LITMIR.BIZ

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yet.” Mitch also started to eat.

      “You’ll let me know?” Cara urged.

      “What I can.”

      “But you’ve got to…” There was a worried note in her voice, but she seemed to visibly cast it away. “Good enough,” she finished with a sigh. “For now.” Her momentary silence as she stared at the wooden booth over his shoulder made Mitch wonder what she was thinking. Then she gave a small nod, as if she’d answered her own internal question, and said, “I’m going to go at it from the other angle. This murder has to be related somehow to Andrew McGovern’s and Jebediah Rawlins’s murders.”

      “Their murders were solved,” Mitch reminded her. “Two separate killers. Our former mayor did Andrew in, and Paul Lambert killed Rawlins.”

      Cara nodded. “But there’s that law firm connection. And maybe something to do with its client, Ranger Corporation. I’m considering a political connection, too, since Mayor Daniels was involved in the first murder.”

      Political… That reminded Mitch of the snatch of conversation he’d heard between Sheriff Ben Wilson and Deputy Hurley Zeller: that Cara’s snooping might ruin the election. He’d mulled it over. Why would they care? The only thing he could figure was that Ben was thinking of running for mayor. The top county commissioner had taken the position temporarily after the former mayor’s disgrace and death, and had made it clear he didn’t want to stay there. If Ben won the next mayoral election, it would leave the sheriff’s position open. Zeller and Mitch were the most likely candidates, but Mitch knew who Ben Wilson would back. And it wouldn’t be him.

      Could Ben win? What kind of mayor would he make? Heaven help Mustang Valley!

      “Mitch?” Cara was staring at him. “Did you think of something important?”

      Important to him, not this case. “Not really.”

      “You promised to share, damn it.” She rose and grabbed her big purse, reaching into it for her wallet.

      “Sit down,” Mitch urged. “I am going to share what I can. That’s what I can promise, no more.” He didn’t like promising even that. Solitude and secrecy were as vital as breathing to him.

      Cara suddenly looked young and vulnerable again, almost the way she had when he’d come across her at the crime scene.

      Something had hurt her.

      And he had no business feeling as if he wanted to slug the hell out of whoever, or whatever, it was.

      “Cara, tell me what the problem is.”

      She stared at him, then slid back into the booth. “Nothing. But if we’re going to work together, then we’re both going to work together. Understood?”

      “As long as you understand that I can’t tell you everything,” he repeated.

      She stared, then held out her hand over the table. He did the same and shook. Her hand was small in his. Touching her warm, vibrant skin, even in so businesslike a gesture, made his temperature rise.

      He released her and took a quick, cooling sip of his cola. When he looked up, she was still studying him, as if determining whether she could trust him.

      Obviously their deal, such as it was, was important to her.

      To him, too. He needed an alliance of sorts with her, some degree of control over this determined reporter.

      He’d made himself learn the appearance of teamwork at the Sheriff’s Department, though trust was as foreign a language to him as the cawing of crows. Especially with the way he was often treated as an outsider. Was that due to his father’s bad judgment in hiring him and for taking bribes? Or was it due to Mitch’s own heritage?

      Or to his preference for keeping his own counsel?

      Probably a combination, though he was certain that no one in the department knew he was continuing his own investigation. After two long, frustrating years there were times he wondered if he was still investigating, since new leads were all but nonexistent. But he was patient. He made himself exude patience, as if he were a runner and calmness was his sweat.

      It didn’t hurt that he had encouragement from his contact at the state attorney general’s office.

      Now he’d have to make sure Cara and he didn’t work at cross-purposes. Otherwise, she could blow this new murder investigation, intentionally or by accident.

      “Let’s talk strategy,” he finally said. “How do you plan to research your story?”

      “Well,” Cara said slowly, as if making up her mind whether to speak. Then her voice took on its usual determination. “I’m going to call my friend Lindsey Wellington. She’s at Bart Rawlins’s ranch. They were the ones who figured out Paul Lambert killed Bart’s uncle Jeb, then tried to frame Bart for it. She was an associate at the law firm, so she’s out of work. Which is fine with her for now. Bart and she are going to be married. Maybe she can shed some light on what Nancy wanted to show me.”

      “Good idea. You’ll let me know what she says?”

      Cara nodded. “And I’m planning to meet with the Ranger Corporation’s Mustang Valley representative to get his perspective on the killings.”

      That direction could lead to quicksand. “Be careful,” Mitch warned. “I’ve heard the guy—Rosales—is up in arms about the allegations against his company. The talk at the department is to tread carefully there, not make unsubstantiated claims.”

      “I won’t allege anything I can’t back up. I’ll report the facts. They’re public, anyway. Our dear former mayor killed Andrew McGovern to hide his conflict of interest because of his investment in Ranger Corporation. By the way, in the spirit of sharing information with you, I was once engaged to Andrew.”

      That jolted Mitch. “Sorry,” he murmured.

      “It was a long time ago.” Yet it still drew shadows in the depths of her soft hazel eyes. “And Paul Lambert,” she continued more strongly, “killed a rancher to try to get control of his property so it could be sold to Paul’s client, Ranger Corporation.”

      “Looks that way in both cases,” Mitch acknowledged, “but no evidence we found pointed to Ranger’s direct involvement in the killings. They’d apparently just come to town to buy property for some development. We couldn’t hang anything on them showing they solicited either the mayor’s investment or their lawyer’s eagerness to make the property they wanted available.”

      “But you looked?”

      “The guys on those cases did,” Mitch said. He gave her a rundown of the unclassified stuff he knew—and that elicited a big smile from her.

      If information got her to smile like that, he wondered what else he could tell her… Don’t be an ass, Steele, he cautioned himself. Cara Hamilton was a reporter. A very good reporter.

      “Too bad we can’t question either Mayor Daniels or Paul Lambert about a connection,” Cara said when he was done. While trying to escape after being found out, the mayor had crashed his car into a tree and died. Lambert had committed suicide in his cell. “Do you think Lambert’s partner, Donald Church, would know anything?”

      “If so, I doubt he’d tell you. He’s a lawyer. He won’t violate attorney-client privilege and talk about the firm’s client, Ranger Corporation—particularly if it might somehow link him to all that’s gone on, or at least make him look like a fool. Far as I know, he still intends to practice law here, though the former Lambert & Church firm is down the toilet.”

      “I can’t prove that whatever Nancy wanted to show me had anything to do with Ranger, anyway,” Cara acknowledged. “But I’ll talk to Church to see what his position is. And to see what else I can learn. Could be something else was wrong at the law firm that prompted the murders—including Nancy’s.”

      “Maybe,”

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