“Sergeant Cole McKinney, Texas Ranger.”

Joey licked her lips in stunned silence.

This hot-as-all-get-out bad boy was Cole McKinney? The boy who’d been shunned by the McKinney family?

And he was a law enforcement agent?

“I see the wheels turning in your head, Joey Hendricks.” His husky voice skated over her raw nerve endings. “And yeah, I’m the sum of all those rotten things you were thinking. And a few more you don’t even know about.”

What did he know about the investigation? Something the Rangers hadn’t revealed to the press?

Her hand trembled.

Was he here to arrest one or both of her parents?

To Mallory Kane and Delores Fossen

for birthing this fabulous storyline and letting

me be a part of it. Here’s to more Rangers

stories in the future…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Award-winning author Rita Herron wrote her first book when she was twelve, but didn’t think real people grew up to be writers. Now she writes so she doesn’t have to get a real job. A former kindergarten teacher and workshop leader, she traded storytelling for kids for romance, and writes romantic comedies and romantic suspense. She lives in Georgia with her own romance hero and three kids. She loves to hear from readers, so please write to her at PO Box 921225, Norcross, GA 30092-1225, USA, or visit her website at www.ritaherron.com.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Joey Hendricks – Guilt-ridden over her brother’s disappearance/death, she will do anything to find out the truth about who kidnapped him – even if it means sending her own parents to jail.

Sergeant Cole McKinney – The bastard son of Jim McKinney has always dreamed of confronting the man who sired him, and his half-brothers. But helping exonerate his father is not in his plans…

Lieutenant Zane McKinney and Sergeant Sloan McKinney – Cole’s half-brothers have different theories about their father’s guilt.

Jim McKinney – This Texas Ranger’s career and life was ruined when he was accused of murdering Lou Anne Wallace.

Leland Hendricks – Joey’s father would do anything for money. But would he try to kill his wife and threaten his daughter?

Donna Hendricks – Donna blamed Leland for their toddler son’s disappearance. Does she know more than she’s telling?

Justin Hendricks – He was only two when he was kidnapped. Is he alive or dead?

Lou Anne Wallace Hendricks – She married Leland for his money, but couldn’t give up her lovers. The police are still looking for her killer…

Rosa Ramirez – The nanny adored both Joey and Justin. Would Rosa have committed murder to stop Leland’s kidnapping plan?

Governor Clayton Grange – He sent Joey to Justice to handle the media. Why is he so interested in the murders?

Justice for a Ranger

RITA HERRON

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Chapter One

Hell must have finally frozen over in Justice, Texas.

That was the only explanation for the phone call requesting his services from his half brothers, Lieutenant Zane McKinney and Sergeant Sloan McKinney, both Texas Rangers.

As was Cole, but they had never met or asked for his help on a case before.

Not him—the bastard, bad-boy brother they all hated.

Cole traced a proud finger over the silver star he’d earned through his own blood, sweat and tears. He was a sergeant now himself. He’d made the grade with no help. No financial support or fancy education. No loving, doting parents.

Not like Zane and Sloan.

A bitter laugh rumbled from deep within his gut as he threw his clothes into a duffel bag, stepped into the hot sunshine and climbed on his Harley. Dammit. He’d been ordered to leave his current case behind, come straight out of the trenches where he’d been working a lead on a smuggling ring along the border, to assist in Justice.

Of course, his half brothers must be desperate to exonerate their father, to finally free him of the murder charges that had hung around his neck like an albatross the past sixteen years. A murder investigation that had been revived because Sarah Wallace, daughter of Lou Anne Wallace, the woman his father had slept with and had been accused of strangling with her own designer purse, had just been murdered in the same hotel room, in the same manner.

And most likely by the same person who’d killed her mother.

Bitterness swelled inside Cole as choking as the insufferable summer heat. Did his brothers actually think he gave a damn about the outcome? That he’d come running to team up with them to save their father because he wanted to see Jim McKinney’s good name restored?

Jim McKinney—the father who’d abandoned him and his mother. The father who’d never acknowledged his existence. The father who had been nothing more than a sperm donor on his behalf.

The man who’d broken his mother’s heart.

Barb Tyler had never married after her short affair with Jim McKinney. She’d claimed Jim had ruined her for another man. And she’d taken that love with her to her grave no more than a year after Jim McKinney’s arrest. If Cole hadn’t known better, he’d have thought she’d died of grief for the man’s lost reputation herself.

He hated Jim for it.

Still, he was a Texas Ranger. Part of the most revered, effective investigative law enforcement agency in the world. And he was damn proud to be a lawman. God knows he’d been on a crash course to jail himself when Clete McHaven, the rancher his mother had cooked for, had caught him trying to steal from his ranch and had made him work off the debt or go to the pen.

He scrubbed a hand over his three days’ growth of beard stubble, knowing he looked like hell as he strapped on his biker’s helmet, cranked up the Harley’s engine and tore down the driveway. Dust and pebbles spewed from his tires as he careened onto the highway. Anger and determination had him pushing the speed limit.

Not that he was in a hurry to see the long-lost family that had cast him aside as if he was a leper.

But he had a chance to prove that a real Texas Ranger didn’t need book education or to be a good ole boy. That his tracking skills had earned him a spot as a top-notch lawman.

He had no intention of begging for accolades from the McKinneys, of trying to worm his way into their snotty huddle. Hell, he didn’t need them or their approval.

And he would not play favorites in the investigation.

Jim McKinney had been a bastard who couldn’t keep his pants zipped. And although he’d never been convicted of murder, if he had killed Lou Anne Wallace and her daughter, Cole would find out. Then he would snap the handcuffs around his wrists and haul him to jail where he belonged.

And he wouldn’t think twice about who suffered when he did.

TO SOME PEOPLE GOING HOME meant reuniting with loved ones. Reliving warm memories and seeing friends. Safety.

To Joey Hendricks it meant pain and anxiety. Opening wounds that had never healed. Dealing with her own guilt over her two-year-old brother’s disappearance sixteen years ago. And facing a mother and father she hadn’t spoken to in years. A mother and father who hated each other.

But she did work for the governor as a special investigator and when the infamous governor of the great state of Texas said jump, she jumped.

The sign for Justice, Texas, appeared, and she grimaced. At first sight, it looked like a cozy small town in which to raise a family. A place where everyone knew his neighbor, no one ever met a stranger and they would welcome her back with loving arms.

But secrets and hatred had festered in the town like sores that wouldn’t heal. And someone wanted to keep those secrets hidden. They’d murdered Sarah Wallace to do so and had tried to kill her sister Anna and the sheriff, Carley Matheson, when they’d searched for the truth.

Her heart turned over as she passed Main Street Diner. She’d been shocked when her mother, whose total culinary skills when Joey had been growing up constituted throwing together a plate of cheese and crackers to accompany her cocktail dinner, had bought the establishment. She’d been shocked even further to learn that Donna had given up the booze and pills.

Not shocked enough to want to see her just yet, though.

Oh, it was inevitable that she face both her dysfunctional parents, but first she wanted to learn more about the investigation. Just how much and what kind of evidence did the sheriff have against Leland and Donna Hendricks?

