by Laurie Paige
Dev’s smile was wry. “Okay, okay, I get the hint. Chinese?”
“Yeah. Don’t forget the hot mustard.”
Dev took her elbow. “Come on. I’ve got to feed him. We may as well eat, too.”
They went to a Chinese take-out place near the Alamo. Tourists roamed the streets, forming a steady stream up and down the stairs to the riverwalk. The last rays of sunlight, reflecting off the tall buildings that surrounded the adobe Alamo, shimmered in the stagnant heat.
“Being in town feels like being in an oven,” Vanessa remarked. She placed the white bag on the floor between her feet. “The ranch never seems this hot, even if the air temperature is the same.”
“The concrete holds the heat.”
He looked distracted, his thoughts turned inward. She wondered what he thought the rowel might disclose. She was afraid to hope that it might lead them directly to one of the kidnappers, yet she couldn’t bear the thought that it wouldn’t help at all.
“Do you think—”
“It’s better not to,” he said before she finished. He glanced at her after stopping at a traffic light. “If you don’t pin your hopes on any one thing, then you’re not disappointed if it fails.”
He sounded wise, but it was wisdom born from pain. Dev had learned never to let himself hope for anything.
They returned to the crime lab in silence. Charlie turned a triumphant smile on them.
“Got a print,” he said.
“How clear?”
“Perfect.”
“Check it against Vanessa’s,” Dev requested.
“I forgot and picked it up when I found it,” she confessed when the lab specialist glanced her way.
She liked watching Dev with other men. There was an easy camaraderie between him and the technician. He and Wyatt got along, too. Her father never missed a morning conference and, if Dev was absent for dinner, asked about him. She liked knowing other men respected him.
“Dinner?”
She blinked out of her introspection and accepted a plate. The three of them sat on the stools around an empty lab table and ate the meal. “Mmm, I love sweet and sour pork. And noodles.”
“Ah, yes,” Charlie agreed, nodding his head. “That plate you’re using recently held the brain of a criminal. We were trying to find out what poison killed him.”
“My plate?” she croaked in pretend horror.
Charlie considered. “Well, maybe it was the one Kincaid is using.”
Dev lofted one eyebrow at their joking and stuck a piece of pork into his mouth with the chopsticks. He was adept at using them and not at all perturbed by any previous use of the borrowed lab plate.
“When do we take my fingerprints?” she asked.
“I have them on file,” Charlie told her.
She couldn’t hide her surprise.
“I have everyone at the main ranch house,” Dev told her. His eyes locked with hers.
“Everyone is suspect,” she said, the sadness welling up in her. “It hurts to doubt people I’ve known and loved all my life. I can’t believe it could be anyone at the ranch.”
“People are funny,” Charlie advised her, his eyes going solemn. “Especially about money.”
“I never realized it was such a problem until now. Until the kidnapping,” she added, lifting a piece of pork.
Dev pushed her hand toward her mouth. “Eat,” he advised. “Don’t think so much.”
Charlie finished first and went back to work. “Good news,” he called. “You only left a smudge along the edge. More good news. The print belongs to the one found at the motel.”
Charlie slid back from the computer to give Dev a clear view of the screen. Dev shoved his stool back and strode across the lab in four brisk strides. Satisfaction and excitement beat through him.
“What?” Vanessa demanded, crowding in beside him, touching him all the way along their sides. “The fingerprint you found on the motel table matches the one on the rowel?”
“Perfectly,” Charlie assured her.
Dev kept an eye on her as she stared at the screen, her mouth open slightly as she took in the implications. “This ties the person at the hotel to someone on the ranch.”
“The person at the motel was the kidnapper,” Dev murmured close to her ear.
“Yes, but there was someone else, too.”
It hurt to look into her eyes, to see the slow death of trust as she put two and two together and correctly came up with… “An inside job, just as you noted on your list,” he reminded her gently.
“But this makes it real. Someone had to help the person grab the baby, someone who knew where everyone was, then gave a signal to this person.” She waved a hand toward the rowel and its unknown owner.
“I think the baby was handed out the window, probably put into a duffel bag or something that someone could carry without being noticed, then taken to a nearby vehicle.”
“Someone who was there to pack his bags and head off for the rodeo circuit,” Vanessa concluded. “Only he went into hiding. With the baby. But who helped him?”
When she gazed up at him, all the hurt of betrayal in her eyes, Dev was lost. He put his arm around her shoulders and held her, feeling the misery reflected in her eyes.
“We’ll find him,” he said huskily.
Charlie looked from one to the other and cleared his throat. “Dev’s the best,” he said. “He’ll figure it out and nab the guy.”
She nodded and smiled faintly. “Of course. The FBI always gets their man.”
Dev could have kissed her. She was brave and caring and all the things that made him yearn for all the good things in life, to believe they were possible…
“What next?” she asked.
“Next we go find every person who was in the motel out on the interstate on April sixth.”
“Wyatt checked everyone out—”
“But maybe something was overlooked, just as the rowel was missed in the previous search. Maybe we can find out what name our cowboy used at that time.”
“And a car tag,” Charlie put in.
