“It’s good to see all of you,” he lied, looking around. Well, maybe it wasn’t a total lie. He didn’t enjoy much camaraderie with his family members, but it was okay to see them now and then. “And I know something is going on around here, which is why I’m here. But first thing—I’d really like to know how Dad is doing.”
There. That should get them talking. Grayson glanced first toward Ace, who stared at him as if he’d been slugged.
“He’s still alive, at least,” Ainsley said from between them. She clutched her salad fork, then placed it on her plate. “But he remains in a coma.”
At least their father still held his own, Grayson thought. That was a good thing. He wanted to ask about the investigation into the shooting but, for Ace’s sake, hesitated.
Ace spoke up, though. “And in case any of you still wonders if I was the one to shoot him, the answer is no. But I don’t know where the cops stand on their investigation, other than to make assumptions about me because I’d argued with him.”
“An understatement,” laughed Callum. “Oh, I’m not accusing you, bro, but you certainly weren’t pleased when he fired you from Colton Oil.”
“Can you blame me?” Ace countered loudly.
Their adopted brother Rafe, son of the ranch’s old foreman, got into the conversation. “I don’t imagine the cops believe you’re the source of that Arizona State University pin,” he said to Ace. “That’s got to be something in your favor.” The pin, found near their father when he was shot, was considered a possible clue.
“Certainly nothing I had anything to do with, either,” Ace said.
“Besides,” Callum broke in. “So what if Ace wasn’t a Colton by blood? The bylaws should be changed. And one of the reasons I wanted to get you all together was to give an update on our investigation into who actually was the baby Ace was swapped with.”
For nearly the rest of the meal, Grayson listened to the discussion going on.
Callum had narrowed in on Luella, a nurse at the hospital, who had also given birth to a baby on the night of Ace’s birth forty years ago. She had left quickly, allegedly to find better medical care for her baby, since that infant had major medical issues.
No one had yet been able to find Luella to learn any more. One good thing, though, was that the nurse who’d first identified Luella had recently let Callum know she’d finally remembered Luella’s last name: Smith. Of course that wasn’t great news because the name was too common. But Callum hadn’t given up.
The conclusion at the end of dinner that night? The search continued. Callum told them he’d tracked every Luella Smith in Arizona and bordering states. Three had seemed like possibilities because of their ages. But none had panned out.
“The last time Luella Smith seemed to have existed was on Christmas Day forty years ago,” Callum said, “and then she vanished off the face of the earth. There’s no birth record of her son, since those records were destroyed in the hospital fire. And since she apparently switched babies and took one that wasn’t hers, she must have forged a birth certificate for him.”
“She must have taken on a fake name, don’t you think?” Grayson asked.
“Yes, that’s what we think,” Ainsley replied. “And we’ll find her one day, somehow, someway. Turning over rocks always reveals something.”
Grayson’s siblings had also begun trying to track down the other babies born locally on Christmas morning forty years ago by checking through newspaper microfiches and doing online searches. Maybe one of them was the real, missing Ace Colton.
Well, Callum had said that one reason why this dinner had been called was to let them all know the status of the search. And it was an interesting update, kind of.
Fortunately, the meal included some great-tasting steaks. When Grayson finished eating, he tried to excuse himself.
He wanted to return to his office and do a bit more research.
His intention was to hurry to see Savannah in the morning, let her know what he had already found and discuss with her what to do next—although he figured he knew.
But before they let him go, Callum said to him, “You can’t leave yet. We all want to hear more about how our first responder brother did after the earthquake—and the man you found dead.”
Grayson remained seated and refrained from rolling his eyes. A lot of this had already appeared in the media.
But this was his family, so he described how he had found the crushed transport van with the dead driver.
“But the back was empty inside, right?” Ainsley asked.
“That’s right,” Grayson agreed.
“But they said there’d been someone inside being transported,” Ainsley pressed. “Savannah Oliver, right? She’d been arrested for murdering her husband and was on her way back to prison from the courthouse.”
“That’s what I understand.” Grayson tried not to grit his teeth.
“That whole situation is sad,” Marlowe said. “I’ve known Savannah for a long time—Savannah Murphy. Some of you have, too, right?” She looked at Ainsley, who nodded. “She’s a nice person. I find it really hard to believe she’s a murderer.”
An accused murderer, Grayson wanted to say but kept quiet. He didn’t want them to figure out he even knew Savannah, let alone that he was attempting to help her.
“People snap and do terrible things sometimes,” Ainsley said. “But I have to agree with you, Marlowe. I find it hard to believe that Savannah’s a killer.”
That, at least, was good, Grayson thought. And fortunately the topic of conversation moved to how Colton Oil was doing now that their dad Payne wasn’t in charge of even his executive staff. Marlowe was now CEO. And Rafe was CFO.
Which was of some interest to Grayson, but not much. Especially since all seemed to be going relatively well.
