by Meryl Sawyer
Christ! Was he good, or what? He actually sounded convincing.
His gaze shifted to Pop, whose head canted slightly to one side as if he didn't want to miss a single word. "I realized other children attended school, but I did not. Mom claimed it was because we moved so often, and she could teach me better."
"What did your father do?" Kelly asked.
"He took any job he could get. He said he had wanderlust and wanted to see the whole country." Logan shrugged. "I was much older before I realized we moved constantly to stay ahead of the bill collectors."
"You never attended school—not ever?" Kelly's tone echoed her incredulous expression.
He leaned forward and helped himself to another appetizer, subtlety craning his neck to get a better view of the gentle rise of her breasts barely visible above the scoop neck of her dress. "I never attended school until I joined the Marines. I got my high school certificate then."
Zoe's "lessons" did not count in his mind. She had taught him to read and write, and she'd even managed to see that he knew a little geography. But she specialized in making his life miserable. Everything he'd really learned, he'd taught himself by reading the books around the camp.
He caught the sympathetic look in Pop's eye and cursed himself under his breath. He didn't mind lying to reporters. They were all bottom feeders, ready to do anything to get a story.
But Pop was different. Just having a drink with him had impressed Logan. Still, he didn't want to tell anyone about The Last Chance Camp where he'd really grown up.
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
Hell, he was strong now. Let Amanda McCord live her life. His mother deserved that much. Zoe, his "teacher" had died just before he enlisted—not that he would ever have protected her.
"What about the Mapleton, California address you put on your enlistment papers?" Kelly asked. "No McCords ever lived there, as far as I could discover."
He managed a half-smile, not particularly shocked at her ferreting out this information. Not only was she pretty, Kelly was a crack reporter. "We passed through Mapleton once when I was about sixteen. We spent several nights in an abandoned trailer there. When I enlisted, I used that address."
Kelly frowned. "Recruiting officers are supposed to check the facts."
"How many actually verify addresses? What they're concerned about is legal problems that arise if they accept underage recruits. I had a midwife's certificate, and I looked older than eighteen when I enlisted."
"You never suspected you might not be the McCords' child?" Pop asked.
"The thought never crossed my mind."
"That's a shame," Pop told him. "You could have been raised here and had all the advantages the Stanfield—"
"Forget it. I'm lucky the McCords found me. Do you seriously believe the Stanfield money has made Alyx and Tyler better people?" He couldn't bank the sarcasm in his tone. "Tyler's a cocky jerk and his sister is a total bitch. People think Alyx is window shopping, but she's just admiring her reflection."
Kelly tried to hide her smile, but he noticed it. The Stanfield twins were the epitome of conceit and arrogance. Hard to believe the same blood flowed in his veins.
Thank God for his mother. Amanda McCord's genes made him what he was today.
"I'm happy with my past, and with my life now. I just want to get through this half-assed press conference and go back to my job."
"You said you wouldn't be able to rejoin the Cobra Force," Kelly reminded him.
He concealed how much this bothered him by kicking back the last of his tequila before answering. "So? I'll find something interesting to do."
"Logan, what about the McCords?" Pop asked. "I don't believe there is a statute of limitation on kidnapping. They could face criminal charges."
No way was he letting anything happen to his mother. Granted, she'd been a piss-poor excuse for a mother. Make it on your own or die trying, she often told him, using one of her brother, Jake's, favorite lines. For the life of him, he didn't know why he was protecting her.
Amanda and Jake McCord had started The Last Chance Camp. They marched to a beat of a different drummer that was for damn sure, but he didn't want a tsunami wave of reporters descending on the camp. If his mother and uncle wanted to rot their lives away out in bum-fuck, let them.
"The last I saw of the McCords, they were heading for Mexico. Dad said you could live on less down there."
"When was that?" Kelly asked.
"Just before I joined the Marines. They gave me a choice. I could head to Mexico with them, or strike out on my own."
"Do you hear from them?" Concern colored every word Pop uttered, and Logan knew this man loved Kelly far too much to ever understand the people who had raised him.
"I don't know where to find them, and they don't know where I am."
Kelly glanced at her grandfather, and Logan could almost hear her thinking how fortunate she'd been to have him raise her. And love her. She hadn't a clue about how lucky she really was.
"Logan, do you know who your natural mother is?" Kelly asked. "Did Woody Stanfield tell you?"
He brushed the hair off his forehead, trying not to appear irritated by her question. "She was some woman who had a short affair with the senator. She blackmailed my old man into adopting me."
They both appeared concerned by his confession. Okay, so it was a half-truth. Close enough for government work.
"I'm going to help Uma serve the main course so she can go home to her family," Kelly said, rising to her feet, giving Logan an enticing glimpse of her legs in the short skirt. "Should we eat out here or inside?"
"Out here," Pop said. "Soon it'll be too cool to dine outside."
Logan glanced around the terrace suspended over Oak Creek. The water swirling over the chunky stones in the riverbed produced a rhythmic sound that soothed most people's nerves. Not Logan.
