Thayne recognized the expression on his father’s face as he moved through one scenario after another.
Finally, he stroked his chin. “Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of this, Dan. I’ll talk to Kate.”
Dan shook his head. “Time for talk is done. She ain’t listening to me. I want her put in jail. That’s where my girl says she belongs.” He glared at his old friend.
Thayne crossed the office and opened the door. “Mr. Peterson, could you wait outside with Alicia for a moment? We need to take your statement in writing.”
“In writing. I like that,” he said and stalked out of the office.
As soon as he’d gone, Thayne turned on his father. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Well, I’m going to take my friend home to Kate and get them to talk it out, that’s what. That’s part of the job.”
Thayne crossed one booted leg and cocked his head. “Who exactly is sheriff in this town?”
His father winced. “Sorry, Thayne. Of course you are, but he’s my friend. He and Kate both are. They’ve been married for over ten years, ever since his first wife passed from cancer.” His dad pulled at his eyebrow. “Look, part of the job is knowing folks’ backstory. You’ll learn the ropes soon enough. Besides, Kate had a bit of trouble drinking back in the day. I want to check it out. Make sure she’s still on the wagon.”
Oh no. This wasn’t happening. Thayne had promised his sister. “First off, I’m driving Dan to the clinic so Cheyenne can check out that bruise and see if there are any more injuries. Then I’ll follow Dan home, and I’ll evaluate the situation.”
“I’m coming with you.” His father planted his feet and placed his hands on his hips in challenge.
“I’m the sheriff, Dad. Not you. This isn’t your job anymore.”
His dad stilled, and inside Thayne grimaced. He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but his father could get worked up. It wasn’t good for his heart. Besides, Cheyenne wasn’t just his sister; she was the only doctor in town. She’d forced a promise from Thayne and their brothers to keep Dad calm. Not let him do too much.
“Wait here,” Thayne said to his father.
“Don’t treat me like I should be out in the pasture or up on a rock on those mountains just waiting to die. I may not be one hundred percent anymore, but I’m not on my last mile, either.”
The start of a headache pushed at Thayne’s temples. They had to find his father a purpose. And soon. His dad was right. He was barely sixty; unfortunately, a virus had given him the heart of a seventy-five-year-old. He had to take it easy.
Thayne closed the door to his office and walked over to Dan. “Mr. Peterson. I’d like to take you to—”
The radio on Alicia’s desk squawked to life.
“We’ve got a fire at the Jordans’ place. No one noticed anything until . . .” The voice broke with emotion. “We need all the volunteers for the fire truck and everybody else we can spare. It’s bad.”
CHAPTER TWO
Riley couldn’t deny she’d missed Singing River. The hills on the outskirts of the small town rolled like an ocean of grass until they bumped against the Wind River Mountains. The first time she’d visited, she’d been on the hunt for her sister’s kidnapper. The second time, she’d come because Thayne had asked.
This time, she wasn’t quite sure. She wanted to say she was coming home. She’d fallen in love with Wyoming—the expanse of sky, the fresh air, but also, more important than all that, the people.
One person in particular.
But life wasn’t simple. Her boss had given her a lot to think about yesterday.
Normally, Riley would’ve headed straight to the sheriff’s office to see Thayne, to walk into his arms, but his SUV hadn’t been parked outside.
She’d tried to call, but he hadn’t picked up. Besides, unlike during the first year of their relationship, the phone wasn’t enough anymore. She needed to be with him.
The thought made her pause. She’d never allowed herself to be vulnerable to anyone until Thayne. She’d learned early that love was conditional, not to be trusted.
He’d convinced her to have faith in more than herself. To have faith in him.
She’d needed a distraction. And she’d found one. The moment she’d listened to that unidentified message—Kim Jordan’s message—on her trip, her Spidey sense had gone haywire. A mystery, a question, and a hint of danger. Her pulse raced in anticipation. An addiction she’d fed in DC.
Was that her problem? Was she obsessed with investigations?
