Hotshot P.i.

Hotshot P.i. B.J. Daniels The prime suspect was a sleepwalkerFor the second time in her life Clancy Jones had awakened at a murder scene–this time with the murder weapon in her hand. Without recall, she insisted she was innocent, framed and the real killer after her. To the untrained eye, she looked mighty guilty. But to private investigator Jake Hawkins, she still looked damn good.Desire for Clancy had always burned inside Jake; so had anger. Ten years ago Clancy sleepwalked onto another crime scene and her testimony had put Jake's father behind bars. Now Jake didn't know if he wanted to prove his seductive client's innocence–or guilt.LAWMAN–There's nothing sexier than the strong arms of the law! For the second time in her life Clancy Jones had awakened at a murder scene—this time with the murder weapon in her hand. To the untrained eye, she looked mighty guilty. But to private investigator Jake Hawkins, she still looked good. Desire for Clancy had always burned inside Jake; so had anger. Ten years ago Clancy sleepwalked onto another crime scene and her testimony had put Jake's father behind bars. Now Jake didn't know if he wanted to prove his seductive client's innocence—or guilt. Previously published. Hotshot P. I. B. J. Daniels www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) “Do you realize the position you’ve put me in?” “It’s not bad enough that you jump bail and I cover for you. Now I’m withholding evidence from the police.” The fact that Clancy hadn’t asked him to protect her, that he’d done it all on his own, only made it worse. “I just compromised myself and my career, put my P.I. license on the line for you,” Jake told her, laying it on a little strong. “Let’s not forget why you’re really here.” She glared at him. “To get the goods on me, isn’t that what you said?” She looked ashen. Shaken. Scared. Not at all like a criminal. Before he could consider how stupid it was, he pulled Clancy into his arms. She resisted at first, but slowly he felt her soften in his embrace. He tried to focus on the case, not on the wonderfully feminine feel of the woman he held. Jake growled at himself in disgust. He wanted to kiss her, protect and shelter her. But he couldn’t let anything get in the way of the truth. Not even Clancy. Dear Reader (#ulink_2ddfe48b-a9f8-59e6-b628-69f09433e14a), They’re rugged, they’re strong and they’re wanted! Whether sheriff, undercover cop or officer of the court, these men are trained to keep the peace, to uphold the law. But what happens when they meet the one woman who gets to know the man behind the badge? Twelve of these men are on the loose…and only Harlequin Intrigue brings them to you—one per month, in the LAWMAN series. This month, meet hotshot P.I. Jake Hawkins as he takes on a most challenging client—a sleepwalker! Author B.J. Daniels knows firsthand about sleepwalking—she’s gone on those nocturnal excursions since childhood. And B.J.’s set this story in her home state of Montana, at one of her favorite lakes. Readers may contact B.J. at P.O. Box 183, Bozeman, Montana 59771. Be sure you don’t miss a single LAWMAN…because there’s nothing sexier than the strong arms of the law! Regards, Debra Matteucci Senior Editor & Editorial Coordinator Harlequin Books 300 East 42nd Street New York, NY 10017 To the man I share my life, my love and my dreams with: Cast of Characters Clancy Jones—She’d sleepwalked into murder and now Jake Hawkins was in more than her dreams. Had he been hired to save her? Or see that she went to prison? Jake Hawkins—The private investigator had come home for only one reason—to settle an old score. Not to fall in love with Clancy again. Dex Westfall—He followed Clancy to Hawk Island, vowing to get what he deserved. But did he deserve to die? Warren Hawkins—Was he doing time for a crime he didn’t commit? Kiki Talbott Conner—She’d stoop to anything—even blackmail—to clear the Talbott name. But was that all she was after? Tadd Farnsworth—Did the lawyer take the case only for the money and the publicity? Or did he have his own interests at heart? Lola Strickland—The woman had left a trail of men—including a mystery lover—who might have wanted her dead. Johnny Branson—The retired sheriff warned Jake and Clancy not to dig in the old murder case. Helen Branson—Because of her health, she didn’t get out much. But if anyone knew what was going on on Hawk Island, she did. Frank Ames—He’d gone from dock boy to resort owner almost overnight. Was it just good luck? Or bad luck for someone else? Contents Cover (#u3c4335ba-c9d4-5385-b96d-f6db6b2e4b7a) Back Cover Text (#uc24ad38c-e80a-5360-bca1-c8289824bf0f) Title Page (#u62b5f014-2629-50ea-aac8-fc70cea1795a) Introduction (#u2eab6f98-3e34-52b5-8171-bb83f6f8c057) Dear Reader (#ufa09d2e0-72e3-5a9b-b0e4-e0285aeccfed) Dedication (#u902933ea-ba43-5758-9a75-0c486500627b) Cast of Characters (#ufcf5b743-fa98-59f7-b1fd-d216d7461465) Prologue (#ue95d8329-4423-5f96-9ed4-9126e94ebf6f) Chapter One (#u18e9a158-d041-5188-a1dd-7b20f98368fb) Chapter Two (#uc8f65861-8860-5d35-a576-b0bb27a9f9f3) Chapter Three (#u838fe69b-9930-5fb4-83fa-055071283c2e) Chapter Four (#uadbfb90f-c110-54e7-8298-43cb81d08932) Chapter Five (#u2de13d39-9646-5af0-93bd-8dfae8dd6964) Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo) Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo) Extract (#litres_trial_promo) Copyright (#litres_trial_promo) Prologue Clancy didn’t know what had awakened her. She blinked, confused by the moonlight streaming across the third-story balcony, even more confused to find herself standing at the narrow log railing, staring down at Flathead Lake. Waves lapped at the dock in the small bay below the island lodge. Clancy’s heart rate accelerated along with her growing apprehension as she realized what was so terribly wrong. The view. She shouldn’t have been able to see the bay from this angle on her bedroom balcony. Behind her, the door to her family’s lake lodge stood open. Past it, furniture huddled under sheets like ghosts. A corner of one sheet flapped softly in the night breeze. Clancy stared at the room, frantically trying to orient herself in a place haunted with childhood memories. The garret on the third floor—a room that hadn’t been used in years for anything more than storage. The early June breeze stirred the sheets and ran like a chill across her skin. She looked down, surprised to find she wore nothing but her nightgown. Her feet were bare—except for the sand. It was happening all over again! Fear raced ahead of her thoughts. Where had she been? What had she done this time? With growing panic, Clancy became aware of something heavy clutched in the fingers of her left hand. A bronze sculpture of a cowboy, one of the first she’d ever made. It had been on the mantel downstairs. She shuddered as she realized how she and it must have gotten up here. She hadn’t sleepwalked in years. But the terror of waking up not knowing where she was or where she’d been wasn’t something she’d forgotten from her childhood. She remembered with horror the last time she’d walked in her sleep. The night of the fire. Clancy turned, wanting only to get back to her bedroom on the other side of the lodge, and realized she wasn’t alone. Her heart slammed against her ribs. She fought back a scream as the moonlight spilled across the garret. Someone was on the couch. Sprawled, legs out at an odd angle. She stepped into the room, flipping the light switch. And stopped. The bronze slipped from her fingers, hitting the hardwood floor with a thud, as she recognized the boots. Bright red cowboy boots. With wet sand on them. Just like her feet. Her heart thumped like a drum, filling the silence of the room. Dex Westfall lay on the couch. His dark hair, normally coiffed to perfection, was now matted to the side of his head. Blood, once the color of his boots, stained the sheet covering the couch. His eyes stared, vacant, empty. Clancy stumbled back, suddenly aware of the stickiness on her fingers. She stared at her left hand, her terror accelerating. How had she gotten blood on her? Her gaze leaped to the cowboy sculpture lying on the floor. Her heart rate rocketed, her pulse now a deafening roar in her ears. She didn’t need anyone to tell her that the dark stain on the bronze was Dex’s blood or that her former boyfriend was dead. It was happening again. Only this time, her worst nightmare had come true. She’d killed someone in her sleep. Chapter One Ignoring the overdressed stranger on the dock, Jake Hawkins loaded the cooler full of groceries into his twenty-five-foot fishing boat, then reached for his tackle box and new rod and reel resting at the woman’s high-heeled feet. He noted with no small amount of satisfaction that she’d finally gotten the message. Beneath the huge hat, she pursed her thin, lipstick-red lips and stripped off the large designer sunglasses to give him the full effect of her icy baby blues. The look she gave him shot off more sparks than all the diamonds weighing down her body. He smiled to himself. From the moment he’d found her waiting for him on the dock beside his boat, there hadn’t been anything about Mrs. Randolph L. Conners that he liked—from her wealthy smugness to her condescending certainty that he was about to go to work for her. And he especially didn’t appreciate being bothered on his day off. It was Monday and he was going fishing for a few days. And nothing was going to keep that from happening. “Like I said, I don’t baby-sit heiresses,” he repeated as he turned away from the Galveston skyline to take a whiff of the gulf breeze. “Especially heiresses who have just murdered their boyfriends.” The gulf shimmered in the morning sun, beckoning him. He couldn’t wait to hear his twin 150-horsepower engines rumbling as he crossed the water, the wind in his face. “I don’t think you understand, Mr. Hawkins,” Mrs. Conners said, enunciating each word carefully. “I’m not hiring you to baby-sit. I’m hiring you to see that my niece is exonerated.” Jake pushed back his Houston Astros cap and laughed. She wasn’t hiring him at all. He didn’t have the time or the inclination. Not even the money could entice him right now. Not when he had a well-deserved fishing trip planned. “You need a good lawyer, not a private investigator. But I can give you a few names—” “I already have the best lawyers money can buy,” she said, sounding pained that she had to explain everything to him. “I need someone with your…talents.” He prided himself on what he called his hunches, and right now one was riding up his spine like a centipede wearing spiked heels. While his hunches were seldom wrong, he hoped this one was; he had a bad feeling that somehow he was going to end up working for this woman. “My talents?” he repeated, also hoping he was wrong about where she was headed. He shook his head as if he didn’t get it. Exasperation gave her a pinched look that reminded him of one of those mean little hairless dogs. “I want you to prove my niece’s innocence, Mr. Hawkins. Whatever you have to do. Whatever it costs. My niece will not be convicted of murder.” Jake jumped from the boat to the dock with a thud. “If you think you can hire me to tamper with evidence…” He found himself looming over her, his blood pressure up and running. She tilted her head back ever so slightly until he could see her eyes shaded beneath the hat. If she felt even a little bit intimidated, it didn’t show; her gaze glittered with brittle-hard certainty. “You misunderstood my intentions.” “Like hell I misunderstood,” Jake said, locking his gaze on the woman. “If your niece is guilty, then she deserves to do time. And from what you’ve told me—” “You are wrong, Mr. Hawkins,” she said, her voice as hard and gritty as gravel. “My niece is a Talbott. A Talbott does not go to prison.” Talbott? He felt a jolt of recognition shoot through him. He squinted at her, telling himself Talbott was a fairly common name. Not that it mattered, he reminded himself; he wasn’t going to take this case. But still he couldn’t shake off the rotten feeling tap-dancing at the back of his head. