by Dana Mentink
Barrett grabbed her arms.
“He shouldn’t drive,” Tracy whispered to Keegan. “He’s too scared. It’s not safe. You have to.”
In fact, Keegan had never seen his big brother look more unnerved. The guy had faced down a killer who’d threatened Shelby in the past, and broken wild horses without working up a sweat, but now he could hardly get a sentence together. Keegan’s own stomach was tumbling.
“We should... I mean...are you...?” Barrett stammered as he picked Shelby up and put her into the truck.
Another groan from Shelby had Barrett almost hollering at his brother. “Come on. We gotta get to the hospital right now.”
Keegan took Tracy by the shoulders. “I’ll tell my brothers. Stay where it’s safe. Promise.”
“I promise,” she said. “Now go.”
He ran to the driver’s door, praying that Shelby would deliver the baby without complications, but preferably not in the front seat of a truck with two petrified cowboys. As he caught a glimpse of Tracy in the rearview mirror, his mind called out to her.
Keep your promise. Stay safe.
TWENTY-ONE
Tracy hunkered down in the stands, keeping well under the public radar. She’d brought an old baseball cap of her grandfather’s, which she’d crammed over her hair as she took in the auction from under the brim. As far as she could tell, it was a huge success. The horses were mostly of excellent quality, the bidders in a generous mood and the transitions as smooth and seamless as they could be.
By the time the crowd broke for intermission, three of the six Thorn horses had sold for a fair price. As the people around her began to filter outside, Tracy let herself be swept along, rather than stay behind in an empty arena. The tower of hay bales she passed on her way out was only half as high as the pile that almost crushed them before, but it still gave her the chills as she moved quickly by.
Now that she’d been proved a nutcase publicly since Nan’s body had disappeared, she didn’t think the killer would pursue her any further, but he or she might want to hammer in the last nail, since it was possible she might get her memory back.
Outside, the bystanders queued up for coffee, hamburgers and hot dogs, sizzling hot off the grill. She was gradually pushed back toward the office, but she felt no alarm. A uniformed Copper Creek officer stood just outside the office, nodding and smiling.
She realized in that moment that the next time she returned to the horse center, if her business ever took her there, the place would be stripped of Christmas decor. The lights, ornaments and trees would all have vanished. This was the last chance she’d have to see things as they were, to take one last stab at jogging her memory. She owed it to Nan to at least try.
She peeked through the office windows, frosted with stenciled icicles. Plenty of people swarmed about inside, families taking pictures in front of the tree, a receptionist she didn’t know chatting with cowboy types turning in their auction information and checking in for the events on the following days. Her body felt leaden, reluctant to take her into the place where her darkest fears had been awakened, but how could she live the rest of her life with a gaping void where her memory of that night should be?
“There won’t be any danger if I stay where the people are,” she muttered to herself. Though she wished Keegan were with her, his position front and center in her heart frightened her.
A week ago you could take care of yourself. Nothing’s changed.
She ignored the thought that sprang to mind. Everything’s changed. But one thing must not—she could not rely on a gorgeous blue-eyed cowboy to take care of her. If she was going to get her life back, she had to start somewhere.
Pulling open the door, she marched inside. The warmth enveloped her, scented by a crock full of apple cider that the guests helped themselves to. Bryce Larraby had thought of everything. Bryce’s wife stood holding a cup of cider in manicured fingers. She exuded class and style, Tracy thought as she chatted with a man and his wife.
“Teens aren’t cheap,” Marie said. “Danny and Clark used to want Legos, and now they ask for the latest iPhones. It was motorcycles last year.”
Motorcycles. Her mind went immediately to the motorcycle that had sneaked onto their property. How easy would it have been for Bryce to borrow his son’s vehicle?
She shook away the thoughts. She was being paranoid. Plenty of people had access to motorcycles.
“Expensive,” the man across from her agreed.
Marie laughed. “Good thing the horse show’s a success. We’re looking at Ivy League colleges for the boys pretty soon.”
Hmm. Bryce Larraby had a very good motive to cover up anything that would threaten the show’s profitability. Was he capable of murder? It depended on the stakes, she decided. And considering the well-dressed Marie and her college-bound sons, the stakes were pretty high for the mayor.
Tracy excused herself and walked to the other side of the lobby where the Christmas tree sparkled. Leaning against the wall, she closed her eyes, picturing again that horrible night. Nan—she was sure it had been Nan—staring at her with pleading eyes that slowly dimmed in her attacker’s choke hold.
Tracy remembered the terror in her stomach as she’d run away in blind panic, knocking against the tree, finding the only unlocked door...
Her eyes popped open. The storage room. The memory blossomed in her mind. She’d slammed inside, put a chair under the door handle and climbed out the window. Heart thumping, she recalled a hand grasping her ankle.
Focus on that hand, she told herself. Had they been a woman’s fingers? A man’s? Was there anything that could help her identify the attacker? A watch? A bracelet?
Nothing. The figure in her memory remained cloaked in darkness.
