A crooked grin peeked out at his cheeks. “Lindy Johnson actually has to think before she speaks. I wonder if that will stop you from putting your foot in your mouth so often.”
I laughed and stared at the ground as my leg bounced uncontrollably. “Probably not.”
The silence billowed up around us for a moment before Ryder added, “I’m glad you’re okay.”
I couldn’t hold still, not when he was right there and looked amazing. Moving to my feet, I started to pace the open space, staring out the window as I tried to formulate my thoughts.
“Lindy—”
My hand came up to stop him. “No, let me explain. I didn’t want to desert you. I got a call as I was leaving from the man who kidnapped my sister.” I took a breath and ordered the jumbled words in my mind. “He told me I had less than twelve hours to get to Montana if I wanted to find her.” Ryder started to speak, but I pressed on, not letting him say a single word. “She’s my sister. I had to go. It ripped me apart, but I had to go. I’m so sorry I abandoned you like that. I never thought it would end up like this. I never would have gone if I thought you’d…” I let it trail off because it didn’t matter. It had happened and it was my fault.
“Why didn’t you message me?” he questioned. “Or pick up one of my twenty phone calls?”
“Because you would have tried to talk me out of it, or you would have wanted to come along. I thought I’d have time to explain after everything and you’d understand. Looking back now, I should’ve answered. But, I knew I couldn’t keep you safe.” I paused in my endless pacing. “I couldn’t even keep myself safe.”
His mouth hung open, parted at the lips. Shock.
“I thought you ran away,” Ryder said. “I called Shane. He didn’t know where you were either. I thought you took off because you didn’t want to be with me.”
My mouth twisted under the pressure of impending tears. “No, I didn’t run away.”
“You were gone for weeks, Lindy.”
I turned into the window and set my hot palm against the cold glass. “I got shot. There were complications.”
“You were shot?” I heard him rise up from the couch and walk away from me. “You should have called me.”
“While I was unconscious?” I asked defensively.
“Before that.”
“You would have told me not to go.”
“And I would’ve been right. It sounds like you barely made it out with your life. It was reckless.”
I whipped around; a cold anger had replaced my sorrow. “I’m surprised you noticed since you took up with the waitress so quickly.”
“We haven’t been together that long. I waited for you, but guess what, when I asked Vanessa out, she showed up.”
My absence cut him, I could see it. “Well I hope you’re very happy together. I only came today so that you could have some closure.”
I started toward the staircase, but he caught my arm and held me back. “What we had, was it all in my mind?”
A knot jammed in my throat. I knew I could lie and tell him it was. I knew that it would grant me momentary relief from his haunted stare, but I couldn’t lie, not to him.
“It wasn’t in your mind. It was real.”
His grip released on my arm, but I didn’t leave. He asked, “Things are different now, aren’t they?”
My nod was reluctant. “They have to be.”
Ryder spun on his heel and moved to the kitchen. Plastic wrappers crinkled as he found his stash of sweets. “I swear you bring this out in me.”
A smile teased at my lips. “I don’t mean to.” It was one of his most endearing qualities, a sweet tooth that acted up when Ryder felt stressed.
He shoved the bag back in the drawer, a hard candy tucked into his cheek. “There’s something else we need to talk about. I have a case for you.”
My gaze followed him with curiosity to the far side of the room. He pulled a newspaper and some envelopes from a stack. “My mother lives in Idaho. I told you that before. She runs the family dude ranch there.” Splayed open, the newspaper covered the coffee table. I stepped closer to examine it. “They’ve been having a hard year, low tourism and whatever.” The paper crinkled as he ran his palm over the layers to smooth the wrinkles. “But then there was this.”
I read the title, Hiker Attacked by Mystery Creature. There was no picture to accompany the article, but the words explained that the hiker had been found with tiny cuts and punctures all over his body.
Ryder slipped a second paper free and smoothed it down. “And this one.”
Another article. Another death. Then a third and a fourth.