Late evening shadows cast gray lines across the street and storefront awnings as she spotted the Matheson Inn, where she’d reserved a room. She tightened her fingers around the steering wheel and veered into a parking spot, then stared at the burned-down ruins of the Justice jail. The sign for the police department had turned to black soot. Ashes, charred black wood, burned metal all lay in rubble. Only the metal bars of the jail cell remained standing, empty and exposed, as if still waiting for a prisoner. A stark reminder that the original killer had never been incarcerated. And now he’d murdered again.

Poor Sarah Wallace… Memories of her troubled teenage years haunted her. When Lou Anne and Leland had married, Lou Anne’s daughters, Sarah and Anna, had moved in with them for a short time. But they hadn’t been any happier about the union than Joey, so they’d moved out shortly after. She hadn’t been close to either of them, but she hated to think that Sarah had been murdered.

The stench of the fire and charred remains still filled the air, wafting in the suffocating heat as she climbed out. In front, a media crew and several locals had gathered, a camera rolling.

The very reason she was here. To control the media circus. More than one investigation had been blown because of some dim-witted or too-aggressive reporter. Innocent people had been tried and convicted in the process.

Other times the guilty had gone free.

The governor was adamant that the past not repeat itself. Lou Anne Wallace’s murderer had escaped sixteen years ago, as had the person who’d kidnapped Justin, Joey’s own baby brother. The town of Justice had never gotten over either event. Jim McKinney’s impeccable Texas Ranger reputation had been ruined because of his affair with Lou Anne and his subsequent arrest, his family shattered because of it.

And it had destroyed what was left of Joey’s already crumbling family, as well.

The governor had worked with the D.A.’ s office at the time of Lou Anne’s murder. Ironically Joey had been afraid that her family name would hinder her career, but the governor had given her a chance to prove herself. And she had. In fact, Governor Grange had been more of a father figure to her the past four years than her own dad had.

And he’d trusted her enough to send her here now, trusted her to be objective about the McKinneys. After all, Jim McKinney’s sons were in charge of the case. Rangers investigating one of their own, especially a family member—definitely a conflict of interest.

Tucking a strand of her unruly blond hair behind one ear, she buttoned her suit jacket and headed toward the media. Harold Dennison, a reporter who had a reputation for causing trouble, stood in front of the dilapidated ruins recounting the events of the night of the fire.

“Local sheriff Carley Matheson and Texas Ranger, former sheriff of Justice and hometown boy Sergeant Sloan McKinney were inside the jail when an explosion rocked the walls and caused the building to catch fire. Both Sheriff Matheson and Sergeant McKinney barely escaped with their lives.” The camera panned across the site, capturing the destruction and violence. “Sheriff Matheson has been taken to a safe house but continues to work in conjunction with the Texas Rangers to solve the current homicide, which appears to be connected to the murder of Lou Anne Wallace sixteen years ago.”

“Do they have any leads yet?” an elderly man asked from the crowd.

A woman in the front row hugged her children to her side protectively. “When will there be an arrest?”

“Did Jim McKinney kill Sarah Wallace and her mother?” someone else shouted.

Dennison caught sight of Joey, and a predatory gleam appeared in his eyes. “Good question. I see someone here who might have the answer.”

Joey braced herself for a confrontation. Dennison was like a snake coiled to attack anyone even remotely related to the crime.

And she was definitely related.

“Miss Hendricks is from the governor’s office and, I believe, one of your own homegrown girls.” He offered a challenging look that sent alarm bells clanging in her head. His comment had been a direct hit to irk her.

She’d heard his ugly insinuations before. As if she was unworthy of working with the esteemed governor. The daughter of a small-town drunk and a rich oil baron father who might have sold his own baby’s life for a dollar.

Well, a hundred thousand to be exact, but same difference.

“Would you like to address the citizens?” Dennison extended the microphone to her as if they were working together.

Not on his life, they weren’t.

But Joey had learned how to play the game with the big guns. And she’d be damned if she’d let this pigheaded moron intimidate her.

She pasted on a professional smile and accepted the mike. “Joey Hendricks here. I am a special investigator with the governor’s office. I want to assure the residents that the governor is aware of the situation in Justice. The Department of Public Safety and the Texas Rangers are working diligently to solve the recent homicide as well as the murder of Lou Anne Wallace, and the attempted murders of Anna Wallace, Sheriff Matheson and Sergeant McKinney. We intend to restore a sense of peace and order to Justice as soon as possible.” She smiled, injecting confidence into each word. “It’s imperative that you folks remain calm. If you have any information pertaining to these crimes, no matter how insignificant, please step forward. Together, we can end the terror seizing the town.”

Dennison arched a brow. “So that means that you’re prepared to own up to your family’s possible involvement in the murders?”

Heat caused rivulets of perspiration to collect on her nape. “I trust the Texas Rangers and Justice Police Department to find the truth.” She gestured toward the black-sooted police department building. “In spite of the recent demise of our local facility, the law enforcement agents are working 24/7. When information becomes available, I will see that it is dispensed to facilitate an arrest.” She leveled a warning look at Dennison. “After all, we don’t want the investigation ruined by false reporting or irresponsible press coverage.”

Dennison moved like a true viper. “Is it true that the police are focusing the investigation on your parents, Miss Hendricks? That your father tampered with his own surveillance tapes to hide his part in your brother’s kidnapping and murder? That he killed his wife, Lou Anne, because she intended to disclose his scheme?”

Joey’s insides clenched, a tremor running through her, although she tried desperately to mask any reaction. “As I said before, I will disclose information as soon as the facts become available. To speculate about unsubstantiated allegations would be detrimental to the investigation.”

He opened his mouth to continue his interrogation, but she cut him off with a withering look. “Thank you in advance for your cooperation.” She shoved the microphone back in Dennison’s hand and walked away.

Head high, shoulders rigid, she passed the inn, then the Main Street Diner and headed to the one spot in town that held a few precious good memories. Although there were bad ones there, as well.

The Last Call. She’d dragged her mother from the bar more times than she could count. Had driven her home and helped her to bed, listening to her vent her anger at Leland for his infidelities and her anguish over her missing toddler son.

But Joey had had her first taste of hard liquor in the establishment, too. And lost her virginity afterward.

A sardonic laugh escaped her. Sex was out of the question tonight.

But a drink was definitely in the picture.

Something strong to help her forget that her parents were once again smack-dab in the middle of a homicide investigation. That she blamed them for her brother’s disappearance.

That her own guilt was unbearable.

Suddenly a low roar rent the night air, and tires screeched. A lone headlight blared in her eyes. She froze momentarily, then realized it wasn’t a car, but a motorcycle careening toward her. A Harley with a leather-clad man all in black.

His tires screeched and sparks flew from the asphalt. He obviously didn’t see her.

And if she didn’t move fast, he was going to plow right into her.

Chapter Two

Cole gripped the handlebars with a white-knuckled grip as he skidded sideways. Sparks flew from the asphalt, and his tires ground against the gravel, sending small rocks scattering in a dozen directions. Instead of having the good sense to move, the leggy blonde froze in place, making the blood rush to his head and sending a shard of panic through his chest.

