Westin Family Ties

by Alice Sharpe

  All these months he’d anticipated this moment.

  For one interminable moment, he stared into Cassie’s startled sky-blue eyes and couldn’t have felt more winded if a runaway horse had tossed him to the ground and landed on top of him.

  But in the end, nothing had prepared him for the almost physical punch in his heart that came with the first glimpse of her face. The creamy skin, the gently arched brows, the too-wide mouth and slightly long nose, attributes that saved her from cuteness and transported her to true beauty.

  And then his gaze dipped lower and everything changed forever.

  The simple gold band he’d given her three years before still circled her ring finger.

  What was new was the bulging belly beneath where her hand rested. She was pregnant.

  And not just a little bit.

  ALICE SHARPE

  WESTIN FAMILY TIES

  This book is dedicated to my mother, Mary Rose LeVelle.

  I will miss you forever.

  Many thanks to Kellie Waggener who shared not only her

  expertise, but also her passion and excitement for the animals and

  lifestyle that define family ranching.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Alice Sharpe met her husband-to-be on a cold, foggy beach in Northern California. One year later they were married. Their union has survived the rearing of two children, a handful of earthquakes registering over 6.5, numerous cats and a few special dogs, the latest of which is a yellow Lab named Annie Rose. Alice and her husband now live in a small rural town in Oregon, where she devotes the majority of her time to pursuing her second love, writing.

  Alice loves to hear from readers. You can write her at P.O. Box 755, Brownsville, OR 97327. An SASE for reply is appreciated.

  Books by Alice Sharpe

  HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

  746—FOR THE SAKE OF THEIR BABY

  823—UNDERCOVER BABIES

  923—MY SISTER, MYSELF *

  929—DUPLICATE DAUGHTER *

  1022—ROYAL HEIR

  1051—AVENGING ANGEL

  1076—THE LAWMAN’S SECRET SON ‡

  1082—BODYGUARD FATHER ‡

  1124—MULTIPLES MYSTERY

  1166—AGENT DADDY

  1190—A BABY BETWEEN THEM

  1209—THE BABY’S BODYGUARD

  1304—WESTIN’S WYOMING †

  1309—WESTIN LEGACY †

  1315—WESTIN FAMILY TIES †

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Cody Westin—The oldest of the Westin brothers, he thinks he knows why Cassie left him but he’s in for a surprise. Now he must not only plumb the very depths of his heart to understand himself, but also foil the relentless killer who is after her—and their future.

  Cassie Westin—She’s been living in limbo with a broken heart and an explosive secret. Can she can rebuild her marriage—or will her recent past exact an excruciating price on everyone she loves?

  Vera Priestly—What does this wealthy, elderly woman really see the night she peers out her window into the dark?

  Dennis Garvey—This rebellious teen has plenty of reasons to feel vengeful toward the Westin family. Is he angry enough to target the most vulnerable member for ultimate destruction?

  Victoria Banner—Vera’s daughter likes the good life. When that is threatened, she goes on the attack and it doesn’t appear anyone is safe from her wrath.

  Emerson Banner—He’s been handling his mother-in-law’s finances for years but she’s on to his cheating ways. How far will he go to protect himself? Who will he destroy in the process?

  Robert Banner—After his grandmother’s death, this successful restaurateur begins to implode. Is his grief fueled by family troubles or are there other factors at work?

  Donna Cooke—She’s under a lot of stress, but there’s one thing she knows for sure: what’s hers is hers.

  Bennie Yates—What part, if any, did he play in the events that resulted in death and destruction?

  Kevin Cooke—He disappears the day after a murder. Now it seems he’s everywhere but in plain sight. What is he up to? Can anyone find him before it’s too late?

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter One

  Late October, Saturday Night

  Her new name, spoken in a whisper, woke her from a troubled sleep.

  “Laura?”

  She glanced at the clock as she reached for the monitor button. Two o’clock. Before she could respond, the voice continued.