“Mom can’t explain it, and my Uncle Tate is afraid without the tourism, they’ll never make enough to stay open. He’s talking about selling, but she doesn’t want to.” Ryder laced his fingers and rested his forearms against his thighs. “They asked if I knew any private investigators.”
“Aren’t the cops looking into it?” I asked.
“You see these articles. They think it’s an animal.” His hands ran over his hair in frustration. “I know you can solve this.”
“What am I supposed to do? Poke around and hope I find information?”
Ryder stood to grab something from the counter. Before sitting back on the couch across from me, he slid it across the coffee table. I picked it up and examined it. The photo was of a blonde woman, later twenties, and gorgeous. A small nose gave her a childlike aura, but mysterious smile told me she knew how to find trouble.
“Another girlfriend?” I asked.
He didn’t appreciate my humor. “That’s my cousin, Cassidy Billings. She works at the dude ranch most summers to help pay for her education at Stanford. This summer, however, Cassidy is at rehab. She got addicted to some pretty heavy stuff and my Uncle James sent her away.” He tapped the picture. “You could be Cassidy. You could go undercover and be on the inside.”
What he was asking of me was impossible. “I can’t be this girl.” I looked again at the picture, the styled hair, the dark makeup around her eyes and perfectly polished smile. I was lucky to get out of my yoga pants on my best days. Though I knew how to use it, makeup was reserved for special occasions only.
“You can. Cass hasn’t been there in a couple years. Everyone would assume that you grew up some more.” Ryder bit down on his lip. “Please, Lindy. It shouldn’t be dangerous as long as you stick to the ranch. It’s recon, that’s all. You’ll talk to people, and gather information for the police. My mom needs the help. I would pay you. Whatever the cost, it’s yours.”
Money is typically the quickest way into my good graces, but there were too many holes in his logic. “Ryder, I have never seen a horse in real life. I’m sure your cousin has been riding since childhood.”
His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Cassidy is a cowgirl, sure. But I’ll teach you. With a crash course, you’ll be at least as good as every other buckle bunny that shows up for work.”
“Buckle bunny?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about it.” He pressed his palms together. “Please Lindy, do this for me.”
I stared at the picture of Cassidy Billings, then back into Ryder’s eyes. “If I do this, you have to forgive me. Totally and completely.”
His lips pinched shut as he considered it; there was still a lot of anger there.
“Fine.”
“And I’m going to charge you a lot. I have hospital bills to pay.”
“Whatever the cost.”
I glanced at the articles and back at the picture. “When do you want me to start?”
“Tomorrow? Can you come to the manor outside Mt. Vernon? The horses are kept there. You can stay with me while I teach you what you need to know.”
I pushed myself to my feet and looked out to the bay. I wondered how much of it was about his mother and how much of it was about getting me out of town.
“I’ll be there.”
He led the way down the staircase, and I followed. Once we were in
the studio again, I paused for a second. Ryder had done a drawing of me, and I wanted to see it again. I searched the space, but it was absent.
“Where is it?” I asked.
He didn’t need clarification; he knew what I was looking for. “I sold it. I told you I had an offer.”
It hit me harder than I wanted to admit. “Of course you did. That makes sense.”
He hesitated, as if he was unsure he wanted to let me in on his secret. “I’ve started this one though.” He moved to an easel and pulled the sheet away. It was charcoal on paper again, and it was my face, but at the eyes the charcoal pulled downward like a waterfall. It was as if I cried thick tears of chalky onyx. The space between my eyebrows crushed inward, as if in extreme pain or torment. The entire portrait melted under the weight of my sorrow. It was beautiful, but tragic.
He watched me as I stepped toward it. “What do you think?”
I couldn’t express what I thought about it. How could I explain that he had captured my soul to perfection?
“You’re very gifted Ryder,” I said after a moment, my voice soft so I wouldn’t alert the emotion choked in my throat. “I can see how sad she is. I can feel her regret.”
