Cowboy's Legacy. B.J. Daniels

head. “Also, I’ve never changed the locks from when Celeste and I lived here together. She probably still has a key.”

      Mark gave him a disapproving look before he asked, “I’m assuming you didn’t touch anything?”

      Flint heard something in his voice. “No—you know I didn’t. You aren’t thinking about kicking me from this case—”

      “No, I can’t. As you know, in the state of Montana, the sheriff is an elected office. Not even the county commissioners can pull you off a case.”

      “Only the Division of Criminal Investigation,” Flint said, suddenly aware of where his undersheriff was going with this.

      “I’m hoping to know what we’re dealing with before we call in a DCI team,” Mark said. “You agree?”

      A part of him wanted the criminologists on this as quickly as possible. But once they called in the DCI, the team might decide because Maggie was his girlfriend that he be put on a leave of absence. He’d be off the case. He couldn’t bear the thought. Silently, he swore. They had to find Maggie before he was locked out of this investigation. As it was, his house was now a crime scene.

      * * *

      DEPUTY HARPER COLE cruised down the street toward the Duma house. He wondered what this really was about. Maggie Thompson was missing? There had to be more to it than that. He had tried to ask, but the undersheriff had cut him off. Clearly both Mark and Flint still didn’t have any faith in his abilities. It pissed him off. He was a hero.

      Well, at least everyone thought he was. Everyone but his pregnant girlfriend, Vicki. Why had he confessed everything to her that morning in the hospital after he’d almost died? He’d been feeling guilty, amazed he was still alive, and apparently he’d felt the need to confess to someone. But Vicki?

      Now he was stuck with her. She could hold it over his head for the rest of their lives because if the truth about that night ever came out...

      Harp shuddered at the thought. He would be the laughingstock of town instead of a hero. Worse, he’d be fired. He’d have to leave town. He might never get another job in law enforcement and he’d gotten damned attached to carrying a gun and being “the man.”

      Now he slowed in front of the Duma house. Here he was again, dealing with something connected to the sheriff. Maggie Thompson was allegedly missing? So what was he doing here?

      He parked in front of the sheriff’s ex-wife’s house and warned himself not to screw this up. Reading between the lines of what the undersheriff had said, Mark thought Celeste Duma had done something to the sheriff’s girlfriend.

      Smiling, he climbed out. He loved this sort of small-town drama, especially when it involved the sheriff. It surprised him Flint wasn’t the one coming over here himself. Flint must be going crazy with worry. Why else would he let Mark be calling the shots?

      He covered the butt of his gun with his hand as he walked toward the front door. There was no car parked in the drive. As he passed a window in the garage, he peered in. Empty. This was going to be a waste of time. No one was home.

      Ringing the bell, he glanced around the neighborhood. It was a much nicer one than where he and Vicki lived. She’d talked him into moving in with her. Another mistake he’d made. She spent most of her time puking her guts out since getting pregnant. She never felt like doing it anymore. He worried this was what marriage was going to be like.

      He rang the bell again and then knocked. Total waste of time.

      At the sound of a car engine, he turned to see a large dark SUV pull in. Wayne Duma. Now, here was someone who thought a whole lot of himself, Harp thought. Hell, he’d bought himself and his wife matching SUVs for one of their wedding anniversaries. How full of himself was that?

      Duma was frowning as he exited his vehicle. Clearly he didn’t like seeing a deputy on his doorstep. “Can I help you?” the man asked in the same tone he probably used with solicitors at his door. It only pissed Harp off more.

      “I’m looking for Mrs. Duma.”

      “She’s not here.”

      “So I gathered. Can you tell me where she is?”

      Wayne looked as if he was losing patience. Harp felt the same way. “What is this about?”

      Harp didn’t answer. “I need to talk to her. Sheriff’s department business.”

      “She’s left town.”

      “When did she leave?”

      “Earlier. I insist you tell me what this is about.”

      “Where did she go?”

      Duma looked as if he wanted to dig his heels in.

      “Maggie Thompson is missing. I need to speak with your wife.”

      The man groaned and looked away. “Not this foolishness again.” He turned back to Harp. “My wife has gone to a spa. If Maggie is missing, it has nothing to do with Celeste.”

      “What spa?”

      “I have no idea.”

      “Was she driving there or flying?”

      Duma shook his head. “I didn’t ask.”

      “I’m going to need to have a look around. I’m sure we can get a warrant—”

      “That isn’t necessary,” Duma said, stepping past him to unlock the door. “Help yourself.”

      Harp stepped in and looked around. “Nice place you have here.” He walked through the house. It appeared a housekeeping service had been there recently. It had that smell. It did nothing to improve his mood since he’d never had a place that smelled this good.

      “I’m going to take a look upstairs,” he told Duma, who didn’t bother to answer. He was on his phone. Harp listened as the man left a message for his wife to call him.

      Upstairs, he stuck his head in each room. The place was immaculate. He couldn’t see Celeste down on her knees scrubbing the bathroom floor to make it shine like that—let alone to wipe up blood. Rich people, he thought with a sharp bite of jealousy.

      He figured, as clean as the place was, it wouldn’t be hard to find blood evidence—if there had been any. But so far, he saw nothing to indicate that there had been anything going on there.

      At the end of the hall, he pushed open the door into the master bedroom and felt his pulse shoot up. The room looked as if it had exploded. There were clothes everywhere, on the floor, on the bed, thrown on the closet floor.

      He heard Duma behind him. The man gasped and then swore.

      “Can you explain this?” Harp asked.

      “Apparently Celeste had trouble deciding what to take to the spa.”

      “Right. Don’t touch anything in this room.” He pulled out his phone. “The sheriff is going to want to talk to you.”

       CHAPTER FOUR

      AT THE SAME TIME her boyfriend was calling the sheriff, Vicki was doubling over in pain. She clutched the sink next to the toilet bowl. Ever since she’d lost the baby, she’d had terrible cramps at that time of the month. Keeping Harp off of her for the days she was flowing was hard enough. But the lying...

      She told herself that she couldn’t keep this secret any longer from Deputy Harper Cole, the man she’d fallen in love with. Every day, she promised herself that she would tell Harp that she’d lost the baby. But when he came home, she just couldn’t bring herself to confess.

      He’ll leave you the minute you tell him.

      After all, it had been the only reason he’d moved in with her. She hadn’t told, thinking she would get pregnant