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  She stumbled backward to the bench, sat down, buried her face in her hands, and suddenly her head began to roar. She jerked her palms to her ears to stop the sound. “Okay! Okay! Not everybody at once. I can’t understand any of you when you’re all talking at the same time.”

  “Tizzy? Are you all right?”

  She snapped her head up. “Cooper! My God, you scared me.” She looked past him to his car. “I didn’t hear you drive up. How long have you been here?”

  “Long enough to see you crying your eyes out.” He moved closer to her. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m a little faint.”

  “What happened? Did you get too hot running?”

  She placed her fingertips to her temples. “No, my head started to roar, like my brain was flooded with too many thoughts at one time. That’s never happened before. I got dizzy. What are you doing here?”

  “I came to check on you. You’re usually home from your run before I leave each morning, and today you weren’t. I was worried something had happened to you. You’re pale as a ghost. Maybe I should take you to the doctor.”

  Her tone became bitter. “What? So now you’re watching me?”

  “No. Not watching you, watching out for you. Besides, you’re way too trusting, Tizzy. You seem to think nothing bad can happen to you.”

  A whispered laugh escaped her lips. “This from a man who keeps telling me to trust him.”

  He smiled. “Well, the smart ass in you is still intact, so I guess you’re all right. You said your head filled with thoughts. What were they?”

  “I couldn’t understand them because they were all coming so fast. I asked about Marlene and I think they were trying to tell me something, but nothing was clear.”

  He cupped her elbow with his hand. “Do you feel like you can stand up?”

  “Sure.” She attempted to stand, but wobbled and reached back for the tree. Ridge caught her around her waist and pulled her to him.

  “I’m sorry. I need another minute.” She rested her head on his chest. She liked the way her body fit against his. In his arms, she felt safe and as if nothing could happen to her. Neither of them spoke and she could hear the rhythm of his heartbeat. It was pounding, the same as hers. Finally, her head stopped spinning and she pushed away from him. “I’m better,” she said.

  “You look a little better. You’re beginning to get some color back in your cheeks. Are you sure you’re okay? Do you think you can walk?”

  “I think so. Where do you want to walk?”

  “I thought you might introduce me to some of your friends and family.” He gestured with his hand toward the graves.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely,” he said.

  “Okay.” She hooked her arm in his and they walked to Boone’s grave. “Well, you’ve met Boone, but over here is my Grandma and Poppa Perry.” Making their way up two rows, she stopped in front of a large polished black headstone. “This is Paw McAlister.”

  She gestured with her hand as if making a presentation. “Everyone, this is Ridge Cooper. The Ranger I was telling you about.”

  “You’ve told them about me?”

  “I mentioned you were investigating Marlene’s murder.”

  He scanned the graves from one side to the other. “You said everyone has a story, so pick somebody and tell me theirs.”

  She smiled with a twinkle in her eyes, pleased he was interested. “You choose someone.”

  “Okay.” He took her hand and led her up and down the rows, then stopped at two stones with the same last name. “What about these?”

  “Stanley and Leo Watkins. Bless their hearts. They were both simple. Couldn’t read, write, or tell time, but cussed like sailors. The men in town teased them unmercifully. All in fun, of course, but kinda cruel when you think about it. Anyway, Stan and Leo had an older brother who got killed in World War Two, and since he wasn’t married, they received his benefits.”

  She laughed, and noticed Ridge was smiling. “It was probably more money than they’d seen at one time. Anyway, they took the cash to an auction, and spent every penny on phonograph records. Understand, they didn’t own a record player. Well, they pulled into town with the back of their pick-up full of the records and parked in front of the grocery store.”

  Tizzy stepped from side to side as she told the story, now in full-swing. “The men congregated in front of the store, jokingly asked Stan and Leo for some of the records, since they had so many. Of course, they refused. But the men wouldn’t give up and kept badgering them until the brothers became agitated. Finally, Stan couldn’t take anymore and shouted, ‘If you want some records, let your own goddamn brother get killed in the war!’”

  Ridge laughed. “How do you know that story?”

  “My daddy. All the men in my family are good storytellers.”

  Ridge pulled his brows together, and his voice took a serious tone. “Most people think a cemetery is depressing, but the whole idea of death doesn’t seem to bother you. Why not?”

  “I think there are things worse than death,” she said.

  He cocked his head to one side. “Like what?”

  “Lots of things.” She shrugged. “Fear. Loneliness. Suffering. Torture.”

  Tizzy gazed out over the graves. “Have you ever thought someday, every person who knows and loves you will be gone? When that day comes, when no one remembers you, it’ll be like you never existed. That’s worse than death, to have never existed. That’s why I like coming here and remembering the stories. As long as we remember and pass them down, these people won’t be forgotten.”

  He wagged his head. “I’ve never met anybody like you.”

  There was a tone to his voice she’d not heard before. His eyes were warm, his expression soft, his lips slightly parted as if ready for a kiss. Her cheeks began to burn. Suddenly conscious of her breast pressed against him, she slid her arm from his.

  The clouds shifted and the sun disappeared. “I think there’s rain in the forecast. We’d better get going,” she said.

