The Rancher Bodyguard

“And your roommate’s name?” Charlie asked.

Justin stepped back toward his apartment door. “Sam Young, and now I’m done answering your questions.” He stepped back inside and shut the door firmly in their faces.

“Do you believe him?” Grace asked when they were back in Charlie’s car and headed for the hospital.

He cast her a wry glance. “In the words of a famous television personality, I wouldn’t believe him if his tongue came notarized.”

Her burst of laughter was short-lived, but the sound of it momentarily warmed his heart. Charlie always loved to hear her laugh, and there had been a time when he’d been good at making her do so.

“After we speak with Hope, I need to find out if I can go to the house and get some of her things,” Grace said. “Dr. Dell thought he would release her at some point this evening or first thing in the morning, and we’ll need to get some of her clothes and things to take to my place.”

“When we get to the hospital, I’ll call Zack and see what can be arranged.”

“I’d like to talk to Hope alone. I don’t think she’ll be open about her relationship with Justin if you’re there, too.”

“Okay,” he replied. He glanced at her and caught her rubbing her temple. “Headache?”

She nodded and dropped her hand back into her lap. “I think it’s a guilt thing.”

“Guilt? What do you have to feel guilty about?” he asked in surprise.

A tiny frown danced across her forehead, doing nothing to detract from her attractiveness. “I should have been paying more attention to what was going on in her life. I should have been putting in less hours at the store and spending more time with her.”

“Regrets are funny things, Grace. They rip your heart out, but they don’t really change anything,” he replied. He was an old hand at entertaining regrets.

“You’re right.” She reached up, massaged her temple once again and then shot him a pointed look. “You’re absolutely right. The past is over and nothing can change the damage done. What’s important is to learn from the mistakes made in the past and never forget the lesson.”

Charlie frowned, knowing her words were barbs flung at him and had nothing to do with the situation at hand. They spoke no more until they arrived at the hospital.

As she disappeared into Hope’s hospital room, he called Zack West to find out what was going on at the Covington mansion. Zack informed him that the evidence gathering was finished and said Grace was free to get whatever she needed for Hope.

When Charlie asked him for an update, he merely replied that it was an ongoing investigation and there was nothing new to report.

As he waited for Grace, he sat in one of the plastic chairs in the waiting room. Charlie had a theory that murder happened for one of three reasons. He called it his “three R” theory. Rage, revenge and reward were the motives that drove most murderers.

At the moment, the officials were leaning toward rage—a young girl’s rage at being stymied in a love relationship by an overbearing father figure.

The news was certainly filled with stories of young people going on killing rampages against authority figures. Had Hope snapped that morning and stabbed William while he slept and then, filled with remorse, taken drugs in a suicide attempt?

Hopefully they would be successful in coming up with an alternative theory that would explain both William’s death and Hope’s drugged state.

He looked up as Grace entered the room. She sat next to him as if too exhausted to stand. “What did she have to say about Justin?” he asked.

“She told me she’s crazy in love with him, and she thinks they belong together forever, but she hasn’t gotten physical with him yet.”

“That’s different from Justin’s story. He made it sound like she was no big deal to him,” Charlie observed.

“Maybe he doesn’t feel the same way she does. Maybe he was afraid to tell us how he really feels about Hope,” she replied.

“Maybe,” Charlie agreed.

Grace reached up and tucked a strand of her shiny hair behind her ear. “She’s not being released today. She’s running a fever and Dr. Dell wants to get to the bottom of it.”

“You still want to go by the house?” She sat so close to him he could feel the heat from her body. He used to tease her about how she was better than a hot water bottle at keeping him warm on cold wintry nights. He wished he could tell her how he’d been cold ever since he’d lost her.

She nodded. “Whether she’s here or at my place, I’m sure she’d be more comfortable with some of her own things. Besides, I’d like to talk to Lana, William’s housekeeper. She’d know better than anyone what was going on between William and Hope, and if anyone else was having a problem with William.”

Grace jumped up from the chair, newfound energy vibrating from her. “We need to find something, Charlie, something that will point the finger of guilt away from Hope. I can’t lose her. She’s all I have left.”

She looked half frantic, and again a soft vulnerability sagged her shoulders and haunted her eyes. This time Charlie didn’t fight his impulse—his need to touch her. He reached out for her hand and took it in his. Hers was icy, as if the heat of her body was unable to warm her small, trembling hand.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said. “I promise you that we’ll get to the bottom of this. I won’t let Hope be convicted of a crime she didn’t commit.”

What he didn’t say was that if Hope was guilty, not even the great Charlie Black would be able to save her.

The Covington estate was located on the northern edge of town, a huge two-story structure with manicured grounds, several outbuildings and a small cottage in the back where Lana Racine and her husband, Leroy, lived.

As Charlie pulled into the circular drive and parked in front, Grace stared at the big house and felt the burgeoning grief welling up inside her.

The sight of the bright yellow crime-scene tape across the front door nearly made her lose control, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.

She’d spent her life being the strong one—the child her mother could depend on, the teenager who often took responsibility for her baby sister, and the woman who’d held it together when her mother deserted them.

Charlie didn’t know about her mother. When they’d been dating, she told him only that her mother had moved away, not that she’d just packed her bags and disappeared from their lives.

Without an explanation.

Without a word since.

Was she sunning on a beach in Florida? Eating crab cakes and lobster in Maine? Or was she out of the country? She’d always talked about wanting to go to France.

Grace welcomed the raw anger that took the place of her grief—it sustained her, kept her strong.

She glanced back at Charlie, wondering if she should tell him about what had been going on in her life when she’d met him. She dismissed the idea. She couldn’t stand the idea of seeing pity in his eyes, and after all this time, what difference did it make?

“Are you sure you’re ready to go in there?” Charlie asked.

She focused back on the house and nodded. “I’ll just get some of Hope’s things, then we can go talk with Lana and Leroy.”

She almost wished Charlie weren’t here with her. He’d stirred old feelings in her, made her remember how much she’d once cared about him. She’d thought her hatred of him would protect her from those old feelings—that it would vaccinate her against the “wanting Charlie” emotion. She’d been wrong.

All day she’d been plagued by memories of the taste of his lips on hers, the feel of his hands stroking the length of her. Their physical relationship had been nothing short of magic. He’d been an amazing lover, at times playful and at other times intense and demanding.

But it wasn’t just those kinds of memories that bothered her. Remembering how often they had laughed together and how much they’d enjoyed each other’s company had proved equally troubling.

Amnesia would have been welcome. She would have loved to permanently forget the six months with Charlie, but spending time with him now unlocked the mental box in which she’d placed those memories the night she’d walked away from him.

Focus on the reason he’s in your life, she told herself. Hope. She had to stay focused on Hope and finding something, anything, that would reveal the young girl’s innocence.