Rough Rider. B.J. Daniels

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       Chapter Three

      Boone was surprised by the young woman’s reaction.

      “Sorry, but I’m not available.” She actually sounded offended.

      “Because you’re too busy going through dusty old files?”

      She looked up from where she was leafing through one and slowly put it down. “The reason my partner is dead is in one of these files. I need to find his killer.”

      “Wait, I thought it was an accident?”

      “That’s what the police say, but they’re wrong.”

      He shook his head. He’d run into his share of stubborn women, but this one took the cake. “You seem pretty sure of yourself about a lot of things.”

      She put her hands on her hips and looked like she could chew nails. “Hank was murdered. I’d stake my life on it.”

      “If you’re right, then there is probably a good chance that’s what you’re doing.”

      “He would have done the same for me. Hank... Everyone loved him.”

      Well, not everyone, but he knew now wasn’t the time to point that out. He could see how hard this was on her and told himself to cut her some slack. But if he had any hope of finding out if Hank Knight had known where his kidnapped sister was, then he needed this woman’s help.

      “I’m sorry. Apparently the two of you were close,” he said, which surprised him since Waters had said Hank Knight was elderly. She’d just said the man was in the process of retiring.

      Hank’s advancing age could be the reason he had such a young partner. In the ambient glow of the flashlight C.J. didn’t even look thirty, though given her confidence, she could have been older. Her long curly hair was the deep, rich color of copper, framing a face flecked with freckles. Both made her brown eyes look wider and more innocent. She had her unruly hair pulled back into a ponytail and wore an old Cubs baseball cap. His father had always been a huge Cubs fan. Boone wondered if Hank had been.

      C.J. West was a slight woman but one he knew better than to underestimate. He needed her help because the more he thought about it, the more he felt the answers were here in Butte, here in this office.

      “I’ve known Hank since I was a child playing in this building,” she said. “My mother had a job on another floor. I used to hang out with him. He taught me everything I know about the investigative business plus much more. He was like a father to me.”

      Boone nodded. “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you. I hate that I have to add to your problems at a time like this, but let’s say you’re right and your partner was murdered. Why an old case? Why not the McGraw kidnapping? One of the kidnappers is still at large. If your partner knew something and made inquiries that alerted the kidnapper...”

      He was winging it, but he saw that at least she was considering it. Of course, there was also the chance that Hank Knight’s death was just an accident. That the man had merely been curious about the McGraw kidnapping case. That all of this was a waste of time.

      But Boone had always gone on instinct and right now his instincts told him he had to get this woman to help him. If Hank had been telling the truth and he’d left town, then maybe where he’d gone would lead them to Jesse Rose—and her partner’s killer.

      * * *

      ACROSS THE STREET from the Knight Investigations office, Cecil Marks slumped down in his vehicle to watch the office of Knight Investigations. He’d been worried when he’d heard that there might be a break in the kidnapping case. That some private investigator in Butte might know not just where Jesse Rose was, but might also know who was the second kidnapper—the one who’d handed the babies out the window to the man on the ladder.

      After twenty-five years, he’d thought for sure that the truth would never come out. Now he wasn’t so sure. He’d known that Boone McGraw was like a dog with a bone when it came to not letting go of something. The moment he’d heard about Hank Knight and Knight Investigations, he’d known he had to take care of it.

      Once he came to Butte and found out that Hank Knight was retiring, he’d told himself that no one would tie the kidnapping to the old PI.

      But unfortunately, he hadn’t known about the man’s partner. It was her up there now with Boone McGraw. He doubted they would find anything. He hadn’t when he’d searched the office, and he’d been thorough. He’d left the place in such a mess, even if he had missed something, he doubted it would turn up now.

      It was cold in his truck without the motor running, but he didn’t want to call attention to himself. As badly as he wanted to go back to the motel where he was staying, he had to be sure they didn’t find anything. Once Boone went back to Whitehorse, he figured he wouldn’t have to worry anymore.

      He told himself that the little gal partner, C.J. West, wouldn’t be searching the office if she knew anything. Also if she knew, he would have heard by now.

      She suspected the hit-and-run hadn’t been an accident. But there was no proof. Nor did he think the cops were even looking all that hard. He’d seen something on the news and only a footnote in the newspaper. Hank Knight had been a two-bit PI nobody. Look at that heap of an office he worked out of.

      He tried to reassure himself that he was in the clear. That nothing would come of any of this. He’d done what he’d had to do and he would do it again. His hands began to shake at the thought, though, of being forced to kill yet another person, especially a woman.

      But if she and Boone didn’t stop, he’d have no choice.

      * * *