Cowboy's Legacy

Smiling, he climbed out. He loved this sort of small-town drama, especially when it involved the sheriff. It surprised him Flint wasn’t the one coming over here himself. Flint must be going crazy with worry. Why else would he let Mark be calling the shots?

He covered the butt of his gun with his hand as he walked toward the front door. There was no car parked in the drive. As he passed a window in the garage, he peered in. Empty. This was going to be a waste of time. No one was home.

Ringing the bell, he glanced around the neighborhood. It was a much nicer one than where he and Vicki lived. She’d talked him into moving in with her. Another mistake he’d made. She spent most of her time puking her guts out since getting pregnant. She never felt like doing it anymore. He worried this was what marriage was going to be like.

He rang the bell again and then knocked. Total waste of time.

At the sound of a car engine, he turned to see a large dark SUV pull in. Wayne Duma. Now, here was someone who thought a whole lot of himself, Harp thought. Hell, he’d bought himself and his wife matching SUVs for one of their wedding anniversaries. How full of himself was that?

Duma was frowning as he exited his vehicle. Clearly he didn’t like seeing a deputy on his doorstep. “Can I help you?” the man asked in the same tone he probably used with solicitors at his door. It only pissed Harp off more.

“I’m looking for Mrs. Duma.”

“She’s not here.”

“So I gathered. Can you tell me where she is?”

Wayne looked as if he was losing patience. Harp felt the same way. “What is this about?”

Harp didn’t answer. “I need to talk to her. Sheriff’s department business.”

“She’s left town.”

“When did she leave?”

“Earlier. I insist you tell me what this is about.”

“Where did she go?”

Duma looked as if he wanted to dig his heels in.

“Maggie Thompson is missing. I need to speak with your wife.”

The man groaned and looked away. “Not this foolishness again.” He turned back to Harp. “My wife has gone to a spa. If Maggie is missing, it has nothing to do with Celeste.”

“What spa?”

“I have no idea.”

“Was she driving there or flying?”

Duma shook his head. “I didn’t ask.”

“I’m going to need to have a look around. I’m sure we can get a warrant—”

“That isn’t necessary,” Duma said, stepping past him to unlock the door. “Help yourself.”

Harp stepped in and looked around. “Nice place you have here.” He walked through the house. It appeared a housekeeping service had been there recently. It had that smell. It did nothing to improve his mood since he’d never had a place that smelled this good.

“I’m going to take a look upstairs,” he told Duma, who didn’t bother to answer. He was on his phone. Harp listened as the man left a message for his wife to call him.

Upstairs, he stuck his head in each room. The place was immaculate. He couldn’t see Celeste down on her knees scrubbing the bathroom floor to make it shine like that—let alone to wipe up blood. Rich people, he thought with a sharp bite of jealousy.

He figured, as clean as the place was, it wouldn’t be hard to find blood evidence—if there had been any. But so far, he saw nothing to indicate that there had been anything going on there.

At the end of the hall, he pushed open the door into the master bedroom and felt his pulse shoot up. The room looked as if it had exploded. There were clothes everywhere, on the floor, on the bed, thrown on the closet floor.

He heard Duma behind him. The man gasped and then swore.

“Can you explain this?” Harp asked.

“Apparently Celeste had trouble deciding what to take to the spa.”

“Right. Don’t touch anything in this room.” He pulled out his phone. “The sheriff is going to want to talk to you.”

CHAPTER FOUR (#u609b1c04-8cd3-507d-a667-9ac14df12f1e)

AT THE SAME TIME her boyfriend was calling the sheriff, Vicki was doubling over in pain. She clutched the sink next to the toilet bowl. Ever since she’d lost the baby, she’d had terrible cramps at that time of the month. Keeping Harp off of her for the days she was flowing was hard enough. But the lying...

She told herself that she couldn’t keep this secret any longer from Deputy Harper Cole, the man she’d fallen in love with. Every day, she promised herself that she would tell Harp that she’d lost the baby. But when he came home, she just couldn’t bring herself to confess.

He’ll leave you the minute you tell him.

After all, it had been the only reason he’d moved in with her. She hadn’t told, thinking she would get pregnant again. But here was another month and no baby. The doctor had said she shouldn’t have any trouble getting pregnant again. She’d thought that if it happened soon enough, Harp would never have to know she’d lost the first baby. He never paid any attention to how many months had gone by.

He’d asked her once when she was going to start showing. “Guess you’ll be looking like you stole a basketball soon enough. Does that mean we aren’t going to be able to do it?”

She’d assured him that they could have sex—the one thing that seemed to make him happy—almost to the end. “But only if you are more gentle.”

That had cheered him up. Nothing else about living together had. True, she wasn’t much of a cook. Often she was bored and just watched television all day. She missed working at the café, but she couldn’t very well go back there without admitting that she’d had a miscarriage early on in her pregnancy.

What was she going to do? she thought as she doubled over again with a cramp. And how was she going to keep this from Harp? She couldn’t pretend to have the flu every month for five days. Even Harp would figure that out after a while.

She had to get pregnant again. Otherwise...

Vicki felt the pills she’d taken begin to work on her cramps. Without the pain, her thoughts cleared some. She considered what Harp had told her had happened the night that man had come looking for Mariah Ayers, now Cahill, and had almost killed both Mariah and Darby. Harp had admitted to her that he wasn’t the hero everyone thought he was. He’d lied and she was the only one he’d ever told about it.

Now with the sheriff’s girlfriend missing and him being put on leave, maybe Harp really did have a shot at becoming the next sheriff. But only if no one ever knew the truth about that night.

She placed a hand over her stomach. Maybe she didn’t need a baby to keep Harp after all.

* * *

“I CAN ASSURE you that Celeste had nothing to do with Maggie Thompson being missing,” Duma said from a chair in the interrogation room at the sheriff’s department thirty minutes later. He was a big man, distinguished, gray at the temples.

“How can you be so confident of that?” the undersheriff asked.

Flint watched through the glass window that acted as a mirror on the other side. Harp had stayed at the house to make sure nothing was disturbed until the state crime team arrived out of Billings. Flint desperately wanted to be the one questioning Duma.