He had to miss her, but damn—he didn’t want to tear up the expensive machine below him, either.

Okay, she was much more important than his Harley, but still…

He caught the bulk of the bike’s weight with his muscled strength, tilted his body sideways to compensate for the spin and to keep the Hog from rolling, then roared past her and skidded to a stop near the rail hitching post in front of the Last Call. She jumped into the shadows of the awning just as he cut the engine.

Hissing a sigh of relief and frustration, he shot off the bike, whirled around and glared at her. Adrenaline fired his veins and sent a furious round of curse words sailing past his lips. He wanted to wrap his hands around her delectable little throat. “What the…didn’t your mother teach you not to stand in the street?”

“You moron!” she shouted back at the same moment. “You nearly killed me.”

Moron? “You’re questioning my intelligence?” He ripped off his helmet, then slung his hair out of his face. “Dammit, sugar, you’re the one who needs to watch where you’re going!”

“I could say the same thing to you.” She jabbed a sharp red fingernail at his chest. “I don’t know what kind of hole you crawled out of, but pedestrians have the right-of-way in this town, and the speed limit is…well, you were way over it.”

Her scathing words reminded him too quickly what he’d already known—that he shouldn’t expect a warm welcome in Justice. That some people here thought he was a low-life slime just because he was the bastard son of Jim McKinney.

The very reason he’d headed to the bar first thing.

Before he faced his half brothers the next morning, he intended to have a cold one, unwind and cool off. And where better to get the local scoop than the town’s pub?

Loose lips liked to talk….

A sliver of moonlight caught her blond hair and sassy eyes, and his gut did an odd flip-flop. She was the hottest woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Her bare legs came up to her neck, the suit jacket she wore had popped the top button and a generous amount of cleavage spilled over the top of a black lacy camisole beneath. Damn.

He’d never met a drink or a woman he didn’t like, or at least wanted to taste. And this was one tall drink of water that tempted his thirst, badly.

“You give every man you meet this much trouble?”

She gave him a scathing look. “Men are nothing but cheaters and liars. They use women, then walk away when they’re finished.”

“Ouch.” She’d been hurt badly by someone. He swallowed against the sudden dryness of his throat. He felt as if he’d eaten dust. Or maybe her comment hit too close to home. “What if I said I’m sorry?”

She tossed a silky-looking strand of hair over her shoulder. “For yourself or for the sorriness of all those with the Y chromosome?”

His mouth twitched. “Both.”

Her lips finally quirked. “All right. I…I…guess you’re forgiven.”

She glanced back at the jail cell standing like a monument in the center of town across the street, and he realized she might have just come from that media circus. She didn’t look happy about it, either.

He’d sped past it, irritated at the thought of facing the mangy reporters. He imagined the headlines with a snarl.

Poor little illegitimate son shows up in town to help exonerate his father.

So what was her problem with them?

Not that he cared, but looking at her was a nice diversion. “Let me buy you a cold one. You look like you need it as much as I do.”

“You can’t imagine.” She rolled her shoulders, and a whispery sigh escaped her that made his chest tighten.

Man, he did like women. All their softness. The way they smelled. The feel of their skin against his.

And hers looked soft and creamy. And her voice, now she’d stopped screaming at him, sounded low and throaty.

Sultry.

Oblivious to the train of his lustful thoughts, she sashayed ahead of him and reached for the door. His gaze latched on to the rounded curve of her hips in that short, tight skirt, and his hands itched to reach out and wrap themselves around her tush.

He shoved them into his pockets instead. Women were trouble, and he was here on business, not to get laid or involved with a local.

A sea of smoke and noise engulfed him as they entered the bar. Willie Nelson’s voice droned out from the jukebox, peanut shells littered the scarred wooden floor, and the scent of beer and cigarette smoke clouded the room.

Ahh, pure heaven to a man’s senses.

She hesitated slightly, though, and he noticed the men in the back stop their pool game to gape at her. At the same time, two old-timers sharing a pitcher turned to ogle her, and the bartender, a forty-something bald man with a thick neck, raised an appreciative brow. This girl would not be paying for her own drinks. No sirree.

But what would the jerks expect in return?

Cole’s protective instincts surged to life. “How about a booth?”

She plunked into a corner one, and he claimed the seat across from her, then shot the other men a warning look as if to say she was off-limits. Outside the shadows of night and the awning had shielded her face, but although the lights were dim now, he saw her face clearly. He’d thought he’d sweated outside in his leathers with the summer heat beating down on him on the ride into Justice, but his temperature skyrocketed toward the hundreds as he realized who this sexy bombshell was.

Joey Hendricks—he’d seen her several times on television beside the governor. Holy hell. She was a hotshot special investigator with the state.

And she was also the daughter of the oil baron Leland Hendricks, who’d been accused of the kidnapping and murder of his own child. Hendricks and his ex-wife, Donna, had been major suspects in the murder of Lou Anne Wallace.

The reason she was here hit him like a fist in his gut. She had come for the same reason he had.

Because of the Wallace homicide investigation.

And if he guessed right, her parents were probably suspects in this new murder as well as the first one.

JOEY STRUGGLED TO STEADY her breathing. Her adrenaline was still racing from the confrontation with Dennison and then nearly getting mowed down in the street. And the sight of this biker dude…wow.

All that black leather, dark black scraggly hair down to his shoulders, scruffy bearded face, sweat beading on his forehead gave him a threatening look.

But not in a way that said he might physically hurt her. In a way that screamed raw, primal sexuality. Like a man who’d just returned from a long, heated battle against a beast in the wilderness, a battle he’d no doubt won.

As he would win over any woman he met. All it took was one look into those enigmatic, brooding eyes and the sound of that husky deep voice, and she’d forgotten the fact that he’d nearly killed her.

The moron.

Then again, on closer inspection, his eyes did hold a level of intelligence. Street-smart, not all book-bred. This guy had been around and knew the ropes.

And heaven help her, that incredibly fit body conjured wicked fantasies. He had wide broad shoulders. Pecs to die for. Muscular thighs that could pin a woman beneath him while he tortured her with his tongue.

He gestured toward the bartender, and she took advantage of the moment to assess him in more detail. Even his hands were large, broad. His blunt, strong fingers were sprinkled with dark hair that made her wonder what they would feel like on her. Touching her. Stroking her sensitive skin.

A jagged scar jutted out from the neckline of his black T-shirt, and she imagined the rest of his body beneath. A chest sprinkled with the same dark hair, another scar maybe. And a tattoo or two hidden somewhere on his bronzed skin.

What was she doing? He wasn’t her type. She liked sophisticated, educated men. Men with jobs. Men who shaved and bathed regularly.

“What’ll you have, sugar?” he drawled.

You. She gaped at his mouth, then realized that she was acting like a fool. And Joey Hendricks, professional investigator for the governor, was not a fool. Never had been. Not over a man.

She’d taken notes from her parents’ disastrous divorce and her father’s infidelities, and decided relationships just weren’t worth the trouble. Although a one-nighter, especially with a hunk like this guy, might be fun. A stress release. Maybe even mind-altering. Certainly hotter than any night she’d experienced in years.

