by Lisa Jackson
Kelly had nothing to hide. She took a sip of her coffee and leaned her elbows on the table, so that she was closer to this middle McCafferty brother and could keep her voice at a lower level. “I’ll tell you what I can, but I’m not going to compromise the investigation.”
“I’m family, for Pete’s sake.”
“But they’re not.” Lifting an eyebrow, she scanned the tables, noting that a few nurses sat at one, at another, doctors in scrubs, and at a third, a few people were drinking from cups while others milled nearby. Jana Madrid, the pushy reporter who had pushed her way onto the floor housing the ICU, was among them.
“The press.” Matt scowled darkly.
“Some of them. Who else would be up at this hour?”
“Hell.”
“So let’s just talk in general terms.”
“Shoot.”
“As I said, we’re investigating the possibility that your sister might have been run off the road, and we’re checking any vehicles that might have needed body work after the time of the accident, specifically maroon Fords. We’ve narrowed that down to probably an Explorer. Also, we’re checking on the people she worked with and the men she dated....” Kelly let her voice drift off as one of the men near the table of reporters, a thin man with sandy hair, a clipped mustache and an affable smile wended his way through the empty tables in their direction. Not far behind was the petite newswoman.
“Excuse me,” the man said, flashing a brilliant smile. “I’m Troy White with KAB—”
“I’ve seen you on television,” Kelly said, cutting the reporter off. “I’ve already said ‘No comment’ to one of your associates.” She pointed toward Jana Madrid, and the woman took it as a cue to step forward. Inwardly groaning, Kelly leveled her censorious gaze at Troy.
“I’d just like a few words with Mr. McCafferty. You’re Matt, right?”
Matt glared at him as if he could see right through the man. “Yep.”
“If you don’t mind.”
“I do.” Matt’s expression was hard as granite.
“But it’ll only take a few seconds.” This from Jana, who despite her brashness stood a step behind Troy as if the small man were some kind of shield. Doctors, nurses and the woman behind the cafeteria counter all stopped to watch.
“Another time,” Matt said, standing and towering over the shorter man by three or four inches. He was spoiling for a fight, if ever anyone was. His shoulders were bunched, his right hand clenched into a fist, his nostrils flared.
The reporter either didn’t pick up on Matt’s mood, or didn’t give a damn. “Just tell me about Randi. Do you have any idea who would attack your sister?”
“That’s it!” Kelly shot to her feet. “Maybe you weren’t listening, but Mr. McCafferty here said he didn’t want to be bothered, so maybe you’d better wait for your interview until it’s more convenient for him.” Kelly wedged her angry body between the reporter and Matt and glowered at both reporters, then allowed her gaze to skate across the room to include the cameraman hanging out near the coffeemaker. “Now, if you people aren’t careful, I’ll personally escort you out of here.”
Troy White took offense. His mustache shivered. “Listen, lady, the American people have the right to know—”
“Stuff it, Troy,” Kelly said, cutting him off. “I already heard the spiel from Jana here.” She glanced at the woman next to him. “Both of you will have to wait for a statement.”
Jana’s lips pinched. “Let it go,” she said, touching Troy’s sleeve, though her eyes were fastened to Matt. Despite her professionalism, Kelly felt an unlikely spurt of jealousy squirt through her veins. The woman was pretty, proud and predatory. “We’ve got enough tape for the morning news,” Jana said, and managed a smile that seemed to be trained only on Matt. “Thank you for your trouble.”
Troy White somehow managed to grit his teeth and give Kelly and Matt a quick cursory nod. “Another time.”
“Call first,” Matt warned. He strode out the doors and Kelly caught up with him near the reception area. He slid her a glance as he kept walking. “Look, Detective, I don’t need anyone to fight my battles.” He glanced down at her small frame. “Especially not a woman.”
“I’m a cop,” she reminded him as they reached the elevators.
“A female cop.”
Stung, she slapped the call button. “But a cop just the same. I can handle myself,” she asserted, angry with herself for letting his remarks get under her skin. He was so damned unsettling and his opinion mattered way more than it should.
“I don’t remember asking for your help.”
