Texas Orchids (The Devil's Horn Ranch Series)

by Samantha Christy

  “I need more time.” Her words are short, clipped.

  “How much time?” I almost blurt out something stupid, like, “Forget him”, or “I love you and I’ll do anything to have you, including shoveling shit on someone else’s ranch.” Because it’s true. I knew it before Bobby Monahan came here and threatened everything. “Andie?”

  “I don’t know. Just more time. And beer. I really could use a beer.”

  The line goes dead, and I almost throw up. She said beer. She said it twice.

  I immediately try to call back, but it goes to voicemail. I page through my contacts and find Katherine. I get her voicemail, too, but on the way to my truck, I leave her a message.

  “Katherine, it’s Maddox McBride. You need to get here now. Andie’s missing, and I got a strange call from her. She said she needed beer. You know what that means. I’m going to Victor’s right now. Please bring whoever you can and meet me there.”

  Owen sees me running to my truck. “Where’s the fire?”

  “Andie’s missing. Victor has her. She’s in trouble.”

  He yells to Zac to bring his gun. “I’m not letting you go alone.”

  “Hopefully I won’t be. I called the FBI.”

  Zac, Merle, and Matteo run over and get in the truck with us. Owen says, “I told you we got your back, city boy.” He calls the police, and I hear a lot of back and forth. He’s getting mad. He throws his phone on the seat. “They say they’ll send the first available officer.”

  “First available officer? How long will that take? I fucking know who has her.”

  “I told him. He said it’s probably a false alarm and that things like this happen all the time, and the missing people almost always show up.”

  “That’s bullshit. She gave me the code word.”

  “I’m sorry, man. Hopefully your friend from the FBI will show up.”

  “Fuck.” I speed and get to Victor’s house in record time. “Owen, come with me. The rest of you surround the house.” I try the handle; it’s locked. I bang on the door. “Open up!”

  “Move aside,” Owen says.

  I do and he kicks in the door. I run inside. “Andie!” Owen and I go through every room of the house.

  “She’s not here,” he says.

  I sit down and put my head in my hands. “I can’t sit here and do nothing.” Suddenly, I remember the ring. “Oh, shit.” I bring up the app on my phone, but there’s nothing. Either she can’t activate the microphone, or she’s out of range.

  “Get inside the house, motherfucker,” I hear from outside.

  Matteo comes in with Victor, pointing a gun to his head. I pull out my own gun and aim it at him. “Where is she?”

  “Where’s who?”

  “Andie. I know you have her.”

  He turns green. “Andie is missing?”

  “Don’t pretend like you don’t know, Tim Dorsey.”

  He turns ashen.

  “Yeah,” I say. “The jig is up. We know you have her, and we know you killed Jennifer Grossman.”

  “What are you talking about? I have no idea where Andie is, and I had nothing to do with Jennifer’s disappearance.”

  I holster my gun, walk over, and punch him. “Where the fuck is she?”

  He spits blood and looks at me with eyes full of fear. “Jesus, Maddox, I don’t have her. If she’s missing, you’ve got the wrong guy, and we need to find her.”

  I force him to sit on the couch. “You expect me to believe you? We gave her a code word to use if she ever felt threatened. She just used it.”

  “What do you mean, you gave her a code word. Who’s we?”

  “The FBI.”

  He swallows. “You’re with the FBI?”

  “No, but Katherine is… uh, Melina. We’ve been watching you for months. We know you killed that girl.”

  “I didn’t kill anyone! Months? And Andie knew?”

  “Andie was part of it, you scumbag. Of course she knew.”

  “It makes so much sense now. All her questions, the prying and bargaining for information.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not who you think I am.”

  “You’re Tim Dorsey. Before you were Victor, you were Neil somebody. We know all about how you move around to avoid the police.”

  “I’m not Tim Dorsey, and I don’t move around to avoid the police.”

  Owen puts his gun to Victor’s temple. “We don’t have time for this shit. Tell us where she is.”

  “I’m telling you, I don’t know! And I’m not Tim Dorsey. You have to listen to me so we can find Andie.”

