by Ciara Shayee
Now he knew.
A barrage of words erupted from between the visitor’s tightly-pursed lips. “I’ve heard and seen things…you have weird calls all the time and I saw you go into the barn the other night.” He turned his piercing grey-blue eyes to Newley’s pensive expression. They were wary and accusing and hopeful all at once as he stared Newley down. “It was one a.m.. What were you doing out there?”
Newley weighed up his options. There was only so much he could say without breaching his orders, but looking at the desperation on this guy’s face…he knew half-assed answers just weren’t going to cut it.
“Would you believe me if I said it was an emergency call to a family member?” he chuckled ruefully.
“No,” the other man scoffed, scowling. He frowned and cocked his head. “You’re not who you say you are, are you?”
Newley sighed and looked upwards at the wooden ceiling for a moment before deciding, to hell with it, and preparing himself for a tongue-lashing when he got home. “No, I’m not. But that’s not exactly public knowledge, and I’d prefer it to stay that way.”
“Okay.” He gulped, still staring at Newley with apprehension written all over his features. “You’ve gotta help the girls. Indie, Grace, and Marley…they’re…well, shit. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Watching with narrowed eyes, Newley sucked in a breath and waited as the other man reached up to tug at his riotous blond hair. This moment was pivotal; Newley was sure of it.
“They’re not his daughters. And Marley, she’s not their…I don’t know who he is, but he isn’t their dad. No way.” Words spilled from his lips without any sort of order or rhyme.
Newley’s stomach lurched and his brain flew into action, because this man? He was the break in the case they’d been waiting for.
He might not have details and he might be too emotionally invested to be any real help, but somehow, Ryan McCabe knew.
Back in the moonlit meadow, Newley and Jameson discussed their options. There were all-too-few, with the shaky sources they’d been relying on thus far. They were told this mission would be a simple one—just to get some more information to take back to their superiors. They were supposed to get in, gather evidence, then get out. Simple and easy.
It hadn’t been until a few weeks ago that Newley realised there was a lot more to this ranch and its occupants than he, or any of his colleagues, previously thought. His gaze moved to the woman before him. Her eyes were filled with pained tears, her body trembling with the chill of their new knowledge. One word resonated stronger than any other.
Abduction.
They’d been sent here to uncover a threat to unknown targets with no idea they’d been living in close proximity to their mark’s victims all along.
Shrewd, trained eyes had failed, until recently, to catch the thinly veiled despair cloaking the waif-like women living on the ranch. Newley’s focus hadn’t been on the boss’s daughters other than to determine that they weren’t involved in any illegal activities. The past weeks had shown him there was a lot more to Indie and Grace than met the eye.
Once he’d assured himself and his superiors of Indie’s and Grace’s innocence, his focus had switched to the inordinately larger, and more dangerous task ahead—gathering evidence while maintaining their cover. Not once had he considered the idea that the girls could have a much more sinister past than just a childhood raised by an absentee father on a ranch in the middle of nowhere. It hadn’t occurred to him, or any of the other people involved in this mission, that they might be overlooking what could quite possibly be the ranch boss’s most hideous transgression to date. This ranch and its occupants had secrets and held horrors, they knew that now.
In the meadow, the sudden, too-loud ringing of Newley’s phone made them both jump. He quickly silenced it, raising the phone to his ear after pressing the flashing green button.
“Newley. Anything new before I fill you in on the latest from our end?” a gruff voice barked.
Newley was torn. He was nervous, because there was nothing cheerful about the voice in his ear. But he was also excited, because it might give him intelligence that would help them; that would help the case.
Their increasing knowledge could do nothing but aid them, he finally reasoned. Sighing, he shared a glance with the woman in front of him.
“Yes, Sir,” he admitted. “We’ve located another ranch close to the Montana-Wyoming border, smaller than this one but heavily manned.” Newley winced as a loud curse tore through the phone; his boss, sitting in a darkened office almost two thousand miles away, was obviously unhappy with the news.
Newley hit the ‘speaker’ button so his partner could hear their boss as he swore. “We have the details and a witness account from a worker who was placed there before he came here. If everything goes well, I’ll be faxing it to you in a few days. Our cover remains intact.”
He outlined his plan for the upcoming two weeks, making sure to include all the details. It was a lesson he learned early on and rarely forgot.
The trio memorised the plan of action. Newley explained he and a few of the other ranch hands would soon be travelling to the nearest airport to pick up some new recruits for the ranch. Mr. Smith had suggested they stay in a hotel between the two arranged pick-up dates, which were a week apart, using the free time to get supplies which had been depleted during the winter.
Newley wasn’t on board with the idea of leaving his female colleague behind, but as she frequently reminded him, she was capable of defending herself if she needed to.
Speaking to Jameson as she scowled at Newley’s side, their boss barked, “Jameson, I trust you’ll be updating me daily while Newley is off the ranch?”
Newley and Jameson both understood that while their boss had phrased his words as a question, it was absolutely an order. With that in mind, however much she disagreed, Jameson wasn’t naïve enough to believe she’d get away with arguing. The duo’s boss hummed when she acknowledged his order with a confirmatory, “Yes, Sir.”