“But the police have already checked out everyone they could find.”
“We’ll check them again,” Dev promised. “And maybe we’ll find out something about the person who rented the room for those three nights.”
Doubts darkened her eyes. She sighed as if weary beyond hope. “Okay, let’s go do it.”
Dev spared a rueful glance at the rest of his meal and placed his hand on the small of her back. “We’ll start in the morning.”
Vanessa sighed and slumped in the easy chair in Dev’s room. He settled in the desk chair. She couldn’t summon a smile, not even for him. “I feel as if I’m at the bottom of the pit.”
“I know.”
“Because you’ve been there.” She reached over and brushed the dark wing of hair off his forehead. “It must be hard to never let yourself expect good things, to never let yourself dream or hope.”
“Don’t go psychological.”
“I’m stating an observation, not probing.”
“Okay.”
He wouldn’t argue with her. It almost made her angry with him. She shifted restlessly. “I need something. I’m filled with yearning, and I don’t even know why.”
No answer.
“Closure,” she finally decided. “I’m a person who needs closure. I want to solve the case, get my nephew back and get on with life.”
Dev flicked her a glance. His expression disclosed nothing, not even the sadness that lived within him and weighed so heavily on her heart.
“Tell me to shut up and quit complaining,” she urged, clutching at the ragged edges of humor.
“You have a right,” he said quietly.
Tears burned behind her eyes. At times he was the kindest person she had ever known. Because he knew what it was to hurt.
“I love you,” she whispered, the words catching in her throat. “It’s the only good to come out of this—that we met and fell in love.”
“It would be nice to think so.”
“But you know differently.”
“I know that bad things, like good things, don’t last forever. If you remember that, you’ll make it through the pit and back to the light.”
She gazed into the courtyard. She had lived here all her life, except for the time spent at college.
“Home,” she murmured. “It beckons with the force of all the memories I’ve collected here. It was my safe place, but then my mother got sick and we were invaded by evil—”
“Enter the wicked stepmother,” he put in. No smile eased the sober lines of his face.
“I had never disliked anyone before. It was a strange feeling, not to trust someone in my home. And now this—another person on the ranch with evil in his heart, someone who would take a baby—”
Her voice broke and she couldn’t go on. She closed her eyes. After a moment she felt his arms slide around her.
“We’ll find the snake,” he promised softly, putting her across his lap. “And drive him out of Eden.”
She leaned her head against the winged back and stared into his eyes, which seemed navy blue in the deep twilight. “And then you’ll leave?”
“I’ll have to.”
The deep, sad certainty in him fed the desolation inside her. “Why can’t this one thing last? Why can’t we have this? Make me understand.”
“Ah, Beauty,” he said, then hesitated.
The sadness was in his eyes again. For her, she realized. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he wouldn’t give her false hope, either.
“Do you realize you made a promise a moment ago?” She stroked her hands along his shoulders. Such broad shoulders. They could carry the weight of the world. He was a rescuer, and he could no more ignore his nature than she could stop being an optimist, even if she was in the dumps now.
“It’s my job,” he explained gently. “I cast out snakes. Or at least try to put them behind bars for a good portion of their lives.”
“A paladin,” she murmured, “who travels the world and stamps out evil.”
“Nothing so noble as that,” Dev denied.
She thumped him on the chest. “Yes, it is. Don’t be denigrating the person I love, hear?”
He kissed her hand, then held it against his chest. “You almost make me believe in fairy tales,” he whispered, his face hidden in her hair.
He inhaled deeply and stroked through the strands, smoothing the tangles caused by their day’s work, fluttering the wispy curls at her temples, making her shiver.
“Believe, Dev. I need you to believe. My well of faith is running low.” Her smile trembled on her lips, then she gave it up.
“I know, Beauty. I know.”
Nine
Dev laid the pen aside and squeezed the bridge of his nose, trying to dispel the headache that insisted on pounding behind his eyes. The door to the study opened and closed quietly. Ryan Fortune sat in a leather chair and looked at him.
“Good morning,” he said. “I’ve been talking to my daughter.” He raised his eyebrows in question.
Dev wondered if they were going to continue the discussion of his involvement with Vanessa.
“I understand you have good news about the kidnapping.”
Dev relaxed slightly. “Some news, at any rate. I don’t know whether it’s good or not. Did Vanessa tell you about the rowel she found?”
Ryan shook his head. “She said I should check with you. She didn’t know if you wanted the information known.”
Recalling the episode with Hubcap Johnson and his confession, Dev had to smile. She was learning. He described the rowel. “I’m waiting for Wyatt to let me know who the winner of the calf roping was at that particular rodeo. It may tie in with the name registered at the motel or with the cowboy who worked here. It may give us a real name if the others were aliases.”
Ryan helped himself to coffee. “There’s a Native American in Leather Bucket who handcrafts boots. He also makes spurs and customizes them for cowboys.”
“Customizes?”
“Yeah. Cowboys like to wear their medals from the rodeo circuit as good-luck pieces. Some have them mounted on the rowels of their spurs. Tomahawk will do it for them.”
