Six-Gun Investigation
“How am I supposed to conduct my investigation when I have to spend all my time worrying about you?”
His face was mere inches from hers, his blue eyes smoky and intense.
“You don’t—” she started, but her voice was swallowed up by the pounding of her heart. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
He touched her bruised neck with a surprisingly gentle fingertip. “Look at this. Of course I have to worry. If something happened to you I’d—”
Anna raised her head, meeting his gaze. His eyes lingered on her lips as his fingers slid around the back of her neck.
She melted inside, overwhelmed by his gentle touch, his quiet, caring words, the naked yearning in his eyes.
Reality tried to break the spell his tenderness had cast. Not him, her brain scolded. Not Texas Ranger Zane McKinney. She had every reason to hate him and no reason at all to trust him. She pulled away from his hypnotic touch.
“I’d better get back to my room.”
“You’re not going anywhere. I can’t trust you out of my sight, so you’re sleeping here.”
MALLORY KANE
SIX-GUN INVESTIGATION
To Delores and Rita—
silver stars in their own right!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mallory Kane took early retirement from her position as assistant chief of pharmacy at a large metropolitan medical center to pursue her other loves, writing and art. She has published and won awards for science fiction and fantasy as well as romance. Mallory credits her love of books to her mother, who taught her that books are a precious resource and should be treated with loving respect. Her grandfather and her father were both steeped in the Southern tradition of oral history, and could hold an audience spellbound with their storytelling skills. Mallory aspires to be as good a storyteller as her father. She loves romantic suspense with dangerous heroes and dauntless heroines. She is also fascinated by story ideas that explore the infinite capacity of the brain to adapt and develop higher skills.
Mallory lives in Mississippi with her husband and their cat. She would be delighted to hear from readers. You can write to her c/o Harlequin Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.
Books by Mallory Kane
HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE
620—THE LAWMAN WHO LOVED HER
698—HEIR TO SECRET MEMORIES
738—BODYGUARD/HUSBAND *
789—BULLETPROOF BILLIONAIRE
809—A PROTECTED WITNESS*
863—SEEKING ASYLUM*
899—LULLABIES AND LIES*
927—COVERT MAKEOVER
965—SIX-GUN INVESTIGATION
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Zane McKinney—A Texas Ranger who’s risen to the top of his field. But no accolades can make up for his father’s betrayal. Now, with a woman dead and his father once again the prime suspect, Zane will do anything to find the truth—anything except fall in love with the daughter of the woman who destroyed his family.
Anna Wallace—Sixteen years ago, this investigative journalist’s mother was murdered in the small town of Justice, Texas. Now her sister is dead by the same hand, and the only man who can help her find the murderer is the son of the suspected killer.
Sarah Wallace—Sarah begged Anna to meet in Justice, claiming she had proof of who had killed Lou Ann.
Jim McKinney—The ex-Texas Ranger’s career and life were destroyed when his mistress was found strangled to death.
Stella McKinney—Jim’s long-suffering wife. Does Stella know more than she’s telling?
Leland Hendricks—When his trophy wife’s daughter is murdered, this wheeler-dealer has an airtight alibi.
Donna Hendricks—A reformed alcoholic, Donna lost custody of her toddler son to her ex-husband, Leland. Then the child went missing.
Rosa Buchanan—Employee and confidante of Donna, Rosa would do anything for her friend.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Prologue
For the third time in fifteen minutes, Sarah Wallace reached for her purse—for the cigarettes that weren’t there. She’d quit smoking two weeks ago. Two weeks, and yet she still reached for them whenever she was nervous.
Damn. How would she last for eight more months? She sighed and glanced at the half-eaten sandwich she’d ordered up to her room from the diner next door to the Matheson Inn. Ugh. It had tasted good, but now it sat heavily on her queasy stomach. She dumped the container into the wastebasket and snagged a piece of sugarless gum with the tips of her silk nails.
“I’m doing all this for you, kid,” she whispered as she chewed. Her left hand drifted to her flat tummy. “I’m working on getting rid of the crap in my life, so you and I can start fresh. I’ve got a feeling the cigarettes were easy, compared to the rest.”
Then she turned back to the sheet of hotel paper lying on the desk. Picking up the pen, she quickly read over what she’d written.
Dear Anna,
I’m sitting in this room in Justice, wondering if I’m doing the right thing. It feels right. But here, in the same room where Mom was murdered, I’m beginning to feel a little spooked. Silly, I know, but if you don’t get here very soon I may chicken out and leave.
Hopefully within a few minutes we’ll be reading this together and laughing at my paranoia.
She underlined paranoia three times. She’d gotten a few curious looks when she’d shown up. Hadn’t seen anyone she knew but that didn’t mean someone hadn’t seen her.
She wrote the last lines quickly, and finished with a plea she’d be able to deliver in person in a few minutes.
Hey, Anna-banana, I’m so sorry I left you. I hope you can forgive me. I want us to get past Mom’s death and be a family. We can drink a toast—a non-alcoholic toast—to new beginnings.