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Mr. Hawkins?” He understood perfectly. The niece was an embarrassment and too good for prison. He couldn’t believe the gall of this woman. And now she wanted someone to go in and clean up the mess. At any price. Well, she’d picked the wrong man. “Like I said, I can’t help you. It’s my day off and I’m going fishing.” Jake flung his duffel bag into the boat, hoping Mrs. Randolph L. Conners would take the hint. But he wasn’t averse to throwing her into the gulf if he had to. She squared her shoulders, straightening her expensive suit. “I’m sure after you’ve given it some thought you’ll change your mind, Mr. Hawkins.” He pointed to the shore. “Don’t count on it.” She smiled. “We’ll see.” Fighting to control his temper, Jake watched her walk away. He hated having someone raise his blood pressure, especially this early in the morning and on his day off. As he went to untie the boat, he noticed the envelope on the bow, underneath the cellular phone the woman had surreptitiously left to hold it down in the light sea breeze. The envelope was creamy white; the address engraved. He slipped it from under the phone, not surprised to find his name hand-printed on the clean white surface or the paper smelling of her expensive perfume. He figured the envelope would be full of old family money, but it felt a little too light. Maybe she’d written him a check. Jake ripped open the envelope, planning to do the same with the check. But it didn’t contain a voucher of any kind. Nor were there any crisp large bills inside. Instead, there was a single sheet of paper, folded neatly. On the sheet were printed the words: Deer Lodge. September 30. 9:00 a.m. At the bottom was her neatly signed signature: Kiki Talbott Conners. Kiki Talbott. He should have known. With a curse, Jake crumpled the paper and threw it into the water, feeling his plans crumple with it. The phone began to ring. He looked out across the gulf, suddenly reminded of a photograph that used to sit on the mantel of his family’s Flathead Lake lodge in Montana. Memories flooded him. Bittersweet memories that he’d spent ten years trying to forget. He picked up the phone. “I’ve left you a ticket and triple your normal first week’s salary at the airport,” Kiki informed him in her nononsense tone. “Your flight leaves in less than two hours. You’ll have to hurry.” “And where exactly is it you think I’m going?” Jake asked, anger making his words as hard as stones. “Montana. You can buy anything you need when you get there,” she continued. “Of course, I will reimburse you for all expenses.” “Montana?”Jake swore and pushed back his baseball cap, dread making his body ache as if he had a bad case of flu. “I think you’d better tell me just which niece of yours we’re talking about.” He held his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sea gulls squawked overhead; the gulf breeze tickled the sandy blond hair curling at his neck. “Clancy Jones. Her mother was a Talbott. Her father was—” Jake let out an oath. “I know who her parents were, for hell’s sake. And I know who she is! You don’t seriously believe that I’m going to help her?” Kiki’s tone was coldly calm. “Mr. Hawkins, you’re very good at what you do. One of the best. That’s why I’ve hired you. That’s why you’re going to do whatever you have to do to get my niece exonerated—in spite of your…former connections with her.” Jake walked over to his duffel bag and, cradling the phone against his shoulder, dug through his clothing. “Lady, the only reason you’re hiring me is because you have something to hold over my head, and you damn well know it.” Jake thought he heard a hint of emotion in her voice when she finally spoke. “Please understand, I will do whatever I have to do to protect my niece. Including helping you on September 30. Or hurting you. And believe me, I’m in a very good position to do either.” Jake carefully lifted the.38 nestled in its worn shoulder holster from the duffel bag. He wondered if Kiki had any idea what kind of man she’d just hired. Or how big a mistake she’d just made. “How do I know you’ll hold up your end of the bargain?” he asked, glad she wasn’t still on the dock, afraid of what he might have done. She let out a long, impatient sigh. “I’m a Talbott, Mr. Hawkins. Please don’t confuse us with the Joneses. Our word is our bond.” “Right.” “One more thing, Mr. Hawkins,” she said, dropping her voice. “Because of your less-than-amiable association with my niece, I might offer you a tip as to how to best handle her—” “Look, Kiki,” Jake said as he snugged the.38 to his ribs. “I have a little tip for you. You can force me to take this job, although it’s not the smartest thing you ever did. And you can force me to take your money and waste my time trying to find evidence that your niece isn’t guilty of murder. But you can’t tell me how to do my job.” “Now, Mr. Hawkins—” “The truth is, Kiki, you can only buy so much with your kind of blackmail. And you’ve already bought more than you can handle.” Chapter Two Awakened from a troubled sleep, Jake rolled over, forgetting where he was, and banged his head on the balcony railing. That rude awakening and the once-familiar view reminded him exactly where he was. As soon as he’d landed, he’d rented a boat to get to Hawk Island and his family’s lodge. And he was there because of Clancy Jones. Having no intentions of staying long, he’d just rolled his sleeping bag out on the balcony, wishing he was on the deck of his boat. The truth was he couldn’t stand the thought of sleeping inside the lodge. It felt too musty and confining, brought back too many memories. He’d gone to sleep cursing Clancy, while glaring through the railing at the only other dwelling on this side of the rugged island—an almost identical log lodge nestled in the pines across the small bay. A single light had shone in one of the rooms on the second floor of Clancy’s lodge until the wee hours. He’d seen an occasional shadow and wondered if she was alone. Angry that he couldn’t sleep, either, he’d speculated on what she might be doing still up. Working in her studio? Or trying to sleep and not think, like him? At one point, he’d considered going over to see her, getting it over with. But it was late, and he told himself waiting until morning was the best plan. He’d finally dozed off, only to be dragged from sleep by a loud noise, which did little to improve his disposition. As he stared across the moonlit bay, trying to figure out what had awakened him, a movement jarred his attention into focus. Something was thrashing around in the water off the end of Clancy’s dock. He saw what appeared to be a head surface, heard the choked cry before it disappeared again. Clancy? Shedding his bedroll, Jake leaped from the end of the balcony, dropped onto the beach and took off at a run. He saw the head materialize again, dark against the silvery surface of the water, heard the cry for help and pushed his legs harder. All the time his mind raced ahead of him; the swimmer couldn’t be Clancy. She swam like a trout and was much too smart to be swimming—drowning—at this hour of the night. He sprinted down the weathered dock to the end as the person emerged once again—yards beyond his reach. Having no time to consider the consequences, he dove in. The sudden shock of the cold water brought him wide awake; he surfaced, gasping for breath. Just ahead of him he could see the swimmer start to disappear under the dark water again. He swam hard and reached out to grab the only thing he could. Hair. It was long enough he could bury his hand in it. But to his surprise, the swimmer pulled him under with a force that almost made him lose his grip. Immediately he realized his mistake. The silly fool was struggling, fighting him, and he remembered why he’d never considered the lifeguarding profession. Too dangerous. At least in the private eye business you knew who you were dealing with: murderers, crooks, cheaters and liars. Not some novice in over her head in deep water, panicked to senseless desperation and determined to take you down with her. Jake got a tighter hold on the hair and a grip on one flaying arm, and with all his strength kicked toward the moonlit surface. At first nothing happened, then they both rose in a rush, the swimmer choking and coughing as they surfaced. Jake used a no-nonsense half nelson to drag the person to the dock and, none too gently, hoisted the obviously feminine body onto the worn boards. He felt a moment of relief. This woman, whoever she was, wasn’t Clancy. Not with that body. Her wet clothing molded to her curves—dangerously enticing, fully developed curves. She leaned over the edge of the dock, fighting for breath, her dripping shoulder-length hair in her face. Slowly, she raised her gaze, sending a shock wave through him. Clancy? Even under the wet mop of blond hair, even in the shimmering silver of the moonlight, there was no doubt about that face. Her hair was longer. Not quite as blond. But that face. That cute little nose. That slightly puckered, almost pouty mouth. That wide-eyed, curious deep brown gaze. If anything, she was more beautiful than he remembered. And certainly more…filled out. And in all the right places. That adorable seventeen-year-old tomboy he’d known was now one hell of a good-looking woman. But he wasn’t sure what shocked him the most. Seeing the change in her after all these years. Or realizing she was the swimmer he’d had to rescue. What had happened to the Clancy he used to know, the one who was much too smart to swim alone in the middle of the night? “What the hell were you doing swimming at this hour?” he demanded, anger following his relief that Clancy was all right. He needed her alive, he told himself. His relief had nothing to do with any old feelings from their past, he assured himself, ignoring the flashes of memories of the two of them as kids. They’d been so close—best pals. More than that. Kindred spirits. The truth was, he’d thought he was in love with her. “Swimming?” she said, choking. “You think I was swimming?” She coughed, then leaned back, her gaze settling on him with suspicion. “Someone tried to drown me.” “Wait a minute,” he said, holding up his hands. “I was the one who fished you out of the drink.” He felt something cold sprint up his spine as he looked into her eyes. “Someone grabbed me and—” Clancy glanced around in obvious confusion, her eyes wild with fear. “You dragged me out?” “Yeah.” Jake studied her for a moment, wondering how long it would take her to acknowledge that she knew him. “About this someone who tried to drown you.you might notice there seems to be just the two of us on this whole side of the island.” He glanced toward the still water, then at the empty shoreline, then at her again. “Thank you for helping me,” she whispered, still looking disoriented. And more than a little scared. He’d known seeing her again was going to trigger a lot of old emotions, emotions he couldn’t afford. He quickly reminded himself that Clancy hadn’t only perjured herself on the witness stand and helped send his father to prison ten years ago, now she was facing a murder rap of her own. Forget that cute kid he used to build sand castles with on the beach and catch trout with off the end of this dock. Someone had bludgeoned Dex Westfall to death, and from what Kiki had told him, the police thought that someone was Dex’s girlfriend, Clancy Jones. “So what were you doing out here on the dock at this time of the night?” he asked, unable to keep the reproach out of his voice. He was wet and tired and didn’t appreciate being awakened in the middle of the night. Especially by this woman. “I heard someone…calling me.” She sounded dubious. Welcome to the club. “Someone calling you?” He glanced at the still water beyond the dock. The pines etched a dark, ragged line against the night sky. Then he looked over at her again. “Someone called you, so you walked down to see what they wanted in the middle of the night?” Perfectly logical. He saw her look toward her lodge, her eyes widening. He followed her gaze, surprised to see that not a single lamp glowed in any of the windows. She hadn’t turned on a light before coming down to the dock? “I suppose you didn’t recognize the voice calling you or see the person who pulled you into the water?” he asked, not even trying to hide his disbelief. He could read most people as easily as he could the cover of a tabloid from across the floor of a good-sized minimart. Clancy Jones was lying through her teeth, but for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine why. He reminded himself that lying seemed to come easy for her. “Whether you believe it or not, someone tried to drown me,” she said, her voice breaking. She didn’t sound any more convinced than he was, but she was scared. He could see it in her movements as she got to her feet, nervously tugging her