But what he’d told Tracy was the truth. The household staff was trustworthy. This theft and attack must have been an outside job. But who? And why? Who would have a reason to hurt Abra, to steal Tracy’s painkillers and jewelry and search for Lord-knows-what in Abra’s suite?
Leading her by the elbow, Jack pulled Tracy back into the house and off to a corner of the foyer, away from the buzz of police officers searching the premises. He smoothed a loose wisp of her hair back from her face, tucking the silky strands behind her ear. “I think I’m going to fix myself a stiff drink. Can I get you something?”
She shook her head slowly, looking dazed, devastated.
Framing her face with his hands, he kissed the bridge of her nose. “This wasn’t your fault.”
“But I—”
“This wasn’t your fault,” he repeated, firming his grip. “Even if it turns out The Wolf did this, you can’t blame yourself. Blame the cretin who attacked my mother. Blame the Baxters for hiring the bastard. Hell, blame me for being so focused on making love to you that I didn’t realize what was happening in the next room until too late.”
He paused and inhaled slowly, his gut quivering at the memory. The sweet taste of her kisses, the satiny feel of her skin and tantalizing whisper of her panting breaths had entranced him. Worked him to a fevered frenzy, wanting only to bury himself inside her. Even now his body quaked with unspent passion and need that he forced aside in deference to the more serious matters at hand. He rested his forehead against hers and said in a rasping murmur, “But do not blame yourself.”
She bobbed her chin in agreement, but her expression said she was unconvinced. The bleak look in her eyes and uncharacteristically wan color of her cheeks told the story of her fatigue and stress. The sooner he could get her away from the main house for some rest, the better. But they’d been warned not to leave the area until the police dismissed them.
“I’m going to get that drink now and call to check on Seth. Why don’t you sit down in the living room? You look ready to drop.”
Her eyes widened and her lips parted at his mention of Seth, but before she could say anything, a police officer approached them and cleared his throat.
“I was told you two were the first on the scene. We need to take a full statement from each of you for the report.”
Reluctantly, Jack released her, and he nodded to the officer. “Yes. Fine.”
But he wasn’t fine at all with letting Tracy go. He wanted to hold her until the pink glow returned to her cheeks, until the fear left her eyes...until he could be certain she was completely safe. As she followed the officer into the next room, she cast a glance over her shoulder that said her wishes echoed his.
The two of them were separated for questioning, much the way Irene and George Baxter had been earlier today. Basic procedure, he knew, but he didn’t like it.
Ryan had arrived shortly after Jack’s interview started, but his involvement, for now, was limited to observation. Jack could see Ryan’s edginess, though. He sensed his brother’s desire to dive into the investigation from the way he paced the floor and gritted his teeth, fire leaping in his gaze.
The police interviews lasted about thirty minutes, and when they were allowed to leave, Jack wasted no time collecting the last of Tracy’s possessions from the guest room and trundling her down to the old homestead.
Eric had called from the hospital to report that Abra’s condition was dire. Her doctors had decided to put her in a medically induced coma, giving her body time to heal the head wound while protecting her brain from further stress and damage. Eric had tried to get Big J to return to the ranch and rest, but he’d refused. Brett, too, had stayed at the hospital at Abra’s bedside.
Due to the late hour, Seth was allowed to finish the night sleeping in Edith’s quarters on the first floor of the main house.
After parking behind the house and unloading Tracy’s suitcases from the truck bed, Jack led her in the back door, through the mudroom, piled high with Seth’s dirty clothes and boots, and into the kitchen.
“Can I get you anything to eat?” He waved a hand toward his refrigerator. “We never got any dinner earlier.”
“No,” she said, her voice little more than a sigh. “I just want to go to bed.” She heard the sudden catch in his breath and knew immediately where his thoughts had gone. Despite the tragic turn of events tonight, her mind had not strayed far from thoughts of the intimacy she’d shared with Jack in the guest room. Or where things would have led if Abra hadn’t been attacked.
