Dark Horse & the Mystery Man of Whitehorse

by B. J Daniels

  Kidnappings usually were about money. But as far as Nikki knew, the ransom money had never been spent. Because the kidnappers had accidentally killed the twins and had gotten too scared? She thought of the broken rung halfway down the ladder. Had the kidnapper fallen? Had he dropped one of the babies or both of them?

  For all the research she’d done, Nikki had too many questions still. All her instincts, though, told her that the answers were here in this house. Someone in this house knew at least a piece of the truth. Once she had all those pieces...

  “Are you coming?” Kitten demanded from down the hall.

  Nikki sighed and turned to follow the teen. She couldn’t help looking into each room they passed, feeling a tingle of excitement. The house was beautifully decorated. Had that been Marianne’s doing? Or the new Mrs. McGraw?

  Kitten had stopped at the end of the hall. Nikki knew the layout of the house. Downstairs was the large living room, Travers’s office, the master bedroom and a huge farm kitchen and dining room.

  Upstairs at the back part of the house were the bedrooms for the children and nanny. They were arranged down a long hallway that ran north to south, with the nanny’s larger room and the playroom at the south end.

  When Nikki joined Kitten, she turned north down a short hallway. Nikki recalled that the twins’ nursery had been on the south wing—next to Patricia’s. She glanced in that direction. The hallway was dark. A heavy silence seemed to hunker in its shadowy depths.

  “This way,” Kitten said, and walked to the end of the hall, where she opened a door into a room decorated in shades of blue. “This was Cull’s room growing up.” She smiled at Nikki’s surprise.

  She shot Kitten a look. “This is the room I’m staying in?” She’d distinctly heard Travers tell her the guest room.

  The teen gave her an innocent smile. “You want to be in this wing, right? Otherwise, they’re going to stick you away somewhere since no one stays on these wings anymore.”

  Nikki looked out the window and saw the addition to the house that had been added after the kidnapping so Travers would be closer to his remaining children. Past it, she saw what appeared to be a pool and pool house.

  While what the girl said made sense, Nikki knew what Kitten was up to. The one person who would be most upset about her staying in his room would be Cull. But she decided she would play along and deal with Cull when the time came.

  “It’s a lovely room.” She glanced around, chilled a little at the thought that he hadn’t stayed in this room since the kidnapping. This entire wing had been left exactly as it had been. What had he heard that night? Or was it true that he, like the others, had slept right through the kidnapping?

  She realized she was rubbing her bare arms as if to warm them. It wasn’t cold in the room. On the contrary, the air felt heavy. It was being in Cull’s childhood room, being in this house, being this close to the room where the twins had been taken from, she told herself.

  “Creepy, huh,” Kitten said, no doubt seeing her reaction. Kitten didn’t miss much.

  “Yes,” Nikki agreed. Something horrible had happened in this house. A kidnapping that had probably led to the murder of two innocent babies. And Nate Corwin had been in this house. Possibly climbed the same stairs she had, maybe even walked down this very hallway. What if her grandfather was right? What if she found out that her father had been part of the kidnapping? Part of something even worse?

  She thought of Marianne McGraw’s snow-white hair and blank, empty eyes, and shuddered inwardly.

  Kitten moved to the window and pulled back the drapes, blinding her for a moment. Past the teen, Nikki could see the barn and corrals where her father had worked. Beyond them was the bunkhouse where he’d lived. She’d seen the layout of the ranch from an aerial photo that had been shot after the kidnapping. Since then, some cabins had been added at the back of the property. Was that where Travers’s sons lived?

  Turning, she watched Kitten pick up a toy cowboy on a plastic horse from a shelf near the bed. “No one comes up here but Tilly to clean. So,” she said as she put the horse back on the shelf and met Nikki’s gaze, “you’ll have it all to yourself. Good luck. Tilly swears she’s seen ghosts up here and heard babies crying.”

  Kitten was trying to scare her again, not realizing that what scared her most would be the truth about that night.

  “Thank you for showing me to the room, Kitten.”

  “It’s Katherine. Only my family calls me Kitten.”

  “Duly noted.” Her head throbbed. She couldn’t wait for this young woman to leave. “I might lie down for a while before dinner.”

  “Yes, dinner,” Kitten said, and smiled. “All the family and my father’s attorney will be there. I can’t wait for everyone to meet you.”

  * * *

  AS HE RETURNED from town with Nikki’s rental car, Cull heard Kitten’s and her mother’s raised voices. He quickly stepped into the office, hoping to find his father and avoid the latest upset.

  The room was empty. A small fire burned in the fireplace and the latest edition of the Milk River Courier was spread on his father’s desk. He stepped closer. One glance at the headline about the kidnapping and he let out a curse. Getting rid of the other newspaper before the cook brought it into the house hadn’t done any good. Wadding up this newspaper, he angrily tossed it into the fire as his father came into the room.

  Travers spotted the burning newspaper and gave Cull a sympathetic shake of his head. “I appreciate you trying to spare me, but I’ve already read it.” He joined him in front of the fire and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Even if I hadn’t, you can’t burn every newspaper in town.”

