by Rita Herron
“The important thing is that they found Lewis’s body but not my son’s. So Benji might be alive.”
Ashlynn gave her a sympathetic look. “Did they find any evidence that he survived?”
“No,” Sage admitted. “But they also didn’t find any proof that he didn’t.”
“Fair enough.”
“Think about it,” Sage said. “The shooter may have wanted to kill Ron. But maybe he didn’t realize Ron had Benji with him. When he killed Ron and discovered Benji, he may have taken my son.”
A tense heartbeat passed between them, fraught with questions.
“That’s possible,” Ashlynn said. “But it’s also possible that he didn’t.”
Sage’s stomach revolted. “You mean that he got rid of Benji.”
“I’m sorry,” Ashlynn said. “I don’t want to believe that, but if he murdered Lewis, he might not have wanted any witnesses left behind.”
Sage desperately clung to hope that Ron’s killer hadn’t been that inhumane. Killing a grown man for revenge, if that was the case, was a far cry from killing an innocent child.
Ashlynn traced a finger along the rim of her coffee cup. “I hate to suggest this, but did the police search the area for a grave, in case the killer buried your son?”
Sage’s throat closed. She clutched her purse, ready to leave. “I didn’t call you so you’d convince me that Benji is dead. I hoped you’d run another story, this time focus on the fact that Lewis’s body was found but that Benji might still be out there.”
She pulled a picture of her son from her shoulder bag. “Please print his picture and remind people that he’s still missing. That I’m still looking for him.” Desperation tinged her voice. “Maybe someone’s seen him and will call in.”
Ashlynn reached over and squeezed her hand. “Of course I can do that, Sage. I’ll do whatever I can to help you get closure.”
Sage heard the doubt in the reporter’s voice. She didn’t think Benji would be found.
But Sage didn’t care what she thought. “I know you have your doubts about him being alive, but I’m his mother.” Sage stroked the locket where it lay against her heart. “I can’t give up until I know for sure.”
Ashlynn nodded and took the picture. “Did Benji have any defining characteristics? A birthmark, scar or mole? Anything that might stand out?”
“As a matter of fact, he does,” Sage said. “He was born with an extra piece of cartilage in his right ear. It’s not very noticeable, but if you look closely, it almost looks like he has two eardrums.”
“Do you have a photo where it’s visible?”
Sage had actually avoided photographing it. But it was obvious in his first baby picture. She removed it from her wallet and showed it to Ashlynn.
“This might help,” the reporter told her. “I’ll enhance it for the news story. And I’ll run the story today.” Ashlynn finished her coffee. “As a matter of fact, I have a friend who works for the local TV station. I’ll give her a heads-up and have her add it to their broadcast. The more people looking for Benji, the better.”
Sage thanked her, although Ashlynn’s comment about searching for a grave troubled her.
As much as she didn’t want to face that possibility, she’d have to ask Dugan about it.
* * *
DUGAN ENTERED THE ADDRESS for Maude Handleman into the note section on his phone, then drove toward Lloyd Riley’s farm, a few miles outside town.
He’d heard about the tough times some of the landowners had fallen upon in the past few years. Weather affected farming and crops, the organic craze had caused some to rethink their methods and make costly changes, and the beef industry had suffered.
Farmers and ranchers had to be progressive and competitive. He noted the broken fencing along Riley’s property, the parched pastures and the lack of crops in the fields.
He drove down the mile drive to the farmhouse, which was run-down, the porch rotting, the paint peeling. A tractor was abandoned in the field, the stables were empty and a battered black pickup truck was parked sideways by the house.
It certainly appeared as if Riley might have been in trouble.
Dugan parked and walked up the porch steps, then knocked. He waited a few minutes, then knocked again, and the sound of man’s voice boomed, “Coming!”
Footsteps shuffled, then the door opened and a tall, rangy cowboy pushed the screen door open.
“Lloyd Riley?”
The man tipped his hat back on his head. “You’re that Indian who found the hikers?”
“I was looking for them, but another rescue worker actually found them,” Dugan said. He offered his hand and Riley shook it.
“Name’s Dugan Graystone.”
“What are you doing out here?” Riley asked.
Dugan chose his words carefully. Tough cowboys were wary of admitting they had money problems. “I spoke with George Bates at the bank about that development Ron Lewis had planned around Cobra Creek.”
Riley stiffened. “What about it?”
“Bates said he asked him to invest before he died. He also mentioned that he talked to some of the locals about investing, as well.”
“So?” Riley folded his arms. “He held meetings with the town council and talked to most everyone in town about it. Didn’t he approach you?”
Dugan shook his head. “No, he probably meant to, but he didn’t get around to me before he died.”
Riley pulled at his chin. “Yeah, too bad about that.”
The man sounded less than sincere. And Bates had said that he thought Riley made a deal with Lewis. “I heard Lewis offered to buy up some of the property in the area and made offers to landowners. Did he want to buy your farm?”
Riley’s eyes flickered with anger. “He offered, but I told him no. This land belonged to my daddy and his daddy. I’ll be damned if I was going to let him turn it into some kind of shopping mall or dude ranch.”
“So you refused his offer?”
