Confessing to the Cowboy. Carla Cassidy
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Adam quickly protested. “Melanie would kill me. We’re in the middle of planning a wedding and we’ve already decided that pets are out of the question for us.” He handed Cameron the leash as if he couldn’t get rid of it fast enough.
“Guess I’ll run her by my place and then head to the café. I need to talk to Mary. There’s got to be a reason this guy is killing her waitresses.”
“And if we can figure out the ‘why,’ maybe we can identify the ‘who,’” Adam replied.
“Exactly,” Cameron said. “For now I want you to find out the names of all of Dorothy’s friends and set up interviews. I’ll be back in the office later this evening to check on progress.” He leaned down and picked up Twinkie in his arms. The friendly little beast snuggled against him as if she were already home.
Minutes later Cameron was in his car and headed to his place. Home was a comfortable ranch house on five acres of land. He had a couple of horses, but no cattle. The horses were strictly for riding and not for business.
It was a nice place but also a lonely place for Cameron who at thirty-five had assumed by now it would be filled with a wife and a couple of kids.
Unfortunately the minute he’d seen Mary Mathis in the café, he’d also seen her in his mind as the woman who belonged in his home. Equally as unfortunate, Mary had made it clear that she didn’t belong in his home, on a date or in any other space with him beyond friendship.
By now Mary probably would have heard that she’d lost another waitress. The grapevine in Grady Gulch was strong and healthy and it had been hours since Dorothy’s body had been discovered.
A frustrating part about these crimes was that Cameron didn’t know how to anticipate who might be next. He didn’t know what to do to keep other women safe.
After the last murder he’d held a press conference and warned women who lived alone to make sure they kept their doors and windows closed and locked, to be aware of their surroundings and if they felt threatened at all to call 911.
He had a feeling that nobody in town had taken his warnings seriously. Candy Bailey had been a young woman and initially her boyfriend, Kevin Naperson, had looked good for the murder. Cameron still had his eye on the young man, but couldn’t tie him to Shirley Cook’s murder.
If Cameron was perfectly honest with himself he’d admit that he had no viable suspects for any of the murders. He had a couple persons of interest, but nobody who popped to the top of the pathetic list.
Several tall trees stood sentry on either side of his house and a nice-sized pond glittered in the not-so-far distance. The barn was located behind the house and the entire back acreage was fenced to keep the three horses where they belonged.
Once he was in the house it didn’t take him long to set up space for Twinkie in the laundry room. The dog not only had her own little wardrobe, but also food and water bowls and a tiny four-poster bed that appeared to have never been slept in.
With the dog settled, Cameron left the house once again and headed toward the Cowboy Café and a talk with Mary. As always when he drove toward the café, myriad emotions filled his head.
The café was the place in town to go for friendly conversation and a warm and inviting atmosphere. The food was terrific and the prices were appealing. Mary had managed to turn a restaurant into a home away from home for many of the people in the small town.
She’d also managed to twist his heart in a million ways without doing a thing but talking to him and looking at him with her bright blue eyes. But he couldn’t go there now. At this moment he couldn’t think about Mary, except in the capacity as a piece of a puzzle to solve a series of crimes. This visit to the café was all business.
The first thing he did as he entered the large, popular eating establishment was add his hat onto one of the hooks along the entranceway. The second thing he did was gaze toward the counter, where the pretty blonde usually stood.
She wasn’t there. A quick glance around told him she was no place in the front of the café. In her place, behind the counter, Rusty Albright stood surveying the surroundings like a bouncer ready to pounce.
Rusty was a big man with ice-blue eyes and a smashed, crooked nose that told a story Cameron had never heard. He was Mary’s cook and right-hand man when it came to running the place.
“Rusty,” he said with a nod of his head. “Is Mary around?”
Rusty shook his head. “She’s been gone since this morning. Matt’s school had a take-a-parent-to-school day and so she’s been with him all day.” He shook his head. “Had to eat one of those nasty school lunches and everything.”
Cameron glanced at his wristwatch. It was almost four. School let out at three forty-five so if they came right back, they should be here anytime.
“I heard we lost Dorothy.” Rusty frowned. “Any leads?” He asked the question without enthusiasm, as if knowing what Cameron would reply.
“Not yet. It’s early in the investigation. Do you know if Mary has heard about Dorothy?”
“Doubtful, but you can ask her yourself.” He nodded toward the door. “She and Matt just walked in.”
Cameron turned around to see Mary and her ten-year-old son Matt entering the café. The beautiful smile that curved her lips, the sparkle that lit her eyes let him know that she hadn’t heard the latest news and he hated the fact that he would be the one to snatch away her smile, to darken her eyes with pain.
“Hey, Sheriff Evans,” Matt greeted with a friendly grin.
“Hey, yourself,” Cameron replied affectionately. He’d told Matt a dozen times that he could call him Cameron, but Mary had insisted her son use Cameron’s official title. “I just heard that your mom spent the day at school with you. That must have been weird.”
Mary laughed, the sound twisting softness around Cameron’s heart. “I think embarrassing would be first on the page if we were listing adjectives.”
“Nah, you didn’t embarrass me,” Matt replied. “At least you didn’t call me honey pie like Billy Morton’s mom did.” Matt stifled a snicker.
“True, although I did consider calling you honey pooh bear a couple of times.”
Matt looked horrified at the very thought, and Mary laughed.
“You wouldn’t do that to me,” Matt said.
“Probably not,” Mary agreed.
At that moment Jimmy Rosario flew through the front door. “Mom, Jimmy’s here,” Matt said, stating the obvious. “We’re going to play some catch in the back, okay?”
“You have one hour and then it’s dinner and homework time,” Mary replied. “And stay away from the cabins.” Her intense love for her son shone from her eyes as she watched him and his best friend disappear out the door.
She turned back to Cameron and must have seen something in his features that stole some of the light from her eyes. “What are you doing here at this time of the day?”
Normally Cameron came by at the end of the night, just before the restaurant closed to have a cup of coffee and share some friendly talk with her. Aware that the restaurant was filling quickly for the dinner rush, he was reluctant to share his information with her here in the middle of the gathering crowd.
“Can we go someplace private to talk?”
She gazed up at him for a long moment, biting her full lower lip in a gesture of anxiety. With a quick bob of her head she gestured for him to follow her through the kitchen and to the doorway that led to her and Matt’s living quarters behind kitchen.
He walked into a large living room that not only had a sofa, chairs and a television, but also had a small table and chairs in one corner. In all the years he’d known her, he’d never been in these rooms in the back of the café. As far as he