The Bodyguard's Return

She wanted to weep, but she’d spent most of her tears the night before. Besides, crying didn’t change anything and neither did covering her face with a pillow and hiding in bed all day. She owed Charlie more than tears, more than denial.

She was a reporter, and even though her published work so far was nothing more than a couple of gossip columns and fluff pieces, as Sheriff Ramsey had characterized them, it was time she became an investigative reporter and found out the truth about what had happened to Charlie. She owed the old man that much.

Galvanized with a new determination, she showered, then dressed in a pair of black pencil-thin slacks and a lightweight lavender sweater. Even though it was only the first week of October, the weather had been unusually cool.

The scent of bacon and freshly brewed coffee greeted her as she stepped out of her room and headed downstairs. No matter what time Savannah got up in the morning, her elderly landlady was always up before her.

Winnie sat at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in front of her. She smiled a greeting as Savannah entered the kitchen. “Coffee’s on and the bacon is fried. All you need to tell me is how many eggs you want.”

“None. I’m not hungry this morning.” Savannah went to the cabinet that held the coffee mugs, then poured herself a cup of the brew and joined Winnie at the table.

She suspected the old woman hadn’t rented the upstairs of her house to Savannah because she needed the money but rather because she wanted companionship and somebody to cook for. Winnie’s husband had died three years before, and it was obvious she was lonely.

“How did you sleep?” Winnie asked, the wrinkles in her forehead deepening in concern. When Savannah had come home from Charlie’s place the day before she’d told Winnie what had happened.

Savannah wrapped her hands around the warm coffee mug in an attempt to fight off a chill. “Terrible.” She suddenly remembered the nightmares that had plagued her all night, visions of blood and death and poor Charlie.

Winnie shook her head. “I just don’t understand it. I don’t understand how anyone becomes so desperate they commit suicide.” She paused a moment to take a sip of her coffee. “Why, I saw Charlie yesterday at the grocery store and he seemed just fine.”

Savannah stared at Winnie. “You saw Charlie at the grocery store? What time?”

“I don’t know, it must have been around noon. We met in the ice cream section and he told me how much he loves butter pecan and I told him I was quite partial to plain old chocolate.”

“Did he buy ice cream?”

Winnie frowned. “I saw him get a gallon out of the freezer, but I didn’t see him when he left the store.”

Savannah took a sip of her coffee, her brain burning up as it worked overtime. She knew how much Charlie had loved his butter pecan ice cream. Many evenings she’d shared a bowl with him as they had played a game of chess.

Did a man who planned to commit suicide buy groceries? Did a man who intended to take his own life buy a gallon of ice cream?

All through the night her gut instinct had told her that Charlie didn’t commit suicide, and the fact that the old man had bought ice cream an hour or so before his death only deepened her gut instinct.

Winnie eyed her over the rim of her coffee cup. Despite being seventy-two years old, Winnie was still a sharp tack. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Savannah?”

“I just don’t believe that Charlie committed suicide. Aside from the fact that he bought ice cream a short time before his death, I know Charlie would have never done something like that, knowing I was coming to his house. He would have never wanted me to find him like that.”

“Then what do you think happened?”

“I think Charlie was murdered. He was murdered and somebody made it look like a suicide and I intend to prove it.”

“How are you going to do that?”

Savannah frowned thoughtfully. “I’m not sure. One of the first things I need to do is talk to Sheriff Ramsey.” She took a sip of her coffee, then shook her head. “There’s been too many deaths around here lately.” Strange falls off tractors and from haylofts, a gas heater explosion and other odd deaths. The citizens of Cotter Creek were either unusually unlucky or something more frightening was going on.

She suddenly thought of the handsome hunk she’d literally bumped into on Charlie’s porch the night before. “What do you know about Joshua West?”

A smile curved Winnie’s lips. “Before he left town I think every rancher in the area was locking up their daughters for safekeeping. He’s a charmer, spoiled as a dozen eggs left out in the sun too long, but like all those West boys he’s got a good heart.”