Then she remembered her reason for coming to Justice and vetoed the idea.

The drink would have to suffice. “A shot of tequila.”

He arched a thick brow, and she raised her own in challenge. “What? You don’t think I can handle it?”

“Honey, I think you can handle anything that comes your way.”

With one flick of his hand, he waved the waitress over—a twentysomething girl who turned eyes of adoration toward him—then ordered Joey a shot and a Stella for himself.

He would order a beer with a woman’s name. “You don’t like tequila?” she asked.

He leaned back against the booth edge, stretched his long legs out so one of them brushed hers beneath the table. “On the contrary. José and I have been best friends for years.”

She couldn’t help herself. She grinned at his statement. He looked like a tequila-drinking hellion straight from a biker’s fest. She imagined him stuffing dollars into the bras of women as they bared their chests for him, and her senses hummed with awareness.

What was wrong with her?

For all she knew he might be a freeloader who had women in ten different cities, and kids to go with each one. Kids he’d never claimed.

Or he could be a criminal.

He turned his dark eyes on her just as the waitress delivered their drinks.

“Thanks.” He grabbed the beer and moved the shot in front of Joey.

The girl stood beside him for a moment as if waiting for him to address her again. Annoyed when he didn’t pay her more attention, she gave Joey a decidedly unfriendly stare as if they were schoolkids fighting over the only boy in town.

Pickings must be slim in Justice. She should warn the waitress to steer clear of men like him—untrustworthy men in titillating packages that screamed with sex appeal—then decided to heed the warning herself.

She didn’t intend to be in Justice long. Then again, she’d have to stay until this case was solved.

And deal with her parents…

What if one of them was arrested? What if they were guilty?

Her lungs tightened at the thought, and she sprinkled salt on her hand, licked it, tossed down the shot, sucked the lime, then dropped the shot glass onto the table with a smile. As she swiped her hand across her mouth, an intense, hungry look flared in his deep-set eyes.

“You want another one, Joey?”

Her breath caught. How did he know her name?

The newscast…he must have seen it.

“In a minute. But I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.” She straightened, reminding herself that her image counted. Especially if she intended to counteract the negative one she’d been saddled with thanks to her mother and father’s tawdry actions. “You know who I am, but you haven’t introduced yourself.”

His cocky smile faltered slightly. As if stalling, he took a long pull of his beer, set it down and scraped his hair off his forehead. Then finally he leaned forward, his dark eyes trained on her. “Sergeant Cole McKinney, Texas Ranger.”

Joey licked her lips in stunned silence.

This hot-as-all-get-out biker bad boy was Cole McKinney? The Cole McKinney, illegitimate child of Jim McKinney? The boy who’d been shunned by the McKinney family?

And he was a Texas Ranger? A law enforcement agent?

Not a freeloading biker or a criminal.

“I see the wheels turning in your head, Joey Hendricks.” His husky voice skated over her raw nerve endings. “And yeah, I’m that Cole McKinney, a sum of all those rotten things you were thinking. And a few more you don’t even know about.”

“I…what are you doing here?” she whispered.

A bitter laugh followed, husky and filled with emotions she was certain he hadn’t meant to reveal. Then quiet acceptance registered in his intense eyes as if he expected skepticism. Even disdain.

And he probably did. He’d been an outcast from the town all his life.

“Believe it nor not,” he said quietly, “the Texas Rangers requested my services as a tracker to help find Sarah Wallace’s killer.”

Suddenly at a loss for words, she didn’t protest when Cole raised his hand and ordered her another shot. Instead she accepted it graciously, then studied him with a different eye. If the Texas Rangers had requested his assistance, he must be damn good at his job.

What did he know about the investigation? Something the Rangers hadn’t revealed to the press?

Her hand trembled as she turned up the second shot glass.

Was he here to arrest one or both of her parents?

COLE TOOK ANOTHER long pull of the beer, hoping the cold liquid would chill the fire burning his body. A heat caused both from his temper at her reaction to his name and his body reacting with lust to her every movement.

“So, Cole, how did you get to be a Ranger?”

A smile quirked his mouth. If he didn’t know better, he’d think he’d just made the woman nervous.

Then again, knowing what he did about her family, he figured the Rangers were probably the last people she wanted to see.

And his brothers probably would resent her interference, as well. Since the Rangers were part of the state agency, they’d think the governor sent her to spy on them. Hell, he probably had.

“I joined the Army at seventeen,” he said with a shrug. Unlike Zane, who’d gone to college, earned a degree in criminal justice and worked in criminal investigation. Or Sloan, who had been sheriff of Justice.

“Then I spent some time in the Middle East, got into military security.” Sniper training to be exact, but he didn’t have to spill his guts. Like how many kills he had under his belt. “When I got out, I joined the DPS and became a motorcycle state trooper for a couple of years.”

She cocked a brow at that, and he grinned. “The way you handled that bike, you must have grown up on a Harley.”

He laughed, then sobered as he remembered how hard he’d worked to earn his first bike. Just the way he’d scraped for everything in his life. “Naw, on a ranch, but I was a bull rider.” And he wanted to ride her.

The thought made him tighten his fingers around the long neck of the beer bottle. He could not get involved with Joey Hendricks. Even though he’d earned the college credits necessary for the Rangers, he was rough around the edges. He’d hunted down the worst dregs of society, worked undercover in operations that would make her head spin. He’d killed and not looked back.

She was sophisticated. Educated. Out of his league.

And although she worked for the governor and might not admit it, she was tied to this town and her family. Had a vested interest in protecting her parents, whereas he was tied to no one. Didn’t care who was arrested as long as justice was served. In fact, he wouldn’t be in town long enough to let the dust settle on his seat. And if he had to lock up one of his blood kin, so be it.

“So, you haven’t seen your brothers yet?” she asked.

“You mean half brothers?” He finished his beer, then grunted. “Nope. I’ll have that pleasure in the morning.”

She nodded, and drummed her fingernails on the table, then glanced around the bar, looking restless again. Or was she looking for someone in particular?

“What about you? Visited your family yet?”

Pain tightened her features. “No. Haven’t spoken to Mommy and Daddy dearest in years.”

Now, that surprised him. On second thought, he didn’t know why. From what he’d read about the homicide investigation into the case of Lou Anne Wallace, about Joey’s brother’s kidnapping and her mother’s past drinking problem, her family was as dysfunctional as the McKinneys. But still, family ties ran thick and deep.

Was she here in an official capacity, or had she come because of her own secret agenda—to see that her mother and father weren’t arrested for the crimes?

Chapter Three

Cole finally dragged his butt into the shower at dawn. He hadn’t slept worth a flip for thinking about the investigation and wondering how his brothers would react to the sight of him. Not that he cared…

And then there had been the fantasies about a certain sexpot blonde that had plagued him all night long.

After their drink, he’d walked her to the inn where they both were staying. Adding more fuel to the flames of his imagination, he learned she was in the room right next door to him, so they’d shared an awkward but titillating moment in the hallway as they’d said good night. Awkward because he’d damn near forgotten his head and kissed her. Titillating because he’d sensed she’d wanted it as much as he had, and that she would have let him.