And now they were alone in his house...
“Jack, I...” She wet her lips, not sure what she wanted to tell him, but knowing something should be said about the new direction their relationship had taken. Did she want to sleep with Jack? Yes. Definitely.
Could she give herself to him and not put her heart at risk? Definitely not. Was Jack worth a broken heart? She studied the rugged lines of his square jaw, met the concern for her that burned in his bright green eyes and remembered the loving devotion he showed his son. A tender ache flowed through her, twisting a knot in her chest that stole her breath. Oh, yes. Jack was worth any pain she might experience down the road.
Drawing her shoulders back, she tried again. “About what happened earlier...when we...”
Dropping her bags with a thump, Jack closed the distance between them in two steps. He cradled the back of her head with one large splayed hand and angled her head up. Whispering her name, he bowed his head and kissed her gently. His lips were warm, their caress toe curling and sweet. Then he released her and stepped back, lifting her suitcases again.
“Follow me.” He turned and strode toward the stairs.
Follow him? Oh, yes. To the ends of the earth. She was in deep. So deep it frightened her a bit. Jack Colton was so...very...
He was just so very.
Her pulse thundered in her ears and, moving like an automaton, she fell in step behind him. He showed her upstairs to a room at the far end of the hallway and laid her suitcase on top of a four-poster double bed with an ivory eyelet bedspread. Tracy sent an encompassing glance around the surprisingly feminine room and set her purse on the oak dresser.
“You should like this place. Laura decorated it, and I never saw any point in changing anything,” Jack said.
Tracy jerked a startled glance toward Jack. She shouldn’t be so surprised to learn that Laura had put her fingerprint on the guest room. What surprised her was that Jack hadn’t seen fit to erase the traces of his ex. She cast a fresh eye to the room appreciating the feminine touches. A sky-blue and mint-green quilt was folded at the foot of the bed and small pillows trimmed with coordinating ribbons adorned the top. Sheer ivory curtains framed the windows, and dried flower arrangements sat atop the chest of drawers and bedside table. A set of pictures featuring turn-of-the-century women enjoying a picnic hung on one wall and a mounted piece of needlepoint in a floral design was displayed next to the window.
Tracy felt a tug at her heart, and a lump swelled in her throat. Standing in that bedroom, seeing all of the personal touches her cousin had chosen, she felt closer to Laura than she had in many months. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”
Jack gave a small nod of acknowledgment before striding to the door. “If you need anything, if there’s...trouble, my room is across the hall.”
Trouble. An image of Abra’s body, blood puddling under her head flashed in Tracy’s mind. The warmth she’d felt, being surrounded by the pretty things her cousin had chosen for the guest room evaporated in a chill. The terror of being hunted like an animal shimmied through her.
The Wolf will not stop until Tracy is dead. George Baxter’s words reverberated in her head, in her heart. Jack was right. She stood little chance of surviving on her own. She’d thought staying on the ranch, having Jack’s protection would be enough to keep her safe until The Wolf was caught, but the attack on Abra changed things. How many more people would be hurt before The Wolf was caught? Was her death the only thing th
at would save the rest of the Coltons from the assassin’s murderous mission?
* * *
The next morning, after helping Jack and Kurt Rodgers with ranching chores, Tracy accompanied Jack to the hospital to visit Abra in ICU. Though she wasn’t allowed into the room with Jack’s mother, she watched through a large window as Jack placed a chaste kiss on his mother’s bandaged head.
“I hate seeing her like that.”
She turned to find Big J standing behind her clutching a cup of coffee. Dark circles under his eyes stood out from his unnaturally wan skin and haggard expression. The man who’d seemed so robust and jocular when she’d met him at Greta’s engagement party a couple weeks earlier, seemed to have aged ten years overnight.
Tracy touched his arm in sympathy. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
He heaved a weary sigh. “Just...pray.”
