The Cowgirl in Question Part 10

"I didn't do anything," she protested. "He just came into the office this morning to give me my keys and announced that he wanted all of us to be at the Mello Dee Sat.u.r.day night and, get this, to wear the same clothing-as if we still had it. What, we donated it to the museum for safekeeping? Can you imagine? Obviously time stood still for Rourke, but for the rest of us-"

"Blaze, forget about the d.a.m.ned clothes." He couldn't believe this. She was so worked up she was babbling and didn't even realize the consequences of her actions. "Don't you know how dangerous this is?"

She quieted for a moment to stare at him. "Dangerous?"

"Are you a complete ninny?" he snapped. "If Rourke isn't the killer, then who is? Someone we know?"

"That's crazy."

"Your cousin has said from the beginning that someone must have seen her put that note on Rourke's windshield and read it and saw a chance to set up McCall," Easton said in exasperation. "How else did the killer know that Rourke was going up Wild Horse Gulch, how else could the killer have framed Rourke for the murder?"

She was staring at him. "a.s.suming he was was framed." framed."

Easton stared back at her. She didn't really think Rourke was a killer, did she? Would she try to use a killer to make him jealous? Was she that stupid?

"Ca.s.sidy probably lied," she said.

He shook his head. "Let's not go there again." She'd been singing that song for eleven years, only no one had believed that Ca.s.sidy was behind the frame-or the killing. No one except Blaze and maybe Rourke.

"But if Rourke killed Forrest-"

Easton let out a curse. "If you believe that, then how in the h.e.l.l can you agree to this reenactment? Hasn't it dawned on you that Rourke might be planning this merely to get even with us?"

"Us?" she echoed, her gaze honing in on him like radar. "What are you talking about?"

"This town, Blaze. We sent him to prison. Maybe for a crime he didn't commit. Either way, he's back and clearly he wants to even some score." He shook his head at her.

"If you're worried that Rourke will come after you because you're with me now..."

Easton gave a withering look. "He has already come after me. I found out today that he hired a private investigator who's been snooping around ADC, and I'm not the only one Rourke's been investigating."

"So what?" she demanded with obvious irritation. No doubt she was disappointed he hadn't made something of Rourke returning her apartment keys. She didn't have a clue.

He sighed. "So Rourke isn't going to rest until he gets vengeance. Rourke's going to take down as many of us as he can in that quest." He raised a brow. "Maybe you included, Blaze. I've never believed you went straight home that night and I would wager Rourke doesn't, either."

Chapter Eight.

Ca.s.sidy hated the bubble of euphoria she felt as Rourke walked into the cafe. She hadn't expected to see him, just a.s.sumed he would be spending the day-if he hadn't already spent the night-with Blaze.

He took a booth in her section rather than sit at the counter, meeting her surprised expression with a smile. He looked different today. More rested, less anxious, she thought as she grabbed a menu, a cup and a pot of coffee and headed toward the booth.

"Hi," he said. "I was hoping you could join me. If you're not too busy."

The afternoon coffee-break crowd had thinned out and it was still too early for supper. She couldn't really decline, even if she'd wanted to.

"Okay." Even with the obvious change in him, she couldn't help but be leery.

"Have you had lunch?"

She shook her head.

"Good. I hate eating alone."

She'd forgotten what his smile could do to her. "You know what you want?" He hadn't opened the menu.

"Chicken-fried steak, biscuits and gravy and whatever comes with it."

She couldn't help but smile as she wrote down the order. When she looked up, he was staring out the window.

"Is that all?" she asked.

He didn't respond and she followed his gaze to see Blaze pulling out in one of the ADC Suburbans. Ca.s.sidy had seen her earlier in a blue dress that left nothing to the imagination. Was it any wonder she attracted men like flies to honey?

Ca.s.sidy looked away to wipe at a spot on the table with the corner of her ap.r.o.n. She was determined to fight these feelings she had for Rourke. And she refused to be jealous of Blaze. If Rourke wanted Blaze, well, then that was just fine with her.

She hadn't realized he'd turned his attention back to her until she glanced up and saw that he was watching her and seemed to have been for some time.

"I should warn you," he said, as if he knew what she'd been thinking. "I had a talk with Blaze this morning."

"I don't need to-"

"I'm going to reenact the night Forrest was murdered Sat.u.r.day at the Mello Dee Lounge and Supper Club."

She was speechless.

A sheepish grin moved across his face. "I told Blaze it was your idea."

She gasped. "Why would you do such a thing?"

He smiled and shrugged. "She was so d.a.m.ned sure that you wouldn't go along with it. I couldn't help myself."

"Blaze must be beside herself," she said, and glanced out as her cousin drove away. She caught Blaze's expression. The woman had fury in her eyes as she glared at Ca.s.sidy. "I'll put our orders in," she said, suddenly ravenous herself as the Suburban disappeared down the street.

When she returned to the booth, Rourke said, "Beautiful day, isn't it."

Ca.s.sidy stared at him, wondering what had changed since yesterday. When he looked at her she'd didn't see the hard anger in his eyes or the brittle bitterness. Instead, she saw something that scared her even more. Hope.

