Official Duty Page 2

  CULLY HAD WAITED all day for the coroner’s report. It came just as he’d locked the door of his office behind him and was halfway down the steps to the street.

  He was looking forward to getting home. Nothing eased the stress of a hard day faster than the snuffling sounds of welcome his horses gave him when he walked into his stables. Their earthy smell, their rough hair beneath his fingers, the nudge of a cold nose against his cheek, all of it was his reward for having made it through another day.

  Soon after he’d been elected sheriff, he’d bought the modest horse ranch in the hopes of escaping some of the pressure and the pain that haunted him. Having practically grown up in the small town buried at the foot of Oregon’s Eastern mountains, he’d been around horses most of his life.

  Next to his dedication to upholding the law, horses were his greatest passion. There were times when dealing with the tragic side of life weighed heavily on his mind. Particularly the last two days. His horses helped lighten the load. Considerably. Mabel had been right when she’d told him he’d always be a cowboy at heart.

  When his cell phone jingled he reached for it, hoping it wasn’t another call that would take him away from his supper. Lyla Whittaker, his housekeeper, usually stayed long enough to serve him up a hot meal, unless he was late getting home. Those nights he had to make do with warming something up in the microwave. He wasn’t in the mood for the microwave tonight.

  He answered the phone with a curt, “Sheriff Black.”

  It was the coroner and he listened intently as the mild voice told him what he’d suspected all along. “Looks like they’d been dead about an hour or so before the crash. Guess you got a crime on your hands, Cully.”

  “Sure looks that way.” Cully briefly closed his eyes. Who in hell would want to hurt two of the most generous, neighborly people he’d ever known? It had to be a robbery. Not that the Corbetts had much to steal. They’d always lived a frugal life, not being ones to buy fancy cars or boats and the like. He couldn’t even remember them ever taking a vacation away from home. They’d given their lives to their foster kids, until they’d gotten too old to keep up with the work.

  He thanked the coroner and shoved his phone back in his pocket. First thing in the morning he’d apply for a warrant to go over the house. Take a look around. It was as good a place as any to start.

  In a hurry to get home now, he swung himself into his Jeep and started the engine. As far as he knew, the Corbetts had no family. No kids, no relatives to notify. Unless he found something in his search of their home that told him different. Maybe he’d find something that would tell him where Ginny had disappeared to. She needed to know what had happened. Too bad she’d miss the funeral in the morning. She would have wanted to be there.

  He tried to ignore the faint twinge of anticipation. It wouldn’t do to go getting any ideas about her. She was married now. He didn’t even know her married name, so it wasn’t likely he’d be able to track her down. In any case, she’d let him know long ago how she felt about him. Even if he found her, he sure as hell wasn’t giving her the chance to tell him all over again.

  THE FOLLOWING EVENING Ginny stood in the quiet luxury of her living room, the phone pressed anxiously against her ear. She’d promised herself that if she got no answer this time, she’d call the police and have them check out the Corbetts’ home. She would have done it last night, except that in Gold Peak the police meant the county sheriff and that meant Cully Black.

  Outside her window, the sultry Philadelphia heat shimmered on the cars parked in the parking lot. Kids ran barefoot in and out of the vehicles, their shouts muffled by the thick glass. Everything seemed so normal, yet her heart pounded unevenly as she waited, praying to hear Jim’s gruff voice on the other end of the line.

  Unbelievably, the line clicked open. Her gasp of relief echoed in her ears as she said breathlessly, “Jim? Where have you been? I’ve been so worried, I—”

  Shock slammed into her as the deep voice answered her. A voice quite different from Jim’s harsh tones. A voice that she recognized, even after all these years. “Ma’am? This is Sheriff Cully Black. I’m afraid Jim’s not here.”

  For what seemed like an eternity she struggled to get her breath. She needed to steady her voice, not to let him know he could still affect her. She waited so long he spoke again.

