by Pat Warren
“Good.” He told her about their visit, leaving out the fall since he was sure Rachel wouldn’t want that to get around, and ended with the mayor’s arrival and his less-than-enthusiastic welcome.
Gina put the television on mute, noticing that her husband alongside her in their king-size bed was already sound asleep. “I’d heard that Ellis Montgomery wasn’t for change or disturbances, that he liked the status quo. I don’t know Rachel well at all, but she didn’t strike me as the type who’d knuckle under. Did she?”
Jack stretched out on the bed, cradling the phone in the crook of his neck. “Not at all. She’s spunky, stood right up to him, but in a respectful way even though he was downright insulting.” Especially, he reminded himself, the unnecessary remark about her entertaining in her robe.
“I feel bad for Rachel having to dredge up all the gossip about Christina,” Gina said.
“Was she as wild as Rachel said?”
“I haven’t been here all that long, as you know, but everyone says she had a whole string of boyfriends. She was a beauty, so it’s small wonder.”
“There’re lots of beautiful women in the world and they don’t all become wild. What do you think did it for Christina?”
“Several things I’ve heard. Her sister, the one ally in the house leaving, then her mother dying. Her father and brother not warm, fuzzy people. Suddenly she blossomed physically and men noticed. Probably went to her head. A sad story.”
“Yeah, it is. Rachel’s not like that at all. She’s attractive, but she seems very grounded. Almost too responsible. I think she feels guilty for not being there for her sister and now wants the baby so she can make amends.”
“I agree. I hope you can point out that Christina’s spiral down was no one person’s fault.” Gina paused, and Jack could hear her readjusting her pillows. “Did you two hit it off?”
Did he detect a hint of matchmaking in his sister’s tone? Gina had been trying to get him to quit the L.A. rat race and join her in heavenly Montana—her words, not his—ever since her marriage. “Oh, yeah. She fell for me like a ton of bricks.” He smiled at the private joke.
“Oh, you! Be nice to her, Jack. I think she’s hurting. And no funny business, eh?”
“Funny business?” He feigned indignation. “You wound me, Gina. You think I’d rush into town and coax a vulnerable woman into my bed just for sport?”
“Yes, I think that’s a fair assessment. Reel in your libido. I live in this town.”
Though he was eight years older than his sister, now that Gina was married, she seemed intent on keeping him on the straight and narrow, something that amused Jack no end. “I’ll keep that in mind. I’d better hit the hay now. I’m picking her up at eight for breakfast at the Hip Hop.”
“So you are taking the case?”
“Just until I can get Rachel Montgomery into the sack,” he said, knowing his statement would get a rise out of her.
“Stop that! I mean it.”
“Just kidding. I’ll behave. I’ll drop in soon. Say hi to Trent for me. Good night.”
Jack hung up the phone thoughtfully. He had been kidding for, as attractive as Rachel undoubtedly was beneath that silly robe, he had an ironclad rule about not mixing business and pleasure. One he had yet to break.
Of course, there was always a first time.
Two
Despite the early hour, the Hip Hop was hopping. Coffeepots were passed around, emptied and refilled often; bacon, eggs and pancakes hissed on the griddle, and Willie Nelson twanged from the jukebox about going on the road again. Rachel led Jack to a back booth where they could observe without being in the front line.
Of course, as the new man in town, Jack was given the once-over from every table, heads turning, folks conjecturing. When someone remembered seeing him at Gina’s wedding, they next speculated as to why he was back in Whitehorn and what he was doing with Rachel Montgomery.
“Small towns,” Jack commented, picking up the plastic-covered menu as he watched first this person then that send him a curious look. “They’re all alike. Knowing everyone else’s business is more than a hobby or pastime. It’s an obsession.”
“Yes, it’s one of the reasons I moved away,” Rachel answered, studying her menu, realizing it had scarcely changed over the years. “Buckwheat pancakes. Can’t find those on just any menu.”
