Carla Cassidy - Killer Cowboy

She tamped down her disappointment. “You’ll keep me informed if you find out anything that will solve the murder?”

“Of course,” he replied and still didn’t look at her. Instead he appeared to find the rooster in the center of the table utterly fascinating.

“Did Sam’s phone tell you anything?” she asked.

“Nothing worthwhile. So far I haven’t learned anything that would move the case forward.”

“Did you talk to Butch?”

“I did, and I believe he’s a dead end and had nothing to do with Sam’s death.” He finally looked at her once again. “I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll just say good-night,” she replied.

He nodded and went out the door.

Despite the hour an early twilight had fallen. Cassie turned on the kitchen light and ladled up a bowl of chili for herself.

If he hadn’t kissed her so thoroughly the night before she wouldn’t be feeling so disappointed that he hadn’t stayed to eat with her tonight.

The kiss had scrambled her brains and made her want more despite her reluctance to form any kind of a relationship with any man.

It wasn’t just the very hot kiss. He’d been so easy to talk to and she’d enjoyed their conversation and the laughter they’d shared the night before. She’d been intrigued by Dillon Bowie since the moment she’d met him, and eating dinner with him last night had only made her more interested in him.

Maybe it was a good thing he hadn’t stayed to eat with her. The chili was overspiced and the corn bread was burnt on the bottom. Another failed attempt at cooking, she thought with chagrin.

After eating her dinner she cleaned up the kitchen and then wandered restlessly around the great room, the hours before bedtime stretching out empty and silent before her.

It was just after seven when she decided to go out to one of the small sheds and get some more of her aunt Cass’s journals that were stored there. She’d found the stash of journals several months ago and had been reading them off and on since then. She’d read all the ones she’d brought into the house and tonight seemed like a good time to read a new one.

She grabbed a jacket off a hook by the kitchen door and pulled it on, then retrieved a flashlight from beneath the kitchen sink.

The night appeared darker than usual without the benefit of any moonlight or star shine. She clicked on her flashlight and headed toward the shed in the distance.

She found it oddly comforting to see the lights shining outside the windows in the cowboy motel. They were like beacons of comfort and reminded her she wasn’t all alone on the property.

The shed was a fairly small wooden structure and inside were things her aunt had stored. Along with the journals there were boxes of old kitchen utensils, Christmas decorations and a huge box of brightly decorated ceramic Easter bunnies.

She released the padlock and pulled the door open, her flashlight beam dancing across the boxes. Thankfully, the one she wanted was on top and easy to get to.

Opening the box, she used her light to grab a handful of the journals that were on top. The shed door slammed shut behind her. She whirled around with a surprised squeal.

Had the wind suddenly picked up and blown the door closed? Impossible. Her heart nearly beat out of her chest. The door was heavy and only a tornado-like gust could have shut it.

She ran to the door and tried to open it, but there was no give. An edge of panic crawled up her throat. She used her shoulder to push against the door, but it refused to open.

Somebody had shut the door and locked her inside. Oh, God, who had done this and why? Full-blown panic grabbed her by the throat.

She dropped the journals on the floor and banged on the door with her fist. “Hello? Somebody help me! I’m in here!” She screamed the words over and over again.

All the men would be in their rooms by now, too far away to hear her cries for help. There was only one person who might hear her and that was the person who had locked her in.

She froze, her heart racing even faster. Was he standing just outside the door right now? Gloating as he heard her panicked screams? Was he going to listen to her terror and then open the door and...? A vision of Sam dead in the hay filled her mind. She nearly dropped her flashlight as an icy chill suffused her. Tears burned at her eyes, half blinding her in the semidarkness.

She banged on the door and began to scream once again in wild hopes that somebody would hear her, praying that somebody would save her. There was no point to stay silent whether the person who’d locked her in was just outside or not.

She didn’t know how long she banged and yelled before she heard a voice. “Cassie?” The faint, familiar voice drifted through the door.

“Adam? I’m in here. Please, open the door,” she cried. She heard the lock being removed, and as the door opened a sob of relief escaped her.

“What happened?” Adam asked as he reached for her. “How did you get in there?”

“I came out here to get something and the door slammed behind me and I couldn’t get out and...” She broke off as she began to cry.

“Let’s get you to the house,” Adam said.

She nodded and reached down to grab the journals. She was still weeping as Adam threw a comforting arm around her shoulder and led her toward the house.

When they got inside she collapsed on the sofa. “What were you doing outside?” she asked as her tears slowly subsided.

“I always do a check on things around the ranch in the evenings,” he replied. His eyes were dark and filled with concern. “Who did this? Why would somebody lock you in the shed?”

“I don’t know.” She bit her lower lip as tears threatened once again. “I didn’t see who did it. I didn’t see anyone around and I don’t know why anyone would want to do such a thing.”

“You need to call Dillon.” Adam sat on the sofa next to her. “There’s no way this was some kind of a freak accident. Somebody had to close the door and fasten the padlock.”

A new chill raced through her. Yes, she needed to call Dillon. She had no idea what intention the person had when they’d locked her in the shed, but there was no way it was good.

* * *

Dillon pulled up in front of his ranch house. It was the place he’d once thought would be filled with love and the sound of children laughing. He’d never dreamed he’d come home each night to a dark and lonely place.

He killed his headlights and got out of the car. He’d eaten a burger at the café and now hoped he could empty his mind enough to get a good night’s sleep. His brain had worked overtime all day. As if the murder investigation wasn’t enough, the kiss he’d shared with Cassie had intruded into his thoughts throughout the entire day.

He unlocked his front door and walked in. Minutes later he was in his recliner with a beer in hand. When he’d bought this three-bedroom, two-bath house set on ten acres of land, he’d never dreamed he’d be living here alone.

He’d made so many plans with Stacy, the girl he’d fallen in love with when they’d both been high school juniors, and he’d been utterly blindsided when she’d not only left him, but had also left Bitterroot for life in a big city. He’d heard through the grapevine that she’d moved to Chicago. He hoped she’d found whatever she’d been looking for.

Sipping his beer, he tried to remember kissing Stacy. Strange, he couldn’t remember what it felt like. Instead thoughts of kissing Cassie filled his head.

Her lips had been so hot and so wonderfully inviting. Damn the woman. He needed to keep his distance from her. He was convinced she was just another Stacy waiting to happen and he couldn’t go through that kind of thing again. He’d rather be alone than take a chance with her.