Wyoming Mountain Escape by Laura Scott (types of ebook readers .TXT) 📗

Chelsey reminded him. “He’s been selling off his land, remember? Which is why it was always a little sad that he wore chaps, like he was living back in the days when he was herding cattle by horseback.”

“Hmm.” Duncan wished he’d paid more attention to the guests at Brett and Chelsey’s wedding. But they were strangers to him, and he hadn’t anticipated Brett being gunned down at the altar.

“Yeah, Brett mentioned Elroy Lansing,” Slade said. “We need to look into who owns Elkhorn Estates, the company which bought up a big chunk of Lansing’s property.”

“That might be outside my area of expertise,” Duncan admitted. “I’ll give you the computer in a moment.” He tried searching for Roland Perry, but nothing came up. After a few minutes of trying, he reluctantly turned the screen toward Slade and gave up his seat. “I give up on Roland Perry. Have at it.”

Slade worked the computer like a pro, despite the frustratingly spotty Wi-Fi. “Whoever owns Elkhorn Estates has covered their tracks really well. The president is listed as Simon Graves.” He glanced at Chelsey. “Does that name sound familiar?”

“No,” Chelsey said.

“Did you know everyone who was on the guest list for your wedding?” Duncan asked. “Did Brett invite a lot of people?”

Chelsey frowned. “Actually, he didn’t. I remember urging him to invite more friends and family, but he kept saying that his aunts, uncles and cousins were too far away and wouldn’t want to make the trip to Wyoming.”

“Work friends?” Duncan persisted. “He clearly had Kenny Martin on the list.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment. “For sure Anthony Nettles wasn’t on the list, and neither was Roland Perry. But there were a couple of others. I can’t remember their names offhand.”

Duncan tried not to show his disappointment. “It’s okay, maybe something will come to you.”

Colt prowled the interior of the cabin, seemingly antsy to be stuck inside without any natural light. Duncan could relate. After all, he was used to being active, too.

“I’ll throw together something for lunch.” Chelsey poked her head into the fridge then looked through the cupboards. “Looks like grilled ham and cheese sandwiches are a good choice.”

“Fine with me,” Slade said absently. His gaze was rooted on the computer screen. “Guys, check this out.”

Duncan and Colt hovered around Slade. “Who is that next to Nettles?” Duncan asked.

“According to the local newspaper, he’s multimillionaire Travis Wolfe. Almost makes you wonder if good ole Travis isn’t the brains behind Elkhorn Estates.”

“Chelsey?” Duncan called. When she glanced at him, he gestured for her to come over. “Do you recognize this guy?”

She came over to peer at the photograph. “Yes, I’ve seen him before.”

“When?” Duncan asked.

“I think he and Elroy Lansing were having dinner in our restaurant recently. I remember because their tab was well over $250 for two people and our server was gushing over the generous tip.”

“That gives some credence to the possibility that Wolfe is the brains behind Elkhorn Estates,” Slade said.

“But how is that connected to Coyote Creek Construction?” Chelsey asked.

“Maybe Coyote Creek Construction was going to be awarded a very lucrative contract to perform all the building associated with the new homes located within Elkhorn Estates?” Duncan offered. He pinned Slade and Colt with his gaze. “Are we sure this is all related to organized crime? Could be just plain and simple greed.”

Slade hesitated and shrugged. “It was the locals who insisted they were looking at a potential organized crime ring. Otherwise why bother to get the feds involved at all?”

It was a good point and one Duncan wasn’t sure how to answer.

They already suspected that someone within the Jackson Police Department was leaking information, so why would they want to involve the feds?

It was a mystery for sure, and one that he was beginning to doubt they’d ever solve.

Chelsey was glad to be able to contribute something to the investigation. As she made lunch for the group, she tried to remember if she’d noticed anyone else meeting over dinner at the hotel restaurant.

The faces were all a blur.

How many other deals had been struck under her clueless nose?

“Something smells good, Chelsey,” Slade said with a smile. He was a nice guy, jet black hair cut short beneath his cowboy hat, which he’d taken off while inside.

“Almost ready,” she promised.

Colt’s hair was as light as Slade’s was dark. Colt was slender and tall while Slade was broader across the shoulders. The two men seemed intent on seeing to her safety, and as much as she appreciated their efforts, she wished she could go back to her life as she knew it.

Which was a useless thought.

When two grilled ham and cheese sandwiches were ready, she slid them onto a plate and set it in the center of the table, then prepared to make more.

By the time they’d all finished eating the hour was early afternoon. She was in the process of cleaning the kitchen when a shrieking alarm went off with enough force to pierce eardrums.

“What is that?” she asked, trying to be heard above the noise.

“Car alarm.” Colt pulled his weapon and opened the front door of the cabin just enough to see outside. “It’s equipped to go off when anyone touches the vehicle.”

Chelsey frowned. That seemed a little overkill considering anyone could brush up against a car.

“Let’s check it out,” Slade said, joining Colt at the door. The two men eased outside.

Duncan locked the door behind them, then crossed over to stand beside her. They didn’t try to talk—it was impossible to carry on a conversation over the screaming alarm.

The sound stopped as abruptly as it started. Chelsey let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and rubbed her ears. “That hurt.”

“Yeah.” Duncan’s expression was serious. “But it’s nice to have.”

“I would think it gives off false alarms more often than helping,” she argued. “I mean, come on, who’s to say a dog didn’t run past the vehicle and thump it with his tail?”

“And who’s to say it wasn’t someone with malicious intent?” Duncan