  “Ma’am?” Then his voice changed, dropping even lower. “Ginny? Is that you?”

  It had been so long since anyone had called her by that name. For just a second or two, she felt a tug of sweet nostalgia, until she remembered the last day she’d seen him. The day he’d shattered her dreams.

  Instinct urged her to hang up but then Mabel’s sweet face swam into her mind and she swallowed.

  Her fingers gripped the phone so hard she felt them cramp. The three thousand miles between them melted away and she felt as if he were right there in the room with her. She loosened her grip and struggled to keep her voice as casual as possible. “What are you doing there, Cully? Where’s Jim?” A rush of alarm tightened her nerves. “There’s nothing wrong with him, is there? Is Mabel there?”

  “Ginny…”

  She heard something else in his voice then and the chill spread rapidly throughout her body. For some idiotic reason she didn’t want to hear what he had to say and went on talking as if he hadn’t said her name in that awful tone that smacked of sympathy and sorrow. “Their answering machine doesn’t seem to be working and I was worried…”

  “Ginny, listen to me.”

  She pressed a hand over her mouth as she heard him say the unbelievable words. Mabel and Jim died in a car wreck on the mountain, both dead, funeral was yesterday.

  “No-o-o-o-o!” The hollow cry echoed around her living room, bounced off the colorless walls and beat mercilessly back into her ears. Vaguely she heard Cully’s voice repeating her name over and over but nothing made sense. Nothing. They couldn’t be dead. It had to be a mistake.

  “Ginny, please, don’t hang up.”

  Cully’s urgent voice finally penetrated the loud humming in her head. Holding back a sob, she whispered, “How did it happen?”

  “We don’t know.” He sounded ragged, weary, as if he hadn’t slept in days. He’d always had a huskiness in his voice—a sexy rawness that had once thrilled her to the core. But it was more pronounced now, as if every word he spoke were painful. “It was late at night. You know how that road winds down the mountain. It was dark, not much moonlight…”

  She couldn’t take any more. “I have to go. I can’t…”

  “Ginny, don’t hang up! Don’t!”

  The urgency in his words frightened her. “I’m sorry.” She gulped, afraid she was going to bawl right there into the phone. “I know it must be hard for you, too. But right now I don’t feel much like talking.”

  “Wait, I’ve been trying to find you.”

  His pause seemed fraught with tension. She gripped the phone, prepared to stand her ground if he asked her to come home. There was no point now.

  “Ginny, the will is being read in two days. You need to be there.”

  She shook her head at him, even though he couldn’t see her. “No, I don’t see why. I’m not a relative.”

  “Paul Bellman, he’s the Corbetts’ lawyer now. He needs you there.”

  She swallowed. “Did he say why?”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  Her mind raced with questions. She couldn’t be a beneficiary. The Corbetts had been her foster parents, as they had to dozens of kids in their lifetime. As far as she knew they had nothing to leave, anyway.

  “Ginny? Come home. You should be here. At least give me a number where I can reach you.”

  Her instincts, honed by months of hiding in the shadows, bunched into a solid wall. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  She felt sick, still unable to believe that the only real parents she had known were gone. Yet somewhere in there, she felt guilt, as well. She had never had the chance to say goodbye. T
he least she could do was visit their graves and say her goodbyes there. It would give her closure, if nothing else.

  Before she could change her mind again, she said sharply, “Never mind. I’ll come home. I’ll be there tomorrow.” She hung up then and gave herself up to the awful, tearing sobs of grief.

  THREE THOUSAND miles away, Cully let the receiver fall gently onto its rest. He should have told her all of it. He just hadn’t been able to bring himself to hurt her even more than she was already.

  This way he could give her a little time to get over the shock, before she found out that the Corbetts hadn’t died in an accident after all. Before he had to tell her that the couple she had loved as parents had been brutally murdered.

