“No, they sold out a few years ago,” she admitted.
“What about Weston? Would he have told anybody about me?”
She glanced away. “I don’t think he knew. I never told him and he never mentioned it.”
“So it’s unlikely anyone remembered.”
“Small towns have long memories, especially this one. And at least one person in town clearly knows.”
“Somebody who probably wanted to help you. Why else would they send me that article?”
“To cause trouble for me? Like I said, it could look bad having you here. Not to mention, how could they know you would come here to help me if they sent you a newspaper article?”
“Guess the only way to find out what that person’s motives are is to find out who it is. Another reason for me to stick around.”
She eyed him doubtfully, unable to shake the notion that this was a bad idea. The idea of having him here, so close at hand. Yes, she could use the help, if that was what he was truly here for. If the incident with her tires was any indication, it might be a good thing to have someone nearby.
But having this particular man, with his inexplicable motives and dark, compelling eyes, so close suddenly seemed infinitely more dangerous.
He met her gaze seriously. “Look, if you don’t want me staying here, that’s your call. This is your place. I can’t force myself on you or your property. I can try to find somewhere in town to stay. But I’m not going anywhere until I have some answers. I want to know who sent me that article—and yes, why.”
Elena felt her resistance—and most likely, her common sense—weakening. Yes, it could be a bad idea to have him here. No, she didn’t understand what he was doing here, or why he would want to help her. But she believed he wanted answers, and with the rest of the town seemingly having already made up their minds, that gave them a common goal. Perhaps that was reason enough to keep him close, despite all the reasons she wasn’t sure she should.
“All right,” she said softly. “You can stay.”
If he wondered why she’d caved, he didn’t show it, simply nodding once. “Good. I was thinking we should go back into town and get your truck.”
Elena automatically frowned at the suggestion. She was in no hurry to go back into Western Bluff after her last visit, especially so soon. But as she considered the idea, she realized he was right. They shouldn’t leave her truck sitting on Main Street. God only knew what someone might do to it in the middle of the night, or if it would even be there the next day. Even if it were, she wouldn’t put it past Walt or Travis to give her a parking ticket or trump up some other infraction just to cause her trouble.
“We’ll need to change the tires,” she noted.
“Do you have any spares?”
“There’s one in the truck bed, and a few others in the barn.”
He nodded. “Great. I’ll load a couple in my truck and we can go.”
“I’ll show you where they are in the barn.”
He automatically turned and headed in that direction. Elena waited a few seconds before following, watching him walk away with that same strange sense of unreality washing over her again. Her whole world seemed to have been upended again in a mere hour. It didn’t seem possible that this was happening, yet evidently it was.
Matt Alvarez was back in her life, as suddenly as he’d once left it.
And it seemed, for the moment at least, this time he intended to stay.
Chapter Four
“Tell me about the sheriff,” Matt said as they headed back into town.
Elena glanced over at him from the passenger’s seat, grateful he’d raised the subject—any subject. Anything to distract her from her still unsteady emotions, and his closeness in the truck’s cab. “All right. What do you want to know?”
He kept his eyes on the road, his profile hard as stone. “Is he good at his job?”
Elena considered the question. “I’ve always figured he was. Walt’s been the sheriff for, I’d say, at least six years now, and he was a deputy for years before that.”
“So there’s a chance he might remember me from back then.”
Elena frowned at the memory. “There’s a chance,” she agreed.
“We can worry about that when we need to. Ever had any trouble with him before?”
“None. I didn’t have that much direct interaction with him, and when I did, he was always nice enough to me. When I was a teenager, there were a few times when he brought my father home, and he was always nice about it.” Too nice, she thought with a trace of irritation. The kind of niceness that was really just pity. Far too many people had looked at her like that back then, if they’d acknowledged her existence at all.
Poor girl. Mother took off. Father’s a drunk.
