by Brenda Mott
“Awhile back, as in the night you kidnapped and killed Jo Ella Jamison?”
Masterson’s smirk disappeared, replaced by a scowl. “Now, Sheriff, that’s not a very nice thing to accuse a man of. You know I didn’t do anything to Jo Ella except take her out for a good time.”
“Yeah. Your idea of a good time, maybe.”
“Like I told you and Runyon, she was fine the last time I saw her.” He grinned. “Fine as frog’s hair.”
“Yeah, and what about Shannon Ward?”
Lonnie raised his eyebrows. “What about her? I ain’t seen her since I danced with her at the Silver Spur. Pretty little thing. You know, Sheriff, sometimes I wish I had taken her out for a good time that night instead of Jo Ella.”
Lucas gripped the phone so tight he felt it might crack. He’d rather it was Lonnie’s neck. “Maybe you wish Shannon weren’t around to testify against you. Maybe you did something to make sure of it. Which one of your buddies on the outside have you been in touch with lately?”
Lonnie guffawed. “What do I look like? One of the Sopranos?” He leaned close to the Plexiglas. “You bet, Blaylock. I hired Guido to whack her.” Then he leaned back in his chair and laughed.
“If I find out you had anything to do with Shannon’s disappearance, you won’t find your situation so amusing.” With that, Lucas slammed down the phone.
If he were a drinking man, he thought as he drove back to town, he’d be turning to a quart of whiskey about now.
Instead, he’d settle for a good, stiff cup of Fae and Mae’s coffee.
BY EIGHT-THIRTY, MIRANDA was at her computer, morning chores already behind her. From her desk, she pulled out a ream of colored paper, the pastels she used to create flyers advertising her barrel racing clinic and horse-breaking services. She’d have to rearrange her schedule and disappoint her clients, she thought numbly, as she fed pale pink sheets into her laser printer.
When she pulled up a picture of Shannon on her desktop, a lump in her throat threatened to choke her. It was a close-up shot of Shannon and Poker, standing near Paige’s barn. Miranda used her software program to zoom in on her sister, then cropped the photo so that her face was clearly seen. Then she ran off several dozen copies and drove to town. She’d arranged to meet her mom and Tori at the Truck Inn.
When she got there, the two were sitting at the counter nursing cups of coffee. Booths and tables alike were full to near capacity with hungry truck drivers and local customers. Behind the counter, Fae and Mae moved with the practice of years spent at a job they enjoyed, balancing impossible numbers of platters and calling out orders to the cook. The sound of a sizzling grill drifted from the cutout divider between the kitchen and the dining room. But the smells of waffles and bacon, which would ordinarily tempt Miranda, barely registered as she sat beside her mother on one of the tall, ladder-back stools.
“Morning, honey,” Mae said, plunking a white ceramic mug on the counter in front of Miranda. Hot, black coffee swirled into it, steam rising. “What can I get for you?”
“Coffee’s fine,” Miranda said. She laid the flyers on the counter.
“Now, you’re going to need more than coffee if you’re going to keep up your strength,” Mae scolded. “Just ask your momma. I’ll have Zane whip up some eggs and hash browns for you. It’ll only take a minute.” She bustled away.
“Are you all right, Mom?” Miranda eyeballed Paige’s plate, which contained the better part of a waffle, the maple syrup congealed around it. “You need to eat, too.”
“That’s what I told her,” Tori said. Her own plate had the leavings of biscuits and gravy. She pushed it away. “Guess I’m not all that hungry, either.”
Paige shoved a hand through her black hair. It looked as if she’d barely bothered to comb it. “I can’t eat.” She reached for one of the flyers. “You did a good job on these. I sure hope they help bring Shannon home. I saw Garrett a few minutes ago, and he said dispatch was getting quite a few calls already, but none of them have panned out.”
“What kind of calls?” Miranda asked.
“Well, one guy claimed he’d seen Shannon walking with Jesus on a lake in Minnesota.” She let out a snort. “Does that tell you what sort of tips they’re getting?”
