Page 34 of Cowboy Peril

The sheriff hadn’t found more than footprints and tire tracks when he’d gone after the shooter the other night. If the authorities couldn’t catch the man, what made Parker think she could? Oh, sure, she felt as if she’d come a long way from the spoiled, little rich girl, but she was still no crime fighter.

Parker lay in the bed in the main house and stared at the ceiling. She reached over to pet Tuxedo, sitting upright when her hand encountered nothing but mattress.

Oh, no. Colt had told her the cat had to stay in her room. According to Colt, the boss didn’t allow animals in the house.

She padded barefoot around the second floor of the house. “Here, kitty, kitty.” Where was that darn cat?

The soft murmurs of Mrs. White drifted up the stairs. Parker headed for the kitchen.

The cook knelt next to a bowl of milk the kitten had her head in, lapping as if she’d never been fed. “You are a sweetie.”

“Thank you for finding her before someone who has an aversion to cats did.” Parker smiled.

“Oh, she found me and started begging like you wouldn’t believe.” Mrs. White rose to her feet.

“I believe it, and she’s actually a he. A sweet little boy that always wants to eat.” Parker headed for coffee, relieved to see a fresh pot. “Have you seen Colt this morning?”

“He’s in the office.”

Parker paused, reaching for a cup. “Did he see Tuxedo?”

“Yep. That man can scowl. But I gave him a slice of apple pie, a cup of coffee, and told him to take his surly attitude somewhere else. I can invite anyone into my kitchen I want, and if he doesn’t like it, he can take it up with the boss when he returns.”

“Only you could get away with talking to him like that.” Parker laughed.

“Not just me.” She returned Parker’s smile. “You could get him to do almost anything. He might grumble, but he’d do it all the same.”

She liked to think so. Despite the steps they’d made repairing their relationship, they still had a long way to go. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Finished going through your father’s things?”

“No.”

“Then, no, I don’t need you. Marilyn and I can handle things. We’ve another group of kids showing up tomorrow. I’ll need you then. Focus on what’s important right now, and that’s finding out who killed your parents.”

Parker gave her an impulsive hug. “Thank you.” She finished fixing her coffee, scooped up Tuxedo, and headed home to do some more digging after a quick shower.

Her steps slowed as she approached her front door. Not seeing any notes or boxes, the tension left her shoulders, and she unlocked her front door, making sure to bolt it behind her once she stepped inside.

“Go keep watch, you little scamp.” She set Tuxedo on the floor and went to get ready for the day.

First thing after her shower, she sat at the table with a fresh cup of coffee beside her and finished the journal. No more secret messages between glued pages appeared, but the last pagedid speak a lot about her father’s suspicions regarding someone stealing from the company.

Another page told of cutting corners on building projects. A man had died as a result when a poorly constructed roof didn’t hold and caved in on the poor man.

Parker closed the journal. So her father had been accused of cutting corners. As a result, he would’ve started investigating in order to clear his name. The person responsible had killed him, and now he came after Parker. Why her? Again, she had nothing to do with her father’s business.

What did she have that someone would want? Money. The only thing she had was money, and lots of it. Could it be that simple? Did this man want the money he’d try to achieve by ill-gotten gains and, having failed, he wanted Parker to give it to him? Then why not ask?

She sighed and finished her coffee while staring out the window at the workers. One of the construction crew could very well be the man who killed her family. What would she do if she discovered who?

She liked to believe she’d do the right thing and alert the sheriff rather than foolishly confront the man. But, Parker didn’t always do the smartest thing. She was learning, though. This time, rushing ahead without thinking things through could get her and someone else killed.

Coffee cup empty, she moved to the floor and opened the last of her father’s boxes. A few files of receipts sat on top waiting for the next tax season. Newspapers lay underneath. Parker removed them and started flipping through, stopping only when an article referred to her father or Wells Construction.

Bingo. A full-page article complete with a clear black and white photograph that showed her father and his staff during the ribbon-cutting ceremony of an office complex. The very complex that later fell apart, killing a man.

Parker peered closer. She recognized one of the men in the photo. Her gaze darted to the window. The man now sat on the roof of the barn.

---