Why would he ask? She didn’t know any guy who was interested in genealogy. “My great-grandfather, great-grandmother, and grandmother.”
Unblinking, he stared at her.
“You seem a little surprised.”
Hunter joined her at the sink and massaged her shoulders with deep, comforting strokes and she relaxed.
“I thought he looked like someone my great-grandfather panned for gold with. But I must be mistaken.”
“Do you have a photo of them?”
“Only of Seth Greystoke and my great-grandfather, but the photo’s gone—lost in a fire. But he couldn’t have been your relation.” Hunter straightened. “About this situation with the sheriff, I’ll take care of this, man to man.” The dark threat to his voice indicated he meant it.
She wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of Hunter and the sheriff’s confrontation. She relaxed a little. “My great-grandfather’s name was Jeremiah Cramer. So you’re right about them not being the same man. As far as the sheriff goes, if you don’t tell him everything, I will. Had Ashton been drinking?”
“No.” Hunter gave her shoulders a warm squeeze and headed for the living room.
“Wait! Where are you going?”
“To board up the window.” He tossed on Michael’s field jacket, the ski cap, and gloves and was gone.
The frying pan could wait. She rushed to get her snow boots, parka, and gloves on. Why in the world would Ashton have shot at Hunter twice if he’d been sober? Was he the one who was seeing Bethany behind Michael’s back? He had plenty of opportunities and motive, jealous that he couldn’t get a girl like Michael could and that her brother had become so popular because of his artwork.
Tessa hurried outside to help Hunter, when she saw a figure dressed in a gray parka trudging and slipping along the winding road headed in their direction. She stared at him, trying to make out who the familiar figure was.
Hunter cast a glance in the man’s direction. “You sure have a lot of visitors way out here as isolated as it is and as bad as the weather has gotten.”
He began pounding a plank over the broken window.
“It’s not—oh, hell, it’s Rourke.”
Hunter paused and looked at her. “Rourke?”
“The newspaper reporter.”
Hunter raised a brow.
“An old boyfriend from high school.”
“From high school.” He pounded another piece of wood in place.
Tessa grabbed the next board for him. “He’s looking into Michael’s claim someone else was seeing Bethany. At least if he wants dinner with me, he will.”
“A date.” He took the plank from her and nailed it up.
“I told him to use his investigative skills and find out something useful concerning Michael’s innocence.”
He stopped and studied her. “So he believes Michael’s innocent?”
“No. He just wants dinner.”
Hunter smiled, but quickly masked the expression and took the next board from her.
She frowned at him. “I’m not interested in Rourke.”
“He’s simply a means to an end.”
“Right.”
“Ho!” Rourke hollered from a distance after picking himself up from the roadway a second time.
“Hey, Rourke! What brings you way out here?” Not wanting to get her hopes up too much, she prayed he’d found something that would help her brother’s case.
His cheeks red, Rourke drew closer and wiped his runny nose on a handkerchief. He gave Hunter a long, hard look, although Hunter continued nailing up boards and didn’t spare Rourke another glance.
“I worried about you being alone in this ice storm. An eighteen-wheeler plowed into an electric transformer. I tried calling, but ice storms brought the phone lines down. I see you had some storm damage.” He looked around. “Good thing you were able to hire a handyman to board up the window this quickly. Guess someone dropped him off.”
“Where’s your pickup?” Tessa asked, not wanting to explain who Hunter was when she wasn’t even sure herself.
Besides, if Rourke knew the story, he would propose taking Hunter into town to see the doctor and get him away from her, then where would she be? Probably Rourke would offer to stay with her in Hunter’s place, as if he could be the kind of help Hunter was. She imagined Rourke had never cooked anything over an open fire for one. And replace a window? Never. He’d offer to keep her warm during the night, but she wasn’t interested in him like that.
“My truck’s up that way.” Rourke waved in the direction, and then looked Hunter over really good. “Slid off the road and couldn’t get any traction. Figured since you were alone, I’d stay with you until the ice melted.”
How could she say no, if he was stuck? But she still didn’t want to explain Hunter.
“I’ll help you get on your way.” Hunter’s voice was low and gruff.
Rourke was sure to not like Hunter’s suggestion. He raised his brows, and then turned to Tessa. “Let’s go inside. I’m chilled to the bone. I see you have a fire going.”