“Maybe so, but one of them will pay off eventually. You’ll see.” Miranda spoke with a confidence she didn’t really feel.
“I’ll put up some flyers in the windows,” Mae said, as she passed by on her way to the kitchen.
“Leave us a stack of them, honey,” Fae added. “We’ll give them to some of the truckers running regular routes through the area. Maybe they can hang them up here and there—just in case.”
“Thanks,” Miranda said, dividing the flyers.
“Good morning, ladies.”
Miranda turned to see Kyle standing at her elbow. He wore faded jeans and a T-shirt, his brown hair mostly hidden beneath his ball cap.
“Hi, Kyle. How’s Blackhawk?”
“Raring to go, as usual. Have you got plans for continuing the search today?”
Miranda nodded. “I think everyone’s pretty much going to keep combing the areas we’ve partially covered.” She indicated Paige and Tori. “We’re going to post some flyers around town, then head out and look some more.”
“Great. I can take Blackhawk out again.”
“The police are directing the search and rescue,” Paige said. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to see you again…. I just want my daughter to come home.”
Kyle nodded. “We’ll do our best to see that happens as soon as possible.” He sat at a vacant stool beside Miranda and ordered breakfast.
Miranda picked at the plate of eggs, hash browns and toast Mae set in front of her moments later. She tried to eat it, knowing Mae was right. Already, her mother appeared worn-out. Miranda wondered if she looked as tired.
But her adrenaline surged when she thought of Shannon. She forked another bite of potatoes into her mouth. The bell on the door over the café rang as customers came in and out, a sound so familiar Miranda had blocked it out. Until she caught sight of Lucas in her peripheral vision.
The food in her stomach turned sour.
“Good morning. Looks like you’re all ready to get down to business.” He glanced at the flyers, then Kyle.
Miranda could’ve sworn she saw something light in his eyes for a quick minute, something resembling jealousy. Her imagination must be playing tricks on her.
“Tell that to my aching body,” Paige replied. “I thought I was used to riding long hours, until now.”
“I hear you,” Tori said. “I think I’m starting to walk like Festus in Gunsmoke.”
“Well, it’ll feel better once it quits hurtin’,” Lucas quipped. “Kyle, don’t you have a little boy to take care of? Your son—”
“Nathan.” Kyle beamed. “He’s with his mother this week…We’re divorced,” he added to Miranda.
Lucas frowned, and this time Miranda knew she wasn’t imagining things.
What in the world was he doing? She glared, but Lucas merely leaned one hand on the back of her chair.
“You coming down to fill out that report?”
“As soon as I put up the flyers,” she said.
“Garrett and Frank are going door-to-door, questioning as many people around and outside of town as they can. The flyers will help. Bring some with you.” He tipped his hat at Paige. “Take care.”
Miranda didn’t even realize she’d been holding her breath until Lucas took his hand off her chair, where he’d rested it against her…probably unintentionally. Yet she’d had to fight the urge to inch forward to the edge of her seat.
She hated that he still got to her.
She waited until she was sure Lucas was gone before standing. “Are you sure you’re up to helping us hang these, Mom?” she asked as she slipped a ten onto the counter.
“As much as you are,” Paige retorted. But she softened her words by patting Miranda’s arm. “Don’t worry about me, sw
eetie. I’m okay. We’ll get through this together, just like always.” She gave her a squeeze.
“I know.” Miranda managed a half smile. “You ready, Tori?”
“And willing.” Her friend took a final sip of coffee before setting down her mug. “See you later, Aunt Mae. Bye, Aunt Fae.” She waved.
Outside, they hopped into Miranda’s truck and drove into downtown Sage Bend, which was really only a few blocks long. Miranda parked and divided up the flyers. “Shoot! I forgot the Scotch tape.”
“Got it.” Tori pulled a roll from her pocket.
“I brought extra,” Paige said, handing some over to Miranda. “See you girls in a bit.” She started down the street.
“She’s a trooper,” Tori said. “She’ll be all right, Miranda.”
“I hope so. I’ve never seen her look so worried or so tired.”