“No dessert for me,” he said a little while later as the staff began clearing plates and bringing out sweets. “I’ve got to get on the move.” He ignored the irritation on his siblings’ faces as he left. “See you again soon,” he said—lying somewhat again.
He was interested in what they might eventually discover about their missing oldest sibling, so he might meet up with one or more of them again soon about that.
And he wanted to stay informed about how their father was doing.
But otherwise—well, he wasn’t hanging out in the dining room here. He was going back to his wing to spend the night.
So he could get up early the next morning—and head for a certain fisherman’s cabin.
* * *
Savannah’s eyes popped open. What time was it? Daylight poured into the cabin through its multiple windows, illuminating its shabby but utilitarian contents that she had come to know too well.
She thrust the sheet off and sat up in bed. She had actually slept last night, at least for a while. Amazing!
She wore a long T-shirt, the one that had been in the bag she had rescued. It felt good to get out of the other clothes she’d been wearing pretty much all the time since her flight from the van—and before.
And with luck, she would be able to convince Grayson to buy her the things she had listed to help turn her into someone who appeared quite different from the fugitive Savannah Oliver. That would include utilitarian nightwear of her own.
Before leaving the bed, she sat there listening for any sound that could have awakened her. There were a few birds tweeting outside, but nothing suggested she was about to have any human visitors.
Unfortunately, not even Grayson. But he’d already told her not to expect him that day.
And if he did turn up tomorrow or the next day? Should she really just continue to stay in this cabin waiting for him—and imagining that no one else could find her here?
On that miserable thought, she finally stood and headed toward the bathroom, where she stepped into the shower. She had left her clothes on
the bed, and when she was done washing she dried herself and opened the bathroom door again.
Yesterday, Grayson had been there, and she’d kissed him. She listened once more, just in case, but heard nothing. Saw nothing. And so she got dressed.
She wasn’t especially hungry, but she’d seen some cereal bars with fruit filling that Grayson had brought, and so she took one out of its small box in one of the kitchen cabinets and brought it to the table, along with—what else? A bottle of water. She wished she had caffeine, but with no power here, let alone any kind of coffee maker, she was out of luck.
One of these days, though...especially if she accomplished what she wanted to and started looking like someone who wasn’t her at all. Could she then work directly with Grayson and somehow investigate what had happened to Zane? If not, she would still ask for his advice on how to prove her innocence.
As she was eating, she considered what she would do that day—assuming she didn’t just go crazy and flee this place. But if she did, where would she go?
No, it made more sense to hang out here one more day and see if Grayson did show up tomorrow. Then she could make her request for disguise material, and if he agreed and got what she asked for, that would be the time to leave.
If he showed up.
After all, the men in her life such as Zane, and even Schuyler, had betrayed her. Could she believe that Grayson wouldn’t do so, too?
For now—well, she noticed that her burner phone was fully charged, fortunately. She quickly added more batteries to the list she’d been making, though. She had no idea how long these would last.
Then she decided to take a walk around the cabin for a modicum of exercise before starting whatever research she could come up with on the phone.
She put the phone in her pocket, just in case she needed it, then headed to the door. She opened it, and gasped. Grayson.
Chapter 11
Savannah reached out, grabbed Grayson’s hand and pulled him into the house.
She closed the door behind him and did what she’d vowed never to do again. She hugged him. Tightly. And looked up into his wonderful blue eyes. Which also looked down at her, but only for an instant, until he bent his head...and they kissed.
Oh, what a kiss. Savannah felt Grayson’s hard body against her, his heat surrounding her, his slight beard scratching her face just a little, his—well, she definitely knew that he was as aroused as she.
Bad idea. Bad idea. The words started circulating through her brain even as she pulled him even more tightly against her, her mouth absorbing every heated moment of that kiss.
But this couldn’t go on forever. And that it had happened at all felt foolish.
And amazing...
She gave him one more kiss against that hot mouth of his, the slightest, most wonderful of pressures, then pulled away.
“Wow,” he said, looking at her once more.
“Well, that’s what you get when you show up when you’re not supposed to,” she said, then realized how absurd that sounded. “I mean—”
“I get it,” he said. “And I’ll remember it. Maybe what I should do is tell you each time I come here that you won’t see me again for a while, and then come anyway the next day.”
She made herself scowl at him, though it wasn’t real and he undoubtedly knew it. “I don’t like being lied to—even when the results are...are...well, good ones.” She stepped back even further. “Anyway, why are you here today? I had the impression you had a lot of things to take care of at your office, or whatever.”
“Well, I got quite a bit done after I left here yesterday. And part of it made me want more answers that maybe you can give.”
“Oh,” Savannah said. “What are the questions?”
“We’ll discuss them in a minute,” he said. “For now—well, I’m not sure if you like coffee, but I brewed some in my apartment and brought it in two insulated travel mugs so it’s still hot. And none of my family was around when I left, so no one saw me carrying two, so don’t worry about that. But if you don’t want any, I’ll—”
“I’d love some coffee,” Savannah said, feeling herself smile as if he’d offered her a bag of diamonds.
