The Texas Ranger's Family. Rebecca Winters

on the day of a funeral.

      Taking a deep breath, she started her car and pulled into her driveway. She got out and entered the house through the garage as instructed, passing through the small laundry room into the kitchen. Cupboards were open and foodstuffs were on the floor.

      Natalie had only been gone two hours, but it looked as though a wrecking ball had been at work. As she walked through her two-bedroom rambler, she saw that drawers and closets had been ransacked. Her bedding had been thrown on the floor and her mattress lay halfway off the box spring. Numerous items lay strewed on the floor of both bathrooms. She checked the nursery and found it in shambles. Some intruder had gone through every room, causing total upheaval.

      She was wild with anger. Last evening after returning from her work at the pharmacy, she’d thoroughly cleaned the rambler in case someone dropped by after the graveside service. The house would be neat, clean and filled with flowers.

      She’d inherited this house from her deceased mother, and she and Rod had made it into their home. But their marriage had started to fall apart soon after Amy was born, and now he was dead and her family home was a disaster.

      Half a dozen floral arrangements had arrived during the week, but several of them had been knocked over. Water had spilled on the carpet. The fireplace screen had been knocked over. Cushions were piled on the floor in the living room and den. The drawers of her computer desk had been pulled out, the contents dumped on the floor. Several framed prints had been taken off the walls and the backings torn. Whoever had gone through her house had been desperately looking for something.

      While she waited for the Ranger, she reached again for her cell and placed a call to Jillian.

      Her good friend lived just across the street and had been looking after Amy since Natalie had gone back to work. The little girl was good company for Jillian’s eighteen-month-old daughter, Susie, and the arrangement allowed Jillian to earn a little extra money while her husband, Bart, served another tour of duty overseas with the marines.

      “Jillian? You’re not going to believe this,” Natalie said when her friend answered. “I just got home from the service and found that my house has been broken into”

      “You’re kidding!”

      “I wish I were. Life has been a nightmare since I got that call from the police about Rod. Can you keep Amy a little longer? I have to wait for some Ranger to come over.”

      “What? Why?”

      “I have no idea. And a forensics team. As soon as they’re gone, I’ll be over to get her.”

      “Don’t you worry about anything. There’s no hurry.”

      “Yes, there is. You’ve gone beyond the call of duty to watch her on a Saturday afternoon. That wasn’t our arrangement. I plan to pay you double.”

      “Natalie—don’t be ridiculous. You’ve been through a horrible experience. What are friends for?”

      “You’re the best, Jillian. I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

      The second she hung up, Natalie’s landline rang, startling her. She moved to the kitchen to answer it but checked the caller ID first. It was blank. Would it be one of those hang-up calls she’d gotten twice this week already?

      Natalie hated to answer without knowing who was on the other end, especially after this break-in, although it could be one of many important calls she was expecting—the police, the bank, the attorney, the mortuary, her boss at work, her coworkers, church friends, her insurance agent. But right now she was in no state to talk to anyone and let it ring until the person on the other end gave up or left a message.

      She looked around but couldn’t tell if anything was missing. She’d developed a bad headache and needed a pain pill.

      One look in the bathroom mirror made her realize she needed to freshen up before the Ranger arrived and she washed her face, remembering too late that she wasn’t supposed to touch anything. The burial plot in the newer section of the cemetery hadn’t been planted with shade trees yet. The heat had caused her to break out in perspiration, but she didn’t have time to change out of her lightweight linen suit.

      After drying her face, Natalie refreshed her lipstick and gave her tousled, collarbone-length hair a good brushing. When she heard the knock on the back door, her brush fell to the floor. Her nerves were that bad.

      She walked down the hall, past the nursery and into the kitchen. She used a dish towel to open the door leading to the backyard. Whatever picture of the Ranger she’d had in her mind didn’t come close to the sight of the tall, thirtyish, hard-muscled male in a Western shirt, jeans and cowboy boots.

      Her gaze flitted over his dark brown hair only to collide with his beautiful hazel eyes appraising her through a dark fringe of lashes.

      “Mrs. Harris? Miles Saunders.” She felt the stranger’s probing look pierce her before he displayed his credentials. That’s when she noticed the star on his shirt pocket.

      This man is the real thing. The stuff that made the Texas Rangers legendary. She had the strange feeling that she’d seen him somewhere before, but shrugged it off. This was definitely the first time she’d ever met a Ranger.

      “Come in.” Her voice faltered, mystified by this unexpected visit. She was pretty sure the Rangers didn’t investigate a home break-in.

      “Thank you.” He took a few steps on those long, powerful legs. His presence dominated the kitchen. She invited him to follow her into the living room.

      “Please sit down.” She indicated the upholstered chair on the other side of the coffee table while she took the matching chair. There was no place else to sit until the room was put back together.

      He did as she asked. “I understand you have a daughter. Is she here?”

      The man already knew quite a bit about her, she realized. “No. I left her with my sitter who lives across the street.”

      He studied one of the framed photos that hadn’t been knocked off the end table, even though a drawer had been pulled out. “She looks a lot like you, especially the eyes. She’s a little beauty.”

      Natalie looked quickly at the floor, stunned by the personal comment. He’d sounded sincere. So far everything about him surprised her so much she couldn’t think clearly.

      He turned to focus his attention on Natalie. “You’re very composed for someone who’s been through so much. Your husband’s funeral was just this afternoon, wasn’t it?”

      “I’m trying to hold it together. If you’d taken any longer to get here, you might have found a screaming lunatic on your hands.” She was nervous and talking too fast, but she couldn’t help it. “Why would the Texas Rangers want to talk to me? I already answered the detective’s questions after they found my husband’s body at the hotel. It’s hard for me to believe he took his own life, but even more difficult to believe anyone would have wanted to kill him.”

      “Why do you think it wasn’t a suicide?”

      Averting her eyes she said, “In my opinion he was too selfish to do it. That’s what I told the police. Now I’ve probably shocked you.”

      “Not at all. Tell me something. Was your husband right-or left-handed?”

      “Left.”

      “The report said the gun was found in his left hand, but the angle of the bullet raises some questions. Your answer convinces me the gunshot wasn’t self-inflicted.”

      She sat back in the chair. “So someone killed him? Am I a suspect?”

      “If this weren’t crucial, I wouldn’t have insisted on talking to you today. I’ll explain, but we’re going to need some time, unless you want me to come back this evening.”

      “No, no.” Might as well get this over with. “I’ll call my sitter and prepare her for a longer wait. Excuse me.” Natalie