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  “Yes,” she answered absentmindedly. “Did your investigating officers find a pill bottle next to her body, or anywhere in the cabin?”

  “No, but drug addicts often purchase their pills from their dealers in plastic bags. There were no baggies near your sister’s body, if that’s to be your next question. There were some in the kitchen trash can, however, and they had her fingerprints on them.”

  “That doesn’t mean those bags had held drugs. I have plastic baggies in my kitchen trash can, too, and I don’t take drugs. What can you tell me about Jamie’s boyfriend, Adam Echo Hawk? Did you speak to him?”

  “Of course we did. Mr. Echo Hawk had an airtight alibi for the night your sister died.”

  “What was his alibi?”

  Tavares cleared his throat. “He was with another woman.”

  Taylor sighed, not surprised that Jamie had chosen yet another man who hadn’t treated her well. “And this other woman confirmed that this guy was with her, I assume?”

  “Yes. They were together starting around four in the afternoon. According to his statement, he and your sister had an argument and he ended up spending the night with a previous girlfriend.”

  “If that woman was his former girlfriend, how do you know she wasn’t lying to protect him?”

  Tavares smiled, but she felt patronized when he chided, “Believe me, Miss Young, the officers in my department are trained professionals. We have our ways of checking and double-checking on things like this. There were witnesses who corroborated Adam Echo Hawk’s whereabouts from four p.m. through the following morning.”

  Taylor took a small notepad from her purse and scribbled in it. “Could I please have the addresses of that woman and Adam Echo Hawk?”

  “I can’t give out personal information on citizens who haven’t been charged with any crime, Miss Young, but I can tell you Mr. Echo Hawk’s last known address was the Slash Y Ranch. I don’t know where he’s at now.”

  “You’re telling me he was living with Jamie at the time of her death?”

  “Yes.”

  Taylor knew Will had built a cabin for Jamie to live in on “the back forty” as they called that part of the ranch. But had he known her boyfriend was shacking up with her? There hadn’t been enough hours in the day yesterday for her to go to the cabin, but it now became an item on her list of things to do. “What about Echo Hawk’s ex-girlfriend? Can you at least give me her name?”

  He thought a minute. “I don’t see why not. She wasn’t charged with anything. But I can’t tell you where she lives. You’ll have to find that out on your own.”

  “Don’t worry. I will.”

  He smiled again and admiration flashed behind his dark eyes. “Her name is Patty Hanson.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff,” Taylor said, writing the name in her notebook and rising from the chair. There wasn’t much more she needed from him at the moment. “I appreciate your time.”

  “My pleasure.” His gaze moved up and down her body, though subtly. He rose and came around the side of his desk.

  “I can find my way out,” she assured.

  As she turned to leave, he said, “Would you care to join me for supper sometime, Miss Young? Tomorrow evening, perhaps?”

  She craned her head over her shoulder. He was an extremely handsome man. And charming. Why was it that in L.A. she hadn’t had a date in months, but here in Montana she’d received two invitations from two different men in less than twenty-four hours?

  “Thanks, Sheriff, but I’m only home for a short time. What if we really hit it off? I live in Los Angeles.”

  “I only asked you to supper,” Tavares chuckled. “I didn’t propose marriage.”

  She felt her cheeks heat and flame with embarrassment.

  “Take my business card,” he said, handing her one. “Call me if you have any other questions—or if you change your mind about supper.”

  She smiled. “Thank you. Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye,” he called after her.

  “Jeez, that was mortifying,” she grumbled, sweeping out the front door and striding to the rental car and unlocking it.

  “I don’t believe it,” said a masculine voice behind her. “The prodigal daughter has returned home.”

  Taylor’s heart stopped. She’d recognize that voice anywhere, even after six long years. Turning around slowly, she clutched her purse close to her body and felt her pulse accelerate. Though he was older and his face was tanner than she’d ever seen it, Clint looked the same as in the poster she’d seen yesterday. He flicked a cigarette into the gravel and ground it out with his shoe.