She shoved the thought aside. The trees spiked high in the sky as she curved around the bend. The house shouldn’t be far. The scent of burning wood filtered in from the outside. The memory of a warm, cozy fire reminded her of Thayne and countless nights spent in front of his fireplace. A flash of heat warmed her cheeks. Maybe she should have tried to find him first.
Hopefully Kim Jordan or her husband would be home. Riley had no idea why the woman had left her such an odd and cryptic message. They’d never met before.
One last turn, and at the sight in front of her, Riley hit the brakes. All four sheriff’s vehicles and the lone fire engine from Singing River were parked off to the side. Tongues of smoke rose from the smoldering remains of the house and barn. Burned timbers lay strewn in a pile of rubble.
Riley jumped out of her vehicle and raced over to where Thayne stood, his mouth covered with a mask.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Riley?” Thayne’s eyes widened. “Get out of here. You need protective gear.”
He dragged her away from the fire, ripped his mask off, and hugged her close. Riley clutched him and let out a long, slow breath, taking in his warmth. “I missed you,” she said against his jacket. “More than you’ll ever know.”
“I missed you, too.”
His arms held her so tight she didn’t know if she could move. She loved this feeling. He was home to her.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Kim Jordan left me a message while I was in DC. She didn’t say much, just that she’d been given my name, was in trouble, and needed my help as soon as possible.”
Thayne pulled away from her. “Did you know her?”
Riley shook her head. “We’d never met. I don’t even know how she got my number, but she sounded . . . anxious.” Riley scanned what was left of the Jordan home. “I guess she had reason to be. What happened?”
“The fire investigator from Riverton stopped by. Said it was a tragic accident. Cigarette started the fire in the bedroom. Aaron and Kim were in bed. Didn’t make it out. It’s been so dry the sparks made their way to the barn, too.”
“From the evidence, I guess it seems open and shut,” Riley said. “If it weren’t for that phone call . . .”
Thayne stared at her. He could see through her thoughts. It was one of the things that drove her crazy. She couldn’t hide much of anything from him.
“I recognize that look on your face,” he said. “You say Kim sounded worried?”
Riley nodded. “Do you mind if I take a look?”
He gave her some gear. Once she’d donned the boots, suit, and mask, she wandered through the house.
The place hadn’t turned completely to ash. She could make out the bedroom. She knelt next to the bed. “The fire started here.”
“Cigarette and a kerosene lamp. They didn’t have a prayer. Their bedding was burned into their bodies,” he said.
Deputy Michael Ironcloud strode over to them. “No sign of their daughter. No tracks around the house. She wasn’t in her bedroom.”
“Maybe she’s with a friend.” Thayne frowned, his brow furrowed. “She could come home later. School just let out.”
“Chloe was homeschooled,” Ironcloud said. “The Jordans hardly ever came to town. Aaron worked on ranches around the county doing whatever work he could get. Kim sold fresh produce and homemade jams. They’ve lived here for six or seven years and never had much to do with any
one else.”
Thayne glanced up at the sky. “It’ll be dark in three hours, and the temperature’s getting close to freezing at night. Organize several search parties. Even a homeschooled kid has friends. Go to the houses of kids about her age and find out if anyone’s seen her. If that doesn’t work, we’ll fan out from here.”
Deputy Ironcloud nodded and took off in his vehicle down the dirt road.
“How old is Chloe?” Riley asked, hating the sick feeling in her gut.
“Twelve.”
“The same age as Maddy when she was kidnapped.” Riley swallowed. She’d spent fifteen years searching for her sister, and even though they’d found Madison last month, Riley still blamed herself for not stopping the kidnapping in the first place.
She wouldn’t let that happen to Chloe.
As if he could read her mind, Thayne slipped his fingers into her hand. “I won’t ask you to get some rest, even though I can tell you haven’t slept for days. You’re going to help with the search?”
“Of course.” Riley ignored the grit behind her eyes. How could she sleep when a young girl was missing? “Can I look around here first? Something here might lead us to Chloe.”
