Confessing to the Cowboy

“Sorry,” she said, finally getting herself under control. “It’s just that Dorothy used to carry that dog everywhere with her. She always had her dressed to the nines and looking more like a fashion accessory than a real dog.”

He scowled. “She’s in a leopard-print dress today. I was afraid my place was so drafty she’d get cold. I need to find her a good home.”

Mary grinned again, as if imagining the dog traipsing around his house in her leopard finery. “Sorry, no dog for us. I don’t have time for a dog, but I’ll ask around for you. I know how sweet Twinkie is so you shouldn’t have a problem finding somebody to take her off your hands.”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate it. A dog named Twinkie just doesn’t seem right for me. If I was going to get myself a dog it would be a big one named Bruiser.”

A light of laughter lingered in her eyes. “Ah, that male ego, it gets in the way all the time.”

“Order up,” Rusty yelled from the pass window.

“That’s probably your breakfast,” she said as she hurried away. She returned in a jiffy with a large platter and set it in front of him.

“Later I want to pick your brain about some of the regulars who come in here, especially anyone who has started coming in on a regular basis over the last year or so.” He reached for his fork, although his appetite had fled the moment he’d thought about what lay ahead of him.

What he’d like to do was sit and eat his breakfast and fantasize about the woman who’d served him. He’d like to believe that someday Mary would let him into her life, into her heart. But he didn’t have time for silly fantasies.

He knew a lot of cowboys came in here and flirted with her and he suspected there were times she flirted back, but she’d always made it clear that she had no interest in any romantic relationship.

Apparently the death of her husband in a car accident had tainted her for seeking any other relationship with another man. Her husband must have been something special.

As he began to eat his breakfast, his thoughts shot in other directions. He needed to get out to the family ranch and see his parents, he had to find a home for Twinkie and most of all he had a serial killer to catch before he killed again.

Mary was far too conscious of Cameron as she went about her business serving other customers, and he lingered over his meal. When he’d finished eating, he gestured for a second cup of coffee, and then twirled around on the stool and eyed the rest of the customers.

Although she was too far away and he faced away from her, she knew that his eyes were more brown than green and narrowed in deep concentration. He wasn’t the local law casually enjoying a cup of coffee and visiting with other customers. He was a predator on the hunt for another predator.

As the rush began to slow down, Mary wiped down the counter and thought of the past couple of months. She’d lost two good waitresses to romance and love.

Lizzy Wiles had blown into town and had worked at the café for several months before she’d fallen in love with local rancher Daniel Jefferson. The two had married a month ago and Lizzy was now a full-time rancher’s wife.

Courtney Chambers had been another waitress who had left her job when her boyfriend, Nick Benson, had returned to Grady Gulch to discover that when he’d left almost two years prior Courtney had been pregnant with his child. The two had worked out their past issues, rediscovered their love for each other and had also gotten married. Courtney was now enjoying the luxury of being a stay-at-home mother and there was a rumor that she was pregnant again.

Mary missed the two women, who had been hard workers and friends. And now she was missing three more waitresses, all killed by the same person.

She hadn’t been surprised when several of the waitresses had called in sick that morning. It had become frighteningly obvious since Dorothy’s murder that working as a waitress at the Cowboy Café was dangerous.

How long would it be before all the waitresses quit? For the past five years, since she’d taken over ownership of the café, business had boomed. She’d never had trouble covering the expenses and had actually put away a substantial amount of money for Matt’s college.

But she was aware of the fact that everything could change in the blink of an eye. She’d always been suspect of her good luck after she’d fled her home in California. The first couple of months on the road had been difficult, but once she’d landed in Grady Gulch magical things had fallen into place.

Somewhere in the very depths of her heart she’d always feared it was all too good to be true, that when she least expected it, it would all disappear. It would be taken away from her as penance.

“Whew, busy morning.” Lynette Shivers, one of the waitresses, stepped up next to Mary. “Hopefully we’ll get a little breathing room before lunch.”

Mary smiled gratefully at the young woman. “I’m just glad you and the other two are here. I wouldn’t have blamed any of you for deciding not to work here anymore.”

“No creep is going to scare me away from my job,” Lynette said with a burst of bravado. “I like working here and I’m not about to quit.”

“I just want you all to stay safe,” Mary replied.

“I am staying safe. So far these murders have only happened to women who live alone. Regina Maxwell moved in with me last week, so I’m not by myself in that house and we check and double-check the windows and doors all the time to make sure they’re locked tight.”

“That’s good to hear,” Mary replied. Regina Maxwell was another of the waitresses who was working that day. Regina was only twenty-four, a bit flightly and often talked too much to the customers, but she was also a favorite among the diners.

“Besides, Denver Walton invited me out on a date for this weekend,” Lynette said with a special smile lighting her green eyes. “I’m hoping he’ll come in at some time today to firm up the plans.”

