For a moment, her breath caught.

She found Maddox in her kitchen, scrambling eggs on the stove with a mug of coffee in his hand. The big, tough-looking cowboy seemed at ease in the kitchen, but his jaw was still set in that firm line, and when he looked up at her, a dark wariness had settled in his eyes.

He poured her a cup of coffee and handed it to her, their fingers brushing. A tingle rippled through her at the heat, but he yanked his hand back quickly, then scooped the eggs onto a plate.

“We need to talk.”

Rose’s instincts surged to life, and she sank into the kitchen chair. She sipped her coffee. “You found something?”

He shook his head then joined her at the table, his big hands wrapped around the mug. “That’s just it, Rose. I ran a background check on Thad Thoreau and didn’t find anything.”

She frowned. “Nothing incriminating?”

“I mean nothing,” he said, emphasizing the last word. “As in the Thad Thoreau you knew doesn’t exist.”

Lock, Stock

and McCullen

Rita Herron

www.millsandboon.co.uk

RITA HERRON, a USA TODAY bestselling author, 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 to kids for writing romance, and now she writes romantic comedies and romantic suspense. Rita lives in Georgia with her family. She loves to hear from readers, so please write her at PO Box 921225, Norcross, GA 30092-1225, USA, or visit her website, www.ritaherron.com.

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Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Prologue

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

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

There were days and nights when he didn’t know if he could do it.

Kill Rose.

He remembered her smiling face as a child. That striking red hair. Her singsongy voice. The way she’d looked at him as if he hung the moon.

After she’d disappeared from his life, he’d dreamed about her. Had wanted to find her. Had asked his father over and over where she’d gone and if she was coming back.

His father had told him to forget her.

Then, years later, he’d stumbled onto the truth.

And he hadn’t known what to do.

Mistakes had been made, his father said—mistakes that had cost lives.

Mistakes that, in the end, could save others.

His resolve kicked in. Unfortunately there was no turning back now.

Rose Worthington had to die.

Chapter One

Sheriff Maddox McCullen did not want his father to die.

But he was dying anyway, and Maddox couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.

He clenched the doorknob to his father’s bedroom door, his stomach fisted into a cold hard knot.

He’d looked up to Joe McCullen his whole life, admired his father’s love of the land and the way he’d run the family ranch, Horseshoe Creek. It had been passed down from one McCullen to the next for generations and had made men out of all of them.

His father was as tough as steel and had worked hard. He’d bred thoroughbreds and raised cattle and treated his ranch hands with respect and authority.

But he would be gone soon, and Maddox had to take over. Not that he wasn’t prepared. The ranch was in his blood. Taking care of it and the town gave him a purpose.

Mama Mary, the housekeeper and cook who’d practically raised him, met him at his father’s door. Short, plump and sturdy, she’d squished him in her big loving arms since he was a child.

“How is he?”

“Resting,” she said, her hands gripping a tray holding a teapot and empty cup. “But he wants to see you.”

Maddox rapped gently on the door, then pushed it open, forcing himself not to react to the changes in the big, strong man who’d taught him how to shoot a rifle, ride a horse and rope a calf. His father had lost more weight, his eyes looked sunken and his hand shook as he raised it to cover a cough.

Dammit. Maddox was a take-charge man, a doer. He fixed people’s problems. He didn’t like this feeling of being helpless.

But his father needed him to be strong. He sure as hell didn’t need to see his oldest son break down.

“Dad?”

“Come on in, Maddox. We need to talk.”

God, not another discussion of his will and how and where he wanted to be buried.

“What is it? Can I get you something?”

A sheen of sweat coated his father’s pale forehead. “No, but there is something you can do for me.”

His dad waved him over, and Maddox crossed the room, his boots pounding the wood floor. He dragged the straight chair in the corner next to the bed, straddled it, then removed his Stetson.

“Anything, Dad. You name it.”

His father pushed himself to a sitting position, then raked what little hair he had left back from his forehead. “It won’t be long now—”

“Don’t say that, Dad.”

His father’s hand shot up to cut him off. “Let me finish. It won’t be long, but before I die, I need to see your brothers. There’s something I have to talk to each of you about.” He coughed again, then struggled for a breath, making Maddox’s own chest ache.

“I know you all don’t get along,” his dad continued, “and that’s partly my fault, but it’s important I see Brett and Ray.”

Maddox swallowed to temper his anger. How could he deny his father’s last request? He had a right to say good-bye to each of his sons.

But resentment made him seethe inside. Brett, two years younger than him, had always been irresponsible, a love-’em-and-leave-’em womanizer who’d left home seven years ago chasing his dreams of fame on the rodeo circuit.

And Ray...hell, Ray was the rebellious son. Ever since he turned thirteen, he’d clashed with their father. Maddox had no idea what Ray was up to now, although his youngest brother had skirted the law a few times.

Neither Brett nor Ray had been home to see his father since...well, he couldn’t remember when.

That had suited Maddox just fine.

“Will you call them, son?”

Maddox gave a clipped nod.

A weak smile tilted the corner of his dad’s mouth. “Families need to stick together. Try to bridge the gap between you and your brothers, son. You all need each other.”

Maddox gritted his teeth. He might just be asking the impossible.

“Maddox?”

Words hung in his throat, but he forced them out. “All right, I’ll try.”

Relief softened the harsh planes of his father’s face, and Joe visibly relaxed and closed his eyes. “Just let me know when they get here.”

“I will.” Maddox strode to the door, but his father’s request haunted him.

He would track down Brett and Ray—at least they owed his father the courtesy of a goodbye.

But he didn’t expect them to stay. And he didn’t need them. He didn’t need anyone.

Hell, he’d assure them they could go their separate ways as soon as they paid their visit.

* * *

ROSE WORTHINGTON HAD been alone for so long that she couldn’t believe she was finally getting married.

She inhaled the lavender scent of the bubble bath, laid her head back and soaked in the decadent claw-foot tub.

Her fiancé, Thad Thoreau, was on the other side of the door putting together a romantic midnight picnic for the two of them to eat in bed. Since neither of them had family to speak of, they’d opted to save money and elope. Pistol Whip, Wyoming, was small-town, a blip on the radar of Wyoming, and was reminiscent of an old Western movie set—not exactly the setting Rose had envisioned for her nuptials.

So they were on their way to Cheyenne for the ceremony. But Thad had pulled off the highway and driven to a cabin off the beaten path, saying they’d have a romantic night before the wedding.

She opened her eyes and glanced at the vintage ivory dress she’d bought for the special occasion tomorrow, her heart fluttering with excitement. The string of pearls Thad had given her lay in the velvet box beside the pearl comb she’d bought for her hair.

She held her hand up and splayed her fingers, admiring the way her French-cut halo diamond sparkled in the candlelight.

Tomorrow she would become Mrs. Thad Thoreau.

Not only would she have a husband to hold her and love her every night, but one day they’d also have a family.

A pang of regret nagged at her for not calling her parents and telling them about her engagement. But they hadn’t gotten along since she was a teenager. For some odd reason, ever since she was little, she’d sensed she didn’t belong with them. That they were a wrong fit. That she was a problem they didn’t know how to get rid of.

And then there had been the awkward conversations she’d overheard, the whispered comments, the looks...

