Ambushed At Christmas. Barb Han

had arrested the person responsible for the attack at Porter’s Bend. If there was any possible link between this guy and the person responsible for butchering animals on the family land, everyone would want to know about it.

      Deacon’s thoughts again wandered into territory he knew better than to go—Leah Cordon.

      He’d moved into his bungalow-style house on the ranch six months ago, the day after it had finished being built. Living here was convenient and he appreciated having his own space. He’d always been that kid who kept to the sidelines and did his own thing. Not much had changed since becoming a man. He’d probably laugh if someone described him as the strong, silent type but he couldn’t argue.

      Having his own place gave him breathing room, even though he didn’t feel like he fit the rancher’s life. His older brother, Mitch, had taken to it like a fisherman to a pond. The baby of the family, Amber, followed in their eldest brother’s footsteps. But he and his three other brothers, Will, Nate and Jordan, fell somewhere in the cracks. Don’t get him wrong, he loved Texas and the family business. Being out on the range and sleeping under the stars kept him sane. It was the rest—the part where his entire life was planned out before him—that made his collar feel like a noose.

      The ringtone of his cell caught him off guard. He hopped into his jeans and got to his phone that was vibrating on his dresser.

      Leah Cordon’s name was on the screen.

      “What’s up, Detective?” Deacon asked.

      “Sorry to wake you.” She sounded like she’d had a shot of espresso.

      “I haven’t slept.” Deacon sat on the edge of the chair next to his dresser, thinking he wouldn’t mind a cup of black coffee. He raked his free hand through his hair.

      “What’s keeping you awake?” Her voice had a sexy ring to it, a campfire-and-moonlight-under-the-stars quality. And that was something he had no place noticing given the nature of their friendship—a word he’d use lightly to describe their liaison.

      “Most likely the same reason your eyes are still open.” The line went quiet for a second and he wondered if she were debating whether or not it had been a good idea to call him.

      “I’m heading over to the coroner’s office in a little while to see the body,” she finally said. “Something feels off.”

      “What do you think you’ll find there?” His curiosity was piqued.

      “Not sure yet,” she admitted.

      “But you think it’s worth it to make the drive over.” He was stating the obvious but it didn’t hurt to make sure they were on the same page. He’d learned a long time ago not to assume he knew what anyone else was thinking.

      She agreed that she did. Another few beats of silence permeated the line. Then came, “Your heifers. They suffered, didn’t they?”

      “Yes.” He let his tone reflect his frustration.

      “You mentioned smaller animals, too,” she continued.

      “There’ve been rabbits.” He switched hands with the phone and put it to his left ear.

      “No weapons were ever recovered.” It was a statement of fact, not a question.

      “And no DNA was left behind,” he added. “What are you getting at?”

      “In your best guess, what kind of weapon was used?” Her voice had a quiet calm and he assumed it was the one she used to get people to confide in her. He would’ve anyway because he didn’t have anything to hide.

      “A jigsaw,” he said.

      The line was dead quiet for several beats and he could tell the wheels in her mind were spinning. “I thought that’s what I read. This guy made a clean cut.” She paused a few more beats before adding, “I’m sorry about your animals.”

      “Are you still going to the coroner’s office?” he asked.

      “I am,” she confirmed.

      “Mind if I show up? I’d like to get a look for myself and your badge will get me through the door.” He could get to Fort Worth in about an hour. Judging her reactions so far, she didn’t believe the man sitting in jail had committed the crime.

      “I have no authority in this investigation,” she said quietly. The killer had murdered someone on her trail. Based on the description of Jillian Mitchell, the two looked similar. Did the detective think it could’ve easily been her, instead? He understood when a crime hit a little too close to home. He knew the fear that could instill in people.

      “I might be able to help with that.” With Deacon’s family name he could probably call in a few favors and get a private visit with the body of the victim without rattling too many cages. But he hoped the detective would take him with her. All she had to do was flash her badge and he wouldn’t have to have his name tied to the investigation.

      “You know what, I made a mistake calling. Forget what I said. I’m sorry to bother you. I should go.” What had happened in the last few seconds to change her mind? Was it the fact that he’d used the Kent last name? That normally opened doors instead of closing them. Of course, she might not want to be associated with anyone who was high profile. That could draw attention to her.

      “Hold on a minute, I—”

      It was too late. The line went dead.

      LEAH PULLED INTO the parking lot of the Tarrant County Coroner’s office. Dr. Timothy Rex had been with the city since long before her time and he was one of the most respected people she had the privilege of working with.

      She’d no sooner put the gearshift in Park than movement on the east side of the parking lot caught her eye. A pickup truck door opened and Deacon Kent got out of the driver’s side. Her stomach gave a little flip at seeing Deacon Kent again. She ignored her reaction to him, even though instinctively she checked her face in the mirror. She should’ve known he would show. She’d all but invited him on the phone, and had regretted it almost instantly. It wasn’t like her to act on impulse, which is exactly what she’d done when she’d picked up her cell at almost four o’clock in the morning.

      Speaking of which, lack of sleep had dark circles cradling her eyes. She’d never been one to do well without sleep, even though she’d gotten very little of it during her high school years. Unlike her peers, she wasn’t lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling because she worried she’d fail a test. Her stress levels reached far deeper than that. While everyone else met up on Friday nights to find out who would host the next party after Friday Night Lights, she churned all night feeling physically ill. She thought about what she could’ve done differently. Her mind stirred on how she’d let her friend down in the worst possible way.

      Leah pushed those heavy thoughts aside and stepped out of her car. She didn’t bother asking what he was doing there.

      “Good morning, Mr. Kent.” He was already making a beeline toward her by the time she climbed out of her driver’s seat.

      “Call me Deacon,” he said. “I hope it’s okay that I’m here.”

      “You have a vested interest in this case and so do I.” She left out the part where she liked having someone to bounce ideas off of for a change. For too long it had just been her and her three-year-old son, Connor. Even when she’d dated Detective Dougherty, she hadn’t felt the sense of—what?—comfort that she instantly felt with Deacon. She chalked it up to it being easier to talk to a stranger than those closest at times. But nothing felt strange about Deacon Kent. In a way, she felt like she’d known him for years and it was probably just because he was easy to talk to. She didn’t want to get inside her head about what that meant, so she just let it be.

      There were four cars parked in the lot at this early hour aside from Deacon’s truck and her