Cowboy Alibi

“You didn’t have to.” She knuckled away her tears, a childlike gesture that made Joe’s chest tighten. “You think I killed your brother. What’s one more murder?”

He didn’t answer, though his gut churned with the need to tell her exactly what he thought of her, what he’d been thinking of her for months as he chased hundreds of dead ends searching for Sandra Dorsey.

“Too bad it messes up your plans to haul me back to Wyoming, right?” A thread of steel hardened her voice as she pushed herself up from the cot and stood to face him. “Were you even going to take me back there? Or were you going to mete out a little frontier justice?”

“I’m not the criminal,” he answered tightly, angry at her for even suggesting he’d do such a thing. She knew him better than that.

Or she had. Hell, what if she really wasn’t faking the memory loss?

A door opened behind him, dragging his attention away from Jane’s hard gaze. Chief Hank Trent entered, a uniformed officer on his heels. He gestured with his head to Joe. “Let’s talk.”

While Trent pulled Joe to one side, the officer unlocked the holding cell.

“What’s going on?” Joe asked.

“We’ve found a corroborating witness to Ms. Doe’s account. I’ll explain everything.”

“A corroborating witness?” Joe watched Jane exit the holding cell. She met his gaze, her expression tinged with an odd mixture of relief and fear.

“A neighbor saw a man matching the description Ms. Doe gave us. He exited the apartment building by the fire escape,” Trent said. “Becker, take Ms. Doe to room three. I need to speak with her further before she’s released.”

Joe waited until Becker and Jane were out of the room before turning to glare at Hank Trent. “Released?”

“I don’t have grounds to hold her.”

“Then release her to my custody and I’ll take her back to Wyoming on the murder charge.”

“There’s no murder charge yet. You said that yourself.”

“So she just walks around Trinity, scot-free, while two people are dead?”

“She didn’t kill Angela Carlyle.”

“She killed Thomas Blake.”

“You suspect she did.”

“She had the means and the opportunity. And she ran off the day he died.”

“What about motive?”

“I don’t have to prove motive.”

“And I don’t have to turn her over to you.” Trent’s hard expression softened. “Look, I’m not playing hardball here just to yank your chain. I need her to stick around because she’s our best witness in this town’s first murder in decades. But I can’t keep you from talking to her while you’re both here in town.”

“You’re assuming she’ll stick around just because you tell her to.”

Trent smiled. “Well, I’ve arranged a little something for Ms. Doe that just might interest you.”

“THE BUENA VISTA HOTEL?” Jane stared at Hank Trent as if he were crazy. She glared at Joe. “This is your idea, isn’t it?”

Joe shook his head. “You’re a murder witness and the perpetrator is still at large. You need protection, and the Trinity police know the Buena Vista Hotel has the best security in town.”

Jane shook her head, thinking how easily she’d talked her way into Joe Garrison’s room earlier that day. “That’s not saying much.”

Trent made an exaggerated huffing sound.

“Chief Trent has arranged for your room to be next to mine,” Joe said softly, drawing her gaze. His cool gray eyes held hers, full of challenge.

“I just bet he did,” she muttered.

“We don’t have officers to spare, with a murderer at large,” Chief Trent said, his tone annoyingly reasonable. “Chief Garrison was kind enough to offer his services as your security guard. You won’t get a better offer.”

Jane tugged at the neck of her T-shirt. “What’s keeping me from packing my bags and getting the hell out of this town? If I’m not under arrest.”

“We can hold you for twenty-four hours without charging you with anything, you know.” Trent’s voice hardened. “I’d prefer that you cooperate voluntarily.”

“I’ve told you all I know.”

“Then consider this,” Joe interjected, pulling up the chair across the table from her. He turned it around and straddled it, resting his arms across the rounded back and pinning her with his hard gaze. “There’s a guy running around out there who didn’t think twice about slitting your friend’s throat because she got in his way. And from what you tell us, he wants you. Do you really want to be out there on your own right now?”

Jane looked down at the scuffed table, running her finger over a nick as she tamped down a flood of fear at his words. “No.”

“Then the Buena Vista it is.” Trent slapped his hand on the table, sealing the deal.

Jane bit her lower lip, her insides twisting into a painful knot. She felt trapped, shackled by the iron will of the lawmen and by her own blank memory.

“I’ll make the arrangements.” Trent rose and headed out of the interrogation room, leaving Jane alone with Joe Garrison. Joe gazed at her over his folded arms, clearly content to let her squirm beneath his scrutiny.

“Do you usually get your way?” She couldn’t keep a thread of bitterness out of her voice.

“No,” he answered.

“I don’t believe that.”

“If I always got my way, my brother wouldn’t be dead and I wouldn’t be here in Trinity babysitting the last person to see him alive.”

“Who was I to your brother?” she asked, fearing the answer.

Joe dropped his gaze for the first time, focusing on the nicked wood tabletop. “You worked for him.”

“Doing what?”

He looked up sharply at her wary tone. “You kept his house for him. Helped him with the business end of the ranch. Odd jobs—whatever he needed done.”

She took a deep breath and asked the question she dreaded most. “Were he and I…”

Joe shook his head. “No. He was a recent widower. Not over his wife’s death yet. You were…friends.”