by Elle James
Juan spun and walked toward the bay door.
“Juan,” Matt called out. “I need your help. If you know anything about these people, I could really use a clue. They killed a woman and took her small daughter. They would have taken the woman’s baby, too, if Ms. Blanchard hadn’t gotten to it first, while taking a large stick to three of the men involved.”
A smile tugged at Juan’s mouth. “Your woman hit them?” His smile faded. “Good for her. And bad for her. They don’t forgive and they never forget.”
Now he was getting somewhere. Matt waved Juan deeper into the shop. “You should come inside. If anyone is watching, I don’t want them to think you’re discussing anything but the part you brought me and any other automobile parts I might want you to be on the lookout for.”
Juan frowned. “I want to make it clear. I don’t know anything.” He started to walk back to the parking lot where he’d left his truck.
“The little girl’s name is Isabella. Her baby sister is Marianna. They lost their mother. Please don’t let them lose each other,” Matt pleaded. “Anything you might know that could lead us to where they might be holding the girl might mean the difference between life and death for that child.”
Juan stood with his back to Matt. He didn’t move, but he didn’t speak either.
“Juan, how old is your little girl?” Matt asked, knowing it was playing dirty to throw Juan’s family into the conversation. “What if someone took her? Wouldn’t you do anything, including moving heaven and earth, to find her?”
“She’s four. And yes.” Juan spun to face him. “My Lucinda is everything to me. If someone took her, I’d do anything to get her back. Then I’d injure the bastards who took her, and I’d leave their bodies where the buzzards could pick their flesh from their bones one bite at a time...while they were still alive.” His face twisted into a mask of anger. “I’d want them to feel all the pain and know that what they’d done was wrong.”
“You concur that men who steal children and sell them into the sex trade are the lowest of despicable life?” Matt asked.
“Yes,” Juan agreed adamantly.
“Then please—” Matt reached out to touch the man’s arm “—tell me anything you know. I promise not to reveal my source.”
Juan looked to the corner of the ceiling, his jaw firm. “They will know.”
“If we get info from another source, they’ll still suspect you and anyone else they think caught a whiff of something. At least if you help us, we can put them away faster. After we free the girl. I want to corner them and watch their faces as we show them what happens to men who trade in human flesh.” He drew in a breath and let it out. “Right now, what we’re most concerned about is helping Isabella. We have to find her before they complete the deal. If it’s not already too late.”
Juan looked at the car on the lift for a long time without saying a word. Then he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What other parts do you need from me?”
“Just one,” Matt said. “The part that helps me find a little girl.”
Juan dropped his hand to his side. “It could take a while for me to locate that part.”
“I don’t have a lot of time,” Matt said. “The longer I wait, the less likely I will be able to fix the problem.”
Juan nodded. “I’ll do my best to locate the part in the least amount of time. Sometimes the parts aren’t where they were before. But I have sources who can help me find them where they are.”
Matt nodded, understanding Juan’s need to speak in shoptalk. If anyone happened by and overheard them talking, they could be the next victims of the coyote killers.
Juan returned to his truck.
Matt followed and stood by the driver’s window. “Thank you my friend. I look forward to hearing from you about that part.” He held out his hand.
Juan reached through the window and shook Matt’s hand. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you.” At least he’d gotten a commitment out of Juan. Unfortunately, his friend hadn’t known where Isabella was being held.
Yet.
Knowing Juan, he’d get that information from his vast connections and pass it back to him.
Matt prayed it didn’t get Juan into trouble with the coyote men in the process. He hadn’t wanted to put the family man in danger, but they had to take some risks in order to find the little girl as quickly as possible.
“What did your friend have to say?” Aubrey stepped out of Matt’s office, slipping her cell phone into her back pocket. He knew she’d wanted to be part of the conversation, but it was probably better he talked to the man alone.
“He didn’t know where they were keeping Isabella, but he has contacts and will tap on them and see what they know,” Matt drew her into his arms. Holding her was as natural to him as breathing. “What did the sheriff have to say?”
Aubrey sighed and leaned her forehead against his chest. “They followed the ATV tracks in the field where Rosa was shot. They led to a dirt road where we assume the ATVs were loaded onto a trailer and taken away, either to be stashed in dense foliage, or transported back to whatever hiding place they’ve commandeered.”
“Which leads us where?” he whispered, smoothing a hand over her auburn hair.
“Nowhere. Absolutely nowhere.” Aubrey curled her fingers into Matt’s shirt. “I can’t imagine what Isabella is going through right now. She must be frightened out of her mind.”
Matt’s chest tightened at the sob in Aubrey’s voice. “We have to have faith that we’ll find her. And we have to keep looking.” He tipped her chin up and stared down into watery eyes. “We’ll find her,” he said. How, he wasn’t sure, but he had to do his best. For Isabella. For Marianna. For Aubrey. For his mother—the angel in the casa, helping those who couldn’t help themselves.
Chapter Eight
Aubrey drove out to the Whiskey Gulch Ranch, following Matt’s directions, eager to see more clearly the spread the town was named after and the people she’d barely met but heard so much about already.
