lawyer had confessed to Abby that he couldn't do anything for her in a
criminal trial, so Junior had stepped in and arranged things for her.
Bert told her his fee, an amount that stole her breath away, but after
spending a night in the jail cell, Abby would have paid him with her
soul if he could get her out and back to the ranch with Cody.
"The state's case is weak," Bert said. "Mostly circumstantial. The
threats you made, no alibi for the time of the murder, and the missing
button from your blouse."
"The missing button?"
"Apparently a button was found beneath Greg Foxwood's body. The button
came off your blouse."
How was that possible? Fear fluttered through Ab by's stomach. How
was it Possible for her button to be beneath Greg unless . unless
she'd been there?
As Bert went through the arraignment procedure, explaining everything
to Abby, cautioning her to let him do the talking, she wondered if she
should tell him about the night she awoke on the lawn. The phone call
she'd thought was from Greg. She decided against telling him, not
wanting to muddy the waters with things she didn't understand. Besides,
the phone call was obviously a prank, and the other event had merely
been a single incident of stress-induced sleep-walking.
"That should do it," Bert said, rising from the conference table where
they'd been seated. "I'll see you in court in less than an hour."
"Mr. Manigan? You never asked me if I did it." Bert grinned. "I
don't want to know. Guilt or innocence, it's all the same to me. My
job is to see you don't get convicted and I'm damn good at my job."
An hour later Abby pleaded not guilty to the charge of second-degree
murder and Bert argued for a mason able bail to be set. Less than two
hours later she walked out of the jail, a free woman until the date of
her trial set in six weeks' time.
Six weeks of freedom. Six weeks to find a killer, Abby thought as
Junior drove her back 'to the ranch. And if they didn't find a
reasonable doubt that she didn't kill Greg, she'd go to prison for
years. Cody would grow up without a mother and the ranch would be lost
to future generations of Connors.
She nearly laughed aloud at this thought. The ranch was probably
already lost. With her bail and Bert
Manigan's fee, she'd never manage to pull the ranch out of the red.
"Abby, I'm sorry." Junior finally broke the silence that had reigned
during their drive.
"For what? For doing your job?" She offered him a forgiving smile.
"Junior, I don't blame you for this mess. The problem is, I don't know
who to blame."
"Abby, I've been thinking long and hard about this. If you had nothing
to do with Greg's death, then the murderer has to be somebody at your
ranch."
Abby sighed. "I know. I've come to the same conclusion." She thought
of the people at the ranch, her family, the workers whom she'd come to
depend on and trust. "And it has to be somebody who not only has
access to the barn, but to the house, as well. I'm telling you,
Junior, somebody pulled that button from my blouse to intentionally
incriminate me." She shivered at the very thought. Who at the ranch
hated her enough to do such a thing? Who would want to see her in
prison for a crime she didn't commit?
"What about that new fellow out at your ranch?" Junior asked.
"Luke?" Abby frowned thoughtfully. Her heart picked up its pace as
she thought of the day he'd arrived. "What about him?" she asked.
He'd arrived on the day that Greg had been murdered. Coincidence? Or
something more ominous?
"What do you know about him?" Junior returned her question with his
own.
Who was Luke Black? What did she really know about him? Nothing. Only
the bits and pieces he'd shared with her, and they had been few and of
little use in discerning his character or exactly what had brought him
to her ranch.
"Not enough," she finally admitted. She thought of the shine on his
boots, the new, raw calluses on his hands. Neither were in keeping
with a seasoned ranch hand. So, who was he really and what had brought
him to the ranch?
She shivered as a new thought entered her mind. What if Luke did have
something to do with Greg's death? What if he had some sort of
vendetta against the Connors, against her? She'd left him in charge of
Cody. Dear God, she'd put her most precious possession right in his
hands.
As Junior pulled up in front of the house, her heart pounded so loudly
she was surprised the lawman couldn't hear it. "Thanks for the ride,"
she said as she flew from the car.
"Cody?" she yelled as she opened the front door. "We're in the
kitchen, More."
She nearly sobbed with relief at the sound of his voice. She entered
the kitchen to see Cody at the table and Luke at the stove. "Luke is
making pancakes," Cody exclaimed.
"So I see." She went over to her son, needing to touch him, hug him,
reassure herself he was fine. "Mom," he protested as she kissed his
cheek.
"Maria is still gone?" Abby asked as she sank into a chair at the
table.