Tori’s expression softened. “I know.” She bit her lip. “Let’s make sure she takes it easy this afternoon.”
“Right.” Miranda halved the remaining flyers. “We’d both have to sit on her, and even then we’d have a battle on our hands.”
The two split up, going into every place of business that was open. Miranda hadn’t thought about the fact that it was Sunday, and many of the shops on Main Street were closed. She glanced up at the sky, noting thunderheads in the distance. Still, she taped flyers on the outside of the closed retailers, knowing the owners wouldn’t mind. She could always make more flyers if these got wet.
A short while later she dropped her mom and Tori back at the Truck Inn—Tori to go to work and Paige to drive her truck home.
“So, you’re going to the sheriff’s office?” Paige asked, leaning on the open passenger door of Miranda’s pickup.
For a brief moment, Miranda wanted to ask her mother to go in her place. She knew Paige sensed her uneasiness around Lucas.
It didn’t matter.
“Yeah. I’ll meet you back at the ranch in a while.”
Paige nodded and closed the door. But when Miranda pulled into the parking lot of the county building, her breakfast threatened to make a second appearance.
After all these years of pushing thoughts of him aside, of avoiding him at every turn, she now had to lean on him.
The man she hated every bit as much as she’d once loved him.
AS HE WAITED FOR MIRANDA, Lucas used his time to go over Shannon’s cell phone records. He’d had to wait the required forty-eight hours to count her as officially missing, and even though he’d gotten the cart before the horse, not having the missing person’s report in hand quite yet, he’d felt compelled to carry on with his search, anyway. Everyone knew Shannon wouldn’t be gone if something hadn’t happened to her.
He still didn’t trust Lonnie Masterson, and the thought that he would be the one to have to bring any bad news to Miranda and her mother had kept him awake the past two nights. He might have left Miranda at the altar, but he never did manage to get her out of his head.
What an idiot he’d been last night. He had no idea why he’d gone to the stream. Maybe instinct had led him to Miranda. They’d been so close, they used to practically read each other’s minds. Until he’d blown it.
And now, Kyle Miller was lurking about. A single father, probably just looking to give little Nathan a new stepmommy. Lucas set his jaw. He knew he was being an ass—that he owed a lot to Kyle for searching with his dog. Yet when he’d seen the guy sitting right there next to Miranda at the truck stop…
The sound of her footsteps drew his attention. She halted in his doorway, looking determined but tired. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail beneath a black cowboy hat, and the blue in the shirt she wore brought out the color of her eyes.
“Come on in,” he said gruffly, furious that he should notice such things. He barely glanced at her when she took the chair on the other side of his desk.
She laid some flyers down. “I’ll let you hang these on your bulletin board…wherever else you want. Tori, Mom and I practically wallpapered the town with them. I thought I’d put some up in your windows, too.”
“That’s fine.” From his desk, Lucas picked up the copy of Shannon’s cell phone records he’d obtained that morning. “You want to take a look at this and tell me if you recognize any of the numbers on it?”
“The ranch number is on here…Mom’s. Mine, too, and my cell.” Miranda stared at the piece of paper. “Other than those, I don’t recognize any of them.”
“All right, then. We’ll dial the rest and see what we get.” He slid the missing person’s form in front of her with a pen across it. “The DA’s having a hissy fit over Shannon’s disappearance, her being his key witness in Masterson’s trial. He’s calling in the state police.”
“We can use all the help we can get,” Miranda said. “But as far as the DA, it’s not his trial I’m worried about. I need to know where my sister is. I need to find her safe and sound.” Her blue eyes darkened. “That’s all that matters to me.”
“I understand. Did you make a list of anything you might’ve forgotten before?”
She shook her head. “I honestly can’t think of anything. I mean, Shannon’s been uptight, worried about the trial and all. But nothing specific comes to mind.”
He nodded. “Is Kyle going to bring his dog out to the ranch again?”
Miranda paused, pen in hand. “What is up with your attitude?”
He felt his face heat. “What attitude?”
“You know damn good and well what I’m talking about. You were rude to Kyle at the truck stop.”
“I was not.”
