by Lucy Farago
Everyone at ICU knew Monty’s opinion on religion. But as Monty stayed out of Cowboy’s life, Cowboy stayed out of his. “Her little vacation doesn’t tie her to Jessie. Could be a coincidence.”
“Maybe. I have a theory, though. She wasn’t supposed to be driving after her last incident, which as you know wasn’t the first.”
If he remembered correctly, it had been her third. The first two had been basic pull-overs, late evenings in a bar and her not calling a cab. The third had involved the tree in front of the elementary school. “Did she get pulled over again? That would be really dumb of Stanton to allow his wife access to car keys.”
“They couldn’t prove it. The cops, I mean. Stanton’s SUV was tagged going through a red light. Four days after she hit the tree. He was in Washington at the time, but traffic cameras don’t always catch who’s driving. One of the ranch hands took the blame. Claims he borrowed the truck to load supplies, even though Stanton has trucks for the ranch.”
Cowboy squinted up at the sun, it’s outline visible behind a church across the street. “I take it the cops aren’t buying it.”
“He couldn’t produce a receipt for those supplies. Which is odd considering that’s a working ranch. They checked their books and found a record of the purchase with the date, but no actual proof. That easily could’ve been filled in later to make it look like he was telling the truth.”
“Wouldn’t be that family’s first cover-up. What do you think this has to do with the missing girl?” Cowboy sat on one of the wooden benches just in front of the restaurant.
“The day after she went missing, Mrs. Stanton’s SUV went in for repair. The shop claims they repaired a broken trunk latch and replaced the back bumper after Stanton’s foreman scratched it trying to do the job himself.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Said he thought he knew what he was doing.”
“What are you thinking? She went out for another party ride and backed into something?”
“And Jessie discovered the truth. Maybe caught Mrs. Stanton taking that joy ride.”
“Getting rid of a reporter for something like that is a little extreme, even for the Stantons.”
“You’d think, but maybe it wasn’t intentional. You know, bring her in to scare her and then oops, something goes wrong.”
Monty was right. It was never good to ignore even the tiniest of clues. “Okay, worth looking into. What else?”
“Her phone records show she received a call from the ranch that day. Not from the senator because he really was in Washington.”
“Then who called her?” he asked, more to himself than Monty.
“And why did she drive out there?”
“How do you know she was there?” He regretted asking the moment it came out of his mouth. If Monty said she’d driven out, he had his reason.
“Tsk, tsk. You questioning my genius?”
“Never.”
“She filled her car at a gas station not ten minutes from the ranch. When you go out there you’ll see.”
He knew the one Monty meant.
“There isn’t anything else around there for miles except that station. Doesn’t prove she was at the ranch, but she gets the call and thirty minutes later she’s filling up down the road from the ranch. Odd, right? The police did question the family. Apparently the senator had agreed to the interviews as long as nothing negative was said. She’d written a rough draft and shown it to them for their approval, but she left it behind. Lyle Stanton claimed Madeline Stanton, the senator’s wife, called Jessie, but she never showed to pick it up.”
“They bought that?”
“I doubt it. The notepad went missing.”
If there’d ever been one. “Were you able to get your hands on what she wrote?” There too the cops had said little.
“Notepad or not, she did send something to her editor. My friend said the article does indeed paint Stanton in a good light. Nothing racy or cause for alarm. He’s working on getting me a copy.”
So nothing he’d want to hurt Jessie for. “No mention of his wife.”
“My informant didn’t actually see it. I can’t answer that one way or the other. But the cops have unofficially added the Stanton family to the suspect list. That family is too powerful for them to step on any toes just yet. You should know Mrs. Stanton also gets a day pass for her granddaughter’s sixteenth. I’ll send you the details of the judge’s statement, if you want to go over it.”
“Thanks, Monty.” He needed to get back to Grace before she sent out a search party. “Anything else.”
“Yup. Josh Higgins went to school with Grace Irvine.”
“TNT?” He opened the door for two elderly women entering the restaurant, who thanked him.
“Yeah, small world, right? He did a semester up north before finishing his engineering degree at M.I.T. He said that’s how he fell in love with explosives. Some course on mine engineering. Anyway, he knows Grace. They dated before he changed schools.”
“Did he manage to piss her off like he does every woman?” Josh, aka TNT, had a natural talent for making women want to blow him up and not in a good way.
“No, says they parted amicably. Go figure. Anyway maybe she’ll trust you a little more if you find a way to bring him up in the conversation. It’ll give you a connection.”
How the hell was he going to do that? “Got any bright ideas on how I steer the conversation to explosive engineering?”
“Everyone has a talent. Yours is charm. You’ll think of something.”
“Sure,” he said, not entirely confident. “Anything else?”
“No. Now go out and charm, my son.”
“Smartass,” he muttered and hung up. He slipped his phone into his back pocket and headed inside the restaurant. Could Mrs. Stanton have had something to do with Jessie’s disappearance? He guessed it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities. He’d like to get ahold of Jessie’s story and her notes and it dawned on him that perhaps Grace was his source for that information. Had she seen it before the cops had sealed them? And how was he going to get his hands on them?