Savannah didn’t care if he was a charmer, or spoiled or had a good heart. His attraction as far as she was concerned was that he was a local who had been out of town for a while and might have some objectivity that could work to her advantage.

But, more importantly, she knew the West name carried weight in Cotter Creek and the sheriff would give more credence to Joshua than he ever would to her. She had a feeling if she wanted people to take her seriously about Charlie’s death, then it wouldn’t hurt to have Joshua West on her side.

“Are you sure you don’t want something for breakfast?” Winnie asked. “You know a good breakfast is always the way to start a good day.”

Savannah laughed. “My mother believed a protein shake and an hour on a StairMaster was the way to start each day.”

“That’s what happens to people when they got more money than sense,” Winnie scoffed. “A couple of eggs?”

Savannah relented and nodded her head. She suspected Winnie didn’t care so much about what she ate but wasn’t quite ready for Savannah to fly out the door and leave her alone for the day.

It was after nine when Savannah left the house, her stomach full and a renewed burn of determination in her soul. Her first stop was at the sheriff’s office, where she was disappointed to learn that Sheriff Ramsey wasn’t in.

She left the office, got into her car and headed for the West ranch. She hoped she could enlist Joshua West’s help in demanding a full investigation into Charlie’s death. Charlie deserved at least that much, and, as far as Savannah was concerned, Sheriff Ramsey hadn’t been too diligent in following up on other deaths in the small town.

The West ranch was a sprawl of pasture surrounding a huge rambling home with a long wooden porch that was perfect for sitting and watching the sunset in the evenings. On more than one occasion in the last couple of months she and Meredith had sat on the porch, talking while the sun went down.

Savannah had always found friendships difficult. From the time she was young her mother had chosen her friends. They had to be beautiful, stylish and from privileged backgrounds. Savannah had never fit in and had found it difficult to trust females so different than her.

But Meredith West was another story. She certainly came from a family who had tons of money, but she suffered no airs, didn’t judge people by their clothes or their looks. She was refreshingly normal after Savannah’s years of being surrounded by superficiality.

It was Meredith who answered Savannah’s knock. As usual the tall brunette was clad in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Her long dark hair was in a careless ponytail. “Savannah.” She opened the screen door, stepped out on the porch and drew Savannah into the warmth of an embrace. “I heard about Charlie. I’m so sorry.”

A wave of grief swept over Savannah, but she shoved it aside. She had no time for grief. She was on a mission. “Thanks, I still can’t believe it myself.”

“I was going to call you this morning to see how you were doing.”

“I’m doing okay. Actually, I’m here to see your brother.”

Meredith frowned. “My brother? Which one?”

“Joshua. Is he home?”

“He’s here, but he’s out riding at the moment. Come on in. He should be back before too long.” Meredith ushered her into the house and toward the kitchen.

Smokey Johnson, the West cook and the man who had helped raise the West children when their mother had been murdered, scowled as the two women entered the room he considered his exclusive domain.

“You be nice, Smokey,” Meredith exclaimed. “Savannah is quite fragile this morning.”

The old man snorted. “Red-haired girls aren’t fragile. They’re tough as nails, got to be to get through all the teasing they take when they’re young.”

Savannah was accustomed to Smokey, who was a cliché of a tough old coot with a heart of gold. “I’m not feeling fragile this morning. I’m feeling more than a little pissed off because I think somebody killed my friend and made it look like a suicide.”

Smokey pointed a gnarled finger toward a chair at the table. “What are you talking about? According to what Joshua told us when he got home last night it was an open-and-shut case of suicide.”

Meredith gazed at Savannah sympathetically. “Everyone knew how much Charlie missed his wife since her death eight years ago. Maybe he just got tired of waiting to join her in the hereafter.”

Savannah shook her head vehemently. “After eight years? Give me a break. Sure, Charlie missed Rebecca and he was looking forward to the time when they would be together again, but he also believed that everyone went when it was time for them to go. After eight years of being alone why would he suddenly decide to end it all?”

Before anyone could reply, the back door opened and Joshua stepped into the kitchen. He stopped short at the sight of her and frowned. “What in the hell are you doing here?”

