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Ellie’s hand tightened around the mug of coffee for a moment before giving him her full attention. “It’s too early in the morning for heavy-handed seduction, Tanner,” she said calmly. “Stop stalking me and pour yourself a cup of coffee. I’m willing to bet it’s a lot better than anything you’ve had this morning.”

To her relief it worked. The predatory air left him, he strolled to the stove and helped himself. “You might lose the bet. I stopped off and had a cup with Addie Pritchard on my way over here. She makes damned good coffee.” He took a tentative sip, impervious to the scalding temperature. “It’s too weak.”

“What else would you expect?” She wanted to button the top of her flannel nightgown, but refused to give in to the temptation. Even with Tanner’s high-powered sexuality turned down to only a dim glow she was acutely aware of her state of undress.

He took the straight-backed chair across the table from her, flipped it expertly and straddled it, resting his arms on the back. “No comment. Do you always get up this early?”

“I didn’t sleep well.”

He grinned. She watched in fascination as it started as a smirk, broadened, and finally reached the cool depths of his blue eyes. “Sorry.”

“That’s all right,” she said in her mildest voice. “I expect to sleep very well in a couple of weeks.” Absently she rubbed her knee through the heavy flannel nightgown.

“Once I’m gone,” he supplied, his eyes watching her hand. “Think you’ll last that long?”

“I’ve had sleepless nights before.”

“I wasn’t talking about sleeping.”

“Tanner...” Her voice carried a very definite warning.

“I’ll behave,” he promised rashly, and she didn’t for one moment believe him. He reached in his shirt pocket for his cigarettes and came up empty. “Damn,” he said, rising. “I left my cigarettes out in the car.”

“You don’t really need to smoke,” she protested.

He stopped where he was. “I’ll tell you what, Ellie. I won’t smoke if you don’t limp.”

Enough was enough, she thought grimly, pushing back her chair. “Come here, Tanner,” she said in an even voice.

His expression was wary. “Why?”

Ellie allowed herself a determined little smile. “I’m not going to hurt you. I want to show you something.” She reached down and pulled up her flannel nightgown, halfway up her thigh, exposing her knee to his reluctant gaze.

She tried to see it from his viewpoint. It was part of her body, and she’d learned to accept it, but a stranger, especially someone like Tanner, wouldn’t be used to women with those kinds of scars marring them.

The scars ran from halfway down her calf to midthigh, deep, wide scars that still kept their livid color, a color that was unlikely to fade after all these years. Her leg was twisted slightly, and all the physical therapy in the world hadn’t managed to straighten it completely. Ellie looked down at it and sighed.

“Pretty ugly, isn’t it?” she said evenly. “I hate to tell you Tanner, but it makes me limp.”

She shouldn’t have done it. His mask was back in place, his eyes cool and blue and unreadable. If she’d hoped to shock him into some sort of reaction, she’d failed.

“I’ve seen worse,” he said. “You don’t seem to have any trouble riding. If you can control that black beast of yours then you can’t be that messed up.”

“Shaitan’s very responsive,” Ellie said, flaring up at the insult to her beloved horse.

“Still trying to convince me you’re a cripple?”

“I’m not a cripple,” she shot back. “Sometimes my knee hurts and I limp. It’s that simple.”

“And sometimes my nerves hurt and I smoke,” Tanner said. “Another simple equation. I’ll get my cigarettes, and you can get your cane. Where’d that fancy thing come from, anyway? The head of it looks like solid gold.”

“It is,” Ellie said. “It was a birthday present from the Judge.”

“It figures,” he drawled. “What’d he do, give you a wheelchair for Christmas?”

“Nothing’s going to shut you up, is it?”

He shook his head, unrepentant. “It takes a hell of a lot to do it.”

“Get your cigarettes, Tanner,” she said, pulling the heavy flannel down over her knee again. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

“That’s a shame. I like arguing with you.”

“Why?”

“Why?” he echoed. “I’m not sure. Maybe because things are safer that way.” And before she could respond he’d headed back out the kitchen door, leaving it open to the early-morning chill.

The air was cool and crisp outside, unseasonably chilly, and he crossed the walkway to the car in long strides, taking in deep breaths of the fresh morning air. He stopped by the Buick and leaned against it for a moment, unseeing.

He began cursing, a low, steady stream of profanity. He felt sick, shaking with a rage so deep, so profound that he wanted to pound on the shiny black hood of Ellie’s car.

He pushed himself back, forcing himself to take slow, calming breaths.

It had never seemed real before. Reading the newspaper accounts, seeing the survivors, even visiting the scene hadn’t made it sink into his thick skull.

