Colton On The Run (The Coltons 0f Roaring Springs Book 9)

by Anna J. Stewart

  “Well, she’s not my Lacey,” Leo joked.

  “I loved that book. I remember sitting on the window bench in my bedroom glued to the pages. All the details about the pioneers and... What?” She broke off at the odd expression on Leo’s face.

  “You remember.” His eyes flickered as his lips twitched. “That’s the first time you said anything about your past.”

  She blinked. Again. A third time. “You’re right. I can see that space, that room, so vividly. Blues and silvers and cream-colored fabric draping the windows.” She walked over to the grimy pane of glass and touched a fingertip against it.

  “What else do you remember?”

  She hadn’t heard him approach, shouldn’t have been surprised to find he’d drawn near, but she shivered nonetheless. “Snow. So much snow I could barely see out my window. I looked up one minute and it had nearly obscured the entire pane.” Elegance. Order and organization. And loneliness. She remembered feeling very, very lonely. She rubbed her fingers against her chest, just above her heart. She never felt lonely around Leo. Even when he was out on the land. “She’ll need an office.”

  “Who will?” Leo touched her shoulder.

  “Lacey. She’ll need an office where she can write. How many bedrooms are there?”

  “Three,” Leo told her. “Jane, let’s explore this some more. Let’s see what else we can get you to remember.”

  “Not now.”

  “Why not? Something’s been jarred loose. It’s the perfect time—”

  “No, it’s not.” Jane cut him off. “If I remember more, I’ll tell you, but for now, I’m fine with this. I’m not in any rush.” She didn’t want to remember more. Not yet. She wanted to take baby steps, not giant leaps. She wanted to stay here, for as long as possible. Not because of how safe she felt here. But because the idea of leaving Leo scared her more than whatever secrets her past held. “Please, let’s just take this slow. I don’t want to force things.”

  “The world won’t stop just because you want it to, Jane.”

  “I know. But I can slow it down.” She did look at him now. She had to, otherwise he’d never see the determination she made sure shone in her eyes.

  “Okay.” He sighed. “So this is the space, huh?”

  “This is the space. Which means now we need to get down to business and discuss the budget.”

  “And also who we’re going to hire to do the work.”

  “Hire?” Jane shook her head and patted him on the arm as she passed. “We don’t have to hire anyone. I’m going to do it myself.”

  * * *

  “You’re doing it again.” Prescott Reynolds bent down to peer at Phoebe Colton’s reflection in the dressing table mirror. His hands rested on her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze of encouragement. Comfort. Understanding.

  “Doing what?” Phoebe feigned ignorance as she flicked a finger against an errant hair band.

  “Worrying. Everyone who can be is looking for Skye. They’re going to find her. You have to believe that.”

  “I do.” But would they find her in time? Phoebe pressed her fingers against the ache in her chest. The ache that had begun when Skye had taken off out of the blue after being embarrassed, humiliated and hurt over learning she’d been dumped by her longtime boyfriend via social media. It had been almost two months since she’d heard from her sister. Her hope had reignited briefly when the police located Skye’s car in an abandoned salvage yard fifty miles south of town. The only reason they’d found it was because some kid had tried to pawn Skye’s laptop and phone, which Trey Colton, the sheriff, had put a trace on. The kid had panicked and spilled everything.

  The car had been totaled, with severe damage to the back bumper and front right side. The driver’s-side window had been busted, the airbags deployed. Two types of blood had been found on the driver’s seat: Skye’s and one other, so far unidentified. And one of her shoes, a lipstick-red stiletto, had been found under her seat.

  Skye’s luggage and all her belongings, save for the laptop and cell phone, were still in the trunk. But that’s where the trail, and Phoebe’s hope, ended. No prints had been found on the car, including Skye’s, which meant whoever was responsible for her twin’s disappearance knew how not to leave evidence behind. As if disabling the GPS hadn’t been the first indication. The entire thing made Phoebe sick to her stomach.

