“Who took care of you after they died?”
“Uncle Phillip is our guardian, but really, we took care of each other. We’re identical twins. She is me. And I am her.”
“Like your names. Same letters rearranged, but still the same.”
She nodded and gave him a half smile to acknowledge how much she appreciated he got it in some small way.
“Sounds like you two were very close.”
“She was my best friend. My other half. The same as me, yet different in such lovely and beautiful ways. When I looked at her, I saw all that I am and so much more that was just her. She made me believe I could be all those extra things she was, because if she could be that, so could I because we are the same.”
Ella turned her back on the horses and opened the truck door, sliding inside and closing it again. She sat quietly in the car, staring straight ahead, utter despair etched on her delicate features.
Stunned by the depth of her words about her sister and how close they were to each other, he couldn’t imagine Ella ever hurting Lela.
He didn’t move for a moment, but stared at the horses and thought of his brothers and all the good times they’d had together as kids and now.
He walked back to his truck, got behind the wheel, started the engine, but didn’t drive away. Instead, he laid his hand over hers in her lap and gave it a squeeze to let her know he understood, at least in some part, how she felt. The sigh she let out echoed through him. He didn’t expect her to do anything, but she turned her hand and linked her fingers with his and squeezed, holding on.
Chapter 7
Ella stared out the windshield at the massive wood and stone custom home her mother designed and her father built for his beloved wife. They’d created a retreat for their family, not a lavish estate for impressing guests and business associates. Nothing like their Vail property.
Nothing had changed, except the trees looked bigger, more mature. No flowers this time of year, but in the spring the gardens would be beautiful in her mother’s favorite colors. Blue camas, white asters, pink wild hollyhock, and bright yellow prairie coneflowers. The abundance of plants and flowers would bloom in a sea of color against the backdrop of the rocks and native grasses in the fields.
“Ella? Do you want to go inside?”
The feel of Gabe’s hand in hers reassured her in a way she didn’t want to examine too deeply. Not now, when her emotions were so raw. His comfort made it that much easier to think of the past and remember her and Lela playing in the front yard, running across the wide expanse of grass, chasing each other. A flood of happy memories rushed over her. She welcomed them and the sense of happiness and family they brought. She tried to hold on to that feeling and not get swept away by the paralyzing realization they were gone, her uncle wanted her dead, and she didn’t know why.
Time for answers.
To thank Gabe for his support and understanding, she raised their joined hands and kissed the back of his. His eyes went wide with surprise. He reached up with his free hand and traced the side of her face. She couldn’t help leaning into the whisper-soft caress. His heated gaze swept down the length of her, settling back on their joined hands. She didn’t acknowledge the look, but understood exactly what it meant. He found her attractive. Lots of men did, but she long ago stopped falling for guys who looked at her that way just because she wanted attention. With her twenty-fifth birthday looming and the responsibilities it would bring, she’d spent the last couple of years reevaluating her priorities and goals. She’d worked hard to catch up to Lela, to be the partner her sister deserved. Now, she’d have to do it on her own. The task seemed daunting, especially if she couldn’t unravel the riddle of Lela and their uncle.
She regretted letting go of Gabe, but she did it to face what came next on her own. She needed to be strong for her sister’s memory. She pulled Lela’s purse from her tote and rummaged through the contents for the set of keys she discovered earlier. Determined to see this through, she exited the truck and walked straight up the snow-covered flagstone walkway and steps to the front door. She inserted the key and stepped into her past, halting in the foyer, staring at—nothing.
The house was empty. All the furniture, paintings, rugs, knickknacks were gone. A beep sounded behind her. She turned to punch in the alarm code, but Gabe did it for her.
Eyes narrowed, she glared. “Why do you know the alarm code?”
“I tried to tell Lela the other day. I met the movers and oversaw them clearing out the house.”
“Where did they take everything?”
“Storage units in Crystal Creek.”
She took a step toward him, angry he’d kept this from her. She wondered what else he knew and if he’d sold her out to her uncle. She glanced out the door, expecting a dark sedan to rush down the driveway, men spilling out to take her back to New York. Fear squeezed her lungs and made her heart stop.
“Do you work for my uncle?”
“No.”
“Did he send you here to find me?” She hated that her voice trembled.
“I found you on the side of the road nearly frozen to death. I barely know the man.”
“But you do know him.”
“I’ve spoken to him over the phone a couple of times.”
“Why?”
“To close the deal for the sale of the ranch.”
“Are you a real estate agent?” That didn’t really compute with all she knew about him. He lived on a ranch, loved his horses and treated them like children if the way he pet and fawned over Sully last night when he pulled him out of the trailer and put him into a corral was any indication. She may have been out of it, but she recognized a fellow horse lover. He kept a neat and tidy home, despite the sparse furnishings. Still, she liked the homey feel he’d created with pictures of his family on the mantel along with his belt buckles and rodeo trophies.