“Yeah. Damn glad I did. Heard he cheated a couple of the old-timers.”
“How so?”
“Offered them a loan to get them out of trouble, supposedly through the backer of this rich development. But fine print told a different story.”
“What was in the fine print?”
“I don’t know the details, but when it came time to pay up and the guys couldn’t make the payments, he foreclosed and stole the property right out from under them.”
Riley reached for the door, as if he realized he’d said too much. “Why’d you say you wanted to know about all this?”
“Just curious,” Dugan said.
Riley shot him a look of disbelief, so he decided to offer a bone of information.
“Lewis was a con artist,” Dugan said. “The day of his so-called accident, I suspect he was running away with the town’s money.”
Riley made a sound of disgust. “Sounds like it.”
“Who was it he swindled?”
“Don’t matter now. Lewis is dead.”
“Why do you think that?”
“I figured the deal was void when he died. Haven’t seen anyone else from that development come around.”
That was true. But if they’d signed legal papers, the deal would still be in effect. Unless the paperwork hadn’t been completed or whoever killed Lewis had him tear up the papers before Lewis died. “Can you give me a name or two so I can follow up?”
“Listen,” Riley said. “These are proud men, Graystone. You know about being proud?”
His comment sounded like a challenge, a reminder that Riley knew where Dugan had come from and that he should be grateful he’d gotten as far as he had. “Yes, I do.”
“Then, they don’t want anyone to know they got gypped. Maybe that accident was a blessing.”
“I guess it was for some people,” Dugan said. “But, Riley, the body I found earlier was Ron Lewis’s. He didn’t die in an accident.”
Riley’s sharp angular face went stone-cold. “
He didn’t?”
“No, he was murdered.” Dugan paused a second to let that statement sink in. “And odds are that someone Lewis cheated killed him.” Anger hardened Riley’s eyes as he realized the implication of Dugan’s questions. “What about Ken Canter? Was he one of those Lewis cheated?”
“Canter didn’t care about the money. He was just happy to unload his place. He wanted to move near his daughter and took off as soon as he signed with Lewis.” Riley made a low sound in his throat. “We’re done here.”
Riley reached for the door to slam it, but Dugan caught it with the toe of his boot. “I know you want to protect your buddies, but Sage Freeport’s three-year-old son disappeared the day Lewis was murdered.” He hissed a breath. “Lewis was a con artist, there’s no doubt about that. And I’m not particularly interested in catching the person who killed him, except—” he emphasized the last word “—except that person may know where Benji is. And if he’s alive, Sage Freeport deserves to have her little boy back.”
Chapter Six
Sage had slept, curled up with Benji’s blanket the night before. Just the scent of him lingering on it gave her comfort.
But Ashlynn’s comment about a grave haunted her.
After she arrived back at the B and B, she called Dugan. She explained about her visit with Ashlynn and her suggestion that the sheriff should have looked for a grave where the killer might have buried her son.
“According to the report my friend got for me, the sheriff arrived at the scene shortly after the explosion. I don’t think the killer would have had time to dig a hole and bury Benji, but if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll check it out.”
His words soothed her worries, but she couldn’t leave any questions unanswered. “Thank you, Dugan. It would make me feel better.”
“All right. I’ll head over there now.”
“I’ll meet you at the crash site.”
She hung up, poured a thermos of coffee to take with her, yanked her unruly hair into a ponytail, then rushed outside to her van.
By the time she arrived, Dugan was waiting. “You didn’t have to come, Sage. I could handle this.”
“This search should have been done a long time ago.”
“Actually, the police report said that searchers did comb the area for Benji after the crash.”
She studied Dugan. “Were you part of that team?”
He shook his head, the overly long strands of his dark hair brushing his collar. “I was out of town, working another case.”
“I understand it’s a long shot, and I hope there isn’t a grave,” Sage said, “but ever since that reporter suggested it, I can’t get the idea out of my head.”
“All right.” He squeezed her hand, sending a tingle of warmth through her.
She followed him to the spot where the car had crashed and burned. He pulled a flashlight from his pocket and began scanning the ground near the site, looking for anything the police might have missed.
Sage followed behind him, the images of the fire taunting her. She’d imagined them finding Benji’s burned body so many times that she felt sick inside.
But they hadn’t found him, and that fact gave her the will to keep going.
The next two hours, she and Dugan walked the scene, searching shrubs and bushes, behind rocks, the woods by the creek and along the river and creek bank.
Finally, Dugan turned to her. “He’s not here, Sage. If he was, we would have found something by now.”
Relief surged through her. “What now?”
“Maybe the news story will trigger someone to call in.”
She nodded, and they walked back to their vehicles. “I have a couple of leads to check out,” Dugan said. “I found some information on the fake IDs and discovered that at least one of Lewis’s aliases was married. I’m driving to Laredo to see if I can talk to the woman.”
Sage’s stomach lurched. So Ron had not only lied to her but proposed to her when he’d already had a wife.
* * *
DUGAN WAS RELIEVED when he didn’t discover a grave. Knowing there had been a search team after the crash had suggested the area was clean, but Gandt had led the team and Dugan didn’t trust him.
