Cordell looked up and from his expression, he’d been expecting this.
“I have to go back to Whitehorse and check out a few things myself.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No, you need to stay here and do some work. We both can’t be goofing off. When I come back—”
“Yeah, I want to talk to you about that.”
“Is there a problem?”
“No, it’s just that, well, you’ve met Raine,” Cordell said.
Cyrus smiled. He’d been pleased when his brother had introduced him to the woman he’d been seeing for the last three months. Raine Chandler, he’d been surprised to hear, was the woman he’d saved up in Montana.
“So I brought you two together.” Cyrus had never believed in divine intervention. But as eerie as this was, he felt as if it had all happened for a reason. And that reason, he feared, was so he could be at the hospital that night and make sure justice was done.
But that surprise was nothing compared to realizing his brother had fallen head-over-heels in love with the woman. After Cordell’s horrible marriage and divorce, no one had expected him ever to consider marriage again—especially his twin.
But when he’d met Raine, he’d seen that she was wearing a gorgeous diamond engagement ring and Cordell was always grinning when he was around her.
“Raine and I made a deal back in Montana,” Cordell was saying. He looked uncomfortable. “She said she’d marry me only when you could be my best man.”
Cyrus was surprised. “She was taking one hell of a chance I was going to come out of my coma.”
“Raine has a lot of faith. I think she knew how much I would need you at my side on my wedding day.”
Cyrus laughed. “True enough. Congrats, Cordell, and I’d love to be your best man. So when is the big day?”
“We haven’t set it yet. We were waiting to see … “
If Cyrus really was going to be all right. That was the problem with being twins: sometimes you knew exactly what the other one was thinking.
“I’m fine, really. This is just something I need to do. I’m not crazy, no screws loose from the head injury. If you had seen what I did, you’d be doing the same thing. It was that real, Cordell.”
His brother nodded. “So go to Montana, do what you have to do and—”
“Set a wedding date. I’ll be there for you. This thing in Montana won’t take that long, unless you’re thinking of getting married right away.”
“No, we were considering a New Year’s wedding. Did I mention that our cousin McCall is getting married at the ranch at Christmas?” Cordell asked.
“You aren’t seriously considering—”
“Raine and Grandmother hit it off.” Cordell shrugged. “Grandmother thinks we should move our investigative business to Montana. I know,” he said quickly, putting up a hand. “I told her you’d never go for that.”
Cyrus had to laugh. Cordell was the one who had wanted nothing to do with his grandmother. He’d tried to talk Cyrus out of even going to Montana in the first place. Now he was actually considering another wedding at the ranch after Christmas?
“Hey,” he said, “whatever you and Raine decide. Count me in.” He hugged his brother and headed for the door.
“Call me when you get there and keep in touch,” his brother called after him. “If you need me, I’ll be there in a heartbeat. Or if I don’t hear from you.”
Cyrus stopped at the door to look back at him and laughed. “Stop worrying about me. I’ll probably be back within the week. By the way, thanks for taking care of my pickup.”
“Sure.”
Cyrus got the feeling there was something his brother wasn’t telling him. “You didn’t let your girlfriend drive my pickup, did you?”
“The way Raine drives? Are you kidding?”
He started to step out into the hallway.
“Cyrus!”
Turning, he looked back at his brother and saw more than worry on Cordell’s face. “Be careful.”
Cyrus felt that bad feeling he’d awakened with rise to the surface again. If the murder had been nothing more than a bad dream, then why did his brother look scared for him?
Chapter Three
His first morning in Whitehorse, Montana, Cyrus headed straight for the new hospital. The squat, singlelevel building sat on the east end of the small western town. There was an empty field behind it, the Larb Hills in the distance.
For a moment, he stood outside, hoping the cool October day would sharpen his senses. He felt off balance, confused and a little afraid that the blow to his head had done more damage than anyone suspected—and all because of what he believed he’d seen that night in the old hospital.
The doctor had said he might have some memory lapses, either short-or long-term. He’d been warned that he might not feel like himself for a while.
“There are things you might never get back.”
Like my sanity?
When he’d reached town last night, he’d returned to the Whitehorse Hotel on the edge of town and taken the same room he had planned to stay in more than three months earlier.
He hadn’t slept well and when his brother had called and he’d told him where he was, Cordell threatened to come to Montana. Cyrus had talked him out of it, assuring him he wasn’t losing it.
Now, as Cyrus stepped into the new hospital’s reception area, he wasn’t so sure. Maybe he was wrong. Who saw a murder that never happened?
It wasn’t just that no one believed him. They all made it sound as if it would have been impossible for anything he said to have actually happened. All of them couldn’t be wrong, could they?
Of course, his first thought was conspiracy. But did he believe that even his cousin was in on it?
The hospital was smaller than most, but then Whitehorse wasn’t exactly booming. Like a lot of small Montana towns, its population was dropping each year as young people moved away for college and better-paying jobs.
“May I help you?” The receptionist was in her early twenties with straight blond hair and a recently applied sheen of lip gloss. He stared at her name tag, not registering her name as he suddenly had a flash of his so-called murder dream. The woman lying dead in the nursery hadn’t been wearing a name tag. So maybe he was right and she wasn’t a nurse. Or maybe she’d lost her name tag in the struggle.
“Sir?”
Cyrus stirred, blinking the receptionist back into focus. He removed his Stetson. “I need to speak with your hospital administrator.” He realized he should have made an appointment. Had he been afraid the person wouldn’t see him once he recognized the name and knew what this was about?
“Your name?”
“Cyrus Winchester.”
The receptionist picked up the phone. “Let me see … oh, here she is now.”
A woman in her sixties with short gray hair walked toward them. She was dressed in a suit and had an air of authority about her.
“This man needs to see you,” the receptionist said.
The hospital administrator gave him only a brief glance. “Why don’t you come back to my office.”
Cyrus followed her into a small, brightly lit room.