He knew better than to let his guard down. His hand dropped to his side to make certain his backpack was still beside his chair while he scanned the thick bushes along the creek. Craggy vermilion boulders were barely visible through the shrubbery. Anyone could hide in the creek's underbrush, but it would be impossible to spot him without alarming Pop by pulling out the night vision binoculars Logan had in his backpack.
"I'll bet I can guess what happened when the Stanfields saw you," Pop said as Kelly disappeared into the kitchen. "Ginger became hysterical and Benson Williams was downright hostile. The twins kept their distance while their father did his best to smooth things over."
"Were you a fly on the wall that morning when I knocked on the Stanfield's door?"
"No, but I've known them long enough to realize how they would treat you. You're an unexpected chink in Woody's political armor." Pop's crown of white hair glistened in the amber glow of the Spanish lanterns lighting the terrace. "The twins are scared spitless that they'll have to share the family fortune with you. Ginger grasps at any excuse to go off the deep end and get attention. Benson Williams once again comes to the rescue, putting the proper spin on events."
Logan couldn't help asking, "Haywood—my father—seems very intelligent and forceful, yet he allows Benson Williams to call the shots. Why?"
"Who knows? Benson's been a family fixture for years. He's never married; instead he devoted his life to Haywood's political career. Some people say he has something on the senator. Other people claim he and Ginger are lovers. I don't know what's going on."
Kelly backed out the door, carrying a tray. Uma followed her, holding another tray laden with food. Logan's stomach grumbled like distant thunder. God willing, he'd eaten his last lizard. Pop described the shrimp in caldillo sauce with cactus, explaining caldillo was a gravy made from chilies. Shrimp was one of Logan's favorites.
Shrimp with cactus? Aw, hell. Cactus reminded him of survival missions. Nothing like being dropped in the desert and having to find food and water on your own. Eating a cactus was a necessity. Why pair it with shrimp?
"Help yourself," Pop told
Logan, and he did, barely managing to thank Uma and tell her good night before plunging his fork into the mixture.
The cactus and shrimp in caldillo sauce was kick-ass good! Surviving in the desert would never seem the same. The shrimp and cactus dish was even better than Twinkies—his very favorite food.
He caught Kelly staring at him and realized he was gobbling as if he were starving—another legacy of life at The Last Chance Camp. Food was always scarce. You wolfed down your meal before someone snatched it away from you.
He winked at Kelly. That got her. She smiled, or tried to, then concentrated on her own food. Logan forced himself to slow down, which was still hard for him.
"How did your father treat you when you showed up after all this time?" Kelly asked him.
Logan put down his fork, having cleaned his plate, and told himself not to help himself to seconds until they were offered. "The family anticipated meeting 'little lost Logan.' No one expected to see a dead-ringer for Haywood Stanfield. All they cared about was the impact this would have on the senator's political career."
"How did you feel when you met your father face-to-face?" Kelly asked.
"It was a shock, but I'd had a couple of days to adjust to the fact that the McCords weren't my natural parents." Logan vividly recalled the door opening and his father standing there. He'd wanted to kill the bastard, but he couldn't say that. "When I saw my old man, I knew what I would look like in twenty-five years."
"What did you tell them about your past?" Kelly said.
He shrugged as if it didn't matter, but he was still pissed big-time. The Stanfields hadn't given a damn about him. All they'd cared about was the impact his reappearance would have on their political fortunes. "Not much. They assumed someone had found me in the ravine and kept quiet about it. I told them a couple raised me until I enlisted."
"That's all they asked?" Kelly's surprise was echoed by Pop's angry expression.
"It was damage control time," Logan assured her. "I didn't matter."
Logan noticed the way Pop's eyes narrowed and wondered if the older man suspected he wasn't telling the whole truth. Kelly seemed to accept his explanation. The next question came from her sexy lips without missing a beat.
"What are you going to say at the press conference tomorrow afternoon?"
"Not a damn thing. Let Benson give his version, which attempts to keep my father in the good graces of the voting public. I told them I would pose with the family for one—just one—picture. Then I'm gone."
"Son," Pop said, leaning toward him. "You'll have to outrun a media gauntlet. It'll be impossible to get away easily."
Normally, anyone calling him "son" would have pissed-off Logan, but concern etched Pop's lined face. There was no doubting his sincere interest in Logan's predicament. It was almost touching, but Logan steeled himself. No way should he get close to these two.
"There'll be movie and television offers," Kelly added. "Oprah will want you on her show. You won't be able to refuse."
"Watch me."
* * *
As soon as Kelly had served them warm apple tartan for dessert, she'd excused herself, saying she needed to write the story.
"You're coming with me to the press conference tomorrow," Logan said as she left the table.
"I wasn't invited. I—"
"I'm asking you. I know you'll want to see everything yourself."
"If I'm going to scoop everyone, I have to have my story in New York by the morning. Television instantly reports news, but magazines need lead time. Exposé is usually printed late Friday night and shipped Saturday so it can be on the stands across the country on Monday morning."
Logan nodded, and she couldn't help noticing the long sweep of his eyelashes. On another man, they might have been feminine, but the dense black lashes made Logan's eyes sexy. "If you're with me, no one will suspect that you've already filed your story. I'm not allowing anyone but you to interview me."
