had to be sure they didn’t find anything. Once Boone went back to Whitehorse, he figured he wouldn’t have to worry anymore.
He told himself that the little gal partner, C.J. West, wouldn’t be searching the office if she knew anything. Also if she knew, he would have heard by now.
She suspected the hit-and-run hadn’t been an accident. But there was no proof. Nor did he think the cops were even looking all that hard. He’d seen something on the news and only a footnote in the newspaper. Hank Knight had been a two-bit PI nobody. Look at that heap of an office he worked out of.
He tried to reassure himself that he was in the clear. That nothing would come of any of this. He’d done what he’d had to do and he would do it again. His hands began to shake at the thought, though, of being forced to kill yet another person, especially a woman.
But if she and Boone didn’t stop, he’d have no choice.
* * *
C.J. HATED TO admit that the cowboy might be right. Before Boone McGraw had walked into this office, she’d been sure Hank’s death had something to do with one of his older cases. All of his newer cases that he’d told her about were nothing that could get a man killed—at least she didn’t think so.
Now she had to adjust her thinking. Could this be about the kidnapping? Her mind balked because Hank loved nothing better than to talk about his cases. He wouldn’t have been able not to talk about this one unless... Unless he did know something, something that he thought could put her in danger...
“Why do you think the hit-and-run wasn’t an accident?” the cowboy asked.
It took her a moment to get her thoughts together. “This ransacked office for one. Clearly someone was looking for something in the old files.”
“You’re that sure it involved a case?”
She waved a hand through the air. “Why tear up the office unless the killer is looking for the case file—and whatever incriminating evidence might be in it?”
He nodded as if that made sense to him. “But if it was here, don’t you think that whoever did this took the file with him?”
“Actually, I don’t. Look at this place. I’d say the person got frustrated when he didn’t find it. Otherwise, why trash the place?”
“You have a point. But let’s say the file you’re looking for is about the McGraw kidnapping. It wouldn’t be an old file since he called only a few weeks ago. When did he turn off his phone and electricity here at the office?”
C.J. hated to admit that she didn’t know. “We’ve both been busy on separate cases. But he would have told me if he knew anything about the case.” He wouldn’t have kept something like that from her, she kept telling herself. And yet he hadn’t mentioned talking to the McGraw lawyer and her instincts told her that Boone McGraw wasn’t lying about that.
That Hank now wouldn’t have the opportunity to tell her hit her hard. Hank had been like family, her only family, and now he was gone. And she was only starting to realize how much Hank had been keeping from her.
She had to look away, not wanting Boone to see the shine of tears that burned her eyes. She wouldn’t break down. Especially in front of this cowboy.
“If Hank did know something about the case, would he have started a file?” the cowboy asked as he picked up a stack of files from the floor, straightened them and then stacked them on the edge of the desk.
“He would have written something down, I suppose.”
“But wouldn’t have started a file.”
C.J. sighed. “No, but you’re assuming a twenty-five-year-old kidnapping is what got him killed. It wasn’t the kind of case he worked. Not to mention that Butte is miles from Whitehorse, Montana. The chances that Hank knew anything about the kidnapping or the whereabouts of your sister, Jesse Rose—”
“Are slim. I agree. But I can’t discount it. He called our attorney. He knew something or he wouldn’t have done that. I don’t think he was curious and I don’t think you do, either.”
She wanted to argue. The cowboy brought that out in her. But she couldn’t. “Fine, let’s say he did know something.”
“So where are his notes?”
C.J. shot him a disbelieving glance as she raised her hands to take in the ransacked room. “Let me just grab them for you.”
“I’d be happy to help you look.”
“I don’t need your help,” she said. “For all I know, you’re the one who tore the place apart.”
“And then came back to confront you and pretend to look for my own file? How clever of me. If I couldn’t find it when this place wasn’t a mess, why would I think you could now?”
She saw the logic, but hated to admit it. “Or maybe you didn’t find what you were looking for and hope that I’ll find it for you.”
He grinned. “I admire the way your mind works, though I find it a little disturbing.”
C.J. bristled. Was he flirting with her?
“You really think I’m the killer cozying up to the partner? Pretty darned gutsy of me.” He shook his head. “Hit-and-run is a coward’s way of killing. Your killer wouldn’t have the guts to come waltzing in here and face you.” He had a point. “But don’t you want to call the cops and report the break-in before you destroy any more evidence?”
* * *
“I ALREADY CALLED THEM.”
Boone heard the anger in her voice as he noticed the old photographs framed on the walls. “They weren’t helpful?” he asked as he got up to inspect them with the flashlight on his cell phone. The snapshots were of the same man, Hank Knight, no doubt, with a variety of prominent men and women and even a couple of celebrities. From the looks of the photos they were old. Which meant Hank Knight had been doing this for years.
“The local cops, helpful?” C.J. let out a laugh. “They don’t believe the hit-and-run was murder because we normally don’t take those kinds of cases.”
“I would think any kind of case could turn violent under the wrong circumstances,” he said, turning from the photographs on the wall. “Look, I’m not leaving town until I get some answers. So what do you say? Let me at least help you look through the files. Other than one on the McGraw kidnapping, what are we looking for?”
She glanced up at him and her gaze softened a little toward him as he took off his coat and rolled up the sleeves of his Western shirt. “Fine. While you’re looking for something on the kidnapping, keep an eye out for any recent entries, even in the old files.” She showed him what to look for on one of the files. “Hank had his own way of doing things.”
“I can see that,” Boone said as he scooped up more folders.
“We did work closely. Until recently. I did a lot of the legwork. I have to admit, the last few weeks... I hadn’t seen much of Hank.”
So, just as he’d guessed, she was