wet clothing away from her body. For the first time, he realized she wasn’t dressed for a night swim. She wore a T-shirt and a pair of leggings. Both were wet and molded to her body. An amazing body, Jake grudgingly admitted. Her feet were bare, and she still wore her watch and a single gold bracelet. Both looked expensive. He ignored the voice of reason that questioned why she would have gone swimming wearing an expensive watch, why Jake had had to pull so hard to bring her to the surface. The questions wedged themselves in the back of his brain, a reluctant sliver of doubt. “Right,” Jake said. “And where is that someone now?” When he raised his gaze to her face, he saw that she was staring at him again. Squinting, actually, as if the moonlight was too bright. “Who are you, anyway, and what are you doing here?” she demanded. He tried not to let it hurt his feelings. Why should she recognize him or even remember him? She’d only spent the first seventeen years of her life living right next door to him, spending most every waking moment with him from the time she could walk. And it wasn’t as if he wanted to believe he’d made an impression on her just because she had on him. True, there’d been that kiss, the first for both of them, on this very dock, and she’d said she loved him, but hey”Jake Hawkins,” he said, surprised at the hurt and anger he heard in his tone. And the bitterness. “Not that there’s any reason you should remember me. But perhaps you haven’t forgotten my father. Surely you recall that your testimony sent him to prison ten years ago.” “Jake.” It came out a whisper. She seemed to wobble a little as she squinted harder at him. “It’s been so long…you sound so different…and—” He rolled his eyes. “Forget it.” For a moment, he just glared at her, mad, irritable and just plain out of sorts. He shifted his gaze to the lake. Lights flickered on the mainland. The air smelled of fish and pines. He should have been at sea, drifting with the night clouds, catching stripers and sailfish. He should have been at peace, breathing salt air, not standing on a dock in the wee hours of the morning with a woman who’d forced him to remember things he’d only wanted to forget. A woman, who unlike him, seemed to have put at least some of that past behind her. “Why now?” she asked quietly. “After all this time?” Fueled on a mixture of hurt and anger, he answered, “Your Aunt Kiki sent me to save your butt.” “What?” The surprise on Clancy’s face was worth the flight to Montana. It was almost worth missing his fishing trip. “You met my Aunt Kiki?” “The Wicked Witch of the East herself.” He’d never completely believed the stories Clancy had told after one of her required trips back East each spring to visit her rich aunt. He did now. “She’s everything you said she was. And then some.” “I don’t understand,” Clancy said, frowning. “Why would Aunt Kiki send you?” “Probably because I’m a private investigator and your aunt thinks her money and I can dig up evidence that will keep you out of prison.” Even as he said it, he realized it didn’t make that much sense to him, either. He had a hunch, one he was holding off like a bad cold. He told himself not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Kiki had provided him with the perfect opportunity. Why question it? Clancy met his gaze; tears glistened in her eyes. “I see.” He realized she did see at least part of it: one of the only reasons he was here was because Aunt Kiki had procured his services. He thought it would give him more satisfaction than it did to hurt her. What had she expected? That he’d come back and forget what she’d done, forgive her? Not likely. “It’s unfortunate that you’ve wasted your time,” she said, her words so faint, he almost missed them. Wasted his time? What was she saying, that she killed Dex Westfall, that she was guilty? She straightened, her glance shifting from her bare feet to his face. “The last thing I need right now is…you helping me.” He stared at her. “It’s not like you have a lot of choice in the matter. I doubt there’s a line of private investigators knocking down your door to take this case.” She let out a small laugh; her hand fluttered for a moment in the air between them. “Jake, we both know you’re not here to save me. Admit it, you’d love nothing better than to see me behind bars.” He started to admit it, but she didn’t give him the chance. “What was my aunt thinking?” With a dismissive shake of her head, she turned and headed down the dock toward shore. “Consider yourself fired.” “Wait a minute!” he called after her. “You can’t get rid of me just like that.” She didn’t even turn around. Jake stood on the dock, shaking his head in disbelief as he watched her stride toward her lodge. Fired? He’d never been fired in his life. Especially by some woman who didn’t have the good sense not to go swimming in the middle of the night. A woman who had the audacity to make up a story about an attacker calling her down to the dock to drown her—Jake glared at Clancy’s ramrod back as she retreated up the beach. Once a liar, always a liar, he thought. “Fine,” he called after her. “Fire me. Say hello to my father when you get to prison.” Her lodge door slammed, leaving him standing alone in the moonlight. He cursed and started toward his own lodge. Matching her angry strides, he stomped down the beach but quickly slowed to a limp. The bottoms of his feet hurt like the devil from racing across sand, rocks and rough wood to save a woman who didn’t even recognize him. He cursed himself for not only his unappreciated heroics, but also for that moment of weakness he’d had when he first saw Clancy again. For just that instant, he’d actually cared. How could he have forgotten, if for even a moment, the part she’d played in helping send his father to prison? He assured himself he wouldn’t forget again. * * * CLANCY FELL BACK AGAINST the door she’d just slammed and tried to stop shaking. She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to fall apart; she’d already cried too many tears and it had accomplished nothing. But just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse—Jake appeared. She hugged herself to hold down the shudders that welled up inside her. Confusion clouded her thoughts. Someone had called her down to the dock and tried to drown her. Or had they? She closed her eyes, searching through the darkness of her memory, fighting desperately to remember. Could it have been just a bad dream? But it had seemed so real. The hand coming out of the water, grabbing her ankle, pulling her into the water. Once she hit the water, she’d been wide awake. But had there really been someone else in the water trying to drag her under? Or had it been Jake fighting to bring her to the surface? It had happened so fast. And yet she remembered the voice. It had been familiar. Jake’s voice? Her eyes flew open at the thought. No, it hadn’t been Jake’s. His voice had a hint of a southern drawl. Jake. A rush of emotions assailed her. Memories, as sweet as the warm scent of summer. Regrets that made her heart ache. She’d never expected to ever see him again. Never expected to have these old feelings come back with such force. Then to find him on her dock tonight. And now of all times. She moved to the table to retrieve her glasses, anxious to be able to see clearly again, wishing she’d had them on earlier. Or at least had her contacts in. All she’d gotten was a blurred impression of Jake. Medium height and muscular. She smiled, remembering the boy she’d grown up with, the boy she’d fallen so desperately in love with. She thought about the betrayed, angry look he’d given her that day at the courthouse ten years ago. Tonight, she’d heard that same anger and bitterness in his voice. He still blamed her for his father going to prison. And now he’d come to Montana to help her? She couldn’t possibly let herself believe that. But Jake had saved her life tonight, hadn’t he? Clancy shivered, remembering the dark water and the hands pulling her under. Or had they been Jake’s hands trying to pull her toward the surface? If there had been an attacker, where had he gone so quickly? She shivered, hugging herself tighter. Right now she needed a hot bath and dry clothing. She didn’t want to think about the fact that she’d walked in her sleep again; she particularly didn’t want to think what could have happened if Jake hadn’t been there. She hurried upstairs, anxious to get out of her wet, cold clothing. But as she disrobed and stepped into the hot shower, exhaustion pulled at her, making her thoughts as clouded as the steam that rose around her. She yearned to be warm and dry. To wrap herself in one of her mother’s old quilts. To curl up in front of the fire-place. To forget everything. And sleep. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the shower wall. * * * JAKE QUICKLY SHOWERED and changed into warm, dry clothing, hoping it would soothe his anger and frustration. It had done neither by the time he dialed the private number Kiki had left for him at the Kalispell, Montana, airport along with another cellular phone. She’d evidently anticipated that he’d chuck the first one into the gulf, which he had. It bothered him that Kiki thought she knew him so well. Kiki Talbott Conners answered on the fifth ring. With more than a little satisfaction, he realized he’d awakened her from a sound sleep. “What time is it?” she groaned. Way past his bedtime, he knew that. His eyes felt as if they had sand in them. “A quarter after three.” “In the morning?” “That could explain why it’s still dark out.” He could just imagine her in a huge satin bed at the Bigfork condo she’d rented, surrounded by plump pillows and pampered poodles. “Your niece and I just got reacquainted.” “At three in the morning?” Kiki demanded, grogginess turning quickly to surliness. He walked to the window. “It’s a long story.” It looked as though all the lights in Clancy’s lodge were on. What was she doing still up, he wondered. And why all the lights? What was she afraid of? Surely she wasn’t buying into her own lies about a mysterious killer who came out of the water like a shark from Jaws. “Let me cut to the chase. Your niece doesn’t want me on this case.” “That surprises you?” Kiki asked, adding an audible “humph.” “Perhaps she thinks you harbor a grudge against her.” Kiki’s words snapped his attention back like a short rubber band. “Of course I have a grudge against her. And for a damned good reason.” He raked his fingers through his hair, remembering what Clancy had said on the dock, What could my aunt have been thinking? Exactly what Jake wanted to know. “Which brings me to the reason I called. Knowing that, why in the hell did you want me up here?” A faint tinkling sound broke the silence. She was pouring herself a drink. He felt as if he was going to need one, too. Kiki had enough money to buy the best private investigator in the galaxy. And if she wanted evidence tampered with, she could have bought that, too. For a price. But not from Jake Hawkins. So why hire a man who had every reason not to help her niece? “The reason I hired you is the same reason you’re not going to quit,” she said simply. He wanted to tell her just how wrong she was but that damned hunch of his was doing the lambada across the back of his neck to a little ditty called “Here Comes Heartache.” He heard her take a sip of her drink, taking her time. “Come on, Jake,” she said impatiently. “You know the reason.” “Blackmail.” He had a bad feeling that Kiki knew all the blackmail in the world couldn’t make him do something he didn’t want to do. He had his own personal reason for being here, and his hunch machine told him Kiki knew that, had known it all along. So what the hell had she hired him for? Kiki sighed deeply. “Jake, we both know why you’re in Montana, and it has nothing to do with blackmail.” He couldn’t believe he was playing this game with her. “Why don’t you spell it out for me, Kiki.” He held his breath, afraid she was about to validate the strongest hunch he’d ever had. “You’re in Montana because you think Clancy’s the key to proving your father’s innocence.” Bingo. Jake squeezed the phone and closed his eyes. Clancy was the key. Had always been the key. She’d lied on the witness stand to protect her own. father and let Jake’s go to prison. And now Jake had Clancy where he wanted her. He’d taken this case for one reason only: to get the truth. And as certain as the coming sunrise, he’d do whatever he had to do