by Lori Wilde
"Is something wrong?"
"I was going to try calling her again, but I forgot my cell phone."
Andrew’s face lit up. “Are you Fake Gilbert?”
Sam blinked. “What?”
Andrew pulled a cell phone out of his pocket that had a familiar pink case. “Ms. Delacroix was having trouble with her phone, so she left it here for me to fix. The name Fake Gilbert kept popping up on the screen whenever it rang. I thought he was a stalker because he must have called her twenty times.” His quizzical gaze moved from the phone to Sam. “Was that you?”
Sam took a deep breath. Not only had Gracie disappeared, but she’d obviously put his phone number on her contact list under the name Fake Gilbert. “Yes, that was me.”
“Okay.” He took a step back. “Well, she’s not here.”
“Thanks, Andrew. I got that already.” Sam knew the kid didn’t deserve his irritation. He was just doing his job. “Will you have her call me as soon as she comes back to the office?”
“Sure thing.” Andrew reached for a sticky note and wrote down the words: Call Fake Gilbert. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No, that’s all I needed. Good luck with your internship, Andrew.”
Andrew held out his hand. “Thank you, sir.”
Sam shook the boy’s hand, then took his leave. Sir? At thirty-three, Sam wasn’t a teenager anymore, but the kid made him feel like a senior citizen.
And then there was Gracie. She was obviously trying to ditch him. Not only was she out there somewhere alone, but she didn’t even have a way to contact him if she got into trouble.
Sam knew the odds of that happening were slim, but he didn’t want to take any chances. Not with Gracie. He just wished she didn’t have the power to distract him so much—like making him forget his cell phone.
Maybe Andrew was right, and girls were like that. Or maybe it was time for Sam to consult an expert.
Thirty minutes later, Sam arrived at Elk Creek Ranch. He’d stopped by Gracie’s house to pick up his cell phone on his way, hoping to see her there. But the house had been empty. And Gracie still hadn’t called him back.
“Fake Gilbert,” he muttered to himself as he climbed out of his pickup. He wondered if she’d ever let him forget that charade. Then he wondered if she’d forget about him once this case was over.
Shaking that unpleasant thought from his head, he walked into the barn. A bright-red pickup truck sat just outside the open barn doors with the rear tailgate down. That’s when he saw Hank seated on a straw bale behind one of the horse stalls. His big brother didn’t even look up as Sam approached him.
“Hey, Hank. I called your office and your assistant told me I could find you here.”
“Don’t move!” Hank growled, his gaze fixed on the straw bedding beneath his feet. “It’s got to be here somewhere.”
Sam glanced over at the open black leather satchel Hank used to carry his vet supplies. “Did you drop another syringe in the straw?”
“Nope,” Hank said, reaching down to carefully sift through the straw. “I dropped something... irreplaceable. And if I don’t find it, Grandma Hattie’s going to kill me.”
“Can I have your red pickup if she does?”
Hank glanced up at Sam, his hands still buried in the straw. “Very funny. Why don’t you help me look instead of just standing there like a fence post.”
“Well, in the first place, you told me not to move. And second, I have no idea what you’re looking for.”
Hank opened his mouth, then closed it again and resumed his search.
“You’re not going to tell me?” Sam asked in disbelief. “I came all the way out here to ask your advice about a woman. I figured you were the expert since you’ve dated so many—and even managed to nab one.”
“I haven’t nabbed her yet,” Hank said. “Not officially anyway.”
Sam stared at his big brother. “Officially? Are you going to marry that girl? I mean, woman?”
“Yeah, if I can find the engagement ring I just dropped it in the straw. Now quit jawing at me and help me look for it.”
Stunned, Sam just stared at him. Then he saw something glint in the straw, reflecting off the sunlight that streamed through the barn windows. “Hold on, I think I see something.” He moved toward it, then reached down to pick it up. “Is it an emerald and diamond ring?”
Hank jumped to his feet. “Hand it over!”