Chapter Five
He found Grace sipping from her wine glass in one hand while the other held her phone as she scrolled with her thumb. “Sorry I took so long.” He sat. “I had to return a call.”
“That’s all right. I had some messages of my own to check. I took the liberty of ordering an appetizer. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Except for octopus, I eat pretty much anything.” When you’re fourteen and starving, you learn very quickly that it doesn’t much matter what food tastes like.
“Oh good, because it’s oysters done three ways. They sounded so good when the waitress described them I had to try. We can order something else if you like and, of course, dinner is on me. It’s the least I can do.”
He smiled. For someone who didn’t seem keen on people, she was a people pleaser. “Like I said, I’m not fussy. Oysters are fine. I was hoping you wouldn’t kick up a fuss about dinner. I asked you to join me, therefore, I am prepared to handle the check. And you wouldn’t want to deprive me of pissing off my boss with my expenses, would you? Besides, you’re already returning the favor for my driving.”
“How so?”
“It’s going to sound corny, and as jaded as you are you might not believe me, but I’m not having my dinner alone. Your company is a welcome change.” And honestly, it was.
“You say that like you eat alone often.”
“My job keeps me busy. I have friends and coworkers but not anyone as pretty as you.” He wasn’t kidding. He couldn’t remember the last date he’d been on. That wasn’t to say he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten laid. But the two didn’t necessarily go hand in hand. This was a welcome change. He liked Grace and figured she was the type of woman who didn’t bullshit. Something he could appreciate.
She regarded him for a moment, likely using a bullshit detector she’d probably perfected. When she smile
d, he knew he’d come out on top.
“It’s nice having dinner with you too.”
The waitress arrived and proceeded to tell them the house specials and her recommendations. Cowboy had already decided he wanted the Moroccan lamb tagine. “Have you looked at the menu?” he asked Grace when the young woman was done. “I know what I want.”
“I’m ready if you are.”
They gave their orders, his the lamb, hers the seafood pasta in a cream sauce with a leafy green salad on the side. As they waited for their food he decided the direct approach with Grace would work best. She was too cynical not to get suspicious of his probing into Jessie’s disappearance. “I don’t mean to pry,” he started, “but you mentioned your friend was missing.” He immediately regretted saying it, but only because the pretty smile she’d been giving him vanished.
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Three days now. She had a five p.m. return flight. She never showed. She said she had to check something and then we’d meet up when she got home.”
“I’m really sorry about that. The police have no clues?”
“Nothing they’re telling me,” she said, obviously frustrated with being left out of the loop.
He knew the feeling. Perhaps if her father was a little more forthcoming, she wouldn’t be taking it upon herself to do some snooping on her own. Then again, it might encourage her to do exactly what she was doing. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”
“How is that a good thing?”
“They could have something and can’t afford to have it leaked.” Considering they were dealing with a highly visible political family, they had to proceed with caution. The fallout could be brutal, for them, the Stantons, and most of all Jessie. That is, if she were still alive.
“But that’s ridiculous. My father knows I wouldn’t do anything to hamper this investigation. This is my best friend,” she said incredulously.
“Emotions can get in the way of good decisions. I’m not saying you’d do anything on purpose, mind you. Just don’t give up hope. They could have a lead and not want to share. Your friend,” he said, feeling the need to shift the conversation, “she’s a reporter. Is she the one Stanton referred to?”
“We work for the same paper.”
“And she was doing a story on the senator?”
“Yes,” she smiled as if fondly remembering something, “but not the one she was assigned to.”
Interesting. “What’s got you smiling?”
“Jessie. Only she could turn an exposé into a human-interest story. If they don’t find her….” She paused to take a deep breath. “This is my fault.”
“Her disappearance?” At least her father hadn’t lied about that. Grace did blame herself.
“She was happy doing the fluffy angle. She likes cute community stories that make people smile. That made her feel safe. I should have left it at that. But no, I wanted her to see the world for what it was.” She shook her head. “Like there was something wrong with the way she chose to see it,” she muttered.
“How did she see it?” He drank more of his beer, seemingly moderately interested but very curious to know the woman Jessie had become.
“Don’t get me wrong about her. She wasn’t naïve. She understood bad people existed. Hell, she even had this sixth sense about it. But she chose to only look for the good, so much so that it was like she was afraid of what would happen should she come face to face with the bad. She avoided bad at all costs. That can make someone vulnerable.”
“And you thought she needed to see the bigger picture? How?”
“The Stanton story, I’m ashamed to say, was mine. I encouraged my editor to give it to Jessie. At first he said no, then I got a call saying he’d changed his mind. That family has had more than its share of scandals and there was no way his people could spin his wife’s latest screwup. But somehow Jessie figured out how to get the senator to open up. Her story would not only have painted him in a favorable light but might have gotten him reelected.”
She had seen what Jessie had been working on. Now, to get Grace to share.
