by Brenda Mott
“No, thanks. You’ve done enough.”
“Okay. See you in a bit.”
When he walked outside, the dogs circled and nipped at his heels. “Hey, knock it off!” He kept an eye on them over his shoulder as they followed him to the Blazer, barking once he was inside.
It was as though they were telling him what he already knew. He didn’t belong here with Miranda.
And he’d do well to remember that.
MIRANDA TRAILERED RANGER, her black gelding, over to the stables. Searchers were already gathering, along with a couple of reporters from the local press. Lucas had brought his own horse, too, a stocky buckskin. Within a short time, Miranda had Ranger saddled, ready to ride. A silver SUV pulled up by the barn, and a tall man wearing a ball cap—Kyle Miller—unloaded a black German shepherd from the back. Miranda had expected a bloodhound. Then again, she’d seen other breeds used for tracking. She watched as Kyle spoke to Lucas, then the two came toward her and Paige.
“Kyle,” Miranda said. “I haven’t seen you since ninth grade. I almost didn’t recognize you with the mustache and all.” He sported a neatly trimmed, goatee-style beard.
“I’ve been hearing that ever since I moved back to Montana,” he said, his dark eyes taking her in.
“Thank you for coming, Kyle,” Paige said.
“I’m happy to help. I’m just sorry I couldn’t get out here yesterday. We were conducting a search for a lost child over in Blue Ridge Park. Found him, safe and sound.” Kyle beamed proudly at the big shepherd. “If your daughter is out there, Blackhawk will find her.”
“I sure hope so.”
“Do you still ride?” Miranda asked. “Will your dog follow a horse?”
“I ride, and Blackhawk will stick with me. But to work the scent, I need to be on foot.”
“That’s fine, but it’s a ways out to the place where Shannon’s trail disappeared. It’ll be faster to get there on horseback.”
“That’ll do. We can work the trail from there. I’ll need an item of Shannon’s clothing, preferably something she’s recently worn.”
“I already have it,” Paige said. She handed over a paper bag. “It’s one of her T-shirts.”
“Perfect.”
“Okay,” Miranda said. “Let’s go.”
Kyle mounted up on one of the dude horses, and the four of them headed out the east fork, while Garrett and Deputy Mac Frazier stayed behind to supervise a search grid. In spite of the mild early morning temperature, Miranda shivered as they neared the rock where they’d found Shannon’s blood.
Kyle climbed off his horse and traded Blackhawk’s collar for a leash and harness. The dog grew excited. It was time to work. Kyle took Shannon’s T-shirt and let the animal sniff it, giving him encouragement and the command “Go find.”
Miranda watched, fascinated, as the shepherd sniffed the rock, then lowered his head to investigate the patch of blood, which had dried to a dark brown. He circled and immediately picked up a scent. He set off, Kyle clutching the long lead, the pair climbing the steep hillside in a direction Miranda hadn’t taken yesterday. One too steep for the horses to go.
Dismounting, she handed her reins to her mother. “Will you wait here? Hold Ranger for me, Mom?”
Paige nodded. Her anxious expression told Miranda she was afraid of what the dog might find. Which was precisely why Miranda wanted to go without her.
Lucas left the buckskin’s reins dangling. “He won’t go anywhere as long as the other horses stay put, Paige. You’ll be all right by yourself?” He gave Miranda a pointed look.
“I’m going,” she reiterated.
“All right.”
“It’s okay—go,” Paige said. But she looked scared, and the bags beneath her eyes told Miranda she’d cried herself to sleep last night. Paige rarely cried.
Determined to find her sister, one way or another, Miranda climbed.
“We need to keep back out of Kyle’s way,” Lucas said.
“I understand.”
“Now you can see what I was trying to tell you yesterday,” he said. “That Shannon could’ve gone in any direction.”
Miranda’s face warmed with resentment. “I realize that. But I told you. I had to try to find her.”
“We will.”
They continued to climb, the going impossibly steep for a long stretch, the ground too hard-packed and rocky to see footprints. Then Blackhawk and Kyle angled off on a game trail that took a less perilous route. They wound through brush and rock, steadily climbing before dropping down again toward a gully.
