by Barb Han
“I’ll have Janis check news outlets and see when they started reporting, so we can get an idea of the scope,” Sawmill said.
Meg made a noise. “News about you, us, is out?”
The sheriff nodded.
“That complicates things, doesn’t it?” she asked Sawmill.
“It could,” he admitted. “We’ll focus on those closest to you first. Without any evidence other than the hair ribbon, we have nothing else to tie the killer in. It could be a sick prank or someone trying to get revenge.”
“You asked if I had any contact with her family before,” she continued. “Her parents haven’t spoken to me since...”
“We’re in the process of tracking her brother, Jonathon, down now,” Sawmill said. “His mother said he moved out of town for his work as a bricklayer.”
Wyatt couldn’t imagine the pain Mary Jane’s family had gone through losing their little girl so young. Looking at his own daughter, his protective instincts flared at the thought of anything happening to her. Now that he knew what Meg had been through he wondered if that’s what had made her pull back from him when things started getting interesting between them. He didn’t do long-term, but he’d liked spending time with her, and his current attraction most likely was crackling embers from the flame that had burned brightly a year ago.
Watching her recover after his mess-up with the diaper made him want to work together with her. It also made him feel like a jerk for not accepting help when she’d offered. He’d been so intent on figuring everything out for himself that he’d made everything worse. Wyatt wasn’t used to depending on anyone else. It made him feel...helpless...and reminded him of how awful he’d felt when he couldn’t do anything to ease his mother’s pain before her death.
Being stubborn had made him the success he was in business...
Speaking of work, his phone hadn’t stopped buzzing inside his pocket since they’d walked into the sheriff’s office. That didn’t signal good news. The longer this day wore on the worse it got.
And just when he thought the crap-day limit had been hit, Dade Butler knocked on the sheriff’s door.
“Can I come in?” the Butler twin asked with a nod toward Sawmill.
Sheriff Sawmill stood. “My apologies in advance, but Mr. Butler asked me to let him know when you came in. He said he has an offer for both of you and that you need to hear him out.”
Meg shot a confused look at Wyatt.
“There’s nothing for us to hear,” he said.
“Can I speak to my half-brother alone?” Dade asked the sheriff.
Sawmill excused himself.
Wyatt stood between Meg and Dade, shielding her and the baby from what he wasn’t exactly sure.
“I’m here to offer any assistance you need,” Dade said with a sincere look.
“You were sent?” Wyatt arched his brow.
“I volunteered, but that’s not the point.” Dade folded his arms. “The way I see it, you can use a hand.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to fill me in,” Wyatt said, unmoved. He had no idea what kind of game the Butlers were playing, but he had enough on his plate without adding them as complications. “What help have you decided we need?”
“All the media attention surrounding our father’s murder has brought out a lot of crazies. Several of our family members have already been targets and we’ve been fortunate so far that no one has been hurt,” Dade said with that same look of sincerity.
“My daughter isn’t a Butler,” Wyatt countered. “And neither am I.”
“That may well be in your eyes, but not everyone might see it that way,” Dade said. “I read someone attempted to kidnap her.”
“Her name was never in the news.” Wyatt had double-checked this morning to be sure.
“We put two and two together and so will others if they haven’t already,” Dade said. “It’s not exactly a safe time to be connected to this family and whether you like it or not, you are.”
“All the more reason to keep my distance,” Wyatt said.
“That ship might’ve already sailed,” Dade retorted, and his defenses seemed like they were flaring.
To be fair, Wyatt stood there glaring at the guy like a matador waving a red flag at a bull.
“There was an item found near the site, which links the incident to Meg’s past,” Wyatt informed him. Either way, he wasn’t inclined to accept help from anyone in that family.
“We think we can help with the investigation and at least offer protection until the case is solved.” Dade tapped the toe of his boot on the tile floor. “If you won’t take our help, she should still hear the offer and decide for herself.”
“Her place is with me,” Wyatt interrupted.
“Agreed,” Dade said. “Which is why we’d like to offer all three of you full access to one of our guest houses.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but your father was murdered on the ranch,” Wyatt stated. A twinge of regret sluiced through him the instant he saw how deeply that comment cut. Dade’s split-second reaction before he recovered was a mix of hurt and wounded pride. The man was there with a peace offering. It wasn’t his fault Maverick Mike was a jerk. Wyatt could concede that point.
“That’s correct,” Dade said.
“The sentiment is appreciated, but we’ll do all right on our own.” Wyatt glanced at Meg and her surprised reaction caught him off guard. Didn’t she trust that he could keep them safe? “We’re done here.”
“Suit yourself, but if you change your mind my number is on that card I gave you,” Dade said.
Dade seemed like a stand-up guy. Wyatt had to give it to him. But he could take care of his family without the help of a Butler.
