Page 34 of Lawman’s Witness

They’d gone up to a lounge on her hotel room floor last night so she could tell him her news. She’d understood why he didn’t want to talk at the police station. She hadn’t been comfortable talking in her hotel room. Neither had he.

They’d ordered food and beverages from room service and ate while she’d told him all about the redhead she’d seen in the dealership parking lot and on impulse had followed her to Marshall’s office.

That hadn’t surprised him. But the conversation she’d overheard had. Clearly, she hadn’t heeded his advice to stay clear of Marshall.

She had proceeded to tell him how she’d followed the woman to her house in Park City, south of Billings. “I had no idea what I was going to say when she opened the door, and then I saw a photograph of a woman on a table in her entryway and recognized her as the woman I saw murdered. Her name is Whitney Clark, and she’s been missing for just over two weeks, so the timeline adds up.”

“This woman you spoke with—”

“Liz Baker, soon to be Jones. Divorce.”

“—she knows for certain Marshall was seeing her friend.”

“She saw him leaving the house Whitney had been renting in Laurel. I have her cell number.” She had pulled out her phone and given it to him.

He hadn’t been able to contain his smile. “And you thought you wouldn’t make a good investigator.”

She had flushed at his words. “I was so good that I didn’t notice the large dark car that followed me to Liz’s house—and then to my hotel. I’m worried about Liz. Jack Marshall now knows where she lives.”

“You definitely make one hell of a detective,” he’d told her. “But I’m worried that both you and Liz Baker are now in danger. He knows where you’re both staying. I suggest you move to another hotel. I’ll see what I can do about getting Liz to leave her house for a while since now she’s in danger—just like you.”

She had agreed to move, and they finished their meals, talking until it was late. He’d carried her suitcase out to her car, and she’d followed him to another hotel in his neighborhood.

Even with all the new information, including the missing woman’s name and a friend who would swear Marshall and Whitney Clark were having an affair, Russ knew it wasn’t enough to open an investigation.

But he also knew he would have to take the information to the chief and let the chips fall where they may. He planned to go into the office after seeing Amy Sue this morning. He’d wanted to make sure she was all right first. He should have known she would be.

Last night before he’d left her at another hotel, they’d stood just inside the empty lobby. He had desperately wanted to take her in his arms, tell her he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Hell, what he really wanted to do was kiss her.

But it was inappropriate given that he was the detective and she was the eyewitness—even if there wasn’t a case, because he had to believe that there would be a case and Marshall would go down for homicide.

As he approached her this morning, he felt almost shy. Their first encounter at the police station hadn’t gone well, but their lunch together had gone better, he thought. She’d made it clear even at the fast-food place that she didn’t trust him, yet she’d called him on his cell rather than 911 when she was in trouble last night. That gave him hope. They’d gotten close last night, but could he hope that she might share any of his feelings when this was over? She seemed wary, as if she’d been betrayed before. They had that in common, he thought. They were both leery, as they should be when it came to falling in love. But this, whatever it was sparking between them, felt like a fresh beginning for them both.

As he reached her, she looked up, her smile broadening, giving him hope. He noticed the way her blue eyes changed colors. At the police station they’d been more gray, but here in this light, they were a clear, Montana-summer-sky blue.

He glanced around the hotel lobby, then at her. “Wanna go somewhere?” To his surprise, she nodded. “There’s a café not far from here where we can have some privacy and maybe even breakfast if you’re hungry.”

She chuckled. “Are you really worried about keeping me fed, or is it just an excuse to spend time with me?”

He grinned, shaking his head. “I must be so transparent,” he said as he led her out the door. They walked the few blocks to the café through the crisp early June morning. The mountains in the distance were still snowcapped. Summer was still probably another snowstorm away.

The café was hardly ever busy with mostly locals who lived close by in the blue-collar neighborhood. The gray-haired waitress said, “Mornin’, Russ. Whatcha need?” He glanced at Amy Sue, who seemed amused that everyone they’d come across in the café seemed to know him.

“Coffee. Black,” she said.

“Two coffees and two of your pineapple Danish.” He glanced guiltily at Amy Sue. “My weakness,” he said as he led her through the café to a private room at the back.

They took a seat and waited for their coffees and the Danishes. The waitress showed up only moments later with a cup of coffee in each hand, the plate of Danish balancing on her wrist. She smoothly deposited all of it with a cheerful, “Enjoy!” and left, closing the door after her.

“You come here often?” Amy Sue joked.

“I spent time here with my grandparents on my mother’s side. Been coming here for years. My grandfather was the cook, my grandmother the baker. You should try the Danish. It’s her recipe.” He saw her surprise. He also saw her relax a little. What time they’d been thrown together they’d talked about the murder, Marshall, evidence, their frustration. He liked seeing her relax here.

They talked about their childhoods, his on the ranch and here in this café, hers on the family ranch and farm outside of Dry Gulch. There was so much he wanted to say to her, he just hoped they had the time for him to do it.

It surprised Amy Sue and worried her a little as to how much she was enjoying being here with this cowboy detective. So it was no wonder that when the conversation turned personal, she steered it back. “My sister thinks Jack Marshall might have killed before.”

He nodded. “I don’t believe it was the first time he’s done something like this.”