hadn’t tried. It might help not to have any pressure for the first few dates. I think it’s a good idea.” So it was settled then. They were going to sneak around like what they were doing was horribly wrong. It said too much about her that it gave her a small thrill to think of the subterfuge. Rayne needed help. Deep therapy, apparently. Surely she was psychologically damaged in some way to get a kick out of the situation. “So you can call me and let me know where to meet you. Or can you? Because you’ve been ducking my calls for over a week.” Dare held his hands up in surrender. “I swear I’ll fill you in on the case completely on Saturday night. How does that sound?” “Like the best I’m going to do,” Rayne sighed. “I’ll see you then.” The chances were high she’d see him before that, but they were going to pretend they barely knew one another. “See you.” This time Dare did exit her vehicle before bounding up his front porch steps two at a time. She waited until he was inside then backed down the driveway, heading for home. Camy didn’t realize how successful the evening had been. Rayne had a date with Sheriff Dare Turner. She better pick up those ice skates for hell. It had to have frozen over.
Chapter Thirteen
D are scrolled through the background information he’d been able to piece together regarding his murder victim Patrick Moulson. The man was born and raised in Lexington, Kentucky before he joined the Army after high school. Four years later he was discharged and never seemed to find his place in civilian life. He’d drifted from one job to another while dating one girl after another, never settling down. That wasn’t against the law of course, but it spoke of someone who might be troubled or easily swayed into crime, especially if money was hard to come by. Moulson’s bank account was as bare as his apartment in Salt Lake City. Hardly any furniture, a closet half full of clothes, and an empty refrigerator were all he’d left behind when he’d come to Montana. Dare still hadn’t been able to find where Moulson was staying while he was here. He’d checked every hotel and motel between here and Billings, turning up nothing. If the man had slept in his truck that too had disappeared without a trace. Unless Patrick Moulson was a magician, personal belongings like clothes and vehicles didn’t generally just fade away. They had to be hidden or disposed of. That meant an accomplice. It was a good bet that the accomplice was the shooter and had hidden any evidence that Moulson was in the area, but that simply challenged Dare all the more. Unless they’d dug a gigantic hole somewhere that truck could still be found. It might have a clue as to the identity of the killer. Or even just the why of the situation. He’d settled for that right now. The forensics team hadn’t done much better. Fingerprints confirmed Moulson’s identity but all the other prints had led to a dead end. Rayne kept her shop clean and neat but there were still prints from at least half a dozen people, none of which were in the system. Ballistics were run but the bullet hadn’t matched anything in the database. It was beginning to piss him off. His phone vibrating in his pocket pulled him from his thoughts. “Turner.” “Hey Dare, it’s Tanner. Got a minute? It’s important.” Tanner Marks didn’t use that word lightly so Dare was all ears. “Of course. What’s going on? Is there something I can help you with?” “I think you and I need to start working together, my friend. You know I’ve been working on this bank robbery, right?” Dare had looked at the footage but hadn’t seen anything that would help the investigation, so he wasn’t sure where Tanner was going with this. “I do. Have you found something?” “We did. Remember our two victims from the bank robbery? The ME pulled the slugs and ran them through the system. When the ballistics came back this morning it