Too Hot to Handle (Jackson Hole 2)

He felt tears try to start in his eyes and blinked them away. He’d cried enough tears for his father, surely.

He was dead. Really, irrevocably dead.

When his throat tried to close, Shane pushed to his feet and focused on walking back to his horse.

Just to be sure, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and checked the signal. Nothing. He kept the phone in his hand and swung up into the saddle. As soon as the first bar showed, he’d call the sheriff, but what the hell would he say?

Would he report an accident? It wasn’t exactly urgent. It could wait until morning. Hell, it would be full dusk by the time he made it down to Providence. The sheriff’s department wouldn’t endanger its people for corpses that were over two decades old. He wouldn’t even want them to. But he had to report it tonight. He had to.

Once he’d ridden down the bank and into the stream itself, Shane checked his phone again, then urged his horse a little faster.

He knew it wouldn’t make a difference, but he suddenly needed to call. He needed it to be over. Over.

He reached for an itch on his cheek and his fingers came away wet. “Shit,” he gasped. He wiped his cheeks and kept riding.

When he finally reached the mouth of the canyon, he drew a deep breath, nearly panicked for reasons he couldn’t comprehend. It made no sense. His dad had been dead a long time.

His eyes caught on Providence as the last rays of the sun caught the roofs of the houses. He dialed 911 and raised the phone to his ear. “This is Shane Harcourt. My father went missing twenty-five years ago, and I’ve just found his truck. I think there are…remains. I’m out at the Providence ghost town, a couple miles off the highway. What should I do?”

What should I do?

Way too big a question to answer, even for the cops. But he listened patiently, nodding before he hung up.

What should I do? He had no idea.

Shane walked to the porch of the saloon and sat down. Fifteen minutes later, the moon rose over the old church and he was still lost and alone. Then the first hint of headlights broke the dark.

He’d started something here, and this was the place he’d finish it, once and for all.

CHAPTER TWENTY

A SMALL PARTY for Crystal apparently meant forty of her closest acquaintances milling about looking beautiful and removed. How she could possibly know more people in Jackson than Merry did was a complete mystery. Though maybe an unrestored ghost town in the middle of nowhere didn’t make for the most extensive social life.

Or maybe beautiful people were naturally attracted to places like this. The house that Crystal had borrowed from a friend had a multitiered stone patio that overlooked the valley of Jackson Hole from a comfortably superior height. Maybe packs of rich, elegant people wandered neighborhoods like this one, idly slipping in and out of parties thrown by their kind, sleeping wherever they ended up at 2:00 a.m. like a big pack of viciously polite dogs.

Or possibly Merry’s mind wandered when she was bored.

“Ugh,” she groaned to Grace. “How long do we have to stay? Would it be rude to finish this glass of wine and then leave?”

“Probably. But there’s rarely a good reason not to be rude, I always say.”

“Liar. Now that you’re working for Eve you’ve turned into a well-behaved pussycat.”

Grace shrugged one shoulder. She’d finally been civilized, and she tried to pretend she didn’t like it, but she was clearly more comfortable in her own skin than she’d ever been. Even though she was working in the same industry she’d left behind, moving away from L.A. had freed her somehow.

“You haven’t punched anyone in months,” Merry pointed out.

“Ah, but I did slap Shane.”

Merry winced a little. Now that she’d gotten some of the rage out of her system, she almost felt bad about that. But not so bad that she turned down the miniature crab cake a waiter offered. Or a second glass of wine.

“This expensive wine really is good.”

“It almost makes up for the company.”

“I’m sure they’re all lovely,” Merry said. She wouldn’t know because she’d huddled at the edge of a patio with Grace from the moment they arrived. “I’m glad you talked me into the dress, though. These people aren’t really a summer-party flip-flop crowd.”

“You look beautiful. Maybe you should pick out a guy and make your move. Get Shane out of your system with a quickie.”