She smiled as she signed the note and put it in the safest place she knew, where she and Anna had so often hidden notes to each other.
“Well, kid.” She patted her tummy. Writing the note made her feel better. The apprehension that had squeezed her chest since the moment she’d found out she was pregnant faded.
She glanced at the fake Rolex on her wrist. “Now if your aunt Anna would hurry up and get here…”
It had been weird, talking to her baby sister after all these years. Anna had been cautious and reserved, and with good reason. Sarah had bailed on her after their mother’s murder and headed for Las Vegas. She couldn’t blame Anna for doubting that now, sixteen years later, Sarah regretted abandoning her.
Anna hadn’t even wanted to talk to her, much less meet her in Justice, Texas, where their mother had been murdered—that is until Sarah told her what she’d found.
After a dumbstruck pause, Anna had reluctantly agreed.
“She should be here by now,” Sarah muttered, reaching for her purse. Her hand clenched in a fist. No cigarettes, she reminded herself sternly. You don’t smoke.
She paced instead, working the gum until her jaw ached.
Maybe Anna was right. Maybe this was a stupid idea, coming back to the scene of the crime, so to speak. A frisson of anxiety slid up her spine at the memory of what had happened to her mother in this very room.
She should have followed her first instinct and met Anna in Dallas. But no. She had to make a big production out of it. Blame Lou Ann’s flair for the dramatic, which Sarah had obviously inherited and Anna had not.
Tossing the now flavorless gum into the wastebasket, she stepped over to the window, carefully skirting the area of the floor where their mother had been found on a night like tonight, strangled with her own purse strap.
She peered out through the heavy curtains. It had gotten dark. She cursed under her breath. She’d been in Justice for three hours, and that was two hours and fifty-nine minutes too long. Just as soon as she turned every thing over to Anna, she’d be out of here, one more load of crap lighter.
A sharp rap on the door startled her.
“Thank God!” Anna was finally here. Sarah rushed over and opened the door.
Her heart jumped into her throat when she saw who was standing there.
“You!” she blurted.
“It’s been a long time, Sarah. May I come in?”
Sarah held on to the door. “I suppose I can guess who told you I was here.”
“You know what small towns are like. Nobody can keep a secret.”
“You certainly managed. Go away. I have nothing to say to you.” Sarah took a step backward to push the door closed.
“Hold it. What are you doing here?”
“None of your business. Now leave me alone.” She pushed again, but suddenly the heavy wooden door slammed into her, banging her head and knocking her on her butt.
She scrambled to her feet, slightly dazed, but before she could straighten, pain exploded in her head.
Sarah cradled her belly protectively as everything went black.
Chapter One
Lieutenant Zane McKinney, Texas Ranger, entered the Matheson Inn and stepped into the middle of chaos. The dozen or more people crowded into the small lobby parted like the Red Sea as he stalked toward the registration desk. He felt their eyes on him— surprised and curious. He heard their whispered questions and comments.
What’s Zane McKinney doing here?
Never thought he’d set foot in Justice again. Always was too good for this town.
Reckon he’s here about the murder?
He ignored the whispers and glared at the slouchy desk clerk who seemed oblivious to the crowd, then he turned around, letting his gaze slide over the familiar faces.
“Get on home, folks. There’s nothing to see here.”
The thing about small towns, everybody knew everybody else’s business. It was going to be hard to take charge over former neighbors and high school buddies.
“Zane.” Tommy Driver stepped up and stuck out his hand. “Been a long time. What’s happening? Is that really Lou Ann Wallace’s girl in there?”
Zane shook Tommy’s hand. His dad owned the hardware store and he’d been a basketball star back in high school. “Do me a favor, Tom. Help me clear out the lobby. They’re contaminating the crime scene.”
“It is her, ain’t it? Are you in charge?”
Zane sent Tommy a look, and the tall former basketball player turned toward the crowd and held up his hands. “Come on, y’all. We might as well go home. Zane McKinney’s here now. Everything’s under control.”
Zane heard the thinly veiled sarcasm in Tommy’s voice. As several gasps and a few chuckles rippled through the crowd, he nodded at Tommy, then addressed the desk clerk. “Don’t let anybody else in. Nobody! Got it?”
“No problem, dude,” the twenty-something kid with his thick neck and buzz haircut muttered.
Zane surveyed the lobby as he kept one eye on the people slowly dispersing. The dark polished wood of the floors and staircase lent a rich look to the old mansion that had been converted into an inn long before Zane was born.
There, down the hall beside the stairs, was Room One, the most infamous room in the Matheson Inn—the room where Lou Ann Wallace Hendricks had been murdered sixteen years before.
Now the room would be an even bigger tourist attraction. Now it would be known as the place where Lou Ann and her daughter Sarah had both died.
With a last look around to be sure everyone had cleared out, he walked down the hall and stepped into more chaos. There were at least eight people in the room, not counting the dead body. And that was seven too many.
Annoyed, Zane swiftly cataloged the occupants.
The mayor and Leland Hendricks were standing near the bathroom door with their heads together.
