the mail and messages she handed him. “I’ll probably be out of contact for a few days,” he said over his shoulder as he headed for his office. He heard her get up and follow him.

As he sat down behind his desk, he looked up to find her framed in the doorway. She lifted one dark penciled-in eyebrow and asked, “Since you never take any time off and I know you aren’t busy decorating for Christmas, I’ll assume you’re working. You want me to start a client file?”

“No, this is...personal.”

Just when he thought her eyebrow couldn’t shoot any higher, it arched toward the ceiling.

“It’s not personal like that,” he said, giving her a shake of his head.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He laughed. “I’ll be checking in, but I know you can handle things until I get back.”

“Whatever you say, boss. Far be it from me to suggest that you haven’t been on a date since a Bush was in office.”

“Clearly you forgot about that brunette a few months ago.”

“That wasn’t a date,” she said as she turned to leave. “And she made such an impression that you don’t even remember her name.”

He sat for a moment, trying to remember the brunette’s name. Sandy? Susie? Sherry? Not that it mattered, he told himself as he sorted through his mail and messages. He wouldn’t be seeing her again.

There wasn’t anything in the mail or messages that couldn’t keep.

Taking out the letter and the article Walter Justice had sent him, he read them again, then flattened out the article, wondering why it had been included until he saw the travel writer’s byline: DJ Price.

So was he to assume that DJ Justice’s pseudonym was Price? He typed DJ Price into his computer’s search engine. More articles came up, but no photo of the author. From the dates on the articles it would appear she was still employed as a freelance writer for a variety of publications. If DJ Price was DJ Justice.

He returned the article and letter to the envelope, folded them into his pocket and shut off his computer. As he walked out of his office past Marge’s desk, she said, “Shelly,” without looking up as he passed. “Wouldn’t want you straining your brain trying to remember the woman’s name all the way to the airport.”

Beau chuckled to himself as he made the drive out into the valley. He couldn’t help feeling anxious, since he had no idea what he was getting himself into. Nor did he know what to expect when it came to DJ Justice.

At the airport, he waited on the ground floor by the baggage claim area. There were a half-dozen people standing around holding signs. Dana Savage was one of them. The sign she held up read, CARDWELL RANCH. DJ.

He hung back as the arrivals began coming down from upstairs. On the drive here, he’d told himself there was no way he would be able to recognize DJ. She’d just been a kid of five all those years ago. He’d been a skinny but worn ten.

But the moment he laid eyes on the dark-haired woman at the top of the escalator, he recognized her. Dee Anna Justice. That brown-eyed girl had grown into a striking woman. Her hair was long, pulled back in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. Burnished strands had come loose and hung around her temples.

Silver flashed at her ears and her wrists and throat. She was wearing jeans, winter leather boots that came up to her knees and a teal blue sweater. She had a leather coat draped over one arm, and there was a carry-on in her hand.

She looked up in his direction as if sensing him staring at her. He quickly looked away. This was not what he expected. DJ didn’t look like a woman on the run. She looked like a woman completely in control of the world around her.

So what was he doing here?

* * *

DJ HAD STILL been upset as the flight attendant announced they would be landing soon. She’d stuffed her purse back under the seat. Out the window, she’d seen nothing but white. Snow blanketed everything. She’d realized with a start that she’d never felt snow. Or had she?

Now she surveyed the small crowd of people waiting on the level below as she rode the escalator down. She knew she was being watched, could feel an intense stare. But when she looked in the direction it came from, she was surprised to see a cowboy.

He stood leaning against the stone wall next to the baggage claim area. He was dressed in jeans, boots and a red-and-black-plaid wool jacket. His dark Stetson was pulled low, his blond hair curling at the neck of his jacket.

As he tilted his head back, she saw the pale blue familiar eyes and felt a shock before he quickly looked away. There had been a moment of...recognition. Or had she just imagined that she knew him? She tried to get a better look at him. Why had she thought she recognized him?

She had no idea.