  How many times had she read Skye’s last text, the one that said she needed time alone, time to regroup and think? That her twin had utterly and completely vanished from every aspect of her life—how many hours had Phoebe spent scouring social media for any sign of her sister?—was simply inexplicable. Even if she was disillusioned with the rest of the world, Skye never would have cut herself off from Phoebe. Unless...

  Phoebe took a shuddering breath. Skye wasn’t dead. The idea wouldn’t even solidify in her mind. Call it a twin thing, call it a psychic connection or call it having spent every single day with her identical sister since the moment they were conceived. She’d know if Skye had left her behind. And right now, that was the only thing keeping Phoebe sane. “I dreamed about her again last night.”

  “I know.” Preston took hold of her hand and led her over to the small settee by the window and pulled her down beside him. “You were talking in your sleep.”

  Phoebe curled into him, overwhelmed by love for this man who had taken not only her on, but pretty much the entire Colton family when the two of them had gotten...involved. Phoebe almost smiled. Funny way to explain whatever had happened between her and Prescott. Somehow she, stuck-in-the-corner Phoebe Colton, had landed in the spotlight with one of the most eligible bachelors in Hollywood. All, when she stopped to think on it, because of Skye.

  “I keep seeing horses.” Phoebe toyed with a button on his crisp white shirt. “Lots of horses. And this beautiful dog. It’s so strange. I can’t explain it.”

  “You don’t have to,” Prescott told her. “But what you do have to do is focus on the moment. We need to get to the hospital before visiting hours are over and meet the newest Colton.”

  “Mmm.” Phoebe managed a smile now. “I’m betting Molly and Max’s little girl is simply gorgeous.” A pang of envy struck just below the ache. “It’s bittersweet, isn’t it, that they named her Sabrina?” The body of Molly’s sister, Sabrina Gilford, had been discovered after the avalanche, a suspected victim of the Avalanche Killer. Phoebe and Molly had talked about Molly’s grief over her child never being able to know her aunt. But being her namesake should help heal the wounds of loss.

  “It’s a lovely tribute,” Prescott agreed. “A way to bring a bit of light to the darkness.”

  “I suppose. This Sabrina certainly won’t be lacking for love or attention. She’ll be getting boatloads of both.” Beginning with the huge teddy bear Phoebe had ordered to be delivered to the house when the new family arrived home.

  “Maybe we can stop and talk to Daria? See if there’s been any progress?”

  “We can do that.” Preston sank his hands into her long hair to rub her neck. “I don’t want you giving up hope. Your sister will come back.”

  He didn’t promise. He wouldn’t, Phoebe understood as she squeezed her eyes shut against the pain. Preston would never promise her something he couldn’t deliver. Which meant he knew what she did.

  With every day that passed, it was becoming less and less likely she’d ever see her twin again.

  * * *

  “Come on! Hurry up! I can’t go without you!”

  “I’m coming!” Jane’s response was automatic. Just as automatic as her following the long-haired, redheaded girl running along the path in front of her.

  “Careful, girls. Presentation, remember.” The stern warning triggered a bout of eye rolling that gave Jane a headache. “Those are new shoes. No scuff marks, please.”

  Jane looked down at the shiny black patent leather
Mary Janes. For a moment she considered scuffing them on purpose, just because. Presentation was everything to her mother, but presentation came with a cost. It took a lot of the fun out of life. Pretty is as pretty does, her grandmother used to say. What did that saying even mean? Why couldn’t they just play and have fun without anyone telling them to stop?

  “Where are we going?” Jane called as the girl disappeared around the bend. The paved road gave way to gravel, which gave way to dirt. Rocky soil. Soil that hurt her feet as she ran after her. Night snapped on, plunging her into darkness. But there, in the distance, bright red hair. A beacon. A guide.

  But she stopped running. It hurt to breathe now. It hurt to think. The light in the distance began to spin. Not red anymore but blue. Then white. Then red. Then... She stopped.