His pointed finger pulled my attention to the space around the eyes. “But look here, look at her determination. She’s still ready for anything.”
My breath caught on the tears that jammed in my throat. “I’m not sure I am,” I said. Not wanting him to see, I moved from the studio and out the front door.
Ryder jogged after me, calling my name, but I didn’t turn, at least not at first. Ten steps from my car, I whipped back and asked, “One question for you. Have you thought about it?” My hand shot out toward the bluff where we’d kissed.
Again, he didn’t need clarification. He knew what I was referring to. “I don’t think I should answer that, Lindy.”
I nodded and felt the sharp pinch of my suppressed emotion. “Fine, don’t. But promise me you won’t take her there. Let it stay ours. Promise me, Ryder. If it meant anything to you at all, promise me.”
He took a step forward, but paused before he could close the distance between us. “I promise,” the breathy whisper came.
Satisfied, I climbed in my car and drove away, only glancing back once through my tears to catch sight of him in the rearview mirror.
Chapter 5
I cried all the way home, and then into my pillow for a full hour. When the tears ran out, I let myself sleep. Nightmares plagued me, dirt caving in from the walls, my sister Jackie’s terrified screams from our childhood, and the stench of St. Anthony’s decayed body. At the peak of my terror, I jerked myself awake. I reached out across my bed in search of something—not something, someone. I looked for Ryder to comfort me, but he wasn’t there. He wouldn’t be there again.
I clicked on my bedside lamp and let the illumination chase the shadows from the room. “You have to be stronger than this,” I said aloud.
I flipped on my new phone. The techie at the store had miraculously salvaged the remnants of my photo file from my previous device. It didn’t take me long to locate the photo of Ryder and me from the night we’d met. I’d used Ryder as a cover to get the evidence I needed. Out of the seven pictures on my phone from that night, one was authentic, a single moment in time that showed how I’d given in to his charm.
As I stared at the picture, I thought back to the memories we shared, our dance at the masquerade, the moment that he’d pulled me from the clutches of death in the casket, the bluff, and our near death experience at the hands of a sociopath. One by one I boxed the memories up in my mind and filed them away. One by one, I let go of him until I had nothing left but the authentic picture. I allowed a couple tears to fall and kissed the screen, even if it was juvenile.
“I can’t go on like this,” I said to his picture. “It’s better this way.”
With a steady finger, I pressed the tiny trash can in the bottom corner and Ryder vanished.
I clicked off my light and tried to sleep.
♦ ♦ ♦
Ryder texted me the address for the manor long before I ever woke up. I did a morning round of yoga, showered, packed a suitcase for my time away, and locked my house up tight with no inclination of when I’d return again.
It was over an hour to the manor. As it rose up in front of me, complete with towering wrought iron gates, I wondered for the first time how much money he’d inherited. The gates parted before I could buzz the intercom and it only added to my apprehension. I drove down the winding driveway and parked near Ryder’s old SUV. At least that hadn’t changed. Stepping out from my car, I shielded my eyes from the sun and searched for any sign of life.
“Back here, Huckleberry.” Ryder’s voice curled around the side of the house as he kept to the path and moved toward me.
Despite the lavishness of his surroundings, he was still Ryder, clad in a paint-flecked flannel shirt and worn blue jeans.
“You weren’t kidding when you said it was huge.”
There was no mistaking the loathing in his eye as he glanced at the manor. “Twenty-five bedrooms, or so I’m told.” Ryder pulled my suitcase from the trunk and motioned with his head toward the house. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”
Cobblestone and ivy waged a territory war over the exterior of the house, thick in some places, sparse in others, but beautiful in the contrast. Beyond the front door, gray slate stretched through the entryway and out in all directions like paths in a forest.
“Mr. Harrison?” I heard the woman’s voice as she hurried from the hall.
Ryder bristled at the sound of his father’s last name. “Louise, it’s Billings. We’ve talked about this.”
