by Stacy Finz
Of course, he’d spent most of the day with Harper, listening to her chatter on endlessly the way thirteen-year-olds did, leaving no space for anyone else to get a word in edgewise. Slowly but surely, she was adapting to her new home, her new life, to him and to Emily. But even still, his daughter was as fragile as glass, trying to make sense of the loss of the people who’d stolen and loved her and a new beginning with her real parents who were no longer together. It was a lot for an adult to handle, let alone an adolescent.
“You ready to go?”
Kristy threw his jacket in the back seat and got up front. “Yep. Hopefully we won’t hit all the ski traffic on the way down.”
For as cold as it had been, they hadn’t gotten that much snow. But on a Sunday evening there was bound to be plenty of cars on the road. Lots of folks returning home from a weekend in the mountains.
“Keep your fingers crossed,” he said, and started the engine.
“What’s this about Harper wanting to ride?”
Harper had complained that Emily and Clay wouldn’t let her have a lesson from the woman who’d brought her home the other day after her spill from Ginger. Raylene was her name. Drew was surprised that Kristy had overheard the conversation, and even more surprised that she’d raised the topic. Of late, she’d become reticent when it came to Harper, afraid of overstepping her bounds. Drew wished she would play more of a role but hadn’t brought it up, not wanting to rock an already wobbly boat.
“This Raylene woman, who is apparently quite accomplished with horses, offered to help Harper. I don’t know all the details, but Emily and Clay have a problem with her.”
“A problem? What kind of problem?”
Drew chuckled. “Something about her screwing over one of their friends. It sounds like a lot of small-town Peyton Place crap, nothing I wanted to get involved with. In the five-minute contact I had with her she seemed nice enough.”
“So it’s not like she’s got a criminal record?” Kristy turned up the heat.
The forecast said snow, and Drew wanted to get to the pass before the roads got icy.
“Nothing like that.” He reached across the console and threaded his fingers through hers. “She doesn’t live in Nugget anymore and was only here for the wedding. She’s leaving soon, so it’s probably best that Harper doesn’t get attached to her anyway.”
“And how does Harper know her in the first place?”
Drew told Kristy about Harper’s unfortunate fall from Ginger and how Raylene had come to the rescue. He left out the part about Emily freaking out over Harper sneaking off with the horse. Kristy thought they were both too overprotective, but she hadn’t gone through the trauma of losing a child. It was a topic they steered clear of. There were so many subjects that they now tiptoed around that Drew had lost count.
“Harper appears to be very taken with the woman,” he said.
“Why do you think that is?”
Drew chuckled again. “I’m guessing partly because she looks like a teen idol. Kind of Daisy Duke meets Hayden Panettiere.”
Kristy cleared her throat. “Sounds like you were quite taken with her, too.”
“Jealous?” He patted her leg teasingly.
“Should I be?” She laughed.
It was the closest they’d come to being playful with each other since the police had found Hope at Christmastime. Drew found it encouraging.
“Nope. I’m a one-woman man.” He changed lanes to get out from behind a semitruck. “I also got the impression that Harper liked talking to her. The way she put it was, ‘Raylene doesn’t treat me like a freak or a victim.’” He supposed most people, nervous about saying the wrong thing, handled Harper with kid gloves.
“They had that much of a chance to talk? I thought you said she brought Harper right home.”
“Yeah.” Drew nodded. “But then Harper saw her again at the wedding. Clearly, the woman has made a big impression.”
“How soon is she leaving? It seems silly not to let Harper take a lesson. What harm could it do?”
“That was my thought, but Emily’s pretty adamant about it.”
Kristy turned to stare out the window.
“Kris? What’s on your mind?” He didn’t have to ask, really. Emily had become another one of their off-limits topics.
She sighed. “You’re Harper’s father. Shouldn’t you also have a say in what’s right for your daughter?” She leaned her head against the seat and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know why I get involved. It’s between you and Emily, and that’s the problem, Drew. I’m not part of this. You want me to be, but every time I open my mouth, it’s Emily-this and Emily-that. She’s Harper’s mother, I get that. I get that I’m the interloper here. But it’s hard to sit back and watch you smother that beautiful little girl. What happened all those years ago was beyond monstrous. Your child was stolen from you. My God, Drew, it’s every parent’s nightmare. But the fact is, Harper had a good life. She was loved and cared for and raised like any normal child. I’m not giving her abductors a pass. What they did is unimaginable…and unforgivable. All I’m saying is that Harper is a well-adjusted girl. It’s her parents…” She paused, then went back to staring out the window.
“Go on and say it. It’s her parents who aren’t well-adjusted.”
“And how could you be after what the both of you went through? I understand that, Drew. I feel every drop of your pain. All I’m saying is, don’t transfer all that anguish to Harper. Don’t suffocate her; let her be a thirteen-year-old, and let her pick her own idols.”
In his heart, he knew she was right. But loosening up and letting go was easier said than done.
“I want to talk to you about something else,” she said, and he stiffened. The tone in her voice signaled the gravity of whatever she was about to say.