  Once inside the car, Ridge fixed his eyes on her. “So, Boone was the love of your life?”

  Her heart stopped for a moment. She hadn’t expected the question. She took a deep breath, and stared out toward his grave. “I thought he was.”

  “What do you mean thought?”

  “I tried to blame Marlene for Boone’s death, but it wasn’t her fault. The truth is, he loved her more than me.” She closed her eyes and tears rolled onto her cheeks.

  Ridge quickly scrambled for his handkerchief. “Oh God, I’m sorry.”

  It’s okay.” She pulled herself together. “First, you must understand how important appearance is in a town this size, especially for a woman like Marlene. She wanted her life to appear perfect. Perfect wife. Perfect children. Perfect husband. Perfect house. Perfect, perfect, perfect. Boone knew that. He also believed if he didn’t come back and help run the bank, his refusal would be a direct slap in her face. So, he did the one thing that wouldn’t hurt her image. He chose to serve his country.”

  Tizzy tried to draw a deep breath, but only managed to partially fill her lungs. The memory of Boone, and his decision, caused a bitter taste in her mouth. She swallowed hard. “Marlene would still be perfect and she could boast how perfect her brother was for being a patriot. So, you see, he didn’t love me enough to stand up to her. It was more important for him to spare her feelings than to make a life with me. Besides, she’d cared for him since he was twelve and he owed her, and she never let him forget it.”

  Tizzy tried for another breath, this time with some success. “I’ve never told anyone that. Even saying it out loud hurts. I guess the answer to your question is . . . no. He wasn’t the love of my life. I wanted him to be. But the love of my life has to love me more than that.”

  Ridge reached out and took her hand. “I think Boone loved you more than Marlene by doing what he did.”

  She snapped her head toward him. “You didn’t even know h
im and you’re defending him?”

  Ridge quickly shook his head. “I’m not. But I’m a guy and sometimes we do something we think is the right thing and it turns out to be the absolute wrong decision.”

  She gave his hand a squeeze. “Thank you for trying to make me feel better, and you may be right. Maybe he thought he was doing the best thing for everyone. But he’s dead. Gracie doesn’t have a daddy, and I’m alone.” She turned away for a moment, then faced him again. “It seems all I do is cry when I’m with you.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ridge said.

  Now the sky growled and flashed. The trees swayed in the wind, and rain trickled down the car windows distorting the view. Tizzy held his gaze. “Yeah, all I do is cry and all you do is apologize,” she sniffed. “We’d better get home.”

  She closed her eyes and fought the storm of emotions filling her chest.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Draped with an antique lace cloth, the beauty of the dining table was lost beneath witness statements and pertinent documents concerning the case. Ridge sorted and shifted the papers trying to organize them. He took out a legal pad and marked off columns across the page, then headed each one with a name. Tizzy Donovan. Carl Weston. Kyle Richmond.

  After interviewing Norma Harkey, he’d been excited about the information concerning the Weston’s marriage. Anything pointing him in a direction away from Tizzy was good news.

  The clock on the mantle started to strike. Ridge glanced at his watch. Eleven o’clock. He had planned to meet Bubba at McAlister’s for a beer. He got up, removed his shirt on the way to the bathroom.

  Once inside the shower, he placed his hands flat against the wall in front of him, lowered his head and let the spray of hot water rain down on him. He wanted to clear his head of the case. He stepped out, leaned forward and wiped the fog from the mirror with his hand. He was six hours past a five o’clock shadow, but decided against shaving. Hell, stubble was in. He liked it. Maybe she did too. He wanted to be with her. He knew it was wrong. But he didn’t care. Every time they were together, his desire for her grew stronger.

  Ridge smiled, remembering what she’d said to him. You should smile more, it becomes you. The way the words “it becomes you” spilled from her mouth with a soft southern drawl caused his heart to race. He shook his head. Cooper, what are you doing? Are you willing to risk your job? Hell, your career? For a woman you barely know? A woman involved in a case? The logical answer . . . the professional answer . . . was no. But his heart’s answer contradicted logic.

  * * * * *

  The weekend kicked off with a rowdy Friday-night crowd at McAlister’s Tavern. Ridge slid onto a stool at the end of the bar and gave the room a quick sweep of his eyes. Jerrod Neiman’s rendition of Lover Lover blared from the juke box. Directly behind him, three young women sat at a table swigging beer while a couple of men circled the room, marking their territory. Ridge smiled, recalling a time when he would have been among them.

  His thought was lost when Lauralee pressed her body against his back, draping her arms around his shoulders. Slightly slurring her words, she asked. “How’s it going with Tizzy?”

  He turned his head and spoke over his shoulder. “What are you talking about?”

  “You and Tizzy. The two of you together.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean, so why don’t you tell me?”

  “The other night, Tizzy had a little talk with me about you. She said for me to keep my hands off because she wanted you for herself. Hell, she hasn’t been laid in like . . . forever. After all these years without a man, I guess she’s decided you’re the one.”

  Ridge took her arm and pulled her around to face him. Unsteady, she sat down on the stool next to him. He leaned forward and cast a glance down the bar. “She told you that, huh? What else did she say?”