"She called this morning, said her sister is doing better and she
should be back by the end of the week," Luke replied as he removed
pancakes from the griddle and placed them on a plate. "Want some?" As
he placed the plate in front of Cody, his gaze lingered on her face.
searchingly. "You all right?"
"As right as I can be," she said, not wanting to say too much in front
of Cody.
"Did they let you go?"
She shook her head. "I was charged and arraigned. I'm out on bail."
"What's bail?" Cody asked as he smothered his pancakes in syrup.
"Just grown-up stUff," Abby answered.
"Did the police find out who killed Dad?"
"No, son, they didn't. They're still looking." Abby hoped to hell her
words were true. Hopefully Junior or some member of the police force
was still investigating and hadn't quit because of her arrest.
"Coffee?" Luke asked.
"Please." She murmured her thanks as he set a cup in front of her,
then poured himself one and joined them at the table. "I can't thank
you enough for babysitting Cody for me."
"Don't say baby-sitting," Cody said with a mouthful of pancake and a
scowl. "I'm not a baby."
As Cody ate, Luke and Abby kept their conversation light, but she could
see the questions in his eyes, the need to know what had happened, how
she'd fared in jail.
"Well, I'd better get out of here," Luke finally said after his second
cup of coffee. "Rusty will be complaining about me being in here
instead of out there earning my pay."
"If he complains, I'll take care of him. You've more than earned your
pay dealing with this little monster for a night." She ruffled Cody's
hair, then stood to walk with Luke to the front door.
All her earlier questions and worries about him had disappeared. Had
he wanted to harm her, he could have done so last night, with Cody.
"So
what happens now?" Luke asked as they stepped out onto the front
porch.
Abby wrapped her arms around herself despite the heat of the sun
overhead. "My lawyer is coming by this evening and we're going to
discuss defense strategy." She forced a smile: "He seems to think I
need more than a proclamation of innocence to get me off."
"What else can you get?"
"I can find the real killer." Abby shivered and looked out to where
the hired help went about the business of keeping the ranch running.
"Whoever killed Greg is out here, close to me, pretending to be a
friend while setting me up."
"What makes you think that?"
"Nothing else makes any sense. Whoever killed Greg got into my closet
and pulled a button off the blouse I wore the night of the murder.
Whoever killed Greg used my branding iron as the weapon. Somebody
wants me put away for a murder I didn't commit, and it's somebody on
this ranch."
"So, how are you going to go about finding out who this someone is?"
There was a touch of indulgent humor in his expression.
"I'm glad you find this amusing," she snapped. "I'm already about to
lose this ranch, and if I don't do something, I'll probably spend the
rest of my life in prison."
"
"I'm sorry," he replied. "I don't mean to poke fun, but you aren't
exactly Jessica Fletcher."
"No, I'm not." To her horror, tears burned at her eyes. "But I can't
just sit around and do nothing." She swallowed hard, trying to control
the tears, but failing. "I've never 'felt so frightened, or so
alone."
He pulled her into his arms. For a moment, as tears splashed down her
cheeks, she leaned into him. His T-shirt smelled of sunshine and
strength, and for just a moment she allowed herself to be wek, allowed
him to hold her up both physically and emotionally.
It felt so good. She felt as if she'd spent her lifetime alone and in
these moments of allowing Luke to support her, she gave him her trust,
a tiny piece of her heart.
"Is there anything I can do?" he asked when she finally moved out of
his embrace.
She shook her head, then smiled. "You just did it." They both turned
at the sound of a car approaching. "What now?" Abby sighed. At least
it wasn't a police car, rather it was an expensive luxury model. Abby
groaned. "Just what I need. Henry Carsworth."
"Who's Henry Carsworth?" Luke asked.
"A vulture," Abby replied as a squat, short man got out of the car.
"Morning, Mr. Carsworth."
He tipped the hat that looked ridiculously small atop his big head.
"Henry. I told you the other day to call me Henry." He flashed a grin
almost as bright as the sparkle on the huge belt buckle he wore. "I
figured after a night in jail you might be willing to talk turkey. "
"A night in jail didn't change my mind, Mr. Cars-worth. The ranch is
not for sale."
Henry's grin didn't waver. He pulled a fat cigar from his pocket and
lit it, his gaze going first to Abby, then to Luke, then back to Abby.
"Now, now, let's not be hasty. Perhaps we can go inside where it's
more private, you can listen to my offer, then make a decision."
"It doesn't matter what your offer is, my decision has already been
made."