An exclusive, a golden opportunity, she thought, so why was she suspicious? Her past experience with an unreliable source had snuffed a very promising career. Worse, a woman had taken her life because Kelly had pushed and pushed to get the article printed.
Without verification.
Something in Logan's story didn't quite ring true. It was a plausible explanation, accounting for why he hadn't attended school and had no records of his past. But still … something was missing.
What if the Stanfields told a completely different story? The past would repeat itself.
"I can hardly wait to hear Benson Williams spin this." Kelly suddenly remembered Logan was here without a car, and she didn't have the time to take him back. "Pop, do you feel well enough to drive Logan into town?"
Before Pop could answer, Logan said, "Don't bother. I have my things with me, I'll hike out into the country and make camp there."
Kelly waved one hand toward the military-style backpack Logan had kept beside his chair throughout dinner. "Do you have enough in there to camp?"
"Everything I own is in my pack." He patted the bulky canvas in a way that was oddly affectionate. "People lug around far more than they really need."
Kelly banked an astonished gasp as Pop said, "Stay here tonight. We have two casitas on the property. Kelly's in one; you can use the other."
Logan hesitated, and Kelly quickly added, "It would be perfect. Then I won't have to find you for the press conference tomorrow."
"All right … thanks," Logan said, but Kelly had the distinct impression he would rather camp under the stars and hone his survival skills.
Kelly kissed Pop good-night, then rushed out to her casita leaving the men to their coffee. Somewhere in the cottonwoods behind the main house, an owl hooted … once … twice.
She knew the owl was hunting, counting on the noise to make a rabbit nervous. As soon as the creature left the cover of the thicket of mountain mahogany, the owl would pounce. When she opened the door to her bungalow, the owl was still trying to lure out his prey.
She flicked on the light, thinking how much she loved her grandfather, and how much she owed him. Not only had he taken care of her financially, he'd given her a sense of values and an appreciation of nature. As a child, he taken her on hikes throughout the area, explaining the geologic formations that made Sedona unique and teaching her about all the creatures that shared the area.
Kelly rushed into the darkroom she'd set up in the closet when she'd first taken up photography in high school. The equipment had been purchased secondhand, but it worked nicely. Just last week, she'd developed two rolls of film she'd taken of Pop with Jasper.
She carefully developed the shots of Logan McCord, then she studied the negatives with a magnifying cube. Using a red chinagraph, she circled seven shots. One of them showed a smiling Logan with Jasper.
She concentrated on that negative first and cropped some of the background. Saying a prayer, she slipped a sheet of bromide paper into the frame then clicked the print button. She removed it and kept her eyes on her watch's second hand. Fifty-nine seconds seemed like eternity. She carefully removed it. Next came the stopper, then the fixer.
As she pulled it out of its last chemical bath, she cried, "Oh my God!"
She hung it up to dry, then dashed into the central living area where a Santa Fe-style bed and trastero dominated the room. Struggling to contain her excitement, she rushed up to the open shelf cupboard where her books and pictures filled the shelves and picked up the telephone.
* * *
Chapter 7
« ^ »
Kelly couldn't keep the smile out of her voice when a very sleepy Matthew Jensen answered the telephone. "I have the story of the year."
"Kelly? Is that you? What story?"
"Senator Stanfield's adopted son, remember?"
"Oh, yeah." Matt sounded less than interested. "That story."
Didn't this scoop mean a lot to him? He'd come all the way out to see her with it.
"I've interviewed Logan McCord. I have pic
tures you won't believe."
"Really?" Matt perked up. "How'd you manage that?"
She couldn't very well say Logan had walked into her office. It wouldn't sound as if she'd done a first-rate job of investigative reporting. "It's a long story."
"Great! I knew you were the one to write this article."
"Matt, you aren't going to believe this. Who do you think Logan is?" She didn't wait for him to respond. "Haywood's illegitimate son. Logan looks exactly—exactly—like the senator."
"You're kidding. Do you know what this could do to Stanfield's chances of becoming president?"
Kelly sank down into the chair beside the trastero. "Lots of presidents have gotten away with worse especially in these last few years. Infidelity isn't an issue—"
"Unless you're an ultra-conservative like Stanfield who built his career hawking family values. His supporters won't be thrilled to learn about Logan."
"So it'll be a hot story. Add to that the interest the public will have in a child who disappears, then is found years later." Kelly's voice could not conceal her mounting excitement. "The pictures I have of Logan today are fantastic. He's not the guy in the passport photo you gave me. He's drop-dead good-looking with a killer smile. Put him on the cover and you'll have your best-selling issue of the year."
The silence from the other end of the line made her wonder if the connection had been broken. Finally, Matt spoke, his voice flat. "Kelly, is McCord another lost soul?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well…" The hitch in his voice upset her. "Daniel Taylor spent his youth in foster homes. He was a lost soul when you rescued him."
Kelly gazed at her favorite picture of Daniel, not knowing what to say. She had thought her future was with Matt until Daniel appeared, and she fell for him with all her heart. His death had taken the light out of her life, the song out of her heart.
