by Lucy Farago
Two first responders rushed through the door. They examined the body and confirmed her death. When the ambulance arrived, they’d already packed up. The police showed up some thirty seconds later. He’d answered all of their questions by the time Chief Irvine charged in ten minutes later, with Grace following close behind. He took one look at Lily and scowled at Cowboy.
“Dad,” Grace said, “this is Daniel Bailey. He drove me here. We’re staying at the same hotel.”
“Is this your jacket my daughter is wearing?”
Well it was nice to pretend meet him again too. “Yes, sir.”
“Irvine?” the senator returned, not look happy about the chief of police showing up at his doorstep.
“Senator. Really sorry about this. Shame to ruin your granddaughter’s birthday.”
“Then let’s not do that,” Lyle Stanton said, now having joined his son. “I don’t mean to be coldhearted, but why is her body still here?” And if he’d been unhappy before, it didn’t compare to how his face darkened when he spotted Grace. “Is this going to be in tomorrow’s paper. young lady?”
By the time Grace registered it was her the asshole was talking to, Cowboy unwisely stepped between them. He was supposed to be here because of the horse, not her. She, however, was more on the ball.
“No need to be chivalrous twice, Mr. Bailey. The jacket was enough.” Then she zeroed in on Lyle. “A girl dies in your house, sorry, your son’s house, and all you can think about is whether it will make front page or not.”
“Someone has to.”
The asshole was revolting.
“Well if the media does find out, it won’t be my doing. I’m not going to exploit this woman’s death to sell papers. Besides, I’m sure you’d do your little magic trick and have the story pulled.”
Making an enemy out of Lyle Stanton wasn’t a good idea. The glare he shot her, even with her father standing right there, said she was treading on thin ice. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that Lyle Stanton had his slimy little hands wrapped around an editor’s throat, but he hadn’t heard a hint of doubt. Why? And from the way she was returning his steely stare, he had his answer. She had something on him. And damn it all to hell, she was baiting him.
“Chief, if the police are done with us, I’d be happy to escort Ms. Irvine back to her hotel,” Cowboy said.
“That’s very generous of you,” Irvine said, in a polite fuck you tone. “But I think I’ll take my daughter home with me.”
“Gee, thanks, but I need clothes. Let’s go, Mr. Bailey.”
“Grace—”
“A girl just died in my dress. Excuse me for wanting comfy jeans and a sweatshirt.” She walked to the front door and, just like that, left.
Cowboy, again, had no choice but to follow.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“What do you think?” Grace said, curious to see if Cowboy agreed with her.
They’d returned to the hotel, changed clothes, and gone down for food but the restaurant was closed so they had a drink instead. Cowboy had been on and off the phone with Monty with nothing new to report. Either her father was still at the ranch, which wasn’t likely, or nothing had been made of the Stanton’s housekeeper taking a deadly nosedive down a flight of stairs. Which was also unlikely.
“I think you’re right. She was pushed.”
They’d gone over the various scenarios in the car. In a hurry to get the dress back to Grace, Lily had tripped and fallen. But there was a mirror in the laundry room. She hadn’t needed to go upstairs. Her skin color indicated she’d been dead for at least ten minutes. Why had none of the many guests seen her at the bottom of the stairs? It was possible no one had passed through the foyer, but wouldn’t someone have had heard her fall? Had her neck been broken and her body thrown down to make it look like an accident? Mrs. Stanton was allegedly passed out. It didn’t mean she’d remained that way. Why hadn’t Lily given the notebook to the police? With all these questions, Grace and Cowboy had drawn their own conclusions. Lily knew something. And she was killed because of it.
How better to throw off suspicion than to kill her in a house full of people? Everyone had gone outside to sing “Happy Birthday” to Ella, presenting the killer with a perfect opportunity. Cowboy had told Grace what he’d first suspected, that she’d been the intended victim. But she’d argued against that. Two reporters dead, both working on the same story—no, no one was that stupid. He’d reluctantly agreed.
