Page 50 of Rancher to the Rescue

“She’s every four hours with a bottle of formula,” Adam said to his mother. “These guys should be okay for a while. They’ve already been fed and let out.”

“Got it,” his mother said. Living on a ranch for the past forty years or so, she must know a thing or two about keeping animals.

Prudence couldn’t imagine leaving Angel and the dogs in better hands.

“I dug out some old nightgowns from when you and your brothers were babies,” his mother said proudly. She motioned toward the overflowing handbag hooked onto the back of a dining chair. “Don’t worry. No one saw a thing.”

She winked. Could this woman be any more endearing?

Prudence could easily see where Adam got his charm from. Based on everything he’d said so far, it couldn’t have been his father.

“We’d better head out,” Adam said. “Thank you for coming by and doing this. It means a lot.”

“It’s nothing,” she shooed him away like he was a bothersome fly.

Prudence couldn’t help but think she would miss this place when the investigation closed. And she had a feeling the end was closer than she wanted it to be.

She said her goodbyes and then reclaimed her spot on the passenger side as Adam took the driver’s side. He started the engine and looked over at her like he had something important to say. He must’ve thought better of it because he shook his head and put the gearshift in reverse.

“In all the excitement this morning, I totally forgot my morning caffeine,” she said when they were finally on the road.

“We have time to stop off,” he said. “I could use a cup.”

“Yes, please.” She folded her arms. It had only been three days, and yet not having a baby to hold made her confused as to what she should do with her arms.

She moved her hands, placing them palms down on her thighs.

If this was what she was like after three days, she couldn’t imagine how difficult separation would be after a year or two. Forget even longer.

Adam pulled off the highway and into a popular coffee chain’s drive-through. Less than five minutes later, she had a steaming latte in hand. Regular coffee did the trick most days, but this was amazing.

She realized she was distracting herself thinking about the baby and coffee, rather than overthink what they might be walking into. “What do you know about Libby’s parents?”

Adam rubbed the day-old scruff on his chin. He took a sip of coffee and then shrugged.

“Not much,” he admitted. “Nothing from Libby. Any time I brought the subject up, she maneuvered out of answering. Last night when I couldn’t sleep, I searched their names on the laptop. They seem respectable.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” she countered. She’d learned that lesson the hard way after going out with Chet. He’d shown up fifteen minutes early to their date. Spoke to her uncle with the utmost respect. The guy even brought flowers. He was polite to teachers, which was part of the reason she agreed to go out with him in the first place. Rather than take her straight to the movies, like he’d said, he’d pit stopped at the lake. She spent the next ten minutes fighting him off before delivering a punch that broke his nose and bloodied her new shirt. She managed to climb out the passenger’s side. The car beside them took pity on her and opened the door. They were seniors, two years ahead of her and Chet. He’d sent threatening texts telling her to keep quiet about what had happened. He’d told her no one would believe her anyway.

She’d been too mortified to speak up. Until Amy Dunbar did. Four others came forward after Prudence. Her only regret was that she’d waited.

Adam didn’t speak. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. He clenched his back teeth together, making his jaw muscle tick.

She held onto the cup with both hands to stop herself from reaching out to him. It would be a mistake to be his comfort, no matter how much she wanted to be.

By the time she finished her latte, Adam was pulling into the parking lot at the sheriff’s office.

The two-story building was nondescript, brown bricks with tall, thin windows.

Adam drained his coffee before issuing a sharp sigh. He stared at the bottom of the cup.

“Here goes nothing,” he said, opening his door. His words might have been meant to be breezy but they were anything but. Angel’s grandparents would soon follow. They had rights.

The right to take her away?

17

The witness room, as Lawler had called it, wasn’t much more than the size of a broom closet. It had the same long length and short width. If Adam turned sideways and extended his arms, he’d be touching wall-to-window.