Sam took a step back, holding the ring just out of reach. “Are you sure you want me to? I remember a few years ago, after a crazy night at the Wildcat Tavern, you told us to lock you in the barn if you ever talked about gettin’ hitched.”
“That was a long time ago.” Hank lunged for the ring and snatched it from Sam’s grasp. “I was a lot dumber back then.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that.” Sam watched him carefully brush the straw and dust off the ring. “Where did you buy that, anyway? It looks kind of old.”
“This ring is the same one Grandpa Henry gave to Grandma Hattie when they got engaged over fifty years ago. She told me she’s been saving to hand down to her eldest grandchild.”
“And she only had to wait thirty-five years to do it,” Sam quipped. “Better late than never, I guess.”
Hank walked over to his vet satchel and pulled out a small velvet bag, then he carefully slipped the ring inside. “And she’ll have to wait a bit longer, since I want to have this ring cleaned and polished before I give it to Rachel. I was going to take it to a jewelry store, but Grandma Hattie recommended a place called Jolene’s Antique Emporium.”
Sam stared at him. “Well, that’s strange, because I’ve been spending time with Jolene’s niece.” He shook his head. “Something tells me Grandma Hattie might be more involved in this case than she let on.”
Hank zipped up the leather satchel and slung it over his shoulder. “All I know is she’s the reason Rachel and I found each other.”
Sam couldn’t let Hank leave yet. “When did you know Rachel was the one for you?”
Hank smiled. “I knew there was something special about her the first time we met, but it took me a while to realize she was different than any other woman I’d ever known.” He reached out to gently pat the horse closest to him. “In my defense, I had a concussion at the time.”
“What difference did that make?”
“I figure I probably would have realized it sooner if my head hadn’t been banged up.” Hank placed the satchel in the back of his pickup. “The truth is, Sam, when you meet the right woman, you just know it.”
Sam nodded, then modulated his voice to sound like Grandpa Henry. “When you know, you know.”
Hank laughed. “Yeah, he used to say that about the first time he met Grandma Hattie. I’d forgotten about that.” He moved toward the barn doors, then turned back to Sam. “Wait, did you need advice about something?”
“Nah, I’m good.” Sam adjusted his cowboy hat, then helped his brother close the barn doors. “Just don’t forget to invite me to the wedding.”
CHAPTER TEN
The closer Gracie drove to Parvey Road, the more she wondered if the address had been written down wrong. The neighborhood grew more dilapidated with each turn. A view of run-down and abandoned buildings, surrounded by trash, wasn't exactly the atmosphere her aunt would want for Jolene’s Antique Emporium.
It was almost dusk, making it difficult to read the addresses along the street. The area was more industrial than retail, but she’d read somewhere that the neighborhood was undergoing revitalization. Maybe the trash lining the gutters meant they were still in the demolition stage.
The paved road led to a dead end, where Gracie saw a warehouse made of gray steel siding with an address that matched the one she’d been given.
She pulled into the empty lot and parked near the door, keeping the engine running as she debated whether to go inside. There was no way she'd ever suggest Aunt Jolene move her shop to a place like this, no matter how desperate the situati
on.
Then she saw a shadow move behind the glass door of the warehouse. Startled, she shifted her car into reverse, ready to peel out of the parking lot. But the door opened and a man stepped outside.
It was Gilbert.
She cut the engine, then opened the car door, surprised to find her knees shaking. Even after ten years, Gilbert looked much the same as she remembered him.
He still had shaggy dark hair that hung too low on his brow, but his Coke-bottle bottom glasses had been replaced with contact lenses, and he’d added a few pounds to his skinny frame. Had he posed as the real estate agent and made the call to bring her here? Or was there someone else, besides Allison and Dorie, in on this scheme?
Despite her confusion, she didn't hesitate to enter the warehouse. She knew she had nothing to fear from Gilbert.
