Kate smiled at the child, and a weight lifted from her soul for a moment.

Jamie sat at the end of the dock with her bare feet in the water. Amanda had propped her swollen feet on a chaise lounge up on the deck. If Kate turned her ear just right, she could hear country music coming from an old boom box that had been in the house fourteen years ago. At least she liked the same kind of music Kate did and not that hard rock stuff.

The hair on Kate’s neck prickled, and a chill chased down her spine in spite of the heat. She glanced up to see Waylon walking down the hill carrying sunglasses by one stem, the brim of his cowboy hat obscuring his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, he was going to tell her that the whole thing had been solved.

“So you are all still here?” He sat down uninvited on her quilt and stretched out his long legs. His short-sleeved, pearl-snap shirt hugged his body and biceps like it had been tailor made. “I figured one or all of you would last about twenty-four hours and then go scampering back to your own places.”

“I don’t scamper.” Kate’s smile at Gracie’s antics disappeared, taking the happiness with it.

He chuckled. “But you still aren’t best buddies?”

“Sure we are. We’re as close as sisters. That’s what happens when you plan a murder together,” she said sarcastically. “I hope you came to tell me that you found out who killed Conrad and that you won’t be showing up here anymore.”

“Your wishes and hopes aren’t coming true this week.”

She didn’t know if it was a physical attraction brought on by that confident swagger that jacked her pulse up several notches or if it was anger that he would even entertain the asinine assumption that she would be involved in a crime.

He set his straw cowboy hat on the quilt and tossed his sunglasses inside it. “The sun was still bright when I left Dallas,” he said. “So, have you always worked in your family’s oil business?”

“I’m sure you have checked into my job, my alibi, talked to my mother, and know where I got my education and that I do not have children or pets,” she answered.

“A little prickly tonight, are you?”

“Wouldn’t you be if someone accused you of murder?”

“Maybe.”

Gracie’s dark ponytail flipped back and forth, and her bright-colored shorts and shirt flashed in the moonlight as she ran from the edge of the lake toward the dock. When she passed Kate’s quilt, she stopped.

“Kate, guess what? I just stuck my toes in the water and Mama said if it ain’t cold we can swim tomorrow.” She threw herself down on the quilt, barely missing Waylon’s hat and sunglasses. “And guess what else? Hattie says we need to go fishin’. Did you know about the festival? It’s got a carnival and rides and a Ferris wheel and funnel cakes and it’s all got to do with fishin’ so we need to practice?” She inhaled and went on. “I’m going to catch the biggest fish for little kids this year and get the prize. Hattie says it’s four tickets to Six Flags and I want to go. Daddy said he’d take me someday, but now he’s gone away and Mama will have to take me, but we will get some extra tickets so you can go with us if you want to.”

“Wouldn’t that be fun?” Kate smiled up at her, pausing the entertaining monologue.

“Gracie!” Jamie yelled from the dock.

“I gotta go. ’Bye.” Gracie ran as hard as her little legs would carry her toward the dock.

“Cute kid.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Ever wish you had a couple of children?”

He had no idea how much his question stung. She’d always wanted children, especially a daughter. But a miscarriage six months after she’d married Conrad had ended that dream. The doctor had said that the possibility of ever conceiving a child was a million to one and carrying one to term would have even slimmer chances.

“Do you?” she shot right back at him.

“I married my career and lost two wives because of it. No children. I’m too old to start now,” he said.

“And that is?”

“Forty-five. By the time I got one through college, I’d be pushin’ seventy.” He pointed at sky over the lake. “Look at that moon and the way it’s reflected in the water. Gorgeous, ain’t it?”

The lake was indeed acting like a mirror, but she didn’t give a damn about the moon. She wanted him to either tell her that she wasn’t a suspect or get up off his butt and go find the real killer.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Waylon said.

“I don’t intend to,” she said. “What are you doing in Bootleg in the middle of the week?”

“I told you that I have a little ranch in Mabelle. My folks owned it. My dad died several years ago and my mother last year. So I spend most weekends here and come and go pretty often through the week when I can get away from the desk. It’s not a long drive from Dallas,” Waylon answered.

“So you grew up in this area?” Kate asked.

He nodded. “Went to school right here in Bootleg. Know everyone in this town and quite a few in Seymour.”

“Hattie and Victor?”

Another nod. “Yes, and I knew Iris, too. So I already knew the scuttlebutt on Conrad Steele. And before you ask, there was not a shred of evidence that he caused Iris to have that heart attack.”

“I wasn’t going to ask. Conrad was smarter than that. If he had anything to do with her death, you would never catch him. Did you ever meet him?”

“No, but my mother told me about the little wedding reception at this cabin when they married.”

She’d been conned by Conrad with his compliments and pretty face. Waylon couldn’t begin to work his charm on her.

“How long are you staying in Bootleg?” she asked.

“A couple of days this time, but I’ll be around pretty often. How about you?”

“Until you tell me that I’m not a suspect.”

“Fair enough,” Waylon said.

Fair?

If life had been fair, Conrad Steele would have never entered her life.

Amanda dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. She was doing better. This was the first time she’d gotten all misty eyed that day, but the sunset reminded her of lying on the deck in Conrad’s arms the last evening of their honeymoon. Tonight Conrad was supposed to be sitting beside her, his hand on her baby bump, smiling every time their son kicked. The only thing that made her happy was the decision she’d made about his name. When the boy was born, he would be Conrad Jonathan Steele Jr., and she would call him Jonathan or maybe Johnny.

She would raise her son to know that his father was a hero who’d tried to stop a robbery, and she would never tell him about the other two wives or about Iris. He would have to grow up without a strong male role model in his life. Amanda had not had a father figure in her life, either, just Aunt Ellie, but she’d survived. This baby would have a mother who loved and wanted him very much. She swiped at a fresh batch of tears.

She laid her hand on her stomach. “I wanted more for you, baby boy. I wanted you to have the storybook daddy who played catch with you and taught you how to throw a football.”

Aunt Ellie’s ringtone startled her. She didn’t want to talk to anyone right then, but she answered the call. It was Aunt Ellie who’d saved her hide on more than one occasion, so she couldn’t be rude.

“I’m on my way home from work and thought we could chat while I drive,” she said. “We had a great day. Wanda and I went for the buffet down at the pizza joint on our way home to celebrate.”

“I’m watching the sunset from the deck. Don’t talk to me about pizza. I’m craving it, and all I had for supper was an omelet and toast.”

“You sound depressed. Are you okay? If that place and those two women are upsetting you, it’s not good for the baby. Come on home. Wanda has said she’ll help me out in the store the rest of the summer so you won’t have to come to work every day, but you’d be close to your doctor and you’ll be near the people who love you.”

Amanda managed a weak smile. “I’m only an hour away from you and my doctor, and I’m fine right here, where Conrad and I spent the happiest time of our marriage.”