  “I hate for you to have to go through this again,” Cull said.

  His father smiled wearily. “I was the one who contacted the newspaper, son. Anyway, it isn’t something I can ever forget.”

  “We should talk about this woman—”

  “Nikki St. James. Thank you for bringing her out to the ranch. You and Ledger, I understand, went in and brought back her car. Please see that her luggage is taken upstairs.”

  “I intend to take it up myself,” Cull said. “But I have to ask you. Are you sure about this?” He’d gotten on his phone after Ledger had dropped him off and done some research on the woman. He’d hoped to find something that would dissuade his father from going through with this.

  Unfortunately, what he found was a professional website, heartwarming reviews and a pretty astounding track record for unearthing new information on true crimes. He could see how his father might have been impressed that she wanted to do a book on the kidnapping.

  Travers McGraw didn’t answer right away. He lowered himself into his chair before meeting Cull’s gaze. “It’s been twenty-five years. Your stepmother is right about one thing—I can’t keep doing this to myself or to all of you. This is it, Cull. If nothing comes of this book, then I’m done.”

  Cull let out a sigh of relief. “I know how much this means to you, but I’m glad to hear you feel that way. I’m worried it’s going to kill you otherwise.”

  His father nodded. “So please, help this woman with anything she needs and ask your brothers to do the same. I’ll appeal to Patty and Kitten, though I don’t hold out much hope for their cooperation.” His smile was sad. “I can’t help but hope.”

  Cull wanted to change his father’s mind, to argue that he didn’t know anything about this woman and that bringing her into the house could lead to disastrous consequences.

  He put a hand on his father’s shoulder and quickly swallowed back the words, surprised how thin the shoulder felt, how weak his father looked. “I best get her luggage to her.”

  As he left his father’s office, his stepmother came flying in, slamming the door behind her. Cull picked up Nikki St. James’s designer suitcase and, taking the stairs three at a time,
was at the top when he heard his stepsister call to him from the ground floor below.

  “I put her in your old room,” Kitten said. He stopped, nearly losing his balance as he turned to look back at her. She stood smiling that impish smile at him.

  “Why would you put her in my old room?” he demanded through gritted teeth.

  “Because that’s the one that Tilly says is haunted the worst.” She laughed and took off out the front door.

  He almost forgot himself. That girl had needed a good tanning for years. Although he doubted it would do any good. She was just like her mother, spoiled and impossible, he thought as he heard the raised voices coming from the office. Maybe it wasn’t his father’s loss that was killing him. Maybe it was Patricia and her...daughter.

  He often wondered why his father put up with the two of them. Travers had raised Kitten as his own. According to the scuttlebutt in town, she was his own. The story was that they’d been lovers all along and that—on top of the kidnapping of her babies—their affair pushed Marianne McGraw over the edge.

  For the story to be true, then Patty and his father had renewed their relationship in secret. He and Ledger would have been in high school when Kitten was conceived.

  Cull shook his head as he topped the stairs. He didn’t have time to speculate on the past. Right now, he was headed for his childhood bedroom in the wing of the house that he hadn’t entered in years.

  After the kidnapping, he and his brother had been moved to other rooms, closer to his parents. That was back before they took his mother away one day, never to return.

  As he walked down the hallway, he couldn’t help being furious with Nikki St. James for bringing up bad memories already—and she hadn’t even begun writing the darned book.

  Who knew what she might discover?

  That thought turned his blood to slush. He’d buried so many memories of that night and the days after. And now she would be poking around, forcing him to relive them. Worse, reminding him of the secret he’d sworn he’d keep until his dying day.

  * * *

  NIKKI FRESHENED UP, waiting to make sure that Kitten had left. Cull’s childhood bedroom was all boy, from the blue decor to the many male toys. He’d just turned seven at the time of the kidnapping, so he must not have spent much time in this beautifully decorated room before this wing was abandoned. Which explained why the room looked as if a little boy might return at any moment.

  Hoping the coast was clear, she went to the door, opened it and peered out into the hallway. It was empty. Hearing nothing, she stepped out, easing the door closed behind her, and started down the hall. All of the doors to the rooms were closed.

  Where the other hallway she and Kitten had come down intersected, she stopped and peered around the corner. Seeing no one, she headed for the south wing of the sprawling house. This was where the nursery was located, along with a playroom and nanny quarters. This was where Patty Owens had lived before the kidnapping.

  The twins’ bedroom room was at the end of the hallway across from the nanny’s room next to a back stairway.

  As Nikki neared the end of the hall, she slowed and glanced over her shoulder. That same uneasy feeling she’d felt earlier in Cull’s former room now washed over her. While immaculately clean and cared for, the wing still had an abandoned feel. No wonder the housekeeper, Tilly, thought she felt ghosts up here. That is, if Kitten hadn’t just been trying to scare Nikki with the story.

  Though it wasn’t necessary, she found herself tiptoeing the rest of the way. The door to the twins’ room was closed. She took hold of the doorknob and jerked her hand back as if she’d been burned. It wasn’t until she touched it again that she realized it wasn’t hot—it was ice-cold. The heat must be turned off in this wing.