  “You have ten seconds before I shoot you in the foot,” Owen says.

  “My name is Matt Cryer,” he says, sobbing. “I’m running from my father, Nolan Cryer, who killed my younger sister five years ago. Look it up. She died in a fire. He set it but got off on a technicality, and it was found to be accidental. Google it. Do it now.”

  “What’s your sister’s name?”

  “Megan Cryer. She was fifteen. We lived in Missouri.”

  I google Megan Cryer dead house fire Missouri.

  I read the article. “You’re lying. If you’re Matt Cryer, you’re dead. He died in the fire, along with his sister.”

  “That’s it,” Owen says, cocking the gun. “I’m shooting his foot.”

  Victor cries out.

  “Jesus, he pissed himself,” Matteo says.

  “Listen to me,” Victor says. “I wasn’t in the house. It was my best friend, Tim Dorsey. My dad is a psycho. He beat me and did horrific things to Megan. I was almost eighteen. I could have left a hundred times. I even tried once, took Megan with me, but he found us. He’s ex-military and had ways of finding stuff out. I was home when the fire started, but Megan and Tim were in the basement. I couldn’t get to them, so I ran, barely escaping. The closest neighbors were half a mile away. I hid in the trees and saw my dad come out of the shed. Instead of running toward the house and trying to save us, he stood there and watched it burn. I swear to God, he had a smile on his face. It was that moment when I knew I needed him to think I was dead. He told Megan and me over and over, after he tracked us down, that he’d kill us if we ever left. Tim was my best friend, a foster kid who’d recently aged out of the system. It was easy to become him. We were the same age and we both had brown hair and brown eyes. I broke into his apartment and took what I could—social security card, some utility bills. Anything I could use to get a new driver’s license. But one day when I visited Megan’s grave, my father found me there. I never thought he’d go to the cemetery. Why would he? He’d killed us. But it was too late. He saw me, chased me, and vowed to kill me. He said he’d make sure people knew I started the fire that killed Megan and Tim. So I ran, and I kept running. Every so often I’d assume a different identity to keep him off my trail.”

  “You expect us to believe all that bullshit?”

  “It’s true.” Katherine is in the doorway with Michael. “We hadn’t gotten around to telling you yet, Maddox. Someone from Missouri, one of Tim’s foster parents, recognized a picture an agent of ours posted in the newspaper. The woman said it wasn’t Tim but his best friend, Matt Cryer.”

  I’m stunned. “What do you mean, you hadn’t gotten around to telling me yet? Are you fucking kidding me? You’re telling me this asshole isn’t the guy who took Andie?”

  “I didn’t take her!” he yells. “And you’re wasting time sitting here with me when we should be out finding her.”

  “There’s no we,” Katherine says. “Just because you didn’t kidnap Andie doesn’t mean you’re not in trouble. Matt, I sympathize with you, and we’ll do everything we can to help, but you have broken laws.”

  “I don’t care about that right now. You need to find Andie.”

  “We will,” she says. “Maddox, she called you?”

  “Yes, but when I called her back, it went to voicemail. I think she’s wearing the ring, but I’m getting nothing from the microphone. Oh man, Bobby can track her phone. He sai
d he used a tracking app to find her at the bar the other night. Bobby Monahan from Wyoming. Can you get his cell number?” I stiffen as something occurs to me. “Jesus, what if he’s the one who has her? They used to be a thing, and he’s in town. He sent her flowers yesterday and asked her to go to Wyoming with him.”

  Katherine gives me a sympathetic look. “Are you sure she didn’t? That would explain a lot.”

  “She used the code word, Katherine. I’m sure.”

  “You seem to know her better than anyone. I’ll have to take your word for it. We’ll call Bobby, and we should talk to her next of kin. She has a grandfather in town. Can you take me to him? Michael will stay here and deal with Matt.”

  I take one last look at Matt as we leave and almost feel sorry for him. If all this is true, he really does love her and is probably as freaked out as I am right now.

