The Bodyguard's Return Page 2

  Her hair suited her small, delicate features. She wasn’t beautiful, but she was striking. More importantly, there was no blood on her pink sweater or gray cropped slacks. No splatters on the tops of her polished boots.

  “Who are you and what are you doing here?” he asked. What had happened in Charlie’s house before he’d arrived, and what did she have to do with the old man’s death?

  “I could ask you the same,” she replied, eyes narrowed and finger poised above the sprayer on the can.

  “I’m Joshua West and I was just on my way home and decided to stop and say hello to Charlie.”

  Relief filled her amber-colored eyes and she lowered the can. “I heard they were expecting you either today or tomorrow.”

  “You didn’t answer my questions. Who are you and what in the hell is going on here?” Anger swept through him, much more agreeable than the grief that clawed at his insides as he thought of Charlie.

  The relief that had shone from her eyes was short-lived. A frown tugged her thin eyebrows closer together. “My name is Savannah Clarion and I don’t know what the hell is going on. I got here about two minutes before you did, just long enough to go inside and find…” She bit her bottom lip as tears welled up.

  The anger that had momentarily reared to life dissipated. “Why are you here? Charlie isn’t…wasn’t exactly the type who liked to entertain guests.” And he couldn’t imagine that a young woman like her would have an interest in visiting with the old man.

  “I was going to interview him. I write a column for the Cotter Creek Chronicle called ‘People and Personalities.’” Tears spilled onto her cheeks. “Why would he do something like this? I can’t believe it.”

  Joshua raked a hand through his thick, dark hair and frowned. “I just spoke with him two days ago. He seemed fine, his usual self.” Judd nuzzled Joshua’s hand, seeking a reassuring pat on the head.

  “What’s going to happen to Judd and Jessie?” Savannah asked. “Who’s going to take care of them?”

  “I’ll take them with me. They’ll be well taken care of at Dad’s.”

  “I don’t understand this.” She wrapped her arms around herself, as if chilled to the bone. “Seems like a drastic way to get out of an interview.” She gulped in a deep breath.

  He wondered if she was about to get hysterical on him. The last thing he wanted was a hysterical woman on his hands. He shoved his hands in his slacks pockets as he heard the wail of a siren in the distance.

  The joyous homecoming he’d expected had transformed into something horrible, and he knew the full realization that Charlie was dead hadn’t even struck him yet. What he couldn’t yet comprehend was the fact that Charlie hadn’t died in his sleep or suffered a heart attack, but, instead, from all indications Charlie had eaten the business end of his gun.

  He said no more to Savannah as the sheriff’s car pulled onto Charlie’s property. Things have changed, he thought as he watched Sheriff Jim Ramsey lumber out of his car. The sheriff had put on a bit of weight in the year and a half that Joshua had been gone. His hair was more salt than pepper, and as his gaze fell on Savannah an expression of annoyance flashed on his features. What was that about?

  The West family and Sheriff Ramsey had always shared a precarious tolerance for one another. A tolerance that often threatened to dissolve whenever the sheriff felt that the West work stepped on his toes.

  Ramsey nodded to Savannah, then walked past her. “Joshua,” he greeted with a touch of surprise. “Heard you were expected back here. Hell of a welcome home. Want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “I was on my way into town and decided to stop and say hello to Charlie. I stepped up on the porch as Ms. Clarion came crashing out the door. I went inside to see Charlie. It looks like he shot himself.”

  “I came out here to interview him for my column,” Savannah said and stepped closer to the two men. “Something isn’t right here. Charlie was excited about being interviewed. He would have never done something like this. I want a full investigation into his death.”

  Ramsey sighed audibly. “I’m going inside. I’ve already put in a call to Burke McReynolds.”

  “Burke McReynolds?” Joshua didn’t know the name.

  “You haven’t met him. We hired him on a month ago as a part-time medical examiner. If I have any more questions for the two of you, I know where to find you both. There’s no reason for you to hang around here.”

