Lone Star Lonely Read Free

with an urgency she didn’t
understand. Until she glanced down and saw all the blood. Smears
and streaks of a dead man’s blood on her hands, her arms, her bare
feet, her legs. It painted bright patterns on her Versace bikini
and once-immaculate white wrap.
    “Where are you hurt? Where are you hurt?” he
kept asking.
    “It’s not me,” she managed. “It’s Joseph’s
blood. He’s dead.” Control. She had to get control. She was going
to be a quivering mess soon if she didn’t get hold of herself.
    Garrett was in the house. She saw him pass by
the doors in his big hat, weapon drawn, apparently going from room
to room. Searching for the killer, she guessed. He wouldn’t find
him.
    “I told you not to touch anything,” Adam was
saying. Holding her arm, he drew her around the big desk she’d
always hated, and the blood made her feet sticky against the floor
tiles. Adam pressed her into a creaking chair that held the scent
of Joseph’s illegal Cuban cigars. “Damn, Kirsten, why did you pick
up the gun?”
    Adam didn’t smell like cigars. He smelled
like fresh Texas sunshine and new leather. The band of the Stetson
he wore, maybe, or his belt, or maybe his boots. She liked a man
who smelled like leather. Texas men, real ones, usually did. She
lifted her head, met his eyes. Those eyes. She’d seen so much in
them once. But that was over. More over than he could even guess.
And there was nothing in his eyes for her now except speculation
and questions.
    “The killer came back,” she said, and she
thought her voice sounded calm. In control. “He…came at me, and I
just…reacted.”
    Adam’s face remained expressionless. “Did you
fire at him?”
    She nodded. Adam swore.
    Garrett came in then, pausing to shake his
head at the sight of Joseph, then reaching to check for a pulse
just as Kirsten had done.
    “He’s dead,” she told him unnecessarily.
    Garrett looked at her, worry in his eyes.
“There’s no sign of anyone else in the house. Are you all right,
Kirsten?”
    She nodded. Then jerked a little as more
sirens sounded outside. Cars skidded, and men came charging into
the house. Several of them flooded the study, and Kirsten tugged
her wrap more tightly around her and sat still, not cringing, not
cowering, and forcibly not clinging to Adam Brand. She hadn’t
expected Garrett to notify the Texas Rangers right away. She’d
thought he would handle this himself.
    “Kirsten Cowan?” one of them asked.
    She nodded. Garrett stepped up. “I’m the
sheriff here, Ranger. I wasn’t aware you’d been called.”
    “Well, we were. So as long as we’re
here—”
    “It’s my town, Ranger.”
    “It’s a capital crime, Sheriff.”
    Garrett didn’t back down. “Looks like a
suicide to me. But time will tell. Who called you?”
    The ranger shrugged. “Call came from this
number. Caller hung up without giving a name.”
    Kirsten’s blood went cold. “I didn’t call
you,” she muttered. “And no one else was here…except the
killer.”
    Garrett looked at her. The rangers looked at
her. She would have clarified the statement, but she had a feeling
her voice would come out weak and shaky if she tried.
    Then Adam came to the rescue. “It was no
suicide,” he said. “Kirsten saw the killer.”
    One of the rangers came forward with a
plastic bag and picked up the gun, dropping it in. Kirsten was all
too aware that her fingerprints were all over it. Closing her eyes,
she called the killer’s image to mind. Had he been wearing gloves?
Black gloves that matched the rest of his clothes? She thought
so.
    “We’re going to want you to come back to the
El Paso station with us, Mrs. Cowan. Answer some questions.”
    “Garrett….” Adam began.
    Garrett met his brother’s eyes and nodded.
“Ranger, Ms. Cowan is in no state to be answering questions right
now. What do you say we let her get changed, give her some
time—”
    The ranger eyed Kirsten. “No showers. And
we’ll want the clothes you’re