Page 27 of Killer on the Homestead (Bent County Protectors #2)

Duncan rolled over to find a naked, sleeping woman in his bed, and figured he could pretend there weren’t murderers wandering around for about five minutes to enjoy Rosalie Young sleeping in his bed.

He thought she’d try to sneak out sometime in the night, or early in the morning, like she had the night before. But exhaustion must have caught up with her, because her eyes were closed, her breathing deep and even.

So Duncan slid out of bed, narrowly biting back a hiss at the throbbing pain in his arm.

He moved as quietly as he could manage into the kitchen, got the coffee going, then grabbed a banana his mother had no doubt stocked yesterday.

He scarfed it down with the express purpose of taking a few ibuprofen with something in his stomach.

He decided to consider it progress that the over-the-counter stuff was helping to take the edge off.

Owen using those pills—or someone using those pills against Owen—really made Duncan reluctant to replace them.

When Rosalie came out of his bedroom, her hair was a mess and she looked bleary-eyed and still half-asleep. She was wearing one of his T-shirts, which nearly went down to her knees.

His heart did one painful roll in his chest, and something inside of him seemed to say “this is it. Right here.”

But he hedged on admitting to himself what that it was. “Morning, sunshine,” he greeted instead.

She just grunted, shuffled over to the coffee maker, saw it hadn’t brewed a full cup, then grunted again.

It was amusing to watch. She was usually so put together, so… vibrant and in control of herself. She made it look like she was all instinct and wild, but there was a careful note to Rosalie hidden underneath all that bluster.

He liked her bluster. He liked the hint of something softer underneath. He liked her, plain and simple. No doubt if he didn’t, it would have been easy enough to let her leave last night.

He wrapped his good arm around her from behind to pull her closer. She stiffened a little, but then she relaxed. It was starting to irritate him. The push and pull. It’d be one thing if she had no interest. If she flat-out rejected him, but she hadn’t.

“Look, Duncan…”

Unless she was about to.

“You should probably know, I’m not much of a good bet,” she said firmly. Like she’d really been thinking them over and had come to this very clear conclusion.

Except it made no sense.

He couldn’t see her expression since he was standing behind her. He could only look down at the top of her head. There were a lot of complexities about Rosalie. No doubt. Hidden things under her brazen surface.

But she was not a woman who suffered from a lack of confidence. So he tried to unearth what she really meant by that, but couldn’t. Because it just didn’t add up. “You’re not? Or I’m not?”

She didn’t push away from him, and he’d expected her to. It kept his frustration with her in check, that she’d lean against him and have this conversation.

She didn’t answer, and he wasn’t in the mood to fight, so he figured they could set this aside for now. Get back to murder. Tonight, they could wade through all this.

So he kissed her cheek. “You seem like a pretty good bet from where I’m standing.

I’m going to walk up to the main house. See if Dad can come up with a list of anyone who definitely couldn’t have been at the bunkhouse between the detectives and us yesterday morning.

Shouldn’t take too long. You take your time waking up.

I’ll be back. It’ll probably be another hour or two before we can get into the bunks undetected. ”

He felt her gaze as he released her and walked for the front door. He didn’t look back, though he wanted to.

“Duncan?”

Slowly, he turned to face her. Standing in his kitchen, in his shirt, still looking half-asleep and gorgeous.

“Maybe it’s not me. Maybe it’s the whole…relationship thing. It’s a lot of trust. I’m not sure I’ve got that in me.”

He figured it was fair that trust had to be earned, and they had a ways to go on that front. But he was a patient man. A goal-oriented kind of guy. He could prove it, earn it. He would. Not with words. But with the same kind of stubborn tenacity that had led him to success in his career.

“So find it in you, Rosalie. I can wait,” he replied, then went ahead and left rather than allow her to keep talking herself out of what they’d already started.

Because they were both people who saw through what they started. She’d come to that conclusion too.

He was almost sure of it.

He walked up to his parents’ house and let himself in after a brief tap on the door. They were both in the kitchen eating breakfast. They exchanged a look he didn’t quite understand, then smiled at him.

“Morning,” Mom offered. “What brings you up?”

“Some questions, unfortunately. Last night Rosalie and I had a bit of a break in the case, I guess you’d say. I need to know who on the ranch might have been unaccounted for between the time the ambulance took Owen away, and the time Rosalie and I looked through the bunkhouse yesterday.”

