Confessing to the Cowboy - By Carla Cassidy Page 0,66

she poured herself a cup and then joined him at the table.

“No such luck,” he replied. “I’ve got my deputies checking the whereabouts of Denver and a couple of other men at the time of the fire. Thomas Manning apparently got home from Oklahoma City late last night and so he’s not off my hit list of suspects.” Cameron released a deep sigh and motioned to the files before him. “I was just going over everything again for the hundredth time, trying to see if there was something, anything we missed, but so far nothing is popping.”

“Last night was the most up close and personal he’s gotten with me,” she said as she lifted the cup to her lips. As she thought of the fire, of that moment when she feared she wouldn’t be able to get Matt out alive, she needed the hot brew to heat the icy chill that swept through her.

She took a sip and then looked out the window. “Looks like the snow has moved on.”

“Left behind about three inches, but is now heading for Kansas. The roads have been plowed and we’re in good shape. We’re just supposed to stay cold for another day or two and then a warm front is moving in.”

“That will be nice.” It seemed so odd to be sitting at his table talking about the weather with her business, her home, her very life, in utter shambles. She glanced at the clock on the oven.

“I need to get Matt up for school in just a few minutes. Could you drive him there and then drop me off at the café?” she asked.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to take a little time off and keep the café closed for today?” he asked, his concern deepening his voice.

She shook her head vehemently. “He might have burned my sofa, but thankfully, from what you told me last night, the café itself is still ready for business. He doesn’t get to win, Cameron, at least not in me closing down the café. In all the years I’ve owned it we’ve never shut down for a whole day for anything and I’m not about to do that now.”

He held her gaze for a long moment, as if assessing her inner strength. She raised her chin, knowing the kind of strength she had inside her, a survivor strength that had seen her not only through the past nine years but also the years she’d spent as Jason’s abused wife.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll take Matt to school each day and you to the café, and I’ll pick you both up there when you’re finished for the day, but in return you agree to stay here with me until all danger has passed.”

“But that could be months,” she protested. “He could just keep killing waitresses, tormenting me for months...until we’re all crazy.”

“I don’t think so,” he countered soberly. “I think things are coming to a head. Last night he got close...too close. He’s taking bigger chances and I think he’s ready for the main event.”

“I can’t figure out why he just didn’t slit my throat last night. He got into our quarters without me or Matt hearing him. Why not just finish me off then?” She took another drink of the coffee, needing it to battle the coldness that filled her each time she thought of Jason.

“I can’t answer that,” Cameron replied thoughtfully. “Maybe he just wanted one more opportunity to terrorize you completely, a final chance to show you how powerless you are and how powerful he is.” Cameron’s fingers whitened as he gripped his coffee cup handle tightly. “He could have killed you last night and yet he didn’t. He wanted you to know that he holds the ultimate power of life and death where you’re concerned and he decides when it’s time for it to end.”

“I get it,” she replied drily.

“He may be winning the battles, Mary, but that doesn’t mean he gets to win the war,” Cameron said firmly. He set his cup down and instead reached across the table for her hand.

It felt right, his big hand covering her smaller one. She was a strong woman, but Cameron was a strong man and she knew they just might make a good match...if she lived long enough.

* * *

Cameron watched Mary’s face as they entered what had been her living room. The sofa was a melted mass of wood and blackened material, the walls darkened from all the smoke that had unfurled