She merely raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, so maybe I wasn’t as grateful as I should’ve been to the guy. I guess I’m tired.” He leaned back in his chair. “Is he coming back out to the ranch or not?”
“I think so. He’s been working Blackhawk in various areas, from what I understand.”
“I know. He’s been a big help,” Lucas said.
Hell, he’d call up Brad Pitt, Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom if he thought it would help take the sadness from Miranda’s eyes.
He started to give her his word that he’d find Shannon, until he remembered his word didn’t mean much to her anymore.
MIRANDA HAD JUST FINISHED taping a couple of flyers to either side of the sheriff’s office windows when she looked across the street and spotted Vance Porter and his yellow dog. With a reputation as Sage Bend’s proverbially reclusive mountain man, Vance came to town only when he had to. As Miranda watched, the fifty something man snatched a flyer off the window of the antique shop, glanced around, then slipped the paper inside his shirt.
“Hey!” Miranda shouted as she pushed through the glass doors and ran across the street. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He turned to her, narrowing his dark brown eyes, his lips dotted with flecks of chewing tobacco. Beneath his gray cowboy hat, his salt-and-pepper hair was cropped military style, his almond-brown face creased into an embarrassed smile.
The yellow Labrador barked at Miranda, then wagged its tail.
“Can’t a feller look in a shop window without being accosted?” Vance spat into the gutter.
“You took my flyer,” Miranda accused, indicating the chambray shirt he wore over a T-shirt. “Put it back.”
“I didn’t see your name on it,” Vance said, drawing back like a spiteful child.
“No, but it has my sister’s photo on it, and she’s been missing since Friday. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” She folded her arms and stared him down.
“Listen here, missy. I’ve knowed your momma since before you was even born. Don’t you go gettin’ sassy with me.”
“Cough it up,” Miranda said, holding out her hand.
Vance ground his teeth, then reached inside his shirt and grudgingly produced the rolled-up flyer. “You’ve got plenty of them,” he grumbled.
Miranda snatched the paper from him, smoothed the wrinkles out against the window
glass, then applied a fresh piece of tape before rounding on Vance again. “Why did you take it?”
“I didn’t mean no harm,” the man said nervously, as Lucas jogged across the street. “Really, I didn’t.”
“What’s going on?” Lucas demanded.
“He took one of my flyers—had it stuffed inside his shirt.”
“Is that right, Vance?”
“Like I told her, I didn’t mean no harm. I just wanted the picture, that’s all. Your sister’s a pretty woman.”
Miranda’s temper flared. “What are you, some kind of—”
“I’ll take care of this, Miranda,” Lucas said. “Go on back to the Rocking W. Your mom doesn’t need any more excitement.”
“No, she doesn’t.” She took a step toward Vance. “And if I find out you had anything to do with my sister’s disappearance, you’ll regret the day you were born.”
“Well, there’s nothing new in that!” he called after her.
With one final glare, Miranda got in her truck. She started to drive to the ranch, then abruptly changed her mind. Bypassing her normal route, she took the right fork in the road and gunned the engine. Vance Porter might sell the best grass-alfalfa hay in the valley, but he was weird, not to mention a can or two short of a six-pack. And Miranda knew he had an eye for her mother. She’d seen the way he looked at Paige on the few occasions they’d run into him in town. Miranda trusted Vance about as far as she could throw him, especially after what she’d just witnessed. Why hadn’t she thought to look at his place sooner?
He lived miles from town, at the end of a dirt road that wound up Cutback Mountain, in a cabin he’d built himself out of rough-hewn logs. Miranda hoped the guy planned to be in town for a while. With luck, Lucas would stall him, asking questions.
Two more Labradors rose from the porch to bark at her as she parked—a black one and a chocolate, its sun-faded coat cinnamon colored. “Hey, fellas,” Miranda let the dogs sniff the back of her hand, then gave them a rub across their necks and behind their ears. They quickly decided she was a friend and followed her, tails wagging, as she climbed onto the porch. Miranda peered through the window beside the front door, but couldn’t see much through the dusty glass and half-drawn curtains.