Confessing to the Cowboy - By Carla Cassidy Page 0,79
indefinitely. There was no indication that Cameron and his team would solve this case anytime soon.
The whistling kettle pulled her back into the kitchen where she fixed a cup of tea and carried it into the main café area. She placed Junior’s cell phone on the counter near the register to lock up before she left for the night and then sat at a table in the center of the dimly lit room and looked around.
Violet Grady had not only been a member of the founding family of Grady Gulch, but she’d also been Mary’s personal angel. The old woman had not only taken in Mary and Matt when Mary was destitute, but she’d also provided the means for Mary to give Matt a future.
She would dishonor Violet if she chose to run again. She would dishonor all the people who had worked here all day long today to give her back her home.
Where are you, Jason? How she wished she had the answer. How she wished Cameron and his men had some kind of clue to get her ex-husband behind bars.
She wanted this over. She wanted to be able to move back into her rooms, run her café and throw herself back into the life she’d had before murder and a monster had stolen away the joy.
She took a sip of her tea and then frowned as she heard a sound coming from one of the bathrooms. Was the women’s restroom toilet running again? She set her cup down with a sigh of irritation. It had been a chronic problem over the past couple of months.
Remaining seated, she decided she’d finish her tea and then go in and jiggle the handle and if that didn’t work then first thing in the morning she’d call Steve Taggart, the local plumber to come in and fix the darned thing for good.
As she sipped her tea she tried to keep her mind empty of thoughts of murder or Cameron. Both topics made her anxious in completely different ways.
Thinking about the murders and Jason created a block of ice inside her stomach where thoughts of Cameron created a pit of fiery heat.
She was too tired to entertain thoughts of either emotions. She just wanted Cameron to pick her up and take her to his place where she would withdraw into his pretty and peaceful guest bedroom until morning.
Once again she heard a strange noise, a whirring noise that didn’t belong above the soft hum of the refrigerator unit or the rhythmic faint click of the large clock that hung on a nearby wall.
Shoving her chair back she stood as she tried to identify the sound that appeared to be drawing closer. She gasped in surprise as Brandon Williams wheeled around the corner from the bathrooms.
“Brandon! Oh, my gosh, I didn’t realize you were still here,” she said.
He rubbed his stomach and smiled ruefully. “Apparently something didn’t sit quite right with me.” He looked around with a frown. “Looks like you closed the place down for the night.”
“I did. It’s sleeting outside, Brandon. Maybe you need to sit with me and wait until Cameron picks me up and we’ll see if he can get your scooter in his trunk or something. I don’t know if you can go in the scooter on the ice that is accumulating.”
“That’s not going to be a problem, Samantha.”
Samantha?
Mary stared in horror as Brandon stood up from the scooter and pulled a long knife from the side pocket of his motorized chair. “I don’t think there’s going to be much of anything left here for Cameron to pick up.”
Chapter 16
The traffic accident was a nightmare of whirling cherry lights, stinging sleet and rescue workers and accident victims slipping and sliding on the icy road.
This particular sharp curve just outside of town was treacherous under the best of conditions. It had been here on a rainy night that Courtney Chambers had missed the curve and flown off the ridge and into the trees below. Of course, she’d been drugged at the time by somebody who had wanted to kidnap her baby.
He shoved aside thoughts of that particular crime, glad that at least it had been solved with a happy ending and the sick woman responsible for the accident was behind bars.
He needed to focus now on the two screaming men who had been the drivers of the two cars and were now each pointing fingers at the other with blame. Wilma Simpson sat sobbing in the front passenger seat of