  Chapter Two

  It was late afternoon, the following day, when Ginny drove the white Taurus she’d rented into Gold Peak. There was only one motel in that whole miserable town and it was the last place on earth she wanted to stay. The motel had been built before she was born and the ancient, decaying building she remembered had not improved with time.

  She’d thought about staying in Rapid City, which at least boasted a halfway decent hotel but that meant driving the extra forty miles back to town and she was already exhausted. A sleepless night and the scramble to get on a plane early that morning had taken its toll.

  All the rooms had outside doors that faced onto the parking lot and the only way to reach the upper floor was by a weather-beaten flight of stairs. Rather than walk up those creaking steps, she asked for a room on the ground floor.

  The room, as it turned out, wasn’t quite as bad as she’d feared. The bedding, though shabby, looked reasonably clean and the plumbing at least seemed to be working. The seascape hanging above the headboard looked out of place—a poor attempt to make the room less forbidding. It failed miserably.

  Reminding herself that it was only for one night, she took a quick, refreshing shower and changed into shorts and a T-shirt.

  Seated on the edge of the bed, she studied the phone for a long time before finally reaching for it. After stabbing out Cully’s number, she waited, heart thumping unevenly, for him to answer.

  His voice sounded wary when he answered, as if he’d known it would be her calling.

  She spoke quickly, afraid her raw emotion would be misinterpreted. “Cully? This is Ginny. I’m at the Sagebrush Motel. I just got into town. I need to talk to you. Is now a good time?”

  A slight pause, then his voice, deeper now, drawled in her ear again. “It’s almost suppertime. How about I meet you at the Red Steer in a half hour? We can get a bite to eat and talk there.”

  She’d deliberately held the memories at bay as she’d driven into town. There were things she didn’t want to remember about her life in Gold Peak. But at the mention of the Red Steer tavern, the past surged back into her mind just as sharp and as painful as if it were just a few days ago.

  It was there at the Red Steer when she’d first stepped into Cully’s arms. He’d asked her to dance and, egged on by Sally Irwin, her best friend, she’d accepted the challenge in Cully’s dark eyes. The moment his arms had closed around her, she’d known that nothing would ever be the same again.

  “Ginny?”

  She jumped and answered quickly. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I just have a couple of questions, that’s all. I plan on visiting the graves, then getting to bed early. I have to drive back to the airport tomorrow.”

  “You gotta eat, don’t you?”

  “Well, yes, but I thought a pizza in my room…”

  “The steak’s still real good at the Red Steer. You always enjoyed a good steak. Besides, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “Can’t you tell me on the phone?”

  “I think it’s better if we discuss it in person. Over that steak and a cold beer.”

  She struggled with indecision, torn between the tantalizing prospect of a wonderful steak dinner and her deep reluctance to face Cully again. She hadn’t planned on meeting him in person. If it hadn’t been for something that had occurred to her late last night and had been bothering her all day, she wouldn’t even have called him.

  Then again, she was hungry. The airline food had been skimpy and unpalatable. And maybe what she needed to ask him was better done in person after all. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  She replaced the receiver, instantly regretting the impulse. Her mind in a whirl, she rummaged in her bag for the jeans she’d planned to wear on the plane the next day. After a lengthy debate with herself, she decided not to change the T-shirt. A dash of lipstick, a flick of the comb and she was ready. As ready as she was ever going to be, she thought ruefully.

  A few minutes later she drove out of the motel parking lot, followed by a grimy minivan. Its dark tinted windows made it difficult to see who drove it. She slowed to let it pass but it kept pace behind her, following her for the three miles to the tavern. Not surprising really, since there was only one road into town.

  Even so, the long months she’d spent hiding in the shadows had kept her constantly on guard, to the point where the most mundane thing could seem threatening.

  Driving down Main Street, she credited her shivery uneasiness to the memories that jarred her mind. The first time she’d stood, drained of emotion, in the huge living room of Mabel and Jim Corbett’s old house. The confusion of sharing her life with a dozen or so kids, all hurting inside like her, all afraid to trust.

