Cassidy, Carla - Midnight Wishes
Page 15
why would any one of them make those checks Out to Greg?
It was imlossible to imagine a stranger gaining access to the office.
That' left only one chilling possibility. Somebody Abby
trusted--somebody close to her--had stolen the checks. Mystery built
on mystery. Who'd killed Greg? Who'd paid him money? Who was making
the phone calls to her? Her head felt ready to explode with all the
frightening questions.
One thing was certain. She had not written those checks to Greg. She
hadn't done it in her sleep, or in one of her strange blackouts. Both
times she'd suffered one of her mental blackouts, she'd awakened
knowing there was a missing chunk of time. Both times she'd
immediately been aware of something wrong. Two times. That's all it
had happened. She steadfastly ignored her uncertainty about the night
of Greg's murder. Besides, she knew with certainty she'd never write
two thousand dollars' worth of checks to Greg, not with the ranch
finances as dismal as they were.
Two thousand dollars gone, money she'd assumed was in the account.
She'd be lucky if they could meet payroll next week. She got up from
the desk, too distracted by her thoughts to get any work done.
She looked at her wristwatch, surprised to realize it was after noon.
Perhaps she'd eat a little lunch, then take a ride on Blackheart. She
hadn't been on the horse since the day he'd thrown her and knew he'd be
eager for a run.
In the kitchen, she stared at the refrigerator contents in dismay. If
Maria didn't return from her sister's soon, they'd all starve unless
somebody stepped into the position of cook.
She didn't know what they would do if Maria decided not to return to
her job. Abby knew Maria's sister had health problems and there was a
possibility that she would decide to remain with her sister to care for
her.
Maria had worked for the family for as long as Abby could remember. She
would have had access to your closet, a small voice whispered in the
back of Abby's head. She could have pulled the button off the blouse
Deputy Helstrom confiscated. Odd that her sister had gotten ill just
as all hell had broken loose.
Abby shook her head in disgust. What was she thinking? How far had
she sunk to believe that Maria, a trusted friend and part of her
family, could possibly have any part in this mess?
She quickly made herself a sandwich, then sat at the kitchen table, her
head still reeling with suppositions.
Luke. Had he somehow gained access to her room? Snuck in while nobody
else was in the house to rip the button from her blouse? Had he been
making the phone calls to her, the ones that sounded like Greg? Was it
all an attempt to make her break, cause her to confess her guilt?
Anger surged through her at thoughts of him. How quickly attraction
could turn to hatred. And she did hate him. He'd lied to her, taken
advantage of her weakness, her need for support and love. He'd
pretended to care about her when in reality his sole purpose for being
with her was to break her, force a confession from her.
She was still shocked that Greg had had a brother, even a half brother.
He'd never talked about Luke, but then Greg had rarely spoken at all
about his past. He'd told her once that he felt his life had truly
begun on the day he'd met her. And in her youthful dreams of romantic
love, she'd found his words thrilling and hadn't needed more than
that.
She finished her sandwich and cleaned up her mess. Enough thoughts of
Greg and Luke. Greg was dead and Luke was hopefully on a plane back to
wherever he'd come from. They were both out of her life permanently.
What she needed was a good, fast ride on Black-heart to clear her head,
chase away disturbed thoughts of Greg, and more intimate memo fides of
Luke. Only this time, she intended to saddle the horse herself.
LUKE PULLED IN from his trip into town just in time to see Abby
disappear into the brn. Apparently she was preoccupied because she
didn't seem to notice Rusty's truck or Luke.
He parked and shut off the engine, frowning as he thought back over his
conversation with Deputy Hel-st from Richard Helstrom had been shocked
by Luke's announcement that he was Greg's half brother and had inquired
at length about why Luke hadn't come forward the moment of Greg's
death.
After several tense minutes of interrogation, Luke had taken control
and demanded to see the investigation files and anything pertinent to
the crime. He'd also demanded Greg's personal effects be released into
his custody. Everything that had been on Greg's person the night of
the murder now rested in a manila envelope on the seat next to Luke.
Luke had also gotten permission to go into Greg's rented room and
remove whatever belonged to Greg.
What he hoped was that in Greg's room there would be some clue as to
whom Greg might have talked to, had dealings with before his murder. He
hoped he'd find something the police had overlooked, some clue that
would either definitively clear or inculpate Abby in the murder.
He also needed to tell her he had no intentions of leaving the ranch or
returning to his home in Chicago until he was certain that justice
would be met. He owed at least that much to Greg.