Dr. Jonathan Evans, the only man who should have been there, was kneeling on the floor beside the body.
A young Hispanic man dressed in a T-shirt and sweat-pants was taking photographs with a digital camera.
And on the far side of the room, sitting alone and rigid in a desk chair, was a pale young woman who looked familiar.
Zane heard keys jangling behind him. It was the desk clerk. He slouched in the doorway staring at the corpse with lewd interest. Beyond him in the hall, a couple of young teen boys hung back, trying to get a peek at the shocking scene.
“All right, folks,” Zane said. He didn’t raise his voice, but every eye turned toward him.
The mayor headed his way, with Hendricks following. The guy holding the camera froze. Dr. Evans glanced up, nodded slightly, then went back to his examination.
“I want everybody out of here.” Zane turned toward the boys lurking at the door. “Starting with you two. Go home.”
The two boys backed away, then turned and ran.
“You.” He pointed at the clerk. “What did I tell you? Get back to the desk. Lock the doors. Don’t let anyone in or out. And get me a master key.”
The clerk ran his hand over his bristly hair, and the keys started jangling again. He muttered something unintelligible as he slouched out of the room.
“Zane.” The mayor stuck out his hand. “I was surprised when your captain told me he was sending you, considering…”
“Mayor, Leland, step outside please. This is a crime scene.”
The mayor frowned. Hendricks smirked and took another step toward Zane. “I’m not leaving. I need to be here with my stepdaughter—”
Zane met his gaze. “Now.”
A slow flush rose up Hendricks’s neck to his face and he opened his mouth, but the mayor laid a hand on his arm.
“Come on, Leland. We’ll leave Lieutenant McKinney to do his job.”
Leland Hendricks shook off the mayor’s hand and walked over to the young woman perched on the chair. He whispered something to her and she nodded.
But Zane, who’d spent his career teaching himself to observe everything from body language to eye movements, noticed the quickly masked moue of distaste that crossed her face.
Zane waited until the mayor and Hendricks were gone. He cursed silently. The whole damn inn, including the scene of the murder, was thoroughly contaminated by now.
When Captain Hardy had called an hour before and ordered him to take charge of a murder and attempted murder in Justice, Texas, Zane had been stunned. Not only had a woman been murdered, Sheriff Matheson had been wounded while in pursuit of a possible suspect.
Zane’s shock was well-founded. Nothing ever happened in his hometown—not that he’d know from personal experience. He hadn’t been here recently. He lived in Garland, and while technically Justice was part of his territory, he’d managed to avoid returning to the town where his father lived in disgrace.
But the murder wasn’t the biggest shock—that honor belonged to the victim. It was Sarah Wallace, the daughter of the only other adult who’d been murdered in Justice in the past forty years—Lou Ann Wallace Hendricks. Zane’s gut clenched at the thought of the woman who’d ripped his family apart in life and in death.
Zane had hung up from his captain and immediately called the mayor with specific instructions to keep everyone except Dr. Evans away from the scene of the murder.
But good luck keeping anything quiet in a place like Justice. Another in the long list of reasons he’d sworn never to come back to his hometown.
He stepped closer to the body, examining the familiar face, discolored and contorted in death. Sarah Wallace looked just like her mother. Same brassy-bleached hair, same overdone
makeup, same too tight, too flashy clothes.
His lips thinned in disapproval and aversion. Just like her mother in life and just like her in death.
He’d been away at college when Lou Ann was killed. The most memorable thing about her death was that his father, Jim McKinney, had been indicted.
Only the presence of more than one semen sample in Lou Ann’s body and the double-talk of a slick Dallas lawyer had kept him from serving time. The evidence was ruled insufficient to convict. But for Zane, it was more than enough.
“Who’re you?” he asked the man holding the camera.
“Deputy Sheriff Luis Spinoza.” Spinoza straightened a bit. “I was in bed when the call came.”
Zane nodded. “Give me the camera. Why didn’t you kick the mayor and Hendricks out?” The question was a waste of air. He read the answer in the young man’s face. Just the thought of confronting the mayor of Justice or its most prominent citizen had him cowed.
Zane sighed. “Never mind. Who’s processing the second crime scene?”
“Uh, nobody—sir. That is, not yet. Deputy Enis rode in the ambulance with Carley—uh—Sheriff Matheson—over to Calhoun City, to County General.”
“Call him. Get him back here. The sheriff’s in good hands, and we need the manpower here. Got another camera?”
The deputy nodded. “Back at the office.”
“Did you bring a kit? Crime scene tape?”
“Right over there.” He pointed to a stainless steel case beside the door.
“Good. Tape off the door to this room. Leave me the kit. I assume you have another one.”
The deputy nodded eagerly. “Lieutenant, should I call our other deputy, Burns?”
“You’ve got a third deputy? Where’s he tonight?”
“He’s supposed to be on vacation. He’s building a deck on his house.”
“Call him. Then go secure the area where the sheriff was shot and process it.” Zane looked the deputy up and down. “You do know how to process a crime scene, don’t you?”