by Angi Morgan
Lauren was gone and there was no one to find her. The light pat on her back reminded her that the sheriff was politely waiting.
“Alicia, you know that wasn’t me. I don’t think you’re using Lauren for publicity.”
“I don’t know what to do, Ralph.” She needed to pull herself together one more time so he could leave. “Sorry I had to call you again, but I couldn’t get out of the hospital door with those vultures wanting a statement.”
The press had hounded her, comparing her to a desperate, unstable woman. Implying she’d kidnapped her own little girl for the ransom. The local newspaper had made the first insinuations in their weekly editorial. Reporting that she was broke, unable to pay her bills because she was in the process of suing her sweet mother-in-law for Lauren’s trust fund.
“It’s all so stupid crazy, Ralph. If anyone is hungry for cash, it’s Shauna. Everyone knows she married Dwayne’s dad for the money. Goodness, she was the same age as her stepson. She hated me in high school and especially hated me after I married Dwayne. Even more after Roy left everything in a trust to Lauren.”
Another slow, awkward pat.
Pull it together.
“You should go. I’m fine. Really,” she finally managed.
“Lock the doors, Alicia. I don’t think it’s safe.”
She nodded, but if the kidnappers had wanted to kill her, it would have been much easier when they’d taken her baby. As it was, they were successfully framing her for their actions.
“I mean it, girl. They may be back to finish what they started. You could have died from being locked in that car.”
“I’m fine.” She feared her own neighbors more. That people she’d known all her life might take a mob mentality and throw bricks through her windows. Hadn’t that happened to a mother of another kidnapped little girl?
“As long as you stay inside, you’ll be fine.” He patted her shoulder again, following with a little squeeze before heading to the door. “Lauren will be fine, too. We’ll find her. I promise you that.”
“Without any idea where she’s been taken? Who’s really looking?”
He dipped his head again, raised his hat to his head and stood on the outside of the screen, tapping the doorknob.
Alone. No one to hold on to.
Alicia dropped her face into her hands. “What am I going to do?”
“Find someone without connections to the Webers,” he said through the glass, still waiting and pointing until she locked the door.
The silence was deafening after his car pulled away. How many nights over the past three and a half years had she begged for a moment alone? With no responsibility? Each moment spent away from Lauren, she’d been working doubles at the hospital. And now? Just one sweet giggle asking for another drink of water. That was all she wanted to hear.
She wiped more tears and stood straight. What she needed was money. Shauna had Lauren hidden somewhere. She watched the sheriff drive away and turned the dead bolt. Money would help her find her daughter.
She had to break her promise and sell her dad’s Camaro. There was one person who might want it just as badly as she did.
Johnny.
* * *
“YOU CAN’T AVOID this forever. I’ve already given him his meds. Next round is written on the schedule. He needs his exercises after lunch.” Brian grabbed his gym bag off the back porch and tossed it over his shoulder. “I’ve got to go.”
“Where are you headed?” John asked, letting the screen slam behind him. He wanted Brian to answer the question instead of ignoring him like he had since he’d returned. Other than instructions about their dad, Brian hadn’t said anything except “pass the butter,” at breakfast. John’s brother worked from sunup till past midnight every day, breaking only for meals and to take care of their dad.
And now he was taking off to go to “work” for four days?
“All you need to know is written down. Since Alicia can’t be here, call Mabel if you need something.”
“Shouldn’t we hire another nurse or a proper physical therapist?” His brother’s announcement last night that it was John’s turn to take care of their dad had thrown him for a loop. He had no training for this sort of duty.
Helping his father—other than in and out of the wheelchair—wasn’t like facing down the enemy. But for some reason making a mistake scared him to death.
“I won’t do that to Alicia. And neither will you.” Brian shook his head, adding to the disgust already plain on his face. “Truth is, we can’t afford it. Dad doesn’t have insurance. Alicia’s been coming by without payment until I get some cash. She insisted. I’ll pay her eventually, but I have to sell one of the mares. I’ve been having problems, since she’s in Dad’s name.”
“I can pay. How much do you need?”
“Keep your money.”
“It’s for Dad,” John said, stopping before he spouted what he really thought about his brother’s pride.
Things were a lot worse than John had imagined, but even then, his brother’s loyalty to Alicia wasn’t a battle he was willing to wage. Stick to Brian’s plan and negotiate peace when the time is right.
“Four days. Then we’ll suffer through a discussion,” Brian grudgingly mumbled.
The ranch and his dad were a different story. Brian couldn’t keep him from looking at the financials while he was gone to “work.”
“I’m not sure of what to do with Dad.”
“There’s a list of exercises on the stand next to his bed. It will give you a chance to talk to him without me around. You can complain all you want.” Brian shoved his hair off his face and pulled an old beat-up straw hat onto his head. “Mabel said she’s glad to help with Dad and is five minutes across the road.”
“I remember where Mrs. Standridge lives. Why are you wearing Dad’s hat?” His brother shot him a look and stuffed the hat harder on his head. “You could drive the rental to wherever you’re headed. I don’t have to return it for another couple of days.”