She nodded. “Of course.” When he continued to stare blankly through the glass to his wife’s bed, Tracy asked quietly, “Big J, have you been here all night?”
He nodded weakly. “I can’t leave her. She’s...fragile. I have to take care of her...”
Her heart broke for him, knowing there was nothing he could do and how desperately he must have wanted to help her. “I know you want to be close to her, but...you need to rest, too.”
He didn’t react to her comment. He just stared into near space, swaying on his feet.
“Big J? Do you want to sit—”
“She wasn’t happy here, you know. She never really loved the ranch the way I do.”
Tracy blinked, not knowing how to respond.
“She spent most of her time in Europe when the boys were small. Recuperating.” He sighed forlornly. “She spent more time at home with us after Greta came, but she...wasn’t happy. I’d hurt her...with Daniel’s mother...but her doctors had her depression under control...and Edith helps manage her on her worst days...”
Tracy shifted her weight, uncomfortable with the deeply personal nature of Big J’s comments. He was overtired, rambling, feeling guilty and grief stricken.
Jack emerged from Abra’s room and divided a glance between Tracy and his father. “Big J? Are you all right?”
The older man raised a hand and shook his head. “I’m not going home, so don’t even start on me.”
Tracy gave Jack a worried look that was reflected in Jack’s eyes.
“Her doctors have said they intend to keep her in this medically induced coma for several days at least. She won’t be coming to—”
“But she’ll know if I leave!” Big J insisted. “I won’t let her down by leaving her alone.” He shuffled toward the window and pressed his hand to the plate glass. “Case closed.”
Jack raked his hand through his rumpled hair and blew a deep breath through pursed lips. “Have it your way. I’ll let Eric know you’re staying, and he can check on you from time to time.”
Big J lifted a gaze that flashed with emotion. “I’m not the one who needs attention. Your mother is!”
Jack opened his mouth, then snapped it closed. He jerked a nod and motioned for Tracy to follow him. “If anything changes with her condition, call me at the ranch office. I’m backlogged on paperwork and plan to be there most of the day.”
Tracy fell in step beside Jack as he started for the elevator. “That’s it? You’re going to leave him here?”
“Coltons have their own brand of stubbornness and determination, Tracy, and Big J has Colton obstinacy in spades. I wasn’t going to convince him to leave her once he’d made up his mind.”
She cast another concerned glance over her shoulder as they arrived at the bank of elevators. “Maybe I should stay with him. He’s—”
“No.” Jack’s tone brooked no argument. “Have you forgotten there’s a hired killer after you? You’re not leaving my side today.”
“But—”
The ding of the elevator bell signaled its arrival. As the doors parted, Greta stepped off, and seeing Jack, she threw her arms around her brother and heaved a broken sob. “Oh, Jack! I got here as fast as I could. Why didn’t anyone call me last night? How is she? What happened? Was the intruder caught? What did Eric say about her injuries?” she asked, not even pausing to take a breath.
After giving her a firm hug, Jack gripped his sister’s shoulders. “There was nothing you could do last night, so Brett and I decided to wait until this morning to call.” He summarized what had happened with the attacker, the police investigation into the break-in and assault, and the doctor’s assessment of their mother’s condition.
“I’ll sit with Big J,” Greta said, swiping a tear from her cheek. “I still wish you’d called me last night.”
They left the hospital in silence, each absorbed in worrisome thoughts about Abra’s condition and the killer who was on the loose, lurking somewhere in the area of the Lucky C. And if Jack’s theory was correct, and the person who’d attacked Abra wasn’t The Wolf, then there was another threat to the Colton family to worry about.
Chapter 17
Tracy leaned her head back, watching the ranch and farmland outside of Tulsa whiz past the passenger window of Jack’s truck, and she rubbed the bridge of her nose. “What are you going to tell Seth?”
Creases of fatigue bracketed Jack’s eyes and worry lined the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know. The truth, but a scaled-down version of it. I don’t want to scare him. He’s only five, after all. But I won’t lie to him, either.”
