Free Too Sexy for his Stetson by Mal Olson Page A

serious. They could have burned thousands of acres of forest,” Brandy said, talking around the subject eating at Blade’s gut. His stomach continued to churn. He knew in his head that he was projecting his own issues onto Brandy’s situation, but he couldn’t shake the dread that settled over him every time he thought back to… He’d spent too many years agonizing over a man who preyed on young girls. A man who was still out there someplace. The man who had sent his mother into hiding and made life miserable for Blade. The longer Blade chewed on memories of that bastard and what he’d done to his mother, the more his resolve hardened. He’d find him. The creep couldn’t hide forever.
    But Skip? No way was Skip like that piece of low–life scum.
    He fisted, then flexed his hands.
    Abrupt or not, he spit out the question that had taunted him since Brandy’s comments about Skip. “So, Brandy, what about Skip Coogan?”
    Her eyes widened.
    “Did he… you know… hurt you?”
    Somehow she read his anguish. “No, it’s not anything… sexual…”
    The lump in his throat dissolved and left space for cutting words to edge past. “Jesus, then what’s your big revelation? You can’t go around demeaning a man’s character, implying things—especially about a man like Coogan.”
    “He testified against my mother. There was never any solid proof against her, but Skip’s statements cast enough doubt to ultimately convict her of murder on circumstantial evidence.”
    “That’s it?” Blade didn’t mean to come off flippant. But he was so filled with relief, knowing her problem with Skip had nothing to do with the man’s character or integrity, that he didn’t care if his remark upset her.
    She heaved a sigh of exasperation.
    He heaved it back. “Sometimes a man’s got to do what’s right, no matter the consequences.” And no matter how much Brandy wanted to clear her mother’s name, Blade wasn’t going to allow her to do so by defaming the man who was the closest thing he’d ever had to a real father.
    “There’s more.”
    Blade crossed his arms over his chest and silently waited for her to continue.
    “I think he could have… been part of the frame–up against her.”
    You think? “And you came up with this theory when?” The words came out more calmly than he’d thought possible after an accusation like that.
    Her glance fell away. “When I was eleven.”
    He scrubbed his hand across his face and almost laughed. Ridiculous. Remaining silent, he waited for her to build her case. She didn’t. And the longer Blade chewed on her accusation, the more it agitated him. Likewise, the longer he gazed into her eyes, the more he realized she was dead serious. The stench of the allegation was so potent it smothered the remaining tinge of smoke in the air.
    Even so, Blade refused to turn this into an angry debate.
    “Jesus…” What eleven year old would believe their mother was guilty of murder? “And have you uncovered anything that would justify reopening the case?”/
    “I’m working on it.”
    “But a jury convicted your mother on evidence presented in a court of law. That means twelve men and women had no reasonable doubt about her guilt.”
    “Because Skip lied. He lied about so many things. He lied about misplacing his gun.”
    “And you know that because…?”
    “For one thing, I know my mother. I know she would never have murdered anyone.” She stood, pinning him with a look of pure determination. “Evidence was mishandled during the trail. And there were questions about the actual whereabouts of Skip’s friend Joey Secada, his alibi, that night. Someone claimed they saw Secada in Madison, seventy–five miles away from the murder scene in Milwaukee.”
    When he didn’t reply, she huffed away, hiked to the faucet, and gave it an angry twist. She silently startled when the pipes retaliated with a noisy thud.
    Blade took a couple more beats to sort his thoughts. As he studied the