He was no longer paying any attention to her. She studied his profile. It was strong, very masculine. He held himself in a way that told her he was his own man. He was no urban cowboy. He was the real thing.

She scoffed at the idea that she knew him. She would have remembered a man like that. Still, she couldn’t take her eyes off him and was startled when she reached the end of the escalator.

Turning toward the exit, she spotted a woman about her own age holding a sign that said CARDWELL RANCH on it, and in smaller letters, DJ.

The moment her cousin saw her, she beamed with a huge smile. DJ was surprised how that smile affected her. Tears burned her eyes as she was suddenly filled with emotion. She had the crazy feeling that she’d finally come home. Which was ridiculous, since she’d never had a real home life and, as far as she knew, had never been to Montana.

She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat as she wound her way through the small crowd to the young woman. “Dana?”

“DJ?”

At her nod, Dana gave her a quick hug. “Welcome to Montana.” She stepped back to stare at DJ. “You don’t look anything like the last Dee Anna Justice.”

DJ heard relief in her cousin’s voice.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” Dana said, then must have noticed that DJ didn’t know what she was talking about. “Your father did tell you about your former roommate pretending to be you.”

“No, I guess he failed to mention that.”

“Well, it’s water under the bridge... I’m just glad you’re here and I finally get to meet you.”

“Me, too,” DJ said, feeling that well of emotion again.

“We’ll get your luggage—”

“This is all I have.” Traveling light wasn’t the only habit she’d picked up from her father. She had stopped by the bank before she’d left San Diego. She took cash from her safe-deposit box, just in case she might have reason not to use her credit card. But that would mean that she was on the run and needed to hide.

Dana glanced at the overnight bag. “That’s it? Not to worry. We have anything you might need. Ready to see the ranch?”

She was. “I’m looking forward to it.” Again she felt someone watching her and quickly scanned the area. It was an old habit from the years when her father used her as a decoy or a lookout.

“Always watch for anyone who seems a little too interested in you—or the ones who are trying hard not to pay you any mind,” he used to say.

She spotted the cowboy. He had moved from his spot against the wall and now stood as if waiting for his baggage to arrive. Except he hadn’t been on the flight.

“Do you need anything else before we head out?” Dana asked, drawing her attention again.

“No, I’m good,” DJ said and followed Dana toward the exit. She didn’t have to look back to know that the cowboy was watching her. But he wasn’t the only one.

* * *

BEAU WATCHED DJ LEAVE, curious if anyone else was watching her. Through the large window, he could see Dana’s SUV parked outside. DJ was standing next to it, the two seeming to hit it off.

No one seemed to pay her any attention that he could tell. A few people were by the window, several taking photographs. In the distance, the mountains that surrounded the valley were snowcapped against a robin’s-egg-blue sky.

He watched DJ climb into the SUV. As it pulled away, there was the clank of the baggage carousel. The people who’d been standing at the window all turned, pocketing their phones. One man took a moment to send a text before moving to the baggage claim area. Everyone looked suspicious, and no one did.

Beau realized he was flying blind. He had to know why Walter Justice had hired him. He had to know what kind of trouble DJ was in.

Pulling out his phone, he stepped outside into the cold December afternoon. The air smelled of snow. Even with the winter sun shining against the stone wall of the airport, it was still chilly outside.

Beau was glad when the emergency number he’d called was answered. It took a few minutes for Walter to come on the line. He wondered what kind of deal the inmate had made that allowed him such service. Con men always found a way, he thought, remembering his own father.

“Have you seen her?” Walter asked at once.

“I have. But you might recall, I’ve seen her before.”

“She was just a child then.”

“She’s not now,” he said, thinking of the striking woman who’d come down those stairs. “That’s just one reason I need to tell her the truth.”

“No. That would be a mistake. You don’t know her—she doesn’t trust anyone.”

“Whose fault is that?” Beau asked. “If you want me to get close to her, you have to let me do it my way. Tell me what kind of danger she’s in.”

“That’s just it. I don’t know.”

Beau swore under his breath. “You expect me to believe that? I have to know what I’m up against.” Walter knew enough that he’d “hired” Beau.