“What does he know now about what happened and where we went this morning?”
His cell phone rang before he could answer. After checking his caller ID, Jack said, “It’s Ryan.” Lifting the phone to his ear he answered the call with, “Please tell me you have good news.”
Tracy studied Jack’s reactions for clues to what his brother was saying. The disgruntled twist of his mouth said his hope for good news was unmet.
“Hang on, I’m going to put you on speaker. I’m with Tracy. We’re in the truck, headed back to the ranch after seeing Abra. No, no change. Greta’s with Big J. Yeah, hang on.” He handed her the phone to hold as he thumbed a button to switch the call to speaker mode. “Okay, whatcha got?”
“We’ve got some prelim test results back on the infant skeleton y’all found,” Ryan said. “The baby was a male. Died approximately six years ago. Was African American.”
Tracy snapped her chin up in surprise, her pulse kicking.
Jack’s eyebrows drew together sharply, and he gave her a puzzled look as if asking if she’d heard what he did. “Come again?”
“A black infant boy. Five to seven years post-mortem.” Ryan’s tone was flat and matter-of-fact. But then he’d had time to digest this unusual bit of information.
“Why would he be buried in our family cemetery?” Jack gave his head a little shake. “That makes no sense.”
“Which, in and of itself, is a clue. It’s likely the bones weren’t buried here originally. We’re checking to see if any local cemeteries have reported a grave robbery or a theft from a medical school or lab.”
“Are you thinking someone from the ranch stole the baby’s bones and buried them out there? What would be the point in that?” Tracy asked. She clutched the phone tighter, this strange twist making her uneasy. How did this fit with the attack on Abra? With the Baxters’ hiring an assassin to kill her?
“We haven’t gotten as far as identifying who could have dug the grave,” Ryan reported. “There were dozens of fingerprints on the handle of the shovel. I’m guessing everyone on the ranch has used it in the last couple weeks, so it’s not proving helpful.”
“So someone dug that grave and left the bones there for us to find... Why?” Jack asked, “To scare us? To send a message?”
“That’s yet to be determined but...unofficially—” Ryan paused “—that’d be my guess.”
“Who would do that? Why? That’s...sick! It’s just...” Tracy shuddered.
“Tracy,” Ryan said with low, scoffing sigh,
“ninety-nine percent of what I deal with in my job is sick and deranged.”
“What else do you know?” Jack asked. “Anything new about last night’s break-in and the attack on Mother?”
“Not much. Considering some jewelry and prescription drugs were stolen, we have to explore the possibility that this was a simple robbery gone bad. Abra was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“But—” Jack started, and Ryan interrupted.
“But...considering what we know about The Wolf and the contract on Tracy, we’re definitely not dismissing the possibility this was a premeditated act.”
Jack tapped his thumb restlessly on the steering wheel. “Keep us posted,” he said, his tone grave.
“Of course. And Tracy?”
Her heart beat a little faster when he addressed her. “Yes?”
“I know you don’t like being cooped up with Jack and feeling like you’re under his thumb, but considering the circumstances, I think it’s what’s best. Listen to Jack and do what he tells you. I know my older brother’s bossy, but if I had to choose one person to watch my back, it’d be Jack. He’ll keep you safe.”
Jack cut a startled glance toward his phone and arched one eyebrow, as if his brother’s assessment of his skill surprised him.
Tracy didn’t bother to explain that under Jack’s roof was exactly where she wanted to be or that she agreed with Ryan’s appraisal of Jack’s capacity to protect her. Instead she simply said, “Thank you, Ryan, for all you’re doing.” She swiped the screen and disconnected the call.
Jack clipped the phone back on his belt, then signaled his turn onto the long drive leading to the main house.
Seth must have been watching for them, because he bolted out the front door as soon as they entered the circular drive.
Edith emerged from the house at his heels. “How is your mother?”
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