Mary wanted to warn the young waitress that Denver wasn’t a good bet for any kind of a long-term relationship, but she didn’t have the heart to dispel the happiness in Lynette’s eyes at the moment. There would be time later to warn her about giving away her heart too easily to a man like Denver Walton.

The two women got back to work preparing for the lunch rush to come. Joe Lina, the mailman, arrived with a pile of mail for Mary. “I’ve got a fistful of things for you today,” he said as he set the pile on the counter.

“Catalogs and bills,” Mary replied. “That’s all I ever get.”

“My wife gets dozens of catalogs in the mail. She says looking through them is her favorite hobby. Sometimes she finds something she wants to order and usually has to send it back for some reason or another, but mostly she just looks.”

“Most of the catalogs I get are advertising new restaurant equipment that I either can’t afford or don’t want or need. But it is fun to thumb through them,” Mary agreed.

Joe waved a goodbye and Mary carried her mail to the coffee table in her living room and then returned to the café.

Lunchtime came and went and it was about three when Mary poured herself a cup of coffee and sank down on a stool behind the counter to rest her feet for a few minutes.

Deputy Ben Temple was the only customer in the place at the moment. He sat at a table for two against the far wall, a cup of coffee at his elbow and the morning newspaper spread out in front of him. He’d been there through breakfast and lunch and she knew he’d probably be there through dinner, as well. In fact, she had a feeling that he’d be a permanent fixture in the café until the murderer was behind bars.

He’d not only watched every person who walked through the café door, he’d also interviewed each of the three waitresses working that day, asking if they had anyone in their lives who didn’t appreciate the fact that they were waitressing. Apparently he hadn’t gotten any shocking answers from anyone, for he remained seated and hadn’t used his cell phone to contact anyone.

She sipped her coffee and thought about the customers she considered regulars. Joe Lina rarely missed a meal here, but despite his unpleasant nature there was no way she could believe the old man capable of killing anyone.

Although the theory was that Candy Bailey’s killer had walked in through the front door either invited or not invited, the killer had gotten to the other two women by climbing through windows. In Shirley Cook’s case, the window had been unlocked. She wasn’t sure if that had been the case with Dorothy.

Whoever it was had to be agile and move with an almost inhuman stealth. George Wilton was definitely on her “no way” list.

As the dinner rush began around five she wasn’t surprised to see Cameron walk back through the door. She also wasn’t surprised at how her wayward heart leaped at the sight of him.

Sometimes in the evenings when they sat alone and talked, she found herself wondering what those lips of his would feel like against her own, how they would feel trailing a slow path of kisses along her jawline and down the length of her neck. She found herself wondering what it would be to wake up in the morning and have his big, strong body curled around hers.

As he hung up his hat and then walked toward her, his eyes glimmered with a warmth that threatened to pull her in, but she steeled herself against it...against him.

“Coffee?” she asked as he slid into his usual stool.

He shook his head. “No thanks, I’m all coffeed out.” He shrugged off his thick jacket and hung it on the back of his stool. “I think we’re in for an early winter. The wind is blowing so cold and I swear I smell snow in the air.”

“Then how about a cup of hot cocoa instead?” she asked. He looked tired, dispirited and her need to comfort him was strong. The only way she knew to do that was through food or drink. She didn’t dare attempt any other way to give him comfort.

“Actually, a cup of cocoa sounds great, along with a little inside information.”

She eyed him curiously. She served his cocoa, pulled up a stool on the opposite side of the counter and watched as he drew the cup to his mouth, took a sip and then quickly licked his upper lip for any errant chocolate residue.

“Inside information?” she prompted him, not wanting to focus on his sinfully sexy lips.

He glanced around, obviously grateful that the café was just beginning to get busy and nobody had yet to sit on the stools on either side of him.

“A little earlier Adam and I worked up a list of some of the newer members of the community and a few of the locals that bounced around in our heads. I’d just like to get your general impression of them.”

She nodded, eager to help but unsure that she could. “Okay, but you understand I only have a limited time with most of the people who come in here to eat, and most of the time they are on their best behavior.”

“Understood, but it’s possible you know more about your customers than you realize.” He took another sip of his cocoa and then leaned forward. “Thomas Manning,” he said.

She frowned as she thought of the middle-aged man who came in every couple of days for dinner. “I don’t know much about him at all. He always comes in alone, he brings a book with him and reads while he eats.”

“Doesn’t visit much with anyone?” Cameron asked.

“Not really. He pretty much keeps to himself, but he’s always pleasant to anyone who speaks to him and none of the waitresses have ever complained about him.”

“John and Jeff Taylor.”

