Snowblind Justice. Cindi Myers

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      The man who had once proposed to her. She felt unsteady on her feet, seeing him here in this house again after so long. And if she was upset, her family was going to be furious.

      “Hello, Emily.” He grinned, his full lips curving over even, white teeth, eyes sparking with a blatant sex appeal that sent a bolt of remembered heat straight through her. “You’re looking well.” A single furrow creased his brow. “Though I have to ask—what is that you’re wearing?”

      She looked down at the prom dress, the hem lopped off and bristling with pins, one ruffle hanging loose where Lacy had started to detach it. She looked back up at Brodie, feeling a little like she had been hit on the head and was still reeling from the blow. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

      “As it happens, the Colorado Bureau of Investigation sent me here to help your brother with a case,” he said. “I hear you’ve got a serial murderer problem.”

      “Does Travis know you’re coming?” Her brother hadn’t said anything to her. Then again, he was probably trying to spare her feelings.

      “He requested assistance from the CBI, though he doesn’t know it’s me. Is that going to be a problem?”

      She bit her lower lip. “I don’t know.”

      “It’s been five years, Emily,” he said.

      Right. But it might have been five minutes for all the pain that was twisting her stomach. She hadn’t expected to react like this. She was supposed to be over Brodie. “You never answered my letter,” she said.

      The crease across his brow deepened. “You sent me a letter?”

      “You mean you don’t even remember?” The words came out louder than she had intended, and she forced herself to lower her voice. “I tried calling, but your number had been changed. Travis found out you’d been transferred to Pueblo, so I wrote to you there.”

      He shook his head. “I never received your letter. Why did you write?”

      Did he really not know? She pressed her hand to her stomach, hoping she wasn’t going to be sick. This was too awful. “It doesn’t matter now.” She turned away and tried to make her voice light. “Like you said, it was five years ago. I’m sure Travis will appreciate your help with the case.” Her brother was nothing if not a professional.

      Brodie was silent, though she could feel his eyes boring into her. She began looking through the stack of packages. “I’ll ask again,” he said after a moment. “What is that you’re wearing?”

      “It’s a prom dress,” she managed.

      “Isn’t it the wrong time of year for prom? And aren’t you in graduate school?”

      Her eyes widened and she froze in the act of reaching for a package. “How did you know I’m in graduate school?”

      “I might have checked up on you a time or two. They don’t have proms in graduate school, do they?”

      He’d checked up on her. Should she be flattered, or creeped out? “It’s the new thing. Haven’t you heard?” She continued scanning the labels on the boxes. She picked up the one that surely held her bridesmaid’s dress. Maybe instead of stuffing the prom dress back into her closet, she’d burn it at Wednesday night’s bonfire. That would be appropriate, wouldn’t it?

      “What is all this?” Brodie swept his hand to indicate the piles of boxes, bits of tulle, sewing supplies, silk flowers and other flotsam piled around the room. “Are you getting ready for a big party?”

      “Travis is getting married on Sunday,” Emily said. “I guess you didn’t know.” Then again, why would he? He and Travis had stopped being friends five years ago.

      “No, I didn’t know. Good for him. Who’s the lucky woman?”

      “Her name is Lacy Milligan. I’m sure you don’t know her.”

      “No, but I know of her. Now it’s coming back to me.” He grinned. “Lacy is the woman Travis arrested for murder—then after new evidence came to light, he worked to clear her name. I remember the story now, though I didn’t know a wedding was in the offing.”

      It hadn’t taken long for the media to latch onto the story of a wrongly accused woman falling in love with the law enforcement officer who had sent her to prison in the first place, then worked to clear her name. Most of the state was probably familiar with the story by now, but Emily didn’t want to discuss it with Brodie. “Travis is at his office in town,” she said, deciding it was past time to send Brodie on his way. “It’s on Main. You can’t miss it.”

      Before he could answer, her cell phone buzzed and she grabbed it off a nearby table. “Hello?”

      “Hey.” Travis’s greeting was casual, but his voice carried the tension that never left him these days. “I was trying to get hold of Lacy, but I can’t get through on her phone.”

      “I think she’s talking to Paige, letting her know the highway is open.”

      “She’s terrible about checking her messages, so do me a favor and tell her I’m not going to be able to take her to dinner today. I’m sorry, but we’ve had a break in the case.”

      Emily’s heart leaped. “Have you made an arrest?”

      “Not exactly, but we know who the killers are. One of them is dead, but the other is still on the loose.”

      “A second murderer?” Travis had long suspected the Ice Cold Killer might be more than one man. If he had caught one of the killers, surely that meant he was closing in on the second. Maybe the case would be solved before the wedding after all. “Lacy will be glad to hear it,” Emily said.

      “Maybe not so glad when you tell her I have to miss dinner. I need to focus on tracking down the second man.”

      Which meant he probably wouldn’t be home to sleep, either. “Travis, you can’t keep working around the clock like this.”

      “We’re going to get some help. The Colorado Bureau of Investigation has agreed to loan us one of their investigators. Now that the road is open, he—or she—should be showing up anytime.”

      She glanced over her shoulder at Brodie, who was looking out the window. The past five years had been kind to him, filling out his shoulders, adding a few fine lines around his eyes. He wore his hair a little longer than when she’d last seen him, and sunlight through the window picked out the gold streaks in the brown. Add in chiseled cheekbones, a dimpled chin and a straight nose and it was no wonder he could be mistaken for a model or a movie star.

      As if sensing her staring at him, he turned and met her gaze, then cocked one eyebrow, lips half-curved in a mocking smile.

      “Emily? Are you still there?” Travis asked.

      “Um, your help from the CBI is here,” she said. “It’s Brodie Langtry.” Not waiting to hear Travis’s reaction, she thrust the phone at Brodie. It’s Travis, she mouthed.

      Brodie took the phone. “Travis! It’s been a long time. I’m looking forward to working with you on

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