best friend, saloon owner Wade Lansing, so somber as when he acted as one of the pall-bearers. Dressed in an immaculate black suit, shirt and tie that she wouldn’t have suspected he owned, Wade had looked forbidding and dangerous, but had done Andrew proud, standing tall and strong beside her daddy, Sheriff Wilson, Mayor Daniels, and Donald Church and Paul Lambert, senior partners of the law firm where Andrew had worked.
Her father had tried and failed to remain stoic during the funeral, and he’d aged ten years in the past six weeks, his white hair thinning, the circles under his eyes darkening. Beneath her Vera Wang veil, her mother had wept copiously and Kelly should have been crying, too. But she couldn’t. She was too angry at Andrew for dying. Too upset with the sheriff who couldn’t give her any explanations why her brother hadn’t even tried to get out of the first floor of a burning building.
Her world no longer made sense and she needed to put it in order before she could go on with her life. Finding answers for Andrew and herself might not be her specialty, but she was a fast learner and she fully intended to search for the truth.
“If someone else had been around, they would have gotten Andrew up and out of there.” Cara’s special brand of reporter logic made her good at figuring things out.
Kelly picked up a brush and ran it through her hair, not because her shoulder-length hair needed brushing but because she found the action soothing. “That night when I spoke to Andrew he was awake and excited. I have difficulty believing that he fell asleep so soundly that the smoke didn’t wake him.”
“The fire broke out at two in the morning. He must have been exhausted.” Cara stood, took the brush from Kelly and tossed it on the marble and gold cosmetic table.
Kelly frowned at her. “Andrew was always the lightest of sleepers. Remember how picky he was about his sheets?”
“Huh?”
“Surely you haven’t forgotten our sleep-over back in middle school when you put your puppy in Andrew’s bed and she left a little sand behind.”
Cara nodded with a chuckle. “Who would have thought a few grains of sand would keep Andrew tossing and turning all night? Or that he’d retaliate with an ice cold glass of water at 7 a.m.”
“My brother required six pillows to sleep, propping up his knees and back. And now the sheriff expects me to believe that Andrew fell asleep in an uncomfortable office chair? It’s just not possible.”
Cara’s eyes glimmered with interest. “You questioned Sheriff Wilson?”
Kelly shrugged. “Yeah. And he gave me a patronizing hug and told me he would look into my suspicions. Then I asked Paul Lambert what Andrew had been working on, and he just patted me on the head and told me the work was confidential. I don’t know how you investigate your stories. People don’t take me seriously.”
“That’s because you’re…”
Kelly raised a perfectly arched brow. “What?”
“Polite.”
“There’s nothing wrong with good manners.”
Except that six weeks after Andrew’s death, Kelly had no more answers than she’d had the morning she’d been told he’d died. But she was determined to find out exactly what had happened that night. She just wasn’t sure how to go about investigating.
However, Cara did know, and Kelly would eventually learn from her friend how to obtain the information she desired. Kelly might be polite but she knew how to get around Cara. “So you studied investigative journalism. Where should I start? What should I do? How should I act? What should I wear?”
Cara rubbed her forehead. “What if there’s nothing to find? Can you live with that?”
Kelly stood, appreciating her height that allowed her to look down on her shorter friend. Andrew might have called Kelly short-stuff because she was a good eight inches shorter than his six-foot-two, but now she looked down her nose and used her most charming grin on Cara. “I just want to find out the truth. You of all people should understand.”
“Of course I do, but… Look, Kelly. It’s like this. While I was working for the high school newspaper on that exposé of the football coach and the school secretary, you were the head cheerleader. And in college—”
“Hey, I studied damn hard.”
“I know you did, sweetie. Maybe you could investigate the society page or the travel section or—”
“Give advice to the rich and famous?”
“Exactly.”
Kelly fisted her hands on her hips, careful not to wrinkle her silk blouse. “So you think all I can investigate is fluff?”
“If the hat fits…”
“…I’d wear it only if it were in style. But so what if I like fashion and gossip. That doesn’t mean I didn’t love my brother enough to find out what happened to him. Are you going to help me or not?”
Cara nodded. “I just don’t want to see you hurt even more, but the last time I saw you this determined was the day you took your LSAT’s.” Cara looked her up and down, frowning at Kelly’s elegant blouse and frilly, ladylike skirt that ended at midcalf. “I’d say a trip to the mall is our first stop.”
“IF ANYTHING HAPPENS to me, look after short-stuff.” Andrew’s words reverberated in Wade Lansing’s mind as he walked down Main Street and spied Kelly McGovern.
Kelly looked different from the out-of-his-class woman that she always presented to the world. Instead of the feminine silk blouses and lacy skirts or designer dresses she favored, she was wearing jeans, boots and a tucked in blouse with a blazer. She’d done something to her standard shoulder-length blond hair, pulling it back softly with a clip that showed off her blue eyes and model cheekbones.
Wade wished he’d questioned Andrew more fully during the short phone conversation the night of his friend’s death, but the bar had been packed and he’d been shy two waitresses. Still, he’d taken the time to ask Andrew why he thought anything might happen to him, but Andrew had told him it was probably nothing.
Nothing, my ass.
Andrew wasn’t prone to panic or exaggeration. He’d stumbled onto something he shouldn’t have and it had gotten him killed. And as much as Wade had liked and respected Andrew, his friend had grown up protected from the harsher side of life. Andrew trusted people, whereas Wade did not. Andrew always gave people the benefit of the doubt. Wade expected the worst, so he didn’t need evidence to listen to his gut, which told him Andrew had been murdered. He’d been around trouble too many times not to trust his instincts.
As a kid, those instincts warned him to hide on Saturday nights so that his drunk father couldn’t find him until he sobered up. The few times he’d forgotten to hide had taught Wade to never let down his guard. He had few friends, but Andrew had been a good one, and Wade owed him more than one favor.
Besides, watching Kelly’s back and cute little bottom was certainly no hardship. With her long slender legs, she should wear jeans more often. She’d always been attractive in that don’t-touch-me-I’m-off-limits-to-the-likes-of-you kind of way, which he’d accepted out of respect for Andrew. But today she actually
