Hotshot P.I. by B.J. Daniels

Author:B.J. Daniels
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 1997-08-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Clancy led them into the living room. Tadd took a seat on the western-style couch her family had bought when she was a child. It had horses embossed in the thick leather and wide wooden arms. She stood, too nervous to sit, remembering the night of the resort fire when she’d come down the stairs to find her parents sitting on that same couch, arguing about Warren Hawkins and the missing money.

Clancy had that same sick feeling now as she looked at Tadd. He sat on the edge of the couch, at odds with the warm, inviting character of the room with its large rock fireplace that Jake now leaned against, the rich golden pine floors, the bright-colored rugs.

Tadd pulled a sheet of paper from his shirt pocket. “The sheriff needs to know if this is the man you knew as Dex Westfall,” Tadd said, unfolding the flier.

Clancy found herself unable to move. Instead, Jake crossed the room, took the paper from Tadd’s hand and brought it over to her.

She could feel his gaze on her as well as Tadd’s. She took the flier in her hands, a zillion thoughts whipping through her mind. The last thing she wanted to do was look at the photograph she knew she’d find reprinted on the sheet of paper. What if it wasn’t the man she’d dated? What if it was?

She braced herself, her gaze flicking to Jake, his look sympathetic, supportive. She looked at the face in the photo. Her heart leaped into her throat.

“Is that the man you knew as Dex Westfall? Tadd asked again.

She nodded, looking away from the dead man’s face to stare into the darkness of the empty firebox.

Jake took the flier from her. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, avoiding his gaze. She wasn’t all right and wondered if she’d ever be all right again. The man she’d known as Dex Westfall was dead. So who had been snooping around her lodge last night? Who had she seen who looked like Dex? Who’d run out of the lodge? Who had pulled her into the lake and tried to drown her?

“Have you got an ID on the body yet?” Jake asked Tadd as he handed back the flier.

Out of the corner of her eye, Clancy watched Tadd carefully fold the sheet of paper and put it into his shirt pocket. He’s stalling, she thought, and faced him, realizing he’d brought news. Bad news.

“The sheriff got a positive ID from the family this morning,” Tadd said. “What Dex told you, Clancy, about being raised in eastern Montana on a farm turned out to be true.”

The air in the living room crackled. “Who was he?” she asked, her voice no more than a whisper.

Tadd’s gaze shifted to Jake. “His real name was Dexter Strickland.”

“Strickland?” Jake asked.

“Strickland?” Clancy repeated, the name not registering.

It was Tadd who answered. “Dex Strickland was Lola’s son.”

Lola. A chill stole across her skin. “Lola Strickland, the resort secretary?” The woman Jake’s father had gone to prison for murdering.

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