Jack decided the view across from him was far more interesting than the menu. Rachel Montgomery cleaned up well, he thought, his lips twitching. More than well. The sun drifting in through the picture windows brought out the red highlights in her shoulder-length brown hair, making it look a lot different than last night.
Her outfit was a far cry from her ratty robe, too. She had on a gray wool sweater with black pleated and cuffed slacks that he was certain no store in Whitehorn was selling. The only jewelry she wore was a ring on her right hand, a black pearl set in chunky gold. But it was her eyes that captivated him—dark blue, almost midnight-blue, eyes a man could drown in.
It occurred to Jack that the heads that had turned were probably looking at Rachel rather than at him.
“Menus can tell you a lot about a place and a location,” he commented, dragging his attention away from her. “Mahimahi in Hawaii. Dim sum in Hong Kong. Lamb in New Zealand.”
Rachel raised her eyes to his face and noticed for the first time the small scar on his chin. It gave him a rakish look, a dangerous bent. “You’ve been to all those places?”
“And many more, courtesy of Uncle Sam. I was in the navy for four years. They’re right. You get to see the world, although not exactly first-class.”
A waitress came over, interrupting their conversation to bring water and setups and to take their order. Because she lingered, Rachel introduced Janie Carson Austin to Jack. As the waitress/manager walked away, Rachel smiled. “She probably wanted to verify your name since she’s being asked who the new man in town is.”
“And here I thought they were all buzzing about you,” he told her. “You look terrific this morning.”
“In contrast to last night, you mean? Anything would be an improvement, I’m sure.”
“Oh, I don’t know. That robe kind of grows on you. And the slippers—they’re collectibles, I’ll bet.”
She cocked her head at his teasing tone. “Are you making fun of me?”
He held up a hand, palm-out, and shook his head. “Heaven forbid. But your outfit sure set your dad off.”
She felt the need to explain a little about her family. “We had a rule when I was growing up, you see. No one left his room unless fully clothed. My mother was a stickler for protocol. She came from this socially prominent family and manners were of the utmost importance to her. As for Dad, he never paid much attention to any rule, until last night, scolding me as if I were seventeen instead of twenty-seven. Apparently, you’re always a child to your parents.”
“Did he ask you any questions this morning?” Or maybe apologize?
“He was gone by the time I went downstairs. Is your father overly protective or overly nosy, or does that happen only in my family?” All right, so she was curious about him. She felt the need to get to know him a bit if they were going to be working closely together, especially since he’d soon know a great deal about her family.
Jack shrugged. “I don’t know much about fathers since mine deserted us when I was twelve and Gina only four. My mother remarried when I was eighteen, moved to L.A. and took Gina with her, at which time I rushed off and joined the navy.” He’d left out a lot, but then, he’d never been one to talk much about himself, especially to someone he’d just met.
“Do you see your mother often?” She was curious whether or not he was a loving son or an indifferent one, although it was none of her business really.
“Not often. She’s made a new life for herself and seems happy enough.”
A private man who didn’t want to reveal too much, Rachel decided. Maybe he had some skeletons in his closets. We all have a few, she thou
ght.
Their breakfasts arrived—bacon, eggs and toast for Jack and an English muffin and coffee for Rachel. Spreading jam on his toast, he glanced at her skimpy fare. “Do you always eat like a bird?”
“No. I usually have fruit with my muffin, but there wasn’t any on the menu.”
“Oh, well, that’s different.” He took a hearty taste, then glanced around the room casually, thinking everyone should be through discussing them by now. “So, is there anyone here you’d like to tell me about, someone who might know something about our case?”
The door opened just then and an attractive couple walked in from the cold, the woman a willowy, dark-haired beauty and the man in a sheriff’s deputy uniform. Rachel caught the man’s eye and waved. “That’s Sloan Ravencrest and Crystal Cobb.”
Jack reached for a piece of bacon and glanced over his shoulder. “The deputy and one of the women who have visions, right?”
“Yes, and her aunt, Winona, is in the far booth, where they’re headed.”
For a moment or two Jack studied the older woman wearing some sort of long filmy dress before commenting. “She live around here?”
