The Missing Mccullen. Rita Herron
and two chairs. Cash’s expression was grim as he sank into the chair. Handcuffs clanged as he spread his fingers on the table. Calluses and scars marked his hands and arms, a telltale sign that he did manual labor.
The sheriff cleared his throat. “You want me to stay?”
BJ shook her head. She couldn’t show fear or any emotion. “No, I’m fine.”
Jasper worked his mouth from side to side, one hand on his holster. “Yell if you need me.” He squeezed Cash’s shoulder so hard the prisoner’s jaw tightened. “Touch her and you’ll be sorry.”
A frisson of nerves prickled BJ’s spine as the sheriff left the room and Cash turned his rage toward her.
A jagged scar curled beneath his hairline on the right side, making him look frightening and sexy at the same time. She envisioned him riding a bull or galloping across rugged terrain, and her heart stuttered.
She gripped the edge of the table, silently cursing herself. She could not allow herself to think of him as attractive.
“All right, lady,” he said gruffly. “What are you doing here?”
BJ forced herself to remember that he had no clue he was a McCullen. She’d expected the McCullen men would want to meet him, but they’d had trouble with a half brother named Bobby, and were cautious.
After all, Horseshoe Creek Ranch belonged to all of Joe McCullen’s sons, which meant that Maddox, Brett and Ray would have to share land with the lost twins.
They intended to find the truth about Cash’s character before they disclosed their relationship.
“I came to decide if I want to represent you,” BJ said. “To do that, I need to hear your version of what happened the night Sondra Elmore died.”
He arched a thick brow. “Why? You gonna believe me?”
BJ leaned forward, snagging his gaze with a cold look. “Sarcasm is not your friend right now, Mr. Koker. The truth might be, though, if you want to tell it.”
Shoulders squared, she gathered the file, ready to leave. The last thing she intended to do was work for some ungrateful jerk who didn’t want her help. “If not, I’ll leave you alone and you can rot in that cell.”
BJ folded her arms across her chest. “You have ten seconds to decide how this will go before I walk out that door.”
Anger flashed across Cash’s face, along with distrust—and the realization that he did need help. That he might have to suck it up if he wanted to fight these charges.
“Just sit down,” he growled.
BJ shook her head. “I don’t take orders from you, Mr. Koker. If I accept your case, I expect respect. But first, you have to convince me that you’re innocent.”
Tension rippled between them. He shifted and stared at his fingers again, obviously torn. Or was he trying to concoct a convincing lie?
“All right, Miss Alexander,” he said. “Please sit back down.”
A tiny smile of victory twitched at her mouth, but she masked it, maintaining her neutral expression. He had said please, though, so she slipped into the chair facing him.
“Now tell me—has Tyler been found? Is he okay?”
“I’m afraid there hasn’t been any word on the boy,” she said quietly.
Cash pressed his knuckles over his eyes. “You have to find him.”
“Do you know where he is?” she asked in a tight voice.
“No.” His gaze met hers, suspicion flaring. “Are you working for Elmore?”
BJ frowned. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because Lester Elmore never thought I was good enough for his daughter.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Did he pay you to get dirt on me so he could railroad me to prison for killing his daughter?”
BJ locked stubborn gazes with him. “For the record, I’ve never met the man, and he didn’t pay me to do anything.” She let that sentence sink in for a brief second. “In fact, I can’t be bought by anyone, so even if he had offered, I would have turned him down.”
“Really?” Koker’s mouth curled in a sardonic grin. “You mean I’m looking at a real-life honest lawyer?”
She gave him a flat look. “Believe it or not, yes.”
She removed photos of the crime scene and spread them across the table. Cash zeroed in on a shot of Sondra Elmore drenched in blood, and his face paled.
“Did you kill Sondra?” BJ asked.
A tortured look darkened his eyes. “No.”
BJ waited, hoping he’d elaborate, but he didn’t.
She tapped a picture of a bloody hunting knife the sheriff had found at the scene. “This isn’t your knife?”
Cash cursed. “Yes, it is, but I didn’t kill Sondra with it.”
“Then why was it lying on the floor beside her?”
“I have no idea.” He leaned his head on his hands and inhaled several deep breaths. “Think about it. If I had killed her, you think I’d be dumb enough to leave a weapon behind with my fingerprints on it?”
No. But she had to ask.
Still, this man was a stranger to her. She wasn’t certain she could trust her instincts, either, not after the mess she’d made with Davis.
* * *
THE PICTURE OF Sondra covered in blood made Cash’s stomach roil.
The lawyer cleared her throat. “You knew Sondra well, didn’t you, Cash? You were friendly?”
He gave her a scathing look. “We were friends. Period.”
“According to the sheriff’s notes and his interview with Mr. Elmore, you were more than that.”
Cash shook his head. “Not true.”
“You weren’t lovers?” she asked bluntly.
Cash shifted. “I answered that already. We were just friends.”
“They why did her father think you two were involved?”
He made a low sound in his throat. “Sondra may have implied that we were.”
The lawyer tapped her manicured nails on the table. A reminder that his were ragged and had been bloodstained, that the cops had forensics that would work against him.
Even though he’d washed them, in his mind’s eye, he could still see Sondra’s blood.
“I see,” she said wryly. “And you allowed her father to believe a lie?”
“I didn’t like it. I told her that.” Cash shrugged. “But I didn’t dispute it.”
“You two argued about the issue?”
“Not really. She begged me not to say anything and I agreed.”
Cash rolled his fingers into fists. If he admitted that he and Sondra had argued the afternoon she died, he’d give this lawyer a motive.
“Why did Sondra allow her father to believe you were the boy’s father? And why would you let her do that?”
“Elmore’s a paranoid jerk who warned all of his employees, including me, to keep their hands off of his daughter. He wanted to keep her in some kind of bubble, but she was rebellious.”
The woman raised a brow. “Rebellious as in she dated the hands to make him angry?”
“Sometimes.”