Tempting as Sin (Sinful, Montana Book 2)

by Rosalind James

  As a tracker, Chuck proved to be rubbish. At the park, he wagged his tail furiously at sight of the ducks, tried to climb up into the little house on the play structure, and lunged at a Frisbee being tossed across the grass. “See?” Rafe told Lily. “Chuck says there’s nothing to worry about.”

  Lily was already heading back to the car. “Last place I can think of,” she said. “After that, you’re right. It’s got to be the police.”

  Rafe shut his mind on the image that kept wanting to creep in, of a hand opening a car door from inside, a male voice calling out, “Need a ride?” Of somebody putting Bailey’s bike in the boot of his car, because they hadn’t found that, either. Of Bailey, in her newly feminine clothes, gawky and pretty as a fawn, trying to get to Kalispell and her grandmother, once she’d had time to think. Of Bailey on the streets in the middle of the night.

  She was scared of men. She was more than wary. She wouldn’t, and if somebody tried to grab her, she’d put up a fight. He told himself that, and then he told himself again.

  They should have gone to the police already. Every minute counted. She was eight.

  No blue bike at the library, either. “I’ll go in anyway,” Lily said, unbuckling her seat belt. “And check if anybody’s seen her. Just in case. And that’s it. We need the cops.”

  No Bailey in the front room. Rafe told himself he hadn’t expected her. Lily moved ahead of him into the back, the children’s section, her heels striking sharp as alarm on the wooden floor.

  No Bailey. Some mothers browsing with their kids, a group of girls in a corner, their heads together, and an Asian girl in a beanbag chair.

  Wait. A shabby blue backpack between that chair and its neighbor, with a line of silver duct tape across it. And a lumpy white pillowcase, stuffed with something that wasn’t a pillow, stained with dirt.

  Lily wobbled on her heels, and then she was crouching down beside the Asian girl, looking graceful even now, and asking her something in a low voice. The girl nodded. And Bailey came out from behind the stacks.

  She was limping. Her bare knees were scraped and smeared with dirt and blood, and her chin was scraped red as well, a bruise forming to rival Lily’s. Her eyes were shadowed, and when she saw Lily, she looked like she wanted to run to her, and also like she just wanted to run. She hovered there, frozen. A fawn.

  Lily didn’t hesitate. She was across the floor, crouching before Bailey, her voice a low murmur, her hand going out to smooth back the girl’s hair. And Bailey’s face was working. Crumpling.

  Lily was on her knees, her arms around the girl, rocking her back and forth. And Bailey was crying.

  Lily had so many questions. She didn’t ask any of them. She told Bailey, “I’d like to take you to my house. Chuck’s in the car. He’d like to see you, too. Is that OK with you?”

  “Yeah,” Bailey said. They waited while she said a muffled, indistinct goodbye to her friend and picked up her backpack, and Lily picked up the pillowcase. When Bailey led them around the side of the building to her bike, Rafe took that and stowed it in the back of his SUV without a word, and Bailey climbed into the back seat and put her arms around Chuck, who responded by licking her face and wagging his tail so hard, it whacked Rafe, in the driver’s seat, in the back of the neck through the gap in the headrest.

  Lily thought, What would Mamá do? “Are you hungry?” she asked, because, yes, that was what her mother would have asked.

  “Yeah,” Bailey said.

  “How about eggs and toast?” Lily asked.

  “OK,” Bailey said.

  Lily was still holding the pillowcase. Now, she opened the top and peeked inside. Something blue and puffy that was probably Bailey’s coat, and, on top of it, a half-full package of cold hot dogs, leaking juice. Two bruised apricots. She shut the pillowcase again and swallowed.

  The photographer was still behind them, leaping out at the entrance to Lily’s driveway and pulling out his camera again, and Bailey asked, “Who’s that?”

  She’d had enough lying in her life, surely. Enough secrets. And so had Lily. “Turns out Clay’s name is really Rafe Blackstone,” she told Bailey. “He’s a movie star.”

  “Oh,” Bailey said.

  “And I’m Australian,” Rafe said. “Full disclosure. Mate.” And Bailey laughed.

