Corralled. B.J. Daniels
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the table at him. There were worry lines between the brows of his handsome face.
“Or was it the running away part that appealed to you?” he asked.
“That could definitely be part of it. Haven’t you ever wanted to run away?”
“Sure.” His Montana blue-sky eyes bore into her. “Most people don’t have the luxury of actually doing it though.”
“Good thing we aren’t most people,” she said, giving him a flirtatious smile.
“Oh? You think we’re that much alike? So tell me what you’re like and I’ll tell you whether or not you’re right about me.”
“No big mystery. I like to dance, drive fast, have a good time and I’m always up for an adventure. How else could I have ended up living that little-girl fantasy of running away with a cowboy?”
“How else indeed,” Logan said, but he was smiling.
“HAS ANYONE LOOKED IN this house for the four approved guests who are unaccounted for?” the sheriff demanded.
Kevin was reaching for his phone to check with his security personnel when Buford caught a glint out of the corner of his eye. Turning toward Sanderson’s body, he saw something glittering on the lapel of the dead man’s robe that he hadn’t noticed before.
Stepping over to the body again, he crouched down next to Sanderson and inspected the lapel. Someone had attached a safety pin to the left-hand lapel of the dead man’s robe. As Buford looked closer, he found a tiny piece of yellow paper still attached to it.
The killer had left a note? Or was it possible that Sanderson had left a suicide note?
The thought took him by surprise. He’d been treating this like a homicide. But what if it had been a suicide, complete with note?
If so, then why would anyone take it? To protect Sanderson? To purposely make it appear to be a homicide?
A history buff, Buford thought of a famous death that perplexed historians still. Captain Meriwether Lewis of the famed Lewis and Clark Expedition through Montana had suffered from depression that was thought to be the cause of his apparent suicide. But there were still those who believed he’d been murdered.
Very perplexing, Buford thought as he moved to a small desk in the kitchen. On it was a yellow sticky note pad. The top sheet had been torn in half horizontally, leaving the glued piece and a ragged edge. The paper was the same color as the tiny scrap still caught on the safety pin.
A blue pen lay beside the pad. Unfortunately there was no slight indentation on the pad. Whoever had written the note had ripped the scrap of paper off first before writing the note.
“Did anyone remove something that had been pinned to the deceased’s robe?” he asked. Both Kevin, the two guards and Jett swore they hadn’t. From their surprise at the question, Buford suspected they were telling the truth.
But someone had taken the note.
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