“Now, why would I want to do that?” He tossed his gym bag into the front of the truck and climbed in. “Don’t call her unless you really need to impose.”
“Don’t impose. Right,” John mumbled to a trail of dust mixed with gas fumes. “Four days without a freaking clue. Is that a reason to impose?”
Talking to his brother was more difficult than facing a terrorist. Brian was right about one thing—speaking to his dad had always been easy. But that was a long time ago, before two-minute conversations or voice-mail tag had become their routine. Long before his dad had such a hard, frustrating time just communicating that he wanted a sip of water. Maybe he could talk about some of his war stories? His dad might enjoy those.
But storytelling would have to wait until he’d checked forty sets of hooves. Made certain the rest of the herd was moved to the front pasture—what was left of it—and had plenty of water. Checked the fence line, which meant saddling an unfamiliar horse and riding for the first time in twelve years. In between the three-page to-do list, he was supposed to check on his father every half hour.
How had Brian kept up with the work four hired men had accomplished while they’d been growing up? And why had he left with only a small bag for four days?
Well, if Brian could do it, he could do it. He wanted to do it. If he could handle hotheaded naval aviators, he could handle some chores he’d done most of his childhood.
Piece of cake.
Chapter Four
He couldn’t do it.
Saddle sore, John wanted to drop in a chair, turn on a mind-numbing rerun of an old television show and drink a beer. If he’d been in San Diego, that was exactly what he would be doing. Or hitting the beach.
Of course, if he’d been at home in front of his TV, he wouldn’t be frustrated at not completi
ng any task on Brian’s list. He’d consistently been aware of each minute slithering by. The stops and starts of checking on his dad had disrupted each job he’d begun. As a result, he hadn’t finished anything.
After a couple of hours he’d admitted he was out of his element. He’d run and trained almost every day since leaving home, but every part of him was sore in a different way. By lunch he’d called Mrs. Standridge. He wasn’t ashamed to ask for help. He was used to teamwork, admitting his shortcomings and working to improve.
As soon as she’d arrived, he’d seen the look in his dad’s eyes change. Brian could have been a little more specific that their father was embarrassed for anyone to see him. Mable had let him know a couple of hours ago she’d fed his dad breakfast for a late lunch, something J.W. could eat almost on his own. J.W. clearly didn’t want her in the house, but there wasn’t a choice. They needed help.
The excruciating one-hundred-plus temperature had climbed along with the sun. By the heat of the afternoon, it had hit 109. Might just make it down to ninety-eight later that night. Finally some relief. Ha! He hadn’t experienced a Texas summer since his teens. He’d like to see Brian survive after being dropped in the middle of a desert, dressed in full gear. He missed the ocean breeze and his run along the beach in California.
Different life. Time to concentrate on this one and see if Brian would allow him to return home more often. Yeah, he was seeking permission from his brother.
Which meant getting inside and tackling more things on the list. But first, he needed to get some of the sweat off him. One bathroom meant no shower until Mabel left. He crossed to the watering trough he’d just filled, pulled his shirt off and stuck his head under. The water cooled him like the shock of jumping in the Pacific.
He shook his head and swiped his hand over his face to sluice the water off before he headed to the house. The distinct hum of his favorite Camaro pulled behind him and stopped.
The last person he’d expected to see was Alicia. When he turned, there she was, one hand gripping the steering wheel, one hand gripping her cell. She didn’t make a move to get out of the car. According to the news he’d just heard, her kid was still missing. Why was she here?
Lost. He’d seen that look before.
The petrified stare of someone who had no options.
“Alicia?” He opened the car door, reached across and turned the engine off then leaned on the roof. “Hey, you okay?”
“No.”
A whisper of desperation. Tears trickling from swollen eyes. She barely resembled the confident woman who’d met him in the driveway.
“They can’t find her and...”
“I want to help, but I’m not certain what I can do.”
He could see her trying to keep control by blowing air through her puffed cheeks. It wasn’t working. Again, out of his element. Should he get her out of the car and take her inside or bring Mabel out here?
“They— I thought— I have to sell the car, but he just called....” She shook her head. Tears streamed from her red-rimmed eyes. “They’ve arrested him.”
“Who? Did they find your daughter?”
“No. It was— Brian just called.”
“Is Brian buying the car? He’s not here.” He should get Mabel. Maybe she could understand and tell him what this was all about.
Alicia turned to him, took a deep breath before she made eye contact. “They arrested Brian for Lauren’s kidnapping.”
* * *
ALICIA LOOKED AROUND the faded yellow kitchen in the Sloane house. She’d spent lots of summer days with the twins’ mother here. Waiting on fresh lemonade or homemade peanut-butter cookies. More recently, she’d spent time cooking simple meals for J.W. and Lauren while Brian handled ranch stuff.
Or at least she’d thought he’d been handling ranch stuff.
Of course he was. Don’t start doubting him. He’s not the kidnapper or a drug dealer like half the town thinks. Shauna’s behind the kidnapping. You just have to prove she’s guilty.
“Here you go, dear. I have dinner for you both whenever you’re ready.”