Of course, that was a lot better than the way people were looking at her now, she thought, as a grim smile touched her lips. She’d never imagined a day when being Ed Reyes’s outcast daughter would seem like a step up to her. Or maybe that was the natural progression of things in some way. She’d turned out to be the bad seed her disreputable beginning had always made them think she’d be.
“So there’s no reason to believe this is personal for him and he’s not just trying to do his job.”
“Not for him, no.”
“But for someone else?” he concluded. “The deputy?”
“Travis is—
was,
” she corrected with a wince, “Bobby’s best friend. Was ever since they were little kids.”
“No wonder he’s gunning for you, if he thinks you killed him.”
“It probably doesn’t help that he never liked me to begin with.”
“Why not?”
“He didn’t think I was good enough for Bobby. But then, most people didn’t. After all, he was a Weston. His great-great-grandfather was one of the founders of this town and Bobby’s family was practically royalty around here. People used to say the town should have been called ‘Weston’s Bluff.’ He was golden in this town. He could have had any girl he wanted.”
“And he wanted you.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment. “Yes,” she said, her tone distant. “He did. In the beginning, at least.”
As soon as she’d said the last words, she wished she could take them back. There was too much she didn’t want to get into, things she didn’t want to explain.
But if he wondered what had changed, he didn’t ask. Maybe he didn’t want to know any more than she wanted to get into it. A tiny bit of relief pierced her uneasiness.
“Did you ever think there might be another reason one of them is so determined to pin the murder on you?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“What if one of them is the killer?”
The idea was so absurd she nearly laughed. “Neither of them have motives.”
“That you know of. You said nobody had a motive to kill your husband, but clearly somebody must have. After all, if you didn’t kill him, somebody did, and there had to have been a reason. You just don’t know what it is.”
He was right, of course. She’d spent more than one sleepless night wondering who had killed Bobby—and why. The first answer depended on the second, but she hadn’t had any luck answering either one, hadn’t even come up with any remote possibilities. Rather than find a solution to her situation, her efforts had merely confirmed how dire it was.
She tried to wrap her mind around the idea of Walt or Travis killing Bobby in cold blood. It just didn’t make sense, and not just for the lack of motive.
“If it were Walt or Travis, then why wouldn’t they have left the gun, or planted it somewhere they could claim to have found it? Somewhere that would have made me look bad? The fact that the gun is missing is one of the only things keeping them from making an arrest. If one of them is the killer, then that person has the gun.”
He fell silent for a moment, and she sensed him considering her words. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “That’s a good point. I’m just trying to keep an open mind. We can’t dismiss any possibility out of hand, no matter how far-fetched. We can’t afford to overlook anything or anyone, not if we want to get to the bottom of this.”
He was right, she acknowledged. This was the way it had to be. Sure, it didn’t seem like anyone had a motive to kill Bobby, but someone clearly had. Until they figured out who it was, everyone had to be looked at as though they could be the killer.
It was only fair. After all, that was how everybody in town was looking at her.
* * *
“
O
KAY,”
M
ATT SAID, PUSHING
himself to his feet. “You’re good to go.”
Elena glanced at the two fully inflated tires, the truck now perfectly balanced on all four. “Thank you. Let’s get out of here.”
Matt had no trouble understanding her relief. He’d had his attention on the tires most of the time since they’d arrived back at her truck, but he’d been able to feel people watching them. No one had approached or said a word. It hadn’t mattered. He’d known they were there. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling.
Still, he wasn’t ready to retreat just yet. Getting her truck fixed had been just the first item on his agenda when they got to town. He had other business to take care of.
“You go on ahead,” he told her. “I want to poke around here a bit.”
Her attention already drifting to the street and their unseen watchers, she turned back to him in surprise. Not that there was any reason for her to be surprised. It was, after all, what he was here for.
As if realizing it, she slowly nodded. “All right.”
“I’ll see you back at the house.”