Then they would have ended up in bed for some mind-blowing sex—at least that’s where the kiss had led in his fertile fantasy—and he would have at least felt sated, if not rested.

Now he just felt irritable and restless.

Because nothing had happened.

He showered and managed to find a razor, wishing he’d had time for a haircut, then cursed himself for worrying about his appearance. He didn’t give a damn what his brothers thought—or anyone else in town.

Grimacing, he dressed in his normal Ranger wear: clean jeans, a white Western shirt, boots, belt and tie. Determined to prove he was a top-notch Ranger himself, he pinned on his badge and grabbed his Stetson and the folder of notes he had collected on the first investigation of Lou Anne Wallace’s murder sixteen years ago. Then he headed to that diner he’d seen last night, to pick up some breakfast before he met the McKinney brothers and the local deputies for a briefing. If he was here to track evidence in the woods, he needed food and coffee, and lots of it.

After all, he had a big advantage over his half brothers. He wasn’t personally attached to Jim McKinney or anyone else in town.

A BLOODCURDLING SCREAM pierced the air and forced thirteen-year-old Joey from her peaceful sleep.

Her mother.

She threw the covers aside, jumped up and ran to the door. But when she swung it open, a thick plume of smoke curled through the hallway. The scent of charred wood and fabric hit her. Oh God, the house was on fire!

Her father…no, daddy was at his house .

She had to get to her mother…but where was she?

And little Justin?

His room was downstairs next to her mother’s.

Joey ran through the fog of smoke, feeling for the banister to help guide her, coughing and choking as she made her way to the door of the nursery. Flames licked the walls in the kitchen and crawled along the floor in the den. The curtains erupted into a ball of fire and sparks flew from the ceiling. Wood crackled and popped, splintering as the table collapsed into flames.

Her mother was already awake, standing at the crib.

Joey’s eyes stung from the smoke. “We have to get out of here!”

Her mother spun around, eyes wild with terror, a crazed expression on her face. “Where’s my baby? What did you do with him? You were supposed to watch him for me!”

Joey’s heart pounded as she rushed forward to check the crib. Little Justin was not inside. Panic stabbed at her chest, robbing her of air. Where was her baby brother? Had he crawled out? Could he be somewhere in the house?

No, please no, the fire…it might have gotten him already. Or he might have inhaled too much smoke…

Her mother jerked her by her pajama shirt and shook her. “Where is he, Joey? Where’s my baby? What did you do with him?”

“Mom! I don’t know. Let me go.” She yanked her mother’s fingers away. “I’ll look for him.”

The scent of liquor permeated her mother’s breath. “Tell me what you did with him!”

Joey’s heart wrenched. “I put him to bed…he was here.” A sob racked her, and heat scalded her face. The fire was slipping toward the hall. They had to get out.

“Please, Mom, call the fire department. I’ll hunt for Justin!”

Her mother threw her hands in the air. “No! He’s gone—he’s not here! Someone took him, I know it!”

“Mother, call the fire department. We need help! And get Rosa!” Joey frantically searched the room and closet to see if Justin might have hidden inside. But no Justin.

Outside, a siren wailed, indicating that someone had phoned the firemen. Probably Rosa. Thank heavens. Now, if she could just find her little brother…

But she couldn’t search with her mother in hysterics, so she dragged her into the hallway. The kitchen was engulfed in flames. She couldn’t go that way. The front door was smoky, the flames licking at the wall casing and rippling a path of fire in front of it. Her heart racing, she glanced around the room for her baby brother, but didn’t see him. Maybe he was in the playroom upstairs.

Suddenly Rosa raced into the hallway, a stricken look on her face. “Hurry! Out the window in my room!”

“We can’t, we have to find Justin!” Joey screamed. “Take Mom outside. I’ll look for him!”

She shoved her mother toward Rosa, and her mother crumbled in Rosa’s arms. Joey lurched toward the steps to search upstairs, but firemen crashed through the front, spraying water. Chaos erupted. One of the firemen grabbed Rosa and her mother, and another one ran toward her.

“Come on, this house is going down!” he yelled. “You can’t go upstairs! No time to save your things!”

“My baby brother…we can’t find him!” Joey cried.

The fireman gently coaxed her toward the other man. “Get out of here now! We’ll find the boy!”

JOEY JERKED AWAKE and sat up, sweating and shaking. Tears rained down her face, the familiar guilt and terror gripping her full force.

The chaos. The firemen hacking away the window, breaking glass. Pushing her mother, Rosa, then her outside. Them collapsing on the lawn and watching in abject shock as the flames engulfed room after room and the house collapsed in front of them.

The firemen eventually appearing through the haze of smoke and debris, looking dazed, frustrated, sorrowful.

Their arms empty. They hadn’t found Justin.

Then her father had driven up, frantic and acting like a madman as he discovered the horror.

For the next forty-eight hours, she and her mother had moved on autopilot. Her mother had had to be sedated. Her father had stalked the police for a report.

Joey had blamed herself. And in every waking or sleeping moment she’d heard her little brother’s cry.

Then finally a small amount of relief. The reports proved that Justin had not been in the fire.

He had disappeared instead.

The theory was that he’d been kidnapped. The fire had been a ruse to distract them.

And then a new kind of terror had seized them. Fear that a monster had Justin. A sexual predator. A child killer. They’d imagined the worst. And then the horrible wait. Hoping and praying for a phone call. A ransom note.

But the note and call had never come.

Which had made them all suspect that something had gone wrong with the kidnapping.

And that Justin was dead after all.

The nightmare had magnified tenfold after that. The police had turned on the family. Questioned them all. Donna. Her father. Even Joey and Rosa.

And eventually they’d accused her father of planning the kidnapping/murder for the insurance money.

Joey swiped tears from her eyes and headed to the shower. Although it had been sixteen years since that day, she still smelled the smoke and sweat on her skin. Still felt the flames singeing her skin, heard her mother’s cries of terror and the accusations she’d hurled. And the image of her father breaking down had been etched in her mind.

Had his tears been real? Or had he planned the disappearance of her brother and his grief had been an act?

Had her brother not disappeared, would her parents ever have reconciled? Not with Lou Anne in the picture…

The very motive the police had attached to her mother years ago.

Donna had cloaked herself in bitterness after the divorce. Mentally Joey recognized the fact that the problems between her parents had driven the family apart long before the kidnapping/murder. But Justin’s disappearance had ended any chance they’d had of reclaiming a normal, civilized relationship.

She would never be free of the guilt.

Her stomach twisted into a knot. She was here to help find the answers.

But heaven help her, she was afraid of what the grand jury might find.

IT HADN’T OCCURRED TO COLE when he’d entered the café that the owner of the Main Street Diner was Joey’s mother. But with her flaming red hair, he’d recognized her instantly from old news photos. Dressed in an immaculate pantsuit with pearls around her neck, she greeted the customers while an Hispanic woman she called Rosa bustled around filling coffee mugs and serving breakfast.

