“Think we could get a booth in the corner, away from curious ears? I still haven’t had lunch.” The detective started for the café.
Mariah scowled at the man. How could he be thinking about food when a six-year-old girl was missing?
“It’s a small town, but folks’ll give us the privacy we need.” Jackson followed, pulling her along beside him. She didn’t understand how he could be so calm when she was aching to get out and pound the hills, looking for Hailey.
The townsfolk who had gathered nearby offered words of encouragement as they walked away. Once they were seated in the back corner booth in the café and Detective Kincaid had placed his order with Trudy, he pulled a worn leather notebook from his jacket pocket. Was it just yesterday morning that she and Jackson had eaten a casual breakfast in this same restaurant?
“So, what’s your relationship? You two seem rather tight.”
Sheriff Parker, seated next to Kincaid, cleared his throat and looked to be fighting a grin. If the townsfolk had any doubts about their feelings for one another, they no longer did after Jackson’s hug and kiss outside.
He stared at the sheriff for a moment, then glanced at her. What exactly was their relationship? She was interested in hearing his response.
“I suppose you know my history,” he said.
Kincaid’s eyes lit up and dimples in his cheeks made him even more charming. “Are you kidding? Played football myself in college—University of Oklahoma—’bout the same time your career was in full swing. What quarterback didn’t dream of following in your footsteps?”
Irritated that he was talking sports instead of getting info on Hailey, Mariah chimed in, “Don’t we have more important things to talk about than sports?”
Jackson squeezed her hand under the table and pulled it over so that it rested against his leg. “Mariah came to do a story on me for the Dallas Observer.”
“I didn’t think you did interviews anymore. Haven’t read anything about you in years.” Kincaid jotted something in his notebook.
“I don’t normally, but my brother Evan thought we needed to promote our ranch and cooked up the idea. Kind of surprised me.”
Kincaid eyed Mariah unabashedly. “Yeah, I can see why you’d be surprised—pleasantly surprised.”
She felt torn between embarrassment, anger and pleasure that a man would think her pretty. But she didn’t think Kincaid’s comment pleased Jackson much.
“So, how are you going to help find my daughter?” His gaze challenged the lawman’s.
“Another detective drove up and met me here—Sam Davidson. He’s questioning people and checking to see if anybody knows anything. Have you noticed any strangers in town lately?”
“I talked to one yesterday,” the sheriff said. “There were several others who stopped for gas, but nobody knows where they are now.”
“Mariah is new to town, but she’s been with me most of the time.” Jackson pulled out his cell phone and glanced at it.
“She’s staying with you?” A straw-colored eyebrow quirked up. He wrote something else in that book of his.
“She wrecked her car trying to avoid one of my horses that got spooked. Westin’s a little town. There aren’t any motels, in case you didn’t notice. I let Ms. Reyes use my spare bedroom while her car is being repaired.”
“Hmm.”
Mariah wondered what Kincaid’s “hmm” meant and why Jackson referred to her as Ms. Reyes.
“So, Durant, you got any enemies?”
THIRTEEN
Tired from answering the detective’s questions and searching for Hailey for several hours, Mariah sat on the couch in Jackson’s living room and stared at the orange flames flickering in the fireplace. Every fifteen seconds or so, the blur of Jackson’s pacing body passed through her line of vision. His boots pounded out a dull rhythm, back and forth on the floor.
Her body cried for sleep, but her mind couldn’t settle down any more than Jackson’s could. Who had taken his sweet little girl? And why? Where was she now? There’d been no ransom note, even though the detectives had expected one.
They found out that Deuce had been doing some early supper prep when Kelly first called and told him about Hailey. He’d dropped everything, and along with Justin, he had gone into town to help in the search. After Jackson stopped by the house to see if Hailey had somehow made it home, Detective Kincaid had made them stay there in case a ransom call was received.
But that call never came.