Tessa looked back at Hunter. He still needed to nail up three more boards.
“I’ll manage,” he said to her.
She waffled. She’d promised to help, but she didn’t want reporter Rourke snooping through her things if she told him to go inside and get warmed by the fire while she helped Hunter.
He cast her a glance. “I’m nearly done. Go, Tessa. I’ll be inside in a minute for another cup of hot coffee. If you wouldn’t mind making us some more.”
Rourke glowered at Hunter.
“All right,” she said to Lord Hunter. She felt she should be curtseying to him. Handyman, hell. He was the rooster that ruled the henhouse. Her henhouse.
“You know, Tessa,” Rourke said, as he escorted her to the front door, his hand on the small of her back, “you let people walk all over you too much. Take the hired hand, for instance, he should be doing the job you’re paying him, and you shouldn’t be in this awful weather helping him.”
She thought she heard Hunter growl when Rourke touched her, and she could have strangled Rourke for speaking loudly enough for Hunter to hear.
“I don’t like it,” Rourke continued, as he walked inside with Tessa and shut the door. “You’re by yourself and the company this guy works for just let him off at your place? What if he’s some kind of criminal? You never know who these companies hire. He could be on a prison work release program.”
Tessa swore Hunter was pounding the nails into the boards twice as fast as before while she warmed up by the fire and peeled off her gloves. “Did you find anything concerning Michael’s case that will help?”
Rourke removed his gloves and shoved them in his coat pockets, and then pulled off his wet parka in front of the fireplace. “Yeah, but it doesn’t go any further than this room.”
Her heart skipped to overdrive to hear Rourke’s news.
He handed her his coat and rubbed his hands over the fire. Even in this weather, he was dressed in one of his impeccable gray suits. At least he was wearing sensible snow boots for the icy conditions. “Bethany was seeing some other guy.”
Her heart nearly stopped. Maybe finally the break they needed. “I knew it. Who was he?”
“You won’t tell anyone else, right?”
Hunter opened the door and looked from Rourke to Tessa. “Coffee ready?”
Jeez, Hunter, not now!
“Who was Bethany seeing, Rourke?” She hoped he wouldn’t clam up with Hunter listening in.
Rourke’s expression turned blank, and he shifted his attention to the fire. He shrugged. “The DA’s office proved no one was seeing her.”
Tessa could have shaken him and screamed bloody murder.
“Nice suit,” Hunter said to Rourke, and then gave Tessa a knowing look. “On second thought, I’ll check on your truck and see if I can move it.” He headed back outside.
She hung up Rourke’s coat and her own, and then set the pot of water on the fire, anything to busy herself so she wouldn’t hurt Rourke. “Who was it?”
“Who is that guy? He doesn’t act like a handyman.”
“Rourke, who was seeing Bethany besides Michael?”
“I said too much already. It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. You’ll never be able to prove Michael didn’t murder her.”
“Who… was… seeing… her?”
“The sheriff’s son. But it can’t leave this room, Tessa. I swear it.”
Ohmigod, she knew it. Her bones dissolving, she collapsed on the couch.
“Are you okay, Tessa? I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it to you.”
“No, no, I’m all right.” As right as could be expected to know her brother’s best friend could be the murderer. Bastard. And how would they prove it when his father was the sheriff?
“You promise you won’t confront Ashton about this, right?”
“I’ll hire someone really discreet to investigate it further.”
Rourke sat next to her on the couch and patted her hand. “We can have dinner together now, right?”
Dinner? Sheesh, one track mind. But she promised. She pulled her hand away from him.
“Sure, but there’s no electricity so it would have to be some other evening.”
Like a couple of months from now. Her mind flipped through different scenarios, remembering all the times Ashton had been to the house, smiling and joking with Bethany and Michael. Why hadn’t Tessa noticed what was really going on between Ashton and Bethany? Maybe she had, but she hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself.
Rourke waved at the fireplace. “It sounds like the water’s ready for the coffee.”
Still in disbelief about Ashton, she gathered her composure and rose from the couch. But then again, Ashton could have murdered Hunter last night. And he had been hunting with a rifle since he was too young to do so. Not that Bethany was killed that way, but it could prove Ashton was capable of committing murder, couldn’t it?