  I throw my keys to Matteo. “Zac gave Gerald a ride home once. Have him text me the address.”

  Katherine and I get in her car. I glare at her. “You could have just called, you know.”

  “And you would have believed me?” She gives me the evil eye. “Based on all the firepower you and your friends were brandishing, looks like I made the right call.”

  “What will happen to Victor, uh, Matt?”

  “Stolen identity of a dead person is a crime, but it’s not federal. It will be up to the state’s attorney.”

  “Can you drive faster please?”

  “We won’t be of any use to anyone if we wrap ourselves around a telephone pole.”

  Twenty minutes later, we pull up to the retirement home and go inside. Katherine flashes her badge, and we’re escorted to Gerald’s apartment. He answers the door.

  “Gerald, this is Katherine York. She’s with the FBI.”

  “The FBI?” He seems pleased. “Damn, now that’s service. I was thinkin’ the sheriff done gone and ignored me.”

  “The sheriff?” I ask.

  Katherine’s phone rings. “It’s Michael.” She has a short conversation and hangs up. “Bobby Monahan can’t track her phone. It must be turned off. He was at the airport waiting to get on a flight, but said he was going to leave and drive out to Devil’s Horn Ranch. Michael said he seemed quite concerned.”

  “Where the hell is she then?” I turn to Gerald. “And why did you talk to Sheriff Wheatly?”

  Gerald waves us in. “I’m old but not that old. What am I missing? You’re not here about Vivian?”

  “My grandmother? What does she have to do with Andie going missing?”

  The color drains from Gerald’s face. “Andie’s missing?”

  Katherine and I help him to a chair. “Now I’m confused,” she says.

  Gerald covers his face and sobs. “It’s all my fault.”

  “What’s your fault?” I ask.

  “I thought you were here because the sheriff called you. I should have known better. Thompson has everyone over a barrel, including Wheatly, apparently.”

  “Gerald, please tell me what’s going on.”

  Tears come to his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. You deserved to know. But they threatened Andie. That girl is my whole world. Yesterday, after hearing what he did to Hugh Jenkins, I knew it had to stop. I thought she’d be safe at the ranch.”

  “Safe from what?” Katherine asks. “Please, Mr. Shaw, we need details.”

  “It’s Joel Thompson. If Andie is missing, he or one of his posse took her.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  Looking guilty, he grabs my hand. “Vivian didn’t fall down the stairs. One of his men pushed her, and last night, I finally told the police.”

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Andie

  My hands are tied behind me, so I doubt anyone listening will hear my whispers. My mouth is too far away from the microphone on my finger, but I try anyway. I try for what seems the hundredth time since a guy wearing a blue track suit and hoodie grabbed me from my living room late last night.

  At first I thought it was Victor, but I have come to know his height, smell, and voice. Unless he hired someone to take me, it’s not him.

  I am extremely groggy. They must have drugged me. My voice is raw from screaming. I’ve probably been taken to a location where nobody else is around. My wrists are bloody from trying to break out of the zip ties around them. My back hurts from sitting in this hard chair.

  “Hello?” I yell. Other than when I was brought here—wherever here is—and the time I was forced to call Maddox at gunpoint, I’ve been alone. It’s been hours, and I really have to pee. “I need to use the bathroom! Is anyone there?” I see a shadow move past the crack under the door. “Hey!”

  The guy in the blue track suit comes in. He doesn’t even bother covering his face, and I start shaking. If he was planning on letting me go, he wouldn’t want me to be able to identify him. “Would you stop screaming, you stupid bitch?”

  “I have to pee.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Listen, you. I have no idea what time it is now, but I assume it’s past noon. That means it’s been well over twelve hours since I peed. You try holding it that long.”

  He leaves, and I hear muffled words. He comes back in and picks up a red bucket.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “It’s this or you piss yourself.”

  “Is that what Victor told you to tell me?”

  “Who the fuck is Victor?”

  I can’t tell if he’s lying. He did just kidnap me. I’m sure he’s a brilliant liar. “I’m not doing it in front of you.”