“Do you think she knew who killed Jessie?” Why the hell hadn’t she thought to question her earlier?
“Maybe. Maybe she’s responsible and Lyle was cleaning house. Who knows.”
He’d pulled his phone out earlier, and when the text came through, together they looked at it.
Guess what’s in that garage. A 1958 caddy registered to Lyle.
“Why lock it up?” Grace asked. How valuable was the stupid thing?
But that’s not all. FRONT END DAMAGE!
Grace and Cowboy exchanged looks.
“He’s hiding it,” they said in unison.
Could they prove it was the car that hit Jessie?
The bartender headed in their direction as Cowboy retrieved the phone.
“Two a.m., folks. I’m leaving for the night, but you’re welcome to stay and finish your drinks.”
Cowboy fished out a bill and passed it to him with a thank you.
“Cars like that need special mechanics and that kind of damage would arouse suspicion,” Cowboy said to Grace.
“So he’s tucked it away until enough time has passed for him to repair it.”
“I think so.” He helped her off the stool. “Question is—who was driving the car?”
“One guess,” she said, following him out of the bar.
“You think it was Mrs. Stanton?”
“Don’t you?”
“It’s possible. She went to rehab a day ahead of schedule. The day Jessie disappeared. Could be she was freaked out. Gone on a little ride and hit her coming home. That ravine wasn’t far from the ranch. But the senator said he hid all the keys to the cars. Considering the damage her drinking was doing to his career, I’m leaning toward believing him.”
“But this wasn’t his car. It’s Lyle’s. I hate to say this, but we need to tell my father. He’ll be able to get a court order to open that barn.”
Cowboy nodded. “Make the call. Look, are you still hungry? There’s an all-night pizza place down the street.”
“I’m starving.”
“Same old?”
She smiled, liking that he knew what she wanted on her pizza. “Same old.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
“Can you do it? I should call my dad. Get the warrant rolling.”
“I don’t know, Grace.”
“Oh come on. I’ve never been in any real danger and I’m not leaving the building.” She was convinced the whole bodyguard thing was a ruse for her father to get ICU’s help.
“Okay, but I won’t be long. I’ll have them deliver it.”
“I can stay thirty minutes by myself.”
“Maybe I don’t want to stay thirty minutes without you. I did that tonight and I didn’t like it.” He leaned in and kissed her. “I didn’t like it one bit.”
“You were afraid something had happened to me. That’s all.” Wasn’t it?
“I was afraid,” he admitted. “But that wasn’t all.” He kissed her again.
The kiss was nice, what he’d said nicer. And she realized she agreed with him. She too didn’t like the idea of being separated from him. And it made her… uncomfortable. “If you hurry we can have dessert before the pizza.”
“Damn,” he said, kissing her again. “I like the way you think.”
She headed back to their room, knowing she was risking her heart. In all likelihood, once this was over he would leave. A man who didn’t want people to know his name didn’t develop ties. He’d told Mrs. Danielle he had a sister. With all that had happened, she’d forgott
en to ask him about that. Why had he lied? He clearly had secrets. That should turn her off. Why didn’t it? Secrets destroyed people. Secrets had destroyed her parent’s marriage. Her mother might have claimed she left her father because she couldn’t handle his job, but she’d been the one having the affair. If Jessie had been open about knowing the Stantons, might things have turned out differently? Grace was positive that had she known the truth, Jessie wouldn’t have been in San Antonio writing a story she didn’t want to write.
So again, why did Cowboy’s secrets not bother her? The answer was there, waiting for her to acknowledge her foolishness. She was in love with the man. And it had nothing to do with great sex. And everything to do with the man himself. The real kicker was that he made her believe in what she’d thought was unattainable. Life didn’t gift you happy endings. So it was better to be prepared for the kick in the teeth because sooner or later that boot was headed for your face. With Cowboy the mouth guard was coming off. Would he be worth chancing it? The heart may want what it wanted, but she wanted a beach house on a South Carolina shore—didn’t mean she was going to get it.