Silence filled the line for so long, he feared the inmate had hung up. “It could have something to do with her mother.”

“DJ’s mother?”

“Sorry, not DJ’s mother. Carlotta is dead. Her grandmother Marietta is still alive. Marietta might have found DJ.”

“Found her?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m sure it is. But if you expect me to keep your daughter safe, you’d better tell me.”

There was a sound of clanging doors. Then Walter said, “I have to go. Call me tomorrow.” And the man was gone.

Pocketing his phone with a curse, Beau headed for his pickup. He couldn’t wait until tomorrow. He would have to do this his way—no matter what Walter Justice had said. He thought of the woman he’d seen. Years ago he’d yearned to save that brown-eyed girl. He was getting a second chance, but he feared he wasn’t going to have any more luck than he’d had at ten.

What the hell had he gotten involved in?

* * *

DANA CARDWELL SAVAGE was a pleasant surprise. DJ saw at once the family resemblance in this cheerful young woman with the dark hair and eyes. She was so sweet that DJ felt herself relax a little.

“We are so happy to have you here,” her cousin was saying. “Your father said that he’s been wanting to get us together for years, but with your busy schedule...” Dana glanced over at her and smiled. “I’m glad you finally got the chance. This is the perfect time of year to visit Cardwell Ranch. We had a snow last night. Everything is pretty right now. Do you ski?”

DJ shook her head.

“That’s all right. If you want to take a lesson, we can certainly make that happen. But you ride, your father said.”

“Ride?”

“Horses. It might be too cold for you, but it’s always an option.”

The SUV slipped through an opening between the mountains, and DJ was suddenly in a wonderland of white. Massive pine branches bowed under the weight of the fresh white snow. Next to the highway, the river was a ribbon of frozen green.

DJ had never seen anything like it. Or had she? At the back of her mind, she thought she remembered snow. The cold, soft flakes melting in her child-sized hand. That sense of wonder.

Dana was telling her about the Gallatin Canyon and some of its history. “I’m sorry,” she said after a few minutes. “I talk too much when I’m excited.”

“No,” DJ said quickly. “I’m interested.”

Dana smiled at her. “You are so different from the last Dee Anna Justice who visited us. Sorry. You said you hadn’t heard about it.”

“What happened?”

DJ listened and shuddered to think that she’d lived in the same apartment with someone like that. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t really know her. We shared an apartment, but since my job is traveling, I was hardly there.”

Her cousin waved that off. “Not your fault. That’s why we’re excited finally to meet the real you.”

The real you? DJ almost laughed. She hadn’t gone by her real name in years. She wasn’t sure she even knew the real her.

Chapter Five

Jimmy Ryan could hardly hold still, he was so excited. He couldn’t believe his luck as he saw the man come into the bar.

“You bring the up-front money?” he asked the moment the man took the stool next to him at the bar. The dive was almost completely empty this time of day. Still, he kept his voice down. This was serious business.

When the man had told him he was looking for someone with Jimmy’s...talents, he’d never dreamed how perfect he was for the job.

“Montana? Hell, I used to live up there, you know, near Big Sky,” Jimmy had bragged. He hadn’t been there since he’d flunked out of high school after knocking up his girlfriend and being forced into a shotgun marriage, but that was beside the point.

“I remember you mentioning that. That’s why I thought of you. So maybe you know the area?” the man had said.

“Like the back of my hand. I might even know the target.”

“Ever heard of the Cardwell Ranch?”

Jimmy had felt a chill as if someone had walked over his grave. This was too good to be true. “Are you kidding? I used to...date Stacy Cardwell.”

“Well, maybe you won’t want this one.”

As desperate as he was for money, he would have killed anyone they asked, even Stacy herself, though not before he’d spent some quality time with her for old times’ sake.

He’d thought it was fate when the man told him the hit was on a woman named DJ Justice, a cousin of the Cardwells. “Don’t know her. Don’t care even if I did. Just get me some...traveling money and then let me know how you want it handled.”