Dad scratched a hand through his hair. “Well. Your mother and Terry were at the hospital. Everyone else would have been doing their assigned job.”

“Is there a way to verify they were doing it? Especially if Terry wasn’t here?”

Dad seemed to consider this. “Everyone had jobs to do since it’s busy season,” Dad said.

“Terry and I sit down and discuss progress every other day during the busy season—and that’s where he’d mention if someone was slacking off or something didn’t get done.

We didn’t last night with the hospital hubbub.

I can try to pin him down this morning. Get a rundown of yesterday. ”

“That’d be good.” Would it give them answers? Before he could say anything else to Dad, his phone chimed. Duncan pulled it out of his pocket and read the text from Rosalie.

Owen’s awake. Headed to the hospital to talk to him. Text after.

The phone on the wall rang, and Mom got up to answer. Duncan could tell by her reactions that she was getting the same information that Rosalie had just texted him.

She hung up then smiled over at him. “Owen’s awake, and Sharon thinks she can get me in to see him today. So I’m going to head up to the hospital. I know Terry is worried sick about that boy. I’m going to call down and see if he wants to ride together this time.”

Duncan nodded but before his mother could lift the receiver again, the words caught up in his head. “This time? You two didn’t ride together yesterday?” he demanded.

“No, Terry wanted to make sure everything was settled before he left. He couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes behind me though. Waited all day with me too. But they wouldn’t let us see Owen. Hopefully today.”

“Yeah, hopefully.” Duncan kept the smile in place and rejected the awful thought that wanted to take root. Sure, it gave Terry time to plant the map, but why would he? There was no reason. Not that anyone else had a reason. But the point was, anyone could have put that map there.

Anyone, including Terry .

Mom made the call, but Terry didn’t answer. “Must already be out and about. I’ll text his cell. You probably have things to handle this morning, Duncan,” she said to him. She moved for the counter. “Here. Take some breakfast back with you.” Mom handed him a big grocery bag full of food.

He frowned down at the amount. “Mom, this is enough for…”

“Two people?” Mom replied brightly. “I suppose it is. Would you like to discuss that?”

Since he absolutely would not , he took it without any other discussion, or mentioning that Rosalie was already leaving, and went back to his cabin.

Once Dad pinned down Terry, got the information on who else might have not done their chores yesterday morning, he’d have a list. A list of suspects. He’d present Rosalie or the detectives with it. It was progress. Steps, like Rosalie said.

And he’d include Terry on that list, even though he didn’t want to.

They had to look at every angle, Rosalie had taught him that. So he’d follow every avenue, even when he didn’t want to.

Rosalie pulled into the hospital parking lot. She’d made a quick stop at home for a clean change of clothes and was glad not to run into Audra and have to explain everything. Then she drove, faster than she should have, out to the hospital.

Maybe Owen really didn’t know anything, but surely he’d remember if someone shoved those pills down his throat. And that was a clearer answer than whatever they might find on some cameras set up inside the bunkhouse.

Ideally, though, she’d have time for both. If she hurried.

She screeched into a parking spot and hopped out, plan already in her head. A little fast talking at the nurses’ station, but she’d slip into Owen’s room without permission if she needed to, a few questions, then…something.

Something .

It was a lot better than thinking about Duncan’s parting shot this morning. When she got inside, there was a flurry of activity at the nurses’ station. A few discreet questions and she got the gist.

Owen had crashed again. There was a lot of confusion because no one knew why. He’d been in good shape one minute, flatlining the next.

Rosalie wanted to stay and find out what happened, but the hospital hustle reminded her far too much of her father’s unexpected death. She’d rather act than sit in that .

So she went back to her truck, refused to think about poor Owen crying over his dead friend, and considered her options. No answers from Owen, so she’d have to go back to the ranch and plant her cameras.

Her phone rang as she slid back into her driver’s seat. It was Duncan. She thought about ignoring it. About finding some boundaries. When she was at work, she wasn’t going to communicate with him.

But her work right now was him and his family, and she should probably tell him about Owen. So she answered on speakerphone, so she could drive back to the office while they talked.

“Hey,” she answered. “Bad news.”