I just stared at him. Big and strong, handsome and magnificent…and Rock Wolfe was reduced to a nervous wreck. I couldn’t bear to see him like this. Finally, I reached toward him and took his hand.

“We’ll figure this out,” I said.

Relief visibly swept over him. “Thank God.”

“This doesn’t mean I don’t have questions. A lot of questions.”

“I know. I’m just glad you’re talking.”

“I need to wrap my head around the whole thing. But I love you. I can’t just fall out of love with you.”

“Thank God,” he said again.

“You thought I could?”

“Baby, I didn’t know. This is big. I know how big this is. But I swear to you, I’m not a killer, and I did not off my father.”

“I can see why you think your mother’s involved in framing me. She thinks you’ll do anything to save me.”

“I will.”

“It won’t come to that. Not if we figure out what’s going on first.”

“How? How the hell are my prints on that gun?”

“We know it’s not your gun, though. Whoever stole yours and thought they could frame you didn’t stop to consider that guns are easily identifiable by serial number and registration.”

“So not the brightest bulb.”

“Yeah. But the bigger question is how did your prints get on the gun that killed your father?”

He shook his head. “Fuck if I know.”

“Does anyone you know have the same model gun?” I asked.

“I have no idea. I go shooting alone most of the time. The only time I’m with others is when I hunt, and we use different firearms for that.”

“All right. When did you buy the gun in question?”

“Shit. About six months ago. It’s my newest one.”

Now we were getting somewhere. “Did you shoot the same model before you bought it?”

“Yeah, I always—” He grabbed me and pulled me into a hug. “You’re a genius!”

I pulled away quickly, not quite ready to be close to him yet. I’d be okay, but I needed a little time. “It’s a theory right now. But we’re going to have to figure out exactly where you shot that model before you decided to purchase.”

He tensed a little, blowing air out of his lungs. “There was a gun show in Billings. I was looking at handguns… And then again at a sportsman’s shop.”

“So you fired that same model twice? Two different guns?”

“Yeah. Then I went back and bought the gun at the shop later that week after I got paid.”

“Simple enough, then,” I said. “Someone got hold of one of those guns after you fired it. That’s the murder weapon.”

53

Rock