The nerve of the man. Of all the pompous, self-serving…Simmering, she turned on him, ready for a fight. “I was just doing my job, okay? I didn’t mean to step on your fragile male ego if that’s what you’re insinuating.”
He grabbed her arm. “Nothing about me is fragile.” Her heart leaped and blood pounded in her ears as she stared into a face raw with emotion.
The doors to the elevator slid open. Nicole Stevenson nearly collided with them. “Oh! Matt?” She stopped on the tracking and the doors started to close only to open again. The bell chimed. Her surprised gaze moved from the middle McCafferty brother’s eyes to Kelly’s before she glanced down at Matt’s fingers, wrapped so tightly over Kelly’s arm.
“Vulture alert,” Matt said, dropping Kelly’s elbow as if it were hot. “The press.”
“They just don’t let up,” Nicole muttered. She frowned at Kelly. “Maybe that’s something you should handle.”
“I have.”
“Just like you and your department handled Randi’s safety?” she asked, then, as if hearing herself, sighed and stepped back into the elevator car. “Sorry,” she said, leaning her shoulders against the back wall of the elevator. She shoved stiff fingers through her hair, pushing the locks off her forehead. “That was uncalled-for.” Matt pushed the button to the third floor. “I’m just worried sick,” Nicole admitted. “Not only for Randi, but for Thorne as well.”
“He’ll be fine. Tough as nails,” Matt said, and offered her an encouraging smile, hinting at a softer, kinder man beneath his cowboy-thick skin. There was definitely more to the man than met the eye, more than he wanted most people to see. More than Kelly wanted to glimpse. The last thing she needed was to start softening to any member of the McCafferty family. Especially this man who sent her pulse skyrocketing for no tangible reason.
“I hope he’ll be okay,” Nicole whispered.
The rest of the ride was tense silence. On the third floor Slade was still standing, one shoulder propped against the wall near the doors to the ICU. A self-imposed security guard. “Your boss is looking for you,” he said to Kelly. There wasn’t a bit of warmth in his laser-blue eyes; he was as cold to her as the McCaffertys had always been.
“Espinoza?”
“Yeah. He’s up on the fourth floor.”
“Thanks.” Kelly noted that the policewoman was still hanging around. Espinoza was leaving nothing to chance. “I’ll need to talk to all of you again.”
“You know where to find us,” Matt said, and she felt his gaze drilling into her back as she hurried to the stairwell. Inhaling deeply, she forced him from her mind. She couldn’t, wouldn’t think of him as anything more than the brother of a victim…nothing more.
Jaw set, she took the stairs two at a time. Whether anyone in the McCafferty household believed it or not, she was determined to unearth the slime who had run Randi McCafferty off the road and, when that hadn’t killed her, had found the guts to walk into a hospital and try to finish the job. Not that murdering a comatose victim took much bravery.
Kelly couldn’t wait to nail the bastard.
Because she wanted to solve the crime, because she wanted to insure Randi’s safety and because, damn it, she wanted to prove herself to Ma
tt McCafferty.
Chapter 4
“So the police have nothing,” Thorne said the next morning while huddled over a cup of coffee, his broken leg propped on another chair at the scarred kitchen table, the same table where they’d prayed, eaten and fought as kids. The maple surface was nicked and half the original chairs had been replaced, but the biggest change was that John Randall no longer took his seat at the head of the table near the window, where he could rest his elbow on the ledge, sip coffee and stare out at the vast acres of the ranch he loved.
Not that Matt cared. But, in a way, it seemed odd that the old man was missing. “I think the police don’t have a clue as to who’s behind the attacks.”
“Hell.” Storm clouds gathered in Thorne’s gray eyes and Matt knew that his older brother was silently cussing his broken leg for keeping him housebound. Thorne couldn’t stand being cooped up. A control freak from the get-go, he needed to be in charge, to make decisions, to be able to be on the front lines. “Has anyone heard from Striker?” he grumbled.
