“Are you hungry?” He glanced at her.
She shivered. “No. I can’t eat.”
He understood she felt that way now, but they’d be hungry by morning. The body had a way of overriding grief to sustain basic needs. What was left of the sunlight was already fading and hunting in the dark wouldn’t work, even if he had something to hunt with other than his penknife, which he didn’t.
There was no point in thinking about food now. Tomorrow he’d need to come up with another plan.
What that would entail, he had no clue.
“Take my jacket.” He tucked the edges of his tux around her shoulders. “The rock will be cold. Better that you stretch out on the ground instead.”
“Okay.” She did as he suggested, looking like a waif in her dirty and ripped wedding gown, wrapped in his tux. There was a long silence as they watched the fire. The flickering flames were mesmerizing, but now that he’d secured the basics of their survival needs, he wanted to understand exactly what had gone down earlier that evening.
“What was Brett involved in?”
She turned to stare up at him blankly. “What do you mean?”
“Brett must have been involved in something dangerous. Do you know anything about this new job he was all excited about? Something about working protection detail for a wealthy rancher who lived near the hotel?”
Her beautiful blue eyes crinkled with confusion. “What wealthy rancher? Brett worked as a project manager for Coyote Creek Construction. They construct businesses and residential homes. I don’t know anything about Brett’s alleged job of protecting a wealthy rancher.”
He wrinkled his brow in confusion. “How long has he been working for Coyote Creek Construction?”
“I’m not sure, maybe a couple of years? Why would he tell you some weird story about a new job working for a rancher? Especially a wealthy one? The only rancher we know is Elroy Lansing, and he certainly doesn’t need protection from what I know. Frankly, his ranch has been going downhill the past few years—rumor has it he’s selling land to anyone offering a cash deal.”
No wealthy rancher needing protection? It didn’t make any sense. Brett had obviously lied about his job, either to him or to Chelsey. And the more important question was, why? There was no reason, especially if he had a job working as a project manager for a construction company.
What secret was Brett covering up?
Whatever it was, it had likely gotten him killed.
And worse, put Chelsey in harm’s way.
TWO
Lying on the ground wrapped in Duncan’s jacket and watching the flickering flames dancing amid the kindling was surreal. The peace and tranquility were at direct odds with the horrifying way her wedding had ended, even before it had begun.
Chelsey had lived in Wyoming for twelve years, so it wasn’t as if she’d never camped outside. She had, but never in a wedding dress. And never with Duncan determined to look after her.
It seemed wrong to be resting here, somewhat relaxed, when Brett was dead. Maybe it was a sign that her body couldn’t tolerate any more stress.
The week leading up to the wedding had been bad enough, wrestling with her doubts. Now all she felt was a blunt dullness. A resignation that she couldn’t go back and change the past.
Brett was gone. It was difficult to wrap her mind around it. Duncan was right to explain how the reality of losing him hadn’t hit her yet.
If only she’d explained to Brett how she was feeling before today. Maybe if she’d asked him to call off the ceremony, he’d still be alive. Mad and upset with her, yes, but alive.
Duncan’s questions about Brett’s job disturbed her. Why would Brett make up a story about protecting a wealthy rancher? Did he feel the need to be viewed by Duncan as more important than he really was? She remembered how Brett had planned to follow in Duncan’s footsteps in joining the army, but his asthma diagnosis had made him ineligible to serve.
Was that what his bizarre story was about? Feeling better about himself?
They’d never know. Her chest tightened painfully. It was inconceivable that Brett was involved in something that had gotten him killed. Maybe this was nothing more than a case of mistaken identity.
But if so, why shoot at her?
The temperature dropped, making her shiver. Duncan must have noticed because he scooted closer. “Keeping close will help us both retain body heat.”
She moved until her body was partially wrapped around his. Duncan’s warmth was a balm to her fear and worry.
Trust in God. Wasn’t that what her church pastor had taught them? She shied away from the thought. Concern over breaking her commitment to Brett had been something she’d wrestled with. She couldn’t imagine what Pastor Rick would have said if she’d told him she needed to break off her engagement and cancel the wedding.
Had the local police been called? Were there men and women out there right now searching for the gunman? As well as for her and Duncan? It would make sense that they would be, especially as they were both witnesses.
Unless there was something she was missing.
It hit her suddenly, with the force of a brick to her abdomen, that she might be a suspect in Brett’s murder. There was no motive, unless someone with Duncan’s intuition had figured out that she had changed her mind about marrying him.
Not that it was really a motive. Killing him was a drastic measure when they could just as easily get an annulment. Yet who else would want him dead?
She had no idea. The thought of being a suspect in murdering Brett in cold blood was sickening.
“Relax, Chelsey. I can feel waves of tension radiating off you. Try to get some sleep.”
It was quiet, other than the usual night sounds of the