She got off the elevator even more confused than when she’d gotten on. Perhaps it was better not to rationalize. Maybe the way to go was to simply let it happen and see where it took her. What the hell was she protecting herself from? Reaching the door, she pulled out her keycard and slid it into the lock. It wouldn’t open. She thought back and was unable to remember if she’d had it anywhere near her phone, causing it to deactivate. Damn. Now she had to go back to the lobby.
*
The pizza guy told him it would only take ten minutes and he should wait. He’d lied; the pizza had taken thirty-five minutes to cook. Thirty-five minutes of imagining Grace naked and in his bed. And as he pushed the elevator button, he was anxious to get upstairs and make it come true. He’d told himself he was not falling for her. But he was lying and he knew it.
His father had drilled him and his brothers on being respectful to women. And he had. He’d respected them enough to avoid loving any of them and been arrogant enough so they wouldn’t think they loved him. A time or two that tactic had failed. But sometimes women just wanted to save a man. It had taken some effort, but eventually he’d convince them he simply wasn’t worth saving. No matter how much he’d wanted someone in his life, he was careful not to fall for the women he dated. What he hadn’t expected was how simple it was to fall for Grace. Because none of them compared to Grace. The others had been easy to forget or move on from. His heart had remained firmly in his chest.
The elevator doors opened and he stepped inside, switching the hot pizza box to the other hand. What the hell was he doing? He’d seen the look on her face after he’d kissed her. He’d made her uncomfortable with all his talk of not liking being apart from her. But it had been true. He’d been scared to death when he hadn’t been able to find her, and when he had, the relief of knowing she was safe was like nothing he’d ever felt. It wasn’t just that he felt responsible for her. It was that he couldn’t imagine going back to the life he had without her. And in that, he was seriously fucked.
He got out on his floor, shaking his head at his own stupidity. Was he so desperate to not be alone that his mind had fabricated loving Grace? One thing was certain, she’d never forgive him if she found out he’d killed Edward. She would never understand why he and Jessie had concocted the story. She may have forgiven her best friend, but what was he to her? No, to Grace, he’d be another liar, someone who betrayed her trust by making her belief he was one of the good guys. He’d done that. In her books, there would be no going back because she was right, he wasn’t a good guy. He’d killed a man. Bastard or not, the man had died because of him.
He spotted a keycard on the floor by his hotel room door. He picked it with the intention of returning it to the front desk, then opened his door. “I hope you’re hungry,” he said, but didn’t mean for pizza. When he got no response, he checked the bedroom and then bathroom. “Grace?” She wasn’t here. He looked at the keycard in his hand and returned to the hall. Praying it didn’t work, he slid the card through the slider. The light went from red to green. This was Grace’s card.
He pulled out his cell and turned on the GPS he’d stuck in her purse. She’d left the hotel. On her own, or with help? “Fuck.” He was going to kill Stanton.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“What do you mean Ms. Irvine is missing?”
It hadn’t been that hard to get past Stanton’s security. Of course, Cowboy had been trained by Ryan and the senator’s crew hadn’t a chance against him. He’d woken the senator and dragged the man’s ass out of bed. Mrs. Stanton had returned to rehab, although he doubted she’d be there long. The police would be here shortly with their search warrant. On his way downstairs with Stanton, he opened the front door and told him not leave his sight.
On the phone Irvine informed Cowboy he hadn’t heard from his daughter, which meant she’d been taken shortly after Cowboy had left to get their dinner. Why the fuck had he done that? He’d failed. He hadn’t protected her. He should never have let her out of his sight. If he didn’t find her…. It would haunt him for the rest of his life.
“Answer the question.” He gave Stanton a none-too-friendly shove.
“What the hell is going on here?”
“Grace is missing and I can guarantee that either he, or you, has her.”