“No, I bought this place.”
“You own my house?”
“Yes. Well, not yet.”
“Which is it?”
“The deal closes on March twelfth.”
Surprised, she asked, “Who signed the deal?”
“What do you mean?”
“Who signed for the Wolf family?”
“Phillip Wolf. Why?”
“That greedy bastard. How much?”
“For the house and land?”
“Yes. How much?”
“One and a half million. I put up seven hundred and fifty thousand cash and financed the other half.”
She laughed, and the bitter sound echoed through the empty rooms. Pissed off and feeling surly, she snapped, “This is my house. It is not for sale.”
“I have the papers. This will be my house in a few weeks.”
“No, it won’t.”
Gabe closed the distance between them and stared down at her. She had to tilt her head way back to keep eye contact. A mere few inches separated them. His heat wrapped around her in the cold house.
“The money is sitting in the escrow account and will be paid out on March twelfth and this house and land will be mine.”
“No, it won’t. Unless I’m dead.”
Gabe took a step back at that ominous reply.
Yes, now she saw it. Her uncle planned her and Lela’s death long before what happened to her sister. If she could think past her fear, grief, and anger, maybe she could figure all this out.
She took a calming breath to ward off the rage boiling in her gut. Gabe deserved an explanation. She hoped what little she knew explained well enough.
“When did my uncle put the house up for sale?”
“He didn’t. Not really. I own the small piece of property next door as you know. I called him two months ago and asked if I could lease part of your land to run some cattle. We got to talking and he asked if I’d be interested in buying this place.
“Ella, what is going on? I see your sister here one day, she’s murdered, you show up the next, and now you’ve got to come here. You own this place,
but you don’t know about the sale.”
“There is no sale.”
“Unless you’re dead. Explain that. Explain everything you aren’t saying to me.”
“I can’t. I thought it was here, but it’s not. Everything is gone.”
“It’s not gone. Just packed away. Tell me what you’re looking for and I’ll get it for you.”
She tilted her head and eyed him. “What do you mean?”
“I inventoried the entire house and oversaw the packing and moving. Everything is in storage in numbered and marked boxes. If you tell me what you’re looking for, I can check the list, find the box, and get it for you.”
“Did you pack up the sculpture that hung on the wall over there? My father built the intricate puzzle. I want it.”
“Is that what that was? I wondered. It’s in storage.”
“I also want the painting that hung over the mantel.” She pointed to the river rock fireplace that went from floor to twenty-foot ceiling, with glass windows on both sides, in the great room.
“There wasn’t a painting.”
“Five by six foot. A field of daisies with two little girls running in white dresses, their arms outstretched to touch the flowers, their hair flying in the breeze.”
“You and your sister.”
“My mother painted it. I want it.”
“Ella, there were no painting on the walls, just family photos.”
“A Rembrandt hung in my father’s office. A Manet floral in my mother’s dressing room. Albert Bierstadt landscapes, probably ten of them, hung all over the house.”
“His landscapes sell for tens of thousands of dollars.”
“Try millions. But they weren’t here, were they?”
“No. Ella, I swear to you, I didn’t take them.”
“I never said you did.”
“Is that why you and Lela came here? The paintings?”
“I . . . I don’t know.” She didn’t know what Lela found at the house. Was that what she discovered her uncle doing? Illegally selling paintings from their properties? Selling their properties without their signature? How many of the other houses had he ransacked? Did she have to check the Vail house? The ones in Hawaii, Paris, Milan, and the New York estate in the country where she kept her horses? Where her mother chose death over her daughters. Oh, and the house in San Francisco where he preferred to spend his holidays—away from them.
She and Lela had worked so diligently to learn the business and earn their degrees, they’d ignored their personal assets, except to verify the bills were paid as expected by the accountants. She and Lela learned one very valuable lesson from their father: Always sign the checks. Don’t trust others to handle the money. Pay them for their advice and expertise, but never give them signing authority. Which might explain why her uncle stole the paintings for easy cash. He could sell them on the black market without the provenance papers to collectors who cared less about those kinds of things and more about possessing the great works of art. Could this have been what he was hiding? Or was it just the tip of the iceberg?
“Ella.” Gabe called her name to pull her out of her thoughts. “And the sale that won’t take place unless you’re dead, what about that?”
“I really hate talking about my death.”
“I can imagine, especially since your sister’s been murdered, but I need to know what you mean. My money and my life are tied up in this sale.”
“There is no sale.”
“I bought and paid for this house and property. The money is in escrow.”
“Are you sure about that?” She hated to think her uncle might have cheated this good man out of his money.
Gabe pulled his cell phone from his pocket. She touched his hand to stop him from dialing. “If the money isn’t there, tell them you’ll handle the matter personally. You’re in contact with Phillip, and you’ll settle the matter with him directly. I will pay you back.”
“If my money isn’t sitting in that account, I own this place, and Phillip can go screw himself.”