“Thanks, Mabel. I’m not really hungry.” Alicia took a cool wet cloth and placed it over her eyes. She was so tired of thinking. So tired of trying to decide how or where to start.
“Did you find out anything?” John asked.
“Well, that silly receptionist or whoever they have answering the phones said they won’t let anyone talk to Brian until after he’s been formally charged.” Mabel continued to move around the kitchen as she spoke. “I wanted to send Dave Krueger over for representation, but they told her Brian didn’t want a lawyer and then mentioned your brother was being cheap and stubborn.”
“I can’t believe Brian refused a lawyer or that the situation has spun out of control so rapidly.” Cheap and stubborn. She totally understood those two words. She heard Johnny grunt from the doorway. “Did they arrest him based on an anonymous tip?”
“That’s why they initially pulled him over. Then they found Lauren’s toys behind the seat,” Mabel said, patting her shoulder once and moving away.
Alicia used her palms to keep the cloth in place. Her eyes were swollen and burning from the constant crying. “We told her not to play in the truck. This is all my fault he’s in jail.”
“No, dear, it’s not,” Mabel said. “And tomorrow morning he’ll be charged or free. I’ll make certain he has a good lawyer whether he wants one or not.”
“I’m so glad you’re here for J.W.,” she told Mabel, removing the cool cloth and feeling calmer just sitting at the old dining table. Her insides still shook, but she could talk rationally again. The anxiety wouldn’t leave until Lauren was back safe and sound.
“I am, too.” John’s deep voice rumbled softly through the room. “Thanks for calling the police station. I moved Dad back to bed. I’d like to see Brian ASAP. Can you stay? I hate to ask, but I’ll probably need to be gone tomorrow as well if he’s not released.”
“Not a problem.” Mabel folded the kitchen towel and laid it on the dish drain. “Let me run home and feed the dog. I believe the jail opens at eight in the morning. I’m an early riser but I don’t think you’d want me at five, so I’ll come at seven-thirty. Be right back.”
Alicia replaced the washcloth against her face while Mabel gently shut the door and left. Hot air from outside drifted across the room. She didn’t know how to look at this man. Or how to talk to him. Or how to apologize or explain her behavior. So much had happened since he’d left home, and he seemed to be clueless.
Where did she begin?
By looking at him.
She wiped her face one last time and set the cloth aside. He’d put a shirt on. His hair was still wet, but she’d heard the shower while Mabel had washed dishes.
“You doing okay?” John asked.
She watched by peeking through her fingers as he turned one of the old metal dining chairs away from the table, sat and leaned across the back.
“Brian sits exactly like that. But I’d never think you were him.”
John’s bland expression subtly switched to annoyance as he tapped the table. Easily spotted on a man who didn’t really show much emotion.
“You and Brian a thing now?”
“No. It’s not anything like that.”
“Why don’t you explain just how it is? If you’re up to it.” John didn’t move. He was tall enough that when he sat in a chair he still seemed to tower over her. “You should probably start with why the police booked him for your daughter’s kidnapping and why the first person he told was you.”
“Shauna’s responsible for the anonymous tip. I’m certain she’s trying to frame Brian and me. Sheriff Coleman thinks so, too, even though he can’t say that to anyone else.”
“Did he say it to you?” John remained steady, his
arms crossed over the top of the chair. His eyes constantly moved between her and his dad.
“No. But he didn’t disagree when I said it. You need to take care of Brian. I just came to see if you wanted to buy the car.”
“Shauna who? And why do you need money?”
“Shauna Weber was Dwayne’s stepmother and the reason my accounts are frozen.”
“Why would his stepmother freeze your assets?”
“Because she’s a money-hungry bi— Sorry, I can’t talk rationally about her. Look, Johnny, can you buy the car? I need money for a private investigator. It’s the only way I’ll ever find Lauren before Shauna pretends to find her and takes her away from me.”
“That’s quite an assumption, Alicia.”
“I’m not assuming anything.” Shoving the chair backward, it hit the kitchen wall. She was losing it. She forced herself to sit and take cleansing breaths before she babbled again. She couldn’t look at him to see what he thought of her outburst and couldn’t imagine why he wasn’t lecturing her, like anyone else she’d tried to confide in. “It’s the only explanation. Shauna has frozen Dwayne’s assets, including Lauren’s trust fund, and I...I just need the cash for the car. If you still want it, that is. Then I can get out of your hair.”
“You mean the court froze everything,” he corrected.
“Shauna took me to court. As if she has a right to any of that money. It belongs to my daughter. I hate having to use it, but it was our only support while the will was being contested. Now there’s nothing except a few home-care clients who stuck with me.”
Would he remember the same friendship they’d had as kids? Be sympathetic enough to give her more than the car’s estimated value? She gathered her courage to make eye contact with him. But his gaze was toward the living area and his father.
“The house wasn’t built for wheelchair access.” She attempted to draw his attention again. “Brian set J.W.’s bed there so he could work here at the table and still see him.”
“Back to Brian’s arrest,” he said, lowering his voice. “Why my brother? If you’re just friends, what does he have to do with your daughter?”
