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the coffee table and rolled some of the stiffness out of his injured shoulder. Even though he sat inches from Riley, they might have been miles apart. He and Riley had been so in sync the night before, but the cold light of reality had a way of usurping passion. His part in the deaths of her parents had been hurdle enough, but now, instead of having two bodies between them, there were four.
    His pity party came to an unexpected end when she reached for his hand and laced her fingers through his. “Interesting place,” she murmured.
    He turned his head to look at her. “Yeah, ol’ Maverick is just full of surprises. Let’s just hope he’s about out of them for the day, because he’s about to brief us.”
    “Nope, gotta admit you’ve stumped me on this one, Gage.” Maverick walked past them and dropped in a chair. “I just put a frozen pizza in the oven. Meanwhile, we’ve got some catching up to do. Your guy Colt Beckett—Riley’s brother—is laid up in an extended care rehab facility. He’s been there for about nine months following a three-month stint in the hospital. I’m not sure what you expected me to dig up on him, but it wasn’t much. He’s paralyzed from the neck down and not responding to therapy.”
    Riley’s hand tightened, but her expression gave nothing away.
    “As for how that fits with the rest of this, you’re going to have to help me out. The bullets they found with Billy are purported to belong to Riley’s gun—based on the rare caliber, I’m told, but they expect ballistics to be an easy match.”
    Gage sat up straight. “They found the gun?”
    Maverick shook his head. “Nope. They’ve got bullets on display at the Town Hall. Some heritage thing.”
    Riley nodded. “I’d forgotten about that. The rifle is rare and has some significance in the town’s history. As far as anyone knows, my dad had the only one around. There is a whole display there—photographs, bullets, news clippings…it’s a big deal.”
    Maverick pushed his fingers through his hair, rousing the strands to renewed attention. “That makes a little more sense. And after your father died, the gun was yours?”
    Riley’s hand curled tighter. “I inherited it, yes.”
    Gage cleared his throat. “When I, uh, brought the situation to her attention, we found it missing from the safe. Whoever took it had the combination.”
    Maverick frowned. “Did you report it?”
    “We might have mentioned it to Sheriff Burke had he not been shot dead on the doorstep,” Gage said.
    Maverick’s expression took a turn toward that sorry-I-asked appearance he so often wore around Gage. “Is this the part where you ran?”
    “No, this is the part where I had a close encounter with a bullet. Then we ran.”
    Maverick pinched the bridge of his nose and then drew his hand over his jaw. “Well, if it’s the same gun, they’ll know it pretty fast. All they need to do is compare the bullets from the bodies to the ones on display. Proving who pulled the trigger is another story. It probably won’t surprise you to know my source with Barefoot law enforcement is a bit hard to get in touch with in light of the sheriff’s death. Everyone is riding a mean streak of paranoia, but I can’t say I blame them. I can tell you, Riley, they’re looking for you. And Gage, if you decorated the crime scene with any fingerprints, you’ll make that list as well.”
    Gage went limp against the sofa cushion. Of course he had. He’d touched the safe , in fact, and knew it wouldn’t be a stretch for someone to claim he’d been the one to “borrow” the gun.
    Maverick drew to his feet. “If I’m to judge anything from your expression, I’d have to say you’re screwed. Am I close?” Without waiting for an answer, he headed for the kitchen. The oven squeaked open and slammed shut, sending the smell of pizza wafting across the room. “The one thing I’m not quite following,” he called, “is what Colt Beckett has to do with this. He