Kincaid had said an estranged spouse was most frequently the one to abduct a child, but since there was no other parent, he was leaning toward either someone who recognized Jackson and wanted money from him or a random abduction by a stranger. No one could explain Ms. Garrett’s absence—unless she’d been the one to take Hailey.
That thought made Mariah’s blood run cold. Surely Jackson had checked her out before hiring her to watch his daughter. What if a stranger had grabbed Hailey and Ms. Garrett? Jackson’s daughter was a beautiful, friendly child who had a smile for everyone. With people coming to the ranch all the time to buy horses, she was used to being around strangers. And the sheriff said there had been several in town today. His deputies were working on tracking them down. The one stranger who remained in town had been visiting friends and had an airtight alibi.
Weary, she looked up at Jackson as he passed in front of her again. His dark eyebrows scrunched into a straight line and his lips moved in a steady, silent prayer.
What did a man whose daughter had been kidnapped say to God? Why didn’t Jackson throw something in rage and yell at the Man Upstairs for allowing this horrible thing to happen? How could he stay so calm—so composed?
The truth hit her hard.
Jackson’s relationship with God was real. His God was real. And Jackson believed in Him with all his heart. The fact that his daughter was missing hadn’t rattled his faith one iota. Mariah wanted that confident trust. Could she have the same connection with God that Jackson had? What was it he’d told her? Eagles fly above the storms. That was what Jackson was doing.
God, help me. Show me how to soar with the eagles—to fly above these troubles. I don’t know what to do to help. Bring Hailey back home. Please.
Jackson kicked the leg of the coffee table, making her jump. “Waiting for a ransom call is a waste of time. I should be out there, looking for my daughter.”
She stood and ran her hand down his arm. “I know it’s hard to wait. But driving around in the dark won’t help you find Hailey.”
“But just sitting here while she’s out there somewhere, maybe hurt—or— It’s driving me crazy.”
“I know, but like you told me, you have to trust God to keep her safe.”
He dropped onto the couch and ran his hands through his hair. “Will you pray with me, Mariah? Pray for Hailey?”
She wanted to tell him that she just had—in her own feeble way, but her throat had clogged with emotion. She nodded instead.
Jackson turned and slipped onto his knees beside her, and she knelt next to him, shoulder touching shoulder. He clasped her hand and bowed his head. For a long while, she could hear only a low rumbling coming from him—the murmur of a man talking with his God.
“Dear Lord,” he finally whispered out loud, “we don’t know why this awful thing has happened, but You do. You know where my daughter is. Keep her safe. Help her to not be afraid—” Jackson’s voice broke. He tightened his grasp on her hand and pulled it against his chest, as if to draw in her strength.
Mariah clenched her eyes shut at the pain he was enduring. She wanted to take it all away. She didn’t want this big, strong man to suffer. Maybe she could voice the words for him.
“God,” Mariah began, “please take care of Hailey. Protect her. Keep her from being frightened. I remember hearing as a little girl when
I went to church with my mom that You protect Your peo—” The warm drips of Jackson’s tears on her hand were almost her undoing. He now held her hand with both of his and rested his chin against them.
Unable to continue, she grasped his hands. She cleared her throat and swallowed back the burning sting of her own tears. For a long time they knelt in silence. The scent of wood burning in the fireplace, along with its occasional popping and the house creaking when a gust of wind blew, made it almost seem like this was a normal night. But it was far from that.
Jackson’s warm lips moved against her hand. Detective Kincaid’s voice hummed as he talked on his cell phone in the kitchen, where he had set up his temporary headquarters, while Detective Davidson rested on Jackson’s bed. Jackson had known he wouldn’t sleep tonight and had offered his room to the detectives. Kelly attempted to sleep in Hailey’s room, but she kept coming out every half hour to see if there was any news.
Mariah studied the dancing shadows on the Southwest design of the couch as the flames in the fireplace crackled and flickered. Her thoughts drifted back to her own needs. She desperately wanted someone to belong to. Someone who’d love her in spite of her too-quick temper and other shortcomings. Could God love her like that?
