Page 203 of The Billion Heirs Boxed Set

I believe that, but not the way I love you. You love what I represent for you and your family. But you don’t want me for me.

I wept as I removed the diamond solitaire from my left ring finger and placed it in the palm of his hand.

It was fruitless to argue further. He was right, and we both knew it.

I drive into Bayfield proper and stop at the local police station. They’ve allowed my partner, Roy Jarvis, and me to set up shop in an empty corner. The sheriff, Trevor Bryant, was very welcoming. Detective Mark Peterson? Not so much.

“Hey, partner,” Jarvis says when I walk toward our small alcove. His sandy blond hair is covered by a black felt cowboy hat.

“Hey yourself. Trying to look the part?”

He grins. “When in Rome…” He makes some notes on his phone.

“Anyone tell you it’s not cool to wear a hat inside? Especially in a lady’s presence?”

He grins and removes the hat. Glances up. “Now look at me. I have hat head.”

“Your own fault, city slicker. You can’t pull that look off.” I glance around. “They seem to be leaving you alone.”

“You think? Other than Sheriff Bryant, no one’s deigned to speak to me.”

“The more things change… Locals always hate us.” I take a seat across from Jarvis at our small table.

Documents are scattered every which way, and his laptop and tablet are both set up.

“You see him?” Jarvis asks.

My body warms. Damn it. “I did.”

“And…?”

“And what?”

I haven’t told Jarvis about my past with Chance Bridger. I don’t want to get kicked off the case for a conflict of interest. It’s too late. I should have told McGuinness when I got the assignment, but I didn’t. If I mention it now, I’ll look like an idiot.

It was his decision to put me on this assignment. He knows my past, knows I grew up here. He thinks it gives me an edge. A local, even though I haven’t been one for over a decade. Still, I know the town. Know the people, or what I remember of them.

He knows I grew up in Bayfield, but not that I was a prime suspect’s high school girlfriend. And more.

I’m a good agent and I’m not messing that up because of something that happened long ago. I can push my emotions to the side and do my job. And if Chance Bridger is a killer? Best I find out now.

Man, if anyone had told me back in high school that Chance Bridger had the capacity to kill a man, I’d have bet everything I owned—which at the time consisted of a stuffed bunny, a closet full of secondhand clothes, and a beat up old Chevelle—that they were wrong.

After I got that Dear Jane letter?

I’d have bet he could.

His words went beyond mean, beyond nasty. They were downright malignant.

And it was the day after…

The day after—

“Marsh?”

I jerk toward Jarvis’s voice. Concern mars his brown eyes.

“You okay?”