Caroline Burnes - Texas Midnight

She knew she was fooling herself. There hadn’t been an inch of bend in the man in the bookstore. Not an inch. But she’d driven a long way, and she wasn’t going home until she tried again.

Throwing off the blankets, she kicked the fire out and checked the hobbles on the horses. They would be fine for a while.

“I must be crazy,” she said aloud.

Even as she talked, she unhitched the horse trailer, got in her truck and slowly headed down the rock-strewn path toward the main road. Jeremy lived out near a small community called Hunt. It was only a twenty-minute drive. She could get there, have her say and get back to her horses in an hour.

The clock on the dash showed midnight when she pulled off the main road and down the narrow lane that led to Jeremy’s home. The grounds, or what she could see of them in the beams of her truck lights, were well tended. The house, when she finally got to it, was modest and cheerful. There were even flowers blooming in the beds. She wondered if he was a secret gardener or if he paid to have the work done.

As she neared the door, which was well lighted, she noticed an herb patch. She didn’t try to stop her smile. This was how she’d imagined Jeremy would live. Bending down, she pinched a few plants and identified basil, lemon dill and mint. She put the herbs in her pocket for luck.

Her knock was bold, and yet it brought no response. She knocked again. The radio was playing inside, and when she waited several minutes and no one came to the door, she moved around to look in an open window. She wasn’t a Peeping Tom, but she couldn’t resist. It would be a thrill to catch a glimpse of him at work—even if he was no longer her favorite author.

A light burned in what appeared to be a study. A big desk chair faced a computer station against the far wall, where a screen of text glowed brightly. Otherwise, the room looked empty.

As her eyes better adjusted to the dim light of the room, she made out a dark shape on the floor. Even as her eyes registered the outline of a body, her brain tried to resist it. Jeremy Masterson wouldn’t sleep on the bare floor. Her impulse was to run—fast. But she couldn’t. What if Jeremy was injured? Had suffered a heart attack?

“Hey!” Anna called louder. “Mr. Masterson!” She beat on the window frame, hard.

Jeremy didn’t budge.

Anna reached into her pocket, pulled out her pocketknife and cut the screen. The sharp knife zipped through it, and in a matter of seconds there was a hole wide enough for her to slip through.

She jumped to the window ledge and slid through to the floor. Hurrying, she rushed to the body, unaware of the blood until she stepped in it. She knew then she’d made a terrible mistake.

Gently turning the body, she saw first the multiple stab wounds to the chest— Suddenly she realized that the dead man was a stranger. It was not Jeremy Masterson, but someone she’d never seen. There was no help for him. His body was already stiffening with rigor mortis.

The horror of what she saw numbed her. Anna forced herself to remain still, to breathe, to think. Her grandfather had been a man of rigid control. He’d taught her the danger of emotionalism and fear, and Anna reached deep inside herself, seeking that discipline.

Body trembling, she slowly stood and tried to determine what had happened. A stack of manuscript pages sat on the desk, and by them, the computer screen glowed a vivid blue. The full danger and brutality of the scene hit her hard. She couldn’t save the dead man, and the worst thing that could happen would be for her to be found with the body.

She ran to the window and climbed back out, then sprinted across the lawn to her truck. As she drove away and pulled onto the main road, she looked around to make sure no one witnessed her exit from the murder scene.

In the full light of the Texas moon, the field of bluebells seemed dusted with silver. Jeremy put his arm around Gabriel. She’d been an enchanting date—she’d read all of his novels and had, twice, actually quoted from Blood on the Moon. Jeremy couldn’t help but be flattered by such attention from a lovely woman.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Gabriel said, as if she knew he was thinking about her.

“It’s so beautiful.” He pointed out across the meadow. His friends, Mike and Rachel Kettering, had turned an old homestead into a showplace. But then, Texas in the spring was hard to ugly up, he thought with a grin.

“It is lovely. And in your books, you describe it just this way. I’ll bet you have a million fans writing you.” She gave him a teasing look. “And most of them women.”

“Hardly that many,” Jeremy said, enjoying Gabriel’s undivided attention. Earlier, he’d left the book signing, Ellie’s demands that he head straight to the Kettering’s ranch still ringing in his ears. He’d made one personal detour, and had arrived in plenty of time to help, but as he’d suspected, the hosts had everything under control. He and Mike had spent the time before the party sipping bourbon and swapping yarns. Now he was feeling expansive and relaxed.

“Do you have any really dedicated fans? I’ve often wondered what it would be like to get mail from absolute strangers.”

“Some are stranger than others,” Jeremy said, his tone light, but his thoughts heavy. He wouldn’t exactly call Anna Red Shoes a fan, but she stayed in his mind. He was glad he’d dissuaded Ellie from reporting the incident to the police. Anna’s accusation had stung, and the less attention she got at this point, the better. He preferred to deal with her himself.

He turned his attention to Gabriel’s lovely eyes. “You’re very beautiful. But then, you already know that.”

“Want to go for a walk in the moonlight?” she asked, pressing a little closer to him.

Jeremy felt his body’s sudden desire to do exactly that. He and Gabriel, alone beneath the moon in a field of bluebells. It was the stuff of fantasies. But he hesitated. His last breakup had been unpleasant, and he’d vowed not to get involved with a woman until he completed the sequel to his novel. In his opinion, women and writing didn’t mix well. Both of them were jealous mistresses.

“I was actually thinking of going home,” he said.

“It’s only midnight,” Gabrielle whispered. “Come on, Jeremy.” Her voice was almost a purr. “Let’s have a little privacy.”

He briefly tightened his hold on her shoulders. “Ah, you’re a tempting woman,” he said. He bent to brush his lips across her neck. “But I’ve taken a vow to finish my next book before I allow myself the luxury of a woman’s company.”

She laughed. “A vow. How monastic! Do you write in a robe?”

He joined in her laughter. “You have a definite way of painting a picture,” he said. “Maybe you should write.”

She turned away from him. “There are too many writers in Texas already. By the way, I was sort of expecting Blane Griffin to be here. I read somewhere that you two were best friends.”

Jeremy tried not to react. His friendship with Blane was over, and all because of a woman. It was one more reminder not to allow the very tempting Gabriel to lead him off the path toward his next novel. Besides, he needed to talk with Henry.

“Blane and I grew up together,” he said. “And I do have to go home. My editor isn’t happy with my latest book. We need to have a conversation.”

“At midnight? What am I, a pumpkin?”

There was frustration in her voice, and he put his hands on her shoulders and held her gently. “I’d like to get to know you better, Gabriel, but I’ve worked for twenty years for this opportunity. I can’t afford to mess it up because I meet a woman who makes writing a second choice.”