“Unless it’s someone else entirely.”
“Yeah. Hold steady. And don’t do anything that will put you in the crosshairs.”
“I’ll do my best to stay alive. Thanks, Nick.” Cain ended the call.
Aldridge or Harwell? He and Bart had ended their partnership on a satisfactory note—at least at the time. But Cain had made a lot of money after he’d found moly on the claims they’d once owned together.
Aldridge flat-out hated his guts and made no bones about it.
Which one wanted him dead? Or was it someone else?
Unease slipped through him. No more walking down to the Star. Too much exposure that could make him an easy target. Too many spots for a shooter to hide.
He didn’t want to die of stupidity.
Cain thought of Jenny, and his unease deepened. He made his way to his private elevator and rode down to the lower floor. At least his shoulder was feeling better.
He checked the area around the parking lot before he walked outside. He needed to see Jenny. Will was a good man, but if it came down to life or death, he didn’t trust anyone but himself.
Crossing the lot, he climbed into the Jag that Denver had delivered after Cain had been released from the hospital. Sliding behind the wheel, he fired the powerful engine.
His instincts were nagging him.
He needed to be sure Jenny was safe.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
JENNY SAT BEHIND THE COMPUTER IN HER OFFICE. AFTERNELL ANDCleo left, she’d decided to do a little more digging, see if she could find anything more on the history of the Copper Star.
She had been Googling for a while, skimming through several well-known ghost stories, when she spotted an article that involved the hotel.
A prominent local woman, notorious for her violent temper and certain her husband had been having an affair with the town’s pretty schoolteacher, had left her room, gone downstairs to the café, and thrown carbolic acid into the teacher’s face.
“Wow,” Jenny thought, unable to imagine doing something so brutal.
The teacher had survived her injuries, and the woman, whose name was omitted, had been arrested. She’d been stunningly beautiful, the tale continued, the kind of woman men couldn’t resist. She’d been released after only two years, then arrested again after another attack on someone else.
After her death in an asylum in Los Angeles in 1951, her ghost had reportedly been seen upstairs in the Copper Star Hotel.
Jenny kept reading, discovered another story tied to the first. The woman’s daughter had secretly been seeing a young Mexican boy. After impregnating the girl, the young man was arrested and thrown into the local jail.
Town vigilantes were determined to hang the boy, but couldn’t get past the sheriff. They ended up setting the jail on fire, and the sheriff had to shoot the young man in order to keep him from burning to death.
Jenny shivered and closed down her computer. One more reminder why Jerome had been called the Wickedest Town in the West.
Walking out of the office, she found Will waiting exactly where she had left him.
“I need some air,” she said. “One more trip up to the library should do it. Are you game?”
“There’s a lot of open space between here and the library. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
He’d been reticent the first time, but Jenny looked forward to any excuse to get outside, into the crisp, early-November air. It was overcast this afternoon, with heavy rain predicted sometime in the next few days. It might be her last chance.
She smiled up at Will. “This is my final trip, I promise.”
Will nodded, and Jenny headed for the door in the hotel lobby. When she opened it, Will stepped in front of her to check the street, then shoved open the door.
“Looks okay,” he said, walking out onto the sidewalk to survey the area. “Not many folks around today.”