The secrets.

They’d wanted to send her away. She’d heard them plotting that one night.

So as soon as she’d turned eighteen, she’d packed and left. Her parents hadn’t stopped her. In fact, they’d said it was probably for the best.

Who thought it was best not to talk to your own child?

When she had a baby, she’d make sure her little one knew he or she was loved, that she’d do anything for her child.

The water turned chilly, and she climbed out and dried off, then pulled on her robe. Footsteps sounded from the master bedroom, and she eased open the door.

Thad’s voice echoed from where he stood by the window, and she realized he was on the phone.

“Yes, she’s the one. I’m positive.”

Her heart swelled with gratitude to have found Thad. For so long she’d built walls and kept herself from loving anyone, too afraid to get hurt. But then Thad had walked into her antiques store, Vintage Treasures, and stolen her heart.

Just last week he’d shown her a photograph of the estate he owned in Cheyenne. They were headed there the day after their wedding. Apparently he had inherited family money, which he’d invested, and he’d accumulated his own fortune.

Not that she cared about the money. She wanted companionship, love, a real family...

She started to slip into the room, to inch up behind him and surprise him with a kiss, but he lifted a flyer of a picture of a little girl on a milk carton, a child of about five years old.

“Yes, I’m certain it’s her,” Thad said. “The woman I’m with is the little girl on the milk carton.”

Rose frowned. What was he talking about? How could she be the child? Those ads were placed for missing children...

Thad walked over to the side table, opened his briefcase and removed a pistol. Rose tensed, her heart tripping into double time. Why did he have a gun?

“Don’t worry,” Thad said, his voice low, as he loaded the weapon. “Your problems will soon be over. She’ll be dead by morning.”

* * *

MADDOX MUTTERED A CURSE as his brother’s voice mail clicked on. The first time he’d called, he’d gotten Brett’s publicist, but he refused to go through a third party with such a personal matter, so he’d dialed the number again.

Did Brett even answer his own calls?

“Brett, it’s me, Maddox. I know we haven’t talked in a while—” two years to be exact, but he bit back a snide comment “—but it’s important. Dad is sick, really sick... He’s dying, Brett, and he needs to see you. Call me.”

Maddox paced to the fireplace, his gaze drawn to the photograph of him and his brothers when they were young. He was about ten, Brett eight, Ray six. Close in age, they’d wrestled and fought and raced on horseback as kids.

But they’d grown apart after their mother’s death and were as different as night and day.

What the hell would he say to them if they did return?

Upstairs, the house seemed quiet and he hoped his father was resting. But his request nagged at Maddox. He didn’t especially want his brothers here. He and his father got along great.

He had no idea how he’d live without him.

But...he had to honor his dying request, so he searched for Ray’s number. It took him a half dozen calls through various sources he’d had over the past years to track down his youngest brother’s current location.

While he punched in Ray’s number, he strode to the bar in the den and poured himself a whiskey. Brett had been irresponsible and wild, but he hadn’t possessed Ray’s anger and temper.

The phone rang and rang. No answer. Dammit.

He left Ray a voice mail, then carried his drink outside to the front porch. The night air filled his lungs, the heat nearly oppressive as he sank onto the porch swing and looked out at the McCullen land. Acres and acres of farm and ranch land that bordered on the mountains and held elk, deer, antelope and other wildlife.

He loved Horseshoe Creek and would keep it up when his father was gone.

But what would he do if Brett or Ray actually wanted to stay and help run it?

* * *

COLD FEAR WASHED over Rose. Had she misunderstood Thad?

Had he really said she’d be dead by morning?

“Trust me, no one will find her body.”

Rose struggled against the urge to scream. Why would Thad or the person on the other end of the line want her dead?

Was that the reason he’d insisted on them eloping? So he could dump her body in the miles and miles of wilderness around Pistol Whip?

Terror seized her, and she stumbled backward. She caught herself by grabbing the counter, but her hand hit the hair dryer and knocked it to the floor. Suddenly footsteps clattered, and Thad stood in the doorway with the gun in his hand.

The cold look of a seasoned killer greeted her. “Eavesdropping, Rose?”

She shook her head in denial, then glanced around for a weapon, but the bathroom held nothing. Except for her hairspray.

Desperate, she reached for it, but Thad pounced toward her. She jerked up the can and sprayed it at his face. Thad cursed and rubbed at his eyes, then tried to grab her. “You won’t get away, Rose.”

Taking advantage of the moment, she shoved him and ran. He bellowed and chased after her, waving the gun at her.

A bullet pinged off the wall beside her. Hands shaking, she grabbed her purse and fumbled for Thad’s keys on the table.

Suddenly Thad yanked her by the hair and dragged her toward him. She screamed again, fighting him as he threw her to the floor. Her head hit the tile and pain ricocheted through her temple.

He straddled her, then lifted the gun and pointed it at her head.

Rose’s vision blurred, death whispering her name. Another image came out of nowhere—another gun. Another man. The sound of a gunshot firing.

Blood spraying everywhere. The floor, the walls...

What was happening...?

Thad’s fingers closed around her wrists, tightening so painfully that a sob escaped her.

But reality surfaced and the blurred image of the other shooting faded. The will to live kicked in, giving her a surge of adrenaline, and she used one hand to knock the gun upward. He cursed, and she slammed her fist into his crotch, causing him to double over and roll off her.

She lunged to get away, crawling on her hands and knees into the bedroom, but another gunshot pinged off the floor beside her. Her foot hit the lamp as she tried to get up, sending it crashing to the floor.

Terrified, she reached for the gun and managed to snag it. They struggled with it, both trying to gain control, but the gun went off. Thad grunted, then his eyes widened in shock and he looked down at his chest.

Blood oozed from his torso and soaked his shirt. Frantic, she pushed herself up, grabbed her purse and ran outside. The night sky was dark, void of stars, the endless sea of wilderness swallowing her as she raced to his sedan.

“You can’t get away,” Thad shouted as he staggered onto the porch after her.

She jumped in the car, keeping her eyes on Thad, her hand trembling as she fumbled with the keys. Three tries and finally the engine fired up.

Thad staggered down the steps, one hand to his bloody chest as he collapsed. She pressed the gas pedal, shifted into Reverse and sped backward, slinging dust in her wake. Thad managed to lift his head and raised the gun and fired again, but he was too far away and the bullet hit the dirt.

She swung the sedan around, stomped on the accelerator and roared down the graveled road to the highway. Nausea clogged her throat as she dug in her purse for her cell phone. Dammit, she had no service!

Tears streamed down her face as she drove back toward Pistol Whip. She repeatedly checked over her shoulder in case Thad found a way to follow her. But she didn’t stop until she drove into the small town and parked at her rental house.

Fighting a sob, she careened into the drive, threw the car into park and dove out. She ran up the steps to the porch, the keys jangling as she let herself inside. Her phone was ringing as she entered. She flipped on a light in the hallway, then raced to get it.

Whoever it was, she’d get rid of them and call the sheriff. Maddox McCullen would know what to do. He’d help her.

But a sinister voice echoed from the other side of the phone. “You can run, but you can’t hide, Rose. I’ll find you.”