“I hope this dog knows what he’s doing,” Miranda muttered. Below, Paige and the horses had become dots in the distance, then disappeared.
“He’s the best,” Lucas said. He paused to catch his breath, forcing Miranda to halt as well, then continued on.
Twenty minutes later, they heard the sound of moving water. Up ahead a wide stream pooled into a small lake. If Shannon had somehow managed to cross the water, would Blackhawk be able to pick up her trail on the other side? The stream definitely wasn’t small enough to jump. So how would Shannon have crossed it, if she were injured?
Unless she hadn’t been on her own.
Miranda swallowed hard, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Briefly, she squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to calm down.
The brush grew thicker, and Blackhawk and Kyle disappeared into the midst of it. Lucas hurried to catch up, Miranda on his heels. A staccato bark, followed by a triumphant shout, reached their ears as they burst from the cover and came out on the stream bank.
Kyle stooped to praise and pet his dog, rewarding him with a ball on a rope. “Good boy, Blackhawk! Atta boy.”
“What?” Miranda asked. “What did he find?” She didn’t see anything on the rocky creek bed. Then Kyle pointed out a bit of color at the edge of the water.
“There,” he said.
She gasped. A faded, teal-blue scrunchie. The one Shannon had used to pull her hair into a ponytail yesterday before she rode away.
“That’s Shannon’s,” Miranda said, bending to reach for it.
“Don’t touch it,” Lucas said sharply. From his shirt pocket, he took out a digital camera and began to snap pictures, then extracted a plastic evidence bag from his denim jacket. Using a pen, he lifted the scrunchie and put it in the bag.
“She was here,” Miranda said unnecessarily.
“She must’ve crossed the water,” Lucas said, staring at the rapidly flowing stream. “Can you pick up her trail on the other side, Kyle?”
“I can sure try.” Kyle studied the area, as did Lucas and Miranda.
“We need to find a better place to cross,” Lucas said. “The water’s too fast here.” He frowned. “Are you sure the trail stops dead right here?”
Kyle nodded. “Blackhawk would’ve gone on if it followed the bank.”
“All right, then,” Lucas said, his jaw set. “We’ll just find a place to cross. But we need to mark this area.” He took off his denim jacket, unloaded the pockets and tied it to a sapling near the water’s edge. Then he gathered some rocks, with Miranda’s and Kyle’s help, and at the base of the tree made a pile that could be seen for some distance. “That ought to do.” He pocketed the evidence bag. “Let’s go.”
The three of them set out along the creek bank, picking their way through brush and rock. It was a good while before they found a possible place to cross, where the water was shallow and enough exposed rock and gravel provided a makeshift footbridge to the other side. Blackhawk splashed on in, not seeming to mind getting wet, and Miranda studied the dog to see if he picked up anything. Had Shannon found this crossing and used it? Or had she gone through the water at another spot?
Trying not to despair at the enormity of the task ahead, Miranda watched Kyle once again take Shannon’s T-shirt from the bag Paige had given him, and wave it under Blackhawk’s nose. The shepherd sniffed it and then, at Kyle’s instruction, began searching the ground.
They hea
ded back the direction they’d come, keeping an eye out for the sapling Lucas had marked with his jacket. If Shannon had emerged from the stream at any point near where she’d dropped her hair tie, they ought to be able to find her trail. But though Kyle worked Blackhawk up one side and down the other, the shepherd came up empty.
“Why the hell isn’t he finding her scent?” Miranda closed her eyes. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.”
“Understandable,” Kyle said.
“I appreciate your help,” Miranda added. She knew Kyle would do anything in his power to find her sister.
He halted, frowning. “Maybe we ought to search around the lake.
“Keep your eye out for tracks,” Lucas said unnecessarily as they headed downstream. But though they walked the entire perimeter of the lake, they didn’t see any human footprints. And Blackhawk still picked up nothing.
After an hour, they stopped to rest.
Kyle looked as frustrated as Miranda felt. “I’m sorry, Miranda,” he said. “I don’t understand this. Unless your sister came out of the water at a place we haven’t covered yet.”
