LITMIR.BIZ

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yanked his duffel bag from the closet, then retrieved the extra pistol he kept in the storage compartment beneath the floor. Thankfully Jasper hadn’t noticed the rug covering the spot. Granted he’d get in trouble for having it since he was out on bail, but he might need it for protection.

      He couldn’t rely on anyone else.

      He piled his clothes on top. Jeans, work shirts, a couple dressy Western shirts, an extra pair of work boots. Even though it was summer and he didn’t need it, he grabbed his long duster. Basically, it was everything he owned.

      Because he wouldn’t be coming back.

      His toiletries went into a toiletry bag and he was ready to go.

      He took one last look at the bunkhouse room and wondered what the sheriff had thought he would find under the mattress.

      Jasper had probably been disappointed that Cash didn’t have incriminating pictures of himself and Sondra or a damn journal describing how he planned to kill her. Instead, he’d found Cash’s business plan, not a blueprint for murder or kidnapping.

      Still, he had that damn video of Cash entering the motel where Sondra had died. And his knife with his bloody fingerprints on it.

      Frustration blended with fear.

      That might be enough to put him away for life.

      * * *

      BJ STUDIED DONOVAN. “We think the little boy’s birth father might have something to do with his mother’s murder. Finding him could be key to proving Cash’s innocence.”

      Donovan leaned heavily on his left leg as if his other was hurting. “I told you, I got no idea.”

      “Did something happen between you and Elmore?” BJ asked. “Did he try to sabotage your business?”

      Donovan shook his head. “I’m small potatoes. He offered to buy me out once, but I turned him down.” He gazed across the ranch. “I love this place. It’s home.”

      “Did he pressure you?”

      “No. No need to. I certainly wasn’t any competition for him.” He gestured toward his truck. “The hands should be at the dining hall for lunch. I’ll drive you over so you can talk to ’em.”

      BJ studied his face. He seemed genuine, as if he held no grudge against Elmore.

      BJ climbed in the passenger side. The truck was old but clean, the motor humming as he drove the half mile to the dining hall. The rustic building boasted a big cowbell in front. The ranch hands were lining up on the porch and trickling inside.

      The scent of barbecue drifted to her as soon as she climbed from the truck.

      As they entered, she counted ten men in line, and a cook and two helpers were setting out trays of buns, barbecue, coleslaw and baked beans. Another station held water, milk, coffee, tea and lemonade.

      “There’s Will Hanks,” Donovan said. “He shares the bunkhouse with Cash.”

      BJ scrutinized the tall, lean cowboy. Probably in his twenties. Good-looking with an air of confidence. A flirtatious gleam lit his eyes as his gaze met hers.

      “This is BJ Alexander. She’s Cash’s attorney,” Donovan said.

      Hanks’s smile wilted slightly. “They think he killed Sondra Elmore, right?”

      “Those are the charges,” BJ said. “Why? Do you have information regarding the case?”

      He shifted from foot to foot, then looked away. “I don’t think Cash is a killer. But he liked that woman and her kid.”

      “Was Cash violent?” BJ asked.

      He grabbed a tray. “I don’t know. He had a rough childhood,” Hanks said. “One of his foster fathers beat him a lot. That’d make a man angry.”

      BJ’s heart squeezed. She’d heard horror stories of foster care. “Did he talk about Elmore?”

      The man added extra barbecue sauce to his bun. “He said Elmore reminded him of that foster father.”

      Hmm, that comment could work against Cash in court.

      “Do you know who fathered Sondra Elmore’s child?”

      He shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

      They talked for another minute as he filled his tray, but he had nothing bad to say about Cash. Just as she was about to join Donovan again, another cowboy approached her.

      This man was shorter and introduced himself as Hyatt Spillman. “You asking about Cash Koker?”

      She nodded. “What can you tell me?” she said as they stepped onto the porch.

      He shuffled a toothpick in the corner of his mouth. “I heard a phone conversation between Koker and that woman Sondra the morning of the day she died. They were arguing.”

      BJ’s pulse jumped. “What did they argue about?”

      He made a clicking sound with his teeth. “I couldn’t hear what she said, but he told her he loved her and promised to take care of her and her kid.”

      BJ crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Go on.”

      “She must have turned him down, ’cause he got mad. Told her he’d never let her go.”

      Anger seeped through BJ.

      Cash had lied about being in love with Sondra. And they’d argued the day she died.

      What if he’d flown into a rage because she wanted him out of her and Tyler’s life, and he killed her in a fit of passion?

      Spillman’s story brought up all sorts of doubts. She couldn’t automatically rely on the man, because it was clear someone could be trying to frame Cash.

      But if not...

      She was going to have to be extra thorough on this one to get to the truth. And not let Cash’s attachment to Tyler cause her to free another guilty murderer.

Chapter Five

      BJ texted Maddox and asked him to meet her at the dining hall.

      “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Spillman.” She handed him a business card. “If you think of anything that can shed light on Sondra Elmore’s death, please call me.”

      He tapped the card against his hand. “You be careful, Miss Alexander. I’d hate to see the same thing that happened to Sondra happen to you.”

      The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Was that a threat? Or a warning about Cash?

      Maddox pulled up with a grim-looking Cash in the back.

      “Did you find anything?” she asked when he rolled down his window.

      “Jasper already thoroughly searched the place. If there was anything there, he confiscated it.”

      “If he says he found something, he planted it,” Cash said in a voice laced with anger. “I told you I didn’t kill Sondra.”

      “I’ll call Jasper.” BJ entered the sheriff’s number into her phone, her own temper close to the surface. “This is BJ Alexander. I need to know everything you found when you searched Cash Koker’s bunkhouse.”

      “I don’t have to tell you anything,” Sheriff Jasper barked.

      “Yes, you do. Before the trial, you’re required to disclose all evidence to the defense attorney. That’s me. So why don’t you make both our lives easier and do it now?”

      Jasper cursed. “All right, lady. We found pictures of Mr. Koker and Sondra. Looks like they were all lovey-dovey.”

      She twisted to look at Cash, her pulse clamoring. “Explain.”

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