Chapter Two

“No, Ray, I’m not exaggerating.” Maddox grimaced at the fact that Ray had even suggested such a thing. “Dad is...dying. Emphysema.”

Silence stretched between them for a long minute. Maddox braced himself for Ray to deny his father’s request. How he’d explain that to his father he didn’t know.

“I’ll think about it,” Ray said in a belligerent tone.

“Do more than think,” Maddox said tersely. “The least you can do is to say goodbye to him. You two might have butted heads, but he is your father.”

Ray muttered something ugly that Maddox couldn’t understand, but he refrained from asking him to repeat it. He didn’t want to know.

He’d given up understanding Ray a long time ago.

His phone beeped that he had another call, and he sighed in relief. Sad that he welcomed a work call to save him from talking to his own flesh and blood. “I’ve got another call I have to take. Now get your butt home. If you don’t, I’ll track you down and drag you back to Pistol Whip myself.”

He didn’t bother to wait on a response. He clicked over to answer the other line. “Sheriff McCullen.”

“Sheriff, it’s Rose Worthington.”

Maddox frowned at the way her voice warbled. “What’s wrong, Rose?”

“Someone...my fiancé...he tried to kill me tonight.”

Shock bolted through Maddox. He’d seen Rose around town, even lusted after her a few times. How could a man not? She had silky red hair, raspberry-ripe lips and a body that made a man want to bury himself inside her.

But he’d been too busy taking care of his father and the ranch, and protecting the town, to get entangled with her. Besides, she’d had a ring on her finger.

“Did you hear me?” Rose said. “He tried to kill me tonight.”

Maddox swung into professional mode. “Where are you?”

“My house,” Rose said. “Please hurry. I’m afraid he’ll come after me.”

“What’s your address?”

“Two-thirty-one First Street.”

“I’m on my way. Just stay on the line.” Maddox fastened his holster and gun and hurried outside to his squad car. “Tell me what happened?”

“Before he attacked me, I heard him talking on the phone. He said I’d be dead before morning. He had a gun and I tried to run, and he grabbed me and...the gun went off.”

“Are you hurt?” Maddox flipped on his siren and sped toward the street where Rose lived. A Mustang pulled out in front of him, and he beeped his horn and passed it, irritated to see the driver on his cell phone. If he’d had time, he’d have pulled the jerk over, but Rose sounded terrified and he needed to hurry.

She might still be in danger.

* * *

ROSE SHIVERED AS she peered out her front window. Was Thad dead?

Or if he’d survived, had he followed her here? Was the person he’d been talking to watching her?

Nausea rolled through her, and she checked to make sure the door was locked, then looked down and realized she was still wearing her robe. Her diamond glittered beneath the light, a reminder of how excited she’d been when she and Thad had left for their trip. All her hopes and dreams were going to come true. Thad loved her.

All lies.

Revulsion mingled with humiliation. She ripped off the ring and tossed it into a drawer, then turned to go upstairs to get dressed. But a noise sounded above and she froze, terrified someone was upstairs.

No...she was probably just paranoid. It was just the furnace...

But...what if the mysterious voice had been calling from inside the house?

A siren wailed, and she pulled back the curtain again and watched as the sheriff’s car spun into the driveway. She ran to the door, threw the lock open and rushed outside to the porch.

Seconds later, Sheriff McCullen stepped from the vehicle, his tall frame emerging in the shadows.

“Rose?”

“I’m here.” Her voice faded as she ran down the steps toward him. He rushed toward her and she fell into his arms, trembling as a sob escaped her.

* * *

MADDOX PULLED ROSE into his arms, cradling her close as she shuddered against him.

He murmured soothing words to her and stroked her hair, hating himself for noticing that it was just as soft as he’d imagined when he’d seen her around town.

What kind of man lusted after a woman when she was quaking in his arms from nearly being killed?

“You’re all right, now,” he said, lowering his voice to a gentle pitch. Both his brothers had told him that he sounded like a bear when he talked. He couldn’t help that he’d been given a deep baritone voice.

It came in handy when he wanted to intimidate a suspect. Not so much when a frightened woman was looking for someone gentle to comfort her.

She clung to him, rasping for breath. “You’re safe now, Rose. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

She heaved another breath and sniffled, her damp tears soaking his shirt. “I’m sorry. I...didn’t know what to do. Who to call.”

“I’m the sheriff,” he murmured. “I’m here to protect you and everyone in this town.”

She nodded against his chest, her sobs finally subsiding. Then she lifted her chin and looked up at him. The pain in her eyes tore at him.

She blinked, tears glistening on her eyelashes in the moonlight that seeped through the clouds.

“Let’s go inside and you can tell me everything.”

Her lower lip quivered as she released him and folded her arms around her waist. She stumbled on a fallen tree limb on the ground, and he steadied her as they walked up the steps to the porch. When they made it to the doorway, she froze, her eyes widening again in fear.

“I thought I heard a noise upstairs earlier.”

He immediately drew his gun and coaxed her aside. “Wait here. Let me check the house.”

She nodded and gripped the doorjamb as he scanned the living room to the left. It was clear, so he veered to the right and scanned the kitchen, which was connected to the living room by a breakfast bar. The kitchen was empty, so he took the staircase, his senses honed for sounds of an intruder.

The furnace kicked on, rattling in the silence, and he paused at the top of the staircase to glance into the room to the right.

An iron bed covered in a pale blue-and-white quilt dominated the room, and an antique dresser held perfume bottles and candles by the bathroom door. He went inside, instincts alert, but saw nothing amiss. A quick check in the closet told him this was Rose’s room. Feminine dresses, blouses and shoes filled the closet.

Exhaling slowly, he turned and crossed to the room on the opposite side of the hall. This must be a guest room. The bedding was simple, with a white coverlet on a four-poster Shaker-style bed, and there was a Shaker-style dresser by the wall. The closet held a few containers stacked with extra clothing and items.

But the rooms were clear.

Relieved, he headed back down the stairs. Rose was pacing by the fireplace, her hands worrying the belt of her robe, her face pale.

“No one is upstairs.”

“Let me put some clothes on,” she said as if she suddenly realized how naked she was.

He nodded. He needed her clothed so he could forget about how she’d felt in his arms and focus on the reason someone had tried to kill her.

* * *

ROSE THREW ON a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, fighting a sob. Thad had not only made a fool out of her but he also wanted her dead.

Why?

She glanced in the mirror, shocked at the woman she saw looking back. Her eyes were puffy and red with dark circles beneath them, her face bruised, her hair stringy and tangled. She didn’t even look like herself.

Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she dragged a brush through the tangles, then slowly descended the steps, relieved that the sheriff had made it to her house so quickly. She didn’t know Maddox McCullen very well, but everyone in town said he was decent and hardworking—a family man.

A man to trust.

God knows she’d trusted the wrong man so far.

“I’ll make coffee,” she said, desperate for something to do with her hands as she met him at the foot of the staircase.

He gave a grim nod and followed her to the kitchen. An awkwardness, thick and unsettling, cloaked the room as she measured the grounds and filled the coffeepot with water, and they waited on it to brew.

She removed two mugs from the cabinet. “Sugar or cream?”

“Black,” he said.

Just as she’d expect from a man like him. Everything about Maddox screamed alpha male. Strong, take-charge...masculine.