Swallowing hard, she eased toward the storage room. Still plenty of people around, she told herself, and you’re not going in. The tile squeaked under her feet as she drew close. Startled, she realized the storage room door was ajar.
Fighting paralysis, she poked it with her toe and it swung open a few inches. “Hello?”
The two people inside did not notice her.
Bryce was inches away from Regina. Her face was stricken with a combination of emotions. Rage? Betrayal? Fear?
“I can’t believe it,” she whispered. “I thought... I mean... I never would have believed...” She held a photo crammed in her clenched fist.
Bryce took her around the shoulders. “Listen to me, Regina.”
“No,” she said, wrenching away. “I’ll never listen to you again.”
She caught sight of Tracy in the doorway, sucked in a breath and slammed past Tracy, knocking her back a step.
Bryce started after her but stopped, his body between Tracy and the lobby. She noticed finally how dark the hallway was, how quiet and removed from the festivities.
You’re okay, she breathed, edging toward the wall. All you have to do is scream. She started to dart past when Bryce grabbed her wrist, his grip crushing.
The whites of his eyes were eerie in the gloom. The same eyes she’d seen strangling Nan?
“Whatever you’re imagining, that wasn’t what you think, and I don’t want any more trouble out of you,” he snarled.
“Let me go. You’re hurting me.”
“Not until you agree to get out of here and stay out.”
“Get your hands off her.”
Tracy heaved out a slow breath as Keegan came up next to her and shoved Bryce back.
“This doesn’t concern you, Keegan.”
“You put your hands on her. That concerns me.” Keegan’s eyes were cold as stones. Flat. Hard. “What are you so eager to hide?”
“Nothing.” His jaw worked as he strove for control. “It’s a private matter with Regina.”
Mitch strode up. “What’s going on? Regina just lit out of here like a spooked calf.”
Bryce
held up a palm. “Nothing. It was nothing.”
Keegan looked to Tracy, waiting.
“I remembered...being in the storage room. I noticed it was open. Regina and Bryce were in there.”
“So you decided to eavesdrop?” Bryce snapped.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping. Regina’s voice was pretty loud.”
“What did she say?” Mitch asked.
Bryce tried again to wave him off, but Tracy repeated what she had heard.
“What’s that mean?” Mitch asked Bryce.
Bryce smoothed his shirt. “Like I said, it’s a private matter.”
The cop approached, elbowing his way past Mitch and another cowboy who had joined the group, the bearded one from the café, Tracy remembered with a hint of unease.
“Folks?” the cop asked. “Everything under control?”
Bryce smiled. “Yes. Thank you for checking. Everything is fine. No need for your help, Officer.”
The officer did not take the hint. Instead he smiled affably and stayed put until Mitch turned on his heel and left, the bearded man following.
“Mr. Thorn?” the cop said. “May I suggest you and Miss Wilson step outside? Get a breath of fresh air?”
Tracy tugged on Keegan’s sleeve, fearful of the ire kindling in him. “Come on. Let’s go. Tell me about Shelby.”
Keegan took a step toward Bryce. “I know you’re hiding something and I’m going to find out what it is.”
“You’re going to find nothing,” Bryce snapped. “No matter how much you harass and cause trouble, you’ll never get what you want from me.”
Keegan tensed, and it took all Tracy’s strength and a slight movement from the cop to force Keegan away.
When they made it outside, the crowd had thinned and she sucked in a deep breath, knees shaking. Heat radiated out of Keegan, the muscles in his clenched jaw jumping.
“I’m calling John,” Keegan said once they were in his truck. “I’ll ask him to meet us at your property. He’s going to listen this time, and he’s going to take this investigation seriously.”
She did not think what she’d overheard would change John’s mind, but Keegan wasn’t in a mood to be tangled with, so she left him to his phone call. Seated in the passenger seat, she tried to rub the feeling of Bryce’s grip off her wrist. A movement from the side of the building caught her eye.
Tracy saw Regina shove at Mitch with such force he staggered back against the wall as she strode away.
Regina was strong.
And she was a woman who felt she had been wronged.
Had Nan’s murderer been a man?
Or Regina Parker?
* * *
Keegan forced his mind away from what had just happened to answer Tracy’s questions.
“We got Shelby there safely. They put her into a room, and my parents are on their way.”
“Barrett?”
“Pacing like a caged lion until Shelby told him to sit down.”
She blew out a breath.
He let the fear flow into words as they began the drive to her property. “Tracy, you started to remember the details.”
She blinked at him. “Not much. Not the faces.”
“But enough that Bryce knows, Mitch, maybe Regina, some other people who were around. Really, anybody in the office.”
Slowly the understanding dawned and her brow puckered. “You think the killer is coming back after me.”
“Yes, and I know my father has something to do with it.”
“He said it was a private matter, whatever he and Regina were arguing about.”
The granite slab of anger slammed down inside him again. “He also said I’d never get what I wanted from him, but he’s wrong.”
