Identity: Classified. Liz Shoaf

thing. The man had probably never even had a parking ticket.

      A young, clean-cut guy dressed in a starched police uniform hurriedly got out of the patrol car and rushed toward Ethan.

      “Sir, I got here as quick as I could.”

      And when, exactly, had Sheriff Hoyt called his deputy? Almost as if he could hear her thoughts, he turned his head toward her. “I texted my deputy to come as soon as I saw the bodies.” It shocked her that he could read her so well, but she covered her surprise by holding up her hands. “Did I say anything?” It came out sounding waspish, but she was in a waspish mood. Things were going downhill fast. Ethan motioned his deputy into the motel room, but not before he gave her instructions. The kind of instructions she didn’t like.

      “Stay put. Don’t make me come after you.”

      Her gut was screaming at her to run as fast as she could, but the good sheriff had her picklocks, her gun and, worst of all, her prints.

      She crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine.”

      He gave her one last hard look and disappeared into the room. Thirty minutes later several vehicles pulled up. One man got out of a car carrying a medical bag. She assumed it was the medical examiner. Two men exited the second car carrying an array of cases. They looked like crime scene techs. A few minutes later, Sheriff Hoyt stepped out of the room with a hard jaw and a purposeful stride. He took her by the arm and she jerked it back. She’d give it one last shot.

      “I want my picklocks and firearm returned. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

      He just stood there, looking all grim and tough. Well, she wasn’t in a good mood, either, and jerked the tiger’s tail. She shouldn’t have, given the situation, but couldn’t seem to stop herself. She gave him a saucy grin. “I had to try.”

      He didn’t look amused, and the grin slid off her face as the gravity of the situation hit her. She ran a hand through her short hair.

      “It’s late and I’ll give you two options. We can go back to the bed-and-breakfast and make a nice big pot of coffee for our little informative chat, or we can have bad coffee at the station and spend our time in the interrogation room. Your choice.”

      Another shiver racked her body at the thought of being in a police station, so she chose wisely, but didn’t give in easily. “Fine, we’ll go to the bed-and-breakfast, but you’re going to have to apologize when you catch whoever—” she waved a hand toward room 126 “—did this.”

      * * *

      Silence shrouded the patrol car as Ethan drove them to the B and B. He hadn’t taken the time to run the plate numbers he’d collected earlier, but that was fast becoming a priority. He had a bad feeling that Sam was in this thing up to her eyeballs.

      Sam stared out the window during the short drive. The coroner had offered to give his deputy a ride home. He and Sam could have walked, but after getting shot at and finding two men dead in the motel room, he didn’t feel it was safe, and that angered him. They had their minor incidents, but Jackson Hole had always been a safe town. Now he had a double homicide to solve.

      He parked the car on the side of the street in front of the B and B and cut the engine. He didn’t acknowledge Sam as he dug his cell phone out of his pocket. He hit speed dial, and the babysitter answered on the third ring.

      “Margaret, this is Ethan. I’m sorry to call so late, but I’m going to be tied up awhile.”

      “Is it true? Did you find two dead bodies in the motel?”

      He sighed. Jackson Hole was a small town, and he should’ve known the happenings at the motel would spread like wildfire. “Yes, you heard right. There were two murders at the motel. Listen, can you take care of Penny the rest of the night? And could you swing by my house and pack her enough clothes for several days and bring her to the B and B in the morning? I’ll see that she gets to school. Oh, and pack me a few changes of clothes, if you have time. I sure would appreciate it.”

      “Sure thing, Sheriff.”

      “Thanks, and make sure everything is locked up tight before you turn in. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. Bye.”

      He hung up the phone, lowered his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. The close call with Sam getting shot in her earlobe, then seeing the two dead men, brought death to the forefront of his mind and stirred memories of his deceased wife. He and Penny had finally found a measure of peace after the long, cruel terminal disease had taken Sherri’s life. He’d hoped his small family would thrive and be happy in Jackson Hole, but Sherri, being a city girl, had never quite fit in with the small-town folks. It wasn’t that she thought she was better than the town’s people—she just didn’t fit in, no matter how hard she tried.

      A sharp voice intruded into his thoughts. “Margaret your girlfriend?”

      He opened his eyes, the memories drifting away, and turned his head. He stared at the woman sitting in the passenger seat of the patrol car, a woman his gut was telling him had brought a truckload of trouble with her to Jackson Hole. The first woman since Sherri died who had even remotely caught his interest, not that he’d follow up on it. He wasn’t interested in finding a wife, and even if he was, he didn’t want another city gal, especially one who rode a Harley, had guns and knives stashed on her person, and owned an attack poodle. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Margaret is my babysitter.”

      Her next question volleyed right on the heels of his answer. Sam was a spitfire. “You going somewhere?”

      It took a minute for him to remember she’d heard him speaking to Margaret on the phone. He took grim satisfaction in answering her. “Penny and I will be temporarily staying at the B and B until I can sort things out and get some answers.”

      Her right eye twitched, but she kept her expression neutral. At such a young age, Ethan wondered where Sam had acquired skills that took most detectives years to learn. Hiding your emotions was hard to accomplish, which made him all the more curious about her past.

      “Why were you following me in the first place? You had no right to do that.”

      Deflecting attention away from yourself was another highly coveted skill, one that Sam had learned well.

      He shifted in his seat and turned toward her. “I don’t have to give you an explanation. Now, do we have our chat here at the B and B, or do we go to the station?”

      She fingered her right cuff with her left hand, and he wanted to kick himself for forgetting about the knife she had hidden up her sleeve. She immediately relaxed her fingers when she caught him staring and grabbed the door handle. He thought about taking the knife from her, but let it go for the moment.

      “Fine, let’s get this over with, because I’m shaking this town’s dust off my feet as soon as possible.”

      He grabbed his own door handle. “Fine with me.” And it was fine with him. He didn’t like being even remotely attracted to a woman shrouded in secrets. He had enough to deal with trying to raise his daughter. But he had to admit he was curious about Sam, and he was determined to get some answers. Back at the motel, he’d slipped her gun to his deputy and instructed him to put a rush on running the prints. He’d know soon enough if Sam was in the system.

      Mrs. Denton had given Sam a key, and it was very late when they entered the foyer. He had just stepped over the threshold when she whipped around to face him.

      “I have to check on Geordie before we get started. He probably needs to go to the bathroom.”

      He folded his hands across his chest. “Fine, but make it fast.”

      A glimmer of annoyance appeared in her eyes before she patted his arm and released her inner Southern charm. “Don’t you worry none, I’ll be back in a jiff.”

      He watched her agile leather-clad body take the stairs two at a time. She reminded him of a cat burglar, which was not a comforting thought. He moved into the kitchen and