LITMIR.BIZ

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it had been a long time ago.

      He began to dig again, turning over one shovelful of dirt after another, trying to gauge how deep the body would have been buried.

      As he dug, he tried not to think about that hot summer night. Not the sounds he’d heard. Nor the fear he’d felt knowing he could be next. What he hadn’t known was who they were burying out back. He didn’t know that until the next morning. Until it was too late.

      The heat bore down on him. He stopped digging for a moment to look up at the blue wind-scoured sky overhead and catch his breath. Standing there, it was impossible not to think of the past. Had a day gone by that he hadn’t remembered this place?

      He’d spent years looking over his shoulder, knowing whose face he would see that instant before he felt the blade. But now he was no longer that skinny, scared boy. Nor was he a man willing to run from his past any longer. It would end here.

      He began to dig again. Had it really been twenty-one years since he’d left this godforsaken place? Coming back here, it felt as if it had only been yesterday.

      His shovel hit something that made the blade ring. He shuddered at the sound as he looked down, expecting to see bones. Just a rock. No body buried here.

      He stopped again, this time the skin on the back of his neck prickling. As he had earlier, he felt someone was watching him. Carrying the shovel with him, he strode back to the house and stripped off his shirt to use it to wipe the sweat from his eyes.

      For a moment he stood at the back door, surveying the land behind the house, the tall, old cottonwoods that followed the creek bed, the weather-beaten barn and outbuildings, the rolling grassy hillsides.

      He couldn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean Roy Vaughn wasn’t there. He was the man Nate had to fear now, just as he had as a boy.

      Stepping inside, he turned on the faucet at the old kitchen sink, letting the water run until it came up icy-cold, all the time watching out the window. He could almost convince himself he’d only imagined that someone was watching him.

      Discarding his shirt, he scooped up handfuls of water, drinking them down greedily. Johnny’s remains were out there somewhere. With all his heart he wished it wasn’t true. That Johnny had run away, just as he’d been told. But he knew better. Johnny would have come back for him if he’d gotten away. Johnny wouldn’t have left him at Harper House. Not when Johnny had known how dangerous the place was for Nate.

      As he turned off the faucet and wiped his wet hands on his jeans, he gazed out the back window again.

      Ellis Harper hadn’t let anyone near the house in years. That meant no one else would have had a chance to dig up the body and hide it, right? He’d come as soon as he’d learned of Harper’s death. But had he come too late?

      Bare-chested, he went back out and began to dig again in a different spot, the heat growing more intense. He dug down deep enough, turning over a final shovelful of dirt, and looked down into the hole seeing nothing but more earth.

      This was the area where he’d thought they’d buried the body. He’d stake his life on it. Hell, he was staking his life on it.

      There was just one problem.

      The body was gone. If it had ever been here.

      CRICKETS CHIRPED IN the tall grass as McKenna dismounted, loosely tied her horse and slipped between the logs of the jack fence.

      The grass brushed her jeans, making a swishing sound as she moved through it toward the house. She listened for the sound of a rattlesnake, telling herself not only was she trespassing but her father could have been right about the dangers—including snakes.

      A stiff breeze at the edge of the house banged a loose shutter and whipped her hair into her face. She stopped to look around for a moment, feeling as if she was being watched. But there was no vehicle parked in the drive. No sign that anyone had been here in a very long time.

      She tried the screen door on the front porch first. The door groaned open. The wind caught it, jerked the handle from her fingers and slammed the door against the wall.

      McKenna thought she heard an accompanying thud from inside the house, as if someone had bumped into something. She froze, imagining Ellis Harper coming out with a shotgun. But Ellis was dead. And she didn’t believe in ghosts, right? “Hello?”

      No answer.

      “Hello?” she called a little louder.

      Another thud, this one deeper in the house. She stepped to the front door, knocked and, receiving no answer, cupped her hands to peer through the window next to the door.

      The house was empty except for dust. That’s why the recent footprints caught her attention. The tracks were male-size boot soles. Someone from the county would have been out to check the house before the auction, she told herself.

      The tracks led into the kitchen at the back. What she saw leaning by the back door made her reconsider going inside. A shovel, fresh dirt caked on it, stood against the wall. Next to it was a plaid shirt where someone had dropped it on the floor.

      Her horse whinnied over at the fence. Another horse whinnied back, the sound coming from behind the house.

      Someone was here.

      Not someone from the county, who would have driven out and parked in front. Someone who’d come by horseback. Someone who didn’t want to be seen? Just like her?

      Ellis Harper’s funeral had been earlier this week. Anyone who read the paper would know the house was empty.

      But why would that person be digging?

      She retreated as quietly as possible across the porch and down the steps. As she angled back toward where she’d left her horse, she glanced behind the house.

      There appeared to be several areas on the hillside where the earth had been freshly turned. She hadn’t noticed it earlier; all her attention had been on the house. As she reached the fence and quickly slipped through, her horse whinnied again. The mare’s whinny was answered, drawing McKenna’s gaze to the hillside beyond the barn in time to see a rider on a gray Appaloosa horse.

      From this distance she could see that the rider was a man. He was shirtless, no doubt because he’d left his plaid shirt in the house where he’d discarded it along with the shovel.

      She caught only a glimpse of him, his head covered by a Western straw hat, as he topped the hill and disappeared as if in a hurry to get away.

      She wondered who he was. Obviously someone who wasn’t supposed to be here—just like herself. She hadn’t gotten a good enough look at him and knew she wouldn’t be able to recognize him if she saw him again, but she would his horse. It was a spotted Appaloosa, the ugliest coloring she’d ever seen—and that was saying a lot.

      As she swung up into her saddle, she couldn’t help but wonder what the man had been digging for—and if he’d found it.

      ARLENE CALLED HANK Monroe to confirm their appointment to sign him up for her rural dating service before she headed into Whitehorse. The first thing that had struck her was his voice. It was deep and soft and sent a small thrill through her. Had any man’s voice ever done that before? Not that she could remember—but then, she was no spring chicken anymore.

      She knew she was setting herself up for disappointment. The man couldn’t be as good as he sounded either in his e-mail or on the phone.

      “I’m looking forward to meeting you,” he’d said. “I have to confess, I’ve never done anything like this before. You know, dating online. The way my generation did it was gazes across a crowded room. I’m a little nervous.”

      She’d assured him there was nothing to it.

      But Arlene was nervous herself when she reached the Hi-Line Café where they’d agreed to meet.

      The moment she walked in and spotted Hank Monroe sitting at one of the booths her heart began to

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