“I’ll do my very best not to,” Bree said truthfully, but she knew she would follow up on any promising lead they turned up.

  “How many slips do you have here?” Clint asked.

  “Five hundred, and most of them are filled.”

  Clint let out a low whistle then peered at Bree. “We should get started then.”

  Bree bid Dennis goodbye, and then she and Clint stepped off.

  “Do you really think we’ll find the killer’s boat here?” she asked.

  “I think if we do, odds are good that the damage from the paint rubbing off has been repaired by now so we won’t easily be able to prove it hit Jason’s boat. At least if I was the killer, I’d have fixed it before anyone started asking questions.”

  “So is it even worth our time to look?”

  He nodded. “Once we locate potential boats, we can follow up on registration numbers and that will help us track down the owners and maybe even repairs.”

  “But we don’t have access to that kind of information.”

  “I have my sources,” he said, and she knew without a doubt, if the information was available, Clint would find a way to get it.

  FOUR

  Late in the afternoon, when Bree and Clint took a refreshment break, Bree sipped her iced tea on the deck outside the marina restaurant. The restaurant floated on the water and soft waves bumped the platform in soothing, rhythmic movements, but Bree couldn’t relax. Not after finding a trio of poisonous snakes on the boat that morning.

  They’d notified Detective Newlin, and by the time they’d finished speaking with Dennis, Newlin had sent out a forensic team who processed the deck and hatch for leads. Newlin had also made a quick appearance but left without saying anything to aid their search. Their only recourse had been the footwork Clint had suggested, walking around the slips and identifying large boats painted blue. They’d located three of them that met their criteria of size and color, but only one of them held any damage that could have been from ramming Jason’s boat. After a brief break, they were going to ask marina staff for the owners’ names. Bree was all for the questioning, but she felt uneasy at being out in the open when a killer might be after her.

  She peered at Clint. “You don’t think the killer will try to hurt me in broad daylight with so many witnesses around, do you?”

  “I don’t think anyone will attack you head-on, but after the snakes, I won’t let my guard down.” Clint met her gaze and held it. “You’re too important to me to let anything happen to you.”

  She didn’t know how to respond to the open admission of his feelings when he rarely expressed them, so she didn’t. “We should move on to our questioning so I can get back to the ranch and take over Ella’s care.”

  He stood. “You seem to be handling your sudden parenthood pretty well.”

  “Only because Mom is helping me.”

  “It looks to me like you’re a natural and should have that house full of kids you always dreamed of.” He gestured for her to go ahead of him.

  “Even if I could handle more than one child—which at the moment I can’t—I wouldn’t choose to have more children without being married.”

  “Any prospects?” he asked so quietly she looked at him to be sure he’d spoken. “A guy, I mean.”

  She shook her head. “How about you? Is there a woman in your life?”

  He shook his head but didn’t expound. She irrationally hoped that meant he hadn’t gotten over her as she hadn’t gotten over him, but she wasn’t going to ask.

  She pointed at a worker ahead. “There’s someone we can talk to.”

  She dug out her phone so she could display the photos she’d taken of the boats they’d located.

  “Excuse me.” She held out her phone. “Could you tell me who owns these boats?”

  The guy let her display each picture for him, but then looked up, his eyes narrowed. “Sorry. The manager would fire me if I gave out any information, and I need my job.”

  As much as Bree wanted to push, she didn’t want the man to lose his job so she thanked him and moved down the dock until they reached another worker who was washing a boat.

  She followed the same procedure and got the same response.

  As they moved on, she sighed.

  “Hey,” Clint said. “There’s going to be someone here who knows something and is willing to share. It’s just a matter of odds.”

  Their next worker was a young woman, and Bree quickly explained their mission.

  The woman eyed Bree. “You’re that lady who’s been asking around about Jason, right?”

  Bree nodded.

  “I’m sorry about your friends. They were good people.” She frowned. “I can’t tell you anything about the boats or I could lose my job, but I did see Jason arguing with one of owners the week he died.”

  “Can you tell us who it was?”

  She shook her head. “I probably shouldn’t have even said as much as I did.”

  “So why did you?” Clint asked.

  She peered up at Clint. “’Cause I liked Laura and Jason.”

  “If you liked them so much, why not give us some names?”

  She cupped her hand over her eyes and nodded down the docks. “Sorry, but Mr. Green is staring at us, and I have to get back to work.” She turned away.

  “Looks like I was wrong,” Clint said to Bree. “We’re not going to get any information with Green watching like a hawk. We’re better off heading back to the ranch where I can research these registration numbers.”

  Bree felt like they were giving up, but she needed to give her mother a break, and they could always return to the marina tomorrow.

  Back at the ranch, Clint parked in front of the house. An older man wearing threadbare jeans, dusty boots and a stained white cowboy hat stormed across the yard.

  “That’s Pete,” Clint said. “He’s the ranch hand I mentioned this morning.”

  “He looks mad.”

  “That’s just Pete. He’s a grumbling old guy, but he has a good heart if you can stick around long enough to see it.” Clint chuckled. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you.”

  “With his look, I’m not sure I want to meet him.”