Jackson seemed convinced.
What did she have to lose?
Nothing really. Mariah leaned her head against Jackson’s solid shoulder and closed her eyes. She wrestled with what to say, but then she focused on God and allowed the words to flow in her mind.
God, I need You in my life. I want You to be my friend and to help me through the hard times like You help Jackson. But even more, I need someone who can love me. Just as I am, with all my shortcomings. I’ve never known what it’s like to have a real father.
Jackson lifted his head and rolled it back and forth, as if trying to get the kinks out of his neck. Standing, he tugged on her hand and gently pulled her up. For a long while he stared into her eyes, and then he gently ran the back of his forefinger down her cheek. “Thanks for praying with me. You were a big encouragement. Your standing beside me today helped me make it through.”
She felt her cheeks warming at his compliment. She had helped him? It touched her heart to think that maybe her presence had been a comfort rather than a hindrance.
The reflection of the fire danced in his eyes. Something else flickered there. Her chest tightened. Could he really care for her as much as she did for him?
Jackson leaned toward her, his eyelids closing. Warm lips gently touched hers. His kiss sent her heart soaring toward the sky. Wrapping his arms around her, he deepened the kiss, as if drawing in her strength. Too soon, he pulled back, his breathing heavier than before.
He rested his cheek against her forehead, and she nearly collapsed under the weight of his tired body. The man was exhausted but wouldn’t give in to sleep.
“Does Hailey ever have trouble sleeping?”
“Why do you ask?” he said, his voice husky.
“Does she?” Mariah listened to Jackson’s heart beating where her cheek now rested against his soft flannel shirt.
“Sure. When she was younger, thunderstorms scared her. I’d hold her in my arms in the recliner until she went to sleep.” A gentle chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Sometimes I’d fall asleep, too, and we’d spend half the night there.”
Mariah pushed away and took him by the hand. “Come on.” She led him to his big recliner in the corner. “Sit,” she ordered.
Jackson lifted his eyebrow with a flicker of amusement at her command. Then his shoulders sagged. “You know I can’t sleep.”
“Maybe you can’t sleep, but you can at least relax and rest a bit. All your pacing is making me tired—and wearing out the floorboards. You need some rest if we’re going to search tomorrow. Sit!” She crossed her arms, preparing for an argument.
He plowed his hand through his hair, leaving stiff tracks. Expelling a heavy sigh, he gave her a long stare, then flopped in the recliner and popped up the footrest.
“That’s my boy.”
An ornery smile tilted his lips. “Your boy?”
“I—” She didn’t know what to say. When had she started thinking about him as belonging to her?
Jackson’s hand snaked out and grabbed hers. He gave it a tug. She moved closer. He gave another tug until she was pressed up against the side of the chair.
His thumb rubbed back and forth on hers as he stared into her eyes, as if looking for something. “C’mere.”
His next tug pulled her sideways and she fell against him. Stunned, she wasn’t sure what to do, but she pushed up on the arm of the chair, and Jackson scooted over in the huge chair and helped her to get situated beside him.
He wrapped his arm around her. “If I have to rest, so do you.” His gentle smile and the ache in his eyes were her undoing. Tears blurred her vision. Tears for Hailey. Tears for herself, because she’d be leaving soon and going back to Dallas. She cuddled in and rested her head against his cheek. For now, she’d hold him for as long as she could.
Because she loved him.
* * *
Jackson drove down the country road, dying a slow death. Hailey had been missing for twenty-four hours. He’d called the families of all her friends, but no one had seen her. Neither had anybody in town—at least not since she was taken. He swallowed the hard lump in his throat and blinked away tears. Visions of a vile man driving his frightened child farther and farther away from home assaulted him. If the captor had fled with Hailey when she’d first gone missing yesterday morning, they could be anywhere by now. Colorado. Florida. Maybe even—Mexico.