Thayne kissed her cheek. “Thank you. Pendergrass has already taken photos. We were finishing up so the fire department can turn the ashes and confirm the fire danger has passed.”
She picked her way through the rubble of what was left of the Jordans’ bedroom, where the smell of burned flesh hung heavy in the air. “Aaron Jordan smoked?” she asked with a tilt of her head. “And his body was on this side of the bed?”
“You’ve got it backwards.”
Riley circumnavigated the ash heap. Inch by inch she surveyed the entire area where the Jordans had died. “You’re sure?”
Thayne stilled, and she could see she’d piqued his interest with her question. She’d meant to.
“That’s what I was told,” he said.
Riley squatted and glanced at what was left of a lighter. “It’s all wrong, then.” She stood and faced Thayne. “This wasn’t an accident. I’m almost certain they were murdered.”
The stench of burned, wet wood with an aftermath of charred flesh stuck in Thayne’s throat. “Murdered?”
Hip deep in a crime scene wasn’t how he’d planned to welcome her home. He’d dreamed for days of what he would say, what he would do. Assuming she did come back. Now, instead of greeting Riley with a good meal, a night alone, and a reminder of how much he loved her, they were standing in the middle of a death scene. Definitely not part of his playbook.
Already he could see her focus lasering in on the secret she believed she’d uncovered in what remained of the Jordans’ house. He couldn’t discount her gut. He’d witnessed her gift firsthand.
She squatted next to where the fire had started. “This should be his side of the bed. And what was in his drawer? A metal tube of lipstick. On the other side, I can make out the remains of a revolver. Looks like an old Colt. There’s even what appears to be a lighter.” She sent Thayne a long, slow gaze. “Who do you think slept where?”
Thayne studied the evidence for a moment. “The investigator didn’t notice those details.” He didn’t want her to be right; having a murderer in their midst would cause a panic, but damn it, Riley was very good at her job.
She gripped his arm. “What if the person who set the fire took Chloe? You’ve got to warn Deputy Ironcloud.”
Thayne pulled her to her feet. “Hold on. You’re making a lot of assumptions. There weren’t any tire tracks or prints leading to or from the house. How can you be so sure this wasn’t an accident? Maybe Kim was worried about Chloe. Maybe her parents switched sides of the bed. Maybe Chloe’s spending the night with a friend.”
“That’s a lot of maybes, Thayne.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” He shifted his shoulders, trying to unknot the tension her suspicions had caused. Hell, Riley was probably right. She usually was.
“I’m not seeing a crime where there isn’t one. You know that as well as I do. Something’s wrong here. Whatever happened, we have to find Chloe.”
Thayne hated the haunted look in Riley’s eyes. When her sister had been taken, Riley’s parents had spiraled into dysfunction. Riley had practically raised herself. It was a wonder she’d turned out halfway normal, much less the extraordinary person she was.
“I’ll call Ironcloud, have him ask around town for any strangers, though it’s hard to tell these days with all the natural-gas workers that come through heading toward the fields outside Boulder.”
He made his way around the ashes and contacted his deputy. He wanted Riley to be wrong, but he’d witnessed that look more than once when she’d been searching for his sister. Riley’s gut was gold. Which meant there was a murderer out there.
A rumbling engine exploded in backfire, and Thayne spun around. Dust kicked up from an old pickup. The truck skidded to a halt on the dirt road and tapped Thayne’s SUV on the bumper.
Dan Peterson scowled from behind the wheel, yanked his vehicle into reverse, and backed up a few feet.
“Unbelievable,” Thayne said under his breath, glancing over at Riley. “I’ll be right back.”
At his words, her brow wrinkled in concern, but she nodded before her focus returned to the crime scene.
Thayne stalked over to Dan. The older man shoved open his door. “Sheriff,” he said with a frown, “your father has been a pain in my backside. Invited himself to dinner, hung out at our place all night long. Won’t stop bugging me to get checked out. Do I look like I need a doctor?”
Thayne couldn’t argue that his father had inserted himself into the situation. He obviously hadn’t been able to get anywhere. “Dan, what are you doing here? I’m a little busy right now. I’ve assigned my father to your case.”