“Joshua!” Meredith shot her brother a dirty look. “Where are your manners?”

“I lost them when she kicked me in the shin hard enough to half cripple me yesterday.”

Warmth swept up Savannah’s neck as she remembered the kick she’d delivered to him. “I thought you’d killed Charlie.”

She’d recognized in the brief time she’d seen him the day before that he was handsome, but his attractiveness today hit her like a kick from a horse.

She hadn’t noticed yesterday just how thick and shiny his dark hair was, or the amazing green of his eyes. She hadn’t paid attention to his raw masculinity that today screamed from him.

Clad in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved knit shirt that pulled tautly across broad shoulders and a flat stomach, he was blatantly male and sexy as hell.

Winnie had said he was a charmer, but there was nothing charming in the look he shot her. He looked irritated and tense and just a whisper away from dangerous.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m heading to the shower,” he said.

Savannah popped out of the chair. “Actually, I’m here to talk to you. Would it be possible for us to speak somewhere alone?”

“I can’t imagine what we’d have to talk about.” He started out of the kitchen and with a glance of apology to Meredith and Smokey, Savannah followed Joshua.

“Of course we have things to talk about,” she exclaimed, unable to help but notice that he had a perfect butt for jeans. “We were both at a crime scene. We should compare notes and see if we can help the investigation.”

His long strides carried him down the hallway toward the master bathroom. “There’s no notes to compare. The investigation is over. I spoke to Ramsey early this morning, and according to him there’s no reason not to think it’s anything but a suicide.”

“Ramsey is an overweight, lazy, incompetent jerk who is just biding time until his retirement at the end of the year,” she protested.

She jumped in surprise and stumbled a step backward as he unexpectedly twisted around to face her in the bathroom doorway.

“And he told me you were an overeager, conspiracy theorist who was desperate to find a story that will take you away from writing silly gossip columns and gain you some real respect.” He yanked his shirt over his head and threw it to the bathroom floor behind him.

Savannah tried to maintain focus as she was presented a broad, bare, muscled chest that would make most women weak in the knees. “That’s not true. Ramsey doesn’t like me because I’m questioning his investigation skills.”

Joshua’s hands went to the waist of his jeans where they unfastened the first button on his fly. A lazy smile curved his lips upward. For just a moment there didn’t seem to be enough oxygen in the area.

“Unless you want to discuss this while I scrub your back, I suggest you take a hike,” he said.

For just a brief, insane moment the idea of this sexy man washing her back was infinitely appealing. But she reminded herself why she was here and why it was important to get Joshua West on her side.

“All right, I’ll take a hike right now, but sooner or later you need to hear what I have to tell you. Something isn’t right in this town, and somebody needs to do something about it.” Hoping she sounded mysterious enough to pique his interest, she turned on her heel and stomped back to the kitchen.

Joshua walked toward the white tent that had been set up in the cemetery for Charlie Summit’s funeral. When he’d parked, he’d been dismayed to see so few cars here. It appeared that Charlie was going to go out of this world much like he’d spent most of the past eight years of his life…alone.

Joshua knew all about feeling alone, although in the year and a half he’d spent in New York City, he’d rarely been alone.

He’d worked hard and had played even harder. He’d thrown himself into the Manhattan single lifestyle, serial-dating sharp, beautiful women with fascinating careers. But in spite of all that he’d never shaken a core sense of homesickness that had eaten at him day and night.

Failure. A little voice whispered in his head. He’d struck out on his own, determined to make a life separate from his family. He’d wanted to be his own man, but in the end he’d run back home like a wounded puppy.

Although he had been successful as a stockbroker, the shambles of his personal life had finally forced him to get out of town and head back to Cotter Creek.

His father, Red West, had just assumed Joshua would step back into the family business and work for Wild West Protection Services as a bodyguard, but Joshua had told his dad he was taking a little time off to decide what he wanted to do. Going to work for the family business felt like yet another failure.

He shoved these thoughts aside as he approached the tent, the scent of too-sweet flowers cloying in the air. Charlie had left a will with an account set up for his funeral. He’d wanted only a gravesite service and to be buried beside his beloved wife, Rebecca. Together in life, now together again in death.

