Killer Cowboy. Carla Cassidy

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      Adam quickly joined her and together they moved more of the hay, exposing Sam Kelly, one of the new hires. Cassie stumbled backward in horror.

      It was obvious the man wasn’t just dead drunk. He was dead. He lay on his back, his blue eyes unseeing, and a pool of blood surrounded the back of his head.

      Shivers shot up her spine and bile rose up in the back of her throat. “Oh, no,” she whispered faintly. Adam grabbed her and quickly guided her out of the barn.

      “He’s dead,” she said and heard the beginning of hysteria in her own voice. She gulped in several deep breaths in an effort to calm herself, but it didn’t work.

      “Oh, my God, he’s dead. He’s dead, Adam.”

      Adam put his arms around her and she leaned weakly against him as tears burned hot at her eyes. How had this happened? Sam had been an affable young man who had instantly fit in with the other men.

      What had happened to him? Dear God, who had done this to him?

      “Cassie.” Adam smoothed her hair away from her cheek. “We need to go back to the house and call Dillon.”

      Still she clung to him, the vision of Sam horrifying her as she thought of the seven skeletons that had recently been discovered beneath the old shed they’d torn down.

      Fifteen years ago somebody had killed those seven young men with an ax or a meat cleaver to the backs of their heads, and those crimes had yet to be solved.

      Was this the beginning of a new spree of death? Had the killer been inactive for all these years only to become active once again?

      She hoped not. Maybe there was something beneath the hay that she hadn’t seen, something sharp and deadly. Maybe Sam had fallen backward and hit his head on that something. But if he’d accidentally fallen, then who had covered his body with hay?

      As Adam led her toward the house she could only pray that Sam’s death was something far different than the evil that had taken place here so many years ago.

      * * *

      Chief of Police Dillon Bowie eased down in his office chair, pulled open his top drawer and grabbed the bottle of aspirin he kept there. He shook two pills out in his hand and chased them down with a swig of cold coffee.

      It was his own fault he had a headache. He’d stayed too long at the barn dance, had drunk one too many glasses of whiskey and soda, and had burned with more than a little jealousy as he’d watched Cassie Peterson dance with practically every man in attendance.

      Every man except you.

      Of course he hadn’t asked her to dance, even though he would have liked to hold her in his arms for just a bit. Since the minute she’d taken over the Holiday ranch, he’d entertained some lusty thoughts about the petite blonde, but they had remained just thoughts without any follow-through.

      He leaned back in his chair and took another sip of his coffee. For the moment there was nothing pressing on his desk. The last six months had been a frenzy of crimes that had kept him busy and on edge. But nobody was in danger right now that he knew about, and he looked forward to just having some time to breathe.

      While the fifteen-year-old crime that had taken place on the Holiday ranch continued to torment him, he had no leads to follow at the moment.

      He finished his coffee and then leaned forward and glanced through the reports that had come in overnight, seeing nothing earth-shattering. Most of the time crime-fighting in Bitterroot wasn’t that challenging. There was an occasional domestic dispute or theft, and speeding down Main Street was a fairly common occurrence.

      If things continued to stay quiet then maybe he could get some things done that he’d been putting off...like getting a haircut and doing a little maintenance work around his house.

      A knock fell on his door and his dispatcher, Annie O’Brien, stuck her head in. “Just got a call from Adam Benson. They want you out at the Holiday ranch. One of the ranch hands is dead.”

      Dillon jumped out of his chair. So much for a minute to breathe. “Did he give you any other details?” he asked as the two of them stepped out of his office.

      “Nothing,” Annie replied.

      Dillon walked into the squad room, where several of his men were seated at their desks. “Juan, Mike and Ben, we need to get out to the Holiday ranch. One of the cowboys is dead. You all follow me there.”

      Minutes later Dillon was in his vehicle with two patrol cars following behind him. What now? As if the mystery of seven dead young men on the ranch wasn’t enough.

      It was probably an accidental death with alcohol playing a big part. There had been a lot of people who had imbibed too freely at the barn dance the night before. He’d even thought he might have to arrest Amanda Wright for indecent exposure if her patriotic sparkly bra had followed the way of her blouse.

      Cassie must be beside herself. She’d grown so close to all the men who worked for her. She’d certainly been horrified by the discovery of the seven skeletons on the property, as had the entire town.

      What had happened on the Holiday ranch all those years ago, and who was responsible for the carnage? It was a question that would haunt Dillon until he had the answer, and he was convinced the answer lay with one of Cassie’s cowboys.

      He turned into the entry of the Holiday ranch and hoped that this was nothing more than a tragic accident. He parked close to the back porch of the house and Cassie and Adam walked out the door before he got out of his car.

      Cassie looked achingly fragile and the sight of her tightened a ball of tension in his stomach. He left the car and approached the couple.

      “He’s in the barn,” Cassie said. “It’s Sam Kelly.” Tears glistened in her bright blue eyes. “We think he was murdered.”

      Dillon’s heart fell to the ground. “What makes you think that?”

      Adam turned to Cassie. “Why don’t you go back inside the house? I’ll take Dillon down to the barn.”

      Cassie looked at Dillon for confirmation. He nodded. “Go ahead. I’ll be in to talk to you later.”

      They both watched as Cassie turned and disappeared inside the house. When the back door closed, Adam turned back to Dillon.

      “Cassie and I went to the barn earlier to see what kind of cleanup needed to be done after last night. When we found Sam, we came right back to the house. I called Sawyer and he’s standing guard at the door to make sure nobody else enters the barn.”

      “Thanks,” Dillon replied. Dammit, there was enough DNA in that barn to keep a lab busy for ten years. And that was only going to make a murder investigation even more difficult.

      He and Adam headed to the barn with Dillon’s officers following just behind them. Several of Cassie’s cowboys were gathered around the barn doors, all of them wearing sober expressions and all of them a potential suspect if this was, indeed, a case of murder.

      He didn’t even want to think about the fact that everyone who had attended the barn dance would now be a suspect. “Adam СКАЧАТЬ