Her dusty blonde bob held rigid as she nodded her assent. She wore a simple gray uniform, a pencil skirt with a white blouse and dark gray apron. My eyes went to the phone which she extended toward Ryder. “Miss Vanessa for you.”
He cast a sidelong glance at me, jaw slack, pupils dilated and uttered a muddle mess of stumbling words before he said, “Vanessa will do, Louise.” He took the phone, placed his hand over the receiver and said, “Will you show Miss Johnson to her room?”
The distinction wasn’t lost on me. Vanessa got her first name, and I was Miss Johnson. We hadn’t dated and I was treated like the ex-girlfriend.
His overheard conversation followed me as I trailed Louise up the staircase with my bag in hand, “Yeah I miss you too. When will you be back?”
Since I’d compartmentalized my romantic feelings for Ryder, all that was left was frustration and anger. But, he was my employer and he seemed eager to keep that clear.
“You’re right up here on the left,” Louise instructed me. “This used to be Isabelle’s room, Mr. Billing’s mother.”
“She had her own bedroom?”
Louise pushed open the door and held it for me. “It was easier that way, at least before she left. Mr. Harrison insisted that she have her own space since she was prone to fits of rage. He spared no expense to give her a sanctuary that would calm her wild heart.”
Situated as part of the manor’s gable, the rounded room appeared as big as my entire cottage. The gabled panoramic windows gave a clean natural light to the space. Grays and pale blues dappled and lined every textile, while dark woods from the furniture grounded the room.
“Mr. Harrison also kept his office only a couple rooms over so that he would be near enough to hear if she had one of her episodes.” Louise said.
Her words didn’t describe the man I’d met before his death. Charles Harrison had been a part of a secret society that ended life early for those in terminal situations. In his later years he’d gotten wrapped up in a plot to test drugs on healthy patients so that the society could end life more effectively. The man Louise described sounded like a concerned husband.
“Where is Ryder’s room?” I asked. When she shot me a disapproving glare, I clarified, “In case I need him to answer a question.”
“Mr. Harri- Bil
lings’ room is on the opposite side of the manor. His parents preferred their privacy. If you need him, I suggest you ask one of the staff.”
Her words made it sound as though there were several to choose from. What was this place?
“Thank you, you’ve been very helpful.”
The short blonde woman turned on a heel and exited, leaving me to wonder what I had gotten myself into.
My phone buzzed from the bed where I’d tossed it. Flipping it over, I saw a message from Ryder.
“Meet me downstairs in five minutes.”
I frowned at his curt words and glanced to the gabled window. The overstuffed antique couches begged me to stretch out and rest. I sank into the loveseat expecting a cushion of comfort. Instead, I felt a thick lump beneath the padding. Kneeling in front of the loveseat, I slipped my hand between the layers. My fingers curled around something cold. I knew what it was before I pulled it free. In disbelief, I wondered why Ryder’s mother needed a Smith and Wesson .38 special under a loveseat cushion.
♦ ♦ ♦
Ryder stood by the front door and though he didn’t pace the floor, I could tell his mind was racing.
“Are you ready?” he asked as I stepped down.
Much of my strength had returned and I was grateful. I nodded to avoid speaking and followed him out of the house. He explained the layout of the grounds as we walked, tennis courts to the north, swimming pool thirty meters off of that. There was an atrium in the garden to the south, near the staff housing, but the stables were directly behind the manor.
“You grew up here?” I asked him. My expectations had been nowhere near the reality of his actual wealth.
“Yes.” It wasn’t a word, but instead a growl that showed his contempt for the whole lot of it.
The stables were no less impressive, the newest building by far on the property, and three times the size of my rental. The roof boasted sky lights across the apex so that light could filter down into the space below. Upon entering, I counted eighteen stall doors, though only seven or eight heads popped out to greet us. Ryder stepped toward a muscular, brown horse and rubbed its neck.
Saddles & Sabotage Page 4