to get it out of her. He stared across the bay at Clancy’s. “My motives for being here don’t worry you?” he asked Kiki incredulously. “No,” she answered in that tone he’d come to despise. “I’ve seen how deep your loyalty runs. Unlike your mother. She could never forgive your father for disgracing her. She moved the two of you to Texas. She never visited him in prison. She forgot Warren Hawkins as if he’d never existed.” Kiki sounded so damned sure of herself. “You, on the other hand, can’t let go of the past. You believe in your father’s innocence and would do anything to prove it. The same way you can’t let Clancy go to prison for a murder she didn’t commit.” “I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” he said, moving away from the window. Kiki thought he was a crusader for injustice? He wanted to laugh. Didn’t she realize it was Clancy who’d done him the injustice? The woman was a liar; she’d proven that tonight. How could Kiki be so convinced Clancy hadn’t killed this Dex Westfall guy? Blind loyalty? He’d once felt that for Clancy, and look what she’d done to him and his family. No, he suspected with Kiki it was simply a matter of saving the Talbott name. “I’m quite sure of you,” Kiki said, her tone downright haughty. He wanted to tell her what a fool she was. After all these years, she’d just offered him the perfect opportunity to get what he wanted. The truth. And revenge at the same time. “What makes you think you know me so well?” Kiki let out a long sigh. “I heard about how wonderful you were for years, Jake Hawkins. Did you forget that for a long time, my niece foolishly thought she was in love with you?” Kiki hung up before he could respond. Not that he had a response for that one, anyway. * * * CLANCY’S EYES POPPED OPEN at the sound of the phone ringing and realized she’d dozed off standing in the shower! Panic came in hot pursuit of the realization. What if she’d fallen into one of her deep sleeps and sleepwalked again—this time totally naked? Whatever it took, she had to stay awake. She cranked the shower handle and let out a shriek as the cold water made her skin ache. But just as she was being revived, the phone began to ring. She quickly turned off the water and reached for a towel. Dripping, she hurried to the phone and picked up the receiver. “Hello.” She could hear breathing at the other end of the line. “Hello?” There was no answer. Just what sounded like soft, labored breathing. “What do you want?” she demanded. No answer. Clancy slammed down the phone. A prank call. Someone who’d read about her in the paper. She’d get her number changed. Maybe even get an unlisted number. She sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly too tired to move. The soft warmth beneath her beckoned her to crawl in, to cover her head and escape for a few hours in sleep. She stood and headed back to the shower, not about to make the same mistake she’d made earlier. After spending two nights in jail, she’d been running scared and not thinking clearly. She’d been so desperate she’d called her aunt Kiki who’d pulled strings and got her out right after the late afternoon bail hearing Monday. Clancy’s plan had been to go to Bozeman and Dex’s apartment as soon as she got out on bail. She’d come straight to the lodge to pick up a change of clothing. Unfortunately, after she’d hurriedly packed and started to leave, she’d spotted the flicker of a flashlight at the Hawkins’ lodge and spotted the blue outboard tied at the dock. She’d assumed the county attorney had put a deputy on her. She knew she was only out on bail because of Aunt Kiki and her money. She figured maybe the county attorney had gone along with the bail to please Kiki but had put a deputy on her to cover his political posterior. So Clancy had foolishly sat by the window to wait him out—not knowing it was just Jake Hawkins, not some deputy, watching her. And she’d fallen asleep and sleepwalked. She stepped back into the shower and let the icy cold water beat her body wide awake. She didn’t dare let that happen again. Nor could she afford to wait until morning to leave. Although she didn’t relish the idea of crossing the lake in the dead of night, Jake had left her no option. She’d wait until she could be relatively sure he was asleep, then she’d take her boat to the mainland marina where she kept her car. From there she’d drive to Bozeman, go to Dex’s apartment and—She wasn’t sure what she’d find there, but hopefully something that would prove she was innocent. Sometimes she could almost forget about the upcoming trial. Almost pretend none of this was really happening. Then she’d get a flash of Dex Westfall sprawled on the couch in the garret. Murdered. And her standing over him with the murder weapon in her hand. One of her own sculptures. Her heart told her she hadn’t killed him. But reason argued: how do you know you didn’t? You were asleep. And look at all the evidence against you. Exhaustion tugged at her, beckoning her to the one place where she didn’t have to think. Sweet slumber. But with sweet slumber came somnambulism, and she feared her nocturnal wanderings. Look what had happened tonight. What had happened tonight? She wasn’t even sure. Her hands shook as she pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. She clung to only one hope. That somehow she could prove her innocence. And the only place she knew to start was with Dex. She had to find out everything there was to know about him, including why he’d ended up dead in her garret. She told herself going to Bozeman, to another county, wasn’t really violating her bail. And anyway, she’d be back before anyone even knew she was missing. If she was lucky. But she’d take extra clothing, just in case. In case she found out something that would prove she had killed him and she decided to make a run for it? Clancy was coming down the stairs, her hair wrapped in the towel turban-style, when she heard the pounding at her back door. “Clancy, I know you’re still up,” Jake called. “You might as well open the door.” She pulled the towel off her head, shook out her hair and used the tip of the damp towel to clean her glasses. Maybe he was coming to tell her he was leaving, going back to wherever her aunt had found him. Hadn’t she wished for the opportunity to really see him before he left? If only her other wishes were granted that easily, she thought as she opened the door to find him standing on her step. He’d changed out of his wet jeans; he wore chinos and a white T-shirt that accented his broad shoulders and his tanned, muscular arms. A Houston Astros cap was snugged down on his sandy blond head; his hair curled at the nape of his neck still wet from a shower. His clean, spicy smell engulfed her. “It’s late,” she said, but he didn’t seem to be paying any attention. He was staring at her as if he’d never seen her before. The same way she was staring at him. Her earlier impression of Jake hadn’t done him justice. He’d been cute at nineteen; now he was strikingly goodlooking. Strong features. A full, sensual mouth. Expressive gray eyes. A man with character. He had the kind of face she’d love to sculpt. A mixture of toughness and tenderness. “You wear glasses,” he said simply, sounding pleased. She didn’t tell him she’d worn glasses since she was fifteen—just not around him when she was a girl. “I can’t see much without them.” He smiled then. “That’s nice.” He leaned one broad shoulder against the jamb. She wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say. Goodbye? Or maybe that he was sorry he’d hurt her. Or even that he understood she’d only done what she had to at the trial. “It’s late,” she repeated. “Yeah,” he said, the smile dissolving as if he’d suddenly remembered why he’d come over. “It’s about your case.” She stared at him, telling herself she shouldn’t be surprised. “I thought I fired you.” His frown deepened. “Your aunt hired me, and she’s the only one who can fire me. And trust me, as much trouble as she’s gone to to get me here, there isn’t much chance of that happening.” Clancy could only assume her Aunt Kiki had lost her mind. “So now that we have that settled.” He glanced past her into the lodge. “Yes, I guess that settles everything.” She yawned openly, not that the Jake Hawkins she used to know could take a hint. “Except for one thing,” Jake said, his voice deadly soft. “I had a fishing trip planned that your aunt interrupted to get me up here.” He held up his hand to silence her before she could tell him what he could do with his fishing trip. “Let me give it to you straight. I’m here for only one reason—to get the goods on you,” he said, his gaze hard as his body looked. She swallowed, the cold hatred in his voice making her heart ache, her eyes burn with tears. Only stubborn determination kept her from crying. She wasn’t about to let him see how much he’d hurt her ten years ago, how much he could still hurt her. “I’m going to find evidence I can use against you,” he said. “And then you’re going to tell me the truth about what you really saw the night of the resort fire, the night Lola Strickland was murdered.” Clancy started to tell him she had told the truth, but she knew it would be a waste of breath. He hadn’t believed her at the trial, why would he believe her now? She looked into his eyes, wondering what had happened to the boy she’d loved, the boy who had loved her. She saw nothing in all that gray but bitterness. But instead of hating him, her heart broke as she thought of all the years he’d suffered. Because of his father. Because of her. Jake should have trusted her. He should have known she wouldn’t lie, she wouldn’t hurt him or his father, and she wouldn’t have thrown away their love without a fight, the way Jake had. “In the meantime,” Jake said, “you and I are going to be inseparable until you’re acquitted—or sent to prison.” She bit back a curse. “You’re making prison look better all the time.” His gaze met hers. “I think I know why you lied about my father, but no matter the reason, you’re going to admit it to me. And very soon.” He touched the brim of his baseball cap. “See you in the morning.” She slammed the door and dropped into a chair at the table, feeling incredibly tired and despondent. Aunt Kiki had brought Jake back knowing how he felt about Clancy, knowing how she’d once felt about him. That old familiar ache seized her heart in a death grip. How Clancy still felt about him. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down over her cheeks, bitter on her tongue. She wiped at them. She still loved him. Through all the hurt, she’d never stopped loving him. Could never stop loving him. But like him, she felt betrayed. And angry with him for not trusting her. She knew she’d have to draw on that anger to keep Jake from knowing how she felt about him—and using it against her. Emotional exhaustion and lack of solid sleep stole at her strength. She leaned her head on her arms and closed her eyes, telling herself she’d rest for a while, just until she could be sure Jake was asleep. Crossing the lake at night seemed less dangerous now. Much less dangerous than facing Jake Hawkins. If there was more incriminating evidence out there against her, Jake would find it. She wished with all her heart that she could turn back the clock, back before the night of the fire and Lola’s murder, back when Jake loved her. She closed her eyes. And saw Jake come sauntering up the sandy beach, sixteen and suntanned, that grin she loved on his handsome face. And she ran out to meet him, as carefree as the breeze that rippled the surface of the lake. * * * CLANCY OPENED HER EYES, shocked to find the sun streaming in through her bedroom window. Even more shocked to find herself curled in the middle of her bed, the quilt rough with sand from her bare feet. She lay perfectly still, her mind frantically trying to recall when she’d come to bed. No memory. That’s when she noticed her left hand clenched into a fist, as if she held something that might try to escape. With dread, she slowly uncurled her fingers. There in her palm lay a single tiny blue bead. Her heart pounded. There was nothing unusual or unique about the bead. Except Clancy knew where it had come from. With a tremor of terror she remembered Friday night when Dex had called and demanded she meet him at the Hawk Island Cafe on the other side of the island. He’d been holding a necklace of colored beads when she’d walked up to him. The outdoor caf? was empty that late at night and that