  “Come quickly. Don’t turn on any lights. Hurry.”

  Untangling herself from the rumpled bed sheets, Laura grabbed her robe off the end of the big four-poster, fumbling in the dark.

  No lights? Why?

  Her employer’s suite was through a connecting door, and Laura took the familiar steps quickly, concern for Mrs. Priestly making her heart race. The old lady wasn’t well, and after the stress of the evening who knew what had happened?

  The bed seemed to be empty. Fearing a heart attack or a broken hip, she scanned the Persian carpets. “Mrs. Priestly?”

  The responding voice crackled with undercurrents of distress. “Over here, by the window.”

  Laura finally made out Mrs. Priestly’s frail shape enveloped in the chair that overlooked the riverside garden at the back of the house. In the daylight hours, the view was one of Mrs. Priestly’s favorites.

  But this was the middle of a fall night and not a typical night, either, not even for Idaho. A storm had broken earlier that evening, and all that was visible through the window now were shifting shadows thrown by wind-whipped branches and shrubbery. “You shouldn’t have gotten up without calling for my help,” Laura said gently. “That’s what I’m here for.”

  Mrs. Priestly grabbed Laura’s arm. “I think I just witnessed a murder!”

  “What! Where?”

  The old lady pointed a gnarled finger at the window. “Right out there by the fountain. Can you see a body?”

  Laura peered into the night, but the shadows were too deep. “No. Can you?”

  Mrs. Priestly craned her neck but finally shook her head. “No, not now.”

  “Tell me what happened,” Laura coaxed, hoping the act of talking it out would convince Mrs. Priestly she’d been having a nightmare.

  “Well, I just couldn’t sleep. You know when your mind just keeps racing and racing and you wish you’d said this or you hadn’t said that?”

  “Oh, yes,” Laura said, kneeling beside the old woman’s chair with some difficulty. “Yes, I know that feeling.”

  “Well, I decided I could make it as far as the window without bothering you. You do need your sleep, you know. So I sat here for a while, and then I guess I dozed. I don’t know what woke me, but I swear I saw movement out by the fountain, so I stared harder. It looked like two people. One turned toward the river and took a few steps. I think it was a man.

  “The next thing I knew, the other person struck him to the ground, but when I looked again it all seemed to dissolve. That’s when I called you, Laura. I hate to admit on tonight of all nights that I need Victoria and Emerson’s help, but I guess I do. You’ll have to go awaken them.”

  Every protective bone in Laura’s body recoiled at the thought of involving Mrs. Priestly’s son-in-law. She’d wi
tnessed Emerson Banner sneering behind Mrs. Priestly’s back more than once before tonight. And then there was the argument she’d overheard after dinner. Mrs. Priestly had been shaking when she finally allowed Laura to help her into bed.

  “I have an idea,” Laura hedged. “Before we disturb Mr. Banner or your daughter, let me go outside and make sure you didn’t see a falling tree limb or something else equally ordinary. It’s really stormy out there and the light is tricky.”

  “I know what I saw,” Mrs. Priestly insisted, but a second later, doubt crept into her voice as she added, “Would you really do that for me? I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “We have to look out for each other, don’t we, dear?”

  Laura smiled and gave the old woman an impromptu hug. “You bet we do. I’ll be careful, don’t worry.”

  “Just don’t take any chances. You see one little thing out of place and we’ll call the police. Okay?”

  “Of course,” Laura agreed, sincerely hoping it didn’t come to that. She grabbed a throw off the bed and tucked it around the old lady’s thin shoulders. “I’ll be right back,” she promised. “Don’t move.” She was rewarded with a shaky hand that gripped her arm for a moment.

  Laura detoured through her own room to slip on shoes and grab a flashlight, then hurried down the hall. The huge old house was very dark, but thankfully the steep stairs were lit by well-placed lights.

