her, he told himself as he stepped back inside the door. Mark was still on the phone.
“The only deputy close to town is Harp,” Mark said, covering the phone with his hand and making an it-will-be-all-right face. The county was large and the sheriff’s department was small. It meant stretching law enforcement to its limits sometimes. It was one reason Flint would love to get rid of Harp and get a better deputy.
Flint groaned silently. Deputy Harper Cole was the last person he wanted to depend on right now. He knew why Mark couldn’t go himself. He was protecting the possible crime scene—and Flint. If the DCI became involved, the first suspect was always the boyfriend. He listened to him tell Harp what to do at the Duma house.
“Get inside. Be polite. Try to have a look around and see if anything appears amiss. If Celeste and her husband will let you search the place without a warrant, great. Nice if you could check her car. Just listen, please.” Mark sighed. “Maggie Thompson is missing. Yes, the sheriff’s girlfriend. Now listen. Look for blood. I can’t get into it right now. There could have been an accident involving Celeste and Maggie. Call me if there is any question.” He turned back to Flint as he disconnected. “Harp is actually the best choice right now. No one takes him seriously. If you’re right about Celeste, she won’t be concerned about Harp showing up and should let him in without a warrant. That will save us time.”
Flint tried to breathe a little easier. “Great. I’m forced to depend on the town hero.”
Mark sighed. “It is going to be all right.”
A few months ago, Harp had managed to save two people’s lives. One of those lives belonged to Flint’s brother Darby. The other was Darby’s now wife, Mariah Ayers Cahill. Flint had been ready to fire the deputy before that night and would have months ago if Harp hadn’t been the mayor’s son. He’d given him more chances because of it. But Flint had reached his limit. He’d told Harp that if he messed up again... Then Harp had come through that night and was now the town hero. At least until he messed up big-time again.
And that was why Flint wished it was anyone but Harp going over to Celeste’s house. He knew his ex-wife. If she was behind this, she would lie. Flint would know if she was lying. He doubted Harp would.
He raked a hand through his hair as he glanced toward the fallen bookshelf. As crazy as he thought his ex was, he never really thought she was capable of...of whatever had happened here.
“We don’t know for sure it was Celeste,” Mark said.
Just as they didn’t know that she’d vandalized Maggie’s salon and almost set her house on fire? “She’s certainly capable. But if she did something to Maggie...” Flint couldn’t continue.
Mark laid a hand on his shoulder. “We don’t even know that the blood is Maggie’s. One step at a time. We’ll find her.”
He nodded, but he knew the statistics. The first seventy-two hours were crucial. But that wasn’t if the missing person was injured. He had no idea how badly Maggie had been bleeding. Maggie hadn’t been missing long. If they could find her soon... Otherwise, he knew he might never see her alive again.
“Why haven’t we heard from Harp yet?” Flint demanded.
“He hasn’t even had time to get over there. You need to stay calm. We have to work this one step at a time. Is there anyone else who might want to harm Maggie?”
“No.” He’d answered the question too quickly. Mark was looking at him with concern. “I don’t know. The only person she’s had run-ins with that I know of was Celeste.” He realized he didn’t know if Maggie had had other problems with anyone. Maggie was so independent. He loved that about her, but now he wondered if she would have told him if she’d had trouble with anyone else.
Celeste was a different story since she was his ex. Maggie seemed to think that he could do something about her. Now he sure wished he had.
The undersheriff looked around the room for a moment. “You keep the doors locked when you aren’t home?”
He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he shook his head. “Also, I’ve never changed the locks from when Celeste and I lived here together. She probably still has a key.”
Mark gave him a disapproving look before he asked, “I’m assuming you didn’t touch anything?”
Flint heard something in his voice. “No—you know I didn’t. You aren’t thinking about kicking me from this case—”
“No, I can’t. As you know, in the state of Montana, the sheriff is an elected office. Not even the county commissioners can pull you off a case.”
“Only the Division of Criminal Investigation,” Flint said, suddenly aware of where his undersheriff was going with this.
“I’m hoping to know what we’re dealing with before we call in a DCI team,” Mark said. “You agree?”
A part of him wanted the criminologists on this as quickly as possible. But once they called in the DCI, the team might decide because Maggie was his girlfriend that he be put on a leave of absence. He’d be off the case. He couldn’t bear the thought. Silently, he swore. They had to find Maggie before he was locked out of this investigation. As it was, his house was now a crime scene.
* * *
DEPUTY HARPER COLE cruised down the street toward the Duma house. He wondered what this really was about. Maggie Thompson was missing? There had to be more to it than that. He had tried to ask, but the undersheriff had cut him off. Clearly both Mark and Flint still didn’t have any faith in his abilities. It pissed him off. He was a hero.
Well, at least everyone thought he was. Everyone but his pregnant girlfriend, Vicki. Why had he confessed everything to her that morning in the hospital after he’d almost died? He’d been feeling guilty, amazed he was still alive, and apparently he’d felt the need to confess to someone. But Vicki?
Now he was stuck with her. She could hold it over his head for the rest of their lives because if the truth about that night ever came out...
Harp shuddered at the thought. He would be the laughingstock of town instead of a hero. Worse, he’d be fired. He’d have to leave town. He might never get another job in law enforcement and he’d gotten damned attached to carrying a gun and being “the man.”
Now he slowed in front of the Duma house. Here he was again, dealing with something connected to the sheriff. Maggie Thompson was allegedly missing? So what was he doing here?
He parked in front of the sheriff’s ex-wife’s house and warned himself not to screw this up. Reading between the lines of what the undersheriff had said, Mark thought Celeste Duma had done something to the sheriff’s girlfriend.
Smiling, he climbed out. He loved this sort of small-town drama, especially when it involved the sheriff. It surprised him Flint wasn’t the one coming over here himself. Flint must be going crazy with worry. Why else would he let Mark be calling the shots?
He covered the butt of his gun with his hand as he walked toward the front door. There was no car parked in the drive. As he passed a window in the garage, he peered in. Empty. This was going to be a waste of time. No one was home.
Ringing the bell, he glanced around the neighborhood. It was a much nicer one than where he and Vicki lived. She’d talked him