She brushed his hand with her finger, sending tingles shooting through his nerves. “Keegan—”
He wouldn’t let her finish. Instead he gunned the engine and headed back to the foothills. It was a long, silent drive, each of them lost in their own thoughts until they reached Tracy’s property.
Tracy took a minute to greet Ducky and Buttons, who hustled to the fence to meet her, before she entered the cabin. Cyclone yipped and licked her arm.
“Well, well,” Grandpa said. “Safe and sound.” His expression changed as a squad car pulled up outside.
John got out and joined them in the kitchen. “I got the Reader’s Digest version from the Copper Creek officer. Want to tell me the rest?”
Tracy did and he jotted notes, expression maddeningly bland as always.
“Okay. I’ll ask around,” he said.
Keegan couldn’t keep quiet for another moment. “You have to do more than ask around.”
John shot him a look. “For your information, the cadaver dogs did alert on something—” he held up a palm “—which may or may not have been a cadaver. They followed the scent to the woods behind the property, but lost it.”
“So someone moved the body. Maybe even loaded it into a car and took off,” Keegan snapped.
“It’s possible.”
“It’s more than possible.” Keegan got up and paced the small space, dislodging needles from the Christmas tree as he brushed by. “We have to find the killer. They know Tracy’s starting to remember.”
“Who knows?”
“Bryce, for one. You have to see that, surely, unless you’re being intentionally obtuse?”
John stood so fast his chair squeaked against the floorboards. “Outside. Right now.”
Keegan was only too eager to follow his half brother onto the porch. He didn’t waste any time getting to the point. “You have to—”
“I have to do my job, Keegan, and you have to stay out of this investigation.”
“Is that what you call this? An investigation? You haven’t believed one single thing Tracy has said since the beginning.”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe or don’t. I need proof, not just your half-baked suspicions.”
“They’re not half-baked.”
“Yes, they are, and what’s more, they’re fueled not by facts but by your personal agenda.”
Keegan’s hands curved into fists. “Bryce is the likeliest one to have been able to hide a body. He knows every square inch of his property.”
“Would you try to think logically for a minute? Why would he kill his veterinarian? What would his motive be when he’s got a multimillion-dollar horse show to hype?”
“Nan knew the animals were being mistreated maybe, or perhaps someone was skimming money.”
“Lots of theories. You’re grasping at straws. You’re so desperate to have him guilty.”
“He is guilty.” Rage washed through Keegan in angry waves that would no longer be contained, rushing like a tsunami. “He turned his back on me, on his responsibility, and on you, too, John. He’s made his new wife and kids his whole world. Does he ever look you up? Ever call to chat? Ask you about anything? Contact you or your mother?”
John flinched. “News flash, Keegan. A guy can be a bad father, but it doesn’t make him a criminal.”
“I’m gonna prove him guilty, as soon as Tracy gets her memory back.”
“And what if she doesn’t? Did you ever think about that?”
“She will.”
“But if she doesn’t...are you going to hang around until she does?”
“I will hang around Tracy forever if it means I can prove Bryce Larraby guilty.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he heard the soft exhalation and looked up to see Tracy standing there, holding a coffeepot and a mug, ready to try to soothe things between Keegan and John.
His last words hung in the air.
I will hang around Tracy forever if it means I can prove Bryce Larraby guilty.
After an awkward silence, John cleared his throat. “I’ll talk to
you later and let you know what I find out.” He tipped his hat to Tracy. “Sorry to bother you, ma’am.”
Keegan went to her, sick. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Her eyes burned and her voice came out in a harsh whisper. “You meant it exactly like that.”
“No.”
Tears sparked her hazel irises to life. “My grandpa has told me the whole time that you were using me, maybe without even knowing it, but I didn’t want to believe him.”
The hurt in her eyes cut like a razor. “Tracy, I...”
“Go home, Keegan. It’s over. I am not going to the horse center anymore, and the police can take care of things if Nan doesn’t return. I want my quiet life, my life with Grandpa. You can get your revenge some other way. No need to hang around me anymore.”
He reached for her but she stepped back. The distance between them might as well have been miles.
Tracy, I’m sorry. His heart screamed it but his mouth remained locked in mute anguish.
Tears hovered on the edges of her lashes as she turned and closed the door.
He wanted to pound on it, shout until she let him in so he could explain.
But the truth was, he had used her, partly anyway—before she’d changed from a way to punish his father to a woman he could not imagine life without, a woman he was beginning to love very much indeed.
He couldn’t deny it anymore. The irony was bitter. That he’d realized he loved her at the very moment he’d broken her heart.
“Tracy!” he called.
From inside, he heard the sound of crying.
What have you done, Keegan?
The anger that he’d nursed for so long had broken loose, anger for the woman who’d birthed him, toward the father who’d cast him aside. The losses carved a searing path through his body, twisting him into a man who had used Tracy Wilson and heaped more hurt on his own half brother, adding to their burdens instead of bearing them as God meant him to. He fisted his hand against the door, the rough wood grinding into his knuckles. What had his anger cost him this time?
Not a bloody nose, or problems with a gang, or a broken relationship with his brother.