When it was ready, she filled his mug. He blew on his coffee for a moment, and she gestured toward the pine table and sank into a straight chair. He joined her, still silent, as if he knew she needed time to pull herself together.

Finally she shoved her hair from her eyes, took a deep breath and began. “Thad suggested we elope yesterday,” Rose said. “Since neither of us have family that we’re close to, I agreed.”

“You were anxious to get married?”

She nodded, although heat flooded her cheeks. Why did men make it sound as if women were desperate to get married? “I thought he loved me, that we were going to build a life together.”

His jaw tightened. “Go on.”

“We decided to go to Cheyenne for the ceremony, but on the way Thad said he knew this private little place off the path, that we could spend the night and have a romantic evening before the wedding.”

“So you went to this cabin?”

“Yes.” Rose sipped her coffee, tidbits of the last twenty-four hours taunting her. Little things that at the time had seemed insignificant, or even thoughtful, now took on a sinister meaning.

“At first, I thought it was eerie when he drove down this dirt road to the cabin, but he had flowers and wine and...he said he wanted us to be alone, and he made it seem romantic.”

“Did you tell anyone where you were going? That you were eloping?”

She shook her head. “I wanted to call Trina, my assistant at the antiques shop, but he said it was more fun if it was our secret, so I texted her that I was taking a couple of days off and asked her to manage Vintage Treasures.”

“You didn’t tell her where you were going?”

“No, no one knew.” Self-disgust ate at her. “Now I understand the reason. He planned to kill me and leave me in the wilderness so no one would find me.”

Silence lingered for a full minute before Maddox asked, “What happened at the cabin?”

She massaged the scar at the base of her temple, a nervous habit she’d had since she was young. “I went to take a bubble bath while he was supposedly setting up a picnic for us. But when I got out of the tub, I heard him talking on his cell phone.”

“Who was he talking to?”

“I don’t know.” The conversation echoed in her head, making her blood run cold. “I heard him say that I was the one... At first, I thought he meant it romantically. That I was the one he loved, the one he was meant to be with.”

The irony of that statement seemed to hit both of them. “Then what happened?”

“He held up this flyer. It had a picture of a little girl on a milk carton on it.”

Maddox’s brows drew together in a deep frown. “A little girl?”

“She was about five years old.” She fidgeted, still trying to make sense of it. “Then he said I was the one they’d been looking for, and that I’d be dead by morning.”

A heartbeat passed. “He meant that you were the girl on the milk carton?”

“Yes,” Rose whispered, her agitation mounting. “But that doesn’t make sense.”

“He didn’t elaborate?”

“No.” She shivered. “Instead, he pulled a gun from his briefcase.”

“Did you know he carried a weapon?”

“No, I’d never seen it.” She twisted her hands together. “But it scared me, and I stumbled. Then he saw me and came after me.” Her breath came out in spurts as fear once again seized her. “He shot at me and missed, and we fought. I tried to get away but the gun went off again.”

Maddox covered her hand with his. “Go on.”

“I shot him, Maddox. I didn’t mean to, but the bullet hit him.” She blinked back more tears, her heart pounding. “Blood soaked his shirt, and I was terrified, so I ran to the car. He staggered to the door and fired at me again.”

Another tense silence. “Did he follow you?”

“I don’t know, he collapsed on the ground,” she cried. “I think I might have killed him.”

Chapter Three

Tears filled Rose’s eyes again, the terror returning. She could still see the sinister look in Thad’s eyes, see him lunging for her with that gun.

“You didn’t call an ambulance or the police?”

Rose tensed. “No, I tried my cell as I was leaving and there was no service. Then all I could think about was escaping.”

He lifted her wrists, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he noted the bruises. “He grabbed you here?”

“Yes,” she said, remembering the horror of his fingers clenching her as Maddox gently stroked the tender area.

“Can you tell me where this cabin is?” Maddox said.

“I don’t know the name of the road we turned off on. But...I could probably find it.”

He stood. “I have to go out there and see if he’s still alive.”

Nerves fluttered in Rose’s stomach. What if Thad was dead? Would she be arrested for murder?

* * *

MADDOX CONSIDERED CALLING the Cheyenne Police Department, but figured he’d assess the situation first and find out if Thoreau was dead or alive.

He texted Mama Mary to let her know that he might not be home tonight, and to call him if his father’s condition changed.

“I understand it may be difficult for you, Rose, but do you mind riding with me and guiding me to the cabin?”

Wariness darkened her eyes, but she squared her shoulders as if to gather her courage. “No, I’ll take you there.”

He led the way outside, giving her time to lock the door. She still seemed wobbly as they walked to his car, and he opened the passenger door and waited until she settled inside before he circled around to the driver’s seat.

Anxiety vibrated between them as he veered onto the highway and drove through Pistol Whip, which was situated in a flat stretch between the mountains. Land spread out before them, miles and miles that were untamed, where antelope, deer, elk and other wildlife thrived.

Tourists wanting a frontier town and trail riding, or a layover on their way to Laramie or Cheyenne, often stopped in Pistol Whip. Hikers, mountain climbers and fishermen especially took advantage of the proximity to the majestic mountains and river.

Locals had created a small museum showcasing the area’s history. Apparently in the late 1800s, a famous gunslinger had ridden through the hills in search of a hideout. When three local vigilantes discovered his identity, they strung him up in town and pistol-whipped him to death.

The town council at the time dubbed the town with the name Pistol Whip to remind people that they couldn’t take the law into their own hands.

“Tell me about your fiancé,” Maddox finally said. Any background information on their relationship would be helpful.

Rose toyed with a string on the bottom of her T-shirt. “We met in Cheyenne,” she said. “I was there for an antiques show, and he was on business.”

“What kind of business?”

“He worked...works for an energy company.”

“Did he mention the name of it?”

Rose rubbed at her temple just as he’d seen her do at her house. Obviously a nervous gesture. As she pushed her hair back, he noticed a scar at her hairline, a jagged one that disappeared into the hair on the crown of her head.

It looked as if it ran deep and went across her skull. He wondered what had happened.

“I don’t think he ever said the name of it. Or if he did, I forgot.”

Because she’d been snowed by his charm.

“Did he mention anyone he worked with? Business clients or friends?”

Rose chewed her bottom lip for a minute. “No. Wait...I heard him talking to someone named Carl once.”

“Do you remember his last name?”

She shook her head. “He just said he’d fax him the information he needed. But I didn’t hear what the conversation was about.”

Had he been vague because he was hiding something?

“Do you have one of Thad’s business cards?”

“I might have one at the house.”

“Good. When we go back, get it for me.”

Cacti and scrub brush dotted the land as he left the small town and drove through the countryside. Winter had set in, the ground dry and barren-looking.

“How long did you date?”

“About six months.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Obviously he had no intention of ever marrying me. He...was probably lying to me the entire time. But why would he kill me over a photo or think I was that girl?”

“Good question.” Maddox grimaced. This guy had targeted Rose. “The fact that he was talking to someone on the phone about you means he was either working for this other person or he had an accomplice.”

Rose turned to look out the window, her face drawn as if she was lost in the horror of the evening.

“What about his family? You said earlier that you were eloping.”

Rose nodded. “He said he lost his parents a few years ago, but he’d inherited family money.”