But those long, dark scars on Ellie Lundquist’s leg were real enough. The lines around her warm brown eyes and her generous mouth were lines of remembered pain, and the limp was real. And his father was a vicious, murdering bastard.

What did that make him? What right did he have to come back here, to remind people, to remind Ellie of a past that was better left buried? Even for Alfred’s sake, did he have the right to dredge up past miseries?

Except that those miseries weren’t in the past, weren’t safely buried. They were alive, tormenting this town, and his presence made no difference, one way or the other. The people in this town had to come to terms with that day of violence, with his father’s life, just as he had. All of them, Tanner included, had put it off too long.

She was sitting where he’d left her, staring into her coffee. Her hair hung down her back in a thick chestnut tangle, her bare feet were curled on the chair rung, and her forehead was creased with thought. With worry?

As usual he felt like the world’s worst bastard. As usual he wasn’t going to do anything about it but make things worse. He didn’t take his seat again, but began prowling around her huge, dark kitchen, opening cupboard doors, intensely aware of her troubled gaze watching his progress. “What’s on the agenda for today?” he asked, poking around the Rice Chex. “Any charnel houses we could visit? Maybe we could have a picnic in the graveyard.”

She ignored his tone of voice. “I’m trying to think who would be the best person for you to talk with. Lonnie’s available anytime. He has an almost ghoulish fascination with that day—he could tell you anything in terms of facts and figures, but he doesn’t necessarily know about emotions. Addie wasn’t around. Georgia Bellingham lost her husband and her brother, but she’s just finishing teaching for the year and she’d be pretty busy. You wouldn’t get anywhere with Pete Forrester, so there’s no need to try the Fireside Cafe. Maybe George Throckton—he lost his mother and father. Or Mabel Henry. She was dating Nils-Jacob Lundquist. Or there’s—”

“Please stop,” he said, his voice low and bitter as he tried to halt her cheerful litany of death. “Didn’t anyone die a natural death around here?”

He could feel the warmth in her eyes—it was a tangible thing, reaching out to him, enfolding him in comfort. Determinedly he shook it off.

“Well, a few,” she said. “The Judge’s wife, for one.”

“I thought you were the Judge’s wife,” he countered, seizing on a new topic as would a drowning man a lifeline.

If he’d hoped to shake her he’d failed. She merely shrugged. “For sixteen years of my life I’d thought of Mrs. Lundquist as the Judge’s wife. Just because he happened to marry me later didn’t really change things. They were made for each other.”

“Made for the Judge, eh? I can just imagine. She must have had blue hair, an iron jaw and a massive bosom.”

Ellie giggled. The sound was soft, unexpected, and it began uncoiling the knot that had twisted in his gut. “I don’t suppose it takes a whole lot of E.S.P. to guess that. She also had the kindest heart around.”

“What got her? Since you said it wasn’t my father’s M-I rifle.”

“Don’t, Tanner,” she protested. “Mrs. Lundquist died of a heart attack a year before the massacre.”

“Lucky her.”

“Tanner...”

“That reminds me,” he continued, closing the door on the cereal boxes and turning to face her, leaning back against the counter. “You said someone was teaching school. How come I haven’t seen any children around? Did Charles wipe out everybody of childbearing age?”

“Of course not. Most young people leave here as soon as they can. There’s not much to offer a growing family. The few that stayed bus their children three towns over to the regional school. A lot of them spend the week with relatives and come home on the weekend. But you’re right— there aren’t too many of them.”

“And you and Lonnie haven’t contributed your share.”

He didn’t miss the tightening of her soft, generous mouth. “Clever of you to notice. Do you think I should do something about that? Maybe you could drop me off at the Gazette and I’ll get to work on it.”

She was clearly hoping to goad him. He gave her a brief smile. “Don’t try sarcasm with me, Ellie. It doesn’t work. Besides, I think you’d be wasting your time with Lonnie.”

She lifted her chin and looked him squarely in the eye. “Got any other suggestions?”

She knew that he did, and that was enough. He didn’t have to say a word, he just let his smile broaden slightly before he turned back to his perusal of her cupboards. “So which victim do we visit next?” he asked. “Unfortunately you’re the only cripple around here, but maybe we can find someone who carried emotional scars.”

“Tanner,” she said, her voice low. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

He knew exactly what she was talking about. So much for fooling her with his callous attitude; she’d seen right through to the very real shock and anger he was still trying to suppress. He held himself still for a moment, then turned and moved behind her. She didn’t turn, didn’t meet his gaze, she just waited.