“Wasn’t the senior Mr. Travis murdered recently?” she asked as they passed through the gate and started down the long, curving drive through a stand of gnarled scrub oak trees. They emerged from the trees to be flanked on both sides by wide-open pastures dotted with horses and cattle. Once again, they entered a stand of trees to emerge a minute later into the bright Texas sunshine. Ahead was a green, grassy knoll upon which stood a rambling house made of white limestone and cedar timbers. Wide porches wrapped around the house with swings and rocking chairs inviting tired hands to rest a spell. Aubrey hadn’t been to the house in the daylight. It was welcoming at night, but even more so in the light of day.
The place beckoned Aubrey to come, sit on the porch and drink iced tea. She could feel the peace and tranquility of it and was glad she’d be staying there for a few days. At least until they found Isabella and brought the murderers to justice.
If they didn’t do both, the coyotes would continue to prey on the innocent and more children would be lost.
As she pulled to a stop in front of the house, Mrs. Travis emerged onto the front porch and hurried down the steps toward them.
“Oh, my dear Ms. Blanchard,” she said without preamble. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through such a terrible night.” She engulfed Aubrey in a warm hug that made her feel like part of the family.
“Call me Aubrey,” she said.
“Please, call me Rosalynn,” Mrs. Travis said.
“How’s the baby?” Aubrey asked, looking past Rosalynn to the house.
Lily came out on the porch carrying Marianna, balancing a baby bottle beneath her chin.
Rosalynn laughed. “Marianna is doing great. She misses her mother, but she’s taking to the bottle of formula like a champ.”
Aubrey climbed the steps to the porch.
“Do you want to hold her?” Lily asked.
The ache in her heart was so strong, it nearly brought her to her knees. “Yes, please.”
Rosalynn waved a hand toward one of the rocking chairs. “Take a seat and Lily can hand you the baby and the bottle.”
Aubrey dropped into a rocking chair, her knees feeling suddenly weak. She held out her arms as Lily laid the baby in them.
Marianna took a shaky breath and went back to sucking on the bottle, her eyes blinking sleepily.
Holding a baby and feeding her a bottle felt natural and strange at the same time. Aubrey had breastfed Katie until she was able to eat solid foods. As Marianna sucked on the bottle, Aubrey stared at the dark-haired baby, as different from Katie as night and day. Katie had a light dusting of peach fuzz when she was born but didn’t get a full head of hair until nearly four years old.
Marianna had thick rich black hair and dark brown eyes. The babies were quite different, and both absolutely beautiful in their own way.
Aubrey swallowed the lump rising in her throat. Now wasn’t the time to let her emotions get the better of her.
“Hey, sweet Marianna,” she whispered. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well. We’re going to find your sister and bring her home to you. Did you know that?”
“The sheriff’s department contacted the Customs and Border Patrol about Marianna. Health and Human Services department are on their way to collect her. She’ll need to be evaluated for overall health and given appropriate vaccinations before her uncle can collect her.”
“Poor baby,” Aubrey cooed. “Gonna be poked and prodded and no mama to hold you and tell you everything will be all right.” Those tears she’d been holding tight slipped free. “Now, look at me, getting you all wet.” She laughed on a sob.
“Hopefully, we will have found her sister by the time Marianna goes home to her uncle in Hico,” Matt said. “In the meantime, what room do you want me to put Aubrey’s things in?”
Rosalynn smiled. “I’ve got one ready. Do you need help with her bags?”
“No,” Matt said. “She only had two.”
Rosalynn frowned. “Only two?” She turned her glance to Aubrey. “I thought you’d be staying with us for longer than that.”
Aubrey chuckled. “I only have two bags’ worth of things,” she said. “You could say I’m going with the minimalist approach.”
“Oh, sweetie,” Rosalynn said. “I hope you make Whiskey Gulch your home and collect a lot more than just two bags. It’s not a bad place to live. Like anywhere, a very few people make it miserable for the majority. I have faith this will resolve, and life will get back to normal.”
Aubrey didn’t mention that it seemed to be a recurring theme. As her hostess, Rosalynn didn’t need another reminder of the loss of her husband.
“Do you want me to take Marianna while you get your things settled?” Lily asked.
“As much as I’d love to just hold her, I need to shower and change into my scrubs. I have a patient who will be waiting for me to help her with her lunch and meds at noon.” Aubrey reluctantly handed Marianna to Lily.
“I’m glad you’ll be staying for a while,” Lily said. “It’s nice to have another woman around the house to keep me and Rosalynn company.”
Trace stepped out onto the porch and slipped an arm around his fiancée. “What? Are you telling me you don’t enjoy talking about guns and deer hunting?”
“Of course, but I also enjoy talking about hair, nails, fashion and the best time of the month to try to get pregnant.”
Trace sputtered. “What?” He shook his head. “Don’t you think I would be interested in a subject like that?”
Lily’s lips twitched. “Which subject? Hair and nails?”
He glared at her. “You know damn well the pregnancy subject. Seeing as I’d have to go along with whatever plan you cook up.” His brow eased and he smiled down at her. “You do look good with a baby in your arms.”
“And so will you,” she said. “Plan on a fifty-fifty split of diaper changes when we have one of our own.”