“Glad to hear it. Now—we’ve got a lead.”
Newley’s heart took off at a sprint, his stomach full of nervous anticipation. He normally loved this part of a case. The crux. The point upon which the case hinged.
He didn’t feel that way this time.
He was confused, and hopeful, and desperate for some reliable information. If there was a lead, it meant Ryan had to be right, at least on some level. A lead confirmed what they hadn’t known to fear until recently.
The girls weren’t who they claimed to be.
Newley and Jameson tensed. Their eyes were wide and locked as they held their breath.
“We did some digging in the missing person’s records and came up with nothing. However, we had a hit when we threw the net out further afield. England, specifically. Your source was correct, Newley. The girls are not in any way legally connected to Garrett Smith.”
In the dark of night, a lone cloud drifted across the inky sky as Newley and Jameson soaked up their new information. Pivotal, like Newley suspected.
“England, you say? How did they get here if they’ve been reported missing?”
“Involuntarily, I’d guess. At this point we haven’t got anything concrete, but we’ve found records of an Indie Ashby and Grace Davies being reported missing on...February seventh, two-thousand-four.”
The date tumbled around Newley’s head. It took him a few moments to sink in that not only was it looking as though Indie and Grace had a far stranger past than previously thought, but that they weren’t even sisters like they led people to believe. It was a hard pill to swallow, standing in the eerie silence a couple-hundred feet away from the ranch where the ‘family’ currently slept.
“And the child? Marley?”
A sigh. “We’ve got nothing. No reports matching the child’s description here or in England. We really need a picture to compare. DNA, an up-to-date image, or something similar.”
“We’ll do our best when we head t
o Billings, Sir. It’s difficult to get a photo when she’s always with Indie. As for DNA…we’ll give it a go.”
“Good. Without DNA or a picture, we’ve got nothing to go on, nothing to compare. But judging from your description I can hazard a guess at where she came from.”
Newley winced. He’d had the conversation about Marley early on. He’d had to describe the little girl to his boss. She had long, curly chocolate brown hair, was a tiny thing even for her age, which he’d put at around three or four years, and had the sweetest of features. Neither of the older girls had her hair colour, nor did they share her button nose or the almond shape of her eyes.
But Indie did share her eye colour; an unusual sea-blue-green, the likes of which Newley had never seen before, couldn’t be coincidental. Could it?
“And the POA, Sir? This changes things.”
“We’ll carry on as planned, at least until we’ve got confirmation of who these girls are. For all we know, they’re not Ashby and Davies. Until we know for sure, I’m not blowing our cover. You hear me?”
“Loud and clear, Sir.”
“Good.”
With the plan set in place, Newley and Jameson walked back to the house with knots in their stomachs and a renewed hope for their mission, which had seemed like it was coming to a standstill.
Distracted by the new revelations, they were completely unaware of the blue-green eyes watching from the upstairs window.
~ oOo ~
“Just there…that’s it! You got it!”
With a wide grin, Grace also found herself with a racing heart as Ryan caught her gaze to shoot a proud smile her way. His happy eyes danced before returning to the guitar in her lap, where her fingers strummed the melody. Ryan had decided to teach her an easy John Denver song first, but hadn’t realised how close to home “Take Me Home, Country Roads” hit.
It had taken a little over a month, but finally Grace had mastered it and could play the song all the way through without pause. The feeling of accomplishment surging through her body was foreign but very much welcome.
“I’m doing it,” she mumbled, her cheeks aching with the strength of her smile. Indie laughed joyously from across the loft, where she was gently pushing Marley on the rope swing Ryan had suspended from the ceiling. Her ribs weren’t healed just yet, so she winced with every movement, but they were getting there slowly. Laughing and sudden movements still hurt but she could lift Marley if she was careful, and she wouldn’t let the injury ruin this accomplishment for Grace. She refused to let the boss’s tyranny override her pride at Grace’s talent.
“You’re getting really good. Pretty soon, you won’t need me to teach you at all,” Ryan teased, tossing a wink toward Indie when his praise turned Grace’s face crimson.
“Maybe you’re exaggerating just a little.”
Ryan couldn’t stifle his laughter as Grace stopped strumming to pinch two fingers together, leaving the tiniest gap between them. “All right, Missy. Unleashin’ the sass, huh?”
Over the past few weeks, the girls had been…different. Not as tightly strung.
After one of the rungs of a ladder broke two weeks ago, sending Ryan crashing to the ground from a height of over fifteen feet, he’d been confined to the house and the ground floor of the barn on light duties. The large wound on his leg, from hitting a broken piece of wood on the ground when he landed, was healing far slower than either he or the boss would have liked, but Ryan wasn’t overly worried. He could at least get up into the hayloft now he’d repaired the ladder and had a slightly better range of motion with his healing leg.
He wasn’t bothered in the least that it meant he wouldn’t be fit for the supply run. In fact, he was pleased to be staying behind. It meant he’d have unfettered time with the girls while Mr. Smith was away in New York.
Looking at them, Indie smiling as she whispered to Marley on the swing, Grace basking in the warmth of her accomplishment, it was almost impossible to comprehend that they spent so much time hiding from the world.