“Not for a couple of days.” Matt stretched one arm over his head and yawned. He’d spent a restless night, tossed and turned, his mind spinning in endless circles of concern for his sister, her baby, and with disturbing thoughts about a certain red-haired cop, the one who seemed determined to infiltrate his dreams and keep him awake at night. He’d woken up this morning and beelined for the shower, turning on the cold stinging spray to chase any remaining thoughts of her from his mind…and body. Why he was attracted to Kelly Dillinger, he couldn’t imagine. She was a policewoman, for crying out loud. Not exactly his type.
As Matt drained his cup, Juanita bustled through the back door. A blast of cold air swept through the room and Harold found his way to his favorite spot on the braided rug under the table. Absently Matt leaned over to scratch the old dog behind his ears.
“Dios, it’s cold out there. Frío.”
“That it is, Juanita,” Matt agreed, as he’d already trudged to the barn and stables to feed the stock, then checked the troughs, making certain they hadn’t iced over. He’d called Mike Kavanaugh, his neighbor, this morning and learned that his own place on the Idaho border was still standing. Mike was making noise about buying it again, but Matt resisted. He’d fought too hard and long to own a ranch of his own and his stay here at the Flying M was temporary. Just until things calmed down, Thorne was back on his feet again and Randi was out of the woods. Then he’d leave Grand Hope and any lingering fascination he had with Kelly Dillinger behind him.
“You mentioned that Randi was writing a book,” Thorne said as Juanita unwrapped herself from several layers of coats and sweaters.
“Sí.” She hung her wraps on hooks near the back door and fussed with her hair, tucking a few wayward strands from the braid she pinned to the base of her neck.
“You saw it?”
“No.”
“But you think it existed?” Another dead end in Matt’s estimation. He stood and refilled his coffee cup from the glass pot warming on the coffeemaker.
“She said it did. The last time she was here.” Juanita poured herself a cup of coffee, took one long gulp, placed her mug on the counter and started searching through the pantry. Her voice was muted as she said, “Señorita Randi, she worked on it for hours, sitting on the couch in the living room.”
Thorne’s eyes met Matt’s as he lounged against the counter by the coffeepot. “So where is it? Her laptop computer?”
From the depths of the pantry, Juanita snorted. “How would I know?”
“Maybe Kurt’ll find it,” Matt said to his brother.
“If he’s as good as Slade says he is,” Thorne scoffed as Juanita reappeared, paused to take another swallow of coffee, then slid into an apron and tied it around her waist.
“He figured out another vehicle was involved in Randi’s accident before the police did,” Matt pointed out. “My money’s on him.”
Juanita was starting to bang some pans on the stove and the sounds of tiny scurrying feet approached. Thorne’s harsh expression melted as the twins raced into the room, their footed pajamas sliding on the worn floor.
“I wondered when you two would wake up,” he said with a chuckle.
“The baby was crying!” Molly wrinkled her nose and put her hands over her ears.
Mindy, who had crawled onto Thorne’s lap, copied her sister, placing her chubby palms to the sides of her head and making a face as if she’d tasted something disgusting. “He cried and cried.”
At that moment Nicole walked into the kitchen carrying little J.R. Her eyelids were still heavy, her normally crisp steps dragging. “We’re up,” she said around a yawn. “Whether we want to be or not.” She was dressed in a fluffy white robe and pink scuffs, her hair mussed, her face devoid of makeup, but she radiated a quiet beauty that came from deep inside. And Thorne was captivated. Never in a million years would Matt have thought his older brother—a harsh, determined businessman hell-bent to make his next million—ever capable of falling in love and settling down, but this lady doc with her twin scamps had captured his heart.
“I’ll take the baby,” Thorne offered, and she shook her head and smiled.
“You’ve got your hands full already.” She motioned toward the twins, both of whom decided they wanted to climb onto Thorne’s lap.
“Here, sit down. Have a cup of coffee. I’ll take over,” Matt said, standing and reaching for the tiny bundle that was his nephew. Bright eyes stared up at him. “Don’t panic,” he ordered the little one. “No matter how clumsy I appear, it’s just an act. I’m really a complete and utter idiot when it comes to taking care of a baby.”
“You certainly instill confidence,” Nicole observed as she poured herself a cup of coffee from the glass carafe. “Hey, girls, what do you say to pancakes?”