  It was an obvious dismissal, and Joshua was more than ready to leave this place of death. There was nothing he could do for Charlie, and more than anything he was eager to get home to his family.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Savannah replied. Although her eyes still shone with tears, she raised her chin and looked at the sheriff defiantly. “I have a responsibility to my readers, a responsibility to Charlie.”

  The annoyance that had flashed momentarily across Ramsey’s features appeared again. “Savannah, you write a gossip column and there’s nothing you can do for Charlie. Now you go on and get out of here. We don’t need you in the way as we go about our business.”

  If her face had lacked color before, it didn’t now. A flush of red swept up her slender neck and took over her face, nearly matching the bright red of her hair.

  “There’s something rotten in this town, Sheriff Ramsey, and I’m not going to quit until I figure out what it is.” She stomped to her car and got inside.

  “What was that all about?” Joshua asked Ramsey as she pealed out and took off down the road.

  “Who knows. Just spare me from Lois Lane wannabes.” Jim sighed again. “I got work to do.” As he headed for Charlie’s front door, Joshua loaded Jessie and Judd into the backseat of his car, then got in behind the steering wheel.

  As Ramsey disappeared into the house, Joshua thought of Savannah Clarion’s parting words. “Something was rotten in Cotter Creek.”

  What was she talking about? What in the hell had happened in his town in the time that he’d been gone?

  Chapter 2

  Savannah awakened with grief pressing thickly against her chest. The early-morning October sunshine drifted through the frilly lace curtains in her bedroom, and all she wanted to do was pull the pillow over her head and forget what had happened the day before.

  Charlie was dead. The thought hit her in the stomach with the force of a blow. Other than Meredith and her landlady, Winnie, Charlie had been the only friend she’d made since coming to town. And now he was gone, dead in a way that made no sense whatsoever.

  She’d never again see that slow, easy grin of his, never hear his acerbic sense of humor or match her wits against his in a game of chess.

  “Charlie,” she whispered, her voice nothing more than a hollow echo of itself.

  She wanted to weep, but she’d spent most of her tears the night before. Besides, crying didn’t change anything and neither did covering her face with a pillow and hiding in bed all day. She owed Charlie more than tears, more than denial.

  She was a reporter, and even though her published work so far was nothing more than a couple of gossip columns and fluff pieces, as Sheriff Ramsey had characterized them, it was time she became an investigative reporter and found out the truth about what had happened to Charlie. She owed the old man that much.

  Galvanized with a new determination, she showered, then dressed in a pair of black pencil-thin slacks and a lightweight lavender sweater. Even though it was only the first week of October, the weather had been unusually cool.

  The scent of bacon and freshly brewed coffee greeted her as she stepped out of her room and headed downstairs. No matter what time Savannah got up in the morning, her elderly landlady was always up before her.

  Winnie sat at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in front of her. She smiled a greeting as Savannah entered the kitchen. “Coffee’s on and the bacon is fried. All you need to tell me is how many eggs you want.”

  “None. I’m not hungry this morning.” Savannah went to the cabinet that held the coffee m
ugs, then poured herself a cup of the brew and joined Winnie at the table.

  She suspected the old woman hadn’t rented the upstairs of her house to Savannah because she needed the money but rather because she wanted companionship and somebody to cook for. Winnie’s husband had died three years before, and it was obvious she was lonely.

  “How did you sleep?” Winnie asked, the wrinkles in her forehead deepening in concern. When Savannah had come home from Charlie’s place the day before she’d told Winnie what had happened.

  Savannah wrapped her hands around the warm coffee mug in an attempt to fight off a chill. “Terrible.” She suddenly remembered the nightmares that had plagued her all night, visions of blood and death and poor Charlie.

  Winnie shook her head. “I just don’t understand it. I don’t understand how anyone becomes so desperate they commit suicide.” She paused a moment to take a sip of her coffee. “Why, I saw Charlie yesterday at the grocery store and he seemed just fine.”