The man had said he’d get back to him, but it had to be done soon. Jimmy had started making plans with what he would do with all that money.

Now, though, he felt his heart drop as he saw the man’s expression. “I’m sorry. The client has decided to go with someone else.”

“Someone else?” Jimmy cried loud enough that the bartender sent him a look. “Come on,” he said, dropping his voice. “I thought I had it? I’m perfect for the job. Shouldn’t it be a case of who gets her first? If it’s the money—”

“They went with a pro, all right?”

“Excuse me?” Jimmy demanded, mad at the thought of losing the money and taking it as an insult. “I grew up in Montana. Do you have any idea how many deer I killed? You ever kill a deer?”

“A deer is a lot different than killing a woman.” The man threw down some bills on the bar. “For your time.” He slid off his stool and started to step away.

“You think that bothers me?” Jimmy had known some women he would have loved to have put a bullet in. He wouldn’t even have flinched.

As the man started through the empty bar toward the back door, Jimmy went after him, trotting along beside him, determined not to let him leave without getting the job.

“I’ll do it for less than your...pro.”

“I don’t think money is the issue,” the man said without looking at him. “She just wants it done fast.”

She? He was thinking jealousy, revenge, a catfight over some man. “So what did this DJ Justice do? Steal some broad’s old man?”

The man stopped at the door. Jimmy could tell that he was regretting giving him the details. “Look, forget this one, and maybe the next time I have something...” The man pushed open the door.

“You want to see a pro? I’ll show you a pro. I got this one,” he called after him. “I’ll find her first and I’ll be back for the rest of the money.”

* * *

STACY CARDWELL WIPED her eyes as the movie ended. She couldn’t help blubbering, not at the end of a touching love story. Maybe she was a sucker for a happy ending. Not that she expected one for herself. She’d picked the wrong man too many times.

But she was just happy to have her daughter, Ella, who was almost five years old. Ella had the biggest green eyes she’d ever seen and had stolen her heart even before she was born. Sure, Stacy got lonely sometimes, but she had her sister, Dana, and brothers, Jordan and Clay. Jordan just lived up the road. Clay was still in California but visited a couple times a year.

Years ago they’d had a falling-out over the ranch. Stacy still regretted it. But Dana had forgiven her, and now they were closer than ever.

“Hello?”

She quickly turned off the television as Burt Olsen, the local mailman, stuck his head in the front door of the main ranch house, where Stacy was curled up watching movies.

“Got a package for Dana,” he said. “Need a signature.”

Stacy waved him on into the house, smiling as he stomped snow off his boots on the porch before entering. Burt was always so polite. Dana was convinced that Burt had a crush on Stacy, but he was just too shy to ask her out. She was glad Dana wasn’t here to tease her about him.

“How’s your day going?” Burt asked, then quickly lowered his voice. “The kids asleep?”

She laughed and shook her head. “That would be some trick, to get them all to take naps at their ages. No, their grandpa took them sledding. I’m just holding down the fort until my sister gets back.”

“Saw your car out front,” Burt said. “Figured you might be sitting the kids. What’d ya think of that snow last night? Really came down. I’ve already been stuck a couple of times today. Glad I have chains on my rig.”

She nodded as she signed for the package. “Can I fill up your thermos with coffee? I have a pot going.”

“That would be right nice of you,” Burt said, blushing a little. He was a big man with a round red face and brown eyes that disappeared in his face when he laughed. He wasn’t handsome by anyone’s standards, but there was a warmth and a sincerity about him.

“He will make some woman a fine husband,” Dana had said more than once. “A smart woman would snatch him up.”

Stacy had never been smart when it came to men, and her sister knew it. But she liked Burt. If she had been looking for a husband... But she wasn’t.

When he returned from his truck with the thermos, she took it into the big farmhouse kitchen and proceeded to fill it with hot strong coffee. Burt had followed her only as far as the kitchen doorway.

“Having electrical problems?” Burt asked.

She turned to frown. “No, why?”

“I saw some feller up a pole not far from the house.”