  “You’ll charm him like you do everyone.”

  She stepped down from the truck and waited with Clint for Pete to arrive.

  “Someone cut a fence on the east side of the property.” The words flew from Pete’s mouth as soon as he was in speaking range. He eyed her as if he thought she was guilty of the crime.

  “I certainly didn’t do it,” she said.

  “Pete, this is my friend, Bree,” Clint said. “She’s not the kind of person who goes around cutting holes in fences.”

  Pete ran his gaze from her boots to her head and back down again. “City slicker pretending to be a rancher.”

  Bree forced a smile to her lips. “I am at that.”

  His mouth dropped open.

  “I’m pretty good on a horse if that helps you to accept that I’m staying here.”

  “Some.” As if he’d dismissed her already, he changed his focus to Clint. “I mended the fence and didn’t see any other damage.”

  He spun and marched off as fast as he arrived.

  “I’m going to call him Tornado Pete,” Bree said.

  “A fitting name.” But Clint’s smile at her comment soon morphed into a frown.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t like that the fence was cut when you’re running from a killer.”

  “It’s likely just a coincidence, right?”

  He eyed her. “I don’t believe in coincidences, Bree, and I caution you not to as well.”

  * * *

  Dinner over, Clint strolled beside Bree as she carried Ella on a short walk. The baby’s gaze roved over the area, her big eyes opening wider. Clint once had the same kind of enthusiasm for the ranch. Before his parents died. Then without his parents’ love, the place had felt like a prison.

  A thought he wasn’t going to waste a beautiful evening on. He gazed over his property and tried to see it from Ella or Bree’s eyes. Ahead sat the combo barn and stable, the new metal roof glowing in the fading sun, the worn wood walls attesting to the age of the structure. Next to it sat a large paddock where his childhood horse, Frosty, grazed. Trident, his black stallion that he’d bought a few years ago and named after the SEAL’s insignia, lifted his magnificent head, but remained cautious.

  “Do you think Ella would like to see the horses?” Clint asked.

  “Maybe,” Bree said. “At least Frosty. I’m not sure Trident would put up with a fussy baby.”

  “Not to worry. Trident is so antisocial he won’t even come up to the fence to say hello.”

  Clint stepped ahead to whistle. Frosty came running to the fence and issued a long neigh in greeting. Or perhaps he was chastising Clint for being away for so long. A tan-gray Kentucky Mountain Saddle Horse, Frosty was usually gentle and willing.

  “Hey, fella.” Clint rubbed Frosty’s nose as the old guy whinnied his joy. “I missed you, too.”

  Bree moved slowly toward them. Ella’s eyes grew even bigger, and when Frosty shook his head and snorted, she laughed.

  “I think it’s safe to come closer,” Clint said.

  Bree eased forward until Ella could touch Frosty’s head. When he moved, her laughter rang through the air, the sound joyous and perfect.

  Clint’s heart melted on the spot. How wonderful it would be to have children and teach them to ride. To bring pure joy back to the ranch that had been bitter to him for so many years as a child. To bring joy to his own life. Sure, he had a good life. Liked what he did. Had a real sense of purpose. But joy? Not so much.

  A horse came galloping up the driveway, and Clint moved his hand to his gun. He stepped between the rider and Bree. “Stay behind me.”

  When Clint could identify the horse and rider, he blew out a breath. “It’s Shawn. The deputy I told you about.”

  Clint stepped to the side so Bree could see Shawn, but Clint didn’t relax. He’d let the sweet moment with Bree and Ella distract him, and he’d let down his guard. He couldn’t let that happen again.

  Shawn halted his horse and slid down from the saddle to tie the reins to the fence. Clint was glad to see his longtime friend. They’d hung out since middle school and rode the rodeo circuit together in high school summers.

  Shawn stepped over to them and clapped Clint on the back. “Good to see you, man.”

  “You too, bro.” Clint introduced Bree and Ella.

  Shawn lifted his hat, his full head of orangey red hair springing free, and bowed. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

  “Bree. Please.” She smiled at Shawn.

  He returned it wholeheartedly then slapped his hat back on his head. Single and wanting to settle down, Shawn would be the perfect man for Bree. He was a steady guy, hard worker, even tempered and kind. He was also far more like Bree in personality than Clint was.

  So why was Clint already trying to come up with a way to keep them apart?

  “I’m sorry to hear about your friends,” Shawn said. “And sorry the detective hasn’t been of more help. I can understand how a detective’s heavy caseload means prioritizing where he focuses his attention, and all of your situations have been circumstantial until today.”

  “Nothing circumstantial about three Texas coral snakes,” Clint said. “When Bree called Detective Newlin, he couldn’t blow this one off.”

  “So he’s going to investigate?”

  Clint nodded. “He even sent out a forensic team, but I’m still not confident he’ll make this a priority so we’ll keep digging and want your help.”

  “You got it, man. I’m glad to use my days off to help, but remember my help is unofficial. Even if I was on duty, everything that’s happened so far has been outside of my jurisdiction.”

  “I appreciate your willingness to help us,” Bree said.

