“You think they’d leave CJ?”

“I wouldn’t want to think so, but I wouldn’t think Eric would entertain notions of helping kidnappers just to get back at us, either.”

“Too bad I wasn’t able to track them while we were in the forest.”

He pulled her tighter into his arms. “Best little tracker in Colorado.”

“And Oklahoma and Texas. Not that I’m bragging,” she said with a smile.

He kissed her forehead and smiled a little, but a crease marred his brow.

“What’s wrong?”

“I wonder what evidence North could have of your uncle’s involvement in your parents’ murders.”

“He wouldn’t tell me. I think he wanted to see me.”

Tom scowled at that. “I suspect to convince you to stay with him. What triggered the killings? Do you have any idea?”

She took a deep breath and let it out. “My parents were getting ready to celebrate my sixteenth birthday.” She gave a soft snort. “Sweet sixteen and I didn’t have any friends around my age to celebrate it. You know what my father gave me? I mean, it was sweet, but not exactly what I had expected.”

Tom caressed her arm and shook his head.

“A boot knife. To protect myself with. Like I said, it was sweet of him to worry about me, probably because of the trouble I’d had with wolves who didn’t like what I was. But still, I was thinking more of a mare. A boot knife? I was away from home both days when they were murdered. If I had been there either day…” She shuddered.

Tom rubbed her arm. “Your father wasn’t home when your mother was murdered?”

“No. He had broken some horses for someone, and he went to deliver them. I was at the mercantile that day, picking up some goods my mother wanted. I—I returned home after my father did and found him in a state. He was just numb. I’ve never seen him so… shocked. He wouldn’t let me see her body. He buried her alone. I had… a sense that he knew who had done it. I asked, but he just shook his head.

“Two days later, he sent me into town for some supplies. I—I didn’t want to go. He insisted I take the boot knife with me. He was acting really strange. I wanted him to go with me. But he said he needed me to do it. I begged him to go with me. I was scared. I didn’t take the knife with me. I hadn’t wanted it. When I was halfway to town, I almost turned around. I had like a sixth sense something bad would happen.”

“He was meeting someone. Meeting the person he suspected killed your mother. Family,” Tom guessed.

“I think so. He didn’t want to tell me. I believe he confronted whoever it was, and that person got the best of him. He was stabbed to death. It was awful. Maybe that’s what had happened to my mother and that’s why my dad didn’t want me to see her. I was terrified. I was certain whoever had done it would want me dead next. North arrived and—”

“North?”

“Yeah, he was excited and said he had something for my birthday, but he needed to speak to my dad first. Then he must have seen my tears and how distraught I was. Once he learned my dad had been murdered, North never said anything more about my birthday and the two of us quickly buried my dad. He helped me pack, and I planned to take the remaining five horses and sell them. I still own the property, but I used the money from the sale of the horses to buy a small house out of the pack territory and lived there for a while. Then I moved to Oklahoma, close to my mother’s family, and from there to Texas.”

“Okay, back up a moment,” Tom said. “You didn’t smell who killed your mother? Back then no one would have had hunter’s spray to use.”

“My dad wouldn’t tell me where he’d found her. I was caught in a torrential downpour before I made it home with the goods for my mother. My dad had been outside, probably trying to calm one of our more skittish mares. I—I did smell a hint of what I thought might have been my uncle and Sefton’s scents. But I couldn’t be sure. Not with the way the rains had washed everything away. Since I suspected they had a hand in it, I thought I might have imagined it.”

“So nothing triggered your mother’s killing that you knew of? If your father confronted the killer, that would explain his death.”

“The only thing I remember that seemed significant was that I’d had my birthday.”

“And the boot knife you got.”

She thought about that for a moment. “I wasn’t really grateful… I mean, I tried to show how much I loved it. But it was a stretch. I wanted a mare. Once I found my dad…” She shook her head. “I didn’t appreciate why he wanted me to have it until I had to leave and I wanted to have it for protection. Only I couldn’t find it. Dad had another. I took his and the rifle he owned, and North gave me his boot knife. I didn’t think I needed another, but he insisted.”

“The one your father gave you—was it new? Or something passed down through the family?”

“Passed down from my father’s grandfather. It had a lovely bone handle, but still…”

“You wanted a horse.”

She nodded, feeling guilty about it still. “I was in such a rush to leave and so distraught that I didn’t think anything of it. I just wanted to get weapons, some clothes, food, the horses, and leave.”

“Do you think the killer had it? Used it?”

Elizabeth closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think that her father giving her his treasured family heirloom had resulted in her mother’s and father’s murders.

“Would either your half brother or uncle have known that your father gave it to you?”

“They might have talked about it. I could see my uncle being upset that my father, who was the first born of the two, had gotten it from their father and then passed it down to me instead of Sefton. Uncle Quinton… might have even asked my father when he would give it to Sefton.”

Tom kissed her cheek. “I can’t imagine how hard that would have been for you.” Tom took a deep breath. “I need to discuss something else with you, though. Jake said you interviewed him for a story. He didn’t tell me right away, afraid I’d be upset you’d talked with him at length and hadn’t said a word to me before you left.”

She snuggled against him. “I did conduct an interview with him early that morning, all about his photography. He left to be with his wife. Darien and Lelandi came downstairs for breakfast. Jake’s article won’t be published until next week.”




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