Jodi Thomas - Lone Heart Pass

Brigman frowned. “The man hadn’t been dead more than a few hours. He was probably left in the canyon about twilight. Most of the hikers would have been gone by then. Norton grew up around here; he knew the trail so he’d let his kids stay late in the canyon.”

“So no clues?” Charley tried to think why someone would kill an old man and leave his body out here by a trail hikers used. He must have wanted the body found. Maybe he wanted to make some kind of statement?

Or whoever did this was planning to come back and bury the body when the rain stopped. There were spots where the ground was soft—easy to dig a grave. There were caves, too. This unfortunate fellow probably wasn’t the first body buried out here.

Charley remembered that about ten years ago a science class looking at rocks had found a skeleton buried with handcuffs like they’d been on the man when he died.

“One clue,” the sheriff said as he pulled a plastic bag from his vest pocket. “When we moved his body, this was underneath. One joint.”

“Drugs?” Before Charley could say more, his boss’s horse brushed his shoulder.

He turned and lifted his arms in an offer to help her down, but the last thing she’d said about not touching or helping her crossed his mind. Patting her mount, he lowered his hands, hoping the sheriff didn’t notice the coldness between him and Jubilee.

Charley simply stood, holding the reins as she tried to swing out of the saddle with at least an ounce of grace.

The horse shifted, widening his stance on the uneven ground. Jubilee’s body slammed against Charley as she lowered. The full impact of her moving against him shook him. He forced calmness far beyond what he thought possible as her soft parts moved against him, reminding him he may have sworn off women, but he wasn’t immune to them.

As her boots crunched against the rocky ground, the horse moved away, and Charley felt the loss of her pressed against him like a sudden blow.

Jubilee had the nerve to look at him as if their accidental brush had been a conspiracy. As though Charley and the horse had planned the whole encounter.

He held open his palms as if to say he had nothing to do with it. At least this time, if she accused him of anything, he could use the sheriff as a witness.

Only when Charley glanced at Brigman, the sheriff looked as though he felt sorry for him, rather than planning to come to his defense.

Charley swore to himself again he’d have nothing to do with any woman. Even the crazy ones had the ability to mess with his mind.

He told himself she could stay or go. He didn’t care. All that mattered was the job and he needed this one to last long enough to save a little more money.

CHAPTER EIGHT

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