  “She said, ‘Lauralee, keep your hands off him, because hee-es mine.’” She drew her words out and bobbed her head and giggled. “Hell, she’s been manless so-o-o long, she’s a born-again virgin. Well, she threw in a bunch of pleases and thank yous, cause that’s just how she is. She just drips sweetness.”

  He shifted on his stool to find Tizzy and caught a glimpse of a man sitting alone at a corner table. He recognized the unmistakable slant of his Stetson and felt sick to his stomach. Frank Reynolds, in his early fifties, was as fit as any thirty-year-old. At six-feet-four and over two hundred pounds, his size alone was enough to intimidate most men. Ridge stood up and walked over to him. “Captain Reynolds? What are you doing here? I mean, I’m surprised to see you, sir. Is there a problem with the investigation?”

  “No, Cooper. This is a social call. I don’t think I mentioned, I’m old friends with the McAlisters. Saint and I went through the academy together. I thought I’d pay a friendly visit and kill two birds with one stone. I’d get to visit the McAlisters and talk to you about the case.” He craned his neck toward Lauralee. “Please, sit down, Cooper. I see you’ve made a friend since you’ve been here.”

  Ridge glanced over his shoulder at Lauralee. “Who? Her?” He gave a whispered laugh. “Believe me, Lauralee wants to be everybody’s friend. She may try to be your friend before the night’s over.”

  “How do you like small town life?” Reynolds asked. “I understand you’re on good terms with local and county lawmen.”

  “Yes sir, they’ve been very helpful. As for as the town, it’s quiet and laid back. Good for working a case.”

  “Well, from your reports, you’re coming along. You’ll get information concerning the vic’s car on Monday. I understand they still don’t have a COD. Nothing came back on the original toxicology report, so they’re running more tests,” he said. “Don’t let me keep you, Cooper. You’re off the clock, so go. Enjoy yourself.”

  “Yes sir. Thank you. Enjoy your visit.” He shook the man’s hand and strode away. Beads of perspiration formed on Ridge’s forehead and above his lip. He wiped the sweat with the back of his hand. The remarks about the local and county departments let him know Captain Reynolds had been asking about him. Social call, my ass. He’d come to town specifically to check on him.

  He took his place back at the bar and scanned the room for Tizzy. His stomach knotted. She was headed to the dance floor with Captain Reynolds. Damn! He wondered what she was telling him.

  Just after midnight, Bubba and Rayann came in. As usual, Bubba shed his gun and uniform shirt, leaving him in jeans and a tee-shirt that hugged his thick muscular chest. They were the spittin’ image of Ken and Barbie. Rayann clung to him as they danced. Captain Reynolds and Saint McAlister were sitting at a corner table, laughing as though they were reminiscing about old times. Tizzy busied herself wiping down the bar. Stool by stool, Ridge moved closer, until he was directly in front of her. “How ’bout a dance?” he asked.

  She didn’t break her tempo as she continued to swirl the wet cloth across the counter. “I don’t think so, Cooper. I have work to do. But thanks for asking.”

  He smiled. “What? So now you’re playing hard to get?”

  “No,” she said. “I have things to do, that’s all.”

  He took a final swig of his beer. “Oh, by the way, I have some good news. As it turns out, I’m not gay after all.” He broke into a laugh.

  She hesitated briefly, then started to wipe again. “Oh well, that is good news. Congratulations.”

  “Yeah, thanks. According to Lauralee, that’s not exactly the story you gave her.”

  Tizzy continued to wipe the bar. “Well, I wouldn’t put too much faith in anything Lauralee might tell you. She’s generally buzzed most nights. Who knows? She probably got her conversations confused.”

  “Yeah, probably,” Ridge said, as he walked away.

  * * * * *

  The door to the bar swung open. Saint looked past Frank Reynolds, then shouted to the young man standing inside. “Sorry, son, we’re closed.”

  The thin man with long dirty blond hair, unshaven and sporting a gold hoop from each ear lobe,
stepped farther inside, pulled a gun from behind him and said. “No, I don’t think so. Give me the money from the register.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  With the scrawny man’s announcement, everyone froze in place.

  He spoke to Tizzy. “You, honey, come out from behind the bar.” Next, he shouted toward the dance floor. “You, Blondie and your boyfriend, stand over there.” He waved his gun toward Saint and Frank’s table.

  Saint slowly stood up with his hands in the air. “I’ll get the money for you. We don’t want any trouble.”

  Agitated and glassy eyed, the man responded. “Don’t try anything funny.” He pointed the gun toward Tizzy. “You, honey, kill that music and come over here by me.” Tizzy unplugged the juke box and slowly moved to him. He spun her around and crooked his arm around her throat, pulling her against him. Shaking and sniffing, he said, “Anybody tries anything, I’ll kill her. I swear I will.” He pressed the gun to her head.

  Saint took money from the register, put the cash in a bag and laid it on the counter. “Here, take the money and let her go. We’re not going to try anything. Just take the money and leave,” he said.

  The man nuzzled at her neck. “I bet me and you could have us a good time. Couldn’t we?” he said, dragging his lips down the side of her neck. He moved his hand from her throat to place it across her breasts.