Danger On Dakota Ridge. Cindi Myers

Hake had a bad heart,” Travis said.

      “Did whoever killed him know that?” Rob asked.

      “More unanswered questions,” Travis said. “Would this be enough for the DEA to go back into that underground bunker and do some testing?”

      “Maybe.” Rob sighed. “I’m not even supposed to be here, you know.”

      “Your aunt wanted to know what really happened to Hake,” Travis said. “This might be your best chance to find out.”

      Rob glanced at the clock on the wall by the door. “It’s after five in DC, where the decision would have to be made,” he said. “I’ll contact my boss in the morning and let him take it from there.” That would give him a few more hours to come up with a better explanation for why he was in Rayford County right now. Maybe he could persuade his boss he had just come here to fly-fish.

      “Let us know what he says.” Travis glanced at the report once more. “I wonder what the market is for biological weapons.”

      “What made you think of that?” Dwight asked.

      “Because so many times these things come down to money,” Travis said.

      “My guess is there are terrorist groups who would hand over a lot of cash to get their hands on a weapon that was easy to distribute, tough to detect and effective for mass destruction,” Rob said.

      “Is there a weapon like that?” Dwight asked. “Tularemia doesn’t sound like it would be very effective.”

      “Then maybe the point of the lab is to develop something better,” Travis said. “It’s one angle.”

      “Hake had a lot of money tied up in that resort project,” Dwight said. “CNG Development talks like they want to spend even more money up there.”

      “Yet we’ve had two murders there—three, if you count Hake,” Travis said. “As well as two accidental deaths, three people kidnapped, and a number of unexplained discharges of firearms up there.”

      “Maybe we can get the county to declare the place a public nuisance,” Dwight said.

      “More likely, CNG will complain that local law enforcement isn’t doing a good job of keeping the criminal element off their property,” Travis said. He straightened. “I’ll give CNG a call and see what they have to say about this latest discovery.”

      “Let me know what they say,” Rob said.

      “Don’t worry,” Travis said. “You’re part of this now, whether you want to be or not.”

      * * *

      PAIGE TOLD HERSELF she had to trust Parker, as she watched him drive away. He was a good kid. Or rather, a good man. She had to remind herself her little brother wasn’t a child anymore, and she shouldn’t treat him like one. Yes, he had made some mistakes, but he was too smart to make those mistakes again. She wanted to believe this.

      She checked the clock as she passed through the kitchen on the way to her office. It was after three thirty. She had expected her new guest, Robert Allen, to check in before now. Then again, maybe he had gotten a late start from Denver, or decided to do other things before showing up at the B and B. She asked that guests notify her only if they planned to arrive after 9:00 p.m.

      She switched on her computer and prepared to focus on balancing her books and updating her financial records—a task guaranteed to require all her attention. She was deep into the frustration of trying to make her numbers agree with the bank’s when the doorbell rang. She started and glanced at the clock, surprised to see she had been working for almost an hour. She closed her laptop and hurried to the door, fixing a smile in place, prepared to play the gracious hostess.

      A check of the security peephole wiped the smile from her face. She unlocked the door and swept it open. “What do you think you’re doing, following me around like this?” she demanded of a startled Rob Allerton.

      He settled his features into his usual inscrutable expression. “I have a reservation,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

      “I own this place.”

      He glanced up at the neat white Victorian home, with its black shutters, and neatly mulched flower beds filled with lilacs and peonies fading into winter dormancy. “Nice,” he said.

      “You’re Robert Allen?” she asked.

      He had the grace to wince. “The assistant who made the reservation must have automatically used my cover name,” he said. “Sorry about that.”

      He made a move to walk past her into the house, but she stepped forward to join him on the front porch and shut the door behind her. “You can’t stay here,” she said.

      “Why not?”

      “Parker lives here now.”

      “I’m not interested in your brother,” he said.

      “I don’t want to upset him.” Parker had enough to deal with without having to face over the breakfast table every morning the man who had arrested him.

      “We’re all adults here,” Rob said. “I don’t see why there should be a problem.”

      “It’s a problem for me. You’ll have to find somewhere else to stay.”

      “Eagle Mountain doesn’t have that many choices for accommodations,” he said. “I spent plenty of time at the only motel while I was part of DEA’s investigation into that underground lab.”

      “The motel is very nice,” she said.

      “It’s adequate, but everyone there knows I’m a DEA agent. I prefer to keep this visit separate from that investigation. This is a personal visit and I’d like to keep to the appearance of a relaxing vacation as much as possible. When my assistant suggested a B and B I liked the idea.”

      Paige crossed her arms and scowled at him. She had the right to refuse service to anyone, but he could make a big stink if he wanted to. And turning away a paying customer at this slow time of year would be foolish, wouldn’t it? But to have this man, who had almost ruined Parker’s life, in her home—well, Rob had helped to almost ruin Parker’s life, since she couldn’t deny that Parker was the one who was mostly to blame. Still, it galled her to think of having Rob living here for the next week.

      “What are you afraid of?” Rob asked. “If you’re that worried, you can lock your door. Or should I lock mine?”

      She wanted to slap the wolfish smile off his face, but before she could raise her hand, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her to the ground. For the second time that day she found herself fighting him as he held her down. Then gunfire exploded very near her ear and tore into the door where she had been standing only seconds before.

       Chapter Five

      Paige’s scream merged with the screech of tires and the roar of an engine as the black sedan raced down the street in front of the Bear’s Den B and B. Rob, his weapon drawn, straightened and peered at the retreating car. There was no license plate, and the darkly tinted windows prevented him from seeing the occupants. Though there had been at least two people inside—the driver and the person who had fired the gun out the passenger window.

      “What happened?” Paige asked, her voice shaky. She tried to sit up and this time he let her. He returned the gun to the holster at his hip, then reached down and pulled her to her feet.

      “Was someone shooting at us?” she asked.

      “Yes.” He turned his attention from the street to look at her more closely. “Are you all right?” he asked.

      “I’m okay.” She rubbed her elbow. “Just a little banged up.”

      “Sorry