The High Country Rancher. Jan Hambright

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СКАЧАТЬ hours. He couldn’t risk having her wandering around on his mountain alone. This morning he’d found a set of footprints in the melting snow next to the timberline, right where the good detective said she saw someone last night.

      Whatever was going on didn’t involve her, and he wasn’t about to let anything happen to her.

      Detective Mariah Ellis was better off back where she belonged. Far away from the Bellwether Ranch.

      

      MARIAH SLID INTO THE cab of Baylor’s black Chevy pickup and buckled up. What was left of last night’s snowstorm lay in melting drifts, and the sun was warm against her face.

      He fired up the truck and backed out of the driveway.

      She tried to relax, but it was impossible. She’d yet to accomplish what she’d set out to do. Interrogate Baylor McCullough.

      “I’d like you to come into the station for an interview. I need to know where you were on April the fifth.” She glanced at the muddy road in front of them, before slipping him a glance.

      His jaw was set; he stared straight ahead. She knew defiance when she saw it.

      “If you had nothing to do with Endicott’s disappearance, you’re in the clear.” The word but hung up on her tongue. She was so sure he was somehow involved when she’d come tearing up the mountain yesterday afternoon. Now she wasn’t as convinced, but she still had a job to do.

      “A polygraph could clear you.”

      His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “You’re going to need a lot more than a hunch, Detective.”

      A chill launched over her skin and landed in her gut. He was right. She was reaching. But a reach was all she had to go on at the moment. He was her only lead.

      “If that’s the way you want to play it for the time being, but it’s the surest way to clear yourself.”

      Baylor didn’t doubt it. It was the principle of the whole damn thing. His past was playing into it, he was sure. In the eyes of the law he’d always be suspect.

      He rounded the bend in the road and spotted the tow truck along with another pickup parked in the opposite direction. He slowed and pulled in behind it.

      The tow-truck driver raised his hand and waved. The man standing next to him did the same and Baylor recognized his neighbor Harley Neville who lived a mile up the road.

      “You can stay in the truck and keep warm if you like.” He pulled the handle and the door swung open. He somehow doubted she’d take that option. Mariah Ellis likely lived on curiosity and adrenaline. Both went with her line of work.

      “I’d like to have a look.” She climbed out of the truck and moved up next to him as he covered ground in long, even strides.

      Her late model Ford Taurus was augered deep in the ditch. The rear end sticking up in the air, the undercarriage high-centered on the berm of earth, the nose rammed into the embankment.

      “Bang-up job.” A whistle hissed from between his lips, drawing a glare from her that could have cut diamonds.

      He stared down the road, taking note of the exact spot where she’d gotten sideways, where she’d made the mistake of hitting her brakes, and where she’d ended up. Lucky she hadn’t been seriously hurt, or he wouldn’t have found her in time to save her life.

      “This your car?” the tow-truck driver asked, shifting his green Bernie’s Garage hat off then back on, before settling it low on his forehead.

      “Yeah. It’s mine. You can send the bill to the county sheriff’s department.”

      “Will do.” He moved to his wrecker and unhooked the wench cable.

      “Harley, how are you?” Baylor asked, shaking the other man’s hand.

      “Not too shabby. The little lady was lucky this happened here and not a few miles back.”

      Baylor glanced over at Mariah, who shaded her eyes against the sun beating down on them, making it almost impossible to believe only last night the area had been covered in six inches of fresh snow.

      Harley was right. Less than two miles west where the river ran straight and the road turned south, there would have been nothing to keep the car from plunging over the edge into the river below.

      He sobered and shook off the blanket of dread that suddenly covered him, making his chest feel tight and his mouth go dry.

      “Looks like Bernie has this. Let’s head for Grangeville.”

      Mariah nodded and turned toward the truck. He exchanged a nod with Harley and followed her back to the rig, enjoying the sway of her hips in her dark blue slacks. If he had to have a cop on his doorstep and in his bed, he wanted her.

      They got into the pickup and pulled out around Harley’s shiny new rig. It must have cost him a small fortune, Baylor decided as he eased past the tow truck and picked up speed.

      “How long have you been on the ranch?” she asked, casting a glance his way before leaning forward in the seat to study the landscape flitting past on the right.

      “I took over the Bellwether from my folks in 1998. My dad’s health wasn’t so good and he couldn’t take the winters up here anymore. Now they have a place in Arizona.”

      “There’s something to be said for staying warm.”

      “What about your parents?” He braked and made the wide sweeping turn that put them parallel to the river a hundred feet below.

      “Divorced. My dad lives in Grangeville, my mom in Lewiston.”

      Damn. Why hadn’t he made the connection sooner? A thread of apprehension laced through him, knotting his muscles. “Ted Ellis is your dad?”

      “That’s right.”

      The knots didn’t loosen, and the knowledge put him on alert. Her father was the chief of police. He’d worked damn hard to follow the law, not engage it in spades. Now there were two Ellises who had it in for him.

      Thump!

      The truck jerked hard to the right and veered close to the edge of the riverbank.

      A shriek escaped from between Mariah’s lips.

      “Hang on!” Baylor pulled left on the steering wheel.

      Thump! The truck jerked again, sending them into the opposite lane.

      Baylor pulled it back and pushed down hard on the brakes. The pickup ground to a stop in the middle of the muddy road.

      Mariah’s hand was on the door handle and she was out of the truck before he could assure her they were fine, but he doubted she’d have much to do with the notion, considering all the color had drained from her face.

      He hopped out and came around the front of the rig to stare at the problem.

      One lug nut was the lone survivor holding СКАЧАТЬ