The sheriff had obviously taken the accident at face value and hadn’t had forensics study the car, or he might have found a bullet hole and realized the accident wasn’t an accident at all. Unless Lewis was shot after he left the burning vehicle...
“Let me go with you to see the woman,” Sage said.
Dugan frowned. “If she’s covering for her husband, she might not want to talk to us.”
“You think she knew what he was doing? That he had other women?”
Dugan shrugged. “Who knows? If he’s run the same scam in other cities, she might be his accomplice. Or...she could have been a victim like you were.”
“Just a dumb target he used.”
“You aren’t dumb, Sage,” Dugan said. “Judging from the number of aliases this man had, he was a professional, meaning he’s fooled a lot of people.”
“He also could have made a lot of enemies.”
“That, too.” More than one person definitely had motive to want him dead.
Sage’s keys jangled in her hand. “Follow me back to the inn and then let me ride with you. If she was a victim, then she might talk to me more easily than you.”
Dugan couldn’t argue with that. “All right.”
Ten minutes later, she parked and joined him in his SUV, and he drove toward Laredo. “How did you find out about her?” Sage asked.
“My buddy with the rangers plugged the aliases into the police databases. Lewis had a rap sheet for fraud, money laundering and embezzlement.”
“He did time?”
“No. In each instance, a woman bailed him out. Then he disappeared under a new name.”
“It sounds like a pattern.”
“Yes, it does,” Dugan agreed.
Sage leaned her head against her hand. “I still can’t believe I was so gullible.”
“Let it go, Sage,” Dugan said gently.
“How can I? If I hadn’t allowed Ron—or whatever his name was—into our lives, Benji wouldn’t be gone.” Her breath rattled out. “What kind of mother am I?”
Dugan’s chest tightened, and he automatically reached for her hand and squeezed it. “You were—are—a wonderful mother. You loved your son and raised him on your own. And my guess is that you never once considered doing anything without thinking of him first.”
Sage sighed. “But it wasn’t enough. I let Ron get close to us, and he took Benji from me....”
Dugan reminded himself not to let emotions affect him, but he couldn’t listen to her berate herself. “I promise you we’ll find him, Sage.”
Of course, he couldn’t promise that Benji would be alive.
Tears glittered in Sage’s eyes, but she averted her gaze and turned to stare out the window.
Dugan hated to see her suffering. Still, he gripped the steering wheel and focused on the road, anything to keep himself from pulling over and dragging her up against him to comfort her.
* * *
SAGE LATCHED ON to Dugan’s strong, confident voice and his promise. He seemed to be the kind of man who kept his word.
But she’d been wrong about men before. Her track record proved that. First Benji’s father and then Ron.
No, she was obviously a terrible judge of character.
But this was different. Dugan was known for being honest and fair and good at what he did. Taking on her case was nothing personal, just a job to him.
She studied the signs and business fronts as they neared Laredo. Dugan veered onto a side street before they entered town and wound through a small modest neighborhood. He checked the GPS and turned right at a corner, then followed the road until it came to a dead end.
A small, wood house with green shutters faced the street. Weeds choked the yard, and a rusted sedan sat in the drive.
“This woman’s name is Maud
e Handleman,” Dugan said as they walked up to the front door. He knocked, and she studied the neighboring houses while they waited. If Ron had made money conning people, what had he done with it? He certainly hadn’t spent it on this property.
Dugan knocked again, and footsteps pounded, then the sound of a latch turning. The door opened, revealing a short woman with muddy brown hair pulled back by a scarf.
“Mrs. Handleman?” Dugan said.
Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized them through the screen. “If you’re selling something, I don’t want it.”
“We aren’t selling anything,” Dugan said. “Please let us come in and we’ll explain.”
“Explain what?”
Sage offered her a smile. “Please, Maude. It’s important. It’s about your husband.”
The woman’s face paled, but she opened the door and let them in. “What has he done now?”
Sage followed Maude inside, with Dugan close behind her. The woman led them into a small den. Sage glanced around in search of family pictures, her pulse hammering when she spotted a photograph of Maude and the man she called Ron Lewis, sitting on the side table.
“All right,” Maude said impatiently. “What’s this about?”
Dugan glanced at her, and Sage began, “Your husband, what was his name?”
“Seth,” Maude said. “Except I haven’t seen him since I bailed his butt out of jail nearly four years ago.”
“Mrs. Handleman, did you know that Seth has other names that he goes by?”
Surprise flickered in the woman’s eyes. “Other names?”
“Yes.” Dugan explained about finding the various drivers’ licenses. “He has been arrested under at least three assumed names. That’s how we found you.”
She studied them for a minute. “Who are you—the police come to take him back to jail?”
Sage inhaled a deep breath. “Actually, no. Seth came to Cobra Creek where I live, but he told me and everyone in the town that his name was Ron Lewis.”
Maude twisted a piece of hair around one finger.
“He posed as a real estate developer who had big plans for Cobra Creek,” Sage continued.
“He did do some real estate work,” Maude said.
“He was arrested for fraud and embezzlement,” Dugan cut in. “And I believe he was trying to swindle landowners around Cobra Creek.”