by Rita Herron
If—no, when—he found this guy he might just kill him instead of putting him in handcuffs.
* * *
THE MORNING PASSED like a horror show as Rose watched the crime scene workers and firefighters try to salvage her home and process the ruins.
Maddox stood by, overseeing the situation and offering her comforting looks, but the reality was that her house was gone, her belongings were gone and the only parents she’d ever known were gone.
She was alone.
Even the one friend she’d made in town had betrayed her.
Maddox insisted on driving her to his ranch, although first they stopped at the general store so she could pick up toiletries and a few necessities.
She chose the items on autopilot, simple T-shirts and a couple of pairs of jeans. At this point, clothes were unimportant. Surviving and figuring out the truth about her past was all that mattered.
When they arrived at Maddox’s ranch, the beauty of the land compared to the smoky rubble of her rental house brought a wave of sadness and longing for a home of her own. One she actually owned, not one she just rented because her parents had trained her not to get attached to anything. A real home with sweet memories and family and people who loved her.
Mama Mary welcomed her with a hug. Maddox explained about the fire, and Mama Mary ushered Rose to the guest room on the second floor, coaxed her into the bathroom for a warm bath and promised her breakfast when she was ready.
Rose ran some hot water, poured in the bubble bath Mama Mary had left for her, and sank into the tub. She closed her eyes, letting the bath soothe her and wash away the stench of the fire.
But she couldn’t wash away the fear consuming her or the reality that someone still wanted her dead.
Finally, when the water cooled, she dressed and walked down the steps. Mama Mary was pouring coffee into a mug and handed it to her. “Sit down here, honey, and relax. Maddox is visiting with his daddy. He’ll be down in a minute.”
Rose sipped the coffee, once again warmed by the comfortable furniture, the homey scents of sausage and bacon cooking, and the photos of the McCullen boys.
She didn’t know what kind of men his brothers had grown up to be, but Maddox was a strong, admirable man.
He’d run into a burning house to save her music boxes.
No man had ever done anything so heroic for her.
The memory of the way he’d held her and made love to her played through her head, rousing other emotions, and her heart fluttered with longing for another evening in his arms.
Footsteps sounded, and Maddox entered the room, dressed in a fresh chambray shirt and jeans, his damp hair combed back, his rugged face cleanly shaven. God, he was handsome.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him as he gave Mama Mary a hug, accepted a mug of coffee and joined her at the table for breakfast.
In spite of the fear still pressing against her chest, she offered Maddox a tentative smile. His dark gaze settled on her, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he wanted to smile but knew that she’d been through hell and he needed to give her time to recover.
Dear Lord...she was falling in love with him.
The thought jolted her, sending fear streaking through her. She couldn’t fall in love with Maddox or any other man.
Loving someone meant losing them, and she couldn’t bear any more pain than she’d already had.
* * *
MADDOX WASHED HIS FOOD down with coffee, grateful Mama Mary had taken care of Rose while he visited with his father. Meanwhile, Marshal Norton had phoned saying they needed to talk.
Rose thanked Mama Mary, and so did he. Then he stood. “That marshal is on his way here. If you want, you can wait with Mama Mary in the kitchen. Or if you need to lie down, you’re welcome to the guest room.”
“No, Maddox,” Rose said firmly. “I can’t run from the questions or the truth, we both know that.” Her chin lifted defiantly. “You may think I’m weak, but I can face whatever happens.”
“No one said you were weak,” Maddox said gruffly. “Frankly, under the circumstances you’ve held up extremely well.”
The doorbell chimed, and she followed him to the door. Marshal Norton was a tall, thin man with a goatee. He was dressed in jeans, a western tie and shirt and a Stetson. They made quick introductions, and the marshal flashed his identification. Maddox scrutinized it carefully. He’d been fooled by that phone call. No way would he be fooled again.
Satisfied the ID looked real, Maddox led them both to the office he shared with his father, the one that would soon be his when his father passed.
Unless his brothers came back to stay...
He bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t have time to think about that now.
Marshal Norton’s eyes flashed with interest as he looked at Rose, and Maddox gritted his teeth. Damn, he’d never been a jealous man.
Because he’d never cared about a woman before.
And he cared about Rose?
God yes, he cared about her.
“Miss Worthington, I’m glad to meet you,” the marshal said.
Rose gave him a wary look. “I wish I could say the same. But I never thought I’d be dealing with the law, especially the US Marshals Service.”
“I’m sorry,” Norton said. “But we do need to talk.”
Maddox offered the man coffee, but he declined. He and Rose seated themselves on the sofa while Norton claimed the leather wing chair by the oak coffee table.
Now the man was here, Maddox was anxious to get the ball rolling. The sooner they knew the truth, the sooner he could solve this case and Rose would be safe. “You said you have information.”
A vein in Norton’s neck bulged. “Yes. The prints at the Worthingtons’ house registered.” He faced Rose, his hands folded, his expression grim. “The people who raised you, the Worthingtons, were not your birth parents. Their real names were Millie and Lloyd Curtain.”
“The ME already gave us their names,” Maddox said.