As he entered the white structure, he stiffened at the sight of Savannah Clarion. She stood next to Winnie Halifax, Savannah’s hair sparkling and appearing even more red against the black of her longsleeved blouse and black slacks.

He nodded to the preacher, then took up a position on the opposite side of the casket from Savannah, who had been an irritating pain in his ass over the past three days.

She’d left a message at the house every day, requesting that he call her back, but the last thing Joshua wanted was to get mixed up in any drama. He’d had enough of that before he’d left New York.

Within a few minutes others began to arrive. His sister, Meredith appeared with his dad and Smokey. Meredith hurried to Savannah’s side, while his father and Smokey joined him.

Raymond Buchannan, the owner of the Cotter Creek newspaper, arrived, looking old and tired. Joshua realized the man must be close to eighty and wondered if he ever intended to retire.

Mayor Aaron Sharp also arrived, shaking everyone’s hands as if he were at a political campaign instead of a funeral.

Finally the service began. As Reverend Baxter talked about life and death and redemption, Joshua found himself looking again and again at Savannah.

He hadn’t thought her particularly pretty the day he’d seen her at Charlie’s house, but there was something in her irregular features that was arresting.

The dark red curls suited her, complemented by her eyes, which were a mix of gold and copper. She had a killer figure, slender hips and long legs and was unusually busty for a slim woman.

Over the past three days Meredith had made it her job to extol the virtues of her friend to him. Witty and smart. Fun-loving and soft-hearted. Tenacious and outspoken. He’d heard more about Savannah Clarion than he’d ever wanted to know.

He had a feeling his sister was attempting to indulge in a little matchmaking, but Meredith didn’t realize the last thing Joshua wanted in his life was any kind of a relationship with a woman.

Unlike his brothers, who seemed to have a knack when it came to the opposite sex, Joshua had failed miserably in that respect as well.

Grief for Charlie shoved every other thought out of his head. The old man had been a special friend to Joshua before he’d left Cotter Creek, and Joshua would miss him.

He was grateful when the service ended. He didn’t hang around to make nice with the other funeral attendees, but rather slipped out of the tent the minute the service was complete.

Instead of walking to where his car was parked, he followed the path to another area of the cemetery, the place where his mother was buried.

The entire right corner of the cemetery contained the West plots. His mother was buried beneath a grand red maple tree whose leaves were just beginning to turn scarlet with autumn grandeur.

He stood before her headstone. Elizabeth West, beloved wife, beloved mother. Joshua had never known her. He’d been a baby when she’d gone to the grocery store one evening and later had been found dead beside her car on the side of the road. She’d been strangled, and her murderer had never been found.

Sometimes Joshua wondered what his life would have been like if he’d had a mother, if he’d been raised by a woman instead of by his father and the cantankerous Smokey, who had run the house like an army barrack.

He’d heard stories about his mother, a beautiful woman who had given up an acting career to marry his father and build a family here in Cotter Creek. But he knew her only from photos and didn’t have a single memory of his own.

“Meredith told me about your mother’s death.”

Joshua stiffened at the sound of Savannah’s voice. The woman was as tenacious as an Oklahoma tick on the back of a hound dog. He turned around to look at her, noting how the sunshine sparked in her hair. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to listen to me, that’s all. Just hear me out with an open mind. Did you know that Charlie went grocery shopping an hour before his death? Did you know that he bought a gallon of butter pecan ice cream? Why does a man who is suicidal buy groceries that nobody will eat?”

She talked fast, as if afraid she wouldn’t get everything out before he walked away from her. “Joshua, Charlie knew I was coming to interview him. He would have never killed himself knowing that I was expected to be there, that I would be the one to find him like that. Charlie would have never done that to me.”

As much as Joshua didn’t want to get caught up in what he’d considered her drama, her words gave him pause. “Maybe he went shopping then got depressed. Maybe he wasn’t suicidal until five minutes before he picked up his gun.”