Stacy shrugged. “Here, I made sugar cookies. I’ll put a couple of them in a bag for you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to...”

“Dana would insist if she was here,” Stacy said.

“Well, thank you.” He took the thermos and the plastic bag. “Shaped like Christmas trees,” he said, holding up the bag to see the cookies. “You did a real nice job on them.”

She felt her cheeks heat. Burt was so appreciative of even the smallest kind gesture a person did for him. “Thank you.”

“Well, I’ll be getting along, then.” He nodded, not quite looking at her. “Might want to dig out some candles in case that lineman turns off your power. You have a nice day now.”

“I’m going to try.” She watched him drive away, wondering when Burt was going to get around to asking her out and how she was going to let him down easy.

In the kitchen, she got herself some cookies and milk. Going back to the television, she found another Christmas love story and hoped Burt was wrong about the power man cutting off her television. She didn’t get that much time alone to watch.

But this show didn’t hold her attention. She wondered when Dana would be back with their cousin Dee Anna Justice and what surprises this cousin might bring to the ranch.

* * *

AS BEAU CLIMBED into his SUV and began the drive out of the airport on the newly constructed roads, his cell phone rang. The roads were new because Gallatin Field was now the busiest airport in the state. “Beau Tanner.”

“What is your hourly rate?”

He recognized Leah’s voice and imagined her standing in his living room. “You can’t afford me. Seriously, what is this about?”

“I lied to you. Charlie and I...we’re in trouble.”

Beau wasn’t surprised. “So, there isn’t an important package?”

“There is, kind of. I hate involving you in this.”

“I can’t wait to hear what this is exactly, but can we talk about it when I get home?”

“Yes. But I insist on hiring you. I have money, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That isn’t it. I have something right now that is going to take all of my attention.”

He got off the call, cursing under his breath. If this was about marital problems between her and Charlie...

He really couldn’t deal with this right now. Ahead he could see Dana Cardwell’s black Suburban heading toward Big Sky. Beau followed, worried about Leah and Charlie, even more worried about DJ Justice.

What kind of trouble was DJ in? Her father thought it might have something to do with her grandmother? That her grandmother had found her? He cursed Walter. Who knew how many skeletons the man had in his closet?

But what did that have to do with his daughter?

If Beau had to lay money down on it, he would have bet there was a man in DJ Justice’s story. A man with a jealous wife or girlfriend? Or had DJ chosen a life of crime like her father? At least Beau’s father had reformed somewhat after that night here in the canyon when Beau had made the deal with Walter Justice.

Since becoming a private investigator, he’d thought he’d heard every story there was. Where it got dangerous was when the spouse or lover would do anything to cover up an affair—or even a score. Usually money was involved. And passion.

So what was DJ’s story?

* * *

MARIETTA PISANI STOOD at her mirror, considering the almost eighty-year-old woman she saw reflected there. Merda! She looked as cranky as she felt, which almost made her smile. When had she gotten so old? She didn’t feel all that different than she had in her twenties, except now her long, beautiful, raven-black hair was gray. Her once-smooth porcelain skin was wrinkled.

She knew what had aged her more than the years—her only child, Carlotta. That girl had seemed determined to drive her crazy. It had been one thing after another from an early age. She shook her head, remembering the hell Carlotta had put her through, and then softened her thoughts as she was reminded that her beautiful, foolish daughter was in her grave.

Not that she hadn’t left a storm in her wake. And now Marietta had to clean it up.

“Can I get you anything else, Mrs. Pisani?” asked a deep, elderly voice behind her.

She glanced past her reflection in the mirror to Ester, who’d been with her for almost fifty years. Ester had grayed since she’d begun working here as a teen. Sometimes Marietta mixed her up with her mother, Inez, who’d been her first housekeeper right after her marriage.

“No, Ester, I don’t need anything.”

“What about you, Mr. Douglas?” Ester asked Marietta’s solicitor.

Roger shook his head. “I’ll be leaving shortly.”

“You can turn in,” Marietta told the housekeeper.