Dev picked up the pen and pulled a notepad toward him. “Know how I can locate this guy?”
“The Leather Bucket Saddle Shop takes orders for him. He stops in and picks them up once in a while. You can call them for his whereabouts.”
Dev picked up the phone and called information for the number of the shop. Ryan smiled wryly and headed for the door. “I can see you’re eager to get on the job.”
After writing down the address of the saddle shop, Dev put away his notes and locked the desk. He walked around the ornate recliner and looked into the courtyard. The maid was making her rounds of the rooms, cleaning and straightening up after the Fortune clan. He had to admit, a person could get used to being pampered real fast.
His blood speeded up when he saw Vanessa standing by the fountain. She was talking to her uncle Clint.
Dev frowned. He didn’t like the man. Not that he had anything against him. But…he didn’t like him. He didn’t mention this to Vanessa. She would simply jump to the man’s defense as she did for everyone on the ranch. She couldn’t believe anyone on the premises would want to hurt another person. They were all one big happy family.
Except for the person who had a grudge against them.
“You and the FBI agent seem to be keeping close company these days.”
Vanessa glanced at her uncle and smiled. “I’m helping with the case by writing a profile of the kidnappers. He doesn’t seem to appreciate my advice.”
“A difficult person, huh? I’ve never known anyone who could hold out against the Fortune charm for long.”
An uneasy feeling ran down her spine. She couldn’t tell if Uncle Clint was being sarcastic or not. There had been just a bit of an edge to his words. However, his smile was without guile. She was becoming as suspicious of everyone as Dev was.
“Dev’s got a cast-iron heart.”
As soon as the words were out, she regretted them.
“Ah, you can’t bend him to your will?” he teased.
She wrinkled her nose in mock dismay. “He thinks I’m the spoiled daughter of the house and should return to my tea parties or whatever and get out of his hair. He should know that Fortunes don’t give up that easily.”
“Yeah,” Clint said. “He should.”
Vanessa observed the thinning of her uncle’s lips and the hard set of his jaw. He slapped a willow switch against the stone edge of the fountain.
Agitation, she diagnosed, rather than absentminded fidgeting. Her uncle was tense.
“Is there any word at all?” he suddenly demanded. “God, I’m sick of this waiting for a call or something from the kidnappers. What the hell are they doing?”
Slap, slap.
She touched his shoulder in sympathy. “I wish I knew.”
“I can’t see that the damned FBI is doing a thing.”
“They are. Dev is. He’s…checking every fact over again.”
Slap. “Wyatt had every deputy in the county do that. Not to mention Ryan had Sam Waterman guarding the ranch and Lily’s place as if they were the national mint.” Slap.
She sighed in despair. “I know. It’s so frustrating.”
“Hasn’t the agent come up with anything new?”
Slap. Slap. Slap.
For a second she was tempted to tell him about the rowel. After all, he was a relative. Baby Bryan was his great-nephew.
“Why would the FBI stay on the case if they didn’t know something?” Slap.
The sound grated on her nerves, but she didn’t tell him to stop. Tamping back the impulse to explain everything to him, she shook her head. “I don’t know.”
He gave her a sharp glance. His eyes were blue and surrounded by long curling lashes that were gorgeous. However, his body was honed into toughness by his ye
ars of ranch work, giving a lie to the pretty-boy appearance of his face. He had a way of jutting his chin out and holding his mouth that was sort of arrogant. He looked that way now.
“Well, look who’s here,” he muttered.
She turned to see. Her heart pounded like mad as Dev approached them. His eyes flicked over her, leaving prickles along every nerve in her body. The scent of his aftershave lightly wafted around her as he stopped beside them. He was like the cool breath of a morning breeze.
“Good morning,” he greeted them in his gravely polite way, his face pleasant but unrevealing.
She was glad she hadn’t told her father and uncle about the new clue. Dev wouldn’t have liked it.
“You heard anything?” Clint demanded.
“Nothing from the kidnappers.”
Dev made a quick survey of the other man. Lockhart was dressed in work clothes and smelled of horses and leather, which was not an unpleasant odor, he had discovered.
Especially when it was combined with Vanessa’s sweet scent. He was very familiar with the colognes she wore—not perfume because animals were sensitive to strong smells, she had explained. The sun was heating up the courtyard, making it easy for him to detect the roses and jasmine among the attractive plantings.
He glanced at Vanessa, a question in his eyes. “I need to go to town.”
“I’d like to come, too,” she quickly said. “If that’s okay.”
He nodded, aware that her uncle took in every word. He sighed internally. Probably every person on the ranch knew they were lovers by now. Apparently they hadn’t done a very good job of concealing their involvement. He wondered if he would get another lecture about letting her down easy.
“How long are you going to hang around here?” Lockhart demanded, his chin thrust out.
Dev resisted an urge to punch the man. “As long as it takes,” he replied, careful to keep any inflection of anger from his tone.
Lockhart gave an impatient snort.
Maybe it was the land, not family genetics, that made the hill country Texans impatient.
“I’ll get my purse.”
He subdued a smile as Vanessa hurried off, ready to pursue whatever path opened before her.
