Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
“Weeks. And it won’t tell us much since there’s no hair follicle. We’ll be able to match the hair to a suspect if we have one, but it won’t prove anything conclusive. Duke interacted with everyone, baby. The hair could have been there for months or it could have been left behind a day ago.”
“The length suggests it’s a woman’s hair.”
Logan nodded.
“I can’t see a woman killing Duke, though. He may have been in his fifties, but he was still strong. The only way a woman could have killed Duke is if she snuck up behind him and bashed him in the head. And even then, I don’t know many women strong enough to move a body. Unless they were out on the water together and she shoved him overboard—which makes no sense since he liked to fish alone—then how did she dispose of him?”
“So what does that tell you?”
I sighed and sank farther into my seat. “That the hair probably isn’t related to Duke’s disappearance.”
“We’ll figure this out. Concentrate on the bar, on the carnival, and leave this to me. You’ve got enough on your plate.”
With all that had happened in the past twelve hours, I had forgotten about Chance and the threat to my family. Thank God for Kenzie. She was a lifeline. If I had to worry about Duke and the bar, I would have still been a mess.
Thinking about Kenzie and Duke reminded me of my conversation with Kenzie the day before. I sat upright and turned to Logan. “I forgot Kenzie was waiting to talk to Duke. I guess she’ll have to talk to you now.”
Logan reached over and started rubbing my shoulder, digging his fingers deep into the tissue. The past day must have settled in those muscles because I moaned a little and relaxed back into the seat.
“What did she need to talk to Duke about?”
“Chance scared her.”
His fingers paused their delectable torture for a moment. “Scared her how?”
I glanced at Logan and caught a scowl working across his features. “She said he showed up at her house with war paint smeared across his face.”
His eyes shot to mine in confusion. “Is that supposed to mean something?”
“Like a declaration of war?”
“Yeah.”
“I think so. Justice was half Flathead, but he really didn’t intermingle with his people. I was a little surprised, honestly, since Chance hadn’t grown up in the culture. Flatheads are normally peaceful. They didn’t war against the white man like some tribes did. Their biggest enemy was the Blackfeet and they only fought them for their territory and food. As a whole they are a peaceful nation.”
Logan seemed to ponder that as Ennis unfolded before us on the next bend. I glanced at the mortuary as we headed down Main Street toward the bar, a tight knot in my throat forming instantly. The snowstorm had covered it with a pristine blanket of white, concealing the loss and devastation. Ennis had lost three cherished residents in three days. Four if you counted Justice Bear. But no one would mourn his loss except Chance.
“I can’t remember a time we had four deaths so close together. Most of our older residents move to warmer climates when the cold gets to them, so we don’t have many deaths per year. Just the occasional ranching accident or car crash.”
“Four? Who am I missing?”
“One of our older residents, Miss Ellie, stayed with her granddaughter rather than moving, and she died earlier in the week. Then there was Justice Bear, Frank, and now Duke—unless a miracle occurs.”
I’d called Josh on our way back and told him to meet us at the bar with Max. He was waiting for us on the sidewalk with a few of his friends and Max seemed to be the center of attention. I laughed when we pulled to a stop in front of the bar. Max sat perfectly still with a dog treat balanced on his nose. His marble-sized eyes stared down his nose in concentration. He was almost in a trance, while he waited for Josh to give his next command, and the only indication he gave that he knew Logan had returned was a quiver in his hindquarters and a slight thump of his tail.
I reached for the door handle, but Logan stopped me with his hand. When I turned to him, he jerked his head to the left and mumbled, “Jake.”
On the trip to Yellowstone the night before, I’d texted Jake to let him know what was going on and where I was going. He’d replied asking questions about Duke, but not about Logan and me. I hoped it was a good sign he was waiting for us.
Our eyes met through the windshield. Jake was leaning against the bar in the lazy way he had when he wanted to look cool for the girls. His gaze drifted to Logan and held, then narrowed. I moaned because I knew what that meant. He was still in protective brother mode and wasn’t finished with Logan.