Donna had given him the once-over when he’d first entered, as if she thought she should recognize him but didn’t. And she’d glanced at him with hooded eyes a dozen times since, trying to figure him out.

He hadn’t offered up his identity. Right now his anonymity might play in his favor.

“More coffee?” Rosa asked.

He nodded and thanked her for topping up his cup. “Those biscuits were the best I’ve ever tasted.”

“Gracias, señor.” She strode away with a smile of pride, although when she joined Donna, they disappeared into the back room speaking in hushed voices.

He reread the notes on the kidnapping/murder investigation while he polished off his steak and eggs. Donna Hendricks’s drinking problem, coupled with her husband’s affairs, had led to a bitter divorce and custody battle. Both Joey, thirteen at the time, and Donna’s toddler son, Justin, were caught in the war, but Leland had won custody. Then one night, when Joey and Justin were at Donna’s, a horrible fire had broken out. Rosa Ramirez had been the caretaker/nanny and housekeeper for Donna when Justin had been kidnapped.

Cole had been a teenager himself, but news of the fire and kidnapping/murder of the toddler had been all over TV.

In the police reports, he skimmed Donna’s statement. Then Leland’s. Donna had been despondent over her son’s disappearance and the possibility of his death. She’d nearly had a breakdown and had been treated for depression. Leland had appeared to be distraught, had vowed to find his son and pay for his return, no matter the cost. Both had vehemently denied allegations that they were involved in a kidnapping/ murder scheme.

Joey’s interview had been the tale of a traumatized teenager. A kid who’d tried to save her drunken mother and find her baby brother in the midst of a blazing fire. A kid who probably still had nightmares of that night.

Then the speculations had started. Leland, the big oil baron, had been broke. He’d allegedly concocted a fake kidnapping/murder in order to collect on a life insurance policy. Donna had testified against her ex.

Leland had blamed Donna, and claimed that if she’d been sober, she might have heard someone break in and take their toddler.

They’d waited on a ransom note, one that hadn’t arrived. The police had grown suspicious, then finally they’d decided the fake kidnapping/murder had turned sour.

More details on the family dynamics had been disclosed. Lou Anne Wallace, Leland’s second wife, had been spoiled and supposedly married Leland for his money. She had her own kids, Anna and Sarah, and didn’t want custody of Joey or Justin. She especially hadn’t wanted a screaming two-year-old. And she’d never given up her affairs.

Cole grimaced. He imagined how miserable Joey must have felt, then clenched his jaw—he had to stop thinking about Joey Hendricks.

But her mother, Donna, was another story. She’d hated LouAnne Wallace for marrying Leland. Donna had speculated that since LouAnne hadn’t wanted the kids around, she had helped Leland with his scheme. Others suspected Leland murdered LouAnne because she intended to go to the police about his illegal plan.

But no one knew the truth.

Then Sarah Wallace had come to town a few days ago, supposedly with new evidence, but she’d been murdered before revealing the details.

All roads led back to the kidnapping/murder of Justin Hendricks. If they found out the truth about that night, they’d find the answers to the Wallace women’s murders.

The door creaked open, and he froze with his coffee cup midway to his mouth as Joey walked in. She looked gorgeous and sexy as hell. Her long blond hair was pulled back in a clip at her nape, and she wore jeans that outlined those long legs and her tight butt, and a soft, feminine blouse that gaped above her cleavage. His mouth watered.

Last night she had admitted she hadn’t spoken to her parents in years. He wondered what kind of fireworks would fly this morning between her and Donna.

What exactly did Donna Hendricks know about her son’s disappearance and the murders of the Wallace women?

JOEY HAD BRACED herself to see her mother, but the sight of Donna holding a coffeepot, looking so domestic, nearly bowled her over.

She didn’t know this woman at all.

Her mother had been a sloppy drunk. Joey had rescued her from brawls, helped her stagger inside the house when she’d passed out on the lawn, cleaned up her messes and put her to bed.

She’d also dragged her away from the nasty fights with her father, Donna screaming that her father was a lying, cheating bastard, Leland shouting back that Donna was a drunken whore.

Her mother glanced up at the door, then saw her and visibly paled.

Joey’s throat constricted. What had she expected? For her mother to race toward her with open arms and a welcoming hug? For forgiveness for not taking better care of Justin? For the unconditional love she’d never offered?

The room grew quiet, tension vibrating through the diner that smelled of hot sausages, coffee and cinnamon rolls. Her stomach roiled. Steeling herself against the small-town gossip and whispers, she glanced across the room, searching. For what she didn’t know. A familiar face? An old friend?

Not that she had any here.

Then she spotted Cole McKinney. In a sea of strangers, he looked like the least vicious of the sharks.

Heaven help her, but she headed straight for his table. Her legs felt shaky, and she clutched the table edge, then slid into the chair across from him without waiting for an invitation. He cocked one dark brow, then offered her a sideways smile of understanding. Her heart fluttered wildly, and she felt like kissing him.

Ridiculous.

Then again, she’d struggled with that same feeling the night before. A temptation she had resisted.

For good reason, too. She had no time for a fling or romantic entanglement, especially with Cole McKinney.

Although the first part of the night she’d spent fantasizing about what might have happened if she had relented. One hot kiss would have led to another. Then tawdry, naked, wild sex.

“Good mornin’,” he said in a sexy drawl.

Was it? She wanted to growl. She’d heard him next door tossing and turning and pacing the floor the night before, as well.

She had to inform the Mathesons that the inn walls needed better insulation against the noise.

She nodded anyway, though, unable to speak. Her voice was lost somewhere in between fantasies of Cole, the tremors remaining from her nightmare this morning and the stunned look on her mother’s face.

Donna slowly walked toward her.

Joey swallowed, then noticed the files that Cole shoved into a folder. Files about the murders. Files about her missing brother. An old photo of her and her parents at the police station being questioned after Justin’s disappearance.

His solemn look told her he understood her discomfort.

He had no idea. She was behaving irrationally. Running to him as if he was her friend. As if he could save her from herself and her family when he’d come here to investigate every last one of them.

Cole McKinney had no real connections to the town or her family. If he found any dirty secrets hiding in the closet, he would have no qualms about exposing them.

No, he wasn’t her friend. Couldn’t help her.

No one could.

Chapter Four

Donna Hendricks’s heels clicked ominously in the sudden stillness of the room. Cole watched, scrutinizing every movement. The other patrons craned their necks and their conversations quieted. Apparently they were as interested in the unfolding drama between mother and daughter as he was.

Although Joey tried to camouflage her nervous reaction, her breath rattled in the quiet tension as Donna paused beside the table.

“Joey…when did you get to town?”

Joey turned a steady, unemotional gaze on her mother. “Last night.”

Donna placed a coffee mug on the table, filled it for her daughter and glanced at Cole in question as if to ask if they were together. “Where are you staying?”

“I reserved a room at the Matheson Inn.”

Donna wet her ruby-red lips with her tongue. “And who’s your friend here?”

A small smile curved Joey’s mouth as if she was taking some perverse pleasure in watching her mother squirm. Or maybe in being seen with him in a town that lived for the rumor mill.

