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Prologue

Mornings were quiet in Lily, Arizona

A pity, Sloan Trent thought, walking up the two steps to the raised sidewalk of the town’sout, because these suht’s chill, while the days were often blazing

Not surprisingly, the street was called Main Street Sometimes, when the wind picked up, tu with little clouds of dust The tourists loved it--except on the few rainy days that turned the dirt road into a mud slide, which clearly explained the raised wooden sidewalks of the 1880s

The entire toas built of wood; only a few of the neellings on the outskirts were brick or concrete When Lily was built, lu was made of wood Even the jail

It was probably a round But, sht be, the toas a survivor Just na it Lily had been a piece of optimisold way back in the 1850s, he’d narandmother--not because she’d been beautiful or sweet, but because the Irishworeatest tenacity he’d ever known, according to his memoir

And Lily, Arizona, was a town that had held on tenaciously through good and bad, fair times and foul

Sloan looked down the broad dusty road that had been preserved Lily had alhost town, in the truly deserted sense; at one time, in the early 1900s, only three places of business had remained open, and since one had been the sheriff’s office and jail, there’d really just been twoon by a thread Those two had been the Paris Saloon and the theater, the Gilded Lily Of course, staying afloat at that time in this dry Western town off the beaten track, on the road between Tucson and Tole, and the Gilded Lily had offered pretty tawdry entertainuise of theater Clearly, the place had been successful

And because ht outlaws enjoyed the services of the main saloon across the street and the bar in the theater, the jail did a boo business, as well

Today, there weren’t many shoot-outs There weren’t even e to be sheriff back here after being with the Houston, Texas, police force And strange to be head of a six- one woman--force when he’d previously worked with hundreds of fellow officers

But he’d corandfather when they’d first found out about his illness, and then stayed with him, tended to him, while the cancer slowly killed hiain

Ah, yes, here he was in Lily, Arizona, taking care of not-so-major crime!

And that, he reminded hihway and come into the tourist end of town There was another report fro operated as a restaurant and bed-and-breakfast, known, naturally, as the Old Jail It was featured on all the "haunted" shows that continually played on cable stations Another "theft" had occurred

The nineteenth-century office and jail sat next to the Gilded Lily, while the Paris Saloon and the old stables were across the street While it was small in comparison to major tourist destinations like To of a comeback The other side of the saloon, in an old barbershop, had become a state-of-the-art salon and spa, and next to it, in the old general store, was a place called Desert Diamonds--a souvenir shop that also boasted a pizza parlor, ice cream and a barista stand It was also a small museum Grant Winston, proprietor, had been around since practically the Dark Ages and he displayed his old newspapers and artifacts in a special cli as a tourist destination The old stables offered horseback riding, day tours and haunted night tours They’d even arranged a few Styrofoahten the pleasure

Shaking his head at the marvels of modern commerce, Sloan paused for a e clu down the road before hi was about to change--that dark forces were co at his ridiculous feeling that the sudden chill in the air and the sweep of sagebrush could be a forewarning of some kind of evil

He opened the door of the bed-and-breakfast The old sheriff’s desk was now the check-in counter, and the deputy’s desk held a sign that read Concierge

Because, of course, in Lily, Arizona, you needed a concierge

But the concierge did double duty, working thecoffee and continental breakfast station that was laid out in the old gun rooun room turned into a restaurant The food wasn’t bad and there was often a need for reservations, since the room held only six tables

"Sheriff, thank God you’re here!"

Mike Addison, owner and er of the Old Jail, was at the sheriff’s desk He stood quickly when Sloan walked in

"I caht over, Mike," he said "What is it this time?"

"The couple in Room One! You know, Hardy’s cell," Mike said draht!"

"What happened?"

"They woke up this --and their wallets had been stolen I wouldn’t believe it myself, Sloan, if they weren’t such fine people and if they weren’t so honestly upset The husband says they were over at the Gilded Lily, they saw the show, had one nightcap and cauests have keys to the front and the cells I swear, I can’t figure out how sootten into their room!"

Mike was in his thirties, tall, lean and earnest He’d co been a lover of all the Old Westup, thanks to cable channels He’d bought the jail from old "Coot" Stevens, who’d first turned it into a B and B Mike had worked hard to maintain its historic aspects and make it a nice place to stay While the rooms were extremely small--they’d started out as cells, after all--they featured beds with luxuriousand tales of the outlaho’d lived and died in the area, so on Main Street

"Where are they?" Sloan asked

"The breakfast roo coffee, they were so upset Jerry and Lucinda Broling"