“I mean, he wouldn’t be the first politician with baggage to get elected. His nephew was charged with rape and basically walked. People were—hell, still are—outraged. And every time it happens again, they’ll be reminded of that asshole and the judge that someone most likely bribed.”
Reading about what had happened to that poor girl had brought up memories he hadn’t wanted to remember. He could only imagine how hard it must have been for Jessie to hear of another Stanton repeating history. “Okay, but how is her disappearance your fault?”
“If I’d minded my own business, she wouldn’t have been checking out anything with Stanton.”
“Wrong place, wrong time? You don’t know that.” But there was something in the way she said it that that led him to believe it wasn’t what she truly meant.
“All I know is she disappeared while working on a story I gave her.”
“Do you think Stanton has something to do with her disappearance?” He might as well come out and ask.
“No, of course not,” she said, playing with a corner of her napkin. “The police have interviewed the senator about Jessie. He couldn’t tell them anything they didn’t already know.”
But she didn’t believe it. Why?
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. If there is something I can do to help find her, I will. I don’t care what my father says.”
He’d been afraid she’d say that. Keeping this one out of trouble was going to be a lot harder than he’d hoped. On the plus side, he wanted to know what had happened to Jessie almost as much as Grace. He couldn’t very well stop Grace from doing anything she set her mind to. The next best thing was to make sure he was right there beside her when she was doing it. Ryan would be pissed, but he’d deal with that later.
“Do you like what you do? More than riding in a rodeo? Seems a little tame compared to hanging on to a tiny handle for dear life.”
Not wanting to arouse suspicion by being too pushy with his questions, he allowed her to change the subject. “It puts food on the table.” If he hadn’t been hired to watch her, he could come out and tell her who he was, but while he’d been Cowboy longer than the kid who’d run away, with her being a reporter, she might get it in her head to go digging into his past. And that he couldn’t have.
Their oysters arrived, curtailing any discussion until the waitress left. He needed to find a way to get her to show him Jessie’s notes, to get her to trust him.
“Three ways? Let’s see.” He leaned into the dish set between them. “Deep fried.” He pointed to the shells going from left to right. “Raw. But what’s this?” he asked of the remaining morsel covered in what looked like bread crumbs and parsley.
“Broiled. It’s oysters Rockefeller.”
“Huh, I’ve only ever had them raw. With lots of tequila.”
“We can order something else if you like.”
“No, like I said, this is good. I’ve just never eaten them sober. Now my friend T, I watched him put away forty of these… with ten shots of vodka… and a bottle of hot sauce. I swear if it’s not burning a hole in your stomach, that man isn’t eating it.”
“T?” she asked.
“TNT, to be exact.” Among other things. “His real name is Josh Higgins, but we don’t call him that on account of he likes to make things go boom.”
“Josh Higgins?” she asked, taking the bait. “Tall? Blond? Tribal tattoo on his left shoulder?”
“Yeah. You know him?” he said, acting surprised. It wasn’t an uncommon name and tall and blond could fit quite a few, but add the tattoo and it narrowed the playing field.
“I went to school with a Josh Higgins. Maybe it’s the same guy. But he was an engineering student.”
He gave her a wide grin. “That would be him. Josh is an explosive engineer. TNT…boom,” he explained.
“Wow, what a coincidence.” She picked up her fork and s
peared the deep-fried oyster. Then she surprised him offering it to him. “You looked like you needed a little encouragement.”
He opened his mouth and allowed her to feed him. He chewed. Yeah, it was all right but nothing he’d order again. If not for the breading it pretty much tasted like nothing.
“How do you know Josh?” she asked.
“We met through a mutual friend.” Ryan had assigned Josh to a case and Cowboy had had to find and deliver a tank to him. They weren’t super close but had shared a few pizzas and a couple of cases of beer. “We do a few ball games every year. You said you went to school with him?”
“We dated actually, but then he changed schools and we went our separate ways. Small world…you knowing him, I mean.”
“What are the odds? You going to eat that raw one with hot sauce? Do you need some tequila? Or vodka?”
“Josh still drink vodka?” she hedged in a way that said she still had feelings for the guy. Then she picked up the shell with the raw oyster and examined it intently.
“Yup, and if it isn’t Russian, he won’t drink it.” On that point he had to agree with the man.
She made a soft humming sound as if remembering something fondly. This was good, he reminded himself. If she’d once cared for Josh, or still cared, he could use that to his advantage. “You talk to him lately?”
“No, we kind of drifted apart. He’s doing good?”
“He’s doing what he loves.” The man loved gunpowder… and redheads, but that he kept to himself. Looking at the beauty in front of him, he could see why.
“I’m glad. He was a good man.”
“Still is. Next time I talk to him I’ll tell him you say hello.” He’d make a point of doing that tonight. If she were reluctant to trust him, he might need Josh to surprise Grace with a call.
She hesitated, then nodded. “Sure. Give him my best.”
They chatted amiably until dinner arrived, Cowboy telling her a story about Josh and a Fourth of July fireworks display that had nearly gotten them killed and her recalling his scary fascination with fire.