No! His grip on the steering wheel tightened. He couldn’t allow that kind of thought to take over. Protect Hailey, Lord, and Ms. Garrett, wherever they are. Help me find them.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he rolled his aching head back and forth. Against his wishes, he and Mariah were headed home again. Detective Kincaid insisted that he remain there in case they got a ransom call. But earlier this morning, he and Mariah had slipped away to attend a special prayer meeting at church while Detective Kincaid grabbed some sleep. Jackson had needed the support of his church family.
Glancing at Mariah, he wondered what she thought of the prayer time. Afterward, they’d joined one of the search teams until he’d received Kincaid’s adamant call to return home. The way the townsfolk had rallied around him warmed his heart. Many friends and acquaintances, who were still helping with the search, had told them they were praying for him and Hailey.
The truck rumbled down the road. Jackson’s gaze darted to Mariah. A smile tugged at his lips as he thought of how they’d shared the chair last night. It had been nice holding her—not being alone. But even with her comfort, he’d gotten only a few hours of sleep because he couldn’t stop worrying about Hailey. He couldn’t stand the thought of someone hurting her. He gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white.
Mariah patted his arm and offered an encouraging smile, but he could see the worry in her gaze.
A light snow began to fall, so he flipped on his wipers. Was Hailey cold? Out in the elements? Was she still with Ms. Garrett? He gritted his teeth. He wanted to yell. Throw something. Never since he’d become a father had he felt so helpless.
He blew out a loud breath and glanced at Mariah. He needed to think of something else for a few moments or he’d go crazy. Her head rested against the side window as she stared out. He loved running his fingers through her silky hair. He loved how her dark eyes sparked when something irritated her. He admired her tenacious spirit and feisty temper. Her unwavering support since Hailey had gone missing. She was a beautiful woman, inside and out. But one huge thing stood between them—her story. What would she say if he asked her to not write it? Would she respect his wishes?
Mariah turned and looked at him, then glanced away. “Is there�
�uh—anywhere around here that we could stop soon?”
“We’ll be back at the ranch in fifteen or twenty minutes.”
She nibbled her lower lip, and her cheeks flamed. Her leg jiggled ninety miles an hour. “I really don’t think I can wait that long.”
He chuckled when she wouldn’t look at him. She could barge her way in, like a big splinter under the skin, disrupting a man’s life while researching her story, but talking about a natural thing like needing to go to the bathroom embarrassed her.
“We’ll come to Lance’s place soon. Will that work?”
“Yes, thanks.” She glanced at him and flashed a shy smile. “Do you think we can get in? Lance was back at the search point when we left.”
“Yeah, he never locks his door.”
Jackson watched the trees and scenery blur by. He didn’t want to mention what he’d found out this morning, but he had to. “I saw Tim Denton earlier. He said he made a drive to Tulsa yesterday and got the parts needed to fix your car. Should be ready by Thursday.”
Mariah caught his gaze. “That’s good, but I can’t leave with Hailey missing.”
Jackson nodded and swallowed several times to work the tightness from his throat, hoping—praying—they’d find her today. “How’s your...uh...story coming?”
She pinned him with another stare. “That’s the last thing I’m worried about right now. Though I guess I’ll have to work on it at some point, since my deadline’s quickly approaching.”
He drove the final few miles to Lance’s house, contemplating what kind of story Mariah would write. What would her focus be? Would she tell the whole world where he lived now and thus open the gate for other snoopy media people to converge and destroy his peaceful life? He blew out a sigh.
Some peaceful world! Someone had already wrecked havoc on him. Blown up his sign. Set fire to his barn. Could the same person have taken his daughter? Or maybe it was more than one person. Could Ms. Garrett somehow be in cahoots with the kidnapper? He’d been given a glowing recommendation of the bodyguard by a close friend, so he didn’t see how that was possible. He’d give up the whole ranch and walk away if it would bring Hailey back.
Rancher Under Fire Page 16