He held the door open for her, then followed her inside. Without saying a word, he enveloped her in a big bear hug. His clothing stank of stale sweat and she could feel the rough graze of his whiskers against her cheek.
"I'm so glad you came," Gilbert said.
"Why all the secrecy?" she asked, taking a step back for a better look at him. She would have recognized him anywhere, making her wonder once again how she could have ever believed Sam was Gilbert. “Are you the one that called my office?”
"Yeah," he replied. "I thought it might be safer to call there instead of your cell phone. But when I asked for you, the kid who answered the phone assumed I was a real estate agent for some reason, so I just gave him this address.”
That didn’t make much sense to Gracie, but Gilbert didn’t look well. “What’s going on?” She looked around the dank, empty building. There were water stains on the ceiling and insulation jutting from holes in the wall. “Are you alright?”
"It's a long story," he replied, steering her toward a small vinyl card table and two chairs, all scarred with wear and splashed with different colors of paint. "How much time do you have?"
"Time enough for you to tell me you had nothing to do with the identity theft—or that deputy's shooting."
"Cripes," Gilbert said, staring at her in amazement. "How much do you know?"
She told him everything—from Sam's appearance at the reunion to the break-in at her house to overhearing the conversation at the cabin between Allison and Dorie. The only thing she left out was her relationship with Sam and the fact that he was living with her now.
Gilbert kept shaking his head as she relayed her story, reinforcing her belief that he truly was innocent of all the charges Sam had laid at his feet.
"I can't believe this is happening to me." His face grew mottled, and panic shone in his brown eyes. "What the hell am I going to do now?"
"Let me help you," Gracie entreated. "We'll go to Sam, and you can tell him your story. Between the two of us, we can convince him that you're not to blame for any of it."
Gracie wished she could be as confident as she sounded. Sam hadn't listened to her yet. But she had to try. She couldn't leave Gilbert alone in a place like this.
"That's the problem, Gracie." Gilbert stood up and began to pace in front of her. "I am to blame."
Disappointment welled in her throat, but she still couldn't believe her best friend from high school would hurt anyone. He'd even refrained from killing spiders whenever they'd cleaned out his family’s farmhouse every spring, preferring to catch them in a glass and release them outside.
"Tell me what happened," she said softly, "from the beginning."
He took a deep breath. "It all started when I sent out those mass emails about my internet consignment store. You got one, didn't you?"
She nodded. "I even tried to buy some rare books you had on sale there, but someone outbid me."
"That was me," he admitted. "By that time, I'd figured out what was happening with the credit card thefts and I didn't want you involved."
"If you knew, why didn't you go to the police right away?"
"Because of Allison."
His voice softened when he said her name and Gracie recognized the same glazed look he'd had in his eyes back in high school whenever Allison Webb had walked by. What she couldn't figure out was how the woman could still have this effect on him after ten years.
Then she thought about Sam and knew a hundred years could pass and she'd still feel the same sizzle when he walked into the room, as well as the same emotional connection.
But Gracie hoped she'd never compromise her values because of him. Or worse, betray the people around her. Gilbert had done both.
"Look, I know you don't understand." Gilbert knelt in front of her chair. "But you've got to believe me. I never wanted anyone to be hurt."
She didn't know what to believe anymore. "What am I doing here?"
"I need you to do one favor for me," he entreated. "Then I'll never ask you for anything again."
Apprehension skittered up her spine. "What?"
"Bring the videotape to me tomorrow night. Same time. Same place."
She rose to her feet. "What does that videotape have to do with any of this? I've watched it over and over again. There's nothing on it but the same old movie we’ve seen a hundred times."
"It's better if you don't know." Gilbert used the table for leverage to pull himself off the floor. "Just bring me the tape, then this entire mess will be over."
"How?"
He hesitated. "I've got the information the police want, but I need to be the one to give it to them. I sent the tape to you for safekeeping while I was on the run. But I’m so tired. I haven’t seen anyone I know for years—not Allison, not you. Not even my parents."