  “Hello, Clint. I see you haven’t given up that nasty habit.”

  “I’ve tried everything, but it’s a tough habit to break. I suppose that could be said for most anything that gives a person pleasure. I heard you were back in town, Tay.”

  “I’m sure your fiancée ran straight to you and gave you the news yesterday as soon as she left the western store. And please don’t call me Tay. You gave up the right to use my nickname years ago.”

  He nodded. “Sorry. That’s another old habit. Erin did tell me she saw you.” He took her in from head to toe. “And I have to tell you, I was in a state of shock, since you left Prosperity vowing you’d never step foot here again.”

  “Yeah, well, things change. My sister died, in case you weren’t aware.” She kept her gaze narrowed on him and curled her lip in a smirk for good measure.

  Clint chewed at his bottom lip. “I do know about Jamie. I also know you didn’t come back for her funeral.”

  “What I do or don’t do isn’t your business and hasn’t been for six years,” she gritted.

  “Let’s not reopen old wounds.”

  She angled her head. “Why not? My wounds were raw for a long time. I went through a mountain of heartache because of you, and you never once apologized.”

  He slid a hand through his hair and then looked her direct in the eyes. “I apologize, Taylor. I’m sorry for the mountain of heartache I caused you.”

  “About six years too late,” she groused, not believing him to be sincere. His overdue apology meant nothing. She was long over Clint, but was slightly curious as to where he’d been all these years. “I was surprised to see you’re running for CEO,” she said, changing the subject. “I thought you’d left town a long time ago.”

  A smug grin stretched across his face. “I was in Idaho for a few years, but I’ve been back in Prosperity for about eight months. Just enough time to get engaged and throw my name into the ring for CEO. I figure I have as good a chance as anyone in this town to get elected, seeing how Granddad was CEO for so many years.”

  Eight months! Why hadn’t Mama or Will warned her he was around? There had been plenty of time yesterday or last evening for one of them to mention it. She reached deep inside for composure, but her annoyance at them and Clint mushroomed into her shooting off her mouth.

  “Your granddad was a fine, honest, and hard working man. He was squeaky clean, as far as I ever knew. That can’t be said for you. After the scandal you caused in this town, how do you expect to land enough votes to get elected?”

  Clint’s smile faded and she saw his lip quiver; a sure sign he was agitated and trying to keep his temper in check. “I still have a lot of friends here. Anyway, I have nothing better to do than run for a town position, and I don’t care what people think of me.”

  “That was apparent by the way you handled your affair with my sister. Everyone in this town knew about it, except me. Jamie was as much at fault as you, but at least she had the guts to finally tell me what was going on.”

  His gaze flew to the ground where he kicked some pebbles around with his shoe. “I’m a changed man now.”

  “Is that so?” She fisted her hands upon her hips and realized if there’d been a big rock somewhere close by, she’d hit him with it.

  He delicately moved the subject back to Jamie. “It was a terrible shock, her death. I’m truly sorry for your loss,” he s
aid, obviously trying to appear sorrowful but doing a pitiful job of it, in her opinion.

  “My loss is also your loss,” she said, unable to hold back from impaling him with more sharp words. “Jamie was your sister-in-law and mistress. She must have meant something to you.”

  “Of course she did.”

  Something about his tone triggered a thought. She stared, wondering if he’d seen Jamie before she died. If they’d met after he became engaged to Erin, even as friends, Erin wouldn’t have been pleased. If Clint had gotten together with Jamie and slept with her again, he definitely wouldn’t have wanted Erin to find out. But at what cost? If Jamie had threatened to tell Erin, Clint might have warned her to keep her mouth shut or else. Or else what? He’d shut it for her permanently?

  Taylor may have been stretching her imagination and taking liberties where there were none, but she had to consider everyone Jamie had been involved with as a suspect.

  Clint inhaled through his nose and looked off into the sun for a moment. “Let’s not start something right here in the street, Taylor. I know how your temper can get the best of you.”