  Cully had been one of those kids. Older than her by ten years, he’d left by the time she was nine. But if it hadn’t been for Cully, she never would have survived that first year in the foster home. She blinked hard, determined not to give in to the past. She’d left it all behind a long time ago. Too long ago.

  She parked in a familiar spot outside the Red Steer, noting with an absurd sense of relief that the minivan had passed on by. No matter how often she reminded herself that she no longer had anything to fear, it was tough to let go of the constant apprehension, the mistrust of anything unfamiliar.

  Her heart skipped when she saw the red Jeep Cherokee parked close to the entrance. It had to belong to Cully. He’d always been partial to red. She’d hoped to get there ahead of him—give herself time to reacquaint herself with the place before she had to deal with him.

  Every muscle in her body felt tight as she pushed through the swing doors that led into the dining room. The orange lamps, fastened to the walls in their wrought iron cages, were turned down low. The huge brick fireplace still dominated the room and in spite of the warmth outside, a crackling log fire spit flames up the massive chimney.

  She saw him at once. He was seated with his back to a window, facing the door as if he’d been watching for her. She pulled in a deep breath and walked unsteadily across the room, wishing like hell she’d listened to her instincts and ordered that pizza.

  Cully rose to his feet as she approached, his expression unreadable. He looked older, she noticed, and remembered with a shock that he was now forty-one years old. Deep creases etched the corners of his eyes. His hair, still springy and dark, showed no sign of gray, except for just above his ears at the temples.

  He’d filled out from the tall, lanky cowboy she remembered. His denim shirt stretched across a broad chest and beneath the rolled-up sleeves his upper arms were solid muscle. He wore the hard, tough look of a man who spent most of his days weathering the harsh environment of the mountains. It looked good on him. Too good.

  She reached the table and hesitated, wondering if she should shake hands or just sit down in the chair he’d pulled out. “It’s good to see you, Cully.” Even to her ears, her voice sounded stilted, almost hostile.

  Something flickered in his eyes, then he held out his hand. “You, too.”

  She watched her fingers briefly disappear in his warm, sunburned grip, then he let her go. His hand had felt strong, secure. It had been a mistake to come. She sat down, trying to figure out a way to get out of this gracefully.

  “I’
ve ordered the steaks,” Cully said, taking away her options. “I hope you still like ’em medium rare.”

  She nodded and slid her gaze away from the appraisal in his eyes. She must look older, too. God knows she felt every one of her thirty-one years.

  “You look real good, Ginny.”

  She started, remembering his uncanny ability to read her mind. From the first moment he’d set eyes on her, he seemed to know what she was thinking, even before she did.

  “I’m not Ginny anymore,” she said quietly. “My name is Justine now.”

  His answer unsettled her even more. “It makes no difference what fancy name you’ve given yourself. You’ll always be Ginny to me.”

  He’d teased her that first day, telling her it would be her job to milk the cows at the crack of dawn every morning. Then he’d patted her shoulder and promised he’d watch out for her. You don’t have to be afraid of nothing as long as I’m around, he’d said. Them cows are more afraid of you than you are of them. You just holler at ’em and watch ’em run.

  Grateful for his understanding, for the first time since arriving at that rambling old farmhouse, she’d smiled. He’d seemed so tall, so powerful. She remembered looking way up into his dark gray eyes and knowing somehow that here was someone she could trust.

  From then on she’d followed him around like Mary’s little lamb, until a short year later when he’d gone to help out on the Double K Ranch. The home she’d come to love had seemed empty after he’d gone.

  She made herself push the memories away.

  He sat twisting the mug of beer in front of him between his strong fingers, not looking at her. “I’m real sorry you had to come back to this. I know how you felt about Mabel and Jim. It must have hurt bad to hear what happened.”

  She made an effort to control the wobble in her voice. “I still can’t believe it happened. Jim was such a careful driver.”

  Something in his face changed and he glanced over at the bar. “Get you a beer?”