LITMIR.BIZ

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not, big brother.” Colt stood, too, and even managed a half smile. “So, tell Grace I’m just fine. I’m healing nicely and plenty happy about not having anyone around to bug me.”

      “I’ll tell her. But look, we’re actually flying to California with the kids tomorrow and staying with Grace’s grandmother for a couple of weeks. Why don’t you move to our house while we’re gone?”

      Sam and Grace and their two little ones were living in the old Chance homestead, where the family had been raised. And where their mother had died. They’d remodeled the old place some, but as far as Colt was concerned the ghosts remained.

      “I don’t think...”

      “Tell you what, I’ll leave you my key and the security code. You’ll be a heck of a lot more comfortable at the house than you are here. And the hands will be available to cook and clean. No one will bother you. I promise.”

      When Colt remained unconvinced and let it show, Sam added, “I haven’t had time to go through all of Mama and Daddy’s papers since we moved in. Daddy’s old combination library and office is still just like he left it. Maybe you can find something to help in your investigation there.”

      Sam screwed up his mouth and then went on, “And everything you find in our house will be obtained legally.”

      Colt held in the grin and nodded. “Maybe.”

      But meanwhile he intended to work his own version of an investigation. Doing it legally was the least of his worries.

      * * *

      Deputy Lacie McCord stretched and yawned as she left the Chance County sheriff’s station for the night, heading out across the nearly empty parking lot toward her car. She’d just pulled a double shift, thanks to the Yardley boy who’d started a fire in his neighbor’s barn. And she was filthy and exhausted.

      She didn’t really mind doing the extra duty. The sheriff’s staff and volunteer fire department both being short-handed was the reason she’d managed to snag this position in the first place. Her stepfather, the sheriff, would never have hired her had he not been desperate. The two of them hadn’t spoken since the day she’d fled town right after high school. Not until she’d applied for the job.

      He didn’t hide the fact that he’d never much cared for her, and the feeling was mutual. But hating her stepfather with a passion that bordered on obsession hadn’t stopped her from wanting to work for him.

      Too many questions remained unanswered in Lacie’s mind to stay away from Chance forever. And when her mother was committed to a nursing home after a diagnosis of Alzheimer’s and the deputy’s job happened to come up at the same time, she’d finally accepted that the only way to live a full life would be to return home and find her answers.

      Settling into her ancient Subaru and belting in, she turned up her nose at the way the interior smelled. Like barbecue brisket and garden mulch. Not such a pleasant scent, but there wasn’t much she could do about it.

      Next to her car, the sheriff’s department pickup she’d used on patrol today sat parked and locked for the night. It was a strong temptation to change over to the better-smelling county-owned vehicle for the ride home. Chance County only employed four deputies and three part-time dispatchers, and all of them but her drove county vehicles to and from work.

      But to her mind, it just didn’t seem right for the sheriff’s stepdaughter to drive a county car for personal use. What would the townspeople think?

      If she had to work for the bastard, which it seemed at least temporarily she did, no one would have a reason to complain about nepotism. Not if she had something to say about it.

      She cranked the key while staring out the bug-ridden windshield toward the long, low brick building housing the sheriff’s department. When she’d come back to town to take the deputy’s job, she’d learned the “new” building had been erected five years ago. Constructed courtesy of Travis Chance, the head of the Bar-C and owner of much of the land in Chance County. His donation, in addition to a massive fundraiser the town had put together, gave them enough money to modernize the whole sheriff’s department.

      Computers and air-conditioning and brand-new patrol trucks. Chance County had updated their sheriff’s office as if it were a department as large as one in the city of Houston. She knew about one of those, as she’d been employed there for the past few years before coming here.

      Her Subaru wheezed, hesitated and finally rumbled to life. But still she sat and stared. Something seemed off.

      Only Louanna, the part-time dispatcher, should be in the building at this hour. Yet a light had just gone out in one of the storage rooms in back. If it was Louanna moving around back there, that would mean she wasn’t doing her duty at the front desk. Didn’t sound like the woman.

      Lacie tried to focus on the outside perimeter of the building, though deep pitch-darkness everywhere but at the front kept her from seeing too clearly. Was that something, or someone, moving through the shadows in back?

      On pure instinct, her right hand went to the gun at her hip. Now she felt sure something was wrong.

      Leaving her car running in Neutral, she quietly stepped out and headed across the parking lot toward the rear of the building. If this was an employee coming back to retrieve something they’d left at work, she would apologize and feel foolish.

      But if this were someone breaking in...

      Breaking into the sheriff’s offices? Who would be stupid enough or drunk enough to do anything like that? And why?

      Adjusting her eyes to the low light coming from the stars and half-moon, Lacie bent at the waist to make herself a smaller target and started through the sage and brush surrounding the building. She heard a slight rustling, and then footsteps against the hard, packed ground. Finally she saw the silhouette of a man, creeping along the edge of the building.

      “Hey, what are you doing?” Guess the perpetrator took that as a rhetorical question, because he took off running as if he’d been shot.

      Ah, hell. After a day of physical strain doing her job, now she was forced to chase down an intruder?

      From what she could see, he was a big guy. But with a lean build. Just her luck, he’d probably be a runner.

      “Stop!” Another seemingly useless statement, as he never slowed down. So she set off to catch him across the darkened fields.

      Praying to be spared the ankle sprain that could come from accidently stepping into a prairie-dog hole in the dark, she ran full-out. She pumped air into her lungs as a cool night breeze stirred her hair. She pounded across the arid soil.

      Soon she was gaining ground on him. But catching up this fast seemed rather odd considering the differences in height and stride. As she closed in, she realized the man had a decided limp to his gait. Thank heaven, or she might have had to face a lot of ribbing from the male deputies when she came up empty-handed.

      When she looked up, the guy had disappeared in the darkness. What the heck was he up to?

      Just then, she lost her footing and stumbled down an embankment that had appeared out of nowhere. The surprise brought a high-pitched squeal from her mouth and a certainty that her man would be long gone by the time she stopped.

      Swallowing her frustration, she tried digging in her heels to stem the fall—without much luck. Then suddenly her forward momentum stopped abruptly. She’d run right into a broad chest and muscled arms.

      “Whoa,” a deep voice said out of the night. Was this the same guy she’d been chasing?

      Whoever her savior was, he grabbed her upper arms and held her close to stop her from sliding farther down the embankment. “Are you all right?”

      In seconds she had her body under control and found purchase in the slippery dust. She pushed back from him, checked the weapon in her holster and then went for the flashlight attached to her belt.

      Who

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