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“Of course not,” Norma Rose said, irritated he’d even suggest such behavior. “Ginger was in her bed, asleep, before I left the resort to go and get Uncle Dave last night.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I checked on her, like I do with all three of my sisters every night.” She didn’t add that this was because they weren’t to be trusted. She checked every night to make sure they were alone in their beds. To be fair, Ginger rarely caused problems. Most nights when she’d check on her sisters, Ginger’s nose was stuck in a glossy fashion magazine with her mind on Hollywood. Josie often sat up late planning her next ladies aid meeting. Twyla had always been a handful, but more so lately, since she’d heard that Brock Ness might be moving. Norma Rose wouldn’t be surprised if all her sisters had a crush on that man. In truth she should be glad he’d left.
Working her twisting mind back to the question, Norma Rose further explained her answer. “After I took the phone call from Chief Williams, I checked on all three girls, and then I left to go get Dave.”
“And they were asleep?” Ty asked.
“Ginger was asleep,” she answered. “Josie and Twyla were preparing for bed.”
Ty turned his attention back to the men. Rattling off cabin names and buildings on the property as if he’d lived there all of his life, he issued orders, specifying where they were to search. The men obeyed, and those who’d removed their hats upon entering the room replaced them on their heads as they left, all agreeing they’d find Ginger in no time.
“And be discreet,” Ty said before the door closed.
“Yes, sir,” Walter answered. “No one but us will know.”
Ty nodded, and Norma Rose found herself waiting for an assignment, as well. Yet when he said, “You’ll come with me,” she planted her heels against the floor.
“Why?”
“I need to search Ginger’s room, and will have questions.”
“Be a good girl and don’t argue, Rosie,” her father said despondently. “We have to find your sister.”
She’d never disobeyed him, ever, and wasn’t about to do so now, yet a part of her protested. She didn’t want to leave her father’s side. She’d never seen his hands tremble before. “I know we need to find Ginger, Daddy.”
He glanced up at her, and there was a sudden shift. It was as if they’d reversed roles, as if she was no longer the child and he the parent. The look in his eyes begged her to help him. To help find Ginger. She edged around Ty to give her father a hug. “We will find her, Daddy. I swear we’ll find her.”
“When I discover who’s behind this—” He let her go and pinched his lips together, shaking his head.
Ty took her arm. “Come on.”
She let him lead her out of the office, but couldn’t help a glance back. The image of her father, head bowed and holding one hand against his forehead, burned in her mind as Ty pulled the door closed. Anger surged inside her, and she snapped her heels together. When she found Ginger she’d paddle her sister’s behind for worrying their father so. If by some unfathomable chance, her sister had been taken... She ripped her arm out of Ty’s hold. “If you’re behind this, I’ll see you court-martialed.”
He didn’t so much as glance her way. “You don’t have that kind of power.”
“You don’t know me very well.”
“Well enough,” he said.
Fury burned inside her, and echoed in each clip of her heeled shoes. Without wasting another word on him, she marched forward, all the way to the kitchen, where she found a waiter and sent him out to Dave’s cabin to relieve Gloria so the woman could check on her father. Then, and only then, she directed Ty toward the back staircase, and upward, toward Ginger’s bedroom.
“It’s at the end of the hall,” she said, marching along beside him.
“I know.”
“You seem to know an awful lot, Mr. Bradshaw.”
“It’s my job to know.”
Pivoting on one heel, she snagged his arm, forcing him to stop and look at her. “You seem to have gone to a lot of trouble just to try and extort a few extra tax dollars out of the resort.”
His cock-eyed grin was so arrogant she wanted to slap it right off his face.
“I couldn’t care less about the taxes the resort pays.”
His grin disappeared and he flipped his arm around so fast she barely saw it move, but she flinched at the grip he now held on her wrist.
“I do,” he growled, “care that we find your sister.” Pulling her forward, he added, “Alive.”
“Of course she’s alive,” Norma Rose argued, not wanting to even consider otherwise. “And let go of my arm.”
He let go. Her steps faltered. Whether she wanted to think it or not, the notion of her sister being taken entered her mind.
