Daniels B.J. - Odd Man Out стр 2.

You cant be serious.

The rain fell harder, dimpling the spring snows rough surface. He stared at her with a puzzled frown, and realized she was serious. Why would I do that?

I know things about Pete She looked away. You just have to keep him away from Denver.

Youre asking the impossible. Hed been gone for nine years and he hadnt left on the best of terms.

Maggie pulled her jacket around her. Denver knows Ive never liked Pete. She wont listen to me.

J.D. watched Denver lean into Pete Williamss embrace as the two stood alone beside the grave. Denny wont he stumbled on the childhood name hed always called her. Denver wouldnt appreciate any interference in her life from me.

Oh, J.D., you know how shes always felt about you.

She had a crush on me when she was sixteen, Maggie! Believe me, it didnt last. He remembered only too well how angry Denver had been that afternoon at Horse Butte Fire Tower when hed told her he was leaving town. And how hurt. Shed been like a kid sister to him. Hed never forgiven himself for hurting her.

If anyone can handle her, its you, Maggie argued.

Im not sure theres a man alive who can handle Denver McCallahan. The umbrellas suddenly dispersed like tiny dark seeds across the snow. The rain turned to snow as the mourners headed for their cars.

Just promise me youll do everything you can to keep Pete away from her, Maggie said. If you dont She turned to leave.

Wait, what are you saying? J.D. demanded. Surely she didnt believe Denver had anything to fear from Pete. Give me a reason, Maggie. A damned good reason.

To his surprise, her eyes filled not with their usual resolve but with tears. That anger hed glimpsed earlier mixed with pain and burned red-hot. Pete Williams killed Max.

Chapter One

Youre Denver McCallahan, right? A woman in her fifties in a long purple coat and a floppy red wool hat stepped in front of her; the woman didnt wait for an answer. Im Sheila Walker with the Billings Register. She flipped open her notebook, her pen ready. I need to ask you some questions.

Pete put his arm around Denvers shoulders. Ms. McCallahan just buried her uncle. Now is not the time. He tried to pass, but the reporter blocked his way, ignoring him as she turned her full attention on Denver.

This has to be the second worst day of your life. First your parents, now your uncle. From a web of wrinkles, she searched Denvers face with dark, eager eyes. You think theres a connection?

Denver stared at the woman. Her bright red lipstick was smeared and her hat drooped off one side of her head, exposing a head of wiry black-and-gray curls. A scent of perfume Denver couldnt place hung over her like a black cloud. My parents were killed more than twenty years ago. The murders connected? Was the woman crazy? Pain pressed against her chest; she fought for breath. Pete pulled Denver closer and pushed on past the woman.

Who do you think killed your uncle? the reporter asked, trotting alongside Denver. Do you think it was that hitchhiker theyre looking for?

Please, I cant Denver fought the ever-present tears.

Leave her alone, Pete interrupted in a menacing tone. Theyd reached his black Chevy pickup. He opened the door for Denver and spun on the woman. Back off, lady, or youll wish you had. Climbing in beside Denver, he slammed the door in the reporters face.

She tapped on the window. The rumors about your uncle, is there any truth in them?

Pete started the pickup and peeled away, leaving Sheila Walker in a cloud of flying ice and snow.

* * *

YOU DONT BELIEVE IT.

J.D. watched Pete leave with Denver in a fancy black Chevy pickup, then turned his attention back to Maggie. That Pete murdered Max? No, I dont believe it. He and Pete had been friends and as close to Denver and Max as family. Through the falling snow, he could see workers pushing cold earth over Maxs casket with a finality that made his heart ache.

I dont want to believe it, either, Maggie said. Max loved Pete. He loved you both like the brother he lost.

Then how can you suspect Pete of murder?

She took a long, ragged breath. The morning after Maxs murder, Denver and Pete came over. Id made coffee and sent them into the kitchen. You remember the photograph Max took of you, Pete and Denver at the lake on her

sixteenth birthday?

J.D. nodded; it had been right before hed left town. He could still see Denver in the dress Max had bought her. A pale aquamarine. The same color as her eyes. You gave me a copy of the photo. He still had it. It reminded him of those days at the lake with Denny and Pete. Sunlight and laughter. A long-lost happiness twisted at his insides.

It was Maxs favorite photograph. He always carried it in his wallet, Maggie said. I saw it the day before he died. It was dog-eared and faded and I wanted to put it away for safekeeping, but Max wouldnt hear of it. She stopped; he watched her fight the painful memories. When I went to hang up Petes coat, I saw a piece of the photograph sticking out of his pocket.

Didnt Pete have a copy, too?

She nodded. But Id written on the back of the one I gave Max. I could still make out the writing. It was the photo from his wallet. Only...it had been torn. She met his gaze. Someone had ripped you out of the picture.