Katie Rose (38 page)

“Rosie!” Emily cried, but the vision had already faded.

“Remember,” she called. “Remember love.”

A long moment passed. Emily sobbed quietly as the mirror became just so much broken glass again. Lynette had stopped swearing and stared in disbelief at the vision that faded before their eyes. “Good God, it’s a ghost!”

“Yes, the ghost of the woman you killed,” Thomas said. He trained the pistol on her, his face an icy mask.

“Emily, go get the sheriff. Tell him this time we can deliver the real murderer right into his hands.”

As Emily dashed from the house, she saw a shooting star.

Rosie
, she thought.
She’s going home
.

“That was an uncommon fine job of detecting, Miss Emily. Ain’t seen nothing better.”

Emily blushed at the sheriff’s praise, then quickly turned to the business at hand. “I should have put Lynette together with Emmet long ago! I’m still kicking myself over that one.”

Another man, who’d been sitting quietly behind the desk, rose from his position and came over to shake hands with Emily. Dressed in a wool tweed suit and a derby, he looked like a successful businessman, but when he handed her a card with a single eye in the center, Emily’s mouth dropped.

“I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Charlie Hopkins of the Pinkerton Agency. We’ve been investigating this case for some time, but I have to admit, none of my men ever got as far as you did. Tell me, please, where were you trained?”

Emily opened her mouth to reply when Thomas stepped forward. “She is self-trained, but out of the business.”

The detective looked from the lean, dangerous-looking man beside her, back to Emily. His smile dimmed somewhat. “I see. I was just hoping to understand your methods. I must say, our agency was most impressed.”

“Maybe you could clear a few things up for the lady,” the sheriff said smoothly. “Like how Lynette plays into all this.”

“Well, we’ve been trailing Lynette Armstrong for years,” the detective said slowly. “She has a long record of this sort of thing, but always stays well in the background, so we’ve never been able to pin anything on her. People never suspect a woman, so it’s easier for her to stay hidden. She always gets someone else to do her dirty work, whether it was your father, whom I suspected she blackmailed, or Emmet. She doesn’t soil her pretty hands.”

“I knew it was a woman who had broken into Shangri-La,” Emily confirmed. “By that time, I assume Lynette was growing frustrated with Emmet and had decided to take matters into her own hands.”

“Right. But still, no one could find that gold. It wasn’t until you deciphered the message in the will that the thieves really closed in.”

Thomas nodded thoughtfully. “But how did Lynette know that? She must have crept in right at the moment that Emily figured out where the gold was.”

“She did. I think her plan was to continue to
follow Emily until the gold turned up. As her assistant, it was a perfect setup, for anything you did, she would instantly know about. Once you caught her sneaking through your things, she knew the jig was up. She got desperate.”

“I still can’t figure out what she had on my father.” Emily sighed. “Or why he would agree to steal the gold, only to hide it so well all this time.”

“That part I think we’ll never know, for it certainly isn’t in Lynette’s best interest to inform on herself. We do know that she found out about the payroll shipment through an informant at Wells Fargo, and then ingratiated herself with your father. By the time he realized what he was dealing with, it was too late. Either way, I think she would have killed him. Potter bought himself a year by running away.”

“I guess that’s it, then,” Emily said briskly. “The rest is obvious. Emmet’s participation was easy to deduce, especially once I’d heard about my father’s fear of a wooden-legged man. The night of the killings, Lynette must have shown up alone. He probably thought it was a peace offering.”

“No doubt. He invited her in, gave her a drink, and she shot him. She probably thought it would be a simple matter to find the gold. But there your father fooled her again. And poor Rosie was murdered simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. May she rest in peace.”

“I don’t think that’s a problem,” Thomas said, choking back what might have been laughter. Emily sent him a wicked smile, then turned back to the sheriff.

“You’ve been most kind, and I trust you’ll take care of Lynette,” Emily said to the sheriff. “If you need any more help from me, you know where to find me.”

“You’re staying here, then?” the sheriff asked hopefully.

In answer, Emily slid her arm through Thomas’s. “If he’ll still have me.”

Amid the uproarious congratulations, the sheriff turned to Thomas, a sly twinkle in his eyes. “I meant what I said to you about needing a deputy. I don’t know what your plans are, or if you want to go back to Wells Fargo, but if not, you’re certainly welcome here.”

Emily looked at Thomas, who grinned broadly. “I might just take you up on that. I’m glad my name has been cleared, and with delivery of the gold back to the company, I’m sure they’d reinstate me. Still, I think I’ve had it with transporting other men’s wealth. A position here sounds a lot more palatable.”

“Good.” The sheriff turned to Emily, the twinkle in his eye increasing. “Perhaps then, if we come across a case that is too difficult for us, you would lend a hand? Maybe look over the facts?”

The Pinkerton man frowned, then spoke quickly, as if determined not to be outdone by this rustic sheriff. “Miss Emily, our firm thinks you have a bright future, should you ever turn to detecting. In fact, my boss, Mr. Pinkerton himself, would like an interview.”

