No Getting Over A Cowboy. Delores Fossen

      Apparently not. Two heart stompings weren’t enough to teach her a lesson, and she wasn’t sure she could survive a third one.

      “You still there, Mrs. Marlow?” Chief Clay McKinnon asked when he finally came on the line.

      “Nicky,” she automatically corrected. “I’m here. I hate to bother you because you must be busy, but I just wanted to know if there were any updates on the body?”

      Just saying the word body tightened her stomach, and Nicky hoped she wouldn’t feel the need to vomit again. While she was hoping, she added that maybe she could get those images out of her head. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the skeleton. She hoped those images went away soon since she still had plans to live in that house for the next year.

      “The remains have been moved to the county morgue,” Clay explained, “and the CSIs will start going through the place this morning. I don’t expect them to find much, not after all this time, but you never know.”

      Nicky glanced out the window again to check on Kaylee. She was no longer playing with the dog but rather was running toward Garrett. That nearly sent Nicky bolting after her because she didn’t want Kaylee to bother Garrett, but Gina was on her heels.

      “As for the identity of the John Doe,” Clay went on, “he didn’t have any ID on him, and there weren’t any clothes in the immediate area that could have belonged to him. The CSIs will look upstairs, though. Did you happen to come across any men’s clothes when you were cleaning?”

      “There are some in a few of the dressers and trunks, but I doubt he undressed and put his things away.”

      “No. Unless he was staying there. That’s possible, of course, but it’s more likely that someone moved the clothes.”

      She was glad he didn’t spell that out for her, but Nicky’s mind began to race with some really bad ideas. Like maybe the clothes had been blood-soaked or had bullet holes in them.

      “If there’s no ID and you can’t get his prints, how will you figure out who he is?” she asked.

      “I might not. That’s the way these things turn out sometimes. Of course, I’ll keep looking through the missing person’s database. The Ranger lab might be able to do facial reconstruction, too. Until then, I’ll keep following what little evidence I have. The guy didn’t have any unusual dental work, metal plates or prosthetics, but he was wearing a wedding band.”

      That got her attention. She certainly hadn’t noticed a ring when she’d seen the body, but then she hadn’t lingered around for a long look. “He was married,” she mumbled.

      “Sure looks that way. The band was yellow gold,” Clay continued. “And it had the words forever wrapped around you engraved inside it.”

      Nicky felt her heart flutter. Not in a good way, either. Because those were lovers’ words. Unless it referred literally to the ring, that is. But she doubted it. No, this was likely a declaration of love.

      “He was really married,” she repeated. Nicky hadn’t meant for there to be that much emotion in her voice. Emotion that Clay must have noticed.

      “Are you okay?” Clay asked.

      She quickly tried to regain her composure. Also quickly tried to figure out how to get this conversation back on track. A track that didn’t include transferring her own feelings onto this situation. “I’m fine. I was thinking, though, that his being married could be a motive for murder, right?”

      “Could be. Maybe a jealous wife. Maybe a lover who got fed up waiting for him to get a divorce. I’m interviewing some folks today who knew Matilda. That doesn’t mean she had anything to do with this. Won’t know that until the ME can come up with a time of death.”

      Yes, that would certainly help narrow down the list of people who might have had something to do with this. Unless the John Doe was just some trespasser. One who’d gone into the house, stripped off most his clothes and gone into a closet to die.

      “By the way, I just told Garrett all of this,” Clay added. “He’s not giving you any updates?”

      Nicky hesitated. “No.”

      Even though it was only a one-word response, the chief must have filled in the blanks. “He’s still not too happy about you and the other widows being there.”

      Bingo. “There are a lot of us.”

      “Well, don’t take it personally. Garrett just has a lot on his mind these days. Plus, he might be having flashbacks when he sees your daughter.”

      “Flashbacks?” she blurted out.

      Silence. Followed by some mumbled profanity. “I’ve said too much. I’ll call you if I get any other information on the case. Oh, and first chance you get, I need you to drop by my office and sign the report on the dead guy. Loretta’s already come in, but I’ll need you to, as well.” And before Nicky could say anything else, Clay hung up.

      She stared at the phone and glanced outside again. Gina was obviously trying to coax Kaylee away from Garrett, but her daughter had something in her hand that she was showing him. Nicky saw it then. The look on his face, the need to detach from this situation. Did that have something to do with the flashbacks the chief had just mentioned? If Clay hadn’t added her daughter to that slipped remark, Nicky might have thought this had something to do with Meredith’s sex tape, but it had to be more than that.

      Nicky scrolled through her recent calls and texts. Two missed calls and three unanswered texts from Meredith. Maybe it was time to quit skirting around the woman, especially since Meredith might know what was going on. Nicky didn’t feel especially good about contacting the woman simply to pump her for information, but she wanted the big picture of what she was up against here. If her being here was causing Garrett real mental anguish, then she needed to find a way to get all the widows, herself included, out of there ASAP.

      She made another check out the window first. Gina had Kaylee by the hand and was leading her back toward the house. Garrett was still there. Not alone, though. One of the women was talking to him.

      Lady Romero, the prescription drug overdose widow, who owned a tow truck business. One that specialized in tacky slogans.

      Lady was young, beautiful and, on the surface, didn’t seem to be mourning as much as her fellow widows. In fact, at the moment she didn’t seem to be mourning at all. She was smiling and touching the front of Garrett’s shirt, and even though Nicky couldn’t actually see the woman’s face, she thought maybe some eyelash batting was going on.

      Oh, well. Garrett was a big boy and could take care of himself. He definitely didn’t need her to come to the rescue.

      Meredith answered on the first ring, and she obviously knew who was calling. “Nicky, thank God. I’ve been trying to reach you.”

      “Sorry, I’ve been really busy—”

      “Yes, I heard about the dead man in Z.T.’s house,” Meredith continued. Which was probably a good thing because that prevented Nicky from whining about everything that’d gone on. “You must have been terrified.”

      “More shocked than anything else—”

      “I would have screamed my head off.” Again, the interruption was good because Meredith didn’t need to hear about her dignity-reducing stomach issues. “It’s awful, just awful. Does this mean you won’t be opening the Widows’ House?”

      “I’m still waiting to hear what the police chief has to say, but I think the widows and I will be able to move in soon. Why—?”

      “Clay,” Meredith said. “He’s the police chief, and he’s engaged to Sophie. You remember her, right? Yes, I’m sure you do even though she was four years younger than us. I always felt as if Sophie was more like a sister to me than a sister-in-law.”

      This time the interruption wasn’t so welcome because Nicky had been