  Savannah stared at Winnie. “You saw Charlie at the grocery store? What time?”

  “I don’t know, it must have been around noon. We met in the ice cream section and he told me how much he loves butter pecan and I told him I was quite partial to plain old chocolate.”

  “Did he buy ice cream?”

  Winnie frowned. “I saw him get a gallon out of the freezer, but I didn’t see him when he left the store.”

  Savannah took a sip of her coffee, her brain burning up as it worked overtime. She knew how much Charlie had loved his butter pecan ice cream. Many evenings she’d shared a bowl with him as they had played a game of chess.

  Did a man who planned to commit suicide buy groceries? Did a man who intended to take his own life buy a gallon of ice cream?

  All through the night her gut instinct had told her that Charlie didn’t commit suicide, and the fact that the old man had bought ice cream an hour or so before his death only deepened her gut instinct.

  Winnie eyed her over the rim of her coffee cup. Despite being seventy-two years old, Winnie was still a sharp tack. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Savannah?”

  “I just don’t believe that Charlie committed suicide. Aside from the fact that he bought ice cream a short time before his death, I know Charlie would have never done something like that, knowing I was coming to his house. He would have never wanted me to find him like that.”

  “Then what do you think happened?”

  “I think Charlie was murdered. He was murdered and somebody made it look like a suicide and I intend to prove it.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  Savannah frowned thoughtfully. “I’m not sure. One of the first things I need to do is talk to Sheriff Ramsey.” She took a sip of her coffee, then shook her head. “There’s been too many deaths around here lately.” Strange falls off tractors and from haylofts, a gas heater explosion and other odd deaths. The citizens of Cotter Creek were either unusually unlucky or something more frightening was going on.

  She suddenly thought of the handsome hunk she’d literally bumped into on Charlie’s porch the night before. “What do you know about Joshua West?”

  A smile curved Winnie’s lips. “Before he left town I think every rancher in the area was locking up their daughters for safekeeping. He’s a charmer, spoiled as a dozen eggs left out in the sun too long, but like all those West boys he’s got a good heart.”

  Savannah didn’t care if he was a charmer, or spoiled or had a good heart. His attraction as far as she was concerned was that he was a local who had been out of town for a while and might have some objectivity that could work to her advantage.

  But, more importantly, she knew the West name carried weight in Cotter Creek and the sheriff would give more credence to Joshua than he ever would to her. She had a feeling if she wanted people to take her seriously about Charlie’s death, then it wouldn’t hurt to have Joshua West on her side.

  “Are you sure you don’t want something for breakfast?” Winnie asked. “You know a good breakfast is always the way to start a good day.”

  Savannah laughed. “My mother believed a protein shake and an hour on a StairMaster was the way to start each day.”

  “That’s what happens to people when they got more money than sense,” Winnie scoffed. “A couple of eggs?”

  Savannah relented and nodded her head. She suspected Winnie didn’t care so much about what she ate but wasn’t quite ready for Savannah to fly out the door and leave her alone for the day.

  It was after nine when Savannah left the house, her stomach full and a renewed burn of determination in her soul. Her first stop was at the sheriff’s office, where she was disappointed to learn that Sheriff Ramsey wasn’t in.

  She left the office, got into her car and headed for the West ranch. She hoped she could enlist Joshua West’s help in demanding a full investigation into Charlie’s death. Charlie deserved at least that much, and, as far as Savannah was concerned, Sheriff Ramsey hadn’t been too diligent in following up on other deaths in the small town.

  The West ranch was a sprawl of pasture surrounding a huge rambling home with a long wooden porch that was perfect for sitting and watching the sunset in the evenings. On more than one occasion in the last couple of months she and Meredith had sat on the porch, talking while the sun went down.

  Savannah had always found friendships difficult. From the time she was young her mother had chosen her friends. They had to be beautiful, stylish and from privileged backgrounds. Savannah had never fit in and had found it difficult to trust females so different than her.