  Her child self had been transformed into the woman she was now. No. Not the Jane she was now. The Jane she’d been that day she’d woken up in the barn. The white silk and linen clothes. The bare feet. The bruises on her arms, her wrists. She kicked out a foot. Her ankle.

  “Come on, already!” the voice in the darkness called.

  Jane shook her head. No. No, she wasn’t going any farther. She was going home. She was going to the ranch. She was going to find Leo and... She turned.

  And slammed into a solid, male body.

  “Leo.” She sighed, but the relief snapped away as clawed hands locked around her arms and squeezed. She opened her mouth to scream, but held back, tilted her chin up to see what man, what monster had caught her. But he had no face. He was only a shadow. A blue-uniformed shadow...with a badge that blinded her as it glinted against the darkness.

  And a name tag on his shirt. She wrenched free, racing past him and running back down the road. Breathing ragged, she looked over her shoulder and saw he’d dropped to the ground and, on all fours, was running after her, as if an animal racing after escaped prey.

  “Run, Skye! Run!” the voice from the darkness yelled.

  This time, she did as she was told.

  She ran.

  Jane shot up in the chair, a scream lodged in her throat, Ollie’s head in her lap.

  She drank in large gulps of air, scrambling to her feet as she plucked a sticky note off her cheek and tried to shake off the remnants of the nightmare. Ollie whined, a familiar sound that brought her far more comfort than she liked to admit.

  “Boy, you must be getting as tired of this as I am.” She crouched, brought the animal in for a hug, then pushed to her feet and returned to the desk. The cold sweat on her face had dried and she shivered, moving her shaking hand from one pile of paperwork to another—her task for the day while she and Leo waited for the last few supplies she’d asked him to order so they could put the finishing touches on Gwen’s new home.

  Routine had descended with far more ease than she would have expected. She found herself rising early with Leo, unable to sleep without him beside her. They’d eat breakfast together, and he’d drive her and whatever tools and supplies she needed to the house before he headed out to tend the herd.

  Thanks to some old home-care manuals she’d found in his grandfather’s office, she’d learned how to use a floor sander so she could refinish the wood floors, a power sander to refinish the cabinets in the kitchen and bedrooms. Whatever she couldn’t do on her own, she made a list and she and Leo tackled the jobs together.

  By the time September came along and the temperature began to dip into fall, she was looking for another project. Another distraction. Another... Oh, why didn’t she just call it what it was: a stalling tactic.

  Today she’d sent him into town to the nursery to hunt down some suitable landscaping flowers and shrubs, not only for Gwen’s front yard, but also for another idea that had been percolating for a while. In the meantime, she could help tackle some of those items on Leo’s list—the list he’d been ignoring for, well, as long as she knew him.

  The man was nothing if not determined. Too bad he was determined to restrict their sleeping arrangements to just that: sleeping. But that didn’t mean boundaries weren’t tested. And pushed. And strained to the breaking point. Who knew morning wake-up kisses could leave her so...wanting?

  Excitement bubbled inside her. Trapper leaving—though she missed the old coot—had definitely opened some doors she didn’t think she and Leo would be walking through, and for that, she needed to remember to thank him when he turned up again. But first, she needed to get this office in shape.

  More than once Leo had lamented the fact he hadn’t had a chance to go through his grandfather’s paperwork or had time to even update the computer, which had sat dormant since last year. Not that it would do much good, given the unreliable internet connection. There hadn’t been any real need for the machine other than to make note of expenditures and income, and given the season, there wasn’t much of the latter. Besides, she’d seen him write in figures in the record-keeping journal he kept in one of the kitchen drawers.

  It took a few hours, but she organized all the stuff piled on and around the desk into neat stacks, then labeled them with sticky notes until she decided what to do with them. That left mementos, books and the computer to deal with. The knickknacks, including more photos of Essie and Leo and Leo’s father, she put in a box and set to the side. The computer? She planted her hands on her hips and sighed. No router. No external lines. It was time to go Stone Age. She circled and bent down to examine the old tower unit, tugging on cords and plugs to see what was what. A phone line was twisted and piled on top.

