“Again, once you prove you have a valid reason for asking, I’ll tell you. Until then...”

  “You do own a boat and dock it at the marina, though,” Bree stated.

  Vern blew out a breath and came to his full height. “None of your business. Now take off. I’ve got work to do.”

  “I have no choice but to believe your unwillingness to answer means you’re hiding something,” Bree said. “And you should know, whatever it is, we’ll find out.”

  “Right. Like you even have the skills to find your way out of a paper bag.” He marched out from behind the counter and went to open the door.

  Clint moved Bree away from Vern and they stepped outside.

  “Good riddance,” Vern muttered.

  Clint hurried Bree to his truck and settled her inside before he ran around the front.

  She faced him. “What did you make of that?”

  “My gut says he’s a guy who likes his privacy and doesn’t like anyone digging into his life.”

  “But you don’t think he’s the killer?”

  “I didn’t get that vibe, but I did see a Desert Tech SRS rifle locked up in the cabinet behind the counter. It’s chambered for .338 Lapua Magnums so he could be our shooter. I’ll have Shawn do a background check to see if he can find a connection between him and Laura or Jason to see if there’s a motive to want to kill them.”

  “And until then?”

  “We know Kier is connected to Laura, and he has a strong motive so we move on to him. Plus his boat was damaged. Let me call his office to see if we can meet with him.” Clint made the call only to learn Kier had gone boating. Clint hung up and relayed the information to Bree then set out for the marina, where he kept his gaze moving over the area as he escorted Bree down the dock.

  The restaurant door opened, and a tall man with dark, frizzy hair and a perfectly white smile stepped out with three other men. They were all dressed in shorts, polo shirts and boating shoes, but Clint recognized Kier from his pictures.

  “The guy in the white shirt is Kier,” Clint said to Bree. “We should approach him before they go out on the lake.” Clint made firm eye contact with her. “Stay close to me. If I catch even a hint of danger, we’re out of here.”

  She nodded. Convinced she’d follow his lead, he stepped up to Kier.

  “Mr. Lee,” Clint said loud enough to be heard over their laughter.

  Kier spun and sized Clint up with a quick once-over.

  “Might we have a word with you?” Clint asked.

  He eyed them both, then shrugged and turned back to his friends. “I’ll catch up with you.”

  After the men departed Clint explained their purpose. “Your boat is a perfect size and color to have damaged the Kahns’ boat and you have a large scratch on your bow.”

  Kier’s forehead scrunched. “I don’t even know these people. Why would I have rammed my boat into them?”

  “You sued Laura for malpractice.” Bree eyed him.

  Clint wasn’t surprised when Kier seemed to wither under her glare. “I sued a Laura Tichler.”

  “Tichler is Laura Kahn’s maiden name.”

  “Okay, so? Obviously I didn’t know her married name. And obviously that means I wouldn’t go ramming her boat.”

  “Then you wouldn’t mind telling us where you were the night they died,” Clint said.

  Kier crossed his arms and glanced down the dock where his friends stood watching. “Actually, I do mind. My friends are waiting.”

  “That’s not acceptable,” Bree said. “This is way more important than having fun with your buddies. My friends have died and they left a baby who deserves to know the truth about their deaths when she gets older.”

  “I’m not the person who can shed light on that for you.”

  “But you can tell us where you were that night and how your boat got damaged so we can rule you out. We aren’t leaving until you do.”

  “My whereabouts and my boat are none of your business.”

  “But if you didn’t do it then—”

  “Good day.” He spun and strode away.

  “Well that’s strike number two, and it’s not even noon,” Bree muttered.

  Clint wished he could force the guy to give them the answers they needed, but he’d have to settle for Shawn doing a background check on the guy.

  He dug his phone from his pocket and dialed his friend. “I need you to look into Kier Lee. He sued Laura ten years ago for malpractice. We just talked to him, and he refused to tell us his whereabouts on the night of the Kahns’ deaths or how he damaged his boat.”

  “I’ll check him out.”

  “And Vern Porter, too. I really think he’s just a belligerent old coot, but I saw a Desert Tech SRS at his place so you never know.”

  “Will do, and since I’ve got you on the phone, you should know that the blood we recovered from the hatch doesn’t match Laura’s or Jason’s blood type.”

  “So maybe the killer tampered with the generator and cut himself.”

  “But wouldn’t there have been blood on the generator then?”

  “He could have cut himself on a tool that he took with him,” Clint replied. “Or I saw bloody tissues on Isaac’s boat. He said he suffered from reoccurring nosebleeds. He could have had a bleed on the boat.”

  “That’s possible. Likely even, that a few drops would fall before he stemmed the flow with a tissue. We’ll need a warrant to get a sample, though, and we haven’t found anything that would allow me to request an official investigation.”

  “Then we need to keep digging until we do.”

  * * *

  Clint opened the passenger door of his truck, and Bree worked hard to curtail her disappointment over failing to learn anything new from Kier or Vern.

  Please let us catch a break soon, she prayed as Clint stepped back to give her access to the truck.

  A gunshot sounded in the air and something whizzed in front of Bree, shattering the truck window.