Diamonds. They made her think of commitments—although she of course no longer wore the one Zane had given her when they’d gotten engaged. She’d kept the ring with the big, expensive jewel, though. It served him right for being such a jerk while they were married.
And that was also part of their negotiated divorce settlement.
Not that it would do her any good now, especially since she had it locked in a safe deposit box at her local bank. She couldn’t just show up there and claim it, even if she got access again to the code to let her in.
Divorce. Relationships. She never wanted another one again, after Zane and his nastiness and infidelities. Not even with a man who looked and kissed like Grayson, who seemed so nice, who was helping her...
Enough.
She looked at Grayson. “Hey, can I come out to your car and help you carry the coffee in?”
“No thanks, but in case you didn’t eat breakfast, or even if you did, I also brought a half dozen doughnuts.”
When things normalized a bit, Savannah figured she’d be able to eat more sensibly, more healthfully. But considering everything, including her mood and lack of much appetite, she doubted she would gain much weight right now.
“Sounds good,” she said, then watched him head back out the door.
She returned to the bathroom again to see what she looked like. She’d used her fingers to comb her hair, as was her norm right now. But even with no makeup, she figured she didn’t look too bad.
Maybe she would look a lot better soon. Or at least a lot different.
Grayson was gone only a few minutes before coming in with two metallic coffee mugs with caps, as well as a plastic bag containing the doughnuts he had mentioned.
They both sat down at their now-regular places at the table. Savannah immediately took a nice, long sip from the mug Grayson placed in front of her. It tasted good, not too strong or too light, and it had maintained a sufficient amount of heat. She closed her eyes for a moment to savor it.
“I gather you don’t mind drinking coffee,” Grayson said.
“Not at all.” But after taking a glazed doughnut from the bag, along with a napkin, Savannah said, “So what brought you here today? What questions do you have?”
“Well, out of curiosity, how did you happen to hire Ian Wright as your lawyer? Did you already have a professional relationship with him?”
“No. I...well, I did have a local lawyer, John Morton, representing me in my divorce. When I recognized that I needed a criminal attorney when...when it appeared that Zane had been killed, I asked him for a referral. He suggested a couple but said that Ian, whose office was also in his building, had experience in different legal areas but had recently successfully defended a client in a murder case in a nearby town. I looked that up on the internet, thought he sounded good, so I called him and he came to see me at my home before the cops came for me, and I hired him.”
“Got it,” Grayson said.
“Why did you ask that?” Savannah felt a bit puzzled.
“Well, I spent some time on the computer yesterday checking into Mr. Wright’s background, as well as Schuyler Wells’s. And funny thing.”
Both curiosity and anticipated dismay rocketed through Savannah. “What?”
“It turned out that your supposed buddy, Schuyler the real estate mogul, had a lawsuit filed against his company a few years ago. Nothing criminal, but a civil suit. And guess who his attorney was?”
“Ian.” Savannah knew better than to turn that into a question—not with the way Grayson was staring at her with both inquisitiveness and compassion. “But...but Ian never mentioned that, despite all the lies about my supposedly having an affair with Sc
huyler leading me to murder Zane.”
“My initial reaction is to assume they were in collusion over this,” Grayson said. He reached across the table and grasped Savannah’s hand with empathy. “Maybe with Zane, too, if he really is alive, though I didn’t find anything specific to make that more than a possibility.”
“So Ian had a reason to not represent me fairly? He was somehow in cahoots at least with Schuyler, and possibly Zane, too? But why? Though that would explain why he wasn’t able to get me out on bail...”
Savannah felt like putting her head down on the table and crying. What was she going to do now? How could she ever prove her attorney was a phony? Especially when she didn’t dare contact the authorities for any reason, at least not at the moment.
“I... I don’t know what to do about that,” she finally said to Grayson.
“I have some thoughts,” he said. “No one is aware that I know where you are, but since I found the van you were in I can certainly express professional curiosity as a first responder. In fact, I have an idea how to introduce myself to your lawyer to see his reaction. I can lie a little and tell Mr. Wright I’ve been hired by local authorities to try to help find you since I did discover the van you were in, plus, thanks to my background, I know the area pretty well. We’ll see what his reaction is to that. But I won’t do it without your okay.”
“You’ve certainly got my okay,” Savannah said, feeling shocked by this new twist on her situation. “I’ll be eager to hear his reaction.”
“I’ll let you know how it goes as soon as I can,” Grayson said.
“I... Things keep getting crazier and crazier.” Savannah shook her head, partly to keep the tears welling in her eyes from falling. “I just don’t know how I’m going to get out of this.”
“We’ll figure it out.” Grayson captured her gaze with his own.
“I wish I could be there when you question my wonderful lawyer. Maybe he really is as good as he tells me, and the fact he once knew Schuyler is irrelevant.”
Colton First Responder (The Coltons 0f Mustang Valley Book 4) Page 11