“I want to do another round of IVF,” she continued. “I know with the expense of the new house we really can’t afford it, but I was thinking we could take out a second mortgage on the Palo Alto house. We have plenty of equity, and we can put that bathroom remodel we were planning on hold.”
“I thought we already put it on hold to buy the Nugget house.” The truth was he didn’t want to do another round of IVF. He didn’t think he could live with Kristy’s disappointment. “Babe, you heard what the doctor said.”
“She said she couldn’t predict what would happen.”
“But as long as there was no remediable explanation for failure after three attempts, she didn’t recommend a fourth one.” The doctor had indeed made it clear that she no longer thought IVF was a viable option for them, but Drew wondered that it was his convenient excuse to stop trying.
“So we just give up? Is that what you’re saying?”
“No, what I’m saying is we go back to the old-fashioned method.”
“That hasn’t worked either,” she said with an edge in her voice. “I don’t care what Dr. Melly says. There’s new research showing that two-thirds of women who undergo six or more cycles of IVF get pregnant. It just came out, and it’s legitimate, not some fly-by-night study.”
He let out a breath of frustration. She spent hours trolling the Internet, reading whatever she could get her hands on. Research that said you could increase fertility by standing on your head, painting your headboard yellow, eating royal jelly, and drinking baboon urine. Drew had lost count of all the ways.
They hit a bottleneck in Sacramento, and he considered pulling off at the next exit and waiting out traffic at a restaurant. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and was hungry.
“You want to get dinner?” he asked.
“Is that your way of changing the subject?”
“No, it’s my way of asking if you want to eat.”
“I don’t want to eat; I want to finish our conversation.”
“Okay, you want to finish our conversation, here g
oes. I don’t want to do a fourth cycle of IVF, and I’m definitely not doing six. So if you don’t want to eat, we’ll drive.”
And they did, in silence.
Chapter 13
Raylene thought she heard a car door slam. Deciding it was a dream, she rolled over and went back to sleep. A few minutes later, she heard it again. This time it sounded like the squeak of a tailgate.
She quickly sat up and lifted the lace curtain next to her bed. It was too dark to see the driveway below her bedroom, so she pressed her ear to the glass and listened. Maybe it was the sound of snow hitting the tin roof of the shed, or a raccoon rummaging through the trash. She started to lie back down when she heard it again.
A rustle and a thump and something that sounded like whispering. But maybe that was just the wind wafting through the pines.
She tried to convince herself that it was merely being in a big house alone. There was an alarm—Logan was over the top when it came to security—but she hadn’t thought to set it after Gabe had dropped her off. It was Nugget, after all. The only person she’d ever been afraid of here was her father, and he was dead.
She got out of bed and padded to another window, hoping there’d be more moonlight at that end of the room. The view proved to be just as dark, and she wished she would’ve thought to turn on one of the outside lights before she’d gone to bed.
Too spooked to go downstairs, she went into Logan and Annie’s room at the end of the hall and peered out their windows. She still didn’t see anything, but she could’ve sworn she heard a creaking sound coming from her truck.
She thought about calling 9-1-1, but by the time anyone got there she’d be lying in a pool of blood. Plus, she didn’t want to have to face Jake Stryker again. Rhys Shepard lived down the road, but he was no fan of hers either.
She’d rather take her chances on her own.
She crept down the stairs. First thing she’d do was activate the alarm, then shine a light on the driveway. It seemed like a sound plan until she heard what was for sure the slamming of a door.
Shit!
She ran back up the stairs, dove into her bed, grabbed her cell phone off the nightstand, and hit automatic dial.
Wake up, wake up.
“Hello.”
“Someone’s in the driveway. I think they’re stealing my truck.”
“Where are you?”
“In my room. I started to go down there but got scared.”
“Stay where you are. Better yet, go into Logan’s room. He keeps a Sig P226 in the closet. You know how to use a handgun?”
“It’s been a while, but Daddy taught me.”
“Go!” he said, and she could hear him moving. “As soon as you get it, call 9-1-1 and stay in your room. I’ll be there fast as I can.”
“Hurry.”
“Call 9-1-1, you hear me? And Raylene, don’t shoot us when we get there.”
She found the gun in Logan’s closet and sat in there, wondering if she was a complete paranoid wackadoodle. What if no one was down there and all she’d heard was the wind and snow, playing tricks? But she’d heard what she heard. And it wasn’t the weather. She’d slept through Sierra blizzards; she knew the difference.
She gritted her teeth and called the police. An operator told her someone was on their way, and she prayed it would be Wyatt or that new woman in the department. Anyone but Jake.
Then she waited.
It seemed like forever until she heard a siren, and then a car. She left the gun where she found it and went downstairs when someone rang the bell.
“It’s Chief Shepard.”
She answered the door and let Rhys in.
“Gabe’s on his way.” She didn’t know why she’d offered that information and felt the need to add, “I called him first.”
He merely nodded. “Did you see anyone?”
“No, but I heard someone in the driveway. You didn’t see anyone when you drove up?”
“Nope.” Great, he didn’t believe her. “Let me have a look. Wait here.”