early in the season. Dex sat at a table in a flickering pool of light from the Japanese lanterns strung overhead. She had looked at the necklace with growing dread, thinking it was another present, wishing she hadn’t agreed to meet him. He must have seen the expression on her face, because he gave a bitter laugh as she took a seat across from him. “Don’t worry, it’s not for you,” he’d said, holding up the string of beads for her to see. With a jolt she realized she’d seen it somewhere before. The tiny beads were pale blue. A handmade ceramic heart hung from the center of the necklace. It was painted navy with a smaller pink heart in the middle. “Where did you get that?” Clancy asked, trying to remember where she’d seen it before. “It’s part of my mother’s legacy,” Dex said. His mother? “What are you doing here?” Clancy demanded, wishing she’d never come, wondering how he’d even known where to find her. She’d never told him about the family’s lake lodge. When she’d broken it off with him in Bozeman, she’d thought she’d never see him again. She felt a chill as she watched him hold the necklace up to the light and smile. “What do you want, Dex?” Clancy asked with dread. His eyes narrowed as he glared at her. “You’re part of that legacy, Clancy.” She felt her fear level rise. How could she not have seen this side of him from the very start? “I thought we’d agreed not to see each other again.” “We agreed?” He reached across the table and grabbed her arm, squeezing it until she cried out in pain. “Leave me alone, Dex. I’m warning you—” He squeezed harder. “If you think you’ve seen the last of me you’re—” He looked past her, seeing something that made his eyes widen. He released her arm almost involuntarily. She turned to look but saw nothing in the darkness beyond the caf?. He lowered his voice. “I’m not leaving this island, Clancy. Not until I get what I deserve.” He’d hurried off, leaving her sitting, head reeling, wondering what he’d seen in the darkness that seemed to frighten him. And what Dex thought he deserved. Just hours later, he’d turned up dead in her garret. Now she stared at the tiny bead in her palm, knowing this had to be one of the beads from the necklace. Apprehension rippled through her as she stared at her sandy feet. Something had triggered her night wanderings again. And she couldn’t seem to stop them. Now she’d returned from sleepwalking with a single bead from a broken strand. When had it been broken? And where had she found this one blue bead? Even more frightening, how had she known where to look? She slid her legs over the side of the bed and staggered into the bathroom. As she dropped the bead into the toilet and flushed, she watched it disappear with growing terror. She couldn’t keep kidding herself. Like the broken string of tiny blue beads, her life was coming unraveled. Chapter Three Clancy glanced warily across the bay at Jake Hawkins’s lodge. The shades were drawn; she could catch no sign of movement behind them. The blue outboard was still moored at his dock, a boat she assumed he’d rented to get to the island. She looked at her watch, surprised to find it was earlier than she’d thought. Then she turned her gaze again to Jake’s lodge across the small bay. The coast looked clear. She picked up the overnight bag and her purse and opened the back door, expecting Jake to suddenly appear and block her escape. As she stepped out onto the small back porch, she glanced apprehensively behind the lodge. While she found no one hiding in the lilac bushes that brushed the back side of the building, she did see something that stopped her cold. Slowly she put down her purse and overnight bag and moved toward the first lilac bush. Some of the branches along the lodge side of the bush had been broken. They hadn’t been yesterday afternoon when she’d returned from jail. She was sure of it. She’d stopped on the porch to dig out her key and picked up the sweet scent of the lilacs, now in full bloom. And she wondered where she’d be this time next year when they bloomed. In prison? Clancy brushed back the branches, not surprised to find the grass beneath the kitchen window crushed where someone had stood, looking in. Through the glass Clancy could see her coffee cup at the table, the chair pushed back from where she’d sat last night. Someone had stood on this very spot, watching her! She crashed her way out of the lilacs as if the person was at her heels. Scooping up her purse and overnight bag, she rushed down the beach toward her dock. Who had been at the window? The same person who’d called her down to the dock and tried to drown her? It hadn’t been a dream, her mind screamed. No more than the crushed grass beneath the window. With relief she passed the old boathouse, and Jake didn’t jump out of the shadows to stop her. All that stretched ahead now was the dock and her boat waiting beside it. The sun danced on the slick surface of the lake, golden. The tall pines shimmered, a silky green at the edge of the water. She took a calming breath. The air smelled of so many familiar, rich scents. Safe scents she’d grown up with. But she was no longer safe. From Jake. From the phantom in the lake. From the real live person who’d stood looking in her window. As long as she kept sleepwalking, she wasn’t even safe from herself. She reached the dock without incident and started down it, walking as quickly and quietly as possible. A sudden flash of memory tormented her. A hand coming out of the water. Grabbing her ankle. Pulling her. She walked faster, fear dogging her steps. Just a few feet ahead she could see her boat, a yellow-and-white inboard-outboard; a coat of dew on the top and windshield glistened in the morning sunlight. Once she reached it and started the engine, Jake wouldn’t be able to stop her. The thought buoyed her spirits. She shot a parting glance toward his lodge. Jake must still be asleep. He’d been so adamant about shadowing her every step last night, this seemed almost too easy. She smiled to herself, imagining his surprise when he woke and found her gone, as she untied the bow and started to swing her overnight bag into the hull. “Good morning!” Clancy jumped, nearly tumbling backward off the dock. She swallowed a startled cry, pretending she wasn’t trying to get away and his catching her wasn’t a problem. Jake grinned up at her from the bottom of her boat, where he lay sprawled on a sleeping bag, his arms behind his head. “Going somewhere?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the overnight bag still clutched in her hand. She cursed under her breath. “If you’re set on a life of crime, Ms. Jones, you’re going to have to be more devious,” he said, getting to his feet. “And jumping bail.” He wagged his head at her. “Bad idea.” Clancy groaned. This man was the most irritating—She took a breath, trying to still her anger as well as the silly sudden flutter of her heart as he vaulted effortlessly from the boat to join her on the dock. “Level with me, Clancy,” he said, his voice as soft and deep as his gray eyes. The sound sent a tiny vibration through her, igniting memories of the chemistry between the two of them as teenagers. She wondered if it was still there and hastily brushed that errant thought away. Having to deal with this man on top of everything else was too much, she told herself. She didn’t have the time or energy for this. Nor did she need the constant reminder of what she’d lost ten years ago—or how much more she had to lose now. “Where are you going so early in the morning?” he asked as he stalked toward her, backing her against the edge of the dock, trapping her. Clancy had to tilt her chin back to meet his gaze. He’d cornered her in more ways than one. And she acknowledged that it wasn’t going to be easy to get rid of him. But getting rid of him was exactly what she had to do if she held any hope of clearing herself. “If you must know,” she said, coming up with the first plausible explanation that popped into her head, “I’m going to see my lawyer.” Jake pushed back his baseball cap. “Good, I need to see your lawyer, too.” She shot him a look. “You’re going like that?” He glanced down at his rumpled.chinos and T-shirt, then looked up at her as he rubbed his blond, stubbled jaw. “It kind of makes me look dangerous, don’t you think? Like a man who has nothing to lose?” He gave her a slow, almost calculated smile. “And anyway, what choice do I have? If I were to shower, I’d barely have the water turned on before you’d be hightailing it to wherever you’re in such a hurry to get to.” That was exactly what she had in mind. She wished he didn’t know her so well. He stepped back to allow her room to get into the boat. “But I’m a reasonable man. I’ll even let you drive your boat.” “You’re so thoughtful,” she said, but didn’t move. Outwardly, she gritted her teeth and fumed. Inwardly, she plotted. She would dump Jake. And soon. She had to. She just didn’t know how yet. * * * WHEN CLANCY DIFN’T make a move to get into the boat, Jake swung back in and offered her a hand. He’d hoped his disposition would improve with daylight. It hadn’t. If anything, the late-night adventure, his phone conversation with Kiki and trying to sleep in the bottom of a cold boat with his clothes on had left him even more irascible. Add to that, the gall of Clancy thinking she could get away from him this morning. He’d been on this case less than twenty-four hours, and he felt as if he’d been beaten up by somebody twice his size. He didn’t like the feeling he was being manipulated by not one, but two females. Kiki had hired him for reasons he could no more fathom than he could walk on water. And Clancy. At one time he thought he’d known her better than he knew himself. But that was years ago and a lot of water under the bridge. For all he knew, she was a killer. Let her rot in prison for all he cared. You’ve become a cold-hearted bastard, haven’t you, Hawkins. Reluctantly, he admitted it was true. Something had died inside him that day at the trial. He’d lost Clancy, and he’d lost his father. Only, Clancy had voluntarily chosen to leave; his father hadn’t. He watched her flick a glance at his outstretched hand but make no move toward it or the boat. Instead, she brushed her hair back with her fingers and looked toward shore as if she were thinking of making a break for it. Silently, he dared her to try. So help him, he’d take her over his knee and”Clancy,” Jake said softly. “There’re a few things you should know. One, I hate being lied to. Two, these dirty little secrets of yours? I’m going to know them all before I catch a plane back to Texas, and you can bet the farm on that.” He extended his hand again. “And three, if you try to run again, I’ll track you down no matter where you go, and you won’t like it when I find you.” He flashed her a smile. But to his surprise, she took his hand, stepped into the boat and came right up to him. If he’d thought he could intimidate her, he’d been wrong. Her gaze met his, challenging him, daring him to take her on. “Jake, there’re a few things you should know,” she said as softly as he had. “One, I don’t have the time or energy to lie to you. Two, I have no intention of helping you send me to prison. And three—” her smile deepened “—I’m going to ditch you just as soon as I possibly can.” She moved past him to slide behind the wheel. An instant later she started the boat. Jake smiled to himself as he took a seat next to her. He’d forgotten how much he’d liked Clancy Jones’s spunk as a kid. He was glad to see it was one of the things that hadn’t changed about her. Unfortunately, it didn’t alter the fact that she’d lied about his father or that she was lying to him right now about not jumping bail. If she wanted to play hard ball, he’d play, too. But he doubted she was going to like his rules. * * * THEY PICKED UP the expensive bright red Mustang convertible he’d rented with Kiki’s money at the mainland marina. The marina was one of several his father and Clancy’s had owned as partners. Jake saw Clancy raise an eyebrow as she climbed into the car’s leather seat and realized he’d dropped another notch or two in her estimation. “Doesn’t it bother you to take my aunt’s money on the pretense of helping me?” Clancy asked. “No,” Jake replied, angry to discover that what she thought of him mattered. “I thought you hate being lied to,” she said. “Or do you overlook it when you’re lying to yourself?” He floored the gas pedal, sending gravel flying as he headed into town. Beside