From the Shadows (Buckhorn, Montana #2) - B.J. Daniels Page 0,16

her earlier works. He didn’t want to embarrass her.

Casey appeared more relaxed as if actually enjoying herself once she got some food in her. “You really spent a large portion of the winter here?” she asked, as if as curious about him as he was about her. They hadn’t talked about him making an offer on the hotel yet. It didn’t seem like the time or place. “How was it?”

“Cold, snowy and miserable, but at the same time beautiful in a harsh sort of way. It separates the men from the boys to winter-in, in Montana. I found it rather exhilarating.”

* * *

CASEY HATED TO admit it, but she found being in his company was both exhilarating—and exhausting. He exuded enthusiasm, charisma and pure, unrelenting male sexiness. For a man who said he’d found himself lost and at loose ends, he’d certainly snapped out of it. She said as much, making him laugh.

“All because of the Crenshaw Hotel and your grandmother. I was lost when I got here but became fascinated with the place.” He raised a brow as if seeing her skepticism. “Why do you find that so hard to believe? I was skeptical at first about the place being haunted. Now, not so sure it isn’t.” He grinned, wanting to lighten the mood. “But if Megan’s the one haunting the hotel, I would imagine this reunion will bring her out. Don’t you think that’s what someone had in mind when they planned this?”

Casey had no idea what the planner had in mind and said as much. She also had no intention of hanging around long enough to find out, but still his words made her shudder inwardly. There’d always been stories of ghosts at the Crenshaw for as long as Casey could remember. The stories were passed down each summer season. The young men on the staff always loved to scare the young women—and even some of the guests until her grandmother admonished them.

But after the murder, more and more guests at the Crenshaw Hotel reported seeing a young woman in a white dress stained with blood. Their stories put the Crenshaw on the map as one of the most haunted hotels in the West.

It amazed Casey, who scoffed at even the idea of ghosts, just as she marveled that there really were people who wanted to spend the night in a hotel with an alleged ghost haunting the hallways. Her grandmother had always smiled good-naturedly when asked about the ghosts.

That was why Casey had been so shocked when on her deathbed Anna had sworn that she’d seen Megan. “It was her,” her grandmother had said, gripping Casey’s hand so tightly that it hurt. Casey had felt a chill as she remembered the blonde, blue-eyed and sexy seventeen-year-old Megan Broadhurst had been. It was a memory she feared she’d never be able to forget.

“Gram, it was just your—”

“I saw her. You should have seen the look on her face,” her grandmother cried. “Such torment. It was as if she were begging me to help her. There was blood on her dress, blood in her hair. Casey, that girl can’t rest until her killer is found, and neither can I.” Anna’s words came out choked. “You can’t let that developer who’s been trying to buy the hotel stop you. Once the hotel is demolished... You can still get her justice before it is too late. Do it for me.”

Casey had tried not to scoff. “I manage a hotel. I’m not a detective or—”

“Casey, please. I know about your nightmares. Her killer has to be found before the hotel is turned to rubble, or none of us will ever be free, especially you. Do this for yourself. Do it for me. Promise me.” Her eyes closed, her hand loosening its grip, and for a moment, Casey feared she’d lost her. But then her eyes fluttered open, her hand tightening its hold again. Her grandmother’s glazed eyes found hers again. “Promise me. Promise.”

And she had. Anna’s eyes closed for the last time.

* * *

BENJAMIN TRAVERS HAD found his invitation at the bottom of a stack of mail he’d distractedly thumbed through. He’d seen the return address and vacantly thought it was some type of promotion. It wasn’t until he went to discard it that the invitation fell out from where his assistant had already neatly sliced the envelope open.

Picking up the card, he saw something about the hotel being demolished and read more. He felt disgusted, unable to imagine anything worse