“I got no case.” Dan wrinkled his nose. “Heard about this place. Heard his daughter was nowhere to be found. Thought you might not look everywhere you should. You interested in my information or not?” He muttered something about young folks and respect and turned on his heel.
Thayne paused and touched Dan’s sleeve. “You know the Jordans?”
The older man removed his hat and twisted it in his hands before slowly facing Thayne. “Did some work for him over the years. His wife made the best blackberry jam in the state, but he could be a pain in the butt on the job.”
Thayne reached into his pocket for his notebook. “You two get along okay?”
Dan shrugged. “Well enough, I suppose. He wasn’t exactly a friendly fellow. Had a lot of secrets, for sure. Didn’t want no one knowing his business. Made me promise never to tell anyone about the last project.”
“Really?” Thayne glanced over his shoulder. As if Riley had read his mind, she’d already picked her way through the ashes and paused beside him. “You remember Special Agent Lambert?” he asked.
“Seen her around town.” Dan doffed his hat. “Ma’am.”
Now this was the Dan that Thayne remembered. “What kind of secrets did Aaron Jordan have, Dan?”
Riley raised a brow.
“Didn’t want anyone to know his business, that’s for sure. Lived off the grid as much as possible. Didn’t trust the law—or anyone else for that matter. Most didn’t want to work for him because he didn’t deal in money. Liked to trade. And I loved to slather my biscuits in Mrs. Jordan’s—”
“Blackberry jam,” Thayne finished.
Dan’s eyes lit up. “Cobbler, too. My wife’s cobbler is pretty much like sawdust.”
“Sir,” Riley said, “did you notice any changes in their behavior recently?”
“Oh, I hadn’t seen them in a while.” Dan curled his hat. “He’d finished up his big jobs. Repaired the barn, put in that solar electricity. Finished that crazy doomsday cellar. Big waste of time, if you asked me.”
“Wait a minute. Are you saying there’s a cellar in this house?”
“Yeah.”
Thayne clasped Dan’s arm. “Sho
w us where.”
Dan led them into what was left of the living room and pointed to an area near the center. Riley stomped her foot, then moved over a couple of feet and stomped again.
“Metal.” Thayne knelt in the center of the floor and shoved aside the ash. A round metal handle lay flush with the floor. With a grunt, he lifted up, and a metal covering hinged open. Below, steps aimed downward, the walls charred with smoke. At the bottom of the stairs, a metal door blocked the way.
Carefully Thayne navigated the metal stairs. They creaked under his weight but held. “It got hotter than hell down here.”
“A panic room?” Riley asked from above.
“That’s what Aaron called it,” Dan said.
“So the Jordans were survivalists.” Thayne reached the door barricading the way. He touched the discolored steel. “Smoke filled up the stairwell.”
He shoved the handle down. It didn’t budge.
“Pendergrass, I need a crowbar and an ax,” he called to one of his other deputies.
Dan hovered nearby, and after a few moments, Riley passed Thayne the tools. He slipped the crowbar’s edge into the sealed jamb and used all his strength.
The door popped open. A whiff of smoke assaulted his senses. Bracing himself, Thayne peered inside. A young girl lay on the floor just inside the door.
He knelt and turned her over. “Chloe?”
Riley knelt on the girl’s other side. “Is she . . . ?”
He bent over and felt a small pull of breath from her mouth. “She’s alive.” Thayne jumped to his feet. “Pendergrass. We need that ambulance back. Now! We have a survivor.”
The Singing River Hospital could house only a dozen patients, but Riley had always been impressed at the care provided. She paced the floor near Chloe Jordan’s room. Smoke still lingered in her nose. The smell had permeated Chloe’s sweater and jeans, yet somehow there’d been enough oxygen in the panic room for the girl to breathe. And survive.
Thayne strode in from taking Dan Peterson’s statement, Stetson in his hand. “How is she doing?”
Forgotten Legacy Page 3