Gearing himself for the coming confrontation, he sucked in a deep
breath, then got out of the truck. At the same moment Blackheart
bolted out of the open door of the barn, his hooves stirring dust as he
raced for the open pasture.
Luke stared after the riderless horse, then looked back at the barn
door. Dread surged upward in his gut, tightening his throat with
frantic anxiety. "Abby." Her name whispered from his lips, breaking
the inertia that had momentarily gripped him.
He raced to the barn, his heart pounding painfully in his chest as the
scent of danger encircled him. Inside, it took a moment for his eyes
to adjust from the brilliant sunshine to the dim shadows.
Abby lay sprawled, unmoving, on the floor, a bale of hay next to her.
"Abby!" This time her name wasn't a whisper, but rather exploded out
of him as he raced to her side.
He crouched beside her, seeing the hay tangled in her hair and the
position of the bale next to her. Apparently the bale had fallen and
hit her. "Abby Abby." He called her name and picked up her limp hand,
but she remained still.
Had she been trying to carry a bale of hay and fallen down the stairs?
Damn her and her independence. Gently, he felt her arms, her legs,
seeking any broken bones, but he found none. Finally he eased her head
off the ground and discovered a large lump on the back of her head.
Probably the reason for her unconsciousness, he thought.
He scooped her up into his arms and carried her out of the barn and
toward the house. She moaned slightly as he crossed the porch, but
didn't open her eyes, didn't seem to be conscious.
Once inside, he placed her on the sofa, then went into the bathroom and
dampened a washcloth with cool water. He hurried back to her, his
heart still beating a frantic rhythm. If she didn't come around pretty
quickly, he'd need to call for a doctor.
The minute he placed the cool cloth across her forehead, her eyes
fluttered, then opened. "Wh-what are you doing?" She began to sit up,
then moaned and eased back down.
"Easy. You've been unconscious." Luke saw the fear that deepened the
hue of her eyes. "No, not another blackout. I found you on the floor
in the barn."
She frowned and he saw the fear fall away from her eyes. "Oh, yes. I
was going to ride Blackheart. I saddled him, then I heard something
...a noise. I thought somebody was in 'the barn. I walked out of the
stall and ... and that's all I remember."
"I think you must have been hit by a bale of hay falling from the
loft."
"Yeah, well it feels like I got hit by a Mack truck." She sat up once
again, this time without a moan, but with her hand at the back of her
head. "What were you doing in the barn anyway? I thought I told you
to pack your bags and leave."
"I've never done well at following directives. I borrowed Rusty's
truck and went into town. When I pulled up, I saw you go into the
barn, then a moment later Blackheart ran out. By the way, will he be
all right? Last I saw him, he was heading for the pasture."
She nodded. "He'll come home on his own or one of the hands will bring
him back." Luke sank down next to her on the sofa, ignoring her look
of irritation. "If I were you, I wouldn't be in such a hurry to get
rid of me."
"And why is that?"
The color coming back into her cheeks, along with the clarity in her
eyes and the bite to her voice caused a wave of relief. to flood
through him. Apparently the bump on her head hadn't made her forget
her anger with him. "Because I'm beginning to believe you aren't the
one responsible for Greg's death."
She sighed impatiently. "That's what I've been saying all along."
"And, I think somebody threw that hay bale from the loft in an effort
to intentionally harm you."
Abby stared at him as if he'd just lost his mind. She snatched the
damp cloth from him and rubbed her forehead thoughtfully, then looked
at him once again. "Why on earth would you think such a thing? The
bale must have been stacked too close to the edge. It fell."
"I was up in the loft yesterday. There were no bales of hay anywhere
near the edge of the loft. It's impossible that it was an accident."
Again an edge of fear darkened her eyes. "But why? Why would anyone
want to hurt me?"
He shrugged. "Why is somebody calling you and pretending to be Greg?
How did the nail get beneath Blackheart's saddle blanket the last time
you rode?" He leaned closer to her, bringing with him the fresh,
masculine scent she would forever identify as his. "Abby, something
isn't right here and I'm beginning to think you're as much a victim as
Greg was."
"Obviously something isn't right here. I've been arrested for a crime
I didn't commit and a dead man is calling me on the phone." His words
caused a cold dread to grow inside her stomach, along with the dull
throb in the back of her head. She realized he was merely stating
aloud some of what she had been thinking and feeling.