“Outside of town in a trailer. She has a junkyard business called Stop-n-Swap. Does fairly well, from what I hear. She’s the psychic I spoke to about Christina’s baby.”
Jack took a swallow of coffee. “And you believe her?”
“I want to. I want to believe that child’s alive and being well taken care of until I can find him or her.”
“And then what?” he asked.
It was Rachel’s turn to shrug. “I’m not sure. I only know I want that baby. She belongs with us.”
There was no “us,” Jack wanted to remind her. Ellis Montgomery didn’t seem the sort who’d welcome his dead daughter’s illegitimate child. Not politically correct. He’d yet to meet Max, but Rachel had said her brother usually agreed with their father. So it would be all her.
“Would you give up your job in Chicago, move back here and raise the child? Or would you take the baby there and fit it into your life? And what if the father shows up?”
Wiping her mouth on the paper napkin, Rachel leaned back. “I guess I’ll face those issues when I must. For now, your job is to find that baby.”
“Okay.” He finished his coffee and signaled for the check. “No one else in here I should know about?”
Rising, Rachel shook her head. Walking to the door, she heard her name called and turned to see an old high school friend, Connie Emerson, just finishing her breakfast. Rachel leaned down for a quick hug. “How are you, Connie?” she asked.
“Doing okay.” Still single, like Rachel, Connie had left Whitehorn and gone to Billings for a couple of years, but she’d come back. “I heard about Christina. I’m so sorry, Rachel.”
“Thanks. It was quite a shock.” She’d seen Connie when she’d been in Whitehorn in September, but only briefly. “Did you know she was pregnant?”
Connie’s dark brown eyes were serious. “Yes. I haven’t heard—did they find the child?”
Rachel shook her head, then nodded toward Jack who was at the cash register paying the bill. “I’ve hired a private investigator to find the baby.”
“Oh?” Connie glanced at the tall man, then raised a brow. “Nice. How long are you staying this time? Can we get together for dinner or a drink?” Connie, who worked at the Whitehorn Insurance Agency, lived in a condo on the outskirts of town.
Rachel noticed that Jack was finished and waiting for her. “I’ll be here awhile. I’ll call you.” They’d kept in touch by mail and the occasional call, but Rachel couldn’t help thinking it would be fun to have a long visit with an old friend. Girl talk might take her mind off the reason she was in Whitehorn.
Following Jack outside, Rachel buttoned her leather jacket against the cold and saw Jack do the same.
“Where to?” he asked, wondering if last night’s schedule had changed.
“Let’s go visit my brother at his bank,” she answered, sliding into his sleek gray Lincoln. Her stomach in knots at the thought, Rachel was glad she hadn’t had a large breakfast. She was certain that Ellis had already contacted Max and probably exaggerated last evening’s events. She was not in the mood for more criticism just now.
Maybe Max would surprise her and be welcoming.
Max Montgomery kept them waiting for exactly half an hour.
By the time his fiftyish secretary said that Mr. Montgomery would see them now and ushered them down the carpeted hallway, Rachel was fuming inside but apologetic on the outside.
“He’s very busy, I’m sure,” she whispered to Jack. “I knew we should have called first, but I didn’t.”
He leaned down to her. “Do you always take the blame on your own shoulders for things that are out of your control?”
Frowning up at him, she wondered if that was how he saw her. And then wondered if she did have a habit of doing that.
Walking in through the door Mrs. Redden, the secretary, held open, Rachel greeted her brother as she strolled over to his large cherrywood desk. The office wasn’t huge, but well appointed, the focal point being the back wall of floor-to-ceiling windows with a great view of the mountains in the distance. Max had remodeled the room since her father had used it, choosing plush gray carpeting and muted blue chairs.
“Good morning, Rachel,” Max said, then turned his gaze to her companion.