“I don’t see how that could be,” Lucas said, taking off his hat to wipe sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm. “We’ve gone about as far in both directions as a person could expect to walk.”
Miranda dropped onto a fallen log, feeling more helpless than she ever had in her life. She folded her arms to keep from shaking. “She’d never wander off this far willingly. My God, she could be in the hands of a rapist…a killer.” Miranda met Lucas’s gaze. “I know Lonnie Masterson’s in jail, but what about a copycat…?” She couldn’t bring herself to say it.
Copycat killer.
Lucas wrapped one arm around her shoulders. “Hey. Calm down, Miranda. This is a positive lead. We found her hair tie, and we’re going to find her.”
“Positive?” She pulled away from him. “How can you say that? The only thing I’m positive about is that some maniac has kidnapped my sister.” Unable to stop the tears, she angrily wiped them away. “Damn it! Why? Why Shannon? Lucas, what has happened to my sister?”
“I don’t know,” he said darkly. “But I’m damn sure going to find out. Let’s head back to the horses.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“DID YOU FIND ANYTHING, Sheriff Blaylock?”
“Mrs. Ward, is it true there were blood and claw marks on your daughter’s horse?”
“Back off!” Miranda thumped her heels against Ranger’s sides, plowing through the group of reporters circling her mom like a pack of wolves. Cameramen and journalists scattered.
“Hey, that’s expensive equipment, lady!” A tall, skinny guy reached for his zoom lens, which had fallen in the dirt.
“And this is private property.” Miranda stared him down.
“Clear out,” Lucas said above the hubbub of the crowd.
Miranda had expected the press, but she’d never thought they’d come en masse. News trucks and cars from every television and radio station within a hundred-mile radius lined the ranch’s driveway. Thankfully, Lucas and his deputies somehow got them all to leave.
“Chet,” Paige said, “Go down and close the gate, will you please?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The lanky cowboy turned his horse and trotted off.
A camera flash went off in Miranda’s face just as she swung down from the saddle. She managed to get her foot out of the stirrup before stumbling into Lucas.
Where in thunder had it come from?
“I thought you were told to leave,” the sheriff growled. He took a menacing step toward the reporter, his horse’s reins clutched in one hand, the other fisted at his side. “Get the hell away from that tree and out of here, or so help me God I’ll throw you in jail for trespassing!”
Miranda barely heard him. Spots from the camera’s flash danced across her vision. It took a half minute to realize that wasn’t the cause of her nauseating dizziness. It was the memory of another camera. Another newspaper reporter.
Smile now, lovebirds. That’s it. Look like you’re already on your honeymoon. Perfect…
The woman who wrote the local wedding and engagement column for the Sage Bend News had had Miranda and Lucas pose for several shots to make sure she had a good one. The photo appeared the following day on page three, Lucas looking sexy in his white hat and Western suit as he smiled for the camera; Miranda, clearly happy, in a melon-colored dress Shannon had helped her pick out. She’d felt like the luckiest woman on earth as she’d leaned into Lucas, his arm wrapped protectively—lovingly—around her waist, her hand on his as though she’d never let go….
Miranda took a deep breath, and her queasiness gradually faded. At the sound of tires crunching over gravel, she looked down the driveway to see an old, beat-up pickup truck heading their way.
“Lucas, isn’t that your sister-in-law?” Paige asked.
“Yep.” Lucas stood waiting beside Miranda as Dena Blaylock got out of her truck, a large box cradled in her arms.
Lucas passed his reins to Miranda and moved to help as Dena extended her offering. The sleeve of the other woman’s shirt rode up an inch or so, and Miranda saw a greenish-yellow, days-old bruise on her wrist.
“Hi, Miranda,” Dena said, tugging at her sleeve. “Chet let me through the gate, Paige. I hope you don’t mind me dropping by. I heard about Shannon, and I wanted to help search, but my gelding’s lame.” She indicated what she’d brought. “I thought y’all could use some comfort food to tide you over for a couple of days, so you won’t have to worry about cooking.”
“That was thoughtful,” Paige said, taking it from Lucas. “Thank you, Dena.”
