“I don’t think any crooks or bad guys came through here tonight, if that’s what you mean,” came the voice of the dishwasher who’d given her directions to the bathroom. “Just people from the dinner theater.”
“Is the show over?”
“Should have been over about fifteen minutes or so ago.”
“Did anyone come through this way recently? A woman in a blue dress, blond hair?”
Fawn bit the inside of her cheek. No, please don’t tell him.
“Hey, you kidding? Sure did,” came the reply. “Blue dress? Really pretty?”
“Sounds right.”
“She was in here just a few minutes ago. Looked a little spooked, if you ask me. What happened, Officer?”
“We just need to question her.” There was a sound of static, like one of those walkie-talkie things Fawn’s Uncle Ralph used to have. “We need to have a look around.”
“Okay by me, but I’m not the one you have to ask. My boss—”
“We’ll take care of that. If you don’t mind, you just ease out of the building for a few minutes. There’s been a double murder, and we’re investigating.”
“Murder! You’re not kidding me? Right here in Branson?”
Fawn froze. Oh, Bruce, no. She squeezed her eyes shut and moaned softly.
There was a thunk on the linen-room door, and then the knob turned slightly. “What’s in here?”
Fawn braced herself to make a dive for the floor.
“Towels and stuff.”
“Okay, we’ll want to check it, too. Why don’t you go ahead and get hold of your boss, and I’ll have a talk with him, get the master switch turned on down here. But meanwhile we need to get some backup in here.” The voices became somewhat fainter, but they didn’t go away completely. Fawn slid down beside a rack of towels and buried her face in her hands. She was trapped.
Oh, Bruce…he was really dead. Harv had killed him. And who else had he killed? The bellman?
And what was she going to do?
Karah Lee huddled against the passenger door of the ranger’s SUV, doing her best to control Monster’s movements within the circle of her arms as the ranger took the sharp curves at a sedate speed. “It wasn’t the bump on the head that made me sick. Really. Ouch!” She eased Monster’s front paws up and away from her shoulder, wincing as the sharp claws dug into her flesh in an effort to remain attached. “I was sick long before I saw those deer in the road.”
“Look, it’s never convenient to have to seek medical care in the middle of the night, but there are times—”
“I heard you, okay?” she snapped, then bit her lower lip. She knew the speech. She’d given it enough times, herself. And here she was behaving like one of her most obnoxious patients. Next time she would remember how irritable pain could make a person. “Trust me,” she said more gently. “I’ll be fine.”
“Oh, really?” His sarcasm was still in evidence. “You have a sixth sense about these things, do you?”
She frowned at him. What was his problem? So she was refusing care—it shouldn’t be a big deal to him. “I’m not trying to be a jerk,” she said, then grimaced when her loving pet attempted to tenderize her right leg. “You know what, Monster? Some people think cat tastes just as good as chicken. I’m tempted to see if they’re right.”
Ranger Taylor Jackson skidded a glance her way.
“Joke,” she said. “It’s a joke. See? I’m making jokes, I’m thinking clearly, I’m—”
Monster yowled, and the impact of the sound reverberated through the interior of the SUV. Karah Lee covered the cat’s face with her left hand. He nipped at her thumb, and she jerked away.
“Do you think he’s hurt?” Taylor asked.
“If you’re asking if he’s behaving abnormally, no.” She’d checked him over, as much as he would allow, and had found no damage. “I’d still like to find a veterinarian. You say there’s none in Hideaway?”
“There’s a kid at a boys’ ranch across the lake who could probably look at him. Everybody around here takes their pets to him. Besides him, the closest vet is Kimberling City.”
“A kid?”
“About seventeen, good kid.”
Monster yowled again, and again Karah Lee attempted to comfort him.
“You say he’s always like that?”
She nodded, then realized he probably couldn’t see the gesture in the dim glow from the console. “He misses his previous owner. We aren’t exactly soul mates.”
There was a soft snort of laughter, and Karah Lee glared at the ranger’s silhouette.
The amusement left his expression. “Sorry. You’re staying at the Lakeside?”
“That’s right. I’m renting a house in town, and it won’t be ready for a week and a half.”
“You’re staying alone?”
She gave him a sharp glance. “Except for Monster. Why?”
“I simply wondered if you’d be alone tonight, without anyone to check on you.”
“You offering?” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she wished she could tie a knot in her tongue. She hadn’t meant that the way it sounded. Not at all.
Even in the faint light from the dash she thought she could see him blush. He had the coloring for it, with faint freckling across the bridge of his nose, and hair the color of aged bronze. He had straight, fierce eyebrows—no, not exactly fierce, they just made him look earnest, like a younger version of Billy Graham.
She sighed. She had spent too much time in the company of a sarcastic hospital staff, and she’d grown accustomed to the cynical, occasionally coarse joking. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be fine, and if anything happens, I promise not to hold you personally responsible, okay?”
“That isn’t what I—”
“I know about head-sheet protocol, I know what to look for and I know what to do in case of emergency.”
There was a short silence. “That’s fine.” The reply was tight and clipped, and she realized she’d probably offended him. In fact, thinking about it, what she’d said had sounded offensive. Again. Disgusted with herself, she sighed and leaned back.
They rounded a curve, and there was a break in the heavy overgrowth of trees. Moonlight reflected from the glassy surface of a lovely lake below, and Karah Lee caught her breath. “I’d forgotten how beautiful it is down here.”
From the corner of her vision, she saw him glance at her. “You’ve been here before?”
“My family came here a lot when I was growing up. It was one of my favorite places in the world.”
There was a brief silence. Even the cat had settled into Karah Lee’s lap without destroying any more flesh or further taxing her eardrums.
“I think you’re going to find a few changes,” he said softly.
“The roads have changed, for sure. When I was a kid, this was a gravel road. I like the improvement.”
“It might have backfired on us.”
“What do you mean?”
He steered the vehicle along the downhill curve of the road toward town. “We’ve been overrun by tourists this year. Some company came in last fall and bought several