email address that included the name of his company plus her birth year.
Her hands were shaking when she wrote: “Are you there, Q? Call me. We need to talk.”
She typed in the cell number, hit Send and then held her breath. If the message bounced, then it meant Quentin hadn’t kept the account active. After all this time, that was a distinct possibility.
But it didn’t bounce.
That didn’t mean it wouldn’t eventually. It also didn’t mean Quentin would answer right away, or at all, but this was the first step to try to reach him.
“It could take hours for him to respond,” Clayton reminded her. “Why don’t you finish your dinner and then get some rest? I can monitor the computer and the phone. You’re in the guest room just across from my room, so I can come and get you if he calls or emails.”
She wanted to refuse, since she hated putting this unpleasant duty on Clayton’s shoulders, but the truth was, she was exhausted.
“But you need rest, too,” she pointed out. She knew for a fact he’d been battling that headache since the attack at the church.
“I can rest,” he assured her. “The computer will beep if a message comes in.”
Good. It meant he could sleep. Well, maybe. After everything they’d been through today, sleep wasn’t going to be a sure thing.
“Thank you,” she told him, and Lenora finished her glass of milk. Like the lasagna, she didn’t want it, but she couldn’t neglect her health.
“If Quentin calls you back,” Stella said, “maybe Clayton can put the fear of God into him. A badge can do that to some men. Especially men with plenty to hide.”
“A lead bullet makes a stronger impression than a tin badge,” Kirby mumbled.
It seemed an odd thing for a former lawman to say, but Lenora had to agree with him on this. If Quentin was out to kill Clayton and her, then she would do anything to stop him. There was no way she wanted Clayton taking a life and risking death for her again.
They said good-night to the others, and Clayton put the burner phone in his pocket and the laptop under his arm before they made their way up the stairs.
“Tomorrow I’ll need to arrange to talk with Riggs,” Clayton said on the walk to the guest room.
It wasn’t exactly a surprise. She knew Riggs would have to be interviewed, but she dreaded Clayton having any contact with Jill’s killer. But Lenora wanted to hear what Riggs, like Quentin, had to say about this latest shooting.
“I won’t go to the prison, though,” Clayton continued. “I’ll try to set up a computer interview here at the ranch. That way you’ll be able to watch.”
“Thank you.” And she was thankful that they might get some answers, but more than anything she just wanted it to be over because it felt as if someone were picking at all of her old wounds.
Clayton opened the guest-room door and turned on the light for her. Earlier, he’d shown her the room so she knew where it was in the maze of upstairs rooms, but she was surprised and thankful to see the clothes and toiletries lying on the king-size bed. The items hadn’t been there before, and with everything else going on, it had slipped her mind that she had nothing else to wear.
“Dallas’s fiancée, Joelle, sent over the clothes,” Clayton explained. “Not sure if they’ll fit, but maybe you can make do.” And his gaze skimmed over her body.
“Yes,” she mumbled, sliding her hand over her belly. “I’m not exactly thin these days.”
“It suits you.” His gaze moved to her eyes now, and the comment seemed a little more than just a reassurance. It had a trace of the heat they’d been battling all day.
Actually, ever since they’d met.
Clayton cleared his throat. “The Sadler’s Falls sheriff is arranging for someone to get your things from the hotel where you were staying. And your car.” He paused. “That doesn’t mean I want you trying to leave. If you don’t want to stay here for your sake, then I want you to think of the baby.”
Since she had been thinking about leaving, that hit a nerve. “Being here puts you in danger,” she reminded him.
“Your leaving would put me in even more,” he quickly answered. “Because I’d go looking for you. All my brothers would, too, and it’d tie up resources that we should be using to find the person behind the bullets.”
She frowned. Because it made sense.
“We