They were fairly matched in height and weight, Jack thought, approaching. Rachel’s brother had black hair worn short, a square, handsome face and steely blue eyes that displayed all the warmth of a Montana winter. He was wearing a well-cut black suit with a white shirt and striped tie. Make that a bolo tie and add a vest and he’d be his father’s clone, Jack thought as he held out his hand.
“I’m Jack Henderson. Thanks for seeing us on such short notice,” Jack said, relieved when Max reached over to shake hands. Since he hadn’t exactly hit it off with Ellis, he’d like not to start off on the wrong foot with his son. “It’s good of you to take time from your busy day.” However, he couldn’t help noticing that the only things on Max’s desk were a gold pen set, a blotter and a phone. No framed pictures, no papers or file folders.
“I’ve met your sister,” Max said. “She’s very nice.” To say nothing of her husband’s several accounts at the Whitehorn Savings and Loan, Jack muttered to himself.
“Please, sit down,” Max said, sitting back in his leather chair, his cool gaze moving to Rachel. “I thought Dad told you we didn’t need a private investigator, that we should leave the matter to the professionals.”
So he’d already talked with Dad and knew who Jack was, Rachel noted. “The police and the sheriff’s department in this town couldn’t locate Christina in three months. Jack’s a professional, too, with eight years’ experience on the L.A.P.D. and five with his own firm.”
Jack decided he’d let them duke it out while he studied Max.
“It would seem you’ve made up your mind, then.” Leaning back, Max braced his elbows on the armrests and steepled his fingers as he eyed Jack. “What do you need from me?”
Jack crossed his legs, feigning casual relaxation in the face of Max’s posture of self-importance. “Anything you think might help us to learn more about Christina’s habits…who her friends were, places she frequented, that sort of thing.”
“I’m twelve years older than Christina, Mr. Henderson. We hardly had the same circle of friends. She was popular, that I’m sure you’ve heard. After our mother died, she moved out of Dad’s house and didn’t want much to do with either of us. That’s about it.”
“Did you try, Max?” Rachel asked quietly. “Did you try to get close to her?”
The flush of anger colored his handsome features, and something else. Resentment or perhaps guilt. “Did you?” he parried.
“Not enough, I regret to say.”
“Exactly.” Max shot his cuffs and checked his slim gold watch. “I’m afraid I’ve got a meeting in thirty seconds. I�
�m sorry.”
Jack thanked him and shook hands again while Rachel walked out without another word. They were seated in Jack’s Lincoln before either of them spoke.
“That went well, don’t you think?” Jack asked, hoping to lighten her mood.
Staring out the car window unseeingly, Rachel shook her head. “I don’t know whatever happened to the big brother I used to adore.”
“Hard to tell what goes wrong in families,” Jack said, turning on the engine so the heater would kick in. A Californian, he wasn’t crazy about the cold weather. “Sometimes people just grow up and change, or we don’t notice their true personalities until we’re older.” For a moment he wondered if Gina had ever felt that he’d changed, perhaps after he’d been discharged from the navy. He surely had when he’d quit the police force, having seen far too much brutality, man’s inhumanity to man. Yet the changes in him hadn’t seemed to affect his relationship with Gina.
“No, something happened when Max was away at college. Up to then, he was a happy guy, laughing, rarely serious. I know he got involved with a woman up there.” Rachel knew firsthand how tragic college romances could be. Take her and Richard’s— No, she would not go there. She’d keep focused on Max. “I don’t know what happened between them. When he came home, he was a changed man and not for the better.”
“Don’t worry about it. Since he rarely saw Christina, there’s little he could tell us anyhow.”
“I suppose you’re right.” She sighed, vowing not to let Max spoil the rest of the day.
“Where to next, boss?” he asked jokingly.
She raised a brow as she turned to him. “I thought you told me you had to be in charge?”
“I’m the director, but you’re the boss. Man or woman, the person who pays the freight is the boss.”
He had her smiling at that. She had to admit he looked very L.A. today, with his olive-green silk cashmere sweater that brought out the green of his eyes, his designer jeans and hiking boots. And he wore a leather jacket much like hers. Plus, there was that dynamite smile.
