Confessing to the Cowboy - By Carla Cassidy Page 0,55

by with the help of Maddy Billings’s wallet.”

Denver’s cheeks flushed slightly. “I won’t lie, Maddy has helped me out now and then financially, but I’m done with her and I’m done with her money. I’ve finally discovered my pride.” He tilted his chin upward.

“Then talk to me about your new truck, about the fifty-thousand-dollar deposit in your bank account,” Cameron said.

Once again Denver appeared shocked. “You’ve checked my bank account?”

“I’d check your underwear if I thought it would lead me to the killer,” Cameron replied drily. “Now, talk to me about that money.”

“It was an inheritance from my grandfather. I’ve got all the papers at my place. You can check it out. It’s all legit,” Denver exclaimed, rising half out of his chair. He eased back down and looked Cameron straight in the eyes. “It’s what gave me the courage, the freedom, to finally break away from Maddy, the freedom to find out who I am as a man, but one thing I know for sure is that I had nothing to do with those women’s deaths. I cared about those women.”

There was a truth that rang in his words and shone from his eyes, a truth that Cameron reluctantly found himself believing. “Bring me the paperwork all about your inheritance,” he said, disappointed that he was fairly certain Denver Walton had just slid off the top of his suspect list, leaving him few people left to investigate and a murderer to catch before he killed again.

* * *

For the first time in years Mary got up, got dressed and then laid back on the sofa to rest her feet before beginning the day. Matt awakened her when he came in to tell her he was leaving for school and asked if she were sick.

She jumped up from the sofa, stunned by the relative lateness of the hour and assured her son she wasn’t sick, but just a sleepyhead who had fallen back asleep after getting up and dressed.

It was almost eight-thirty by the time she hurried from her back rooms and into the café kitchen, where things were already in full swing.

Rusty manned the grill like an old pro while waitresses turned in orders at a pace that let her know the café was unusually busy.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said as Rusty raised an eyebrow in her direction. “I got up and then fell back asleep on the sofa. Thankfully Matt woke me before he left for school.”

“Sleeping in...that’s a first.”

“I guess I stayed up too late last night.” After thinking she saw somebody around the cabins, she’d had trouble going to sleep and knew it had been after two before she finally drifted off into a dreamless sleep. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going,” Rusty replied. “Junior didn’t show up for work, I figure he got his schedule screwed up again.”

Mary nodded. It wasn’t unusual for Junior to occasionally not show up for a shift because he’d gotten confused about what shift he was supposed to work. “He’ll probably show up around two for the evening shift. You need help with prepping or anything? I can take over Junior’s jobs if you need me.”

“Nah, hope you don’t mind but when it became obvious that Junior wasn’t going to show up I called in James to bus tables through the lunch hour.” James Waldron was a high school graduate who worked for Mary whenever possible.

“Sounds like you have everything under control.”

Rusty flashed her a quick smile. “That’s why you pay me the big bucks.”

Mary laughed as she left the kitchen and moved into the café dining area where the breakfast rush was winding down. George Wilton was at the cash register, paying for “the worst breakfast he’d ever had in his life,” Marianne and Bob Unger lingered over coffee. The middle-aged married couple came in every Monday for breakfast and after all their years of marriage it was still obvious that they only had eyes for each other.

John and Jeff Taylor, the twins who had recently moved to the area from someplace back east, were chatting to the couple seated at the table next to them. Brandon Williams sat alone at a table for two, a chair pulled aside to accommodate his motorized wheelchair.

She felt sorry for the vet, who had lost the use of his legs in a bomb explosion that had also left his face scarred. Once when visiting with him for a moment she’d noticed what appeared to be makeup on his forehead and realized he’d apparently made