Page 11 of Cowboy Mountain Man

She turns toward me. “At least you’re honest.”

I slow for a curve. “Your family know where you are?”

“My sister does.”

“Send her the address of the inn.”

“I already did.”

“Good.”

“And your name,” she adds.

I look over.

Hope holds up her phone. “I sent her a picture of your truck, too. Just in case.”

For the first time all afternoon, I smile. “Good.”

“You don’t find that insulting?”

“No.”

“She says you look like you know where to hide a body.”

“She’s not wrong.”

Hope’s eyes round. Then she laughs—brief, surprised, and warm enough that I want to hear it again.

I turn onto the Bell driveway. The deputy’s SUV waits near the porch. I park beside it and get out.

Hope opens her door before I reach her side. She uses the step, lands on the gravel, and gives me a look that dares me to comment.

I don’t.

Ellis comes down the porch steps. “Mercer.”

“Ellis. This is Hope Rowan.”

He introduces himself, then asks her a few questions about the truck.

While she answers, I watch the barn. The upstairs window is shut now.

Hope follows my gaze. “It was open when I got here.”

Ellis nods.

“Found bedding up there. Food wrappers. Couple of empty water bottles. Looks like someone’s been camping out.”

“Wouldn’t they have been more comfortable in the house?” she asks.

“Maybe they preferred being able to see anyone coming.”

She glances toward the kitchen window.

I move half a step closer. “Any sign of forced entry?” I ask.

“Barn’s got a loose board around back. House, no. Back door lock’s worn out. Could probably get it open with a screwdriver.”