  When she was perched at the kitchen counter, wolfing down eggs and toast like there was no tomorrow, Lily said, “Your grandma’s in the hospital, but I guess you know that. I’m guessing you ran away after they took her there. We’ll clean up those scrapes after you eat and keep you out of it. How did that happen?”

  Bailey looked up, her expression wary again. “I fell off my bike by accident. The ambulance came. Last night. I don’t know if my grandma’s OK, though.”

  “She’s still there,” Lily said, “so she’s at least that much OK.” How did you talk about this? About death? “How did the ambulance know to come?”

  “I called 911,” Bailey said. “And then I escaped out the window.”

  “Oh.” Lily thought about that. “Why?”

  “Because otherwise,” Bailey said, “they put you in foster care. If there’s nobody at home.”

  Lily had to pause for a minute. “But you thought to pack your stuff. Good job.”

  “I didn’t exactly,” Bailey said. “Can I give Chuck some toast? I think he’s hungry.”

  Lily yelped. Chuck had his big black nose in Bailey’s pillowcase, and even as she watched, he dragged out the packet of hot dogs with his teeth. Lily jumped down, grabbed hold of the plastic, and said, “Drop it. Drop it.”

  He did. Sort of. Somehow, though, two hot dogs slid down his throat in a single gulp.

  Lily opened the cupboard and dropped the remaining hot dogs in the trash. “He’s not hungry now,” she said. “Wretched dog.”

  Bailey was smiling. “Usually, he eats the package.”

  “So you said. What does he want, another trip to the vet? Another cone? Goofball. So, you didn’t exactly pack.”

  Bailey got to work on her eggs again. “I didn’t have time. Because of needing to escape. And it was in the night. I just took my jacket.”

  “Where did you go?” Rafe asked.

  Bailey lifted one thin shoulder. “The park.”

  Lily made a sound of distress. She couldn’t help it. “The low last night was 51. Why didn’t you come here?”

  “Because I thought…” Bailey said, then clammed up.

  “Because you thought the people who came here were here for you, maybe,” Rafe said. “That’s why you left without your helmet.”

  “Or cops,” Bailey said. “When lots of them come at once, they’re usually cops.”

  “You did a good job escaping,” Rafe said. Calmly. Lily guessed there was a reason he made the big bucks. “You came back later for more of your things, though.”

  “Yeah,” Bailey said. “I didn’t have my shoes, because I didn’t have time. And it was dark. That was why I fell off my bike. I found some cardboard to cover me up from where kids slide down the hill, and I got into the little house on the structure so there wouldn’t be dew. I saw a show on TV about surviving once. They said you had to find someplace that wouldn’t have dew, and shivering was OK, because it keeps you warmer. And they showed homeless people, but I knew about that already, because they have them in Arizona. Homeless people always use cardboard, so I put that underneath me and on my legs. Once it got light, so I could see who was there, I rode back to the trailer and got some more stuff really fast. A blanket, and my shoes and my other clothes, and hot dogs and peas and some other things. I thought I could wear both shirts and my jeans, and I’d be warmer in the night. I could wait until my grandma got out of the hospital if I had a blanket and some food. On the survival show, they ate berries, and there are berries by the creek. I thought I could eat those and drink water from the drinking fountain. People can survive a long time as long as they have water.”

  “Ah,” Rafe said. “Sounds like a practical plan. Th
e little house is where Chuck thought you were. He tracked you.”

  “Really?” Bailey looked excited about that. “Dogs smell forty times better than humans. He really tracked me?”

  “Too right he did,” Rafe said. “Chuck loves you.” Chuck thumped his tail in agreement, and Lily may have choked up some more.

  When Bailey had finished eating, Lily cleaned her scrapes as gently as could. Bailey’s face twisted, but she didn’t cry out. Afterwards, Lily sent her upstairs to take a shower that would hopefully finish the job. The day had been warm again, but the girl still looked cold to Lily. Or maybe it was the image of her huddled under cardboard on a plastic platform, or hunched on the concrete wolfing down a cold hot dog in the barely-there light of a Montana dawn, that did it. Either way, it hurt.

  She’d call Audrey Featherstone and tell her Bailey was found. Tomorrow. It was nearly five, and anyway…she’d call tomorrow. Bailey needed a night to recover, and Lily needed a night to make a plan.

  Rafe stayed. He didn’t ask this time if she wanted him to, and neither did she. He stayed, and they ate steak and vegetables on the couch, in front of the TV.