"Let's go to the police now, and then you can see your family," Gracie suggested. "I'll drive and we can pick up the tape at my house on the way. You know I'll vouch for you."
He shook his head. "Not without Allison. She has to be there, too."
"Gilbert..."
"No," he interjected. "I mean it. I won't turn my back on her now."
Gracie rubbed her hands over her arms, chilled by the dank air and by Gilbert's blind devotion to a woman who didn't deserve him. "Where is Allison?"
"I can't tell you."
She blinked. Gilbert had always told her everything. "Why not?"
"Because I promised not to tell anyone. I'm sorry, Gracie, but I gave her my word."
"Then give me your word, too," she said, taking a deep breath. "If I bring you the tape, promise me that you'll go to the police right away."
"I promise," he said without hesitation.
She looked around the warehouse, hating the thought of leaving him here. "Do you need anything, Gilbert? Food? Some blankets?"
He shook his head. "I'm not staying here. Don't worry, I'll be fine." Then he glanced at his watch. "Time to say good night, Gracie."
Her throat tightened. He sounded so much like the old Gilbert and looked like him, too. But he'd changed and so had she. The man she'd built up in her mind, comparing him to every other man she'd ever met, had never really existed.
Gracie walked to the door, sensing that there was still something that Gilbert wasn't telling her. But she didn't want to linger in this creepy place any longer than necessary.
Especially when she only had twenty-four hours to decide whether to tell Sam that she'd found his prey.
#
Gracie arrived home that night to find the house dark and empty. She flipped on a light in the living room, surprised that Sam wasn't there waiting to rip into her for leaving without telling him.
A twinge of apprehension rippled through her. She walked down the hallway and opened the door to her guest room. The bed was neatly made and she didn't see his suitcase anywhere.
Sam had left her.
No goodbye speech, not even a note. Disappointment thickened in her throat and she felt a ridiculous urge to cry. He'd driven her crazy these past few days, but now that he was gone there was an emptiness inside of Gracie that threatened to overwhelm her.
The His Girl Friday videotape still s
at on top of the television cabinet. He hadn't taken it with him. Maybe he'd already gotten a tip on where to find Gilbert. He might have even followed her to the warehouse.
But before she could make sense of any of it, she heard music emanating from the backyard.
After walking into the kitchen, she pulled back the curtain on the window above the sink. In the darkness, she could just make out a tent and one of those outdoor patio heaters shaped like a round chimney. Puzzled, she walked out the back door, the squeaking hinges announcing her arrival.
Sam stood at the grill, marinating two steaks with a brush. The aroma of sizzling meat made her mouth water.
"What are you doing out here?" she asked him.
"Bounty hunting keeps you on the road, so I do a lot of camping instead for paying for hotel rooms.” He flipped over one of the steaks. "I thought I might as well take advantage of this beautiful evening to camp out here.”
"I think it’s supposed to storm.” She looked at the tent, then the stone chimney. It had a small fire burning in it, just enough to cast a romantic glow over the lawn. “You’re camping in my backyard?"
He fixed his gaze on the grill. "I figured we'd both have a little more room this way. I was going a little stir-crazy in the house."
His face was flushed, though she couldn't tell if it was from the heat of the grill or something else.
"Besides," he continued, "I like looking at the stars out here."
She looked up at the sky, impressed with the glittering canopy above her. Thick clouds were rolling in from the west and would soon cover the stars. Aunt Jolene always used to take her camping just outside Hay Springs, and she’d loved it. But now, Gracie was so busy with her business that she didn’t have a lot of spare time to spend outdoors. "It is beautiful, isn't it?"
"Breathtaking," he agreed. But Sam wasn't looking at the sky—he was looking straight at her.
Relief that he hadn't left her mingled with guilt that she wasn't telling him about finding Gilbert or about her plan to meet him tomorrow night. But something told her now wasn't the time.
"Are you hungry?" he asked, taking the steaks off the grill and placing them on a platter.