“Your father doesn’t have hired watchmen for no reason,” Ty was saying as he walked forward. “He knows the kind of men he does business with. Why do you think he keeps such close tabs on you girls?”
“We girls—” she began.
“Can’t leave the property without being followed,” he finished.
She sucked in air, but she had no comeback.
He’d stopped in front of a door—Ginger’s door—and Norma Rose grabbed the knob. Ty was a federal agent all right. No one else could have discovered all he had. But, she concluded as she threw open the door, he wasn’t here to find tax evasion. He must be here to shut down her father.
Over her dead body.
She gulped, thoroughly livid, and demanded, “Where is she?”
Ty didn’t answer, but started roaming the room that had been painted pink for Ginger’s last birthday. Norma Rose swept forward, pushing at both of his shoulders from behind.
“Where is she? What have you done with my sister?”
* * *
Ty spun around and grabbed Norma Rose by the upper arms. “I haven’t done anything with your sister.” He slid his hands down onto her elbows, locking her arms against her sides in order to stop her from taking another swing at him. In all his years of undercover work, he’d never come close to revealing himself, not to gangsters, lawmen, or the occasional dame who’d caught his eye. The panic in Norma Rose’s blue eyes was doing something to him, chiseling away at his willpower. He wouldn’t let that happen. It would take a lot more than a pretty face and a few tears, no matter how real, to break down his barriers.
“I haven’t done anything to your sister,” he repeated, this time quieter, calmer. “I swear. Would I be here, trying to find her, if I had? I’m not stupid, Norma Rose, neither is your father. And neither are you. Bronco watched me go to my cabin last night, and leave it this morning. Before and after then I’ve either been with you or your father.” He eased his hands down to her gloved hands and squeezed her fingers. “Ginger may just be hiding someplace.”
Ty doubted she’d been kidnapped. Bodine wouldn’t want to alienate Nightingale. The gangster would want to gain Roger’s confidence, which is why Ty considered Bodine to be behind Dave’s poisoning. If the plan hadn’t failed, Bodine could have claimed that someone switched the samples in Dave’s suitcase. The only reason it had backfired was because Bodine hadn’t done his research and discovered Dave was highly allergic to alcohol.
“Ginger wouldn’t be hiding some place,” Norma Rose said. “She’d have no need to do that.”
Though she had calmed down, Norma Rose wasn’t any closer to believing that Ty wasn’t behind all that was going on. He pondered that as he let go of her hands to roam the room again. He refused to take her into his confidence, but gaining her trust would give him additional benefits. It was going to be tough. She had a shell as hard as an acorn.
“I need your help,” he said. Knowing that wouldn’t sway her, he added, “Your father needs your help. He depends on you. Greatly.”
She eased a long breath out through barely parted lips. He could see she still struggled, but also that she was giving in.
“Fine.”
“Good,” he said. “Look for clues.”
“Clues? What kind of clues?”
“Anything that looks out of the ordinary.”
Standing in the center of the room, arms folded, she insisted, “There is nothing out of place. Out of the ordinary. I’d have already noticed it.”
He approached her and rubbed her upper arms, noting, but ignoring outwardly, how she half attempted to twist away, while being too stubborn to move at the same time.
“I’m a private investigator, Norma Rose, so believe me when I say things are not always as they appear. Sometimes we get so used to looking at things, we overlook the obvious.” Letting her go, he turned to glance around the room. “Look closer. Is anything missing?”
“No, I—”
He held up a hand. “Humor me.”
Norma Rose huffed, but spun around and started looking closer. He did, too. The bed was made, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t been slept it. Didn’t mean it had been, either. The walls were covered with a sickening pink hue. Roger Nightingale was one smart man. No male over the age of sixteen would even consider stepping foot in this room. The pink paint and white furnishings, including the four-poster bed with a big stuffed Teddy Roosevelt bear sitting on the center of it, clearly said “this is my baby girl’s room.” The bedspread was the same shade of pink as the walls and trimmed with layers of ruffles and lace, just like the curtains.