Henry placed a foot on the porch, displaying a custom-made snakeskin
boot with a three-inch heel. "Be reasonable, Abby. You're in trouble,
in big trouble. Way I hear it, all that's keeping this place afloat is
your determination. Now you've got legal bills and a criminal case
hanging over your head. What you going to leave that boy of yours if
you go to prison? You're going to lose the ranch. Why not let me buy
it, I'll give you a fair price, enough to pay your legal fees and still
live a good life or put some in a trust fund for your kid."
Abby grimaced with annoyance. "Mr. Carsworth, this ranch is not for
sale."
For the first time since his arrival his smile fell. He dropped the
cigar to the ground and squashed it beneath his heel. "I'm going to
own this ranch, Abby. I can either buy it now, or I can buy it later,
when you're in prison. But, one way or the other, this ranch will be
mine." He tipped his hat, then walked back to his car.
"That snake," Abby hissed beneath her breath. "Who exactly is he?"
Luke asked.
"He's a wealthy man from California who's a wanna-be."
"A wanna-be?"
"He wants to be a cowboy and he wants my ranch."
Luke gazed at the road, where the last stirring of dust from the car
lingered in the air. "I wonder how badly he wants to own your
ranch?"
"Why?"
Luke looked back at her. "I wonder if he wants it bad enough to frame
you for murder?"
GUILTY OR INNOCENT. 9 Those two words plagued Luke all day. They
battled in his head, sparred in his heart. Could any woman be as good
as Abby at radiating innocence and hiding guilt if it weren't true?
Luke had a feeling he was out of his depth. If he were smart, he'd
head back to Chicago, back to his desk job and solitary life-style. If
he were smart, he'd leave it to the authorities to decide Abby's guilt
or innocence, allow the judicial process to either punish her or let
her go. But, for the first time in his life, Luke didn't want to be
smart.
He couldn't leave here without knowing exactly who was responsible for
Greg's death. He leaned against the corral fence. Dammit, it had all
been so clear when he'd left Chicago to travel out here. He'd been
determined to straighten things out, to right past wrongs.
"You seem to be worming your way in real good with the boss lady."
Luke turned and grinned at Rusty. "She's an attractive woman, I'm a
healthy man."
Rusty snorted. "If you're thinking you can weasel your way into owning
a piece of this place by snuggling up to her, you'd better think again.
That's what her first husband tried to do and look what it got him."
Luke looked at the old man sharply. "What do you mean? Are you saying
Greg married Abby to get the ranch?"
Rusty shrugged. "I'm just an old fool, but that's the way it appeared
to me. Abby's parents had just passed away, leaving her in charge.
From the moment he arrived here, he honed in on her like a hawk to a
rabbit. When she refused to put the place in his name, he left her."
"What kind of a boss is she?"
"Hard, but fair." Rusty rubbed his jaw thought fully. "That is until
lately."
"What about lately?"
Rusty frowned and again stroked his whiskered jawline. "I don't know
lately she seems to be real absentminded, you know. Even' before the
murder, she seemed to have moments when I wasn't sure she was all
there."
Luke sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You got family,
Rusty?"
"Had a wife and a little boy once. The wife took the boy and left me
years ago. Never heard from her again."
Luke looked at him curiously. "What about your son?"
"He got in touch with me not long ago, had lots of questions I couldn't
/> answer, seemed to need things I couldn't give him." Rusty sighed, the
wearied sigh of an old man. "Ah, family ... better off' without
them."
"So, who do you think killed Greg?"
Rusty ran a gnarled hand through his grizzled gray hair and his frown
deepened. "Don't know for sure, but I can tell you one thing?" He
looked toward the house. "I saw her come home the night he was
murdered. I heard she told the police she was out at Walker's pond,
but when she drove in that night she came from the opposite direction.
She came from the direction of town."
Luke frowned and also looked toward the house, more confused than ever.
Was Abby an innocent victim of some conspiracy, or was she an evil,
heartless woman who would do anything to protect what was hers?
"I'LL BE IN TOUCH later in the week," Bert Manigan said as he walked to
the front door.
Abby nodded wearily. Midnight approached, and they had been talking
since eight o'clock. Her mind whirled with all his proposed legal
maneuvering, most of which she didn't understand. "Thanks, Bert."
He smiled. "Don't worry. If my investigator doesn't turn up something
we can use in your defense, we'll ask for a continuance. We won't go
Cassidy, Carla - Midnight Wishes Page 10
