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Because she didn't believe they could just pick up where they'd left off. They'd both changed. Didn't they need to get to know each other again—everything else that was going on aside?

And yet even as she thought it, she knew that the chemistry they shared was still there as well as the love. She knew what was holding her back. This investigation. Until Ginger Adams's killer was caught, Dana didn't feel safe. And she had no idea why.

As she drove down the road to the ranch house, she saw the tracks in the snow. Hud would have driven in to feed Joe. But there was at least another set of tire tracks. Someone else had been to the house today.

* * *

ZOEY SKINNER was filling salt and pepper shakers during the slow time between lunch and dinner in the large West Yellowstone café.

Hud couldn't say he remembered her. But she wasn't the kind of woman who stood out. Quite the opposite, she tended to blend into her surroundings.

The café was empty this time of the day, with it being a little too early yet for dinner.

He took a chair at a table in a far corner and glanced out the window at the walls of snow.

The town had changed over the years since the advent of snowmobiles. Where once winters were off season and most of the businesses closed and lay dormant under deep snowbanks, now the town literally buzzed with activity.

A large group of snowmobilers in their one-piece suits, heavy boots and dark-shielded helmets roared past in a cloud of blue smoke and noise.

"Coffee?"

He turned to find Zoey Skinner standing over his table, a menu tucked under her arm, a coffeepot in one hand and a cup in the other.

"Please. Cream and sugar."

Zoey was boney-thin, her arms corded from years of waiting tables, her legs webbed with blue veins although she was no more than in her early forties.

She filled the cup, produced both sugar and cream packages from her apron pocket. "Menu?"

He shook his head. "Just coffee, thanks. And if you have a moment—" he said, flashing his badge "—I'm Marshal Hudson Savage. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

She stared down at the badge, then slowly lifted her gaze to his. "This is about Ginger, isn't it?"

He nodded.

She dropped into the chair opposite his, her body suddenly limp as a rag doll's. She put the coffeepot on the table and cradled her head in her hands as she looked at him.

"I always wondered what happened to her," she said. "I heard that she'd been found in that well and I couldn't believe it."

"When was the last time you saw her?" he asked, taking out his notebook and pen.

"The night she left to get married."

"She was getting married?"

"Well, not right away." Zoey's face softened. "Ginger was so happy and excited."

"Who was she marrying?"

He saw her face close. "She said it was better I didn't know. Better that no one knew until they were married."

He studied the small, mousy-haired waitress. "Why was it so important to keep it a secret?"

"Ginger was afraid of jinxing it, you know? She'd been disappointed so many times before."

He didn't believe that for a minute. "Was it possible this man was married?" He saw the answer in Zoey's face. Bull's-eye. "So maybe that's why she didn't want anyone to know. Maybe he hadn't told his wife he was leaving her yet."

Zoey frowned and chewed at her lower lip. "Ginger just wanted to be loved. That's all. You know, have someone love her and take care of her." He got the feeling that Zoey not only knew who the man was but she also knew something else, something she wanted to tell him and for some reason was afraid to.

He took a shot in the dark. "This man, did he have money? He must have been older. Powerful?" The kind of man a woman like Ginger would have been attracted to.

Zoey looked away but not before he'd seen the answer in her eyes along with the fear. He felt his heart rate quicken. He was getting close. Was it possible the man was still around?

"Zoey, someone threw your best friend down a well, but when that didn't kill her, he