  In the kitchen she opened the door leading to the back garden. The outside lights refused to go on—something that had happened a couple of times before since Laura took this job. At least the rain had stopped.

  There hadn’t been a doubt in her mind when she made the offer to conduct a search that Mrs. Priestly, still upset from the evening’s altercations, had confused a dream with the images of the stormy night. But now a sense of urgency grew more acute as she hurried down the brick path toward the fountain. She shined the flashlight everywhere as she moved, illuminating the gloom ahead, anxiety raising the hair on her arms and tingling her spine.

  The fountain was a huge circular affair that towered over her head. Atop it, a trio of marble fish spouted water. Tonight, the wind caught the water and sprayed it into a fine mist.

  Using the flashlight, Laura investigated the fountain and the area around it. There was a broken paver near the base, but it could have been that way for years, as others were cracked and one was even missing. There was no sign of foul play, nor, miraculously considering the weather, any downed branches, though leaves and yard debris flurried across the ground.

  The rain started falling again as she looked up at the house, zeroing in on Mrs. Priestly’s dark bedroom window. Big drops splashed against her bare head and face. She moved her search farther afield and checked the gate that opened to the path running along the river, as she could hear it banging against the center post. Impossible to tell how long it had been open—the latch was rusty. Propping the flashlight between her chin and shoulder, she used both hands to tug it closed.

  A figure appeared on the path outside, looming in the dark. Hands reached out, grabbed the gate and shook it. Startled, Laura dropped her flashlight to the ground and backed into the yard.

  “Who’s there?” a woman’s voice demanded, and a second later a small flashlight flicked on. Its light hit Laura in the eyes, then lowered. “Laura? What are you doing out in this weather? Open the gate at once.”

  Laura bent to pick up her flashlight as she placed the voice—Victoria Banner, Mrs. Priestly’s middle-aged daughter. “I’ll hold it open for you,” she said as she fumbled with the lock.

  Victoria, swathed in a rain slicker with a hood, came through the gate like royalty. She paused as Laura secured the latch once again. When she spoke, her voice was sharp. “What’s going on?”

  Laura wasn’t about to tell the truth, not yet anyway. “I was looking for your mother’s shawl out in the garden when I heard the gate rattling.”

  “What would Mother’s shawl be doing out here in the middle of the night?”

  “I thought I might have left it outside earlier, before the weather turned. She may need it in the morning.”

  “We’re not paying you to be careless. Be sure to lock the kitchen door when you come inside.” And with that she was off, her heels clicking against the stones, the small light she held in front of her disappearing into the gloom.

  Victoria Banner wasn’t paying Laura, period; her mother was. Besides, what was she doing out this late? And why had her hands been shaking when she grabbed the gate? Laura shook her head and knew she would never have the answers.

  As she was getting wetter and colder by the minute, she forced herself to stop speculating and turned her attention back to the task at hand. She scanned the rain-soaked lawn, searching the grass for a sign someone had been dragged across it or had crawled away.

  “Laura?”

  This voice came from the back of the house. Now what? She turned her light onto an approaching figure who carried a light of his own, and with some relief she recognized Mrs. Priestly’s grandson, Robert Banner. She’d forgotten he’d come for dinner and stayed to visit with his parents, who also lived in Mrs. Priestly’s mansion, something he did one or two nights a month.

  “I saw a light out here when I went to close my window. Then I ran into Mother on the stairs. She said you were out here looking for a shawl. Need help?” He was dressed as she was, in pajamas and a robe the wind whipped around his legs. “You’re very wet,” he added. “Can’t this wait until morning?”

  “There actually isn’t a lost shawl,” she admitted. “I lied.” She pushed long strands of wet hair away from her eyes as she told him about what his grandmother thought she’d seen.

  Robert immediately began a search of his own. When he discovered, as she had, there was nothing to see, he took her arm. “The weather is getting worse. Let’s go inside.”