She shook her head, red curls bouncing. “At least three times a week I spent the evenings with Charlie. I’m telling you the man wasn’t depressed. He wasn’t suicidal. He had plans, big plans. He was going to plant a flower garden next spring, fill it with all the flowers his wife had loved. He was thinking about taking lessons to learn how to play bridge.”

Joshua wished he had touched base with Charlie more often while he’d been in New York. He’d called every couple of weeks, but the calls had been brief, too brief.

“It’s not just Charlie,” Savannah continued. “There have been others deaths…too many.”

He suddenly remembered her parting words to Ramsey the day of Charlie’s death, that something was rotten in Cotter Creek and she intended to get to the bottom of it. “What deaths? What are you talking about?”

She glanced around, then looked back at him. “It’s too complicated to go over all of it now.”

“Why me? Why are you coming to me with all this?”

She frowned, the gesture wrinkling her freckled nose with charming appeal. “For two reasons. First of all you’ve been out of town for a while. I figure you’ll be more objective about things than any of the other locals. Secondly, you’re a West and that holds a lot of weight in this area of the country.”

“Meredith is a West, why not enlist her help?” he countered. He tried not to notice her scent, a spicy musk that was intensely pleasant.

“I told you the other day that Sheriff Ramsey was lazy and incompetent. The man is also a raging sexist. He wouldn’t pay any more attention to Meredith than he has to me.”

Despite his reluctance to the contrary, he was intrigued. “Okay, I’m listening,” he said.

She glanced over her shoulder to where Winnie stood in the distance, obviously waiting for her. “I can’t go into it all now. Besides, I have some research at the newspaper office. I’d like you to see it.”

He had a feeling she wasn’t going to stop bothering him until he agreed at least to see what she thought she had. “Okay, just tell me when and where to meet you and I’ll see what you’ve got.”

Her features lit with relief. “We need to meet at the newspaper office, but I’d rather do it when Mr. Buchannan isn’t there. He always leaves the office at around eight in the evenings. Could you meet me there tonight about nine?”

Somewhere deep inside him, he knew this was probably a mistake. But, since returning to Cotter Creek, he’d felt unsettled. He’d grown accustomed to the fast pace of the city, of having places to go and things to do. In truth, he was bored, and he told himself that was the only reason he was agreeing to meet her.

“All right, nine tonight at the newspaper office,” he said.

She smiled. The look softened her features and transformed her from arresting into something close to beautiful. “I’ll see you tonight. And Joshua, thanks.” She turned and hurried toward Winnie.

Joshua stared after her, wishing he could take back his agreement to meet her. He had a feeling he’d made yet another mistake in a long string of mistakes that had been made in the past year and a half.

Chapter 3

The Cotter Creek Chronicle office was located on the bottom floor of a two-story brick building on Main Street. The front of the building was a large picture window, at the moment as dark as the night that surrounded Savannah as she parked her car in front.

It was eight-forty-five, and Main Street was completely deserted. Most of the shops and businesses closed their doors at eight-thirty. The only nightlife Cotter Creek had to offer was a couple of taverns on the edge of town.

She turned off her car engine and tapped a pale pink fingernail on her steering wheel, a surge of excitement filling her.

Finally, finally she had somebody who would listen to her. She certainly hadn’t been able to get her boss, Raymond Buchannan, interested in her theories. All he wanted from her were fluff pieces that would please a more feminine audience.

“I write the news fit to print,” he’d told her the last time she’d broached him about the multitude of deaths in the Cotter Creek area. “I reported what happened in each of those deaths, and there’s nothing left to report.”

Nor had Sheriff Ramsey or Mayor Aaron Sharp been interested in what she’d had to say. This town definitely had a good old boy network and she had several strikes against her. First, she was a woman. Second, she was an outsider. And last, she had a feeling that most everyone in town thought she was here only to make a name for herself and have a body of work to take to a bigger newspaper job.

Nothing could be further from the truth. It had taken her only a week in this dusty Oklahoma town to fall in love with Cotter Creek. She had no intention of going anywhere. In fact, she had broached the topic of buying the paper from Raymond Buchannan when he decided to retire. If he ever decided to retire.