He waited, expecting her to turn and get into the truck. She didn’t. She simply stood there, her eyes searching his face, her expression suddenly uncertain. It seemed as though she wanted to say something else.
And in an instant, he understood.
They were already saying goodbye, so soon after meeting again after so long. The strangeness of it hit him. It had always felt strange saying goodbye to her. He’d never been quite ready to do it. It didn’t matter that they would see each other again in a little while. Or was she wondering if that was true, if she should say something, a more definitive goodbye than the last time, just in case?
This was actually a lot like the last time they’d said goodbye. They’d been on the street, not too far from here in fact. The difference was it had been night.
And they’d both had no reason to think he was ever coming back.
He
was
coming back, he almost felt like reassuring her. But he knew it wouldn’t matter. Some part of her still wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him, any more than it ever had been. And he realized maybe he wasn’t ready, either, as the same innate sense of connection he’d had with this woman from the first moment he’d seen her clicked deep within him.
Eight years. It should have been long enough to wash away whatever feelings he’d once had for this woman. But as he peered down into the eyes staring back at him, took in her upturned face, he felt it just the same.
Whatever she might have wanted to say, she didn’t. With another tight nod, she finally turned and rounded the front of the truck to the driver’s side.
Stepping away from the vehicle, Matt watched her climb in and start the engine. He remained where he was as she backed out of the space. There was no reason for him to stay there. He needed to get going, needed to get started poking around.
But something held him in place, and he watched her drive away, the truck slowly heading down the street and fading into the distance.
“She’s not somebody you really want to get mixed up with.”
Matt recognized the voice without seeing the speaker behind him. It was the deputy who’d come by Elena’s ranch earlier—Travis, she’d said his name was. He had the same sneer in his voice.
The man’s tone rankled. The fact that Matt wasn’t sure he disagreed with the statement did, too.
Not letting his expression show the slightest reaction, Matt slowly turned to face the man.
The sneer was on the deputy’s face, as well. He peered at Matt, eyes narrowed as they studied him, like the guy was trying to figure him out. The scrutiny lasted long enough Matt was sure the man hadn’t managed it.
“Is that so?” Matt said mildly.
“She’s a murderer. Killed her husband in cold blood. Is that really somebody you want to be working for?”
“I figure if you had any proof against her she’d be locked up already.”
“It’s only a matter of time,” Travis practically spat. “Everybody in this town knows she did it, and nobody’s going to let her get away with it.”
“Well, until that happens, she’s still somebody with a job that needs to be done.”
“As soon as she’s locked up, you might find it hard getting paid for whatever work you’ve done.”
“Guess I’ll worry about that when the time comes.”
The man grimaced, his mouth tightening with barely controlled anger. “Even if you don’t believe she’s a killer, take my word, she’s no good. Probably no surprise there—her family wasn’t, either.”
The man let the comment hang in the air, probably expecting Matt to be curious enough to ask for more details. Heck, most people probably would be after a comment like that. But Matt already knew all about Elena’s family. He’d met Ed Reyes himself, knew full well what kind of man he was. And Elena herself had told him more than this man could begin to, just as he’d told her things...
Not that he could admit that to this man. But even if he could, he wasn’t about to. He didn’t like bullies, never had. And Travis Gerard had
bully
written all over him. It made Matt wonder what kind of man Elena’s husband had been, if this was the type of person he’d considered his best friend in the world. Matt’s reflexive dislike for Bobby Weston grew deeper.
“Her old man was a drunk,” the deputy finally said when the silence went on too long. “Her mother took off when she was just a kid. With a background like that, probably makes sense that she wouldn’t consider her own marriage worth much.”
“What’s your point?”
“I’d think you’d want to know the kind of person you’re working for.”
“Why would her family make a difference when it comes to working for her? That’s her family, not her.”
Travis Gerard’s eyes narrowed, fresh contempt shining from them. “So you’re that kind of guy, huh? Doesn’t matter what kind of person you work for?”