He put his hand on her shoulder, lightly, feeling the tension beneath her skin, feeling the bone and heat and surprising muscle. “Thank you,” he said.

She looked up then, over her shoulder, into his eyes, and her smile was breathtaking. She parted her lips, about to say something, he didn’t know what, but he was leaning toward her, planning to cover her mouth with his and stop whatever words might come tumbling forth, when he heard the footsteps on the wooden porch outside.

He was six feet away from her when Doc Barlow stormed in the kitchen. He stopped short when he spied Tanner in the post-dawn shadows, for a moment his expression slipped, and Tanner saw something he wished he hadn’t.

“What are you doing here?” Doc blurted out. “Jesus, Tanner, you didn’t spend the night here?”

“No, he didn’t spend the night here.” Ellie said with a trace of asperity. “Not that it’s anybody’s business but mine if he did. I would have thought Ginger told you—I lent Tanner my car last night so I wouldn’t be late for bridge.”

“Sorry,” Doc mumbled, still looking slightly dazed. “Sorry,” he said again. “Of course she said something. And you’re right—it’s none of my damned business. I’m being an interfering old fool.” The hearty tone didn’t quite ring true, but Ellie was satisfied, and for the moment that was all that mattered. There was no way Doc was going to fool Tanner—not now.

“I’ll grant you,” Ellie said, “that seven-fifteen is a little early for visitors. Tanner thinks my coffee’s too weak. Pour yourself a cup, Doc, and tell me what’s got you out and about so early?”

“You make great coffee,” Doc said loyally, and Tanner allowed himself an audible snort. “I’m afraid I’m just one step ahead of Dave Martin. He headed out for Tanner’s place, but when he doesn’t find him I expect he’ll be here next.”

Tanner watched with interest as Ellie’s freckled face paled in the dimly lit kitchen. “Who’s Dave Martin?” he asked.

“He’s what passes for the law around here,” Doc said, pouring himself a mug of coffee. “He’s a good, strong boy and does a good enough job for what little crime we get.”

“Good and strong,” Ellie echoed cynically. “Muscles all over, particularly in his brain.”

“Now, Ellie,” Doc admonished her. “The boy’s no intellectual, but he does well enough.”

“Dave Martin’s capabilities are beside the point. Why is he looking for me?” Tanner inquired in a carefully bland voice.

“I guess because you’re the only newcomer in town,” Doc said, squirming a bit.

“But what’s happened?” Ellie demanded. “Why should he be looking for anyone?”

Doc squirmed even more. “You remember Mabel King’s dog?”

“That nasty crossbred Doberman? The one that savaged Maude’s cat? Of course. What’s he got to do with anything?”

“She found him this morning with a bullet in his brain.”

Ellie took a shaky breath. “Well, I’m sure he’s no great loss. Someone must have thought he was running deer or something.”

“One of George Young’s cattle was found the same way,” Doc interrupted her. “And one of the sheep down at the Cutler ranch, and three of Marcy Laverty’s chickens.”

“Oh, my God,” she said, and her eyes were haunted.

Tanner stood straight. “It sounds like Charles Tanner’s son is the likely culprit. Who else would follow in his father’s footsteps? Of course, the fact that I don’t know these people or where they live is of no importance. The fact that I’d have no reason to do such a thing doesn’t matter either. Is Martin coming alone or does he have a lynch mob with him?”

“Now, son, that kind of attitude doesn’t help anybody.”

“I don’t want to help anybody,” Tanner said.

They all heard the sound of the car pulling up in back of the Judge’s house. Ellie rose, moving across the room to the back door with only the faintest trace of a limp. “He’s alone,” she announced.

“Uh, Ellie,” Doc cleared his throat. “Don’t you think you ought to put on something a little more, er…?”

Ellie looked down at her voluminous flannel nightgown and grinned. “If Tanner can control his lustful passions in the face of this erotic lingerie I think a happily married man like Dave Martin can. This is more covering than people usually wear.”

“Yes, but it’s nightclothes,” Doc’s voice trailed off as Martin’s sharp-knuckled rapping broke through.

Ellie opened the door and waved the burly young cop into the room. “Come on in, Dave,” she said affably. “We were expecting you. Tanner, why don’t you pour Dave a cup of coffee? Maybe he’ll appreciate it more than you do.”

Tanner had to admire Ellie. She was acting as if this was an early-morning offshoot of her bridge club, offering refreshments, polite conversation and all the social amenities. If the thick-necked young man with the humorless expression was about to bring out the handcuffs he couldn’t very well do it in the face of Ellie’s determined sociability.