  “Gunshot,” she managed to get out before Clint grabbed her and hurled them toward the ground. He took the brunt of the fall on his shoulder and held her securely as he rolled closer to the front of the truck.

  “We’re going to move out of the shooter’s sight when I tell you,” he said, his back to the gunman as he curled himself around her to protect her.

  Another shot zipped overhead.

  “Now! Go!”

  He came to his feet swiftly and jerked her up, too, scurrying them around the front where he drew her to the ground again. A shot sounded and a bullet pinged into the truck in the location they’d just vacated.

  Bree’s heart refused to beat.

  “Stay here,” Clint commanded as he headed for the far side of the truck.

  “Where are you going?” she cried out.

  “To get my rifle from the cab.”

  “But he’ll hit you.”

  “No he won’t.” His tone held such confidence that she almost believed he’d be safe. He scooted around to the driver’s side.

  She crept along behind to watch him. He opened the door. She heard another shot, this one aimed at the door, but he managed to dodge it as he came up, grabbed the gun from the rack in the window, then dropped back down. He duckwalked to the rear of his truck, put the rifle to his shoulder to fire, then jerked back and flattened his body against the pickup.

  His gaze landed on her. “Move back to the front of the truck.”

  Fear for his safety froze her in place.

  “Now, Bree! I can’t worry about you and the shooter at the same time.”

  Afraid she’d distract him, she backed away and leaned against the dusty chrome bumper. She held her breath as she waited for another shot.

  “Just so you know, I’m calling 911,” he said.

  She should have thought to do that. She’d had enough clarity to do so at her house, but she could hardly think straight now. Maybe because she knew he would take care of her. But that was a dangerous thing to count on. She shouldn’t come to depend on him.

  “Shots are coming from the north,” he said into his phone. “I have a rifle and am hunkered down on the east side of my truck. I’ll put down my rifle when your deputies arrive, but make sure they’re clear that I’m not the gunman.”

  Time ticked slowly by. She held her body rigid, waiting for, but praying against, another shot. She wanted the shooter caught, but she also hoped he’d taken off without firing another round so Clint wouldn’t get hurt. When sirens sounded in the distance, she sagged against the bumper. Clint joined her and called Shawn to ask him to come to the scene. After Clint hung up, he faced her.

  He ran his gaze over her. “Are you okay? Nothing injured?”

  “I’m good,” she said but she was a mess inside and her hands trembled. She’d almost lost her life, for crying out loud. That bullet had been close. Way too close.

  Patrol cars came screaming into the parking lot and chaos reigned while the deputies sorted things out. They kept Bree and Clint sitting by the truck to take their statements and didn’t let them get up until Shawn arrived to vouch for them. When Bree stood, her legs threatened to buckle and she planted a hand on the hood to stay upright.

  Shawn tossed his keys to Clint. “Forensics will need to retrieve slugs from your truck. Go ahead and take mine back to the ranch, and I’ll bring yours by as soon as I know anything.”

  “Thank you, Shawn.” Bree forced out a smile. “You’ve been so helpful.”

  “No need to thank me.” Shawn peered at Clint. “Be careful leaving here.”

  Clint gave a firm nod, but the fact that a warning needed to be issued raised Bree’s concern. The moment she climbed into the truck and Clint left her to run around the front, her apprehension escalated. As it continued to do until Clint got them on the road.

  Instead of counting on Clint’s protection alone, she kept her gaze moving along the roadside and tried to ignore her continued agitation. By the time they reached the ranch, her adrenaline had ebbed, fatigue set in, and she could barely walk toward the house. Her mom and Ella were napping so Bree took the opportunity to rest, too. When she woke, she heard Shawn and Clint in conversation, and she hurried to join them in the family room.

  She took a seat on the sofa next to Shawn. “What did I miss?”

  Clint shifted in the arm chair. “Slugs recovered from my truck matched the caliber from the drive-by shooting.”

  “So it’s likely the same shooter, then.”

  Shawn nodded. “Also, during the forensic search a scrap of fabric from a wet suit was found on a screw near the boat’s gouge. Do you know if Laura or Jason owned wet suits?”

  She shook her head. “They weren’t into water sports except boating. Maybe the killer swam up to the boat.”

  “Maybe.” Clint rested his elbows on his knees. “Or maybe the killer wore a wet suit to try to minimize leaving evidence behind.”

  “It’s possible, I suppose, that the killer bought a suit for that reason alone,” Shawn said. “But it would still be a good idea to look at our suspects to see if any of them were into other water sports.”

  “I saw wet suits on Isaac’s boat, but we’ll need to check on the other guys,” Clint said.

  “Detective Newlin is already on that.”

  “Will he keep you informed?” Bree asked.

  Shawn shrugged. “Detectives tend to keep things close to the vest in a murder investigation.”

  “So now even the police agree that it was murder,” Bree mumbled. “I didn’t think Laura and Jason died by accident, but the word murder just sounds so horrible.”

  Clint worked the muscle in his jaw. “I’m going to question all three suspects again in the morning.”

  “You should probably leave this up to Newlin,” Shawn suggested.