  She turned the knob.

  Chapter Seven

  AS THE DOOR swung into the former nursery, Nikki was hit with a draft of freezing cold air. Movement. Her heart slammed against her ribs. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. A curtain billowed in the wind. It snapped, then fell silent for a moment before another gust raised it like a ghost coming through the window.

  She let her heart rate drop back to normal before she stepped into the room. The wall by the window was painted in alternating blue-and-pink stripes. Someone had started a pastoral mural on the wall opposite the cribs. It had faded. This room, like Cull’s, gave her a feeling of being transported back to another more innocent time.

  Two cribs were positioned side by side on the opposite wall. She could see the horse patterns on the matching mattress sets. One with a blue background, the other pink. Nikki moved closer, stopping when she saw the tiny covers pulled back. Was that how the kidnapper had left them?

  She thought she caught the scent of baby powder, a sick sweetness that turned her stomach. She fought her revulsion and moved to the window, careful not to touch anything. The room still felt like a crime scene.

  At the window, she saw the faint dark residue where fingerprints had been lifted off the windowsill and frame. Nikki wondered if the window had been left open by the housekeeper or if the kidnapper had left it like this.

  The breeze stirred the cute pink-and-blue curtains and the white sheers under them. On closer inspection she saw that the fabric had faded pink-and-blue prints of tiny ducks. Something about that brought a lump to her throat.

  As often as she’d thought of the twins since she’d found the newspaper clippings and discovered her father’s involvement with the McGraws, this was the first time she’d felt the full weight of what had happened here.

  The cold draft of air seemed to move through the room. She shivered as it curled around her neck. She couldn’t imagine anything worse than losing a child—let alone two.

  She rubbed her bare arms to chase away the chill as she considered the nursery. Whoever had prepared this room for the twins must have been excited for their arrival.

  Had it been their mother, Marianne? Or had they paid someone to get it ready? Nanny Patty Owens had been here several weeks before the twins were born. Nikki couldn’t imagine the woman she’d met downstairs taking such pains to prepare for another woman’s infants. But maybe Patty had been as unthreatening as she’d appeared back then.

  Nikki moved closer so she could look out the window to the ground below. The FBI had found boot prints in the soft earth where a ladder had been placed against the side of the house—just like in the Lindbergh case.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  Nikki jumped, startled by the low husky male voice directly behind her. She hadn’t heard anyone come down the hall, let alone enter the room. She suspected the tall, broad-shouldered, slim-hipped cowboy now standing only inches away had planned it that way as she met Cull’s blue-eyed glare with one of her own.

  “Your father gave me the run of the house, including this room,” she said defiantly. He’d scared her and she could tell he was glad of it. She’d scared him earlier. Did he think that made them even?

  He looked toward the open window. “There’s nothing here to find.”

  “Thank you, but I’ll be the judge of that.”

  His hair was long and dark, in stark contrast to the pale blue of his eyes. The resemblance between the McGraw men made her think of Kitten, with her long dark hair and intense blue eyes. She could have been a McGraw.

  “Is the window always left open like that?” she asked, looking past him. She could see part of the horse barn where her father had worked as the window parted the curtains.

  “Tilly closes it, but when my father comes up, especially this time of year, he opens it so it’s as it was that night when the twins were found missing.” His gaze, which had been on the window for a moment, moved to hers. There was a primal maleness to Cull that resonated in those eyes. It was as if he could see his effect on her. That, too, seemed to pl
ease him.

  “You really have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into,” he said with a shake of his head.

  “I’ve done other books that involved murders and—”

  His laugh cut her off. “You feel it, don’t you?” She started to ask what he was talking about, but he didn’t give her a chance. “This house, this...” He waved his arms, his gaze boring into hers. “Evil that an open window will never blow from this house.”

  “If you’re going to tell me about the ghosts—”

  “That Tilly has seen?” He smiled as he shook his head. “No, I’m talking about a place where something horrible has happened. The evil stays. Like a residue. Like a bad feeling. Like part of the furnishings. You can never get rid of it.”

  “So why do you stay here?”

  “Because raising horses is in my blood. But I don’t live in the house. I have a cabin on the ranch. You couldn’t get me to spend a night on this wing or even under this roof. You don’t believe in ghosts? You will.”

  She thought of how Travers McGraw looked ghostlike. He didn’t appear to have fared much better than his former wife. He was thin to the point of gaunt, his face ashen, making her fear he hadn’t been well. More than ever, she thought that was why he’d allowed her the opportunity to write the book on the kidnapping.

  “What is wrong with your father?”

  The abrupt change of subject caught Cull off guard for a moment. “What do you think? All this has taken a toll on him.”

  “Has he seen a doctor?”

  “You seriously can’t see what has caused his decline?”

  “It has to be more than the kidnapping. He really doesn’t look well.”

  Cull sighed. “I’ve been trying to get him to see a doctor. He’s stubborn.”

  “Like his son.”

  He shot her a warning look. “Let’s say you are as good as your book publicist claims. What you uncover about the case could kill him.”