She frowned, thinking back to those moments in the barn as she had
finished saddling up Blackheart. She'd thought she'd heard the soft
slap of footsteps, the rustle of movement. She'd left Blackheart's
stall to see who'd come into the barn. She had a vague memory of
somebody softly calling her name. then nothing. She looked at Luke in
speculation. "So, exactly what do you have in mind?"
"Partners. We work together to find out who killed Greg, find out
who's calling you, perhaps trying to harm you."
She tried to stifle a snort of derision. "Partners? For all I know
you're part of this craziness. You lied to me before. Why should I
believe you're on my side in all this?"
His eyes were dark and enigmatic. "Because all I want is justice
served. I want Greg's killer put behind bars."
Despite her anger and hurt, despite the fact that she wanted to believe
she hated him with every fiber of her being, hurt flickered through her
at his words. Of course that was all he wanted. He wasn't staying at
the ranch for any other reason, certainly not because of any feelings
for her.
"Come on, Abby, work with me on this. We can start tomorrow morning.
Richard Helstrom gave me the key to Greg's room. We can check it out
to see if the police missed anything. If you aren't guilty, then help
me find who is."
Although she didn't want anything more to'do with Luke, still ached at
the depth of his betrayal in making love to her, she knew she couldn't
figure all this out by herself. She needed him. As Greg's closest
relative he'd know things about Greg, have access to information and
the investigation she'd never gain alone. "Okay, you can stay here and
we'll see what we can find out about what's going on."
"Partner?" He held out his hand.
Abby hesitated a moment before she grasped his hand. "Partner," she
agreed, trying to ignore what his touch did to her.
He offered her a half smile. "Don't look so worded. We're both after
the same thing here." His gaze washed over her with languid heat, re
stirring embers of flames of desire in her.
She snatched her hand away, wondering if, indeed, they were after the
same things. All she wanted was to somehow get through these traumas,
get an opportunity to gain those long-ago, midnight wishes of her
youth. Somehow she had the feeling that although Luke wanted to catch
the real killer, he also intended to steal a piece of her soul in the
process.
One thing was clear. By throwing in her allegiance with a man who'd
already lied to her, betrayed her in the most base way, she exhibited
the strongest evidence yet of being insane.
Chapter Eleven
"Hi, Luke. Mom said to tell you she'll be right out," Cody exclaimed
as he met Luke at the truck the next morning. He grinned up at Luke,
an open, toothless smile filled with sunshine. "I brought you some
thing." The little boy dug into his pocket and withdrew a hickory nut.
He held it out to Luke. "It's my good luck charm. See, I painted a
face on it, I wanna give it to you."
Luke took the hard shell nut with the painted features making a happy
face. "Why are you giving it to me?"
Cody smiled, a beatific expression that lit his entire face. "" Cause
I like you. " He immediately postured himself in like image to Luke,
leaning against the truck and crossing his feet at the ankles.
"Thanks." As Luke pocketed the nut, an alien emotion fluttered in his
chest, one that made him distinctly uncomfortable.
He didn't want to care about Cody, couldn't afford the emotional
investment caring required. He'd tried to be a father figure once
before in his life, with horrendous results. Although he'd enjoyed
making love with Abby, he wasn't looking to fill the void his half
brother left behind when he'd deserted her years ago. This was one of
Greg's messes he simply couldn't clean up.
"Luke?"
"What?" Luke shifted positions, vaguely irritated when Cody did the
same, once again mimicking his posture.
"You like my mom?"
Luke hesitated a moment, unsure how to answer, not wanting to feed any
fantasies the little boy might entertain. "Sure, she's nice."
"And she's pretty, too. Huh?"
Luke was saved from answering by the slam of the front door and Abby's
approach. As she walked toward the two males, Luke answered Cody's
question in his mind. Yes, she's pretty. In fact, with the deep blue
sundress clinging to her curves, and the sun sparkling on her hair, she
looked more than pretty. And that set irritation winging through Luke
once again.
"Sorry you had to wait," she said as she opened the driver's door of
the truck and motioned Cody inside. "I'm dropping Cody at a friend's
house in town."
"Yeah, I'm going to Jason's house. He's got a computer with lots of
games," Cody said as he slid into the middle and Luke climbed in the
passenger seat.
"And don't forget, we'll be back to pick you up around noon," Abby
reminded him. She started the truck, not looking at Luke.
He remembered the warmth of her smile, the easy,
flirtatious relationship they'd shared before he'd told her his true