Free Rebecca Hagan Lee - [Borrowed Brides 02] by Harvest Moon Page B

collar up around his ears. The night air was just as cold as it had been when he’d left his office hours ago. Though his eyes were bloodshot and his sight bleary, David was able to see his way along the street in the moonlight. His normally long strides were uneven and unsteady, testimony to the long hours he’d worked and the amount of sleep he’d missed. Sleep. He’d left Charlotte snoring in drunken oblivion on the tiny bed where, earlier in the day, Arnie Mason’s lifeblood had soaked the sheets and stained the mattress before trickling down to the hard plank floor.
    It still made him shudder. David had paid two dollars to engage a prostitute in conversation, then spent the time asking leading questions and studying the little room in minute detail. She’d drunk half a bottle of whisky before her tongue was loose enough, her senses dulled enough, to relax her guard and talk about the murder and the occupants of the saloon.
    He jerked to a sudden halt outside his office door, fumbled in his trouser pocket, and pulled out his key. He had Tessa’s silver rosary in his other pocket, but this… David knew he’d seen it before—on someone. If he could just remember where and on whom. He studied the length of chain entangled around his key. It was gold and very delicate, part of a necklace or bracelet, with a tiny Celtic cross dangling from one end. A Celtic cross, David thought, sometimes called an Irish cross. He carefully unwound the broken chain, and closed his gloved fist around the tiny links. David slipped it into the safety of his coat pocket. He’d found the piece of chain wedged in a crack in the wooden planking near the washstand as he leaned forward to pick up the bottle of whisky Charlotte had set on the floor by the bed. David knew the value of that gold chain; it could be a vital piece of evidence in his search for Arnie Mason’s killer. He just hoped to hell it didn’t belong to Tessa Roarke.
    David leaned toward the door and attempted to insert the key. It bounced off the keyhole, slipped from his grasp, and fell to the sidewalk with a loud metallic ping. David swore vehemently, first in Cherokee, then in English, and bent to retrieve it.
    He groaned in agony, cursing louder as his head struck the polished brass doorknob. He grabbed the key from the wooden planks near his right boot and, holding it firmly, aimed again for the keyhole below the knob.
    Suddenly the door opened. Off-balance, David lurched into the office, only to be brought up short by the feminine softness pressed against the front of his coat.
    Tessa staggered beneath his weight. Reacting instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his waist to steady him and keep them both from falling to the hard floor.
    David grabbed hold of her.
    She gasped in shock when the cold metal key touched her shoulder. It burned through the nightgown she wore, just as the bitter cold wind whipped the door back on its hinges and whirled through the office. Tessa stepped back, half-dragging David with her.
    “Come inside,” she hissed through teeth clenched against the cold. “You’re freezing both of us!” She released her grip on him, moving farther back into the room, stamping her bare feet against the wooden floor in an effort to warm them.
    David lunged forward.
    Tessa stepped around him and slammed the door before hurrying toward the stove. She hugged herself, rubbing her arms, shivering in the chilly air. She turned back to him, opened her mouth to speak, then closed it without uttering a sound.
    He stood completely still, just inside the doorway, staring at her.
    Tessa sighed heavily, then walked over to him. She took the door key from him and placed it on his desk, then grasped his index finger and jerked his calfskin glove off his hand. The other glove followed. Tessa laid them next to the key. She unwound the scarf from his neck and shook the snow from its folds. After tossing his muffler in the direction of the chairs arranged near the