“Maybe whoever it is doesn’t believe that. They think you’re guilty—whether you actually did anything to them or not.”
Cain sat back in his chair and breathed a sigh. It made a sad kind of sense. “So where do I start?”
“Start with the present and work backward. Nothing like this has ever happened before, so whatever you did—inadvertently or otherwise—must have happened recently.”
He nodded. “Good logic.” Though it might not be correct.
“You just went to Scottsdale. You said your company is buying a business.”
“Titan Transport,” Cain said.
“How long have you been working on it?”
“A little over six months.”
“So before King was stolen?”
“That’s right.”
“Was there someone on either side of the deal who didn’t want the sale to go through?”
Cain looked at the blank computer screen. “Okay, I get it.” He smiled. “You should have been a lawyer—or a detective.”
Jenny grinned. “Thanks.”
Cain spun the desk chair around and pulled her onto his lap. “I can think of something a lot more fun than making a list of people who hate me.” He kissed her, gently, then more thoroughly.
Cain cursed himself as he thought of what Nick had subtly warned, that whoever had stolen his stallion might go as far as hurting Jenny. Reluctantly, he set her on her feet.
“I need to do this,” he grumbled.
“Yes, you do. I brought some reading with me. I’ll leave you to it.”
“Opal’s still here. I’ll call down, have her fix a tray and leave it in the oven. When I’m finished, I’ll have someone bring it up, and we can eat.”
“And afterward?” Jenny teased.
Desire tightened his groin. His gaze ran over her, taking in her sexy curves. “Afterward, I’m sure we can think of something to do.”
Jenny laughed.
* * *
Sitting in Cain’s living room the following morning, Jenny read through the rest of the books she had purchased at the museum. There were dozens of ghost stories, some a repeat of what she had read last night or heard before.
In the saloon at the Copper Star, a number of patrons had reportedly seen a short Mexican man with a big mustache standing near the bar. A customer had even taken a photo of the hazy figure.
Apparently, he was an actual man named Kito, who had frequented the barroom, cardrooms, and billiard tables in the saloon.
Her heart ached at the story of a young Mexican girl who was impregnated by one of the wealthy town bigwigs. The girl was taken out to Hulk Canyon and shoved over a cliff. People said her spirit walked the town in search of justice.
Lots of stories. No way to know if any of them were true, or which ones might have resulted in a spirit being locked between this world and the next—if there even was such a thing.
She thought of the call she had received from Nell. Cleopatra Swift would meet her this afternoon in the lobby of the Copper Star.
It was going to be interesting to hear what the woman had to say.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