him, Clancy smiled. Jake cursed. What an impossible woman! He’d expected her to still be that cute little tomboy he’d grown up with, someone he thought he could handle—not some beautiful woman who knew how to push all his buttons. He swore to himself. What had made him think this job was going to be easy? She smiled, seemingly amused. “You’re certainly wide awake this morning. I don’t remember you being such a morning person.” He didn’t want to be reminded of their past or of the foolish, love-struck nineteen-year-old he’d been. Not that he was about to let that past distract or dissuade him from what he’d come to Montana to do. He’d come to settle an old score, and he had no intention of taking any trips down memory lane along the way. “I’m forced to be wide awake at all hours around you,” he said as he pulled out into the traffic and headed for the office complex. “Want to tell me why you were about to jump bail? Or do you want me to guess?” “Guess,” she said, looking out the side window. “Look, why don’t you just level with me. I’m going to find out, anyway.” She glanced over at him, and to his surprise, her eyes glistened with tears. “What if you’re wrong, Hawkins? What if I didn’t lie about your father?” He felt a sharp stab at his heart, followed instantly by an unexpected desire to take her in his arms and comfort her. What was it about this woman that made him feel protective? Had always made him feel that way? He shoved away the desire, the same way he’d shoved her away ten years ago. “You lied and we both know why.” She shook her head and looked away. “You could tell me the truth now and save us both a lot of grief,” he said, letting the old rancor replace any warmer feelings he might have had for her. “And save you the satisfaction of blackmailing it out of me?” She shook her head. “Not a chance, Hawkins. Let’s find out just how good a private eye you really are.” Jake drove toward Kalispell, furious that she could still get to him. He blamed it on that silly childhood crush he’d had on her. He’d opened up, letting her get closer than any other person in his life. Now he bitterly regretted having done that. It made him vulnerable. And it gave her the upper hand. Okay, so she wasn’t going to make it easy. She was going to make it pure hell. But what she didn’t seem to realize was that he’d already been to hell and back because of her. And it was payback time. * * * CLANCY BREATHED A SIGH of relief when Jake finally pulled up in front of Lake Center, a large old hotel that had been made into an office complex. All she wanted to do was to get out of the close confines of the car and put some distance between the two of them. With a little luck, a lot of distance. But as she started to open her door, he grabbed her arm. She pretended she didn’t feel the jolt from his fingertips that seared her bare skin. “I wish I didn’t know you so well, Clancy,” he said, sounding as though he meant it. “Whatever’s on that conniving mind of yours, forget it. We’re going to see your lawyer and find out what evidence they have against you.” She gave him what she hoped was one of her most innocent looks. “All right. But I’m starved. Why don’t I go get us some breakfast at that caf? up the block and bring it back. What can I get you?” He laughed as he opened his door and got out. She stepped out of the convertible, only to find him waiting for her. She watched him lock the car, her overnight bag in the rear seat. Then he linked his arm with hers and steered her toward the building’s front entrance. She didn’t resist the gentle strength of his persuasive hold on her. It wouldn’t have done her any good if she had. But while she also wouldn’t admit it under Sodium Pentothal, she liked the feel of his skin against hers; she liked his touch, as dangerous as it was to her future, to her heart. And she glimpsed something in his expression that made her wonder if he wasn’t as immune to her touch as he wanted her to believe. “Geez, Jones,” he said as they headed for the elevator. “Breakfast? A bit too predictable and not very imaginative. But a nice try, nonetheless.” Too predictable, huh? Not imaginative enough for him? Well, she’d see what she could do about that. * * * JAKE STUDIED CLANCY as they stepped into the elevator and she pushed the third-floor button. She’d been like a kid in church, squirming in her seat on the way into town, glancing at her watch every few moments, tapping her toe to a nonexistent tune. She reminded him of a woman about to jump off a ledge. Actually, more like a woman about to jump bail, he corrected himself. As the elevator climbed slowly to the third floor, Jake wondered what Clancy would have done this morning if he hadn’t been there to stop her? With the depth of her bank account, she could probably disappear without too much trouble. At least for a while. But why run? Unless she was guilty of Westfall’s murder and knew she was headed for prison. But wouldn’t a woman who planned to disappear forever take more than a small suitcase—or nothing at all—and buy what she needed when she got there? The elevator doors thumped open, and it suddenly occurred to him that there might be a man—a man other than Westfall—in Clancy’s life. That could explain the small suitcase. Jake realized he knew nothing about the nature of Clancy’s relationship with the deceased. Kiki had said Clancy had dated Dex. But that didn’t mean Dex was the only man, now, did it? Clancy could have dozens of men on the string. “You don’t mind if I step into the ladies’ room a moment to freshen up, do you?” Clancy asked, breaking into his thoughts. He grinned at her, hoping it hid his true feelings. “I’d hate to see you any fresher than you already are, but hey, it’s all right with me since I’m coming along. Not that I don’t trust you.” She scowled. “You can’t seriously plan to spend every waking moment with me?” “Every waking—and sleeping—moment.” He took her elbow as they headed down the hall. “That might be a bigger job than you think,” she said cryptically. “And I suppose you want me to believe you’re doing this for my own good, right?” He held open the door to the ladies’ room for her. “How can you doubt it?” She shot him a drop-dead look. “The truth, Jones, will set you free,” he said, and smiled. “Or send me to prison for life,” She took only a quick glance into the rest room before she added, “I think you’re right. I’m fresh enough.” As he let the door close, Clancy took his arm and smiled up at him as if he’d actually done something that pleased her. One side of her mouth crooked up a little, her brown eyes glinted with mischief, and just the hint of a dimple dented her left cheek at the corner of her lips. Jake had forgotten her smile could pack such a wallop. It hit him in the chest, taking away his breath and knocking him off guard. He stumbled. Her smile deepened; humor glinted in her gaze. If he’d had any doubt before, he didn’t now. She knew damned well the effect she was having on him, and she loved it. This was war. And for a moment, he wished there was another way, other than all-out war, to settle things between them. He stared at her, wishing he could find the answers he needed in that face of hers. If only he could look into those brown eyes and know everything he wanted to about her. Like why she’d lied about his father. If she’d killed her boyfriend. Where she’d been going this morning in such a hurry. Why she’d betrayed him. Instead, all he got were more questions from that adorable face of hers. And more suspicions. She brushed against him as she stepped past, the silkiness of her skin sparking responses in him he didn’t want to be feeling. Her scent filled him, branding his senses. He watched the provocative sway of her hips as she walked away from him. He assured himself he could handle this woman, that it would be a pleasure giving her some of her own medicine. But that little voice of reason that kept him honest suggested the best thing he could do would be to get this case over with, pry the truth out of Clancy and head back to Texas lickety-split. He swore softly to himself as he opened the door to the office with the sign that read Attorney Tadd Farnsworth, and watched Clancy waltz through, her bottom filling out her jeans in a way that should have been against the law. Clancy played him like a cheap guitar, but made him feel like he was a fine Gibson. Jake promised himself he’d have her dancing to his tune—and soon. Chapter Four “Jake? Jake Hawkins?” the handsome, prematurely grayhaired man said, coming around his large desk. “I didn’t know you were back in town.” Tadd Farnsworth’s smile was as quick as his handshake and just as slick. “1 didn’t know I had to check in at the border,” Jake said, taking the attorney’s outstretched hand. “And Clancy,” Tadd said. Jake thought Tadd held her hand a little too long, his look a little too sympathetic and seductive. Jake told himself he would have liked Tadd Farnsworth if the man hadn’t been the prosecuting attorney who sent his father to prison. But he knew that wasn’t true. At one time Tadd had been a regular at the island resort, always sporting a fast new boat, always a hit at the parties Jake’s mother threw at the lake lodge. Jake remembered only too well how taken his mother had been with Tadd. That was plenty reason to make Jake dislike the man. Seeing the way Clancy smiled at Tadd, Jake could see that even ten years older, Tadd still had a way with women. He decided he liked him even less. “I was sorry about your mother, Jake” Tadd said as he returned to his chair behind his desk. “I heard she passed away a few months ago. My condolences.” “Oh, Jake,” Clancy said. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.” Jake nodded and took a chair beside Clancy. He didn’t want to talk about his mother. Especially with Tadd. Nor did he want to talk about his father. He pulled his business card from his wallet and tossed it on the desk. “I’m here on the Dex Westfall case.” Tadd picked up the card. His eyes widened. “I’d heard Kiki had brought in some hotshot private eye.” He laughed. “I’ll be damned. So you’re a P.I.” He shook his head. “Interesting, her choice of investigators, wouldn’t you say?” No kidding. “I’d like to see what evidence you’ve got so far.” Tadd nodded. “Sure you wouldn’t like some coffee? Or maybe a stiff drink?” His smile slipped a little as he looked from Jake to Clancy and back. “You’re not going to like this case.” “There isn’t much about it I’ve liked so far,” Jake said. Clancy mumbled something under her breath and looked at her watch. “Don’t worry. This won’t take long,” Jake assured her. “Do I look worried?” she asked with wide-eyed innocence. The attorney excused himself and returned a few minutes later with a large manila envelope. He placed it on the desk in front of Jake and returned to his seat without saying a word. Jake opened the flap, pulled out a stack of papers and flipped through them. He let out an oath without even realizing it. “Told you you weren’t going to like it,” Tadd said. The case against Clancy was overwhelming. “I think I will take that coffee,” Jake said to Tadd. Jake sat stunned as Tadd buzzed his secretary. It had been one thing telling himself the woman who betrayed him was a killer. It was quite another to realize it might actually be true. “Why didn’t the sheriff just hang her on the spot?” Jake asked Tadd after he took a sip of the coffee the attorney handed him, happily discovering it to be heavily laced with bourbon. “Would have a hundred years ago. If she’d been a man.” Tadd chuckled. “Instead, she’s a woman. And a Talbott to boot.” He shot Clancy a smile to say he was just kidding, but with one look from her, it died on his lips. Jake wondered if she realized that she’d be cooling her heels in a cell right now if it wasn’t for Aunt Kiki’s money and the illustrious Talbott name. Not to mention what Kiki must be paying Tadd. Jake wouldn’t be surprised if Kiki wasn’t also making a large donation to the Tadd Farnsworth for County Attorney campaign for added incentive. Jake thumbed through the rest of the evidence, including a list of Dex Westfall’s belongings from the murder scene: a bloody western snap-front shirt, a pair of jeans and red cowboy boots. No socks. No underwear. Jake raised an eyebrow. Had Dex gotten dressed in a hurry for some reason? Or was that his usual attire? Jake made a mental note to ask Clancy. There was also a list of items found at the cabin Dex had rented at the Hawk