grief, Cassie, you look like you’re going to a funeral rather than on a honeymoon,” he exclaimed.
Cassie looked down at her casual black slacks and the crisp white short-sleeved blouse she wore and then back at him in his khaki shorts and wildly flower-printed shirt. “Excuse me for not meeting your questionable standards,” she said coolly. “I’ve never been on a honeymoon before.”
He grinned at her and then reached into the backseat of his car and withdrew a large duffel bag. “Don’t worry about it, when we get to town I’ll help you do a little shopping.”
She stared at him in horror, her mind instantly filled with a vision of herself in Daisy Duke shorts and see-through blouses. Shopping with Mick McCane? She didn’t think so, at least not in this lifetime.
He dropped the duffel next to where she’d parked her medium-size suitcase and smaller overnight bag. “Have you been inside? Do we need to check in or anything?”
“I already did.” She held up her left hand that now sported a diamond wedding band.
“Wow, looks like I’ve got good taste. Wheels?”
She pointed to a nearby navy blue sedan and held up a key. “The paperwork has been done. It’s registered to Mick and Cassie Crawford from Kansas City.”
“Great, let’s load up and hit the road.”
They stored their luggage in the trunk and then she slid into the passenger seat as he took the wheel. She was instantly conscious of the scent of his cologne, that spicy scent that evoked memories of twisted sheets and hot kisses and sinful caresses that had driven her out of her mind.
“You’ve got your new identification?” he asked as they both buckled their seat belts and he backed out of the parking space.
“In my wallet,” she replied, thankful that he’d broken the unwanted direction of her thoughts.
“I’ve got identification and a credit card to use for everything,” he said. “I guess we need to come up with a backstory for ourselves.” He turned out of the parking lot and onto a street that would eventually carry them out of Kansas City and toward Arkansas.
“If we’re on our honeymoon, then I guess we just got married yesterday?”
“Sounds good to me. Most people get married on Sundays, but we decided to have a Monday evening ceremony because we like to be different.” He flashed her a quick glance. “Well, if anyone presses the issue we can say I like to be different and I pressured you in to a Monday marriage.”
“I suppose you want to tell people we met rollerblading on the moon,” she said dryly.
He laughed. He had a nice laugh, deep and robust, not that it mattered to her. “Actually, I figured we’d tell people we were introduced by mutual friends.”
For the first time since she’d gotten into the car Cassie began to relax. “Okay, that sounds good. How long did we date before you popped the question?”
“Six months, and then we had a small, intimate ceremony with just friends and family.”
“Six months?” She frowned. “That doesn’t sound like a very long courtship.”
Once again he gifted her with his confident, charming smile. “I know a good thing when I find it, so I didn’t waste any time when it came to putting a ring on it.”
Cassie started to protest, but instead clamped her mouth firmly closed. What difference did it make what they told anyone who asked? The people in Black Creek were strangers and she and Mick were simply there to do a job. Once that job was done she’d never see any of those people again.
And she had to focus strictly on the work. She couldn’t be distracted by the fact that from the moment she’d first met him almost a year ago something about Mick had made her breath catch just a bit in her chest.
“Fine, you moved fast and I fell for your charm,” she finally said.
His grin grew downright cheeky. “So, you admit it, you do find me charming.”
“Stuff it, McCane,” she retorted irritably. She’d known this was going to be difficult. They were scarcely out of the city limits and already she wanted to jump out of the car and leave him behind.
He seemed to sense that he might have pushed her far enough. He repositioned his hands on the steering wheel and stared out the front window. “The cover story is that I’m a carpenter and work for a big remodeling company and you’re a receptionist in a dental office.”
“Okay, that sounds fine. Did you read the files?”
“Yeah, I was up most of the night looking at them.”
“What were your first impressions?” Cassie asked, even more comfortable as the conversation turned to murder. She didn’t want to think about what that said about her social skills or lack thereof.
“Confusing. We know the motive isn’t sexual because the women weren’t raped or didn’t appear to be molested in any way. We also know there was no robbery involved because nothing appeared to be stolen from the rooms or the victims. The men still had their wallets and cash in their pockets and the women still had on their wedding rings. So, right now the motive is up for grabs.”
It was always more difficult to solve crimes when the motive wasn’t obvious, Cassie thought. “A silencer had to have been used when the men were shot. Otherwise somebody in the area would have heard the gunshot, and according to everything I read nobody in the cabins nearby heard anything.”
She smoothed a hand down her slacks, grateful for the cool air that blew through the vents. He was right, she should have dressed even more casually, at least worn a pair of shorts instead of the long slacks.
“What I wasn’t able to figure out by reading the reports and looking at the crime-scene photos is who the real victims were in each case. Both husband and wife were killed, but in two different ways, one shot, one stabbed. Which one was the primary target?”
“If we had a motive we might have a better answer to that question. Maybe it’s possible they both were the primary targets,” she replied. “Hopefully we’ll learn more from Sheriff Lambert when we get to Cobb’s Corners.”
“What I don’t get is how the perp managed to get the woman trussed up with duct tape on the bed and control the man at the same time.” He frowned, the gesture doing nothing to detract from his handsome features.
“He had a gun. That’s a definite control mechanism.”
“Maybe,” he conceded. “But you’d think if a man came into your cabin brandishing a gun, somebody would yell or scream and yet the people in the cabins on either side indicated they’d heard nothing when the murders were taking place.”
“There was no sign of forced entry into either of the cabins.”
“All that means is either the doors were unlocked or they opened the door to the killer. Maybe they knew him, maybe they didn’t. Then there’s the possibility that it wasn’t one man working alone. There’s no way to know that at this time.” He cast her a quick glance. “Where do you work, Mrs. Crawford?”
