Page 25 of Cowboy Peril

Staying low, she led him from the bathroom.

Footsteps sounded downstairs. The shooter had reentered the house.

Parker headed for a closet in one of the guestrooms and pushed against the back wall. A secret door swung open. She grabbed a flashlight from a shelf her father had built and turned it on. The batteries were low, but the flashlight still offered enough light to make their way.

The passageway narrowed into stairs that led to the first floor. Parker pressed her ear against the door at the end, then slowly eased the door open. Not seeing anyone, she dashed for her mother’s sitting room and into another secret passage. This one led to the basement.

“This is the coolest house,” Colt whispered.

“I always thought so.” The flashlight flickered out. No matter. She knew the secret way through the house with her eyes closed.

This time they stepped into the basement. Sheets covered the pool table and foosball table. After high school, few people had reason to visit the basement, but during Parker’s teen years, she’d held a lot of parties down there.

She stepped to the side while Colt moved to the window just above her head. He looked out, turning his head this way and that.

Feet encased in work boots shuffled overhead, freezing Parker and Colt in place. When the feet moved on, Parker slowly released the breath she’d held.

Sirens wailed, followed by the pounding of footsteps.

“Looks like he’s leaving,” she said, putting a hand to her racing heart.

“Let’s give it a few more minutes before we leave the safety of the basement.”

“Okay.” Her breath wheezed. Oh, no. Her purse was in Colt’s truck. She counted and took deep slow breaths, willing her breathing back to normal. After years of no asthma problems, why would her childhood ailment kick back in now? Answer: More than regular physical activity. Dust and hay in ready supply at the ranch. Plenty of dust in the attic. Not to mention danger. Lots of danger. She sat in a sheet-covered chair and did her best to expand her lungs.

Colt pulled her inhaler from his pocket. “I brought it just in case. Forgive me for snatching it out of your purse, but I saw it sitting on top, and the purse was open.”

She inhaled the medicine and leaned her head back. “Thank you…for…invading my…privacy.”

“Anytime.” He shot her a wink that almost stopped her heart, then turned back to the window. “Cops are here. I thinkit’s safe to go out. We’re going to stop at the drugstore on our way out of town. You need a new inhaler.”

“Yes, Boss.” She pushed to her feet, her breathing coming easier now. “We’ll buy stuff to take care of those cuts on your face, too. Might as well buy fresh supplies. The ones here are who knows how old.” She was rambling but couldn’t help it. As they went upstairs, adrenaline rushed through her veins like a tornado. Her hands shook, and her head pounded.

Thank God, Colt was with her.

~

Mark sat next to his mother who stared out the window as if he weren’t sitting next to her. Her Alzheimer’s had progressed rapidly until she spent more time inside her head than out. One more reason he hated the Wells family.

He’d needed that money to afford the best medical attention money could buy. Without it, she’d had to rely on state funding. Nowhere near good enough.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I did my best.” He patted her hand.

She didn’t respond; she barely blinked. Despite weekly Sunday visits, his only day not working on the ranch lately, he rarely spent time with her. She didn’t know him after all, but he visited enough for the staff to remark on how he was such a devoted son.

He relished the accolades.

“Those responsible will pay, Mama. Only one more, and that horrible family will no longer exist. It might not bring you back to me, but it’ll provide some consolation nevertheless.” He leaned over and planted a kiss on her cool cheek. “In case you slip away before next Sunday, goodbye, Mama.”

~

The detective listened as Colt talked, then showed him the newspaper article. “This is still an active investigation taking a second spot to the murder of Miss Wells’ friend. As of today, wehave no proof whether Mr. Wells embezzled from the firm or whether someone else did. I suggest the two of you let us handle things before you get yourselves killed.”

“I have every right to be in my parents’ home, Detective.” Parker crossed her arms. “I do have to go through their things at some point.”

“Yes, ma’am, but not with the intent of finding their alleged killer.” He returned his gaze to Colt. “I expect you to know better, being ex-military PD.”

“Special forces.”

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