Island Resort, including Dex’s wallet, watch, keys and some loose change. “He didn’t have his wallet or keys on him the night of his murder?” Jake asked Tadd, suspecting even more that for some reason Dex Westfall had dressed in a hurry. “I guess he didn’t need them,” Tadd said. “No place to spend money and he sure couldn’t drive anywhere. He probably took one of the island trails to Ms. Jones’s.” “You don’t know how he got there?” Jake asked, surprised. “Does it matter?” Tadd said. “He got there. We know that.” Everything mattered, Jake thought. What Dex hadn’t done was drive. There were no cars or roads on Hawk Island. That left two other options: he could go by boat around the island to Clancy’s. Or he could take one of the many mountain trails. Because the sheriff hadn’t found a boat at the scene didn’t mean Dex hadn’t had someone drop him off. And that meant maybe he’d planned to have that same someone pick him up again. Dex was last seen with Clancy after the resort caf? closed on Friday night. That meant there wouldn’t have been any place on the island for Dex to spend money. But Jake still thought it odd Dex hadn’t taken his wallet. Most guys would grab their wallet, keys and watch out of habit. Some things you just felt naked without. Like underwear. The wallet, according to the report, contained less than thirty dollars. He glanced through the photocopy of the items—a Montana driver’s license, a few credit cards. Jake frowned. No photographs. Not even one of Clancy, the guy’s girlfriend. No family photos. No receipts or junk like most people carried in their wallets. No mementos. Dex Westfall’s belongings reminded Jake of a new subdivision. No feeling of history. Everything of Dex’s had been marked on the sheriff’s list as in new condition. Jake found himself wondering just who the hell this guy was and what Clancy had seen in him as he glanced at Westfall’s driver’s license photo again. The guy was almost too good-looking. Jake had never figured Clancy for that type, but then, he reminded himself, he didn’t know Clancy anymore. He looked over at her. For instance, what was she thinking about right now? He realized how little he knew about her. It worried him. A lot. Taking out his notebook, Jake jotted down Dex’s social security number and address from his driver’s license, and took down the credit card numbers. He put everything back in the envelope and looked up at Tadd. “What do you know about this guy?” Jake asked. Tadd shrugged. “No more than what’s here, and we won’t know until his next of kin are notified.” Jake noted Clancy’s sudden rapt attention and wondered why this subject would interest her when nothing else about her case had. “There’s one other thing,” Tadd said. Jake felt the bad news coming even before Tadd opened his mouth. “You should know the sheriff has two witnesses who overheard Westfall and Clancy arguing at the marina caf? the evening Dex Westfall was murdered. Both said they heard Clancy threaten Dex.” Jake groaned inwardly. “One is a waitress at the marina caf?,” Tadd continued. “The other is Frank Ames. You remember him?” Yeah, Jake remembered the tall, pimply-faced kid six years his senior. Frank had always had a major chip on his shoulder, one that Jake had more than once wanted to knock off. Jake’s father had given Frank a job at the resort, wanting to help him. But Frank’s hostile unfriendliness had forced Warren Hawkins to let him go, making Frank Ames all the more bitter. “Frank owns the resort now,” Tadd said. “Maybe you’d heard.” “No, I hadn’t.” Jake hadn’t heard anything about Hawk Island since the day he promised his mother he’d never say his father’s name in her presence again. It had been the day they left Flathead Lake, right after Warren Hawkins had been convicted of embezzlement, arson and one count of deliberate homicide. They’d left town on the whipping tail of a scandal that had rocked the tiny community. Kiki had been right; his mother had insisted they leave without stopping at the Montana State prison in Deer Lodge to see his father even one last time. Jake had kept his promise to her; he’d never mentioned his father’s name. But several times a year he’d visited Warren Hawkins in prison. Jake had wanted to reopen his father’s case and do some investigating on his own, but Warren had asked him not to. Jake had left it alone, not wanting to hurt his mother any more than she had been. But now she was gone. And he was back in Montana thanks to Aunt Kiki. Back on Flathead Lake. And that hunch of his was knocking at the back of his brain, demanding to be let in. Demanding that he follow it, no matter where it might lead. Clancy was his ticket as surely as Tadd Farnsworth was a born politician. It was just going to be harder to get the truth out of Clancy than he’d first thought. “Can I get a copy of this and the autopsy report?” Jake asked, tapping the envelope with his finger. Tadd nodded. “Give me call when it’s ready.” He gave Tadd the number from the cellular phone Kiki had given him. “Here’s my home number,” Tadd said as he took out a business card and wrote on the back. He handed it to Jake. “In case you come up with something.” He sounded more than a little doubtful that would happen. Tadd pushed his intercom button and instructed his secretary to make Jake a copy of the Dex Westfall case, including the latest on Clancy’s sleepwalking defense. “What?” Jake snapped, telling himself he must have heard wrong. He glanced over at Clancy; she met his gaze for an instant, then looked away, her body suddenly tense. Jake cursed under his breath. What else had Clancy and her aunt failed to tell him? “I guess you didn’t know,” Tadd said, smiling sympathetically at Jake. “Clancy was sleepwalking the night Dex Westfall was killed. That’s why she doesn’t remember what happened.” Jake stumbled to his feet, feeling the weight of the world settle around his shoulders. He took Clancy’s elbow and steered her out into the hall. “Sleepwalking?” he demanded the moment the door closed behind them. He couldn’t believe what a chump he was. Even when she’d lied on the stand, he’d figured she only did it to protect her own father. If Tadd was opting for a Twinkie defense like sleepwalking, it meant only one thing: Clancy’d killed Dex Westfall and she damn well knew it. “Sleepwalking?” Jake demanded again, trying to keep his voice down. “I guess I shouldn’t expect you to believe me,” Clancy said, jerking her elbow free of his grip. She started down the hall, but he grabbed her shoulder and whirled her around to face him. He let his gaze rake roughly over her, telling himself not to be fooled by that face of hers with its cute little button of a nose or the crocodile tears in those big brown eyes. He pulled her into the first alcove and blocked her retreat with his body. “Another murder and you just happened to be sleepwalking again?” Clancy found her gaze locked spellbound with his. There was something commanding about him. He demanded her attention, and ever since she was a girl, she’d been unable to deny him. She looked into his eyes; they darkened like thunderheads banked out over the lake. Everything about him, from his eyes to the hard line of his body, warned her of the storm he was about to bring into her life. Jake Hawkins was a dangerous man, one she’d be a fool to trifle with. “I walk in my sleep. I have ever since I was a child.” He stared at her, suspicion deep in his expression. “Sure you have.” She wanted to slap his smug face. “I assume you’ve never walked in your sleep.” “No.” He made that one word say it all. She reminded herself that people who’d never sleepwalked didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. But she wanted Jake to, needed Jake to. “It’s frightening, because when you wake up you don’t know how you got there. You don’t recall getting up. Suddenly you are just somewhere else, and you don’t remember anything. Not even where you’ve been.” She met his gaze. “Or what you’ve done.” “How come I never heard about you sleepwalking when we were kids?” She glanced away. “I was…ashamed. Wandering around at night in my pajamas, not knowing what I was doing. It was something I didn’t want anyone to know about.” Jake nodded, eyeing her intently. “And you’re trying to tell me that the night Dex Westfall was murdered you were walking around in your pj’s, sound asleep, and you don’t remember killing him? Not that you didn’t kill him, but that you don’t remember because you were sacked out?” “I’m trying to tell you the truth,” she said angrily, and wondered why she was even bothering. “Sleepwalking isn’t something I have control over. It just…happens. Like last night.” “Last night?” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “You mean last night on the dock when you were sure someone pulled you into the lake and tried to drown you? Now you’re telling me that you were asleep?” She didn’t like his tone. “I was walking in my sleep.” She took a breath and looked away. He’d never given her the chance to explain ten years ago; he’d just assumed she’d lied on the stand and he’d cut her off without a word. Without a goodbye. “Just like I was the night of the fire.” “How convenient that you were asleep at the murder you committed,” Jake said, bitterness oozing from his every word. He slammed a palm to the wall on each side of her. “And how inconvenient for my father that you just happened to wake up in time to see him kill Lola Strickland.” “Yes.” She ducked under his arm and ran down the hall, blinded by tears and regrets. Behind her, she heard him. The sound was a low, pained howl, the cry of a wounded animal. It tore at her heart. She wanted to take him in her arms, to comfort him. But nothing she could do or say would do that. She’d told the jury the truth. She didn’t know what else had happened that night at Hawk Island Resort because she’d been asleep—walking, but sound asleep. Sleepwalking had always been her private shame. A frightening weakness that was best kept a secret. Until the night Lola Strickland was murdered. Now that horrible memory had come back to haunt her—just the way her sleepwalking had come back. Jake slammed a fist into the wall, too stunned to chase after her. Sleepwalking? She’d been sleepwalking the night of Lola’s murder and the night Dex Westfall was killed in her garret? And last night on the dock? His brain tried to assimilate this information but couldn’t. That’s why her story had sounded like a lie. Could she really not remember anything? Was that why there’d been so many holes in her story? Because she’d been asleep? His mind refused to accept it. Just as it had ten years ago. She was lying. Again. Sleepwalking! Again. He charged after her, only to run headlong into a group of students on some kind of career day. The teacher tried to gather her flock, but they scattered like errant chicks. Jake forced his way through to reach the elevator door just as it closed. He watched the numbers overhead to make sure Clancy was headed down before he took off at a run for the stairs. She didn’t really think she could get away from him, did she? He burst out of the stairwell and into the main lobby as the elevator doors were closing again. He raced over to them, slapping the doors open and startling the only occupants, an elderly couple. “Sorry,” he said. “I was looking for a blond woman. About five six. Cute.” Incredibly sexy. And innocentlooking. He started to make a curvaceous outline with his hands, but stopped himself. “Nice figure. Wearing a navy shirt, jeans and sandals?” They both gave him a knowing smile. The elderly woman pointed across the hall to a door marked Women. “She seemed a little upset,” the woman said, clearly blaming him. “Thanks.” As the elevator doors closed again, Jake made a beeline for the bathroom, cursing himself for letting Clancy out of his sight for even an instant. He stormed through the doorway, propelled by a flammable fuel of high-grade anger. “If you think I’m going to believe this latest story of yours—” he said, taking up the conversation right where they’d left off. His voice echoed off the tiled walls. A half-dozen women looked up, startled. Clancy wasn’t at either of the two sinks powdering her nose. That left only the row of four stalls. “Sir, you’re in the wrong rest room,” one woman politely informed him as if he didn’t know. He politely informed her that he didn’t care, then he leaned down to look for Clancy’s sandaled feet in the occupied stalls. No Clancy. The last stall appeared