Killer Cowboy. Carla Cassidy

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Killer Cowboy - Carla Cassidy Cowboys of Holiday Ranch

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spied the man half covered with hay. There was no question that he was dead.

      “I need to get Teddy out here,” Dillon said. Dr. Ted Lymon was the medical examiner and there wasn’t much Dillon and his men could do here until Teddy arrived.

      He made the call and then stepped closer to the body while Adam hung back. “This is how you found him?” he asked the ranch foreman.

      “No. He was completely covered up in hay when we came into the barn. Cassie just happened to kick at the hay mound and realized something...somebody was beneath it.” Adam grimaced. “As soon as we saw it was Sam we went back to the house to call you.”

      Dillon sighed. “Round up your men and make sure they’re available for questioning later this afternoon.”

      Adam nodded and took the sentence as the dismissal it was meant to be. He turned and left the barn. Once again Dillon looked at the dead man.

      Sam Kelly was a local. His parents had died in a car accident several years ago and since then he’d bummed around town doing odd jobs until he’d landed here on the Holiday ranch a couple of weeks ago.

      He’d been a friendly young man, easygoing and seemingly without an enemy in the world. Yet somebody had killed him and buried his body with hay.

      Dillon fought the impulse to lean down and gently brush the last of the hay off the man’s face. He didn’t dare touch anything until photos had been taken and Ted had done his job.

      Whoever had done this had to have known his body would be discovered when the barn was cleaned up. On the portion of Sam’s body that had been uncovered, Dillon saw no other wounds. The blood that had seeped out around the man’s head tightened Dillon’s gut.

      Seven skeletons buried under the ground, each one showing deadly trauma to the back of the head. Now this, a man buried under hay with deadly trauma to the back of his head.

      The similarities were hard to ignore, and Dillon’s stomach churned with acid. Was it possible a serial killer had been dormant for all these years and now had become active again? Was the murder no more than a drunken brawl turned bad, or was it something far more insidious?

       Chapter 2

      Cassie made a fresh pot of coffee and then stood by the back door peering outside for what seemed like an eternity. She saw several more of Dillon’s men arrive and then Ted Lymon pulled up in his black vehicle. Her heart ached as eventually Ted left with Sam’s body.

      Anger, heartbreak and a hint of fear all rolled around in her head and it felt as if it had been a hundred years ago that she’d awakened with her only concern being a hangover headache.

      Her heart beat too quickly as she saw Dillon leave the barn and head toward the house. The man definitely stirred something inside her. At the moment she would love to lean into his broad chest and have his strong arms around her.

      But of course that wouldn’t happen. His strides were long and determined, and his mouth was a grim slash on his handsome face as he reached the back door.

      His dark blue uniform shirt fit tight across his broad shoulders and the slacks fit perfectly on his long legs. Instead of an official hat, he wore a black cowboy hat.

      Her head knew what he was going to tell her, but her heart wanted to deny it. She desperately wanted Sam’s death to be a tragic accident, but the evidence said otherwise.

      She opened the door for him. Despite the distress of the situation, she couldn’t help that the familiar scent of his spicy cologne shot a hint of pleasant warmth through her.

      “I made a fresh pot of coffee,” she said. “Would you like a cup?”

      “That sounds great,” he agreed and sat at the table. He swept off his hat and placed it in the chair next to him.

      She was acutely aware of his gaze on her as she poured them each a cup of coffee and then joined him at the table. She wrapped her fingers around her mug, suddenly cold again when she gazed into his troubled gray eyes.

      “It’s a murder case,” he said.

      His words didn’t surprise her, but she couldn’t help the small gasp that fell from her lips. “We’ll know more after the autopsy,” he continued. “Initially Teddy has declared the cause of death to be a sharp weapon slammed into the back of Sam’s head.”

      “A sharp weapon?” Cassie licked her dry lips.

      Dillon nodded, his dark, slightly shaggy hair gleaming brightly in the sunshine that danced through the nearby window. “Probably an ax.”

      “Like the others.”

      He paused to take a sip of the coffee then put his cup down slowly. “We can’t be absolutely certain, but there’s no way to dismiss the similarities.” His gaze held hers intently. “Cassie, you need to face the fact that one of your cowboys might be guilty.”

      A rise of anger usurped the coldness inside her. “That’s ridiculous. I know my men and my aunt Cass knew them. They’re all good people who would never do something like this.”

      “I intend to question each of them as potential suspects.”

      She leaned forward in her chair. “You questioned them all when the seven skeletons were first found and nothing came of it. Maybe you should ask Humes’s men what they were up to last night. They crashed the party and you know they’ve always been trouble.”

      There was no question that she lusted a bit after Dillon Bowie, but at the moment that emotion wasn’t anywhere in her heart.

      It was so much easier to embrace anger rather than to entertain her physical attraction to the chief of police, or give in to the tears that had threatened to fall since the moment she’d seen Sam’s body.

      She glared at him. “Why don’t you leave my men alone? They’ve done nothing to make anyone believe that one of them is capable of murder.”

      “Calm down, Cassie.”

      She narrowed her eyes. “Has nobody in your entire life ever told you that telling a woman to calm down is like waving a red flag in front of an angry bull?”

      His cheeks reddened slightly. “I’m not the enemy here, Cassie,” he said softly. “Everyone who attended the barn dance last night is a potential suspect. In fact, what I need from you is a list of all the people who came to the party last night.”

      She frowned and leaned back in her chair, her momentary burst of anger gone. “You were here along with more than half the town.” She sighed. “Okay, I’ll do the best I can to come up with a complete list of names.”

      “I appreciate it. Now, tell me how Sam was working out here. I know he was a fairly new hire.”

      “I hired him on two weeks ago, along with Donnie Brighton and Jeff Hagerty. According to all the men Sam was fitting in just fine. Every time I saw him he had a cheerful smile on his face.” She bit her bottom lip to keep her grief at bay.

      “And nobody mentioned having

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