Lock, Stock and McCullen. Rita Herron

you find something?”

      He shook his head, and she glanced down at her fingers. The ink smear where he’d taken her prints mocked her with the horror of the night.

      “Rose?” Maddox approached, his expression guarded. “I need to have the lab check your phone records to see where that threatening call came from. Is that all right?”

      “Of course.” Her chest ached as emotions pummeled her. “Do whatever you have to do.” She dug through a drawer for a minute, then retrieved a business card and handed it to him. “Here, this is Thad’s.”

      Maddox scanned the card. “Thanks, I’ll check into it.”

      “You think he really worked there or was that a lie, too?”

      “I don’t know, but I’ll find out. I’m going to dust his car for prints, too. It’s possible Thoreau wasn’t his real name.”

      He rubbed her arms with his hands. Hands that felt strong but tender. Hands that made her want to lean into him and never let go.

      But that was crazy. She’d trusted Thad, and look where that had gotten her.

      Maddox was only here to help her find the man—or men—who wanted her dead.

      She needed his help as the sheriff, nothing more. And she couldn’t forget it.

       Chapter Five

      Maddox had considered calling the sheriff in Laramie, but without evidence of a body, he’d look like a fool.

      Rose sank into the kitchen chair as if she was too exhausted to stand. “What do we do now?”

      He joined Rose at the table, his hands splayed on top. “Technically there’s no crime to report. Well, except that you were attacked, and I’ll document that and your story. But there’s no body and the blood is minimal, so it’s not enough to warrant calling in any other law enforcement at this time.”

      “But Thad Thoreau is either dead or missing.”

      “I realize that,” Maddox said. “And I didn’t say I wouldn’t investigate. But I don’t plan to inform other authorities until I do some research myself.”

      Rose fidgeted but looked relieved. “It was self-defense, Maddox. I swear it was.”

      He might not believe a stranger, but he believed Rose.

      Or was that his libido talking? He’d always been attracted to her, but his daddy had drilled into him not to chase a woman who was already attached to another man.

      And Rose had been wearing that big diamond on her finger.

      Her heart must have been broken at her fiancé’s betrayal.

      “I’ll check hospitals, ERs, urgent-care facilities and the morgue in case the person Thoreau was talking to on the phone carried him for medical help.”

      “You think he had an accomplice? That he cleaned up the blood to cover for Thad’s attack on me?”

      “It’s possible.” Another thought occurred to Maddox. “I should search the land and woods surrounding the cabin in case he buried Thoreau there.”

      Rose shuddered visibly. “I didn’t think of that.”

      Maddox squeezed her hand again. Her fingers felt icy, a tremor running through her. “That’s my job, Rose. Why don’t you get some rest?”

      Rose chewed her bottom lip. “I...I’m not sure I can sleep.”

      Maddox sucked in a breath, forcing himself not to react physically to the way she folded her fingers into his palm and clung to him. She was suffering from shock and obviously scared to be alone.

      Normal for a victim of a crime.

      “I’ll stay here and make sure you’re safe.”

      Her lips parted in surprise as she angled her face toward him. “I can’t ask you to do that, Sheriff.”

      “Maddox,” he said, his voice gruff. “And you didn’t ask. I’m the law around here. I wouldn’t feel right leaving you unprotected, not until we find out what happened to your fiancé and find the person who made that threatening phone call.”

      Rose’s gaze met his, shock still flaring in her eyes. “I still can’t wrap my head around the idea that Thad lied to me all along, that he...wanted me dead.”

      “That’ll take time.” He slowly pulled his hand from hers. “By the way, do you have a photograph of Thoreau?”

      Rose hesitated a moment, then reached inside her purse for her phone and accessed a selfie of her and the man. “Thad didn’t want formal pictures taken, but I managed to snap this one at dinner one night.”

      Maddox scrutinized the man’s face. He looked to be in his midthirties, had an angular face, short brown hair, thick brows, a cleft in his chin and eyes that looked a muddy hazel.

      “Will that help?” Rose asked.

      “Yes, thanks. Now go to bed. I’m going to make some phone calls and see what I can find out.”

      Rose pushed herself up from the table with a sigh. “Thank you, Maddox. I...appreciate all you’ve done tonight.”

      He stood, tempted to pull her into his arms and comfort her again. But he needed to maintain his distance.

      She had been involved in a crime, and he had to remain objective until he learned the truth about what happened earlier.

      The cop voice in his head, the one that had been lied to by other suspects, warned him to tread carefully. Two years ago, an alleged victim who’d come running to him for help had actually turned out to be the mastermind of a criminal ring.

      Actually he didn’t know that much about Rose herself. Only that she’d moved here a few months ago and opened an antiques shop.

      It was far-fetched, but it was possible that she’d killed the man and buried him herself, then concocted this story about the attack.

      * * *

      ROSE CLIMBED THE STEPS to the bedroom, her emotions in a tailspin. Relief that Maddox was in her house calmed her nerves, but the moment she went into the bedroom and saw the music box Thad had given her the night he proposed, tears flooded her eyes.

      The fact that he’d remembered her love of music boxes had moved her even more. It was the one special thing she and Ramona Worthington had bonded over. She’d thought that the gift was so romantic, that Thad really loved her, that they’d spend a lifetime together.

      She’d had no idea he’d wooed her into trusting him so he could end her life.

      She lifted the lid to the music box, once again mesmerized by the sound of the love song and the dove twirling on the top. Something about the antique music box stirred a distant memory, reminded her of a music box she’d seen before, maybe as a child.

      But she couldn’t place what it looked like or the song it was playing.

      An image of a woman’s hand teased at her memory, and a soft voice whispered to her that the music box had belonged to her grandmother.

      But her mother had never mentioned a grandmother. In fact, when she’d asked about other relatives, her mother had clammed up.

      Heart heavy, she stripped, pulled on a gown and brushed her teeth. But the sight of her ashen, tear-streaked face in the mirror reminded her of the horror of her near death.

      She splashed cold water on her face, then fell into bed and drew the covers above her, clenching them as the nightmare of the evening played over and over in her head.

      She had escaped Thad tonight.

      But would he or the man on the phone come