Soul Deep by Pamela Clare Page A

night.”
    “I’m not sure I can sleep.”
    “Try.” He hung her coat on a hook. “I’ll be
back as soon as I can.”
    Janet watched him leave, took off her boots,
and walked into the kitchen, where she made a pot of coffee—not the
wisest course of action if she wanted to sleep. But who was she
fooling? She wasn’t going to sleep with Jack gone and a shooter on
the loose.
    She carried her cup of coffee into the living
room, stood there for a moment just looking around. It felt strange
to be alone in the big house. She walked toward the fireplace,
drawn by photographs on the mantel. One showed Jack standing with
Nate and a woman who must have been Theresa. The three of them
radiated happiness, their love for one another apparent.
    Nate, who was in full dress uniform, had his
father’s jaw and blue eyes, but he’d gotten his cheekbones from his
mother. Jack looked younger with less gray in his hair and fewer
lines around the eyes. But it was Theresa who drew and held Janet’s
gaze.
    Janet could see why Jack had been attracted
to her. She’d been a beautiful woman, her delicate features
ageless, her bearing sophisticated, her hazel eyes warm and full of
life. This house had been her home. Jack had been her husband.
    What am I doing here?
    Janet had no business starting a relationship
with anyone. She ought to be focused on getting her life back
together, not allowing herself to be distracted by the first
handsome man to show her kindness.
    Then again, she’d come up here to relax and
celebrate finishing rehab. Was it so wrong to enjoy Jack’s
hospitality and his company?
    No, damn it. It wasn’t.
    Feeling on edge, she carried her coffee cup
to the kitchen sink, went to her room, and filled the big bathtub
with hot water, hoping to soak both the tension and her aches and
pains away. She sank into the hot water with a sigh and let her
mind wander, the heat immediately soothing to her sore muscles.
    She found herself thinking over the case. It
was just habit. Before the shooting, she’d often ended the day by
relaxing in the tub and mulling over the details of whatever case
she was handling. Except this wasn’t a case—or it wasn’t her case. Still, she couldn’t get it out of her head, the details
drifting through her thoughts.
    Chinook screaming in his stall. Luke shaking,
fighting tears, a deep graze in his shoulder. An angry ex-employee
trying to settle the score with Jack.
    Janet hoped they went after this Kip and
brought him in for questioning. She wanted him behind bars, where
he couldn’t hurt Jack.
    She let the tub drain, dried off with a
fluffy towel, then slipped into her pajamas, crawled into bed, and
was instantly fast asleep.
    # # #
    It was four in the morning when Jack walked
into the house. He took off his gloves, parka, and boots, stopped
for a drink of water in the dark kitchen, and headed for his
bedroom, mind and body exhausted. Luke had identified Kip from his
DMV photo in a photo lineup of six other random men. The kid had
never met Kip. If that wasn’t conclusive evidence, Jack didn’t know
what was. Luke had a deep flesh wound, but thankfully it wasn’t
serious. He’d be coming home in the morning.
    Jack had ridden back with Det. Sgt. Taylor
and had watched as Taylor and his team scoured the area around the
stables and Chinook’s stall for evidence. They’d found a .45 slug
buried in the east wall behind Luke’s cot. They’d found two shell
casings—both 9mm from Luke’s Glock 17—and a single .45 casing near
the stable door, presumably from Kip’s weapon.
    Like Chuck, Jack was surprised that Kip could
do anything as despicable as shoot man or horse. Then again, human
beings were nature’s least predictable animal.
    As he passed Janet’s room, he noticed light
coming from beneath her door. He tapped lightly. “Janet, honey? Are
you okay?”
    The moment she opened the door, he could see
she wasn’t. There were tear stains on her cheeks, and her eyes were
red. He was proud