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I tuck the last of the antiques in the boxes, finishing with a shiny set of silver spoons that look just as good as new now that they’re polished up. I leave them on the counter and go back to the couch.
Picking up my phone, I scroll through my contacts one more time, hoping a new idea hits. Some place we can go or someone I can call.
But the list of names might as well be total strangers. They’re all friends and college roommates I haven’t spoken to in years.
My thumb idly brings up a tab I’d minimized.
I pause when the website I’d been reading earlier pops up.
It’s a link from a clickbait article about Ridge, one from last year. I curl into the corner of the sofa and start reading again, my brows knit together.
A little more snooping can’t hurt, just for a little while.
Then I’ll plot a course out of North Dakota. Maybe we can go farther than Miles City, wind up in Billings or Bozeman, bigger cities with real hotels. Or maybe we’ll get lucky and find somewhere off the beaten path, where Dad can rest for a few days.
For now, I turn back to my screen, and the deeper I get, the more my heart tries to stop mid-beat. The headline almost hurts to read.
Dane Barnet Ghosts Star-Struck Charity Bash! Tragedy Still Haunts America’s Favorite Boy Actor.
According to the article, Ridge’s disappearance from the Hollywood scene happened after his mom’s death several years ago.
Judy Barnet’s demise was labeled a ‘probable suicide’ by investigators. I vaguely remember hearing about it but forgot until now. She’d fallen off a balcony at this luxury ski resort.
The piece goes on to discuss an earlier disappearance from the industry, a time when he’d abruptly left his childhood acting career to join the Army.
That ‘disappearance,’ they attributed to a child actor meltdown.
Yeah. I think I’ve got a nose for crap, and the breakdown they’re implying doesn’t jibe at all with the man I know.
Well, sorta maybe know for all of one action-packed day.
Overall, the article is negative, which irritates me, but also fills me with more questions.
And not just about how little I can believe.
I wonder what really brought Ridge to the desolate hills of North Dakota.
He doesn’t seem like the kinda guy to go into hiding because his mom committed suicide—which is what the article seems to be pressing readers to believe.
Too intrigued to stop now, I continue searching, reading, scowering for everything I can find about Ridge Barnet since the day he was born. I keep an open mind.
We won’t be staying here long, but however lengthy our stay, I’d love to find out more about our mysterious, generous host and what makes him tick.
Everything I’d read last night lingers in the back of my mind come morning.
It’s Dad in the front and center. Another rough night.
Even from my room, I’d heard him coughing so hard he was literally gasping sometimes.
He finally fell into an exhausted slumber after midnight. I pray he’ll stay asleep until I return.
There’s a drugstore in Dallas and that’s where I’m heading. Before I deal with anything else today, I have to throw something at that nasty cough.
I’ll see what the pharmacist suggests. Whatever it takes to make him feel better. It’s my only hope.
I already know I could talk until I’m blue in the face, but Dad won’t see another doctor while we’re stuck here.
“Back at it this soon or just an early riser?”
I’m almost to the truck when I hear a deep, booming voice.
I turn toward the house. Ridge shrugs on his coat as he walks down the front steps.
“No, not exactly,” I answer, knowing he’s referring to the crates in the shed where my old Ford is also parked. “I’m heading into town.”
“What for?” he asks, zipping his leather coat while catching up to me.
“I’m not sure yet.” I reach for the handle on the shed door. “Anything the pharmacist suggests.”
“Shit. Nelson’s doing that bad?”
A deflated sigh hisses out of me. There’s no use in sugarcoating the obvious.
“He had a really rough night. He’s sleeping now, so I need to hurry.”
“I’ll drive you. We’ll get there and back faster with my ride. I’ll go tell Tobin to keep an eye on Nelson until we get back.”
“No, that’s sweet, but not necessary,” I say. “But if you could check on Dad…that’d be good.”
He folds his arms and rakes a look up my body. All sinful, demanding blue-eyed beast-man today, apparently.
“Driving you is necessary,” he says, already turning back to the house. “The roads are less than pristine around here until they’ve had a few good passes. Yesterday was just the start of the cleanup. Last thing you want to do is risk getting stuck while you’re on a medicine run.”
I hate how he’s right.
The thought occurred to me, but now I don’t have a choice. Dad needs some relief and I have to find it.
