From the Shadows (Buckhorn, Montana #2) - B.J. Daniels Page 0,44

she’d met Finn. Before this reunion that brought everyone back. Before Casey had begun to realize that her grandmother had been right. She wouldn’t be at peace as long as Megan’s killer was still out there. As long as she was under suspicion. As long as she had something to hide.

She hated feeling so off balance. She’d been sure of what she wanted when she’d come here. Now... Last night as she’d showered, standing under the warm spray, she’d finally felt herself relax for the first time all day. She’d tried to forget everything, especially Finn. Never had she thought she’d find a man like him in one of the hotel showers.

Was she really up to facing the past? Facing Megan’s ghost? This was what her grandmother had wanted and what she’d forced Casey to promise. Because her grandmother had known she was hiding something?

If Anna Crenshaw could have, she would have conjured up Finn, dangling him in front of her, tempting her, seducing her into doing exactly what she had wanted. Even from the grave, she felt as if her grandmother was still guiding her to do the right thing.

Did Finn suspect that she wasn’t telling him everything? The worst part was that she liked him. He was true to his word, giving her an offer first thing this morning—just as he’d promised. She’d enjoyed their dinner together. She’d found that she enjoyed him in spite of originally thinking he was delusional and dangerous. She still thought he was dangerous—but only because she could see how easy it might be to fall for him. The man was so darned likable.

Finn had spent months in an abandoned hotel trying to solve his old girlfriend’s murder. What woman wouldn’t find that strange but also charming? The man had his... attributes, that was for sure. She’d seen them, and her body had responded against her will.

The thought sent a shiver through her. It had been so long since she’d met someone who’d spurred anything close to desire in her. But she was human. And Finn was all wonderfully male. She couldn’t banish those thoughts any more than she could thoughts of Finn out of bed as well.

While searching the hotel for clues to Megan’s murder, he’d found Anna’s journals. What he’d really been looking for, though, was Megan’s diary. He’d obviously been hoping that Megan would provide the answers he’d needed. He still did.

Megan’s diary had haunted Casey for ten years. At sixteen, all she’d wanted was to find it and destroy it—to protect herself. Back then, she hadn’t been able to imagine anything worse than someone finding the diary and reading the lies Megan had written about her. Megan had taunted her with the awful things she’d said she’d put in that diary about her. Now she wondered if Megan had lied. What if there had been nothing about her in it?

That had never crossed her mind, not ten years ago, not when Megan had seemed hell-bent on destroying her.

Now she felt sick. What if Megan had written about the car wreck, written the truth? Or realized who it was who was stalking her? The name of her killer could have been in that book. If the diary had been found, all of this could have been over years ago, the killer caught and behind bars.

Her heart banged against her ribs. Any chance of finding those answers was lost. No one would ever know what Megan had written. Because the diary was gone.

Casey swallowed, remembering the terror she’d felt the day she’d found it. She knew what would happen if she got caught in Megan’s room—let alone with her diary.

She hadn’t had much time. Maybe if she had, she would have read some of it. Probably not. She’d been too scared she would get caught. Even if Megan hadn’t killed her, she would have gone straight to Anna. Casey knew what her grandmother would have said about her taking the diary—let alone what she planned to do with it.

She’d hurried out of the hotel, running across the parking lot to the outbuilding where they kept the charcoal lighter fluid to start the nightly staff campfire. Everyone else was busy in the kitchen getting ready for the evening meal. If any of the guests saw her at the firepit, they wouldn’t think anything of it.

Dousing the diary with the fluid, she’d then hurried to the pit. Pulling out the matches, she’d struck one and dropped it and the diary in. Flames had