  But Meredith West was another story. She certainly came from a family who had tons of money, but she suffered no airs, didn’t judge people by their clothes or their looks. She was refreshingly normal after Savannah’s years of being surrounded by superficiality.

  It was Meredith who answered Savannah’s knock. As usual the tall brunette was clad in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Her long dark hair was in a careless ponytail. “Savannah.” She opened the screen door, stepped out on the porch and drew Savannah into the warmth of an embrace. “I heard about Charlie. I’m so sorry.”

  A wave of grief swept over Savannah, but she shoved it aside. She had no time for grief. She was on a mission. “Thanks, I still can’t believe it myself.”

  “I was going to call you this morning to see how you were doing.”

  “I’m doing okay. Actually, I’m here to see your brother.”

  Meredith frowned. “My brother? Which one?”

  “Joshua. Is he home?”

  “He’s here, but he’s out riding at the moment. Come on in. He should be back before too long.” Meredith ushered her into the house and toward the kitchen.

  Smokey Johnson, the West cook and the man who had helped raise the West children when their mother had been murdered, scowled as the two women entered the room he considered his exclusive domain.

  “You be nice, Smokey,” Meredith exclaimed. “Savannah is quite fragile this morning.”

  The old man snorted. “Red-haired girls aren’t fragile. They’re tough as nails, got to be to get through all the teasing they take when they’re young.”

  Savannah was accustomed to Smokey, who was a cliché of a tough old coot with a heart of gold. “I’m not feeling fragile this morning. I’m feeling more than a little pissed off because I think somebody killed my friend and made it look like a suicide.”

  Smokey pointed a gnarled finger toward a chair at the table. “What are you talking about? According to what Joshua told us when he got home last night it was an open-and-shut case of suicide.”

  Meredith gazed at Savannah sympathetically. “Everyone knew how much Charlie missed his wife since her death eight years ago. Maybe he just got tired of waiting to join her in the hereafter.”

  Savannah shook her head vehemently. “After eight years? Give me a break. Sure, Charlie missed Rebecca and he was looking forward to the time when they would be together again, but he also believed that
everyone went when it was time for them to go. After eight years of being alone why would he suddenly decide to end it all?”

  Before anyone could reply, the back door opened and Joshua stepped into the kitchen. He stopped short at the sight of her and frowned. “What in the hell are you doing here?”

  “Joshua!” Meredith shot her brother a dirty look. “Where are your manners?”

  “I lost them when she kicked me in the shin hard enough to half cripple me yesterday.”

  Warmth swept up Savannah’s neck as she remembered the kick she’d delivered to him. “I thought you’d killed Charlie.”

  She’d recognized in the brief time she’d seen him the day before that he was handsome, but his attractiveness today hit her like a kick from a horse.

  She hadn’t noticed yesterday just how thick and shiny his dark hair was, or the amazing green of his eyes. She hadn’t paid attention to his raw masculinity that today screamed from him.

  Clad in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved knit shirt that pulled tautly across broad shoulders and a flat stomach, he was blatantly male and sexy as hell.

  Winnie had said he was a charmer, but there was nothing charming in the look he shot her. He looked irritated and tense and just a whisper away from dangerous.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’m heading to the shower,” he said.

  Savannah popped out of the chair. “Actually, I’m here to talk to you. Would it be possible for us to speak somewhere alone?”

  “I can’t imagine what we’d have to talk about.” He started out of the kitchen and with a glance of apology to Meredith and Smokey, Savannah followed Joshua.

  “Of course we have things to talk about,” she exclaimed, unable to help but notice that he had a perfect butt for jeans. “We were both at a crime scene. We should compare notes and see if we can help the investigation.”

  His long strides carried him down the hallway toward the master bathroom. “There’s no notes to compare. The investigation is over. I spoke to Ramsey early this morning, and according to him there’s no reason not to think it’s anything but a suicide.”