“You don’t own this place because he can’t sell it without my signature.”
“He’s your guardian and trustee over the estate. He told me.”
“My parents made him guardian, but two lawyers are the trustees, and me or my sister are required to sign off on all checks and transactions. Without our signatures, nothing is legal. We own everything. Not Uncle Phillip. He has no power over the estate, or my sister and me.”
“Unless you’re dead.”
“Yes.” To distract him from asking anything more, she nodded to his phone. “Make your call.”
It didn’t take Gabe more than a minute to contact the real estate office and have them verify the escrow account closed out the day after the money cleared the bank. All his money gone. Gabe held his phone in a death grip, pressing his fist to his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut, trying to think and hold back the string of curse words running through his head.
“Fuck me!”
“Yes. He did. But I’ll make it right.”
“I don’t want you to make it right, I want to tear his head off.”
“I’m happy to let you, but first I need to see the papers he signed.”
“They’re at my place. The real estate agent said everything was in order. The Wolf lawyers completed the papers. How could they do that if they require your signature?”
“I don’t know. My guess is that he paid them off with the money he got from selling the artwork.”
“I verified the title changes into my name, but didn’t really bother to look who signed off on everything. Why would I? The house is held under the name of the trust, not in your and Lela’s names directly.”
“Right, I didn’t think of that.”
“And you’re sure the sale can’t go through? He has the money.”
“Gabe,” she said at length. “You know it can’t go through. Somewhere in that bright mind of yours you thought something like this might happen, because a decent guy like you can’t possibly believe my uncle sold you this house and property for one-point-five million when it’s worth at least four million.”
“He never meant to sell this place to me. He only wanted to steal the money.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“Why?”
“Because of the date he wanted the sale to clear.”
“What about it?”
“It’s my birthday.”
“March twelfth.”
“Yes. I turn twenty-five and everything my parents left to me is mine. No strings attached. No more restrictions. I take control of the company and all the assets.”
“Unless you’re dead, and he gets it all.”
“He killed Lela. If you’d left me to die last night, you could have solved my uncle’s problem and yours.”
Chapter 8
“No one is going to kill you.” The thought turned Gabe’s stomach. Her uncle wanted her dead. The bastard killed Lela, and based on the news this morning, Phillip had already subtly pointed the finger at Ella. Gabe might not want to get close to her, but he had to keep her safe. He couldn’t live with himself if something happened to her. Not after all she’d been through.
This was fucked up. The money worried him. Hell, it pissed him off. All his plans just went down the drain. He had every dime sunk in this place and buying the livestock. How was he going to pay back the loan? Where the hell was he going to put another four hundred head of cattle? They’d never fit on his tiny spread. He needed the Wolf land, or he’d simply have to resell them and eat the loss.
All that money . . . His stomach soured and tightened, threatening to make him ill.
Every time he was on the verge of having everything, it all fell apart. The scale had simply changed. Before, he’d bought his small property for his fiancée, to show her he could provide for her. It was to be the start of their new life together, but it turned out to be the end. This time, he’d worked his ass off, reached higher, put everyt
hing he had into the impressive Wolf spread, and still he came up empty. Now, he might not even be able to hold on to his place.
“Will you please take me to get my bag from that asshole Travis?”
Pulled from his dark thoughts and dwindling bank account, he refocused on the woman in front of him who needed his help. “Then what? You’ll go back to New York and accuse your uncle of murder and theft of the paintings?”
“I don’t have a way to prove either yet, and he has God knows how many officials in his pocket. You saw the news, they are ready to pin the murder on me. But this gives me a place to start. First, I need to find the paperwork on the paintings. It’s probably in my father’s papers.”
“Maybe that’s what Lela found, too. She left the files all over your father’s office. Looked like she spent a long time going through them.”
“Maybe. Did she say anything to you about the property sale?”
“Based on the way she acted, I don’t think she knew about it. She was in a hurry to leave.”
“Maybe she found something else in the files.”
“More embezzlement and fraud perhaps?”
She frowned and shrugged. “Perhaps.” She turned and hobbled out the door, her gaze straight ahead. She never looked at the massive rooms. The house might be empty, but she’d filled it with her grief. He felt it like a living thing inside these walls.
He went after her, stopping in the open front door to stare at her beautiful upturned face. Tears tracked down her cheeks and onto her neck. Eyes closed, her face soft and pale. Her light brown hair glistened with gold highlights in the bright sun. Her arms hung heavy at her sides. She favored her right foot and leaned a bit, but none of that held his attention as much as the weight of utter, desperate loneliness that hung on her.
His feet moved before he consciously knew what he was doing. Instinct carried him to her. Something else made him wrap his arms around her and pull her close to his chest. He didn’t think too hard about what made him want to protect and comfort her. Instead, he gave in to that need and held her and pressed his cheek to her soft hair and stood with her in the sun until her tears dried.
At Wolf Ranch Page 7