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Scarlett’s body stiffened beside him and he drew her closer.
“I’m calling the county sheriff’s department right now. They’ll probably be here the rest of the night. I don’t think Scarlett has anything to worry about.” Unger charged off toward the crime scene.
As the EMTs adjusted the straps on the body, Scarlett said, “Wait. C-can we see his face? I just want to make sure it’s not anyone I know, although if Cody didn’t recognize him I doubt I will.”
“Sure.” The EMT whipped back the sheet from the man’s face.
Jim clenched his jaw as sour bile rose from his gut. Scarlett and Unger might not know the murdered man, but Jim did.
And if the man hadn’t already been dead, he might’ve killed him himself.
Chapter Three
Scarlett swallowed as she studied the dead man’s face, half obscured by his bushy beard and mustache, some sort of tattoo creeping up his neck with an L and a C intertwined. She’d never been a portraitist, but if she had been she’d want this guy’s likeness on canvas. Even in death, he wore his life story on his face, etched in every line and wrinkle.
She blew out a breath. “I don’t know him. Jim?”
“Never saw him before in my life.”
The EMT tugged the sheet back over the man’s face and loaded him into the ambulance.
Unger returned with his deputies. “The county sheriff’s department should be out here shortly, Scarlett. They don’t need to disturb you tonight, but the lead detective will probably want to talk to both of you tomorrow. Going anywhere, Kennedy?”
“I’m staying at my...my place.”
Scarlett glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. The Kennedy cabin had been the closest residence to hers, but nobody had lived there since she’d bought the Butler place. Apparently, Jim Kennedy, the town enigma, had been off to war with the army rangers all these years.
When the EMT had lifted the covers on the dead man, Jim had moved away from her. She hadn’t minded his arm draped over her shoulders or the solid presence of his muscular frame, although she’d never been one to lean on a man. Her own father had died in a car accident along with her mother, and her uncle had been a black sheep, ostracized from the reservation.
She scooped her hair back from her face. “I’m going to call it a night. Tell those county deputies they can talk to me anytime they want, but mornings are best, before I get to work.”
Unger smacked the side of the ambulance as its engine started. “I’m going to back out and let these guys out of here, but I’m sticking around to wait for the county guys.”
“Okay if I leave, Unger?” Jim shoved his hands into his pockets where he must’ve still had his weapon stashed.
If the man had been shot instead of stabbed, would Jim have told Unger about his gun? If he had a gun, maybe he had a knife.
Scarlett closed her eyes and dragged in a deep breath. Nothing about Jim screamed cold-blooded killer, but she couldn’t shake the coincidence of his appearance followed by the discovery of a dead body on her property.
“You can leave. Again, just be available in case anyone wants to ask you any more questions.”
Scarlett pivoted on the gravel. “Hope you can figure out what happened to that poor man.”
Jim drew up beside her with his flashlight. “I’ll walk you back to your place, if that’s okay.”
“If you want, but I think I’ll be fine with half the Timberline Sheriff’s Department on my property and the county sheriffs showing up in a few.”
“I can take a look around and check your doors and windows—for when all those deputies leave.”
A little chill zapped the back of her neck, and she hunched her shoulders. “That’s a creepy thought.”
“Not my intention to scare you, but sometimes a little fear is a good thing.”
They returned to her cabin and Jim flicked the broken dead bolt. “You can start here by getting this replaced, and you might want a peephole in the door so you don’t have to look out that window.”
“Funny enough, I noticed those deficiencies myself when you banged on my door.”
“Why don’t you give me a tour?”