  They hurried back to the house. Robert stepped into the laundry room as Laura fought off a chill that didn’t have a whole lot to do with being cold. He tossed her a dry towel.

  “I have to tell your grandmother she was mistaken,” Laura said, as she dabbed at her face. “Since there were no fallen branches to explain what she saw, she’ll want to call the police.” She hoped her voice didn’t betray how uneasy that thought made her. And then she had a thought.

  “Remember a couple of months ago when I brought your grandmother to your restaurant for lunch? I took a wrong turn somewhere in the back hallway and ended up running into a guy outside your office. He introduced himself as your friend. His name was different. Taipan, that’s it. Detective Taipan. If we have to contact the authorities, maybe you could call your friend and ask him to investigate unofficially so your grandmother isn’t humiliated if she’s mistaken.”

  Robert was a nice-looking man creeping toward forty, with fair hair and light eyes, the kind of guy who would look young his whole life. But what warmed him to Laura’s heart was that he made the time to visit Mrs. Priestly on a regular basis, and that couldn’t be easy coupled with the demands of running a successful restaurant.

  “I have a better idea,” he said. “I don’t know how much of our family dynamics you’ve gathered since you’ve worked for Grandma…”

  “I try to mind my own business,” she said.

  “Yeah, well, the truth is my father and Grandma’s own lawyer are doing their best to prove she’s incompetent so they can take over her affairs.”

  Laura had suspected as much. She’d picked up on several innuendos. She suspected Mrs. Priestly had, too.

  “I know Grandma is well over ninety and failing in many ways, but she seems perfectly lucid to me,” Robert continued. “Everything kind of hit the fan tonight when she got a good look at her investment portfolio. She accused Dad of mishandling her accounts. She went so far as to threaten an audit.” He raked a hand through his wet hair and sighed. “If she insists she saw a murderer, Dad and that shyster Gibbons will use it to argue
her mind is slipping. And if they get power of attorney, they’ll call all the shots.”

  “But your mother and sister would never agree to that.”

  “Mom will do whatever Dad tells her to do. And Donna is great, but her husband has sunk all her assets in that string of auto-repair shops, and I hear things aren’t going well.”

  “Donna is over here all the time. She’s very sweet with your grandmother.”

  “Still, right now she has other things on her mind.” He took a deep breath and regarded Laura with anxious eyes. “I don’t think my grandmother is senile, do you?”

  She met his gaze. “No, I don’t.”

  “Good. You spend the most time with her, so if she was slipping—”

  “I haven’t noticed anything like that.”

  “Okay. Let’s go talk to her together. Maybe she saw a couple of kids having a fight. If she’s still sure she saw a murder, then we’ll call the authorities. How does that sound?”

  Laura nodded, relieved for his help. One way or another, Robert would take care of things now, which suited her fine. She wanted no one in an official capacity to look into the nonexistent past of Laura Green. She wasn’t ready for that yet. A few more weeks…

  They hurried upstairs, careful to make as little noise as possible.

  Thursday Afternoon

  CODY WESTIN had already decided this meeting with his detective in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, would be the last one. Two other times he’d come running from the family ranch in Wyoming when Smyth dug up leads. The first had been in March, soon after Cassie left him. That time had proven to be a false sighting. The next had been a couple of months ago, only they’d found the woman using Cassie’s identification and driving her car had actually stolen them. The theft hadn’t been reported, which left Cody wondering if Cassie was dead or alive. He knew Smyth had a new lead, but Cody wasn’t counting on a miracle, not anymore.

  “I have a name for you,” Smyth said. He was about Cody’s age, late thirties. While no one would ever look at Cody and peg him for anything but exactly what he was—a guy who spent a lot of time out in the weather riding horses, mending fences and herding cattle— Smyth had a street look that made him fit in just about anywhere. He was dressed as Cody was, in boots and jeans, but he sported a Giants baseball cap instead of a dusty brown Stetson.