Rose rubbed at her temple. “What happened to my birth parents? And how did I come to live with the Worthingtons?”
“They kidnapped you from a foster home when you were four.”
Maddox reached over to put a hand on Rose’s shoulder, but she stiffened and shrugged it off. “Why would they take me?” Rose asked in a raw whisper.
“Because your birth parents were murdered.”
Chapter Nineteen
Rose clenched her hands. Her birth parents had been murdered? “Who killed them? And why?”
“We don’t know details yet, but we have suspicions.”
“Then tell us what you do know, and what your theory is,” Maddox interjected. “And start from the beginning. Rose was the girl in that photo on the milk carton?”
Norton nodded, then angled his head toward Rose “Yes. Your birth parents’ names are Donna and Keith Hudgens.”
“And my name?” Rose asked.
“Hailey.”
Hailey Hudgens. Rose gulped, then rolled the name over and over in her head. “Why don’t I remember them?”
A pregnant pause, then Norton cleared his throat. “We believe you witnessed their murder. The doctors at the hospital said you were traumatized by their deaths.”
Rose struggled with his declaration. That dream she’d had that had seemed so real—it must have been her memory returning. But she didn’t feel like sharing that yet. She wanted more information from the marshal.
Maddox cleared his throat. “So what happened to the Hudgenses? Where are they buried?”
“Actually we didn’t know where they were, not until you found those remains on the cabin property.”
Rose gasped. “The skeleton in the storm shelter and the one in the grave were my parents?”
“Yes.”
“If you don’t know who killed them,” Maddox asked, “do you know the reason they were murdered?”
Norton folded his hands on his knees. “We believe the Hudgenses and Curtains—Worthing
tons—were partners, that they were working with a theft ring that stole over a million dollars. We think your birth parents tried to swindle one of their partners and he killed them.”
Nausea bubbled in Rose’s throat. “My parents were criminals?”
“That’s our theory,” Norton said. “A neighbor called to report a disturbance at the house. When the local sheriff arrived, he found you, Rose—well the little girl Hailey—alone in the house. She was hiding in the closet, but she had blood on her hands and there was blood all over the house.”
Rose stared down at her hands. The images of the red spraying on the wall and floors flashed through her mind.
Norton turned to Rose. “You were traumatized, so they took you to the hospital and treated you for shock. Your parents’ bodies were not in the house, but due to the amount of blood, police believed they were dead. Social services placed you in a foster home. Two days after that, the Curtains kidnapped you and disappeared under the name of Kern. During their escape, they had an accident, which landed you in the hospital and drew suspicion from the police so the couple took you and ran again. That’s when they became the Worthingtons.”
“I still can’t believe this,” Rose whispered.
“The sheriff had reported the kidnapping and had your face put on the milk carton hoping someone would recognize you, but nothing ever came of it.”
“Because my parents, the Worthingtons, kept such a low profile,” Rose said.
Maddox nodded. “Until Thad Thoreau found you,” Maddox said. “Or whoever he was working with did.”
Norton nodded.
Maddox folded his hands. “Were the Worthingtons in WITSEC?”
The marshal shook his head.
“Do you know who killed them?” Maddox asked.
“No.” He addressed Rose. “Actually we thought you might be able to help us with that.”
“I wish I could but I don’t remember anything.” A dozen questions niggled at Rose’s mind. “And why come after me now? It’s been twenty years, and I didn’t remember anything.”
“Whoever killed your birth parents probably thinks you can identify him, or that you know what they did with the stolen money. It’s also possible the killer believes the Worthingtons took the money, and that you might have it.”
“But I don’t,” Rose said instantly. “My parents, I mean the Worthingtons, lived a very frugal life. They didn’t even have a savings account.”
“The Worthingtons could have hidden the money,” Maddox suggested. “Spending it would have drawn attention to them, something they wanted to avoid since they were using assumed identities and were on the run.”
That made sense. And it explained the reason they hadn’t wanted her to participate in activities that would garner attention. The reason they hadn’t encouraged close friendships.
Which meant her entire life had been a lie.
* * *
MADDOX UNDERSTOOD THAT Rose needed time to process the revelations Marshal Norton had just dumped on her. “Did you search the cabin property for the money?”
“We did,” Norton said. “We also searched the house where the Worthingtons were killed and the house where the Hudgenses lived, but found nothing. We didn’t find any hidden bank accounts, either.”
Rose walked over to the window and looked outside for a moment, her body rigid.
The marshal lowered his voice. “Has she talked to you about what happened when she was little?”
Maddox shook his head. Although she had had that nightmare... “No. She said she doesn’t remember anything before she lived with the Worthingtons.”
What would it do to her psyche to push her to remember now?
Rose turned back to face them, her arms crossed. “Do you have a photograph of my birth parents?”
“I can find one,” Marshal Norton said.
“Then get it. I want to see it.”
Norton pulled his tablet from the inside of his jacket, set it on his lap and accessed his files. Seconds later, he angled the screen to face Rose.
“Here is a photograph of the Hudgenses.”
Maddox watched pain flicker across Rose’s face. She resembled her birth mother, with her wavy hair and petite build, while her father was tall with an angular face, sandy brown hair and a mustache.