“There’s a couple of casseroles, and I made some stew…and some beans and ham hock in freezer bags. You can just thaw and heat them whenever you need to.”
“What did you do to your arm, Dena?” Miranda asked, even though it was none of her business. She already knew the answer anyway. But with Shannon missing—possibly the victim of violence—her tolerance was flat zero.
Dena lowered her gaze and tugged at her sleeve again. “I sprained it. Fell off a haystack unloading some bales into the loft.” She shrugged. “I’ve always been clumsy.”
“Especially since you married my brother,” Lucas said, clenching his jaw.
Dena and Clint had been married for a while…five years? Miranda thought that was about right. According to gossip, Clint had started roughing Dena up not long after their honeymoon, and had since progressed to knocking the crap out of her whenever he felt like it, which was most of the time. They had two kids, and a reputation for fighting like a couple of bobcats in a burlap bag.
Miranda was surprised they hadn’t killed one another by now. She felt sorry for their children.
Dena faced her. “I just wanted to come out and tell you how sorry I am to hear about your sister.”
“Thank you,” Miranda said, wishing Dena would take her kids and go to a battered women’s shelter.
Lucas’s steely expression let Miranda know Dena wasn’t fooling him, either. “Tell Clint I’ll stop by and say howdy as soon as I brush my horse down.”
Dena went white. “There’s no need, Lucas. You’ve got your hands full here.”
He merely grunted—a familiar sound Miranda knew meant the subject was closed. Without further argument, Dena turned and left.
“I’ll brush Cimarron.” Miranda gave him a meaningful look. “You go ahead, Lucas.”
“Thanks. I’ll be back shortly. Paige, try not to worry. We’ll find Shannon.”
Paige merely nodded.
Lucas addressed the volunteers as they gathered around, telling them about finding Shannon’s hair tie. “There’s other ways to get to that lake and the area around it,” he said. “We’ll all meet back here at one-thirty—divide into groups. We’ll decide which areas we should search next. We might have a dead end for now, but it’s possible we can still pick up a lead.”
“I’ll be happy to come back,” Kyle offered. “Maybe
Blackhawk can find something yet.”
Miranda thanked him, then watched Lucas climb into his Blazer and drive away, the empty horse trailer rattling behind him. Several other people left as well, promising to rejoin the search later.
“Me and Chet can brush those horses down for you, Miranda,” Sam said, his bright blue eyes sympathetic. “Yours, too, Miss Paige. Why don’t you go inside and put your feet up for a spell.” Miranda appreciated the older cowboy trying to comfort her. “Thanks anyway, Sam, but I could use something to keep me busy.”
“You can take Snap,” Paige said, handing the mare over. “I need to get this food put away and go help with lunch.” One of the neighboring ranchers had offered to feed the volunteers a hearty meal.
“I’m going to see Tori after I finish with the horses,” Miranda told her, “but I won’t be gone long.” Tori’s shift at the Silver Spur had kept her from being at the ranch today.
Paige nodded, then headed for the back door. Miranda led Ranger and Cimarron toward the barn. She cross-tied each horse in the aisle, looking over at Poker’s stall. A lump swelled in her throat. The big bay gelding had settled down, and now stood contentedly munching hay from his feeder, oblivious to the fate of his owner.
“I sure wish you could talk,” she murmured.
As she unsaddled and brushed Ranger, Miranda’s thoughts drifted from Shannon to Lucas. She’d like to be a fly on the wall when he confronted Clint, the sorry SOB. She couldn’t understand why Dena put up with the abuse he dished out.
But most of all, Miranda had never come to terms with the fact that Lucas thought he was no better than his brother or his father, which was why he’d decided not to marry her, after all.
Apples and oranges.
But nothing Miranda had said could convince him otherwise.
LUCAS DROVE FASTER THAN he should have on his way to Clint’s place, especially since he hadn’t taken the time to unhitch his trailer. He knew his efforts were futile, but some small part of him still hoped he could shake his brother up enough to get him to back off from abusing Dena. Lucas constantly worried for her safety. And right now, he wasn’t exactly in a happy frame of mind.