Crime Scene at Cardwell Ranch - B.J. Daniels [65]
It was Roadside Café owner and former cook Leroy Perkins. "You were asking about Ginger's old roommate the other day," Leroy said. "I finally remembered her name. Zoey Skinner. I asked around. You'd be surprised how much cooks know about what's going on. The good ones anyway can cook and listen." He laughed. "Zoey's working at a café in West Yellowstone. The Lonesome Pine Café."
"Thanks." Hud broke the connection and looked over at Dana. "I need to go up to West Yellowstone. I'll be back before you get off work." He hesitated. "I was hoping we could have dinner together."
"Is that what you were hoping?" she asked with a smile.
"Actually, I was hoping you would come back to the cabin tonight. I could pick up some steaks…But maybe that's moving too fast for you." He gave her an innocent grin. "I can't stand having you out of my sight."
"I told you I'll be safe at the shop," she said.
"I wasn't thinking of your safety."
She met his gaze and felt that slow burn in her belly. "Dinner at your cabin sounds wonderful. I just need to go home and feed Joe."
"I'll stop off and feed Joe and then pick you up at the shop," he suggested.
She knew he just didn't want her going back to the ranch house. The thought of it did make her uncomfortable, but it was still her home—a home she was fighting to keep. "I at least need to go out to the ranch and pick up some clothes. Why don't you meet me there?"
She could see he didn't like that idea.
"I'll be waiting for you at your house," he said.
She didn't argue. She felt safe believing that no one would attack either her or Hud in broad daylight. But once it got dark, she would think again of the doll in the well and remember that she was more than likely the target. It chilled her to the bone to think of what could have happened if she hadn't gone up there with the shotgun.
"Just be careful, okay?" Hud said.
"You, too." She touched his cheek and ached to be in his arms again. Whose fool idea was it to take things slow?
* * *
AS HUD PULLED INTO the lake house, he found his father shoveling snow.
"I don't see you for years then I see you twice in two days?" Brick said with a shake of his head as Hud got out of the patrol car.
Brick set aside the snow shovel he'd been using on the walk. "I suppose you want to talk. It's warmer inside."
Without a word, Hud followed.
"I could make some coffee," Brick said, shrugging out of his coat at the door.
"No need." Hud stood just inside, not bothering to take off his boots or his coat. He wouldn't be staying long.
Brick slumped down onto the bench by the door and worked off his boots. He seemed even smaller today in spite of all the winter clothing he wore. He also seemed stoved-up as if just getting his boots off hurt him but that he was trying hard not to let Hud see it.
"So what's on your mind?" Brick said. "If it's about the robbery again—"
"It's about Stacy Cardwell."
Brick looked up from unlacing his boots, cocking his head as if he hadn't heard right. "What about her?"
"She admitted that she helped set me up the night the judge was killed five years ago."
Brick lifted a brow. "And you believe her?" He let his boot drop to the floor with a thud as he rose and walked stocking-footed toward the kitchen.
"She said she did it so she wouldn't have to go to jail," he said, raising his voice as he spoke to his father's retreating back.
Brick didn't turn, didn't even acknowledge that he'd heard. Hud could hear him in the kitchen running water. He stood for a moment, the snow on his boots melting onto the stone entryway. "Did you hear me?"
"I heard you." Brick appeared in the kitchen doorway, an old-fashioned percolator coffeepot in his hand. "I'm going to make coffee. You might as well come on in. You can't hurt the floor." He turned his back, disappearing into the kitchen again.
"Well?" Hud said after he joined him. The kitchen was neater than it had been yesterday. He wondered if his father had cleaned it because of Hud's visit.
"Sit down," Brick said, but Hud remained standing.
"Were you