Could have been more lies. Hell, Thoreau might not even be his real name. “What about yours?”

“My parents...well, we haven’t spoken in a while.” She lapsed into a sullen silence. Obviously the subject was painful for her and she didn’t want to elaborate.

He wouldn’t probe for now. Not unless he discovered her family had something to do with Thoreau.

But if Thoreau was dead...hell, he’d have to dig into every aspect of her life. Because Rose would need a defense.

If the flyer of that picture on the milk carton was there as she said, that would be a place to start.

* * *

ROSE WANTED NOTHING more than to forget what had happened earlier this evening. But she had to find out if Thad was dead.

Fear clenched her stomach at the thought that she’d killed a man, even if it was in self-defense. But she’d never been the kind of woman to run from a problem and live in naive bliss.

Just as she’d faced the fact that her parents hadn’t wanted her, that she’d been a mistake. Well, they had taken care of her, but there had always been an awkwardness between them, a distance, as if the woman and man, Ramona and Syd, didn’t want to get too close.

As if they couldn’t really love her.

She’d been a difficult child, they’d said. Sullen, angry, withdrawn at times...

A crooked tree with several broken branches caught her eye, and recognition dawned. She remembered the tree because it had made her think of herself. She’d felt broken and alone so many times.

“Down that road,” she said, her voice rough with emotion.

Maddox swung the car onto the side road. “You’re sure?”

She nodded and rubbed at her arms as a chill swept over her. “When Thad veered onto the road, I remember wondering if he’d made a wrong turn. It looked like we were going nowhere. But he promised me a night I’d never forget.” A sarcastic laugh rumbled from her. “That’s certainly true.”

Maddox didn’t comment. He didn’t need to.

Winning her trust had been part of Thad’s charm. He’d intentionally driven off the grid, far away from other houses and people so no one would hear her scream for help when he killed her.

The barren land and ridges of the nearby mountain range sent another chill through her. If he’d succeeded, he would have dumped her body in a ravine or thrown her over a cliff and left her for the animals to ravage.

And no one would have looked for her or even realized she was dead.

* * *

MADDOX HOPED TO HELL Rose was telling him the truth. The whole truth and not a fabricated version she’d invented to cover some dark secret.

The idea of locking her in a cell held no appeal. But he was a man of the law and he’d do whatever necessary to see that justice was served.

He made a quick call to his deputy, Roan Whitefeather, and asked him to make the rounds in the town because he was busy, but he didn’t explain. He’d check things out himself first.

The car bounced over the ruts in the dirt road, desolate land passing, the sliver of moonlight barely illuminating the trees and landscape. An animal darted into the wooded area to the left, and Rose pointed to a narrow side road.

“There. The cabin is that way.”

Night noises surrounded them, the deserted area eerie with the sound of a coyote howling, a reminder that the state was on an alert for coyotes with rabies. And that it was the perfect place to dispose of a body.

But what motive did Thoreau have? And who else wanted to find Rose?

“The cabin is in that hollow by the creek,” Rose said.

Maddox’s instincts went on alert as he scanned the area for a car or another person waiting to ambush them.

But there was no car and he didn’t see movement. Not even a light on in the cabin nestled in the copse of pines.

“Did you turn the lights off when you left?” Maddox asked.

Rose tensed, straightening to examine the graveled drive as they approached. “No, I was in a hurry, running to get away.”

Senses alert, Maddox slowed the car and parked, his gaze fixed on the cabin and dark woods surrounding it. “Did Thoreau say how he found this place?”

“No.” Rose rubbed at her arms again as if cold. “I didn’t ask. I...I trusted him.”

Maddox studied the area for tire marks. With his headlights shining on the ground, he spotted one set that had made indentations into the dirt. Obviously Rose’s tire prints as she’d backed away and sped from the cabin.

He cut the engine and his lights, that coyote still howling like it was hunting for prey, and he removed his holster and checked his Colt.

He reached for the door handle. “Wait here and let me check out the house.”

“What if the other man is out here?” Rose asked in a strained voice.

“There’s no sign of a car here,” he pointed out.

Rose touched his hand. “Let me go with you. I...don’t want to stay here alone.”

Maddox sighed, hating the fear in her voice. But he understood it. She’d been through hell and back tonight.

“All right, but stay behind me.”

She nodded, and he grabbed a flashlight, climbed out and shut his door gently, his boots crunching grass and twigs as he walked around to the passenger side. She opened her door and slid out, and he gestured for her to stay close as they walked up to the porch.

The flashlight illuminated the ground, and Maddox scanned it for evidence, also darting suspicious looks around the perimeter of the property and front of the cabin.

“I don’t understand,” Rose whispered. “He chased me out here and collapsed at the bottom of the porch.”

Maddox narrowed his eyes and shone the flashlight across the porch. Rose sounded so sure of what she was saying, so frightened.

But there was no body. No blood.

No sign of Rose’s fiancé anywhere.

Chapter Four

Rose stared at the empty porch in shock. “I don’t understand. He fell...and he was bleeding.” She pointed to the bottom step, where she’d seen Thad collapse, blood oozing from his wound. “I...didn’t see him get up.”

“But you were trying to escape?”

“Yes.” She looked at the drive. “His sedan was under that tree.”

“Where did you say he was hit with the bullet?”

Rose lifted her gaze, the images of her struggle with her fiancé flashing back. “The chest...at least I thought that was where the bullet went in, but it happened so fast.”

Maddox shined his flashlight all along the boards of the porch floor. “Either he got up on his own or someone helped him.” He kneeled and examined the slats. “I don’t see blood, either.”

“But he was bleeding,” Rose said, confused. She started inside the house, but Maddox caught her arm.

“Wait and let me search the place first.” His dark eyes flickered with worry. “He could be hiding, Rose, nursing his wound.”

Maddox held his gun at the ready and gestured for her to stay back. Rose clutched her hands together, trembling as he inched inside the cabin.

Had Thad survived?

If he had...he might come back for her.

* * *

MADDOX EASED INTO the entryway, his senses alert as he glanced left and right. He strained to hear sounds from inside—footsteps, breathing—but he heard only the floor creaking and the eerie sound of a faucet dripping in the silence.

He scanned the living area but other than a faded couch and chair, the room was empty. No signs of blood or bullet casings either.

He crept to the adjoining kitchen and looked around. Hadn’t Rose mentioned that Thad was planning a picnic?

There was no evidence of food or drink, or that anyone had been here. The sink was empty, even clean, and he opened the cabinets to see dishes and glasses neatly organized.

The dripping water pinged again, and he headed toward the sound and found the leak in the tub. The scent of cleaning chemicals and bleach assaulted him.

Had Thad cleaned up?

He still didn’t see blood, but he’d get his kit from his car and spray with luminol. That might turn up something. Although it was possible the bullet had only grazed Thad.

Veering to the left of the bathroom, he found the bedroom. An iron bed draped in a quilt sat against the wall with the window, while an antique dresser and full-length mirror were also in the room.

No sign of anyone. No flyer of a missing girl on a milk carton. And no luggage...

If Rose and Thad were traveling, where were their things? Hadn’t she brought a suitcase?

If she’d been running for her life, she wouldn’t have stopped to get it.

