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Twelve going on thirty, she had moved in last summer after he’d promised her mother years ago that if anything happened to her, he would take care of the girl. It was a promise he’d been bound and determined to keep—even if he hadn’t been prepared to raise another child this late in life—especially this headstrong almost-teenager. She had turned out to be tougher to rein in than he recalled it had been raising his daughter, Bailey.
“I’m going to...school,” Holly Jo said, giving him her famous “are you dense” look. “You do know I go to school, right?”
“Attitude,” Elaine warned as she came into the room.
Holly Jo sighed. “Tell him that this is the way all of the kids dress nowadays.”
Elaine groaned. “I’m afraid it’s true, though since it’s still December I’d suggest changing the top.” Holden motioned for her to go back up to her room and change. He nodded to Elaine, thankful for her help. Holly Jo listened to Elaine, as well as Cooper and Duffy, more than she did to him.
It was one reason he hoped Cooper would stay on the ranch after he married Tilly Stafford. But he could understand if he wanted to build his own house at some point. So far it was undecided where they would live since Tilly hadn’t yet told her mother about the engagement. Holden feared how that would go. He hated to think of the trouble Charlotte might make for Cooper and Tilly because of her hatred for him.
“I thought you were cooler than this,” the girl called back down the stairs to Elaine before going into her bedroom and slamming the door. She wasn’t in there a minute before her door opened and she yelled, “Don’t forget, Holden, you promised I could redo my room.” With that, she slammed her bedroom door again. The next time it opened, she’d put on a sweater and now came down the stairs, stomping loudly the entire way. Without a word, she grabbed her coat and disappeared through the front door for the walk to the bus stop.
He shook his head as he looked at his housekeeper. “Never a dull moment.”
“No,” Elaine agreed. “But I like having her here,” she said, smiling.
“I do, too,” Holden agreed. “Join me for a cup of coffee?”
Elaine sat down as if she could tell something else was bothering him.
“It’s Treyton,” he said. “I think he might try to go behind my back on more than methane well drilling on the ranch.” She didn’t look surprised. His worry over his children and ward was growing daily. Treyton had always been a difficult child, resentful of his siblings, always afraid he wasn’t getting as much attention or possessions or responsibility as the others. He especially resented Cooper and always had.
Cooper’s return to the ranch after being gone two years seemed to have made Treyton even more resentful. Holden worried how far Treyton would go in his desire not only to take over the ranch, but also to show up Cooper—and his father. His brother Duffy had never been a threat since Holden’s youngest son seemed to have no interest in ever running the ranch.
“I’m sorry, Holden,” Elaine said. “I hate to see you so worried. But Cooper and Tilly will soon be getting married. You have a wedding coming up to think about instead of worrying about Treyton.”
He chuckled. “If there even is a wedding now that Charlotte has returned.”
ALREADYLATEFORWORK, the sheriff started to leave Abigail’s house, but stopped before reaching the door as a thought struck him. He felt woozy, the taste in his mouth making him feel sick to his stomach. He stood for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts in the fog still whirling in his head.
One thought broke through. It wasn’t that he’d drunk too much wine.
He turned back to the kitchen thinking about the chocolate mousse and that chalky taste. He’d eaten it all at Abigail’s urging. She’d said she’d never made it before but had made it special for him, making it impossible to leave a bite.
Stu hated the path his thoughts were now taking, but the lawman in him made him return to the kitchen in hopes of finding his dirty dish in the sink. He recalled her saying she would do the dishes in the morning and ushering him into the living room after he’d helped clean off the table.
But in the kitchen now, he saw with regret that the sink was empty. When he opened the dishwasher, he saw that it had been run. She’d cleaned up everything. There was no proof to go with his growing suspicion. On top of that, it made no sense. Why would she drug him if that was really what he thought she’d done?
His cell phone rang. He fumbled it out of his pocket. “Sheriff Layton.” The moment he answered, he regretted not checking the screen before he picked up. He wasn’t ready to talk to Abigail. He needed a clearer head before he did.
Fortunately, it wasn’t her.
“Those damn vandals hit another of our drilling rigs last night, Sheriff,” Tick Whitaker snapped. Alfred “Tick” Whitaker was a geologist from Texas. Stu had always suspected the man was more invested in the CH4 gas company than he let on.
“Give me the location. I’ll send a deputy out to photograph the damage.”
“The head of the company, Douglas Burton, is flying in this morning. Howie’s gone to pick him up along with several of his security personnel. He wants to meet with you at one this afternoon.”
It didn’t sound like a request, but Stu didn’t feel like arguing. “Fine. You know where my office is.” He disconnected and started for the door when he noticed a calendar on the kitchen wall by a small desk. Abigail had marked the days she was working this week. She was off today. So where had she gone so early?
If she wasn’t at the hospital, where had she gone? Either way, he was going by the lab to get a workup of whatever might be in his bloodstream. He wanted to find out before he met with the gas company executive and his associates—let alone dealt with Abigail Creed.
CJGRIPPEDTHEarms of the wheelchair. He’d hoped that Oakley wouldn’t be a problem, that their mother could keep her in line. He’d watched her, studying her. He could understand her anger. That wasn’t a concern. He was angrier with her than she was with him; that he knew for certain. This was all her fault. Their mother was convinced that Oakley would do whatever she told her to do. Once she talked to the lawyer and agreed that the shooting had been an accident...
But when he’d looked into his sister’s eyes, he’d seen the truth.
Oakley was starting to remember. He could see it in the way she looked at him. How long before she remembered everything? How long before she brought him down, sent him to prison, took from him the one thing he would kill for—the power and money their mother wielded? One day it would be all his.