She couldn't bear to see him hurt again and she feared he was setting himself up for a fall by staging the murder night. Worse, by crossing Blaze.

"Rourke, I have to warn you. Blaze can be a little mean-spirited when she doesn't get her way."

He threw back his head and laughed. "She's h.e.l.l on wheels, but don't worry, I won't let her harm you."

"Me? I was thinking of you."

He shook his head. "You and your cousin couldn't be more different, you know that?"

She knew that. Eleven years ago she would have given anything for whatever it was about Blaze that had made Rourke want her.

"Seriously, are you sure this reenactment is a good idea?" she asked.

He was smiling. "It's a terrible idea. I hope we don't have to go through with it." He met her surprised gaze. "By Sat.u.r.day, I'm banking on you and me having already found Forrest's killer."

"You and me?"

Was he serious? "Rourke-"

"You made me realize yesterday that I hadn't been paying a lot of attention to what was going on around me eleven years ago."

She felt herself blush and was grateful when she heard the bell announcing that their orders were up. She returned with his chicken-fried steak and a chicken sandwich for herself.

"Thanks," he said, and dug in. "This is great. So, will you help me?" he asked between bites.

Was he really offering her a chance to help him? To redeem herself for the part she'd played in his going to prison? She studied his handsome face. Or was he setting her up, still convinced she had something to hide?

It didn't matter. She would give anything to help him find even a little peace. She couldn't give him back the eleven years. But maybe she could put some of Rourke's ghosts to rest. And some of her own, as well.

"I'll do anything I can to help you," she said. "But, Rourke, I don't know anything. I can't imagine what help I would be."

"You've already helped," he said, and grinned. "By coming up with the reenactment plan." His expression warmed her to her toes.

They ate in silence for a few minutes.

"You've done a remarkable job with this place," he said, glancing around the cafe, his eyes coming back to her.

"Thank you." She felt shy under the intensity of his attention. This change in him reminded her of the old Rourke, but it also worried her.

"Last night, I thought a lot about what you said," Rourke remarked between bites. "If I really wasn't the intended victim, then that could change our entire approach to finding the killer."

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" she asked. "I mean finding the killer. I thought after someone put that snake in your pickup yesterday..."

He smiled, his eyes dark. "Only a coward puts a rattler in a man's pickup to scare him. Or a fool. The person who killed Forrest doesn't want to kill again. That's why he's trying to warn me off."

She nodded, not so sure about that.

"I was thinking about your theory," he said as they finished eating.

"That's all it is, you realize," she said quickly.

He nodded. "The thing is, how did the killer know you were going to write the note or that I was going to get into a fight with Forrest that night?"

She'd thought about this for years. "Well, the way I figure it, once he had the gun, all he had to do was wait for an opportunity to present itself-if his true intention was to get rid of Forrest and put the blame on you."

"My gun," Rourke said, and swore under his breath.

"You kept a gun on a shelf in your bedroom," she said, and hated her accusing tone.

"I know what you're going to say."

"Do you?"

"The gun was a...keepsake. I hadn't fired it since I was a boy and my grandfather used to take me out...." He shook his head. "Never mind. The point is anyone could have taken it the night of my birthday party."

She rolled her eyes. "What about in the weeks before the party? The truth is, you don't have any idea when it was taken-or by whom."

"Just for the sake of argument, let's forget about Blaze."

She raised a brow. "Is that wise?"

"I'm not having any trouble with it," he said, meeting her gaze.

"I don't care about your relationship with Blaze," she said, telling herself it was true. "I just think it is foolish to overlook a suspect out of..." She waved a hand through the air as if unable to find the words.

He grinned at her. "Because I'm so besotted with Blaze that I can't think rationally?"

"Yes."

He laughed. "Let me worry about Blaze. I might surprise you." He sobered. "As you were saying, my fight with Forrest that night gave the killer the opportunity he was looking for."

She nodded. "All he had to do was get Forrest to some deserted spot and use your gun with your fingerprints on it."

His eyes narrowed as if he was wondering how her note to him played into her theory.

"Or," she continued, "the killer might have heard the same thing I did-Forrest on the phone setting up the meeting with Blaze."

"You're convinced it was Blaze, even though she denied it in court?"

Ca.s.sidy ticked off the reasons on her fingers. "Blaze left early. When was the last time she did that? Never. She used the fight, which she instigated, as her excuse not to see you later that night, right?" She nodded when he saw from his expression that she was right.

"Blaze liked to play hard to get sometimes," he said.

Ca.s.sidy wasn't about to touch that. "Also when I saw Blaze and Forrest together a week before the murder, I heard him call her honey bun-just like he called whoever he told to meet him up Wild Horse Gulch the night of the murder."

Rourke's jaw muscle jumped. "Maybe he called all women honey bun. The guy wasn't very imaginative."

She gave him a pitying look. "Didn't it strike you as odd that Forrest stayed at the Mello Dee after the fight? After the beating you gave him, wouldn't he want to get the heck out of there? So he finishes his drink, glances at his watch, then goes to the phone as if he was waiting to call someone. Waiting for her to get home?"

Rourke was frowning.

"He calls a woman-we do agree on that, right?"

Rourke nodded.