He could try, though. “You Charles Tanner, Jr.?” he demanded gruffly.

Tanner handed him a cup of coffee, smiling sweetly. “I am.”

“Where were you last night?” Tanner knew right then and there he could play it two ways. He could be friendly, helpful, try to make the townspeople accept and understand him. Or he could spit in their eyes.

Dave Martin wouldn’t respond well to friendliness and helpfulness. Neither would most of the people he’d met in Morey’s Falls. Tanner smiled, the smile that never reached his eyes. “Who wants to know?” he said gently.

“Listen, boy, this is a criminal investigation.” Dave Martin’s face was getting redder by the minute.

“And I’m more than happy to help. I can tell you that I wasn’t prowling around Morey’s Falls shooting animals. I don’t have a gun, and if I did it wouldn’t do much good. I don’t know how to use one.”

Martin’s expression was incredulous. “You don’t hunt?”

Tanner shook his head. “I don’t kill anything bigger than flies, Martin.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’m not going to answer your question. A lady’s reputation is involved.”

He heard Ellie’s smothered laughter. He saw Doc’s expression darken for a moment and Dave Martin’s face turn sullen and disbelieving. As if that weren’t enough, Lonnie Olafson chose that moment to wander in from the front hall, and it was Tanner’s turn to frown. Damn it, Ellie had to start locking her doors.

Lonnie looked the same as always, his boyish hair rumpled, his blue-and-white striped oxford shirt rolled up at the elbows, his chinos artfully creased. His running shoes were encrusted with mud—the only change from his usual yuppie perfection.

“Hello, again, Dave,” he said, moving in and helping himself to the coffee. He spilled a bit, scalding himself, as Tanner looked on impassively. “Tanner, Doc, Ellie.” He greeted them in turn.

“What are you doing here, Lonnie?” Ellie’s irritation was obvious.

“Serving the public of Morey’s Falls. This is news,” he said self-righteously.

“My kitchen is news?” Ellie scoffed. “I think I’d like you all to leave. I need to get dressed. When I come downstairs it would be nice if all of you were gone.”

“All of us, Ellie?” Doc questioned in a worried tone of voice.

She gave him a warmer smile than Tanner had ever seen her give another man. Certainly warmer than she’d ever given him. “All of you,” she said gently. “Except Tanner.” And she left the room without a backward glance.

“You better watch yourself, boy,” Dave Martin said. Coming from a man a decade younger than Tanner, it sounded not so much pompous as absurd. “We don’t like your type around here. The sooner you get out of Morey’s Falls, the better for everyone.”

Tanner didn’t have to look around him to know there’d be agreement, reluctant or enthusiastic, on the faces of the other two men. “What’s my type?” he asked.

Dave Martin turned even redder. “Don’t sass me. You better watch your step. And don’t go disappearing on me—I’m not through with you yet.”

Tanner smiled, his best shark’s smile. “Martin, in one breath you tell me to get out of town; in the next you tell me to stay put. Make up your mind.”

There wasn’t much Martin could say in response to such a reasonable statement. With a final threatening glower he stomped out the back door, slamming it behind him.

Doc’s eyes were troubled, filled with something Tanner wished he’d never seen. “We’d better go too, Lonnie. There’s nothing for the papers here, and I’ve got patients coming in another half an hour.”

“I just got here.” Lonnie’s high-pitched voice cracked slightly, as if he hadn’t quite settled into puberty.

“You gonna go against Ellie’s wishes?”

“Of course not.” Lonnie set his cup down on the counter, sloshing more coffee over the sides. He headed for the door, never once looking at Tanner.

Doc followed him, pausing in the open doorway, turning to say something to Tanner, then clearly thought better of it. “For what it’s worth,” he said finally, “I know you didn’t have anything to do with those animals.”

There wasn’t anything else he could say. “Thanks.”

He watched as Lonnie skirted the yard and headed for his car. A BMW, Tanner noticed with a curl of his lip. Doc was driving his pickup, and as he pulled away his face settled in a look of profound trouble.

Tanner turned away. He wasn’t used to having to worry about other people, other than Alfred. But already he cared about Doc, cared about what he was going through.

He moved back for more of Ellie’s weak coffee, then stopped, squatting down. Thick clumps of dirt littered the floor. He’d seen that dirt on Lonnie’s sneakers, but Lonnie hadn’t been near that part of the kitchen. One of the other morning visitors must have brought in the same mud. He picked up a clump, rubbing it between his fingers, and then rose, stretching wearily. He didn’t like the suspicions that were filtering through his mind, and he didn’t like any of the alternatives. Damn, why couldn’t things ever be easy?