  “No problem, but you should know, I’m not a detective.”

  “Still, you’re light-years ahead of us on crime investigation techniques.”

  “You hear that, man?” Shawn shouldered Clint. “She already recognizes my amazing talent and skills.”

  Bree laughed, but Clint could only manage a strained smile. “Let’s go back to the house and work on a game plan for tomorrow.”

  They set off and as Bree shifted Ella, Shawn said, “If she’s getting heavy, I can carry her for you.”

  Bree smiled up at Shawn. “That would be wonderful.”

  Clint stifled a grumble. Why hadn’t he offered to do the same thing? Simple. He wouldn’t even know how to hold Ella, where Shawn was the oldest of six kids, and he’d toted babies around for years.

  Shawn settled Ella in his arms, and she immediately grabbed onto his hat.

  “Whoa, little filly,” he said good-naturedly. “A man and his hat are like a man and his horse. You just don’t come between them.”

  Bree laughed, and Clint’s heart warmed at the sound at the same time as jealousy settled into his stomach.

  Get a grip, man.

  “About the gouge on the boat,” Clint said to draw Shawn’s attention. “Now that I’ve seen it, I think you could get a big enough paint sample to have it analyzed like you do with cars.”

  “Right,” Shawn said. “But you should know that boats aren’t as simple as cars. People don’t often repaint their cars, leaving the factory color for as long as the car’s in use. It’s not like that with boats. Since they’re in water and need to be repainted on a regular basis we don’t have a database of colors. But once we compile a list of suspects, the gouge paint can be matched against a suspect’s boat for confirmation, so I’ll take a sample of the paint in the morning.”

  “I have some boat registration numbers for you to run, too,” Clint said.

  “Now that I can do. Should have the owners’ names for you when we meet tomorrow.”

  “Finally a lead.” Bree smiled again.

  Clint nodded his appreciation, but he wasn’t going to get too excited. Who knew how many leads they’d have to check out before they found the culprit? And in the meantime, there was still a killer out there who could attack again at any moment.

  FIVE

  The bright morning sun glinted off the boat as Bree watched Clint and Shawn chatting a few feet away. They both had a commanding presence but were nothing alike in appearance except in their height. Shawn was slender, had a ready smile and flaming red hair. Clint was packed with muscle, his full mouth often in a frown, and his brown hair was only remarkable when the sun caught the copper highlights as it was doing now.

  Shawn pulled a folded stack of papers from his back pocket and handed the top sheet to Clint. “The boat owners. If anyone asks, you didn’t get the names from me.”

  Clint glanced at the paper then held it out to Bree. “Recognize anyone?”

  She read the names Isaac Ellison, Kier Lee and Vern Porter, each listed with local addresses.

  “Never heard of them,” she said.

  “With today’s social media and the internet,” Shawn said, “you shouldn’t have any trouble finding additional information on them.”

  Clint pocketed the list. “We can research them after we finish the boat search.”

  Shawn handed the other pages to Clint. “Before we get started, here’s the police report from the drive-by shooting. You can read it later, but for now you should know there are three noteworthy items. First, a witness saw a man in a white Toyota Corolla without license plates shooting at the house. Second, the shooter used a rifle, which we already suspected.”

  “And the third point?” Clint asked.

  “Slugs recovered at the scene are .338 Lapua Magnums.”

  “Interesting.” Clint faced Bree. “This caliber was developed for the military—specifically the Marines—for long-range sniper rifles.”

  “So it’s only used by the military?” she asked.

  “Not quite. It’s not as common as other calibers but it’s gaining in popularity with hunters and civilian long-range shooting enthusiasts. Still, this could help narrow down the suspect list.”

  “Oh, good.” Bree quickly scanned the report then looked up at Clint. “What about the witness? Should we follow up with him to see if he’s remembered anything else about that night?”

  “I’ll be glad to do that for you,” Shawn offered. “But let’s get to the search as it’ll take time to process any evidence we find.”

  “Where do you want to start?” Bree asked.

  “Let me see the gouge first.”

  Bree led him to the damaged spot. Shawn leaned over the edge of the boat to examine it. Then he grabbed his bag and took out a knife and paper envelope to scrape paint flakes into the envelope and seal it. “Let’s look at the engine hatch next.”

  Clint stepped over to the hatch and met Bree’s gaze. “You should stand back just in case.”

  “You don’t think—”

  “No. I don’t think we’ll find anything dangerous this time, but caution is the name of the game.”

  “You SEALs are such drama queens.” Shawn laughed and stepped to the far end of the hatch.

  Bree was surprised Clint didn’t offer even a hint of a smile, but solemnly bent to the hatch. “Ready?”

  Shawn nodded.

  Bree held her breath as they lifted the door, but as predicted, nothing popped up or slithered out.

  Once Clint secured the door in an open position, Shawn withdrew a flashlight from his duffel and lay down on his belly to peer into the space. Bree came closer to watch.

  “The black powder you’re seeing is from a forensic tech’s fingerprint search,” Shawn explained. “I’ll do the same thing before we go, but looks like they were thorough and likely lifted all the viable prints.”