“With blueberries and syrup?” Molly asked.
“Well…syrup for sure. I don’t know if we have any berries.”
“In the freezer. I’ll get some,” Juanita said as she wiped her hands and walked into a small alcove by the pantry.
“You want the same?” Nicole asked her other daughter.
Mindy nodded vigorously. “Yeth.”
“Easy deal,” Thorne said, and Matt wondered about Thorne and his built-in family. It appeared to work. He was nuts for those kids and crazy about Nicole, acting as if she was the only woman on this entire planet for him.
Matt had trouble swallowing it. For years Thorne had dodged marriage, though many a beautiful and smart woman had set her matrimonial sights on him. But he’d never been interested and certainly hadn’t committed. Until Nicole. And then all bets had been off.
Matt settled into a chair. He couldn’t blame Thorne. Nicole was beautiful, smart, ambitious and a helluva mother. A catch.
Without preamble Kelly Dillinger’s image sparked unexpectedly through Matt’s mind. She, too, was beautiful…well, he supposed she would be if she ever shed her uniform and cop attitude, and she was smart as a whip, could handle herself in most situations, suffered no fools and, even in uniform, was sexy as hell. Too bad she lived here, so far from his ranch on the western Montana border, he thought, then caught himself up short. What the hell was he thinking? He wasn’t even close to settling down, and certainly not with a woman—a cop—who lived hundreds of miles away from his home.
“So is that the consensus?” Nicole asked, searching the faces around the table. “Pancakes?”
Thorne nodded. “And bacon, eggs—”
“Cholesterol, fat…”
“Exactly.” Thorne winked and Nicole laughed, a deep husky laugh.
“Well, okay. I know a great heart surgeon just in case we have a problem.”
“Load me up!” Thorne said as the twins scrambled out of his lap. For the first time in his life Matt felt a touch of envy. What Thorne share
d with Nicole was deep. True. With the kind of bond Matt hadn’t believe existed. His father and mother, Larissa, had split up when Penelope had come into the picture. John Randall had married the younger woman, becoming a father again within six months of the wedding date, and that union, too, had crumbled, unable to stand the test of time.
Restless, Matt watched as his brother hobbled into the kitchen, gave Nicole a playful swat on her rump, then actually helped make breakfast around Juanita’s sharp protests.
The self-made millionaire and CEO, playboy in his own right, was flipping flapjacks as if he’d done it all his life. Matt’s gaze caught Juanita’s and he saw that she was just as surprised as he. She didn’t say it, but the words will wonders never cease came to mind as surely as if the housekeeper had sent them via mental telepathy.
Holding the baby and letting his cup of coffee grow cold, Matt stared through the window where ice had collected and snow gathered in the corners of the panes. What about his own life? He’d never considered marriage, had thought it all a waste of time, and children, well, there was plenty of time before he needed to become a father. And when he did, he’d find a homebody, not a career woman, someone who would want to live on his ranch, someone who cared as much for the land as he did, a woman who would want to share his life the way he wanted to live it. But that was someday. Not today. He just wasn’t ready for a family.
He glanced down at the baby snuggled in his arms and for the first time second-guessed himself.
Maybe he’d been wrong.
* * *
“I think it was one of the brothers,” Karla asserted as she worked on her last client of the day. Standing in the first station of her small salon, she swiped the strands of Nancy Pederson’s hair with a small brush dipped into a red color, then wrapped the lock in foil until Nancy’s head looked like it could pick up radio signals from Pluto.
Nancy, while twisting her head this way and that to accommodate Karla’s ministrations, was doing a crossword puzzle. The pounding beat of a Shania Twain song underscored the sound of Karla’s popping gum and conversation. Plants grew in profusion near the windows at the front of the shop, and on an antique armoire painted salmon-pink, bottles of shampoo and conditioner were displayed. The faint odors of a recently developed perm mixed with traces of perfume. The counters were a deep purple, the walls brown, and head shots of celebrities adorned the area around each individual station. Karla had been a beautician for ten years. She’d owned this shop for two.
