Welcome to Mystery, Montana, a small town with dark secretsâ¦
The body found in the Dunrovin Ranch stables isnât just a crisis for Wyatt Fitzgeraldâs family or his top priority as sheriffâGwen Johansen is both the victimâs sisterâ¦and Wyattâs ex. And in a small town like Mystery, events of the past donât seem to fade. Maybe sheâd misjudged his potential when they were younger, but now he could be her greatest allyâand not just in the investigation. That is, if he can work his way around a broken heart. With the killer circling, the clock is counting down on more than Christmas, a time when family means everything and forgiveness is the best gift of all.
Something was wrong.
The store was a mess. The glass teapot, the one he had noticed the day before, was on the floor, shattered into several pieces. Beside it on the floor was a bloody handprint.
It felt like the world was collapsing around him. He glanced back at Gwen. She didnât need to see this, but he couldnât keep her from the truthâ¦or what they could possibly find if they went into the shop.
âGwen,â he said, turning around slowly to face her.
âWhatâs wrong?â she asked, all the playfulness that she had been exuding disappearing.
He shrugged. âI canât be sure until I look.â
âWhat do you want me to do?â
He could make her wait in the car, but whoever was gunning for her had to be someone they both knew, someone close to them, and it was likely it was someone who could lure her out of the carâ¦and do whatever they deemed necessary.
He couldnât risk it.
DANICA WINTERS is a multiple-award-winning, bestselling author who writes books that grip readers with their ability to drive emotion through suspense and occasionally a touch of magic. When sheâs not working, she can be found in the wilds of Montana, testing her patience while she tries to hone her skills at various craftsâquilting, pottery and painting are not her areas of expertise. She believes the cup is neither half-full nor half-empty, but it better be filled with wine. Visit her website at www.danicawinters.net.
Prologue
There was nothing that could make a woman go crazy more quickly or more profoundly than a man. The same went for mares and studs, and the proof was the lame horse that had brought Bianca to Dunrovin Ranch in the little town of Mystery, Montana.
The paint had her rear end backed into the corner of her stall, an instinct to protect herself from predators who, if sheâd been in the wild, would have already taken advantage of her injury and moved in for the kill.
Bianca snorted slightly at how the instincts between animals and people were the same. When everything was stripped awayâthe names, the relationships, the social frameworks and the moneyâhumans were nothing more than animals.
According to Mrs. Fitz, the paint mare had been in heat and had gotten into a fight with another mare when theyâd turned the paint out. Normally the two mares had gotten along, their hierarchy and roles within their social group well established, but due to the proximity of a buckskin stallion, things had taken a turn for the worse and the mare had injured her foot in the fight. Bianca wasnât sure if the animalâs leg was sprained or broken; sheâd have to get her hands on the horse before sheâd know.
âHey, baby,â Bianca cooed as she slowly opened the stallâs door and moved in closer to the mare.
The horse gave a long huff as it looked over at her. It had the wide eyes of an animal in pain and it was breathing hard. Her left front leg was swollen and angry-looking, and from the state of it, it was easy to see why Mrs. Fitz had been upset when sheâd called. If a horse broke a leg, which appeared to be the case here, it sadly often ended with the animal being euthanized.
It was the worst part of her jobâmaking the choice between life and death.
In preparation for the worst, sheâd already drawn up the syringe of Beuthanasia and left it in her bag just outside the stall in an attempt to keep from spooking the animal more than necessary. Though the recommended dose was two milliliters for every ten pounds, sheâd doubled it. It was always better to have too much of the powerful anestheticâit was more humane. One little prick of a needle and a squeeze and the numbness would wrap the animalâs world in a shroud of darkness.
The mare moved to paw the ground in agitation, but as she shifted her weight, she stumbled and squealed in pain. The sound made the hairs on Biancaâs arms rise. She personally knew all about painâthough hers was of the emotional kind. The kind no one noticed, until they looked deep in her eyes and thenâfearing what they saw would catchâthey turned away.