He went outside and she shut the door to keep the cold out. A few minutes later, she heard Gabe’s SUV pull up and felt instantly better. Safer. She watched out the window as the two men conferred. They were looking at something near her truck. She ran upstairs, found her ski jacket, slipped into her cowboy boots, and went outside.
The front porch was covered in snow and she was careful not to slip. Gabe lifted his head from his and Rhys’ huddle and motioned for her to join them. He met her at the steps and gave her a hand down.
“Come take a look at this.”
She followed him to her truck.
Rhys had turned on his headlights and part of the driveway was illuminated. He made room for her so she could peer inside the cab and swept a flashlight over the interior. “Don’t touch anything.”
Her glovebox was open and its contents were scattered on the passenger seat and floor.
“Did you leave it like that?” Rhys asked.
“No.” It had been so long since she’d opened the glovebox that she didn’t even know what was in there. She kept her vehicle registration and proof of insurance clipped to her visor and her phone charger in the center console. “So I didn’t imagine the noises?”
“Doesn’t look like it,” Rhys said, and she noted his hair was smooshed and the shirt peeking out of his jacket was inside out. He must’ve come straight from bed.
“What do you think they were looking for?” Gabe asked.
“Cash, a credit card, I don’t know.” She checked to make sure her stereo was still there, then scanned the space behind her back seat. Her sweater, a pair of gym shoes, and a nylon shopping bag didn’t appear to have been touched. “You probably interrupted them before they could steal anything.”
“Take another look and tell me if you see anything missing,” Rhys said, and began taking pictures of the glovebox and the stuff spilling out.
“I don’t keep valuables in my truck.” Not since moving to LA. “You think it was kids, screwing around?” She couldn’t imagine anyone breaking into cars in Nugget.
Rhys and Gabe exchanged glances.
“Could be,” Rhys said. “Were you able to make anything out in the dark?”
“Not a thing. But they were loud enough to wake me.”
Gabe turned to look at the house, which was still dark. In her haste to answer the door, she hadn’t even turned on the porch light.
“Whoever it was probably thought no one was home,” he said. “Just about everyone in town knew Logan and Annie were going on their honeymoon.”
“Nothing appears to be missing.” Even so, Raylene was creeped out that a stranger had pawed through her stuff and nervous about being here alone.
Rhys walked around her Ford, sweeping his flashlight over the ground. “Come see this,” he told Gabe.
They both crouched down in the snow, and Raylene went over to see what had caught their attention.
“Footprints,” Gabe said. “It looks like two different sizes.”
“How do you know they’re not yours and mine?” She and Gabe had crossed the driveway several times as they’d loaded his SUV for their treasure hunt that morning.
“Because there wasn’t snow on the ground when we walked here.”
Good point. She hadn’t thought of that. Gabe and Rhys exchanged another glance, and she was starting to get the feeling that they knew something she didn’t.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing. I’m just thinking whoever it is also has our pickax.”
The possibility hadn’t entered her mind, but she supposed two crimes in one day wasn’t a coincidence. And suddenly she was struck with the idea that this might not be random. “Do you think I’m being targeted?” Perhaps these were pranks to scare her and get her to leave town sooner.
On
second thought, it didn’t seem like the Rodriguezes’ style, and they were the ones with the biggest ax to grind against her. Tomorrow, she planned to put a check in their mailbox for Tawny’s damaged dress. Perhaps she’d go straight to their house and ask them face to face.
Rhys combed his hand through his hair. “Let’s just keep our eyes out, okay? Tomorrow morning, someone will come by to take prints. Would you mind staying out of your truck until then?”
“I guess.” She didn’t like the idea of being without wheels. She’d wanted to start searching for the gold first thing in the morning and had to meet with Dana at some point in the day. “You think it’s that big of a deal?” As far as she could tell, the thieves hadn’t even gotten anything.
“You never know” was all Rhys said. He turned to Gabe before heading to his police vehicle. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Roger that. Thanks for coming out.”
Rhys waved his hand in the air, got in his SUV, and drove away.
Gabe walked over and shined a flashlight on her flannel pajama bottoms and lifted his brows. The pants had little horses on them and said, “I’d rather be riding.”
“They’re warm.” She’d stopped wearing sexy lingerie around the time Butch started making her skin crawl.
“They look hot with the boots.”
She rolled her eyes.
Gabe’s mouth slid up. “Let’s go inside, it’s freezing out here.”
He slung his arm over her shoulder and guided her up the stairs with his light. “You okay?”
“Just a little weirded out.” She flipped on the heat as soon as they got inside. Before she’d gone to bed she’d turned it off, and it was nearly as cold in the house as it had been outside. “Can you stay the night?”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice gruff. Raylene waited for one of his standard-guy come-on lines, but he just opened the door, turned on the light switch, and headed for the kitchen. “Is there anything to eat?”
“Tons. What are you in the mood for?”
He glanced at her, letting his caramel eyes take a stroll down her body, then quickly turned away. “Some of that smoked ham from the wedding.”