He checked the closet next but found it empty as well.

Either Rose was confused or lying or...her fiancé had survived and escaped and cleaned up any evidence he’d ever been in the cabin.

Another scenario surfaced though—Thad’s accomplice could have gotten rid of Thad’s body, then cleaned up to cover his own tracks.

She had received a threatening call though. He needed to check her phone to verify that a call had actually come through. Because...he didn’t believe her?

No, checking her phone records would be standard procedure. And if he could trace the number of the caller, it might lead to the person who wanted to kill her.

* * *

ROSE STARTLED AT the sound of the wind rustling leaves, and pivoted to look into the woods. A coyote’s howl unnerved her. She’d heard that coyotes had been attacking other animals, killing cats and dogs, and that they carried rabies.

Was the animal close by?

Questions swirled in her brain, making her head throb. Was Thad? Could he have survived that gunshot wound?

She backed against the wall and studied the floor again, wondering how anyone could have cleaned up that blood so quickly.

If Thad was alive, where was he?

Maybe the caller—Thad’s partner—had been near the cabin and Thad had phoned him after she’d left.

Footsteps pounded then, and Maddox appeared in the doorway. “The house is clear. No indication of Thad or anyone else.”

Rose bit down on her lip. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Rose, did you bring a suitcase here?”

Rose nodded. “Yes, and my wedding gown. I was taking a bath right before I heard Thad on the phone.”

His eyes darkened as he studied her. “You didn’t take any of your things with you?”

“No, I told you that I ran from the house. He knocked me down and we struggled. A lamp broke...”

She elbowed past him and surveyed the living room. No broken lamp. Everything was in its place.

She pointed to the small pine table. “Thad brought a picnic basket filled with goodies—cheese and crackers and fruit and wine. We were going to have a midnight picnic after my bath.”

“There’s no food or picnic basket here,” Maddox pointed out.

Frantic, she yanked open the drawer on the end table, then the small corner desk, searching for the flyer of the picture of the girl on the milk carton, but the drawers were empty. “He had that flyer. He was looking at it.”

She rubbed her temple, retracing her steps. “I had a glass of wine with my bath.” She rushed over to the kitchen and searched the cabinets. There were four wineglasses, all clean and dry as if they hadn’t been used.

She swung open the pantry door to check the garbage can, but it was empty.

“He brought a picnic. I swear he did. He must have thrown everything out.”

“I didn’t see a garbage bin outside, but I’ll look for one.” His footsteps pounded on the floor as he headed toward the door.

Confused, she dashed into the bedroom. The quilt was turned up on the bed, pillows placed strategically, the curtains closed—and the room was empty. Her suitcase and the wedding dress she’d hung over the doorway were gone.

Head spinning, she darted into the bathroom. The toiletry bag she’d set on the vanity wasn’t there now. The tub looked clean, no signs of the bubble bath she’d taken earlier.

Even her wet towel was gone.

She felt Maddox come up behind her, smelled his masculine scent. “I didn’t find any garbage outside.”

“I had my things in here, too,” she said, still in shock. “I took a bubble bath and my cosmetic bag was on the vanity, and my wedding dress was hanging over the door. I could see it from the tub.”

“You’re sure this is the right cabin?” Maddox asked.

“Did you see another one out here?” She whirled on him, hating the doubt in his voice. Did he think she was making this up? That she was delusional?

“I recognize the furniture, the quilt on the bed.” She searched for a way to convince him. “There’s an extra blanket in the bedroom closet, and...a Bible in the nightstand.” She raced to the nightstand, opened it and pulled the Bible out. “See. It’s here.”

He checked the closet and noted the blanket.

But she realized that proved nothing. Most places had extra blankets in the closet.

“Thad was shot,” she said emphatically, determined to assure Maddox—and herself—that she wasn’t going crazy. “I saw the blood, and he fell. There’s no way he could have cleaned everything out like this.”

“I’m going to grab my crime kit from the car,” Maddox said. “I’ll be right back.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist, shivering as images of Thad holding that gun taunted her.

She’d never seen such a cold look in anyone’s eyes, such a metamorphosis from charming and loving to...evil. She’d known then that he could kill her and not feel an ounce of remorse.

She just didn’t understand the reason.

* * *

MADDOX GRITTED HIS TEETH. If Rose was a complete stranger, he might question if she was lying about what had happened tonight.

There wasn’t a shred of visible evidence to support her story.

Yet the fear in her eyes, the conviction in her voice, the betrayal he heard in her pained tone—none of it was fake.

But what possible motive would anyone have to kill Rose?

That was a question he would probe later. For now, he had to process this place and see if he could find something to corroborate Rose’s story.

Maddox strode out to his car, opened the trunk and retrieved his crime kit. He photographed the exterior of the cabin and the driveway, focusing on the tire marks that indicated another car had been parked there at some point, then photographed the landing at the bottom of the steps where Rose indicated Thoreau had collapsed.

Rose stood on the porch watching him as he climbed the steps. He pulled on latex gloves, and kneeled to spray luminol on the floorboards of the porch. The scent of bleach swirled around him, a sign that someone had recently cleaned.

Which was suspicious in itself. If the place was deserted and no one had been here, why would it smell as if it had just been scrubbed?

At first, the luminol didn’t indicate anything, but he continued to spray, visually searching each inch.

He targeted the doorjamb and leaned closer to examine the corner. There—a small drop of blood. It had seeped into a splintered section. Whoever had scrubbed had missed it.

He glanced up at Rose. “There is a speck of blood.”

Her relieved sigh echoed in the air. “I told you he was bleeding.”

“It isn’t much,” Maddox said. “But I’m going to check the rest of the house and dust for prints. Also, if he was shot, there should be a bullet casing somewhere.”

“Thank you, Maddox.”

He shrugged. “I’m just doing my job, Rose.” Although protecting her seemed innate to him.

She stepped aside while he went to work. He dusted the doorways, doorknobs, table, kitchen counter and desk. Finally he found a partial on the pantry doorknob. Maybe Thad or his accomplice had left it when they’d grabbed the garbage.

He sprayed more luminol on the floor in the doorway and found a few tiny traces the bleach hadn’t erased. Someone had definitely been hurt here.

Which made it more suspicious that there were no fingerprints. Not even Rose’s, on the bathtub or the closet door where she claimed she’d hung her wedding gown.

Whoever had cleaned the place knew what they were doing. Maybe Thad was a professional hit man? Or his accomplice was?

But there was no bullet casing. No bullet hole, either. Odd. The bullet must not have been a through and through, meaning it might still be in Thoreau.

When he finished processing the house, he found Rose on the porch again, sitting on the porch swing, her expression tormented as she stared out at the sharp ridges beyond them. “I’ll need your prints for comparison purposes.”

Rose nodded, her expression so forlorn that he joined her on the swing.

“You don’t think I’m crazy or that I made this up?” Rose asked softly.

He laid his hand over hers, unable to keep himself from offering her a token gesture of comfort. “No. I think whoever cleaned up here was a pro. They knew what they were doing. But still, I found a little blood, and a partial print.”

Hope flickered in Rose’s expression but she rubbed at her temple again as if a headache pulsed behind her eyes. “It’s strange, but when I saw Thad’s blood, I...saw flashes of blood everywhere. And all you found was a tiny bit.”