“This is Cole McKinney,” Joey said. “Sergeant Cole McKinney, Texas Rangers.”

Donna’s mouth widened into a shocked O, then she narrowed her penciled eyebrows. “You’re Jim McKinney’s other son?”

Cole gritted his teeth at her condescending tone and gave a clipped nod. He would never call the man his father.

Donna pressed a shaky hand to her throat. “Then you’re here about the investigation into Sarah Wallace’s murder?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Donna angled her head toward her daughter. “And what about you, Joey? Did you come to see me or your father?”

Joey cradled the coffee mug between her hands. “The governor sent me to oversee the case, and handle the media.”

Disappointment mingled with some other troubled emotion on Donna’s face. Pain? Guilt? Fear of being exposed? “I see. Have you talked to Leland yet?”

Joey’s look turned more strained. “No, but I’m sure I will. The Rangers will undoubtedly question him again. And I plan to sit in on all the interrogations.”

Donna studied her daughter for a full minute without a reply. Then as if disappointed in Joey’s comment, she gestured toward the menu. “Rosa will come and take your order.”

With a blistering look, she strode back to the breakfast counter, then disappeared behind the doors leading to the back. Rosa frowned and rushed toward Joey, although when she reached the table, she hesitated as if she wasn’t sure how Joey would accept her overture.

But Joey stood, sporting the first sincere smile he’d seen on her face. “Rosa…it’s nice to see you.”

Sadness tinged Rosa’s eyes as she hugged Joey.

“Let me get you some breakfast.” Rosa patted Joey’s shoulder like a doting mother. “How about one of Rosa’s famous Mexican omelets, the ones you loved when you were a little niña, sí?”

Joey shook her head. “No, thanks, Rosa. I…don’t have time.”

Cole removed some bills from his wallet and laid them on the table, uncomfortable with the private moment. Time to meet his brothers and get to work. “I have to go now. Breakfast was great, Rosa.”

She nodded and whispered, “Gracias, señor.” But her dark eyes also reflected a wariness that made him wonder if she was hiding something, as well.

He would find out sooner or later. A second later Joey caught up with him. “You’re on your way to the briefing?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going with you. I need to catch up on the details of the investigation.”

He frowned, held the door open for her, and they walked across the street to the courthouse in silence. As soon as they entered the conference room, which had been designated as a temporary office for the sheriff, the room quieted. Zane occupied the chair behind the desk as if he’d self-appointed himself head of command while Sloan was propped on the edge, looking like a relaxed hometown boy. A deputy stood by the window staring outside as if he’d been watching for Cole to warn his half brothers of his arrival.

Cole had seen pictures of both of them in the paper, had kept abreast of their careers, their commendations and awards. Both had been popular in high school. Zane, the valedictorian, Mr. JHS—Justice High School—and a quarterback on the football team. And Sloan had been a baseball star and won the state championship. They’d also been noted for their work in solving various high-profile cases.

But he had never met them face-to-face.

He was surprised at the way his stomach clenched. Both men resembled Jim to a degree, although there were subtle differences.

Judging from their solemn expressions they weren’t happy about meeting him. Fine, he was a necessary evil. Here to do a job, not make friends with his siblings.

Zane gave him a clipped nod of acknowledgment. “Glad you finally made it.”

Sloan’s look wasn’t as hospitable. “We’ve been waiting.”

Cole returned their greeting with a scowl. Then Joey entered the room, and the tension intensified to a deafening roar.

“What the hell is she doing here?” Zane asked.

Cole wasn’t surprised at their reaction.

Next to him, the last thing the Rangers wanted was a special investigator for the governor—and the daughter of a prime suspect—breathing down their necks as if the governor didn’t trust them to do their jobs.

But the governor obviously recognized that each of the participants had a personal interest in the outcome of the case. His half brothers and Joey included.

And the verdict was still out over whether or not any of them were on the same side.

JOEY PLASTERED her professional, detached face in place. No doubt her position here threw a kink in their family-run operations. The fact that she’d arrived with their illegitimate half brother hadn’t ingratiated her with the McKinney men, either.

But she refused to let these men intimidate her with their macho, own-the-town attitudes. She’d told the governor the McKinneys wouldn’t welcome her nosing into what they considered their investigation, but the case had drawn statewide attention, and the Rangers investigating one of their own, especially their father, meant lines could be crossed.

She smiled smoothly and claimed a seat at the conference table with the local deputies. “You know why I’m here. You’re too close to the people involved.”

“And you’re not?” Zane said sarcastically.

She shrugged. “My parents and I aren’t exactly tight. Besides, I’m a professional. The governor wants this case solved, and he’s the boss.”

“We’re professionals, too, and can handle the case just fine without you,” Zane said.

Joey folded her hands in front of her on the table. “Listen, I’m not going home until we’ve ended this investigation and someone is arrested for Sarah Wallace’s murder. So you’ll have to put up with me, boys.” She gave them a saccharine grin. “Besides, look on the bright side. I can run interference with the media. You don’t want a circus in town creating panic and trying your suspects before you make an arrest.”

Cole claimed the chair beside her, enjoying her spunky side. “All right, now that our happy little party is assembled, why don’t you fill us in on what you have so far? If I’m tracking in the woods today, I’d like to get started.”

Zane huffed and Sloan made a disgusted sound, but gestured toward the whiteboard on the wall, which held various facts, including the TOD for Lou Anne’s and Sarah Wallace’s murders.

“All right,” Zane began. “Sarah Wallace came to town to meet her sister, Anna, and share evidence she’d uncovered about their mother’s death. She used a prepaid cell phone, which we haven’t recovered yet, to phone Anna, but when Anna arrived, she found Sarah’s body in the hotel room. She was already dead, had been strangled like her mother. Later someone tried to kill Anna in the same way.”

“Why kill Anna?” Joey asked.

“Apparently the killer thought Anna knew something to incriminate him. Or her.”

Cole nodded. “Did she?”

“No. But later, Anna remembered a false bottom in one of their mother’s suitcases. Sarah had it with her,” Zane explained. “We examined it and found papers Sarah had hidden inside. The notes and papers indicated that Donna Hendricks might have intended to pay off Lou Anne for providing her with information about Leland’s alleged plans to fake the kidnapping and murder of his son. We’re getting a search warrant now to access Donna’s financial records, along with Rosa’s.”

“So you believe Lou Anne blackmailed Donna?” Cole asked.

Sloan nodded. “Lou Anne didn’t want more kids, so when she discovered Leland’s plan, she phoned Donna to tell her. She tried to blackmail Donna into paying her for the tip. We think Donna probably agreed, but Donna wanted Lou Anne to report Leland to the FBI.”

“Why wouldn’t Donna just go to the police herself?” Cole asked.

“Because she was bitter over losing the custody battle,” Sloan supplied. “Without evidence, Leland could have accused her of conspiring with him to pull off the kidnapping/murder. Or he could have accused her of orchestrating the entire plan herself and she’d lose any visitation rights with her children.”

“And no one would believe my mother because she was a drunk back then.” Joey understood the implied assumption. It was possible that when Lou Anne refused to go to the FBI, Donna had killed her.