Mary couldn’t help the smile that curved her lips when she thought of the two young twins. “I know they were raised by their mother someplace back East after their mother and father divorced when they were five years old. When their father, Jonathon Taylor, died, he left them his ranch just outside of town.” She shrugged. “They seem like nice young men trying to fit into a lifestyle that’s a bit alien to them. Jeff is quieter than John, but both of them seem like good people.”

She watched him take another sip of his cocoa, aware of the growing crowd of people filling the café. “I’m assuming Brandon Williams isn’t on your list of suspects.” Brandon had moved to Grady Gulch about six months before. He was a big veteran confined to a motorized scooter. Scars marred his face and he was missing facial hair and was bald, yet his pleasant personality made him a favorite among the waitresses.

“Physically Williams is a write-off, as are several other men in town. The man or woman we’re seeking is physically fit and filled with some crazy compulsion to kill waitresses. So far we haven’t found any other solid connection between the three women other than the fact that they all worked here for you.”

“So, you’re fairly sure it’s somebody who has a personal grudge against me or the café,” Mary said, fighting off a new shiver that threatened to stalk up her back.

“Trust me, that’s something uppermost in my mind.” His eyes turned the soft golden green that made her want to both fall toward him and run away from him at the same time. “I need a list from you of every vendor, repair company or anyone else you have contact with for the café business.”

“There aren’t many, but I can have it for you by tomorrow,” she replied.

At that moment Rusty called to her from the kitchen. “This is really a bad time to have a long discussion,” she said as she got up from her stool. “The dinner rush is heating up. Will you be stopping by later tonight?”

He frowned. “Doubtful. I’ve got a meeting with Mayor Davidson at eight and I don’t know how long I’ll be with Dorothy’s sister.”

“Dell giving you a hard time?” she asked as she thought of the young mayor who had been elected two years before.

“He’s been okay until this last one, but he’s more than a little frantic right now. I just wish I had some information to let him know we’re on top of this.” He got up and grabbed his jacket. “Go on,” he said as Rusty called for her again. “I’ll catch up with you sometime tomorrow.”

Mary watched him shrug on his jacket, grab his hat and then disappear out the door. As she hurried to the kitchen her thoughts remained on Cameron. The weight of the safety of the entire town rested on his broad shoulders and this wasn’t the first time he’d faced difficulties as sheriff of the small town.

In the past couple of months he’d had to deal with the kidnapping of a baby and the disappearance of Adam Benson’s girlfriend. In that particular case he’d had to arrest one of his own. Along with the bigger crimes came the smaller ones that all towns suffered. Domestic abuse, robberies and bar fights had already kept Cameron’s team of deputies pretty busy, now with these murders they all had to be stretched to their very limits.

She knew there were a dozen women in town who would love to be Cameron’s rock, the one he came home to every night after a long, hard day. But he’d never looked at any of them. For the past eight years that she’d been in town she’d never heard any gossip about him and any woman.

Several of the waitresses teased her and told her that it was obvious Cameron was crazy about her and was just waiting for her to give him a signal that she was open to him. She hoped that wasn’t the case, for he would wait forever. She didn’t want Cameron to live the rest of his life alone—that was a choice she had made for herself, but would never choose for anyone else.

As always, the dinner rush pushed all thoughts out of her head as she focused all her concentration on running a successful café.

By the time the café closed and all the cleanup was finished, Mary was tired. Despite her aching feet and overall exhaustion it always took her a little while to wind down before going to sleep.

After checking that Matt was sleeping peacefully, she took a long, hot shower and then pulled on the oversize Cowboy Café T-shirt that she used as nightwear. Finally she sank down on the sofa, the pile of mail in a stack on the coffee table.

The first thing she did was separate the stack into three piles—catalogs, bills and advertising trash. She frowned as she picked up what was obviously a card envelope in her favorite lavender color. It was addressed to the Cowboy Café. Curious, she opened it and pulled out a glittery card that read Happy Anniversary.

She frowned in confusion. She opened it to discover a traditional anniversary verse printed inside and no signature. Why would anyone send such a card to the café? Had the café originally opened its doors on November 10?

As the day’s date reverberated around in her head, she gasped and the card fell from her hands to the floor.

Her heart beat with a frantic rhythm that threatened darkness at the edges of her consciousness. She bent over, with her head nearly in her lap and tried to regulate her breathing as images from the past crashed through her brain.

It had to be a coincidence, she thought as she finally raised her head. Her heartbeat slowed from an explosive rapidity to one of simmering panic.

Coincidence, her brain repeated, desperate to believe it so. After all, the card hadn’t been addressed to her personally, but rather to the café.

It couldn’t have anything to do with her or her past. She leaned over and picked up the envelope from the coffee table. The postmark was from right here in Grady Gulch.

“Nobody knows,” she whispered, her voice making the words sound more like a mantra, a prayer rather than a statement of fact.

With a new panicked wildness she ripped both the envelope and the card into tiny little pieces and carried them to the trash can in her bedroom.