  “If you think I’m falling for your bullshit, you’re crazy, lady.” He pulls out a knife, cuts the zip ties, freeing my wrists and ankles, and then quickly points a gun at me. “You try anything, and I’ll hurt you. Maybe not that pretty little face, but a bullet in the arm isn’t out of the question.”

  I pick up the bucket and glance around. “Can I at least go behind the bookshelf?” He doesn’t look like he’s willing to concede. “Please?” I beg.

  He waves his gun at the shelf. “Go.”

  I walk around the old wooden bookshelf that must be a hundred years old. There’s an inch of dust on the shelves. Tracksuit Guy is watching me through the slats. I put the bucket down, lower my jeans, and squat over the bucket. It’s hard to get the flow going under such circumstances.

  I try to take in everything around me, searching for clues; something I can use to escape or remember as evidence.

  “You go yet?” he asks impatiently.

  “Give me a minute. It isn’t exactly easy this way.”

  I scan the lower shelves, and my heart stops when I see a collection of Russian nesting dolls.

  “Hurry it up, lady.”

  I close my eyes and try to relax. Finally I’m able to pee. Muffled splashes echo in the large empty bucket. I don’t suppose I can ask for toilet paper. I wiggle my butt and try to drip dry, then pull up my pants. I pick up the bucket and come out from behind the bookshelves.

  He turns up his nose. “No. Leave it there.”

  I put it back. He’s expecting I’ll be here long enough to use it again.

  I wonder if there’s anyone outside. Would he really shoot me if I ran?

  “Lady, don’t even think about it.” He points his gun at the chair. “Sit.”

  I hold up my bruised and bloody wrists. “They hurt. Can you put some gauze on them or something?”

  “Do I look like the Red fucking Cross? Sit your ass down.”

  “Can you at least tie them in front of me? It’s uncomfortable sitting here for hours with them tied behind my back.”

  “You think this is the goddamn Ritz or something?”

  “Please? I promise not to try anything.”

  He laughs as if I’ve said the funniest thing ever. “Tell you what, you quit your incessant screaming, and I’ll tie them in front, but I’ll still have to secure your legs to the chair.”

  I sit and ball my hands into fists, tens
ing them as much as I can, with the hope that when I relax, the ties won’t be as tight. He leaves to resume his post on the other side of the door.

  Before he closes the door, I say, “You can report back to Jon that I’m a model prisoner.”

  He stops. This has his attention.

  “Jon Thompson,” I say. “This is his shed.”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about, lady.”

  “You can drop the charade. I know where I am and who has me. What I don’t know is why. I don’t suppose you’re willing to tell me?”

  He steps out. I hear more muffled words.

  I don’t bother screaming again. If this is Jon’s shed, no one will hear me. It’s about a quarter mile from the main house, and their property is surrounded by trees and a fence and is well away from any neighbors.

  The ring!

  I lift my hand close to my mouth. “I’m in Jon Thompson’s shed. I hope you can hear me. Maddox? I have no idea why I’m here. There is a guy in a blue track suit keeping watch. He’s about your height, dark hair, slight beard. It’s too dark to see the color of his eyes. Can you hear me? I’m in Jon Thompson’s shed.”

  After several minutes of trying to break free of the zip ties, I sit back and consider why I could be here. It can only come down to one thing. The Thompsons must think this is the only way Maddox’s family will sell to them. It’s crazy to think this would work. Do they really think I won’t go to the police? Do they think Mr. McBride will just up and sell the ranch to them and this will all go away like nothing happened?

  But it does give me hope they won’t hurt me. If they did, the McBrides definitely wouldn’t let them buy it. For the first time today, I feel I might have leverage.

  “I want to talk to Jon!” I yell.

  Tracksuit Guy pokes his head in the door. “You ain’t keepin’ your end of the bargain. Shut up, lady.”

  “I know you can’t hurt me. If you do, there’s no way they will make the deal. Tell Jon I want to see him.”

  “Don’t know no Jon.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Lady, I’ve been lying most of my life. Some days I don’t even know myself what’s true or not.”