But it was Thomas who spoke first.

“Miss Emily, soon to be Mrs. Brant, is retired. She
can help by consultation only. Am I making myself clear?” He directed the question not to the men, but to Emily.

“Certainly,” Emily said in all innocence, though a smile glimmered around her mouth. “I wouldn’t dream otherwise.”

The detective looked crestfallen, but the sheriff hid a speculative grin as Emily and Thomas walked out of the sheriff’s office, arm in arm. A strange peace seemed to settle over Emily, now that all the loose ends were tied up. Thomas turned her to face him when they reached the porch of the former bordello, and he gazed into her eyes.

“Emily, I’m sorry about your father. I know you never wanted to believe him capable of stealing that gold.”

Emily nodded. “I do think he meant for me to find it and perhaps return it to Wells Fargo. Maybe he knew he hadn’t the strength of character to do so himself. Truthfully, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Are you sure?”

Emily examined the part of herself that had refused to accept the truth for so long. She nodded. “Yes. I feel better now that the gold is being returned to Wells Fargo. It never brought anyone pleasure—only death or jail. And I finally feel like the cloud that’s been hanging over us is gone, that we can make a fresh start and truly find happiness. Do you feel that way, too?”

Thomas lowered his head and kissed her thoroughly. Emily sighed, wrapping her arms around
him, feeling the heady sensations flood through her. When he withdrew from her embrace, he smiled down at her.

“Does that answer your question?”

Emily nodded. It certainly did.

Epilogue

“I’m so sorry, Miss, I mean Madam, to disturb you on your wedding day, but there is an urgent telegram for you.”

The new postal clerk thrust the missive at her as the couple stood together outside the church. Emily glanced at Thomas, who looked concerned, then she tore open the envelope. It read:

Murder at Graystone Lodge. Damien’s Curse missing. Perhaps you can shed some light on what is so dark. Please help. Your cousin, Mary Lou Finch.

The postmark was Boston. Emily turned to her husband. “Thomas! My cousin is in trouble. I can help—”

“Oh no.” Thomas said firmly, leading her back toward the carriage. “You aren’t getting involved in any more murders. I won’t have you recklessly endangering your life again. You mean too much to me.”

His lips claimed hers in a ravishing kiss. The townspeople applauded as he hoisted her into the carriage, then gave the driver instructions as to their destination.

Emily nodded, settling into the carriage. “You are right, Thomas. I will correspond with her immediately. By the way,” she turned to him with an expression of complete innocence. “Just how far is Boston from Niagara Falls?”

“Driver, move on.” Thomas’s face was set firmly, but Emily was undaunted. Folding the telegram into a tiny square, she put it in her bridal bag. It would simply be a stop to visit family.

Nothing more.

THE EDITOR’S CORNER

Welcome to Loveswept!

Cure your spring fever with our blazing hot May releases:

If you love stories that combine thrilling mysteries with sweet and sexy romance, don’t miss Judith E. French’s
MORGAN’S WOMAN
and Katie Rose’s
A CASE FOR ROMANCE
. These electrifying reads will keep your pulse racing and your heart melting.

And since we love Debra Dixon’s wonderful stories so much, we’re absolutely thrilled about her six Loveswept releases in May:
MIDNIGHT HOUR, MOUNTAIN MYSTIC, PLAYING WITH FIRE, SLOW HANDS, HOT AS SIN
, and
DOC HOLIDAY
. Pick one up and you’ll want to read them all!

If you love romance … then you’re ready to be
Loveswept
!

Gina Wachtel
Associate Publisher

P.S. Watch for these terrific Loveswept titles coming soon: In June, we have Ruthie Knox’s super-sexy e-original
ABOUT LAST NIGHT
, Gayle Kasper’s dazzling
HERE COMES THE BRIDE
, Rebecca Kelley’s charming
THE WEDDING CHASE
, and Sally Goldenbaum’s captivating
MOONLIGHT ON MONTEREY BAY
. July brings Elisabeth Barrett’s debut e-original novel, the brilliant
DEEP AUTUMN HEAT
, Kristen Kyle’s incredibly appealing
THE LAST WARRIOR
, and Adrienne Staff’s stunning
KEVIN’S STORY
. Don’t miss any of these extraordinary reads. I promise that you’ll fall in love and treasure these stories for years to come….

Read on for excerpts from more
Loveswept
titles …

Read on for an excerpt from Sandra Chastain’s
The Redhead and the Preacher

L
ATE
A
PRIL
—1860

M
CKENZIE
K
ATHRYN
C
ALHOUN
consoled herself afterward by saying that she hadn’t intended to commit a crime the day she took part in robbing the Bank of Promise in Promise, Kansas.

But the morning it happened, it wouldn’t have done her any good to claim innocence. It was far too late. The people in Promise had long ago given up on the rangy, red-haired girl who wore men’s clothes, quoted from the classics, and called herself Macky. She was considered as peculiar as her father and as wild and out of control as her shiftless brother had been.