“Just ring.” The sixty-seven-year-old woman turned to leave. “Sleep well.” She’d said the same thing every night for the past fifty years.

As Ester closed the door behind her, Marietta focused again on her own reflection. Nothing had changed except now her brows were knit into a deep frown. Ester hadn’t been herself lately.

The thought caused Marietta a moment of alarm. Was the woman sick? Marietta was too old to train another housekeeper. Not that Ester kept house anymore. A housecleaning crew came in once a week, and she employed a full-time cook, as well. Ester’s only job now was to see to her mistress.

Of course, Ester didn’t see it that way. She resented the housekeeping crew and the cook and often sent the cook home early so she could take over the kitchen. She would then make Marietta’s favorite meals, just as her mother had done.

The thought that Ester might leave her for any reason was more than she could stand. Ester was the only person in the world Marietta trusted—other than her granddaughter Bianca. She tried to put her worries aside, assuring herself that she’d be dead before Ester went anywhere.

Still, it nagged at her. Not that Ester had said anything. It was more of a...feeling that something was wrong. Unfortunately she knew nothing about the woman’s personal life—or if she even had one. Ester had married some worthless man years ago, but she’d had the good sense to get rid of him early on. Since then, as far as Marietta knew, there was no one else in her life. Ester had doted on her and Carlotta and thought that the sun rose and set with Bianca.

When Carlotta had died a few months ago, Ester had taken it harder than Marietta. The housekeeper had loved that child as if she were her own. She’d helped raise her and was the first to make excuses when Carlotta got into trouble, which was often.

But the one Ester loved even more than life itself was Bianca.

It was her thirty-four-year-old granddaughter Marietta worried about now because of Carlotta’s deathbed confession.

She clenched her gnarled hands into fists at the memory. The stupid, stupid girl. The secret she’d kept from them all could destroy the legacy Marietta had preserved for so many years—not to mention what it could do to the family fortune.

That was why the mess her daughter had left behind had to be cleaned up. For the family’s sake. For Bianca’s sake and the generations to come.

“I should go,” Roger said.

She’d forgotten he was even still in the room. A slight man with an unmemorable face, he practically disappeared into the wallpaper. “You’re sure you can handle this properly?” she asked as she looked past her own image to his.

He sighed. “Yes.”

“I don’t want Bianca ever to know. If that means paying this woman to keep quiet—”

“I told you I would take care of it. But it is going to cost you. Your daughter left us little choice unless you want to see your family’s reputation destroyed by a complete stranger.”

A complete stranger. That was what Dee Anna Justice was to her. Marietta had never laid eyes on this...granddaughter, hadn’t even known she existed until her daughter’s deathbed confession. “Just see that it’s done and spare me the sordid details.”

“Don’t I always?” As he started to leave, she heard a rustling sound and looked up in time to see Ester skittering away.

* * *

DANA WAS TELLING her about the “canyon,” as the locals called the Gallatin Canyon. It ran from just south of Gallatin Gateway almost to West Yellowstone, some fifty miles of twisting road that cut through the mountains. Sheer rock cliffs overlooked the highway and the Gallatin River.

The drive was breathtaking, especially for DJ, who’d never been in the mountains before—let alone in winter. The winding highway followed the river, a blue-ribbon trout stream, up over the Continental Divide.

“There used to be just a few places in the canyon, mostly ranches or dude ranches, a few summer cabins, but that was before Big Sky,” Dana was saying.

DJ could see that luxury houses had sprouted up along the highway as they got closer to the ski resort and community that had grown around it.

“Our ranch was one of the first,” her cousin said with obvious pride. “It is home. The only one I’ve known. And I have no intention of ever leaving it.”

DJ couldn’t imagine what it must have been like living her whole life in one place.

Dana slowed and turned not far past the sign for Big Sky Resort. Across the river and a half mile back up a wide valley, the Cardwell Ranch house sat against a backdrop of granite cliffs, towering snow-filled pines and bare-limbed aspens. The house was a big, two-story rambling affair with a wide front porch and a brick red metal roof. Behind it stood a huge new barn and some older outbuildings and corrals.