She sat on the edge of the bed and clasped her trembling hands together. Who had sent the card and what could it possibly mean?

Over the past eight years had she mentioned anything that personal to anyone? She didn’t think so, but how could anyone in Grady Gulch know that thirteen years ago on November 10 she’d married a monster named Jason McKnight. Who in town might know about her past? Who in Grady Gulch might know what she had done?

* * *

He wished he could have been there when she’d opened up the card. He wished he could have seen the stunned horror wash across her pretty features as she realized what it was, what it meant.

Everyone in town loved Mary Mathis...everyone but him. He hated her. Everyone thought she was good and kind, but she wasn’t. She was a selfish bitch who only pretended there was goodness in her heart.

The Waitress Waster, that’s who he considered himself to be, a cheesy name for a serial killer, but he’d claimed it as his own. He only wished he’d been present each time that Mary had learned that one of her precious waitresses had been killed.

He’d wanted to see her grief in the dimming of the brightness of her blue eyes, in the tremble of her lush lower lip. By now she had to realize that the murders were all related and that they were all aimed at the place she called home, at her personally.

He hoped her heart beat with frantic fear each time she got into bed to sleep. He hoped she feared everyone around her, unsure where danger might arise.

Foreplay, that’s what the dead waitresses had been to him...a prelude to the big event and of course the big event was the destruction of the café and all that Mary loved, the final big event would be the utter destruction of Mary Mathis.

Chapter 4

Dorothy Blake’s funeral took place on Friday morning at eleven o’clock. The weather provided an appropriate setting for the somber affair with gray low-hanging clouds, blustery wind and frigid temperatures. It was as if nature wasn’t any happier about the event than the people attending.

Cameron tugged his jacket collar up closer against his neck as he perused the crowd...and it was a big one. It appeared as if nearly everyone in the small town had turned out despite the nasty, wintry day. It didn’t help that the Grady Gulch cemetery was on a rise, with few trees to break the wind gusts.

His men were all stationed around the area, also keeping an eye on the people attending. They were looking for somebody who shouldn’t be here, somebody expressing inappropriate actions or emotions, anything suspicious that might make them take a second look.

Serial killers often attended the funerals of their victims or returned to the cemetery alone afterward to relive the kill in his mind. They also sometimes worked their way into the center of the investigation, secretly enjoying their role as volunteer avenger in a death they’d committed.

Cameron had already assigned Deputy Brooks to do surveillance on the three grave sites of the victims during the night and Deputy John Mills would take the daytime hours.

He saw Mary standing next to Lynette Shivers in the middle of the crowd. She always closed down the café during funerals and then reopened for anyone who might need food and the comfort of friends afterward.

Mary was dressed in a pair of black dress slacks and a black winter coat. Although her features were stoic, she had an arm around Lynette, who was openly weeping.

He directed his gaze to Sarah Blake, Dorothy’s younger sister. She stood with her back stiff, her eyes dry as the minister began the service. Cameron had found her to be a sour woman who’d had little nice to say about her older sister. All Sarah had wanted was to get the funeral over with as quickly as possible so she could get back to her own life.

She was leaving town the minute the service was over. Good riddance, Cameron thought wryly. She’d had nothing to offer to help in any way, had confessed that the two sisters had fallen out years ago and had maintained only phone contact once a year at Christmastime since the falling-out.

Cameron couldn’t help but think of his brother, Bobby, and his heart ached with loss. Bobby had been two years younger than Cameron and the brothers had been close. Bobby was one of those people who could light up a room, who, no matter what your mood, could make you laugh.

Bobby had loved the ranch work but had understood that the ranch wasn’t Cameron’s calling. Ten years ago when Cameron had decided to run for sheriff, Bobby had been his biggest supporter. Cameron couldn’t imagine anything driving a wedge between him and his brother. Only death had been a powerful enough force to rob Cameron of that precious relationship.

He forced his concentration back to the crowd, this time trying to discern who wasn’t in attendance. Who wasn’t here was just as important as who was as far as he was concerned.

One person notably missing from the crowd was Thomas Manning, the loner who had moved to town months ago. Cameron frowned trying to remember if the man had attended any of the funerals of the victims. He didn’t think so. It might mean something, it might mean nothing.

A sigh of frustration escaped Cameron’s lips. A break, they just needed some kind of a damned break. They’d spent the past two days chasing down all the businesses that helped keep the café running smoothly. Nothing had come from any of those interviews.

As Ben Temple sidled up next to him, he gave his deputy a grim nod. “Nothing suspicious that I can see so far. What about you?”

“Nada,” Ben replied. “Other than the fact that Dorothy’s sister appears eager to dash, nobody looks out of the ordinary.” Ben raised his collar as a cold gust of wind swept through where they stood.

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