“What about Rosa?” Joey drummed her nails on the table. “Why are you looking at her records?”

“She bought liquor and drugs for Donna,” Zane interjected. “If Donna wanted to hide money to pay off a blackmailer, she might have enlisted Rosa’s help.”

“Has Donna confessed to any of this?” Cole asked.

Zane grimaced. “No, not yet.”

“While Zane’s been handling the grand jury, I stepped in to help Sheriff Matheson,” Sloan said. “We were studying the papers Sarah left when the fire broke out in the jail. Then someone tried to shoot Carley.” Anger hardened Sloan’s face. “She’s in a safe house now, but she’s searching Donna’s financial records for more details.”

“So you’re focusing on my parents now?” Joey asked. Could one of them be a murderer? Had her mother or father killed Lou Anne, and now Sarah? Had one of them really shot the sheriff to keep her from finding out the truth?

Her stomach knotted again. “I thought Leland had an alibi for the night of Lou Anne’s murder?”

Zane’s boots hit the floor with a thud. “We discovered that he tampered with the surveillance cameras, so his alibi is shot.”

“What about your father, Jim McKinney?” Joey asked. “He was seen leaving the inn that night.”

The men traded an odd look.

“What are you not saying?” Cole asked.

Sloan twisted sideways and Zane clenched his jaw. “We haven’t ruled out Jim yet.”

“And Stella?” Joey asked. “She hated Lou Anne for her affair with Jim.”

Pain flashed into both men’s eyes. “Stella had a breakdown,” Zane said. “She’s in the hospital, despondent. I’m not sure how much more information we’ll get from her.”

“Dad…” Sloan paused, then continued, “Jim agreed to see a psychiatrist to try to jog his memory of the events of that night, but Stella got upset and told him no. Then she broke down. The stress has been unbearable for her.”

“She was always fragile,” Zane said in a low voice.

Joey frowned and steepled her hands. They seemed completely focused on making her parents out to be the villains. And Zane and Sloan were keeping secrets. Something about Stella and their father.

Her cell phone rang, and she checked the number. Governor Grange.

“Excuse me, guys. I have to take this.” She stepped away from them and answered the call.

“Joey, how’s it going in Justice?”

“The Rangers are conferencing now,” Joey said. “No definitive leads yet. They’ve brought in Sergeant Cole McKinney to track evidence in the woods near the inn.”

A long sigh filled with tension followed. “I hope they tie this up soon and put the guy responsible for these murders away. How is Dennison?”

“I can handle him,” Joey said.

“Good. Keep me posted.”

Joey agreed and pocketed her phone, contemplating Zane’s and Sloan’s summary of the investigation.

What were the McKinney brothers hiding?

If her parents were guilty…well, she’d have to find a way to accept it. But if they were innocent, she didn’t want them railroaded to jail for a crime they hadn’t committed. After all, they had suffered terribly over Justin’s death.

Perhaps Stella had suffered a breakdown out of guilt. Maybe she had killed Lou Anne and had hidden behind a weak woman’s facade all these years to deflect suspicion from herself.

COLE TRIED TO IGNORE the quick flash of worry in Joey’s eyes. He’d just met the woman. He could not let himself care about her or how the outcome of this investigation might affect her personally.

“So, what exactly am I looking for?” Cole asked.

“We need an expert to search the woods by the inn,” Sloan said. “The night Sarah Wallace was murdered, Sheriff Matheson saw a figure in dark clothing. She chased the culprit into the woods, but he shot her in the ribs. Actually cracked one. We’d like to recover any bullet casing or other evidence that you might find.”

Cole stood. “I assume you have a horse available, along with the standard crime scene kit and supplies.”

Zane stood, as well. “At your disposal.”

“Meanwhile, I’m going to get that search warrant for Donna’s records,” Sloan said.

Cole nodded, anxious to get outside. He loved the fresh air, the scents of nature, the sunshine beating on his face. Fieldwork was his specialty, not digging through files, although he did plenty of that, too.

Twenty minutes later, he saddled a beautiful quarter horse named Apache, strapped on the supplies he’d need in the saddlebags and rode into the woods. Sloan and Zane had searched the edge, so he needed to go deeper. Find out how the killer had escaped. Locate that bullet.

Although it had rained recently, and some evidence might have washed away, he slowed Apache to a walk and studied each section of the forest, each patch of weeds and each tree for signs that someone had recently been through. A broken branch. Trampled bramble. An indentation in the bark not made by an animal. Each detail provided a clue and indicated he was on the right track.

He noticed a footpath along with muddy prints, although dead leaves and debris created problems in lifting a print. Still, he tied Apache to a tree and combed the area on foot, kneeling to inspect the markings and the ground. He photographed each patchy section and collected dirt for trace in hopes that they might be able to match it to a suspect’s shoes and make an arrest.

Working diligently, he took a partial molding of the footprint, as well. It would give them a general clue as to the size of their suspect. A fiber from a piece of clothing was caught in a branch, and he removed an evidence bag and tweezers, snagged the fiber and bagged it to send to forensics. The next few hours he combed each mile of the woods, then finally traced his way back toward the inn and his horse. He found two other fibers, along with more footprints—muddied and misshapen, different from the first ones—so he took the best print he could lift.

Not for the first time, he considered the fact that they might be dealing with more than one perp here. What if the killer had an accomplice? Donna and Leland could have worked together. Or one of them could have hired help to do their dirty work.

About seventy-five feet to the right of where he’d tied Apache, he noticed a shattered piece of bark on a live oak. He removed the magnifying glass from his bag and examined it, then decided a bullet had scraped past. He collected the sample, bagged it, then turned and assessed the area. The bullet had grazed Carley, then bounced off the tree, which had slowed its descent. Noting the location where Sloan said the sheriff had been running, and had been shot, he estimated the trajectory of the bullet and where the shooter might have been standing when he’d fired. Zeroing in on the angle, he calculated the speed and scrutinized the other foliage until he located the shell. With gloved fingers, he picked it up and studied it. A .38.

Hell, half the town probably owned guns, and half of those were probably .38s. But modern science could do wonders. If they had a suspect and his gun, they would be able to match it.

He searched for other bullets and evidence, but found nothing. A few feet away, though, something shiny glinted through a patch of bramble. Sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled down his neck as he recognized the item.

The silver star of Texas—a Ranger’s badge.

The badges were handmade from Mexican silver coins, making each one unique, and easily identifiable to its recipient. Some badges still had coin lines on the outer rim of the circle, and you could see the peso on the back of the badge. The coin on the back wasn’t always at a perfect upright angle, either, and had distortions caused from being handmade.

He swallowed against the sudden dryness in his throat as he lifted it to the sun. When Jim McKinney’s badge had been reported missing years ago, right after Lou Anne Wallace’s murder, a description had been posted. The badge had three coin marks on the lower right star point.

He flipped the badge over and grimaced as he scrutinized the point.

If he was right, this star had belonged to Jim McKinney, his bastard father. According to police reports, Jim had claimed he’d lost it the night Lou Anne Wallace was murdered.

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