Casey didn’t look all that relieved by the news.
He thought about the notebook and the other information he’d found. This was definitely not the time to tell her about that—or his suspicions.
During his extensive research on the hotel, he’d found that every few years, a young girl connected to the hotel would go missing in Buckhorn. Megan, though, was the only one whose body had been found.
“You seemed to have attacked this with the same intensity I suspect you had with your business,” she said. He smiled in answer as the waitress brought their meals and drinks. They didn’t speak until the young woman left them alone again.
“I’m sorry I scared you earlier.” She looked as if she was going to deny it, but he rushed on. “I’d been looking forward to meeting you.” He picked up his fork and knife and cut a piece of chicken-fried steak. He took a bite, then cut a piece and slid it onto her plate with a grin.
He knew the smell alone had to have her mouth watering, but she still pretended she didn’t really want it even as she picked up her cutlery, cut a piece off and popped it into her mouth. She closed her eyes as she chewed, making him chuckle at her expression.
“It’s as good as it smells, huh?”
Those blue eyes flashed open. “This steak is wonderful.” He couldn’t help but grin. He liked looking at her. She had a very expressive face. He wanted to ask her if she still was interested in art, but then he’d have to tell her that her grandmother had saved a lot of her earlier works. He didn’t want to embarrass her.
Casey appeared more relaxed as if actually enjoying herself once she got some food in her. “You really spent a large portion of the winter here?” she asked, as if as curious about him as he was about her. They hadn’t talked about him making an offer on the hotel yet. It didn’t seem like the time or place. “How was it?”
“Cold, snowy and miserable, but at the same time beautiful in a harsh sort of way. It separates the men from the boys to winter-in, in Montana. I found it rather exhilarating.”
CASEY HATED TO admit it, but she found being in his company was both exhilarating—and exhausting. He exuded enthusiasm, charisma and pure, unrelenting male sexiness. For a man who said he’d found himself lost and at loose ends, he’d certainly snapped out of it. She said as much, making him laugh.
“All because of the Crenshaw Hotel and your grandmother. I was lost when I got here but became fascinated with the place.” He raised a brow as if seeing her skepticism. “Why do you find that so hard to believe? I was skeptical at first about the place being haunted. Now, not so sure it isn’t.” He grinned, wanting to lighten the mood. “But if Megan’s the one haunting the hotel, I would imagine this reunion will bring her out. Don’t you think that’s what someone had in mind when they planned this?”
Casey had no idea what the planner had in mind and said as much. She also had no intention of hanging around long enough to find out, but still his words made her shudder inwardly. There’d always been stories of ghosts at the Crenshaw for as long as Casey could remember. The stories were passed down each summer season. The young men on the staff always loved to scare the young women—and even some of the guests until her grandmother admonished them.
But after the murder, more and more guests at the Crenshaw Hotel reported seeing a young woman in a white dress stained with blood. Their stories put the Crenshaw on the map as one of the most haunted hotels in the West.
It amazed Casey, who scoffed at even the idea of ghosts, just as she marveled that there really were people who wanted to spend the night in a hotel with an alleged ghost haunting the hallways. Her grandmother had always smiled good-naturedly when asked about the ghosts.
That was why Casey had been so shocked when on her deathbed Anna had sworn that she’d seen Megan. “It was her,” her grandmother had said, gripping Casey’s hand so tightly that it hurt. Casey had felt a chill as she remembered the blonde, blue-eyed and sexy seventeen-year-old Megan Broadhurst had been. It was a memory she feared she’d never be able to forget.
“Gram, it was just your—”
“I saw her. You should have seen the look on her face,” her grandmother cried. “Such torment. It was as if she were begging me to help her. There was blood on her dress, blood in her hair. Casey, that girl can’t rest until her killer is found, and neither can I.” Anna’s words came out choked. “You can’t let that developer who’s been trying to buy the hotel stop you. Once the hotel is demolished... You can still get her justice before it is too late. Do it for me.”
Casey had tried not to scoff. “I manage a hotel. I’m not a detective or—”
“Casey, please. I know about your nightmares. Her killer has to be found before the hotel is turned to rubble, or none of us will ever be free, especially you. Do this for yourself. Do it for me. Promise me.” Her eyes closed, her