  “No.” Clint came to his feet. “Not after the shooter nearly took both of us out today. I’m going to find the guy and make sure he pays.”

  Bree opened her mouth to respond, but Ella’s cries sounded from the bedroom.

  “Excuse me,” she said expecting the men to keep talking, but they were silent as she stepped from the room.

  Once she’d changed Ella, Bree fixed the little sweetheart’s bottle then settled in a rocker in the bedroom. Ella readily took the bottle, hopefully a sign that her teething pain had lessened. Bree leaned back and stared into the distance, her mind racing with everything that had happened. She wanted to be strong—had to be strong for Ella—but now that she was alone, she couldn’t contain her fear.

  Her life was on the line. So was Clint’s. Her mother and Ella could be in danger, too. Sure, Clint took extra precautions to be sure no one followed them to the ranch, but he’d also admitted that it wasn’t impossible for the killer to know their location.

  “What’s to become of us?” she said to Ella. To the walls. To no one. “We’re in a bad situation right now, and even when it’s over, I don’t know if I can raise you the way your mom and dad wanted.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, stop,” her mom said from the doorway. She crossed the room to kneel by Bree. “You have to quit worrying about that or you’ll make yourself crazy.”

  “If only I could.”

  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that peace can’t coexist with worry. It’s impossible. You have let go of the worry. If not for your own well-being, do it for Ella before she picks up on it.”

  “With everything going on, how can I not be worried?”

  “God promises to take care of us if we trust Him and don’t try to take things into our own hands.”

  “Easy to say when your life isn’t messed up, but now?” She shook her head. “First I lose Laura and Jason without any warning. Now my life and everyone around me is in danger. How do you find peace in all of that?”

  “You can start by recognizing God is protecting you.”

  “Is He protecting me? Is He really?”

  Her mom watched her, but what she was searching for, Bree had no idea. Maybe she was simply disappointed in Bree’s lack of faith. She took Bree’s hand, the warmth helping chase out some of her concern.

  “There’s a reason Clint’s in your life again.” Her mom made strong eye contact. “I see it as God providing protection for us when we need it.”

  “Maybe,” Bree said, and knew the thought was bound to keep her tossing and turning all night as she tried to work out God’s plan here. If she wasn’t already awake because a killer had nearly ended her life today.

  NINE

  Ella had woken crying in the morning, and they’d tried everything to console her to no avail. Clint wanted to do something to help her, but the best way to help was to find the guy trying to kill Bree so she could put her full focus on Ella.

  “I’m going to try rocking her,” Bree said and stepped out of the kitchen.

  Marie peered at Clint across the breakfast table. “Are you ready to take off?”

  He nodded.

  “I think it would be a good idea if Bree stayed here with Ella today.”

  He watched Marie for a moment, looking for any ulterior motives. “There’s a killer targeting Bree, and I don’t want her out of my sight.”

  “There’s been no sign of the killer knowing our location.”

  “True,” Clint replied, but he wouldn’t back down.

  She cleared her throat. “I also think it would be good for you to take some time away from each other.”

  At her tone, Clint lifted his chin. “Why’s that?”

  “Relax,” she said. “I don’t have anything against you. It’s just that you’ve been thrown together almost twenty-four/seven, and a break might help you both get a handle on what’s going on between you.”

  “I—”

  Marie held up her hands. “Don’t try to deny that you have feelings for each other. It’s way too obvious, and I hope you figure out a way to be together.”

  Clint’s mouth fell open. He knew Bree had been hurt when they’d broken up. He’d have expected Marie to hate him, yet she wanted Clint to work things out with Bree.

  “She really cares about you, and I want her to be happy,” Marie said as if reading his mind.

  “I care about her, too, so you should understand why I won’t leave her here.”

  Marie sat up straighter. “Couldn’t Shawn come over?”

  “He’s going with me to question the suspects.”

  “Then maybe his department could provide another deputy.”

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see she wasn’t going to back down, and she was right. He could use some time to figure out his feelings for Bree, and maybe she could use a break from being with him all the time, too. And as Marie also said, the killer had shown no signs of knowing about the ranch.

  “I’ll give Shawn a call and see what we can do.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Clint.”

  He nodded and dialed Shawn who gladly arranged for a fellow deputy to spend the day at the ranch. An hour later, Ella was still fussing when Deputy Ron Broom knocked on the front door.

  Clint let him in, introduced him to Bree and then led her to the far side of the room. He forced back his unease over leaving her at the ranch and smiled. “I’m only a phone call away if you need me.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

  Clint rested a hand on her shoulder, but he needed more. He bent down and kissed her cheek and didn’t care if anyone was watching them. “Stay safe, honey.”

  She suddenly reached up and grabbed him in a hug. “You and Shawn watch your backs, too.”

  He held her close for a moment then released her. At the door, he stopped and eyed Broom. “Don’t make me regret leaving them in your care.”

  “No, sir,” Broom replied.

  “Lock the door behind me.” Clint stepped outside and waited to hear the snick of the deadbolt before heading for his battered truck. He’d vacuumed the glass from the cab, but the broken window and bullet holes in the fender stood out like a warning.