  Her core temperature soared at his smug comment. But he was right. Her temper had gotten her into more than one mess in her life. She wasn’t looking for trouble today. Clint Sheridan wasn’t worth the effort or the rise in her blood pressure. “I’m not starting anything. I’m ending it. Again.” She jerked open the car door and slid onto the seat. When he moved forward, the door hit him in the leg as she slammed it shut.

  “Ouch! Watch it, Taylor! That hurt.”

  “Go tell someone who gives a damn,” she said before jamming the key into the ignition and squealing away.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Having closed its doors sometime in the early nineteen seventies, the American West Gallery was located in the former Prosperity movie theatre and had been magnificently renovated in the past year. Now decorated in art deco style, Taylor felt right at home when she stepped through the front door.

  After a few minutes of meandering around the large space and admiring the contemporary art and sculpture on display, she was joined by a woman wearing a brightly colored caftan. Her golden hair, kinked into tight ringlets, resembled a helmet on her head. Her wrists tinkled with many metal bracelets, and she wore patchouli perfume, which Taylor associated with flower children because of several women she knew in L.A. who wore patchouli and could only be described as modern-day hippies.

  “Good morning. Do you have any questions about the art?” the woman asked.

  Taylor smiled. “It’s a beautiful gallery you have here.”

  “Thank you. It took a lot of fundraisers and getting a ton of licenses and approvals to renovate, but I think it’s finally paying off. Word is spreading to the outlying communities and we’re starting to get some wonderful artists in to exhibit their unique work.” She extended her hand to shake. “My name is Sage, the owner. And before you ask, Sage is my legal and only name.”

  Taylor pumped her hand in a firm shake. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Taylor Young.”

  The expression on Sage’s face answered Taylor’s first question, which was going to be if she knew her sister. “I’m Jamie’s older sister,” she informed her.

  “I’m happy to meet you. I still can’t believe she’s gone,” Sage said with sincerity. “Jamie was two weeks away from exhibiting her photos here.”

  “My mother told me. Where are the photos?”

  “They’re in storage upstairs. I contacted Mr. Banner, but he’s never come to pick up the work.”

  “Really? I would have thought my mother would insist on having Jamie’s photographs at home.”

  A drop of perspiration dampened Sage’s brow. “I was planning on contacting them again very soon. I thought I’d give them a little more time…to grieve. I didn’t want to be a nuisance.”

  Taylor noticed she was wringing her hands—the sign of nervous energy. It occurred to her that Sage might have been keeping Jamie’s photos on purpose. Maybe she’d been planning to take advantage of the scandal and profit off Jamie’s photos when the time was right. Normally, Taylor was not a suspicious person, but she had to think like a detective and suspect everyone who had anything to do with Jamie, if she was going to catch her murderer.

  “If it’s not too much trouble, may I see the photos?” she asked.

  Sage hemmed and hawed. “Uh. Well. Sure. Let me lock the front door and I’ll take you up. I’m the only one here at the moment.”

  Taylor waited while Sage fished a set of keys from the pocket of her caftan and glided to the front of the building and locked the door. “Follow me,” she said, leading the way into a hallway and up a short flight of stairs that opened into what was formerly the projector room. With the flick of a switch, the room was bathed in light. “Here they are.” Sage swept her hand over more than a dozen framed photos sitting on the floor and propped against the wall.

  “Why aren’t they wrapped?”

  “Jamie brought them wrapped, but she and I took off the papers while we were deciding which pieces would go into the exhibit. I haven’t had time to rewrap them. I was planning to—”

  Taylor interjected, completing her sentence. “As soon as my parents were ready to pick them up.”

  “That’s correct.”

