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glanced down at her
hands automatically. Limp at her sides. Lifeless. At least they
weren’t sporting a pair of steel cuffs.
    “I’ll bring you a copy of Joseph’s will this
afternoon, Ranger Evans,” Hawkins was saying. “I only wish my
memory was better, so I could have simply told you what was in it.
But it has been some time since I’ve examined that particular
document.”
    The ranger looked skeptical. “Don’t leave
town, Miz Cowan,” he said. “We’ll be wanting to talk to you again
real soon.”
    “I can hardly wait,” she said, her words
cool, icy, despite the heat in the room. Surprising, that sharp
tone, coming from a woman who looked as wrung out as she did. Maybe
she didn’t realize that her disguise had melted away. Maybe she
thought she still looked the part. But she didn’t. And the bite to
her words got lost in the vulnerability of her face.
    Adam moved toward her, responding to that
vulnerability the way he always had.
    She held up a hand and stopped him cold. “No.
Madden is driving me home. Thank you both for coming and waiting
and…everything. But I’ll be fine.”
    Right. And pigs would fly. Adam spoke without
forethought. “You can’t seriously think I’m going to…we’re going to
let you go back to that mausoleum alone,” he said.
    She turned her frosty gaze on him—or tried
to. But it wasn’t quite all snow and ice anymore. It was
exhaustion, emotional and physical. And fear and uncertainty. Maybe
even a hint of desperation. And for the first time, Adam thought
maybe the rest of it was all just one big act. What if it was? Not
just now, but all the time? What if she hadn’t really changed at
all deep down inside, underneath the polish and the ice?
    “That’s exactly what I think,” she said in
answer to his question. “I haven’t been charged with anything, and
I have every right to go home if I want to.”
    “Not alone.”
    She met his gaze, held it. Hers wavered
first, and she lowered her head. “Alone is something I need right
now. Try to understand that, would you, Adam? I’ve just lost my
husband.”
    The barb sank deep. Like a hot brand in his
chest. He didn’t think he flinched, but he might have. Just for a
moment he let those words hurt. But the hurt didn’t stop him from
replying, logically, calmly. “The killer could come back.”
    “He’s right, Kirsten,” Garrett interjected.
“You’re the only one who saw him.”
    “I couldn’t identify him if he was standing
in front of me,” she said. “I told you, he had a mask…and the
police have his gun. I’ll be perfectly safe.”
    “You’re right,” Adam said. “You will.”
    Garrett searched his face. So did Kirsten.
But he said no more. He just tipped his hat her way and headed out
of the place.

Chapter 3
     
    Kirsten didn’t like it. She mulled over
Adam’s strange behavior all the way back to Quinn. But as she rode
beside Madden Hawkins in the comfortable leather seat of his car,
she had no idea what to make of it. She only knew Adam was up to
something, and she didn’t like it. She’d ripped the man’s life to
shreds twice now. For crying out loud, hadn’t he had enough? Well,
he wasn’t going to get dragged into this mess. He wasn’t. She
wouldn’t let him. Not this time.
    “I have something to tell you,” the aging
attorney said softly. “And I’m afraid it isn’t good news,
Kirsten.”
    Hawkins drove too slowly. Then again, driving
fast had been one bad habit she’d broken long ago. Not in time,
though. Maybe creeping home at a snail’s pace was some
not-so-subtle reminder from the great beyond of what had gotten her
into this nightmare to begin with. A reminder that if she did wind
up serving a life sentence for murder, it would be no more than she
deserved.
    God, the irony was almost laughable.
    “Kirsten?”
    “Yes.” She turned in her seat to face the
older man. “I heard you. What is it?”
    “It’s about…Joseph’s will.”
    She almost sighed in relief.