empty; someone had put a handmade Out of Order sign on it. Most of the women had the good sense to flee from the room, though they did it in high indignation, telling him in no uncertain terms what they thought of his behavior. You want to see bad behavior, he thought to himself, wait until I get my hands on Clancy. A couple of women stayed to give him grief. He ignored them, waiting for the stalls to empty out. As he glanced around the room, he assessed the situation. There was only one door. Clancy hadn’t had time to come back out. Jake waited for the last woman to exit. As she stomped past, he noticed that the summer breeze coming through the open window at the end of the room smelled sweet with the scent of freshly mown grass. Jake could hear the sound of a lawnmower buzzing just outside at ground level. In front of the window, someone had upended a trash can. Jake cursed himself and his stupidity as he pushed open each stall door on his way to the window. All the stalls were now empty, just as he knew they would be. And on the corner of the metal window frame was a small scrap of navy blue material that perfectly matched the shirt Clancy had been wearing. Damn her hide, she’d given him the slip. Chapter Five Clancy caught the first flight out of Kalispell. She thought she’d feel safe once the plane was in the air. Instead, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was after her. And not just Jake Hawkins. She glanced around at the other passengers but saw no one she knew. No one even appeared remotely interested in her. As the plane banked to the east, she looked out the window and told herself she had to calm down and think clearly. Her life depended on it. And yet she’d never felt more afraid, more alone. Except for one other time in her life. The night of the resort fire. The night Lola Strickland was murdered. Clancy closed her eyes and tried to fight back the painful memories. But the memories came, edged with one penetrating truth: she’d walked in her sleep that night, just as she had the night Dex Westfall died. It had been late that night ten years ago when she’d come down the stairs, awakened by the sound of her parents arguing. Her parents never argued. Until that moment, she’d led an idyllic life on the island. The only dark spot in her whole childhood had been her required yearly visits back East to see Aunt Kiki and get a little culture so she didn’t grow up a wild heathen. Clancy had hated the visits, the stiff, prissy dresses, the long, boring lessons in social graces, her aunt’s endless lectures on the value of money and the Talbott name. But it was her aunt’s low opinion of Clancy’s father that made her call Kiki the Wicked Witch of the East. Kiki had always thought her sister had married beneath the family name when she’d married Clarence Jones. Clancy idolized her father. Clancy had stopped on the stairs when she heard her father’s voice saying that he couldn’t go to the police, wouldn’t go to the police. Warren was his best friend. But her mother had argued that Warren was stealing from the businesses and had been for some time. Clancy felt a sick, sinking feeling, knowing that their lives had suddenly changed and would never be the same again. When her father left by boat to meet Warren at the resort, Clancy followed by land, afraid for her father for reasons she couldn’t explain then or now. But when she reached the resort office, she could hear her father and Warren inside and decided to wait in one of the boats tied at the dock. She’d fallen asleep. Later, she’d woken only to find that she’d walked in her sleep. To this day,’ she had no idea where she’d been or what she might have seen. All she remembered was waking to find herself standing outside the office. Her father’s boat was gone. Inside the office she could hear voices raised in anger. From the shadows, she watched in horror as Warren Hawkins struggled with Lola Strickland. Lola stumbled backward into an adjoining room. Both figures disappeared for a few moments, then Warren emerged at a run. Behind him the office burst into flame, and within seconds the fire consumed the building. Just thinking about that night brought back the incredible regret. Lola’s death and Warren Hawkins’s arrest ended the life she and Jake had known on Hawk Island. Jake and his mother left Flathead; Jake left hating Clancy. Clancy’s parents had moved to Alaska to start over. They’d lost everything. Kiki purchased the lodge at Clancy’s pleading. Clancy had foolishly hoped her family would some day be reunited there. Two years later her parents were killed in a small plane crash outside of Fairbanks. Clancy didn’t come back to the boarded-up lodge for years and then only occasionally. At first the bad memories were just too painful. Then the good memories started to surface again. She opened her eyes and looked out the plane window. She’d had such hopes when she’d returned. Had she made a mistake coming back? Was there a curse on the island and her? Some debt not yet paid? She felt a chill as she thought of Jake. He’d believed his father’s version of what happened that night. Warren Hawkins testified during the trial that he knew nothing about the missing money. After Clarence Jones left, he’d gotten out the books to go over them. Warren was in charge of that part of the businesses in the partnership with Clarence, but he’d turned a lot of the responsibility over to Lola, he’d said. Warren said he’d heard someone in the adjoining office. When he’d gone to check, he saw two suitcases outside the door and found Lola cleaning out the safe. He’d tried to stop her. Lola had poured gasoline around the office, obviously planning to cover her tracks. In their struggle, she must have lit the gas. The room burst into flames. That’s when Warren swears he saw someone move in the shadows; someone else was in the office by the back door. When he ran out, Lola was still alive. He thought she was right behind him. Warren said the other person in the office that night must have taken the money from the safe, because it wasn’t found in the debris from the fire and Lola certainly didn’t get away with it. That person must have also murdered Lola. In the autopsy it was found that Lola had died from a head wound—not from the fire. That made Warren look all the more guilty. In the end, the jury didn’t believe there was another person in the office that night. Nor did they believe Lola set the fire. It looked too much like Warren had embezzled money from the businesses and tried to cover his misdeeds with the fire. Lola, who was leaving the island, just happened along at the wrong time. All of the joint businesses’ books were destroyed in the fire. Warren couldn’t prove his innocence. Nor could the police prove his guilt. Clancy’s testimony had clinched it. Warren was convicted of embezzlement, arson and deliberate homicide. He got sixty years at the state prison at Deer Lodge. And because of Clancy’s testimony, Jake had walked out of her life without a word. The hurt from that still made her heart ache. And now—Now he’d come back. For revenge. Just what she needed, Clancy thought as the plane descended into Gallatin Field outside of Bozeman. An old boyfriend with a grudge on top of all her other troubles. At the airport, Clancy rented a car and drove the eight miles into Bozeman to Dex’s condo. She felt as if time were running out. Jake wouldn’t be far behind her, she knew that. And he’d be furious. Boy, was that putting it mildly. But she hoped that by the time he tracked her to the airport, discovered she’d flown to Bozeman and rented a car, it would be too late for him to stop her. By then she’d have searched Dex’s place and hopefully found something that would help her case. Though she couldn’t imagine what. There was also the possibility that Jake would go straight to the county attorney. By the time she reached Bozeman, the police could be looking for her, as well. Either way, she needed to get this over with as quickly as possible. Dex owned a condo on the southside of town, set back against a hill overlooking Sourdough Creek. Clancy parked and sat in the car for a moment, watching the quiet street. No other vehicles cruised by. She told herself she was just being paranoid. No one was after her. Except Jake. And maybe the entire Bozeman police. And possibly the person who’d tried to drown her last night. She picked up her purse from the seat and got out, closing the car door behind her. As she walked toward the front door of the condo, she searched the street. A florist’s van passed by; the driver never even looked her way. She could only hope the spare key was where it had been the last time Dex locked himself out. Carefully, she slid the large flowerpot slightly to one side. Nothing but dust. She pushed it a little farther and was relieved to see the key. Quickly she scooped it up, slipped it into the lock and turned. The door swung open. Clancy stepped into the high-dollar condo, wondering whether the police had already been here, whether they’d already searched the place and found something that would further incriminate her. The cluttered condo didn’t surprise her as much as the man who came out of the kitchen. “Excuse me,” he said, sounding annoyed and a little frightened by her intrusion. He was short, with rumpled dark hair and sunless pale skin, and he was wearing nothing but shorts. “How did you get in here?” Her first thought was that the condo had been sold. Her second was that Dex had a roommate she hadn’t known about. A roommate who was looking more than a little anxious. “I’m a friend of Dex Westfall’s,” she said quickly, not sure that was exactly accurate, but it beat the alternative. That she was the woman the police had arrested for Dex’s murder. “Dex Westfall,” the man said, shaking his head. Had he heard Dex was dead? She felt her heart rate accelerate. Worse yet, had he heard about her arrest? “I suppose he gave you a key.” She shook her head, wondering how she was going to explain what she was doing here. “I used the one under the flowerpot.” He swatted the air with the pancake turner in his hand. “Did Dex tell everyone where to find the key to my condo?” “Your condo?” Clancy thought she must have heard him wrong. “Dex Westfall was only house-sitting for me for a few months,” he said, his tone increasing in both volume and irritation. “I come home to find he’s run up my phone bill and failed to pay the utility bills, and now the police want to talk to me about God knows wh—” Behind the man, smoke curled out of the kitchen. He spun around and charged out of the room. Pans clanged into the sink. A kitchen fan came on. A few moments later, he stalked back into the living room. “Look,” he said, his face flushed. “The guy’s a deadbeat. Just give me the key and tell Dex I don’t want to see him or any more of his girlfriends around here, all right?” He didn’t know Dex was dead. “The police called you?” “I got a message on my machine,” the man said. “I haven’t had time to call them back.” He seemed to resent her questions, but also seemed resigned to answer them. No doubt he felt sorry for a woman stupid enough to fall for Dex Westfall. “I just got back yesterday from Australia. I haven’t even had time to unpack yet.” He held out his hand for the key. Clancy noticed the stack of newspapers by the door. Magazines and junk mail were piled high on a telephone table by the door. “Did Dex leave any personal items here?” she asked as she handed over the key. “He has something that belongs to me.” The man rolled his eyes. “Dex isn’t completely stupid. He packed up and got out just before I returned home. Did you check his apartment?” She stared at him. “His apartment?” “You don’t get it, do you,” he said, his face growing redder. “Dex Westfall is a lying sleazeball. You aren’t the first woman to show up looking for him. Or the last, I’m sure.” No, she hadn’t got it. She realized how little she knew about the man she’d dated. The man she was now accused of murdering. “Where is his apartment?” Her voice came out a trembly whisper. He reached over to snatch a scrap of paper and a pen from the phone table and scribbled something on it. “If you loaned him money, forget it. I’m sure it’s long gone. Just like I would imagine he is. This is the address he gave me.” Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/b-j-daniels-3/hotshot-p-i/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. 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