“Why would I…” He closed his eyes and drew a heavy sigh. “What did the son of a bitch do now?”
“Now? I told you. Grace is missing.”
“How do you know my father is involved?”
“Because I watched the hotel security tape,” he gritted out, ready to punch him in the face. “And the man who took her was at your fucking house tonight.”
“Which man?”
“Tall, bald, red beard.”
“That would be Dwayne. He works for Lyle.”
“No shit. Tell me something I don’t know. Have a seat.” He shoved Stanton down on the sofa. He’d learned Stanton’s daughter had taken her kids to a hotel. A dead body tended to make a party one big downer. “Where the fuck is Lyle?”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t want to hear I don’t knows.”
“I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. If you think my father took Ms. Irvine, you’re going to have to tell me why. Otherwise I’m of no help to you.”
Call it a gut instinct, but Cowboy believed the senator. He proceeded to tell him about the car stashed on his property, leaving out how he’d come to find out.
“That’s my father’s car.”
“Yes, I know.” Then he laid it out all on the line. Fingerprints in the car would tell them who’d been driving. If they’d thought hiding the classic vehicle would keep the cops away, he was counting on them not bothering to wipe the prints off. Then there were paint matches and glass found on the side of the road where Jessie’s car drove off the road.
The senator didn’t look surprised. For that alone, Cowboy should kick his ass.
“I should have known something was up. Those two haven’t been that cozy in years.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, a man apparently fed up with his wife and father.
“What do you mean?”
“Right after my son died, my wife and father had some kind of falling out. I’m not sure why. Neither would tell me. Then all of sudden he wants to help speed up the process to put her in rehab. He drove her there himself. I’ve been too tolerant of both of them for far too long. But what does this have to do with Ms. Irvine? Why would he want to hurt her?”
“Maybe for the same reason he murdered your housekeeper.”
“What are talking about? She fell down the stairs.”
“No,” Chief Irvine said as he entered the room. “We don’t believe she did.” He had four officers with him, one carrying lock cutters. The chief tossed the search warrant on the table.
Stanton took a cursory glance at it then
waved it off. “You won’t need it. You’re free to search wherever you like.”
“Good. Where’s Lily’s bedroom and where’s the barn?”
Senator Stanton told them, and the officers split up to perform the search.
Cowboy wondered how Irvine could remain so calm. His daughter was missing. He himself was ready to beat the shit out of Stanton. However, the closer Irvine got to Stanton the more Cowboy realized he’d misjudged the police chief. Stanton was on the floor with gun a pointed to his head faster than Cowboy would have thought the man could move.
“Where’s my daughter?”
“I don’t know.” Stanton for his part didn’t blink. Wise man.
The chief smiled a not-so-friendly warning. “The safety is off. I’ll ask you again, where is my daughter?”
“If I knew I would tell you. I don’t know what the hell Lyle is up to. None of this makes sense. Please, Chief, let me up and we can try to figure this out together.”
The chief, however, wasn’t in a cooperating mood and pushed his gun against the senator’s temple.
As much as he understood the man’s frustration, a dead man would be of no use and a dead man would make Grace a very unhappy woman. She wouldn’t want to see her father go to jail.
“Chief, I don’t think he’s lying. This is on Lyle.”
“What makes you so sure?” he said over his shoulder. “This is my baby girl we’re talking about.”
“I’ll take him out myself if he’s lying.”
Irvine let the man go, having understood his meaning. If Stanton had done anything to hurt Grace, he’d be dealt with ICU style.
He put a hand on the man’s shoulder, wanting to assure him they were in this together. “We need to go over the facts so we know where to start looking. Right now we’re blind.” And there were no words to describe how neutered he felt. But if working for Ryan had taught him one thing, it was not to do anything half-cocked.
“This is your fault.” Irvine pointed a finger in his face. “You were supposed to watch her.”
“I’m not giving you excuses, and after we find her, you can tear me a new one,”