Free A Lawman's Justice (Sweetwater Ranch Book 8) by Delores Fossen

shared situation had broken down barriers between them.
    So had that kiss.
    Barriers that she needed in place to keep her sanity.
    Probably Seth’s sanity, too, making her wonder: Deep down beneath the history and the danger, how did he truly feel about the kiss?
    How did
she
feel about it?
    She was already starting to doubt what she’d believed for twenty-three years—that Jewell had killed her father. And Shelby didn’t want those doubts to gain a foothold because of this insane attraction to Seth.
    They made their way to the cabin. Shelby could smell wildflowers and hear the water in the nearby creek. The creek where her father’s bone fragments had been found.
    Yes, there were a lot of bad memories here.
    The
bad
went up a significant notch when Seth and she stepped into the doorway of the cabin. The place was just one small room with an attached bath, and even though the sheriff and the ME took up a lot of the space, Shelby had no trouble seeing the bed. Or the body that was sprawled out there.
    Someone had put a mask of her father’s face on him.
    The ME lifted the mask for just a second, and Shelby saw that it was indeed Marcel.
    It felt as if someone sucked all the air from her lungs, and even though she didn’t show any outward signs of that, Seth must have sensed it because he took hold of her arm and moved her back on to the porch.
    “Who’s doing this?” she managed to say. Shelby wanted to scream. To run. But most of all, she just wanted this sick monster caught and punished.
    “We’ll find him and stop him,” Seth said. “Or
her
.”
    It took Shelby a moment to realize why he’d added that
her
. Then she saw the woman stepping from a car.
    Annette Prior.
    It’d been several years since Shelby had seen the woman, but she hadn’t changed or seemingly aged a bit. With her sleek blond hair tumbling to her shoulders, ample curves and expensive clothes, she looked like a celebrity and nowhere close to fifty. However, her forehead was bunched up as if she was upset about something.
    “Why are you here?” Seth demanded. Clearly not a friendly greeting. Probably because despite her alibi, Annette was still a suspect in his mind.
    Annette’s eyes narrowed a bit, her only reaction, before she turned her attention to Shelby. “I heard the news. Is it true? Is Marcel really dead?”
    Shelby nodded and tried to stave off the images of his butchered body. “How’d you find out?”
    When Annette got closer, Shelby could see her smeared mascara and reddened eyes. Annette had been crying. “It’s all over town. Someone called to tell me, but I had to see for myself.”
    Seth made a skeptical sounding
humph
. “Why are you here?” he repeated.
    Annette folded her arms over her chest and gave Seth a how-dare-you stare. “Marcel was a friend, and I wanted to make sure everything was being done to catch the monster who did this to him.”
    “Your friend?” Shelby challenged. She ran her gaze over Annette’s cream-colored silk top and skirt. Considering that Marcel was a ranch hand, it didn’t seem as though he’d have much in common with Annette. Still, Annette had been crying.
    “Yes, my friend,” Annette verified in a crisp tone. “We spoke at least once a month on the phone and met for lunch occasionally.”
    Seth glanced at Shelby to see if she knew any of this, but she had to shake her head.
    “Last time Marcel and I talked,” Annette went on, “he mentioned that your mother was in a psychiatric hospital. It’s good to hear Carla’s finally getting help for her mental problems. Please tell her I wish her the best.”
    Now it was Shelby’s eyes that narrowed. “No way will I mention you to my mother.”
    Though it was true about the psychiatric hospital. Equally true that her mother had issues she needed to work out. But her mother didn’t needed to hear that Shelby had seen one of the women Whitt had slept with. It’d be like rubbing salt in a still-open wound.
    “After my father