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“Why’d you bring me here?” she asked as the waitress slid their drinks onto the table.
“It was your idea, remember.”
“But out here—in the middle of nowhere?”
“You’d rather go to some restaurant downtown?”
“Not really.” She took a sip from her beer.
“Thought you wanted to know the real me.” His eyes glinted sensually. “Now you do.”
“I don’t think so. I think you’re hiding something, Zach. Trying to scare me off.” She stared him down. “It won’t work.” Leaning back against the tufted plastic upholstery, she said, “You were raised in Portland.”
“I try to forget about that.”
“Why?”
He hesitated and gazed at a point over her shoulder where, she suspected, he saw his own youth. “I was always in trouble. Gave the old man nothing but grief.”
“And you’re still cultivating that bad-ass attitude, aren’t you?”
He relaxed against the back of the booth and took a long drink from his glass. “Maybe.”
“No maybes about it.”
Lifting a shoulder, he said, “So what’ve you found out about my illustrious family?”
“Not enough.”
He pinned her with a look and she thought twice about answering. Finally, as the meals were delivered, she said, “Okay. The library was pretty much a bust. Sure, the microfilm from the newspapers had information on the kidnapping and on the family, but there wasn’t much…much substance to it all.”
“So you came up empty.”
“Almost. But I’m not done digging.” She started in on her salad and Zach muttered something about mule-headed women under his breath. She let the comment slide.
“Where are you going to look next?”
She smiled and took a sip from her glass, her eyes meeting his over the rim. “Lots of places. I’m going to talk to reporters and the police. Believe me, I’ve only just begun.”
“You’re going to wind up empty-handed.”
“Is that right? Why?”
“You’ve got one helluva hole in your father’s story. It’s about as big as all of Montana.”
“I’m all ears,” she invited, anxious to hear what he thought. Somehow it was important, as if his opinion would help.
He picked up half of his sandwich. “If everything you say is true—why did Ginny Slade take London in the first place?”
“Who knows?”
“No one, I guess,” he said thoughtfully. “But it wasn’t because she wanted a child or she wouldn’t have left you with the Nashes.”
“I know, but—”
“And it wasn’t for the money because she left some cash in her bank accounts in Portland and never demanded ransom.”
“Maybe she was paid off.”