He didn’t know what to say to that.

“We’ll get to the bottom of this, Rose.” He squeezed her hand, his gut tightening as she looked into his eyes.

He’d do everything in his power to fulfill his promise.

After all, it was his job to protect the citizens in Pistol Whip. And he’d be damned if Thad or this other man would get to Rose again.

* * *

IT WAS WELL into the night when Maddox drove Rose home. Fatigue pulled at her, but she was too nervous to think about sleep.

Maddox walked her to her door. “I’ll send these samples to the forensic lab tomorrow and see what we get back.” He hesitated. “Let me come in and search your house before I leave.”

Rose nodded, relieved not to be left alone yet. She unlocked the door, her breath catching when Maddox brushed against her. She’d always thought cowboys were sexy. So why had she fallen for Thad when he was the opposite?

A businessman. Or so he’d said. Then again, every word that had come out of his mouth might have been a lie.

She flipped the light switch in the foyer, and waited while Maddox combed through her small house, searching each room.

His wide jaw was set in stone as he descended the staircase.

“Did you find something?”

He shook his head, and she glanced down at her fingers. The ink smear where he’d taken her prints mocked her with the horror of the night.

“Rose?” Maddox approached, his expression guarded. “I need to have the lab check your phone records to see where that threatening call came from. Is that all right?”

“Of course.” Her chest ached as emotions pummeled her. “Do whatever you have to do.” She dug through a drawer for a minute, then retrieved a business card and handed it to him. “Here, this is Thad’s.”

Maddox scanned the card. “Thanks, I’ll check into it.”

“You think he really worked there or was that a lie, too?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll find out. I’m going to dust his car for prints, too. It’s possible Thoreau wasn’t his real name.”

He rubbed her arms with his hands. Hands that felt strong but tender. Hands that made her want to lean into him and never let go.

But that was crazy. She’d trusted Thad, and look where that had gotten her.

Maddox was only here to help her find the man—or men—who wanted her dead.

She needed his help as the sheriff, nothing more. And she couldn’t forget it.

Chapter Five

Maddox had considered calling the sheriff in Laramie, but without evidence of a body, he’d look like a fool.

Rose sank into the kitchen chair as if she was too exhausted to stand. “What do we do now?”

He joined Rose at the table, his hands splayed on top. “Technically there’s no crime to report. Well, except that you were attacked, and I’ll document that and your story. But there’s no body and the blood is minimal, so it’s not enough to warrant calling in any other law enforcement at this time.”

“But Thad Thoreau is either dead or missing.”

“I realize that,” Maddox said. “And I didn’t say I wouldn’t investigate. But I don’t plan to inform other authorities until I do some research myself.”

Rose fidgeted but looked relieved. “It was self-defense, Maddox. I swear it was.”

He might not believe a stranger, but he believed Rose.

Or was that his libido talking? He’d always been attracted to her, but his daddy had drilled into him not to chase a woman who was already attached to another man.

And Rose had been wearing that big diamond on her finger.

Her heart must have been broken at her fiancé’s betrayal.

“I’ll check hospitals, ERs, urgent-care facilities and the morgue in case the person Thoreau was talking to on the phone carried him for medical help.”

“You think he had an accomplice? That he cleaned up the blood to cover for Thad’s attack on me?”

“It’s possible.” Another thought occurred to Maddox. “I should search the land and woods surrounding the cabin in case he buried Thoreau there.”

Rose shuddered visibly. “I didn’t think of that.”

Maddox squeezed her hand again. Her fingers felt icy, a tremor running through her. “That’s my job, Rose. Why don’t you get some rest?”

Rose chewed her bottom lip. “I...I’m not sure I can sleep.”

Maddox sucked in a breath, forcing himself not to react physically to the way she folded her fingers into his palm and clung to him. She was suffering from shock and obviously scared to be alone.

Normal for a victim of a crime.

“I’ll stay here and make sure you’re safe.”

Her lips parted in surprise as she angled her face toward him. “I can’t ask you to do that, Sheriff.”

“Maddox,” he said, his voice gruff. “And you didn’t ask. I’m the law around here. I wouldn’t feel right leaving you unprotected, not until we find out what happened to your fiancé and find the person who made that threatening phone call.”

Rose’s gaze met his, shock still flaring in her eyes. “I still can’t wrap my head around the idea that Thad lied to me all along, that he...wanted me dead.”

“That’ll take time.” He slowly pulled his hand from hers. “By the way, do you have a photograph of Thoreau?”

Rose hesitated a moment, then reached inside her purse for her phone and accessed a selfie of her and the man. “Thad didn’t want formal pictures taken, but I managed to snap this one at dinner one night.”

Maddox scrutinized the man’s face. He looked to be in his midthirties, had an angular face, short brown hair, thick brows, a cleft in his chin and eyes that looked a muddy hazel.

“Will that help?” Rose asked.

“Yes, thanks. Now go to bed. I’m going to make some phone calls and see what I can find out.”

Rose pushed herself up from the table with a sigh. “Thank you, Maddox. I...appreciate all you’ve done tonight.”

He stood, tempted to pull her into his arms and comfort her again. But he needed to maintain his distance.

She had been involved in a crime, and he had to remain objective until he learned the truth about what happened earlier.

The cop voice in his head, the one that had been lied to by other suspects, warned him to tread carefully. Two years ago, an alleged victim who’d come running to him for help had actually turned out to be the mastermind of a criminal ring.

Actually he didn’t know that much about Rose herself. Only that she’d moved here a few months ago and opened an antiques shop.

It was far-fetched, but it was possible that she’d killed the man and buried him herself, then concocted this story about the attack.

* * *

ROSE CLIMBED THE STEPS to the bedroom, her emotions in a tailspin. Relief that Maddox was in her house calmed her nerves, but the moment she went into the bedroom and saw the music box Thad had given her the night he proposed, tears flooded her eyes.

The fact that he’d remembered her love of music boxes had moved her even more. It was the one special thing she and Ramona Worthington had bonded over. She’d thought that the gift was so romantic, that Thad really loved her, that they’d spend a lifetime together.

She’d had no idea he’d wooed her into trusting him so he could end her life.

She lifted the lid to the music box, once again mesmerized by the sound of the love song and the dove twirling on the top. Something about the antique music box stirred a distant memory, reminded her of a music box she’d seen before, maybe as a child.

But she couldn’t place what it looked like or the song it was playing.

An image of a woman’s hand teased at her memory, and a soft voice whispered to her that the music box had belonged to her grandmother.

But her mother had never mentioned a grandmother. In fact, when she’d asked about other relatives, her mother had clammed up.

Heart heavy, she stripped, pulled on a gown and brushed her teeth. But the sight of her ashen, tear-streaked face in the mirror reminded her of the horror of her near death.

She splashed cold water on her face, then fell into bed and drew the covers above her, clenching them as the nightmare of the evening played over and over in her head.

She had escaped Thad tonight.

But would he or the man on the phone come back and try to kill her?

* * *

MADDOX WAITED UNTIL Rose disappeared up the steps, then strode out to Thad’s sedan and searched the car. Nothing inside that looked suspicious. The vehicle was registered to Thad Thoreau.

