Snowbound Suspicion. Cindi Myers
going to deny it, either.
He blinked. Clearly, he hadn’t expected that one. She waited, then he asked the question she had known would come next. “What were you doing in prison?” he asked.
“Ten years for robbing the bank where I worked as a teller,” she said. “Though I was paroled early because I was such a model prisoner.”
His eyes narrowed. “So you admit you’re guilty.”
“Oh, yes. There were five of us—four of us were caught. I was the person on the inside. It was the stupidest thing I ever did and I don’t intend to so much as jaywalk from here on out.”
“You robbed a bank,” he repeated.
“The man I was living with at the time was the one who waved a gun around and demanded the money—I only silenced the alarm and let him out the back door. That made me just as guilty, of course.”
“Why did you do it?”
“Because I was stupid. Over a man.” She stood. “That’s a mistake I won’t make again, either.”
“Does Travis know about this?”
“Of course he does. And his parents. I wouldn’t ask them to invite me into their home without being honest about my past. I appreciate the chance they’re giving me to start over. Their trust really means a lot.”
He rose also and stood looming over her—still sexy, but also menacing. She had to force herself to stand firm and not shrink under his cold gaze. “I hope their trust isn’t misplaced,” he said.
“It isn’t,” she said, licking her suddenly dry lips.
The lines around his eyes tightened. “Just know, I’m going to be keeping an eye on you,” he said.
Delivered in another tone of voice, the words might have been a sexy come-on. But Bette heard only warning behind the words—the words of a cop to a suspect. Though she had achieved her goal of putting emotional distance between herself and Cody, her success left a heaviness in her heart. She supposed part of her had hoped Cody Rankin would be different—able to forgive, even if he couldn’t forget.
* * *
CODY LAY AWAKE for several hours that night, trying to make sense of that paint can and brush under the sink in the bathroom of Bette’s cabin. Surely she would have mentioned finding them there when she pulled out the cleaner and towels to clean the paint off the door.
But she wouldn’t have mentioned them if she had known all along the paint was there—known because she had put it there herself, and used it to paint that message. But why? So that he would see it and feel protective?
No—that wasn’t her game. She definitely didn’t like him hovering too close. And she hadn’t put the message there in order to make a fuss with the Walkers—she had refused to mention the incident, and had made him promise not to, either.
But he couldn’t assume her motives were those of most law-abiding people, he reminded himself. She had a record. She had admitted to the bank robbery with scarcely a trace of shame. Oh, she had made all the right noises about having learned her lesson and intending to go straight, but how many times had he heard that kind of talk before? Just because she had big blue eyes and a sweet, sincere manner—and a body that made it difficult for him to think straight—didn’t mean they shouldn’t all be on their guard around her. If she was concocting some scam to cheat his friend or his friend’s family, she was going to have Cody to deal with—and he’d make sure her punishment was swift and sure.
On this disturbing thought, he fell asleep, and woke at dawn, stiff and sore. After a hot shower, he walked up to the ranch house, thankful that he didn’t run into Bette. He found Travis alone in the dining room, eating breakfast. “Where is everyone?” Cody asked, helping himself to coffee from a pot on the sideboard.
“We’re the early birds,” Travis said.
Cody sat, moving gingerly still.
“What’s up with you?” Travis asked. “You take a fall or something yesterday?”
“Something like that.” Cody changed the subject. “What do you know about your caterer, Bette Fuller?” he asked.
Travis frowned. “Why do you ask?”
“She told me she and Lacy were cellmates—that she served time for bank robbery. She admitted it outright.”
“Lacy says she was led astray by her boyfriend, a longtime felon named Edward Rialto.”
“Do you believe that?”
“It happens.” Travis spread jam on a slice of toast. “And I did check on her—she didn’t have so much as a traffic ticket before the robbery.”
“She said they caught all but one of the people involved in the robbery,” Cody said.
“That’s right. The getaway driver evaded capture,” Travis said. “Apparently, the car he was driving struck and killed a pedestrian while the gang was fleeing from the bank. He’s wanted for vehicular manslaughter as well as bank robbery. The others refused to identify him.”
“Including Bette?” Continued loyalty to her “gang” didn’t sound good to him.
“She said she had only seen him once, for a few minutes, that they hadn’t been introduced and she couldn’t identify him.”
“Convenient.” Cody scooped up a forkful of eggs. “I know I don’t have to tell you to be careful, but I’m going to play the role of concerned friend and tell you anyway.”
Travis set down his coffee cup and studied Cody. “What’s wrong? Has Bette done something, or said something, that’s disturbed you?”
Cody thought about mentioning the can of paint and the message on Bette’s door, then thought better of it. He had no real proof Bette had put the message there herself, and no motive for her to have done so. Right now, Travis and his parents had accepted having a convicted felon catering the wedding. Cody had no grounds for upsetting them. “No, I just wanted to know more about her. What are you up to this morning?” he asked.
“I’m going to stay here this morning, catching up on paperwork. Gage texted me late last night—he and Dwight made it back to town about two in the morning. I’ve got two other deputies on duty, and I’ll go into the office about noon.”
“Do you have other suspects for the murders?”
“Not really.” Travis pushed back his empty plate and held his coffee mug in both hands. “There are a few possibilities, but no one who lines up for everyone. The only connection the women have is that they were all in their twenties or thirties, and they all lived here in Eagle Mountain.” He pushed back his chair. “There’s still a lot to sift through. We’ll find him.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“Sure. What are your plans for the day?”
“I thought I’d go ice fishing, over on Lake Spooner.”
“Sounds good. If you catch enough, maybe we can have a fish fry. There’s a bunch of fishing gear in the tack room, if you want to borrow any. I think there’s even an ice auger in there.” He pushed back his chair. “I’d better get to work. Talk to you later.”
* * *
AT BREAKFAST HER first morning at the ranch, Bette waited anxiously for Cody to appear. Not that she was looking forward to seeing him again after their tense parting the night before, but since he was the only person who knew about the message that had been painted on the door of her cabin, he was the only one she could confide in now.
This morning, while getting ready for a shower, she had retrieved a towel and washcloth from beneath the bathroom sink and been startled to discover a paintbrush and a can of red paint. She had even cried out, as if she had encountered