A Breath Away

Laney returned to her table with fresh butter. “You are not an asgi’na, a ghost, are you? No, you are the little Baker girl come back, heh?”

Violet nodded, aware that a few of the other patrons pivoted to check her out. And some still tensed when Laney used Cherokee words.

“Yes, ma’am. I came back to bury my father.”

“Oh, my.” Laney flattened a weathered hand on her cheek. “I’m so sorry. I hadn’t heard of your edata’s passing.”

The man with the fair hair smiled. Violet leaned toward Laney. “Who is that man, Laney?”

She cast a look over her shoulder, then grinned. “The new doctor. Dr. Gardener. Handsome, huh?”

Violet shrugged, wondering why he was staring at her.

“The young women in town, they are all over him. But he seems to have eyes for you.”

“I’m not going to be here long enough to get to know anyone,” Violet said, hoping it was true.

A robust man at the bar swiveled on his stool, then dragged his bulk off and stalked toward her. Violet crouched back in her seat at the sight of his face. She would recognize his beady, unforgiving eyes anywhere.

Darlene’s father.

“How dare you show yourself in this town again!” His sharp voice rose, echoing off the tile floors, then he slammed his fist on the table in front of her, rattling the dishes. “Did you know your daddy killed my baby girl?”

GRADY HAD BEEN SURPRISED at the number of photos Baker had of his daughter. He’d also been startled at his own reaction of seeing the homely little girl emerge into a shy teenager. Judging from the smile on her face, she hadn’t recognized her own beauty.

There had been no pictures of boyfriends, though, prompting his curiosity about Violet’s personal past. An area he shouldn’t be concerned with at all.

Unfortunately, he and Logan hadn’t turned up anything that would implicate Baker in Darlene’s murder.

What had he expected? That Baker would have kept a souvenir all these years? Or a hidden file somewhere describing the secrets he shared with Grady’s father?

Grady glanced in the small bathroom one last time and frowned. The edge of the faded bath mat had shifted, probably caught on one of their boots. Underneath, the flooring was discolored, an unnatural shade lighter than the rest of the linoleum. He squatted down, peeled back the rug and examined it. It looked as if it had been scrubbed with bleach. Nothing else in the house appeared to have been cleaned in ages. Why here?

He remembered the knot on Baker’s head. He could have gotten it from a fall anywhere. Maybe even here. Grady leaned closer, studying the area for bloodstains.

The nagging doubts wouldn’t let go, so he retrieved some Luminol from the car and sprayed the flooring. His hunch was right. Traces of blood shone through. He took a couple of samples, hoping he was wrong about the source. Hoping there would be no traces of his father’s DNA in the mix.

But the argument between his dad and Baker echoed in his head. “Some reporter’s been asking about Violet,” Baker had said. Who was that reporter and why would he want to speak with Violet? And why had Baker been afraid of him?

Logan finished, then left for the station. Knowing he wouldn’t rest without answers, Grady decided to confront his father one more time. With Baker’s body in the morgue and Violet in town claiming her father’s innocence, it was time Walt Monroe started talking.

A JOLT OF FEAR BOLTED through Violet at the malevolence in Mr. Monroe’s eyes.

“Did you know your daddy killed my baby girl?” the man bellowed.

Violet shook her head.

“Then get the hell out of town.”

Violet chanced a look at the other patrons, who all sat gawking at the scene, either too stunned by the confrontation to move or too intimidated by Monroe.

All except Joseph Longhorse.

The Cherokee’s black eyes flared with contempt, reminding her of his temper. He started toward her—rather, toward Grady’s father.

But the last thing Violet wanted was to make a scene. She especially didn’t want Laney’s son to suffer at her expense. This was her problem. She’d deal with it.

“I understand how you feel, Mr. Monroe.”

“You don’t have any idea how I feel, Miss Baker.” A blood vessel throbbed in his forehead. “So don’t play your little game of innocence with me. It won’t work.”

“I’m not playing games,” Violet said, hating the quiver in her voice as she stood. “I just came here to bury my father. Then I’m leaving town.”

“If you know what’s good for you, get him in the ground and get out of here today.”

Joseph inched toward her, but she threw up a warning hand. Holding her head high, she dug inside her purse, dropped some cash on the table, mouthed a thank-you to Laney, then turned and strode to the door.

She didn’t breathe easy until she reached the car.

What had she expected? For Grady’s father to welcome her or act concerned about her feelings? And what about the other people in town? Did they believe her dad was a murderer?

Part of her wanted to drive straight out of town, but she had to talk to people, find out if anyone had known her father the last few years. Learn everything she could about him and the life he’d led.

Her resolve intact, she started the car and headed to the cemetery. She had been sent away before Darlene’s funeral. And she’d never returned to visit her friend’s grave.

It was time she did, and said goodbye.

HE WAS WATCHING HER.

Enjoying the view of her tantalizing skin, so pale beneath the blinding noonday sun.

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