  There was a reason for that, too. Bailey had asked, “If you’re a movie star, how come you aren’t, like, famous?” And Rafe had choked a little and answered, “Some people say I am.”

  Bailey eyed him narrowly and didn’t answer, and he sighed and said, “I can see I’m going to have to prove myself yet again. The first Urban Decay movie is PG-13. Are you old enough to watch PG-13?”

  Bailey looked affronted. “PG-13 is, like, baby movies.”

  Which was why, now, she was lying on the floor with a blanket over her—a clean blanket—and her arm over Chuck, resting her face on her other arm, watching bloodless violence, and possibly falling asleep. As for Lily, she was curled up on the couch, with Rafe’s arm around her, feeling too lucky. Feeling like home.

  The doorbell rang. Lily jumped, and so did everybody else, including Chuck, who started barking. Then Lily thought, Martin, and her heart calmed down.

  There was no reassuring rat-tat-a-tat-tat.

  The doorbell rang again.

  Rafe said, “Don’t answer.”

  “Police,” she heard. “Open up.”

  Bailey was sitting up. Wild-eyed. Rafe said calmly, “Reporter, more like,” and went to the door. “Show your ID,” he said, then stepped to the window, looked out cautiously, and turned and told Lily, “He is. I’m opening the door.”

  Lily was there with him, and Bailey was scooting away. Crawling, now. All the way into the kitchen.

  “Evening, ma’am,” the cop said. “I’m following up on a report of a missing girl.” He looked beyond the two of them. “Looks like we found her.”

  Lily couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she remembered Bailey’s face as she’d walked out the door with the social worker, holding her backpack and her pathetic, stained pillowcase.

  Betrayal.

  Lily had told her, “I’m going to get you back. Don’t worry. I’m going to come and get you.” She’d been hauling on Chuck’s collar at the time, because he’d wanted to go with Bailey. So had Lily.

  Bailey had looked at her, but her elfin face had been all the way shut down. That wasn’t the worst, though. It was knowing that her soul was in exactly the same state. How much could a little girl take before she stopped trying? How long before she stopped believing her life could get better?

  In bed beside Lily in the dark, Rafe said, “First thing tomorrow, you’ll ring up. We’ll find out how to help.”

  She said, “I know. I’m sorry. I’m keeping you up. You can go home if you want. There’s nothing we can do tonight. I get it.”

  He didn’t sigh, and he didn’t get out of bed. A rustle of bedding as he rolled over, and then he draped his arm over her, tucked her into his body, and said, “Nah. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

  “It was how she knew,” Lily said. “How she didn’t even have to ask. How you can tell she’s walked out the door carrying nothing, going who knows where, so many times. She’s so tired, and she’s so scraped up. Will they put antibiotic ointment on her? When will she get to bed tonight? Will she have pajamas to change into when she does? Did anybody give her a hug?”

  “I don’t think she wants a hug,” Rafe said.

  The tears were rising behind Lily’s eyes. “I know. That poor baby. I just…I can’t stand it. I need to do something. I need to take her some pajamas. I need to give her a hug.”

  He stroked a hand over her hair. “I know. Maybe you should get up and make a list.”

  She groped for a tissue on the bedside table and wiped her eyes. “A list?”

  “We’ll find out where she is,” he said. “Once we do, you can take her those pajamas. Clean undies and socks. We can take her bike to her, and her helmet. What else?”

  “Books,” she said. He was right. They could still help. All they had to do was find out where Bailey’d been taken. “We could go to Kalispell. They have a bookstore.”

  “Good idea,” he said. “Get up and write that list, then. In the morning, you’ll ring up and find out what we can do. We’ll go see her, and we’ll take her everything you can think of. We’ll let her know she has people who love her and are standing by her, whatever she thought tonight. The worst thing to lose is hope. Worse than losing a home. Even worse than losing a person. We can make sure she doesn’t lose that, and we will.”

  She turned to him. She had to, even though she was crying for real now. “You are such a good man,” she said. “And I love you. You’re so…you’re just good. How did you get that good?”

  He laughed a little, then kissed her forehead and smoothed her hair some more. He found her even in the dark, and it was as if he wrapped his hands around her heart and held it close and safe.

