A faint flush colored her face and when she raised her cigarette to her mouth her hand trembled slightly. She held his gaze a beat longer and then dropped it. “Just leave me alone.”

“Don’t think this is finished, Ms. Bell. I’ll do whatever I have to do to solve this case.”

She stubbed out her cigarette into a crystal ashtray. “Be careful of Greer, Ranger Bragg. She’ll get into your head. Like she wormed in Rory’s. Like she got into Sara’s and mine. And once she sinks her claws into you and you think you can trust her, you’re done.”

Bragg glared at Jennifer, surprised her words hit the mark. Greer had gotten into his head.

Michael stared at the letter from his attorney, anger boiling so hot in him that he thought his head would explode. He’d reread the letter several times and each time the outcome was as grim as the last. He was being sued. For money they said he’d stolen.

Crushing the paper in his hands, he rose and moved to a simple wooden kitchen table where a half-empty bottle of scotch stood. He grabbed a chipped mug from a rustic kitchen cabinet and filled it to the brim with scotch. It might be morning but he didn’t care. Maybe getting piss drunk would dull the outrage thumping in his chest.

He took a long, even drink. The liquid slid down his throat, burning a little as it passed. Moving to the window, he stared out into the rolling hills. He’d not been to the family cabin in a decade and the place had fallen into disrepair since his father’s illness. In truth, he really didn’t like the place. But it was his only sanctuary now.

Turning, he picked the balled letter off the floor and read it again.

Dear Mr. Sycamore: This letter is to inform you that Jay & Brighten Accounting firm will be filing suit against you in one week if the two million dollars in question are not returned. Though your termination cannot be revoked, restoration of funds will avoid the suit and legal action.

He’d worked for that company for eight years. He’d brought in more business than many of the partners. He was a goddamned rising star. And because some asshole couldn’t add numbers, he was being accused of theft.

He hadn’t stolen a dime. Not a red cent. And he’d fight these charges as long as he had breath in his body.

Pressing the cup to his throbbing temple he closed his eyes. He’d been fired. Was being sued. And his fi-ancée had returned the ring. Even his old man wasn’t speaking to him.

Fuck.

Life was crushing him to death.

He couldn’t go on like this.

But he would. He would find a way.

Bragg left Jennifer’s annoyed. He wasn’t sure if he was irritated because she’d been difficult or her warning about Greer had struck a nerve. Like it or not, Greer had struck a nerve. Not good.

As he pushed through the doors of Ranger headquarters and made his way to his office, he put a call in to Winchester. The call landed in voice mail, so he left a message requesting he find Michael Sycamore. As he gave what details he had on the man, he tossed his hat aside and then ended the call. He shrugged off his coat before sitting behind his desk and opening Greer’s accident file Deputy Eric Howell had given him.

Bragg opened the file and studied the photos of the mangled car. He cringed and wondered how Greer could have survived the accident.

This accident didn’t relate to the cases on his desk. It was over a dozen years old. And yet it had been the catalyst for the events that drove Greer to Shady Grove and for someone to kill two people in Greer’s pod.

David Edwards had been clear he didn’t like Greer’s association with his brother. But it was Sydney Dowd’s brother, Rick, who’d confronted her. Rude and pushy didn’t necessarily make him a killer, but he was the lone person now linking the present to the past. And the man had hassled Greer, which in his book was reason enough to pay the man a visit.

It didn’t take much checking to discover Dowd now worked as a vet and ran a large animal clinic ten miles outside of Austin. Dowd’s practice was successful and enjoyed a solid reputation. His clinic cared for many of the area’s most elite thoroughbreds.

Bragg drove west until concrete transformed to rolling green hills. He followed directions through a couple of small towns until he found the white building and barn at the edge of town.

The freshly painted building had a bright bold welcoming sign. He parked in the small gravel parking lot and moved down the sidewalk to the main door. Inside he found a receptionist, a young girl about fifteen years old. Dark hair swept up into a thick ponytail accentuated wide brown eyes and high cheekbones.

She grinned up at him. “How may I help you?”

He softened his expression, which on a good day could pass for a scowl. “I’m looking for Dr. Dowd.”

Bright eyes flickered with recognition. “That’s my dad. You have an animal that needs tending?”

“No, ma’am. I’m with the Rangers and have a couple of questions.”

“Is it a question I might be able to answer? I’ve been working here since May.”

“I appreciate the offer, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his hat. “But your dad is the fellow I need to see.”

“Dad’s in the barn out back. He’s the only one out there now so he won’t be hard to find. I’d go with you but I’m answering phones now.” On cue, the phone rang.

“I should be able to find it if you point me to the right path.”

“Sure.” The young girl directed him to a barn where he’d find Dowd in a back stall examining a black gelding. She then picked up the phone. “Dowd Animal Clinic.”

As Bragg left the clinic and walked toward the barn, he thought about Greer’s caller last night. A woman. Sounded young. Could Dowd have put his daughter up to the call?

Frowning, he found Rick Dowd in the barn exactly where his daughter had described. The vet had light hair that brushed the top of his collar and his skin was fair, leaving Bragg to assume the little girl up front favored her mother. Dowd wore dark glasses and a jean jacket smeared with mud.

Waiting until the vet stepped away from the animal, Bragg said, “Dr. Dowd?”

Dowd grabbed a rag from his back pocket and wiped his hands. His expression was mild, his smile genuine when he met Bragg’s gaze. “Yes, sir. What can I do for you?”

Bragg waited until the man had exited the stall and closed the gate behind him. “Name’s Ranger Tec Bragg. I’m with the Texas Rangers.”

Dowd nodded as he wiped his hand on a rag. “I saw the star right away. What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to ask you questions about Elizabeth Greer Templeton.”

The doctor’s expression hardened. “Did she send you to talk to me? Be like her to stir up trouble.”

Whatever goodwill Bragg had mustered vanished. His gaze sharpened. His stance tensed. “She mentioned you’d had words at the feed store the other day. I thought I’d ask you about it.”

Shaking his head, he shoved the rag back in his pocket. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything to her. Christ, it’s been twelve years. But seeing her took me by surprise. I guess because she looked so good. Pretty and happy. Suddenly it didn’t seem right she’d be moving around, laughing and smiling, and my sister was dead and buried in the ground for more than a dozen years.”

“I’ve read a good bit about the accident. According to the medical examiner your sister had well over the legal limit of alcohol in her system.”

Dowd shook his head. “She might have had a beer or two at the party, but the fact remains she did not get behind the wheel of the car.”

“She’d been drunk enough to let a fifteen-year-old drive.”

His face crumbled with the kind of blame rising from too many nights of second-guessing and what ifs. “I told her not to drink that night.”