Someone who hadn’t seen it, who hadn’t known them for as long as he had, wouldn’t believe it. Ryan chuckled under his breath at his musings, reaching up to ruffle his hair while leaning back against the wall to watch his favourite girls smile and enjoy a rare happy day.
~ oOo ~
Outside, the wind howled and the odd spatter of rain splashed the windows of the ranch house. The horses spooked easily in their fields, a jet black stallion galloping gaily with his tail streaming like a banner in his wake.
Paul crossed the living area to lean in the kitchen doorway. His arms were folded over his chest, mouth pulled downward in a frustrated scowl. “Did he say why?”
Lola rolled her eyes. “Does he ever? He came in and said we all have to go. Apparently, he’s taking the family on holiday.” She shrugged, rearranging her ponytail into a loose bun. “I thought the girls were staying behind, but I guess not.”
Paul saw the worry in Lola’s eyes. He didn’t know her well enough to ask about it, and he wasn’t the prying sort, but he desperately wanted to.
“Is anyone staying behind?” he asked instead.
“Nope, don’t think so. Maybe Ryan?” Lola wrangled a little false cheer into her voice before turning to get started on the washing-up. She knew Indie and Grace were out helping Ryan in the barn, so they wouldn’t be back inside until whenever they went to bed. Lola knew from experience that they’d likely spend the evening out there before returning to the house in time to head upstairs. She liked that they were spending more time outside, even if it was only in the barn, but she felt their absence.
“Are you going to help me, or just stand there and watch me do all the work?”
Paul’s slackened jaw brought laughter bubbling up from Lola’s stomach, ending with her clutching at her midsection with giggles shaking her frame. For a long few moments, he watched on in wry amusement, shaking his head while admitting to himself that perhaps she wasn’t as annoying as he’d first thought. Once her giggles had tapered out, he stepped into the kitchen and picked up a dish towel.
They didn’t leave the room until forty minutes later when Grace, Indie, Marley, and Ryan trooped in, their muffled laughter preceding their footsteps.
Despite their strangely upbeat mood, Paul and Lola couldn’t help but feel this was the calm before the storm.
~ oOo ~
“Bananas?”
“Yep, that works. Um, strawberries.”
“Hm…chocolate.”
“Chocolate dipped strawberries.”
Two stomachs released loud grumbles. Indie and Grace giggled noiselessly so they wouldn’t wake Marley, who was sleeping soundly tucked against Indie’s side. Grace rolled her head on the pillow to smile wistfully at her friend.
“I miss chocolate dipped strawberries, Indie Pie.”
“Me too, Gracie. Me too,” Indie sighed. The use of both her childhood nickname and the reminder of her favourite childhood snack made Indie’s stomach twist unpleasantly.
It had been a good day.
Too good.
The boss had arrived back from his trip earlier in the evening, thankfully spending the entire night alone in his study.
Now, as the sun started its descent towards the horizon, the girls found themselves at a loss for things to do. If it weren’t for Ryan’s pain medication making him sleepy, they’d still have been out in the barn together.
It was ironic, Grace thought, that Ryan could hit on the one song perfectly outlining their plight.
She wished the country roads could take them home. Glancing out of the curtain-less window to her right, she could see the rain still hammering against the glass. A soft, rueful smile overtook her face when her eyes found the hayloft where she, Indie, Ryan, and Marley had been just a short while ago. It had become a haven of sorts. It was somewhere they could go once their chores were completed, where they knew they wouldn’t be disturbed or have to listen to the boss stomping around.
Not that he’d been aro
und a lot recently. To everyone’s relief, he’d been hidden away in his study all day, so no new injuries were displayed on Indie’s skin. Her old bruises had been left to heal, too.
“I’m going to get a drink. You want one?” Indie muttered a while later, sliding carefully from the bed before heading for the locked door. She zipped her black jacket over her tank top, glancing back at Grace, who shook her head ‘no.’ Indie let herself out of the room, closing the door behind her with a quiet click before padding downstairs on feet as silent as a mouse. As she passed by the big window beside the front door, she paused to take in the peaceful night.
In the glow of the moon, the track leading away from the ranch looked effervescent; it was oh-so-enticing.
The bolt of longing that sliced through Indie as her eyes remained glued to the farthest part of the track she could see was as familiar as the dry heat that plagued Montana in the summer—as familiar as the quiet ease with which she and Grace had learned to will away the days.
It was as familiar as the pain they felt when they thought of their much-missed families, which admittedly wasn’t all that often. At first, their families were all they could think about. After a while, they realised that the more they thought about their families, the more they missed them and the harder it became to try and settle into their new reality. In the end, they decided it would save their sanity if they just avoided thinking about their past and focused on the present, for fear of spiralling into the depression lingering in the wings like a dog waiting for a bone.
“No!”
An angry yell made Indie jump. She yelped, leaping away from the window and landing awkwardly on her left foot. Her twisted ankle and the sharp pain shooting up her leg filled her eyes with tears.
“I won’t let them get away with everything I’ve worked so hard to build. If they go, they’ll blow it all to shit.”