  She uncoiled it and held it in her hands. “I wonder...” She bit her lip and followed a matching cord from the desk phone. She wasn’t exactly tech-minded. That she knew of. “It’s worth a shot.” She unplugged everything and started over, making the final connection to the ancient internal modem on the back of the tower unit.

  When she sat down and turned on the computer, the screen slowly blinked to life. A few minutes and a few settings clicks later, she hovered the mouse around the “connect to internet” icon and...

  The beeping and screeching had her covering her ears. Good heavens, how had people dealt with this constantly back in the day? “I will never complain about slow internet or Wi-Fi again.” She frowned, the idea of doing such a thing both familiar and foreign.

  The screen bleeped and burped, flickered a few times, then settled on a home page for email.

  “Oh, here we go. Internet, I am back.” She froze, fingers hovering over the keyboard. What did that mean? An odd thrill had shot through her at the mere thought of clicking on to social media, not that it would be easy with such outdated technology. But that thrill was quickly doused by her determination to get her life—this life—on the track she wanted.

  Leo wanted to know who she was. She had a name. A place to start. An answer was close by.

  Now all she needed was proof.

  * * *

  His truck loaded with enough flowers, potted shrubs and even a couple of miniature trees to give a pharmaceutical company allergies, Leo found himself pausing in downtown Roaring Springs before climbing into the cab. He was going to miss Jane. Not just the routine and the contentment he found sharing his days with her, but how much he looked forward to seeing her. But their borrowed time was ticking away.

  Whether she wanted it to or not.

  He looked over his shoulder toward the police station, his stomach knotting in that way it had when he knew he was considering something he shouldn’t.

  One thing he and Jane hadn’t discussed was what he’d discovered online about Levi McEwan, owner of the burnt ID they’d found at the abandoned Preston property. It hadn’t taken much to learn that McEwan was dead and that his body had been found just on the outskirts of town near a gas station. He’d made occasional stops at the library to catch up with the local paper. What had taken effort was not sharing what he learned with Jane. He’d planned to keep the information to himself. H
e’d prefer she focus on recovering her own memories, not focusing on whatever distraction she could cling to next.

  His next stop had been at the county clerk’s office, which resulted in him having to fill out a form to request information on who had inherited Preston’s property. As the office was currently understaffed, the request was filed along with hundreds of other documents. The anticipated response time was two to four weeks. Which put him right back where he’d started.

  Frustrated, Leo continued to stare at the glass doors, debating whether McEwan was the way for him to glean any information about Jane... No. Not Jane. Skye. Not that she didn’t give him the stink eye anytime he tried the other name on for size.

  It would be so easy to step inside and ask to talk to Sheriff Trey Colton. Now that they were fairly sure Jane was connected to the Colton family, Leo was discovering family members everywhere. Including the police department.

  Leo frowned. Was that why she was so afraid of the police? Was Trey or someone else in the family involved with her abduction? Was he the reason... No. He shook his head, caught a glimpse of Miss D’s diner in his rear mirror. Miss D. Now there was someone who might have some information for him. He’d only promised Jane not to talk to the police. But with small towns, it was more likely those in the know were those on the periphery. Now that Miss D had been back a bit, he’d bet she’d had enough time to catch up with all the Roaring Springs goings-on.

  He entered the diner through the front door this time, surprised to see the crowd thinner than expected. The hustle and bustle of a few days ago had slowed to a trickle, meaning Miss D herself was manning the counter. Today’s apron was a bright pink, almost as bright as the off-center bow in her silver-gray hair.

  “Heavens, Leo. You’re going to give an old woman a heart attack. Twice in one week.” Miss D was already reaching for a mug to pour him some coffee. “Where’s your Jane?”

  Leo sighed. It was as if she and Trapper had worked out a comedy routine. “She’s back at the ranch. Thought maybe I’d pick up another pie as a surprise.”