He retrieved his kit from his car and dusted the interior for prints, then placed the prints in his kit to take to the lab the next morning.

Then he retrieved his computer. He set it up at Rose’s kitchen table, then accessed a list of local hospitals, ERs, urgent-care facilities and morgues. He sent them a picture of Thad for identification purposes.

A few phone calls later, and he’d found nothing. “Call me if this man turns up, or if you get a patient suffering from a gunshot wound.” He left his number, and reminded the nurse on the phone that the man he was looking for might be armed and dangerous, to alert security and not confront him.

Technically, doctors were required to report any gunshot wound, but sometimes things slipped between the cracks. Especially if the patient, or the person who brought the patient in, was armed and threatened the health care workers.

The fact that Thoreau hadn’t been admitted could mean that his accomplice had carried him somewhere off the grid for medical help.

Or that he was dead.

Another reason to search the property tomorrow.

He accessed the national police databases and ran a search on Thad Thoreau.

First of all, the man’s name didn’t pop up as having an arrest record. Neither did it appear that he’d served in the military.

In fact, when he plugged Thoreau’s name into the DMV database, he found three different Thad Thoreaus but none of them matched the picture Rose had shown him. One Thad Thoreau was ninety and in a nursing home, another was deceased and the third was a professor in Salt Lake City.

He checked each of their backgrounds to see if any one of them had a son named Thad, but hit a dead end.

Frustrated, he spent the next hour researching the company listed on Thad’s business card, but couldn’t find a company with that name. The company was bogus—part of Thad’s cover.

If Thoreau was a professional killer, he’d probably used an alias. He phoned Devon Littleman, the best IT analyst he knew at the lab, and emailed him Thoreau’s photograph. “We need to know his real name,” Maddox said after he’d explained the situation.

“This might take a while.”

“Let me know what you find. I’m dropping off his prints tomorrow.” Thoreau could have randomly pulled the identity from a source like a computer or a phone directory, or he could have chosen it from a gravestone or obituary notice.

Whatever his name, Thad Thoreau was not who he claimed to be.

So who was he?

And why had he come after Rose?

It had something to do with the girl on the milk carton...

“Can you put a trace on Rose Worthington’s phone in case the man who threatened her calls again?”

“I’m on it.”

“Devon, pull it up now. She received a threatening call tonight. I want to know where it came from.”

“Hang on.”

Maddox drummed his fingers on the table as he waited. Finally Devon came back.

“There was only one call made to her number tonight. Looks like it came from a burner phone. Sorry, but I can’t trace it.”

Damn. “Thanks. Call me if you find anything else.”

Maddox hung up. Curious, he plugged Rose’s name into the computer and ran a check on her. Guilt needled him for invading her privacy. But she needed his help, and he couldn’t uncover Thoreau’s motive for wanting her dead if he didn’t know more about her.

The wind picked up outside, rattling the windowpanes and whistling through the house. He glanced at the stairs to make sure Rose wasn’t coming back down, but didn’t see her or hear footsteps. Hopefully, she’d fallen asleep.

Maybe tomorrow she’d remember more details about her fiancé that would help his investigation.

Rose’s name appeared on the DMV database, the photograph taken two years before. She had no arrest record, had lived with parents named Ramona and Syd Worthington before moving to Pistol Whip. Ramona, now in her fifties, worked in a gardening center while Syd worked with a freight company.

He studied the picture of the couple, looking for similarities to Rose, but her features were softer, rounder, her eyes a deep amber instead of Ramona’s blue or Syd’s brown.

Rose said she and her parents were estranged. What had happened between them?

Not that it was pertinent to the case, but if he wanted to know the reason someone wanted to kill Rose, he had to learn everything he could about her.

And that included tracking down the girl on the milk carton.

How old was Rose now? He checked her birth date on the driver’s license photo. Twenty-five.

Which meant that the photograph of the missing child—hadn’t she said she was around four or five?—would have been posted about twenty years ago.

Determined to get to the bottom of the mystery, he accessed the database for missing and exploited children and searched for girls who’d disappeared around that time. Hundreds of pictures showed up, enough to make him sweat under the collar.

He entered Rose’s name to narrow down the search, and waited, but that yielded nothing.

If he knew the state where the girl disappeared from, it would help.

It was also possible that since the photo had been circulated, she’d been found alive and returned to her family, or she was...dead.

He compared Rose’s name with a list of children reported as deceased during that time frame. There were two other girls with the last name Worthington, but one was a teen found dead from an overdose, the other a runaway who’d eventually gone home on her own.

The search led to countless other girls named Rose, and it took him nearly an hour to sort through them and run a comparison.

Dammit, he needed better software to show age progression. Something he’d have to speak to the county about, although he doubted it would do much good. Pistol Whip was such a blip on the Wyoming map that the big cities rated the nicer, more sophisticated equipment.

His eyes were starting to blur from fatigue, so he decided to rest his head for a while. It was already 4:00 a.m.

Tomorrow he had to go back to the cabin and search for a grave.

Weary from the night’s events, he closed the laptop. He walked to the window and checked out the front, then to the rear and surveyed the wooded backyard.

Everything seemed quiet. Peaceful.

Rose was safe.

But as he stretched out on her sofa, he laid his gun on his chest just in case Thoreau or his partner returned to kill her in the night.

* * *

HANDS TIGHTENED AROUND Rose’s throat. She tried to scream, but she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t make a sound come out.

Terrified she was going to die, she struggled to pry the man’s hands from around her neck, but he was so strong she couldn’t budge his fingers, and his nails cut into her skin.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as her body began to convulse. Still she kicked and clawed...

Then the hands lifted from her throat, and the cold blunt edge of a gun barrel settled against her temple. “You can run, but you can’t hide, Rose. I’ll find you.”

She struggled to see, but darkness surrounded her. Then the red...so much red...blood everywhere. Splattering the walls and the floors...splattering her. Her knees. Her hands.

Her face...

A scream tore from her throat and she tried to move, but fear paralyzed her.

Then the sound of gunfire exploded into the room. Bullets pinging off the wall. A man’s voice. A woman’s cry for help.

She closed her eyes and tried to crawl toward her, but the world was fading away into gray...

“Rose?” Another hand gripped her arm, this time firm but gentle. “Rose, it’s me, Maddox. Wake up.”

She jerked her eyes open at the sound of that familiar voice, but she was trembling so badly that fear immobilized her. She could only look into his eyes and whisper his name.

His gaze connected with hers. He soothed her tearstained face, then pulled her into his arms.

She buried her head against him, hating to be weak, but terrified of what she’d seen in her nightmare. The room where she’d been—she didn’t know where it was, except there were antiques there and lace curtains, and music had been playing, a soft lyrical tune like the one in the music box Thad had given her.

Only she hadn’t been at the cabin...and it wasn’t Thad holding the gun to her head. She’d seen this man’s eyes.

They were black, the blackest of black, as if they were hollowed empty holes in his face.

As if they were the devil’s eyes.

Was the man a figment of her imagination, the face she’d conjured up to go with the man who’d threatened her on the phone?

And all that blood...it was almost as if she’d been there. Seen someone die.

Someone she’d loved...

But that was impossible. If she’d witnessed a death or murder, she would remember it, wouldn’t she?

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