  Taylor knelt and carefully sorted through the photos that had obviously been taken on and around the ranch. She viewed each one with a wondrous eye. There were images of the ranch horses, cattle, trees, Fish Creek, panoramas of mountains, sunrises and sunsets, wire and fence posts, the entrance to a cave, still life of cowboy boots, a gray cat, architectural details of the barn, their old tire swing, and even pictures of the Slash Y ranch hands in various poses. Charlie Keller’s bashful smile filled one frame. Dash Bullion and two other wranglers had been snapped roping and branding calves. Others were shown riding colts and bucking broncos, stacking hay and brushing their mounts.

  Taylor’s heart flew into her throat when she came across a photo of Brett, sitting on top of his paint horse, Bill, tipping his hat at the camera. His smile sparkled back at her, and his playful attitude was captured perfectly.

  Another picture showed him sitting on the ground leaning against a saddle in a sexy pose with his legs bent and his Stetson shading his eyes. And a third was of him standing in front of the foreman’s cabin holding the same gray cat Taylor had seen in another piece. He was wearing different shirts in all the pictures.

  Brett had said he didn’t know Jamie well. If they weren’t well acquainted, why had he posed for her at least three times? They must have talked and gotten to know one another somewhat during those sessions. But he’d made it sound like he barely knew her.

  Had he lied about having a relationship with Jamie? Or had it strictly been business? Obviously, Brett’s good looks and great body made for perfect model material. Still, Taylor didn’t like being lied to, even if it was by omission. After the way Brett flirted with her last night, the thought of him and Jamie together made her more than a little uncomfortable. Even so, there was no denying Jamie had an eye for capturing her subject matter in a beautiful and artistic way.

  “She really had talent,” Taylor mumbled, momentarily forgetting Sage was still in the room.

  “I was very much looking forward to exhibiting your sister’s work. It’s such a shame no one will get to experience her gift.”

  It sounded strange to hear someone praising Jamie for possessing a gift for something other than causing havoc. And to think that talent involved photography, just like her…

  Taylor should have felt perturbed that Jamie had, once again, taken something that belonged to her and made it her own. She’d been angry with her for so long for that very thing. But oddly enough, those feelings seemed to have dissipated somewhat since making up with Mama and “seeing” Jamie in her spirit form. No matter how upset she’d been with her, Taylor never would have wanted her sister to have suffered at the hands of a murderer. Maybe it was time to let g
o once and for all.

  An idea sparked and steadily caught flame as Taylor sorted through the last of the photos. She turned to Sage. “Why don’t you go ahead with the show?”

  Sage’s eyes enlarged. “You know, I had considered that possibility. But since I hadn’t heard from Mr. or Mrs. Banner, I let the idea drop. Would you be willing to talk to them about it? I really would like the community to see Jamie’s work.”

  “Sure. I’ll see what they think.” Taylor stood up. “Let me ask you a question. Did my sister seem excited about the exhibit?”

  “Excited? She was over the moon with anticipation. She wanted to be involved in every step of the process. That’s why it’s so unfortunate she never got to see her dream come true.”

  It looked like Mama was right—about this part of Jamie’s life, at least. “Thank you for letting me look at these,” Taylor said. “If you don’t mind keeping them for a while longer, I’ll speak to my mother and stepfather and get their opinions on whether to go ahead with a show and get back to you.”

  As soon as Sage led Taylor downstairs and they said goodbye, Taylor’s cell phone rang. Stepping outside, she glanced at the I.D. and didn’t recognize the number. “Hello. Taylor Young speaking.”

  “How are ya?” Hearing Brett’s smooth drawl evoked the same feelings of desire she’d experienced last night. But a slow burn sizzled inside at wondering why he’d lied to her about Jamie. “How did you get this number?” she said, unable to squelch a small smile.

  “A little birdie gave it to me.”

  “By any chance, could that little birdie’s name be Nancy?”

  “Could be.”

  His warm chuckle was music to her ears, despite her mild irritation.

  “Your mother told me you went to town early. Did you speak to Rick Tavares?”

  “Yes. I squeezed a couple of interesting tidbits out of him.”

  “Such as?”

  “Jamie’s boyfriend was with another woman the night she died. And I have the woman’s name.”