Twelve-Gauge Guardian

“A journalist?” Cordell grimaced as he glanced again at the photographs in the satchel. “This is about some article?”

“Are you going to question everything I say to you?” she demanded, going on the offensive.

“I am until I hear something I can believe.”

She tried a little truth on him. “I’m working on an old missing person’s case, a child who was abducted sixteen years ago from Whitehorse. Her name was Emily Frank.”

Cordell studied her openly before pulling out the stack of photographs from the abductions. As many times as she had looked at the photos, she never failed to be moved to tears by the piles of charred bones, the rusted fifty-five-gallon barrels where the remains were found or the faces of the children still missing—and presumed dead.

Cordell shoved back his Stetson, looking shaken and uncertain, as he pulled out all the research material she’d gathered. “All this is related to the article you’re working on?” he asked in disbelief.

She nodded.

“This child, Emily Frank … Tell me you aren’t here looking for her remains.”

“No. I’m interviewing the people who knew her.”

He was watching her closely as if he knew she was leaving out some key piece of information—and wondering why. “So how many people have you interviewed?”

She knew where he was headed with this. He was trying to decide if her article research was connected to his brother’s accident.

“None. I only got to the town yesterday,” she said. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to anyone yet.”

He frowned. “Someone knows you’re in town.”

He was right about that, she thought and added truthfully, “I have no idea how they might have found out.”

Cordell sighed. “What newspaper or magazine do you work for?”

She tried not to glance away from his black bottomless gaze. “I’m freelancing this one.”

“How about a home address, a former newspaper or magazine, someone who can verify your story.”

She felt her eyes narrow as she met his gaze. “My mother took off when I was a baby. I never knew my father. I’ve been on my own since I was eighteen. I put all my things into storage before I left California. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be gone. So, no, I don’t have a home address or anyone who can verify what I’m working on.”

“Someone knows,” he snapped and pulled off his Stetson to rake his fingers through his hair. “Chucking it all for a story, that’s some dedication to your work. Why Montana? I’m sure there are missing children in California. There must be hundreds of stories you could have done there, if not thousands. Why this particular case?”

She was forced to look away. “I saw a picture of her. There was just something in her eyes …” She swallowed back the lump in her throat.

“I’m going to have to go through all of your notes, everything you have on this case.”

She balked, just as she was sure he’d known she would.

“I should mention,” he said, his words like thrown stones, “I went to the sheriff this morning. She just happens to be my cousin. I told her you stole my brother’s pickup and might have been involved in the attack on him. She’s already put an APB out on you because you left the scene. Unless you want to go to jail, I suggest you reconsider.”

“I’ve told you what I’m doing here,” she said, shaken to hear that his cousin was sheriff. “Why don’t you tell me what brings two private investigators to Whitehorse, Montana?”

His eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t expected her to find out who he was. Along with surprise though, there was grudging admiration in his gaze. “Not that it’s any of your business but my brother and I came here to see our grandmother, Pepper Winchester. She’s … dying.”

She flinched as a shaft of guilt pierced her conscience. She believed him. Just as she believed his shocked reaction to the photographs in her satchel. This man wasn’t working for a sexual child predator. At least she hoped not.

“Come on, we need to go somewhere so I can go through all of this,” he said. “Or are you going to lie to me and tell me that all of this doesn’t have something to do with you and the article you’re writing?”

She wasn’t.

He nodded, seeming relieved for once she wasn’t going to argue the point. “Since my brother’s pickup isn’t going anywhere until a wrecker pulls it out, you’re riding with me.”

“I’d like to speak to the nurse at the hospital first,” she said.

He turned back to look at her.

“I just want to verify what you’ve told me about your brother.”

“I’ve heard that journalists don’t take anyone’s word on anything without at least a backup source, but do you really think I’d lie about my brother being in a coma?” Even under the shade of his cowboy hat, she could see the piercing black of his gaze. He was angry and she really couldn’t blame him.

He shook his head in obvious disgust. “Fine. When we get to a place where my phone works, you’re welcome to call the hospital.” He swore under his breath. “Are you always this paranoid?”

“Only when people really are after me.”

He sighed and pulled out his cell phone. “No coverage. Or do you want to check yourself?”

“I’ll take your word for it until cell phone service is available.”

He shook his head. “That’s real damned big of you. Let me make something clear, I’m not sure what happened last night but I have a pretty good idea. You and your article got my brother into this. If guilt or the threat of jail doesn’t work, then I’ll use whatever methods I have to, but you will help me find the people who did this to him, one way or another.”

CORDELL COULDN’T believe this mess. Cyrus in a coma and him saddled with this journalist and her paranoia.

Now what the hell was he going to do with her? he asked himself as he studied Raine Chandler. The cool breeze stirred the hair at the nape of his neck and he turned to see a dark bank of clouds on the horizon to the west. Great, just what he needed. A thunderstorm and him miles from a paved road.

He remembered as a kid how the roads would be impassable until after a storm when the wind and sun dried things out.

He considered making a run for town, but he could tell by the way the clouds were moving in that he would never make it before the storm hit. The rental car would be worthless and his brother’s pickup was buried in the mud and not going anywhere. He swore under his breath again.

There was only one place to go.

As much as he hated it, he knew it was the best plan given the storm and the fact that he needed to take Raine somewhere so he could go through all of her research materials. His brother might have stumbled onto trouble last night, but Raine Chandler was up to her neck in it.

All he had to do was find the people after her.

That meant going to a private spot where she didn’t try to get away from him until he found out what he needed. Cordell groaned at the thought though. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“To my grandmother’s ranch. It’s closer than town.” He saw something flicker in her eyes. “Or would you rather go to jail?”

“Maybe I’d be safer there.”

He stopped to give her his full attention. “If you think your virtue might be at risk coming with me, then let me set you straight. You aren’t my type and I have much more important things on my mind than sex. That blunt enough for you?”