“Mrs. Hudgens was thirty-one, Mr. Hudgens thirty-four at the time of their murder,” Marshal Norton said.
Rose seemed to soak in their features, a sad look washing over her. “They look so normal, not like criminals.” She glanced up at the marshal. “What did they do for a living?”
“Your mother was a stay-at-home mom,” he said. “Mr. Hudgens was an accountant.”
“So he had access to other people’s money?” Rose said.
“Yes.”
“But you have no proof that the Hudgenses actually stole anything?” Rose asked.
Maddox grimaced. Rose was obviously in denial and didn’t want to face the fact that the people who’d given birth to her and the couple who’d raised her were involved in illegal activities. Who could blame her?
“I’m not at liberty to discuss specifics,” Norton said, “but we have a theory.”
Maddox silently cursed. Why the hell couldn’t all the law enforcement agencies work together? The feds and marshals always treated local sheriffs as if they were morons. He didn’t like it worth a damn.
Rose’s breath hitched, the sound shaky in the silence. “You have the address of the house where my birth parents were murdered?”
Norton arched a brow. “Yes.”
“Give it to me.” She turned to Maddox. “Maybe if I see that house I’ll remember something about their murder and the man who killed them.”
* * *
ROSE REMEMBERED HOW safe she’d felt in Maddox’s arms the night before, how tender yet passionate his lovemaking was, and she wanted to crawl back in his arms again.
To lie with him and have him hold her and make love to her and help her forget the horror of what she’d just learned.
That her birth parents and the people who’d raised her might have been fugitives. That instead of protecting her, the Worthingtons had kidnapped her and gone on the run to avoid prison.
“Thank you for coming,” Maddox told the marshal.
Marshal Norton stood and shook Maddox’s hand, then clasped Rose’s between both of his. “I know this is all a shock to you, but if you remember anything about your childhood or your parents or anyone who might have visited them, please call me.”
“I will.” Rose turned to Maddox. “Maddox, will you take me to the house?” She couldn’t bear to call the Hudgenses her parents.
She didn’t remember them. Didn’t know them.
Maybe she never would remember them.
Part of her wanted to bury her head in the sand, but she couldn’t do that. She needed to face the truth in order to move on.
Besides, if she recognized the person who’d killed the Hudgenses, she could send their killer to prison.
Maddox walked the marshal to the door, then returned to the study. He looked worried. “Are you sure you’re up to this, Rose?”
“Yes. I need to do this, Maddox,” Rose said. “If you don’t want to drive me, I’ll go by myself.”
“No way in hell,” Maddox muttered, his voice gruff. “It’s too dangerous.”
Maddox retrieved his keys from the desk and rushed to tell Mama Mary where they were going. Then they walked outside to his car. The sunlight was waning, storm clouds playing across the land.
Several horses ran free in the pasture, their manes blowing in the wind. They lapsed into a strained quiet as Maddox drove down the long drive to the highway and headed toward Rose’s childhood home.
The house where she’d lived with the Hudgenses until they were murdered and she’d been left alone.
Tumultuous emotions churned inside her. She should feel relieved to know why she and the Worthingtons—Curtains—had never been close. Why she’d never quite felt l
ike she belonged with them.
Instead she felt empty inside and more alone than ever.
* * *
MADDOX CONTEMPLATED THE FACTS of the case. Rose needed time to assimilate the information she’d received and process the idea that both couples who’d called themselves her parents had been in trouble with the law.
She stared out the window as night fell and the wind picked up. Dead leaves swirled across the parched ground, dust blowing across the highway.
He passed an older wood-framed house set back from the road, then drove a mile to the end, where another wood-framed house sat among overgrown scrub brush and weeds. The roof needed repairs, the shutters were rotting and several windowpanes were broken.
“Do you recognize any of this?” Maddox asked.
Rose massaged that scar, her jaw tightening. “No...I don’t think so.”
Maddox parked in the graveled drive, worry knotting his belly. “Don’t push too hard, Rose. You may not have seen the killer’s face that night.”
Rose twisted her hands together. “But what if I did? Maybe I’ve known all along who took my family from me, and I could have sent their killer to prison.”
“You were just a child, Rose. An innocent little girl. You had to be terrified.”
Her eyes looked tormented. “That nightmare I had the other night...I was remembering. I was hiding in a closet. I heard my father shouting, my mother screaming...I saw the blood.”
Maddox went still, but kept his voice calm. “What else do you remember?”
Rose rubbed her forehead. “I don’t know...the rest is a fog.” A haunted look streaked her eyes as she turned to stare at the house. “What if it was the Worthingtons—I mean the Curtains, Maddox? What if the people who pretended to be my family all these years actually murdered my birth parents?”
Chapter Twenty
Rose struggled to recall some detail of the house where she’d supposedly spent the first four years of her life.
But nothing seemed familiar.
The skeletal frame looked old and dilapidated, the wood was mud-splattered and aged, the front yard a minefield of weeds and scrub brush. Three windowpanes were broken, either from storms or from vandals.
