wasn’t sure why she trusted Hank Tyler, but she did. There was something solid about him. She liked his direct gaze and the straight answers he’d given her over coffee. Besides, he was working for the West family. That went a long way in alleviating any fear she might have that he was a nut.
After she’d left the café and Hank that afternoon, she’d gone straight to the sheriff’s office and met with Zack West. He’d assured her that they were doing everything in their power to find Lainie’s killer.
“But I’ll be straight with you, Melody. We don’t have any real leads and your sister didn’t have a conventional lifestyle.”
“The night of the murder she left a message on my answering machine and told me she was going out with somebody new. I don’t suppose you’ve identified who that might have been?” she’d asked.
Zack shook his head, his green eyes sympathetic. “Not yet. But I’ve told your mother and I’m telling you, I won’t rest until we have the killer behind bars.”
She’d left the office satisfied that Zack and his men were doing everything they could to solve the crime, but unsure just how successful they would be.
As irrational as it was, she felt as if she were the only one who could find the answers. She was the one who had known Lainie better than anyone and she owed it to her sister to help her rest in peace. The only way that would happen was if Lainie’s murderer was found and punished.
The soft knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts and she hurried to answer. Hank had underdressed for the night as well. Clad in tight worn jeans and a black T-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders, he looked both slightly dangerous and capable of handling anything that might come his way.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked as she grabbed her purse from the sofa.
“Are you sure you want to?” she countered.
He flashed her a small smile. “I’m in if you are.”
“Then let’s go.” She locked the door behind her and together they left the building and walked out into the warm night air.
“We’ll take my car,” he said as he pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “If we run into any problems I know mine has the horsepower we need to make a fast getaway.” He gestured toward a bright red sports car, a larger model that seated four.
“Definitely better horsepower than my rental,” she agreed. “Are you expecting trouble?”
He shrugged. “I like to be a good Boy Scout and be prepared for anything.” He opened the passenger door and she slid inside, then watched as he went around the front of the car to the driver’s side.
She drew a tremulous sigh. Hank Tyler had been attractive in his dress slacks and shirt, but he looked like pure sin in those jeans and T-shirt. His dark hair fell carelessly over his forehead and only added to his lethal look.
“You don’t need that kind of distraction,” she muttered to herself as he slid in behind the steering wheel.
Fastening her seat belt, she tried to ignore the scent of him, a pleasant fragrance that reminded her of sunshine and sandalwood. “You must have moved into the town houses right around the time Lainie did,” she said, determined to keep her focus on the matter at hand.
He started the engine with a roar and pulled out onto the street. “She moved in a couple of weeks before me and Maddie. The first night we were there she brought over a little basket of soaps she’d collected from hotel rooms over the years.” He smiled. “She said she didn’t have any fruit and refused to bake a cake, but wanted to welcome us and bring us something. Maddie still uses the soaps. She says they’re just her size.”
A new edge of grief crawled up in the back of Melody’s throat as she thought of her sister. “Lainie loved hotel soap and shampoo. When any of us stayed at a hotel, we always grabbed the freebies for her.”
They cruised slowly down Main Street and Melody looked at him curiously. “Where were you before coming here? You mentioned something about Texas?”
“Just south of Dallas. My grandfather was an Oklahoma oil man, and when he passed away he left me an embarrassingly large inheritance. I used it to buy a ranch. I raised cattle and horses.”
“What made you decide to leave it all and come back to Cotter Creek?”
In the illumination from the dashboard she saw his hands tighten slightly on the steering wheel. “My wife died.” The words fell flat, with no other information offered.
It was obviously a topic he didn’t want to discuss. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Thanks.”
They were silent for several minutes. So, he wasn’t a stranger to grief, she thought. She realized that’s what he’d meant earlier when he’d told her that his daughter had suffered enough loss in her life.
Her heart ached for Maddie, who had lost a mother so early in life. Melody knew what it was like to lose a parent. She’d lost her father when she’d been ten, and while Fred had stepped in as a father figure and support, it would never be the same as having her own dad in her life.
A new tension filled her as Hank turned off the main road and onto a gravel road that led to the Edge. Was she foolish to think that she could get information that Zack West couldn’t? Perhaps. All she knew was that she needed to try.
“Looks like a full house,” he said as the place came into view. A sprawling one-story building, it was weathered to a dark gray with neon signs in the windows that advertised a variety of beer.
Motorcycles were parked in a row by the front door and the parking lot was filled with pickups and cars. A group of men stood just outside the front door, their cowboy hats pulled low in tough-guy fashion.
Hank found an empty parking space and pulled in, then together they got out of the car. As they approached the door, Hank threw an arm across her shoulder in a proprietary fashion. She welcomed it, was glad that he was with her as the men eyed her up and down with drink-induced boldness.
Hank met their stares with a hint of challenge as he and Melody passed them to go inside. Anxiety twisted in her stomach as they entered the dim, noisy, smoky tavern.
Hank pointed to two empty stools at the bar and Melody quickly beelined for them. “Two beers,” Hank said to the bartender, a young man with tattooed arms and a pierced ear.
“Bottle or tap?”
“Bottle,” Melody said. She wasn’t sure she wanted to drink from any glass the place had to offer.
The bartender set the beer in front of them and Hank tossed a bill on the counter. “Is Harry in?” She had to yell to be heard above the sound of the band that was playing on a platform stage at the other end of the place.
The bartender glanced at his wristwatch and then shook his head. “He usually shows up around ten or so.”
“Can you let me know when he gets here?” she asked.
He nodded and moved down the bar to serve another customer. “Who’s Harry?” Hank asked. He leaned so close to her she felt his warm