  There was no protection, and she knew it. Maybe there was, though, because surely, that was what she was feeling. “Don’t you think,” he said, “that that’s why I love you, too? Don’t you imagine that I love you, and your sister loves you, and Hailey and Chuck and Bailey all love you, because you see the best in us and make us want to be even better, to be what you see? How could anybody not love you? I know you’ll help. You won’t rest until you do. Get up and make your list now, baby. You’ll feel better. And in the morning, we’ll see.”

  “They may not want to tell us,” she said. She’d gone beyond tissues now and was wiping her face on the sheet. “It’s the county. It’s bureaucracy.”

  “Ah,” he said, “but I’ve got a weapon for that, too. My superpower.”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  She couldn’t see him, but she knew he was smiling. “Not to be a cocky bastard,” he said, “but most county employees are women. And I’m sexy.”

  It wasn’t easy. The photographer was back in the morning, and he had friends. A cameraman, a sound man, and a reporter. A full complement. Rafe ignored them, and after some hesitation, Lily did, too. But when they were sitting in county social worker Charmaine Hopkins’ tiny office in a drab government building, files stacked in a vertical holder half-covering the desk and Charmaine herself regarding Lily soberly from across it, he could tell that Lily wanted to bang her head against the wall.

  “She’s here?” Lily asked. “In Kalispell? But her friends are in Sinful. Her dog. Her life. It’s summer. What will she even do all day?”

  “We have to place her where we have a suitable foster home,” Charmaine said. “Montana always has a shortage of foster parents. But then, show me a state that doesn’t. She’s lucky she’s a girl, and that she’s young. Boys are even harder, and teenagers are the hardest of all.”

  “Bailey’s never been lucky in her life,” Lily said, sounding fiercer than Rafe had ever heard her.

  “We appreciate you making time for us,” Rafe put in. “And giving us more information.” It would give Lily a minute to gather herself, he hoped.

  “Maggie Howden’s a friend,” Ch
armaine said, sounding stiff. But, Rafe thought, Charmaine was a fan. Her face had softened a bit when she’d looked at him, and he’d swear she’d gone a bit breathless when he’d introduced himself.

  “How’s her grandmother doing?” he asked.

  Charmaine looked like she wanted to melt some more, but the fan was warring with the professional. He helped her along with a smile. “I’d like to know,” he said, “and we didn’t have a chance to stop by the hospital. Too eager to get here.”

  “I can’t share that,” Charmaine said.

  “But you see,” Rafe said, “you can. Ruby’s my aunt.”

  She looked at him flatly. “Your aunt.”

  “Yeah.” He propped an ankle over his knee. He was wearing his tightest jeans and a black T-shirt today, just in case it was helpful. It generally was. “My mum’s younger sister. Black sheep, you could say.” He grinned, letting her in on the secret. “That’s not me, shockingly enough. Reckon it’s all in the comparison. That’s why I’m here in Montana, though. My mum’s American, originally. We keep that quiet. Can’t be Crocodile Dundee with a Yank mum, can you? My brother Jace bought the cabin here for the same reason. You could say we were raised on the stories. Wolves and grizzlies, wild horses running free in the valleys, and the mountains all around. Romantic stuff.”

  Charmaine eyed him narrowly. “And you haven’t shared this before why?”

  He raised a hand and dropped it onto his leg again, and she looked at it. He had big hands. Something about them usually worked on women. “Maybe you’ve seen,” he said, “that I’ve been a bit, ah, followed by the press recently.” His smile now was confidential. “I hate to give them another story. Also, I hate to say it, but Aunt Ruby’s been known to ask for money. You could say we love her best from afar.”

  “You realize I could check this,” she said.

  He shrugged, and this time, she looked at his chest. Possibly his arms as well. He did a bit of subtle flexing. “No worries,” he said. “I’m not asking for anything. Just a word on Aunt Ruby’s condition. My mum rang the hospital,” he improvised wildly, “but she’s not listed as next of kin, so no joy there. They had a bit of a falling-out. That money, you know. Jace and I, well…we’re a wee bit…ah, extra-comfortable. Too many houses on the beach between us, I reckon. We’ve had more than our fair share of luck, no doubt about it, but some people tend to take advantage, don’t they?”