“Hud, my husband, keeps saying we need to build a bigger house, since we have four children now. But...well...”

“It’s wonderful,” DJ said and tried to imagine herself growing up here.

“You’ll be staying in one of our guest cabins,” her cousin said and pointed to some log buildings up on the side of the mountain. “I think you’ll be comfortable there, and you’ll have your privacy.”

DJ was overwhelmed by all of it, so much so that she couldn’t speak. As Dana parked, a dark-haired woman came out on the porch to greet them.

“Stacy,” Dana called. “Come meet our cousin.”

Chapter Six

DJ thought Stacy looked like an older version of her sister. She’d been prettier at one time, but her face told of a harder life than Dana had lived. Seeing how much she resembled both of her cousins gave DJ a strange feeling. For once, her father had told the truth. These people were her family.

Dana introduced them and then asked her sister, “How were the kids?”

“Dad came by and took them sledding,” Stacy said. “He called just before you drove up to say he’s decided to take them to Texas Boys Barbecue, since they say they’re too starved to wait for supper. The café is owned by our cousins from Texas,” she said to DJ. Turning back to her sister, she said, “I’m working this afternoon at the sewing shop, so I’d better get going, since I need to pick up a few things before then.”

“Go, and thanks.”

Stacy looked to DJ, who’d been taking in the ranch in a kind of awe. “It was great to meet you. I’ll see you later?”

“You’ll see her. DJ’s staying for a while,” Dana declared and climbed the porch steps to open the door and usher DJ in.

She stepped into the house and stopped. The decor was very Western, from the huge rock fireplace to the antler lamps and the Native American rugs on the hardwood floors. Even the Christmas decorations looked as if they’d been in the family for years.

There was also a feeling of déjà vu as if she’d been here before. Crazy, she thought, hurriedly wiping at her eyes.

“It’s so...beautiful,” DJ said, her voice breaking.

Dana laughed. “My Christmas tree? I know it’s hard to put into words,” she said, considering the misshaped evergreen in the corner, decorated with ornaments obviously made by children. “But I’ve always been a sucker for trees that would never have gotten to be Christmas trees if it wasn’t for me.”

DJ managed to laugh around the lump in her throat. “I meant your house,” she said, smiling at the sight of the ungainly tree, “but your Christmas tree is...lovely. An orphan tree that you brought home. It’s charming.”

Her cousin smiled at her. “Let’s have a late lunch, since I know you couldn’t have gotten much on the plane, and we can visit.”

She followed Dana into the large, cheery kitchen, wondering if she hadn’t been here before. It felt strangely...familiar. Had her father brought her here at some point? Why else was she feeling so emotional about this large, rambling old house?

“I can’t tell you how surprised I was when I found some letters from your father and realized that my mother had a brother I’d never known existed,” Dana said as she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a large bowl. “I hope you like shrimp macaroni salad.” DJ nodded and Dana continued. “It wasn’t like my mother, Mary Justice, to keep a secret like that. Then to find out that he hadn’t actually died...” Her cousin put the bowl on the table and got out plates, forks and what looked like homemade rolls. “Coffee, tea, milk?”

“Milk.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had milk, but it sounded so good, and it felt right in this kitchen. Everywhere she looked she saw family history in this house. One wall was covered with photos of the children, most atop horses.

“Sit, please.” Dana waved her into one of the mismatched multicolored wooden chairs in front of the long, scarred table.

“I didn’t know about you, either,” DJ said as she pulled out the chair and sat. Dana joined her after filling two plates with pasta salad. DJ took a bite. “This is delicious.”

They ate in a companionable silence for a while. The house was warm and comfortable. From the window over the sink, DJ could see snow-laden pines and granite cliffs. It was all so beautiful, exactly how she had pictured Montana in December. She hadn’t thought she was hungry, but the salad and the warm homemade roll dripping with butter quickly disappeared. This felt so right, being here, that she’d forgotten for a while why she’d accepted the invitation.

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