Trace crossed his arms over his chest. “I can handle that.”
His mother snorted. “We’ll see. He couldn’t clean up puppy poop without gagging as a child.”
“Mom, I’m not a child anymore. I’ve dealt with much worse.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, a knowing smile curling her lips.
Holding a baby had reminded Aubrey how much she’d loved being a mother. Though the thought of bringing another baby into the world scared her to death. How could she willingly bring a child into a world where evil men existed to prey on small innocents? The odds of it happening again were slim, but wait... Here she was again, searching for a missing little girl.
Aubrey pushed to her feet, her body protesting at the lack of sleep. A shower should wake her enough to see this one patient. Then she’d get to work searching for more clues as to the whereabouts of Marianna’s sister. She hoped Matt’s contact would come through by then and they could raid whatever building they were keeping the little girl in.
Matt hurried out to her Jeep and returned with her two bags.
Aubrey followed Rosalynn up the stairs and to the right.
“We built onto the original house, hoping to fill it with little ones. Alas, James and I were only gifted with one child, Trace. Seemed such a waste to have so many bedrooms and so few people in them.” She paused in front of one door and smiled. “Now I’m glad we added the rooms. With Trace home, Lily working for us, Irish working for the ranch and the protection service Trace is starting up, and Matt and now you, we have plenty of room for all of you.”
She pushed open the door to a room with a queen-size bed draped in soft gray-blue and white tones. The filmy curtains over the widows muted the sun’s rays, while allowing enough light to fill the space.
“This is lovely,” Aubrey said. “Thank you for letting me stay while we’re searching for Isabella.”
“And you’ll stay through the cottage renovations, won’t you?” Rosalynn prodded.
“We’ll see. I don’t want to impose on your kindness,” Aubrey said.
“No imposition at all,” Rosalynn assured her. “Everyone helps around here, so it’s not a chore to keep up with the place.”
“I fully expect to help. And pay rent. I can’t expect to live here free of charge.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Rosalynn waved a hand. “Trace and Matt can afford to pay the utilities.”
“That’s not the point. I like my independence. It’s important to me.”
“Then take the rent out in trade. Cook a meal every once in a while or clean a stall. I can tell you now, Matt won’t take your money. He’s probably feeling responsible for what happened to his mother’s house and the fact you’ve been displaced because of it.” She smiled at Matt, who’d just entered the room with Aubrey’s bags. “Is that right?”
“Don’t go putting words in my mouth,” he grumbled. “But yes. Rosalynn is right. You can’t live in my mother’s house while it’s being repaired. Since you’re here, rather than move again, you might as well stay until the repairs are complete.”
Aubrey looked from Matt to Rosalynn and back. “You’re not going to let me change your mind?”
Matt and Rosalynn shook their heads simultaneously.
“Okay. But if you get tired of me, all you have to do is tell me. I can find somewhere else to live for a few weeks.”
“Now that we’ve settled your temporary living arrangements,” Rosalynn said, “the bathroom is across the hall. There are towels in the cabinet behind the door. Help yourself. I’ll have ham sandwiches waiting when you’re done in the shower. All I need to know is do you prefer mayo or mustard?”
“Mustard,” Aubrey said.
“I prefer mustard as well,” Matt said as he set the two cases on the end of the
bed.
“I wasn’t asking you,” Rosalynn said. “You can make your own sandwich.”
“Yes, ma’am. I guess my guest status has reached a limit,” he said with a wink.
She gave a firm nod. “You bet. You’re one of us, now.”
“I’ll take it,” he said, and hugged her.
Rosalynn’s cheeks reddened. “I wish your father could have known you were his son while you were growing up. You’re not as bad as you had the town believe.”
“I’m glad the act I put on worked.” He scooted out the door of Aubrey’s bedroom and stood in the hallway. “My room is next to yours, if you need anything.”
Aubrey nodded. “Thanks for bringing my things up.”
“I’m going to make a sandwich. With mustard.”
“Leave us some of that ham,” Rosalynn called out after him.
Matt left the two women, his feet clattering down the steps to ground level.
“That boy,” Rosalynn said with a twisted smile. “I believe I love him like my own.”
Aubrey didn’t remark on the fact the older woman had called Matt a boy. He was anything but. Pure, adult male was a better description of the muscular man who appeared tough with his leathers and motorcycle but underneath was gentle and caring. “Thank you for showing me the room and letting me stay.”
“Oh, the ranch isn’t mine. It’s up to the new owners, Trace and Matt, who stays and who goes.”
“I would have thought ownership would have passed to you, after your husband’s death,” Aubrey said.
Rosalynn smiled. “I didn’t want the headache. I wouldn’t let James leave it to me. I asked for a nest egg of money and to be free of managing the land and people.”
“You’re smart and strong enough to manage his ranch,” Aubrey pointed out.
“I know that, but I don’t have the drive and determination of Trace and Matt. If they keep it, they’ll take it to the next level. They’re sharp, driven, and the competitive spirit will keep them looking for more sustainable ways for this land to pay for itself and its upkeep. As long as they own it, I have a place to stay. I hope they choose to bring me grandchildren to spoil.”