Wyatt excused the three of them and headed to the truck, realizing that the sheriff had set them up.
Frustration barreled through him, but he needed to keep it in check in front of the baby.
Once inside the truck, Meg said in a reverent tone, “Mary Jane’s family deserves to finally know what happened to her.”
“At least they have answers. They have closure,” Wyatt said. His personal affairs paled in comparison to the thought of losing a child, but he understood closure. He’d never gotten it from Maverick Mike. “I let her down.” The look she shot him said that didn’t matter. And that guilt would keep her from moving forward with anyone in her life. She’d never stop blaming herself for what had happened and she would always construct walls to keep people out.
“I said it once and I’ll say it again. You were a kid.” He caught her gaze and held it. Wyatt told himself the only reason he cared about Meg keeping everyone at a distance was for Aubrey’s sake, but there was more to it than that. It was wounded pride that had him wanting her to open up a little more. Being with her brought up feelings he didn’t want to acknowledge, didn’t want to have for anyone.
His cell buzzed again. It was no doubt work related. He was distracted and letting things slip.
After parking at the hotel, he said, “I’ll be right up.”
Meg nodded. “I’ll feed the baby and put her down for a nap.”
As she closed the door, he checked the screen on his cell keeping one eye on her until she was safely inside the building.
There were several texts from his lawyer, Alexander Kegel. Rather than spend time texting, Wyatt called Alexander.
His lawyer picked up on the first ring. After perfunctory greetings, he said, “The shell corporation that owns the lake house is impenetrable. How much time and resource do you want to spend on this?”
“Keep digging,” Wyatt instructed, which meant until the lawyer found something.
“Got it,” Alexander said. “Also, I’m taking the city of Bay to court over the construction block and refusal to issue permits.”
“On that one, retreat.” Having a foothold in Bay wasn�
��t as important to him now that he had a daughter. He had other priorities. “One town over, Centreville, has reached out. Let’s change course. The Centreville location is still close enough the current employees will be able to commute and keep their jobs. I dug into the data last night and it turns out many of them live closer to Centreville than they do to Bay anyway. It makes more sense to go where we’re wanted and appreciated.”
“I’ll get on the phone with Ladd as soon as we hang up,” Alexander said. Hazel Ladd was the head of construction for Tiko Taco Limited.
“Good. I don’t want the men standing around waiting for permits that may or may not come,” Wyatt said. He’d always been the decisive, cut-his-losses type. “Let’s keep them on the clock and working so they can continue to put food on the table for their families.”
“We’ll make it happen. Is there a specific location you’re looking at?” Alexander asked.
“There’s land for sale a block off the downtown area. Check into that first and make sure we have the right zoning to ease the transition,” he instructed.
“Done. What else?” Alexander was his make-it-happen guy and an important part of his business. Their relationship worked because they kept it professional.
There was no gray area, no confusion.
“That’s all for now.” Keeping emotions out of their exchanges was the reason they worked so well together.
He’d hold on to that thought when it came to Meg.
Because his emotions had him wanting to run his finger down her generous curves and see if she still mewled with pleasure when he grazed a trail up her neck with his tongue.
With everything on the line between them, that was just dangerous and stupid.
Maintaining a safe distance was the only logical move.
Chapter Eleven
The air outside had been cold and gusty.
The baby had been fussy while Wyatt was in his truck. Did she miss her father? The thought was illogical, Meg knew that, but not entirely impossible. Right?
The boogeyman who had been haunting Meg for eighteen years had a name. Clayton Glass. The worst part? An internet search hadn’t revealed any photos or information about him. The only thing she knew for certain was that he hadn’t been the one to try to abduct Aubrey.
So, who was it?
Wyatt walked inside the suite and tension sat thickly between them.
On top of that, Meg’s throat hurt and she sneezed five times in a row. It was probably just allergies with all the wind blowing every possible allergen into the area, but Meg couldn’t be certain and she didn’t want to risk getting the baby sick if she was going down herself.
“Do you mind holding her for a second?” Meg asked Wyatt, handing over their daughter. He took the baby from her, cradling Aubrey in his arms, looking more at ease than the last time. If Wyatt had been irresistible before, he’d jumped into a whole new stratosphere now while holding the infant against his muscled chest in such a contrast between innocence and strength.
Meg knew from experience just what his skin felt like, silk over steel. And her fingertips had reacted to grazing his skin as she’d handed over the baby.
His fierce, protective look only enhanced her attraction to him—an attraction that had no business distracting her at the moment.
“I’ve been reviewing my most heated cases from the past six months.” She retrieved her laptop and moved onto the couch next to him. Another sneeze and she scooted to the opposite end. She cleared her throat and tried to speak again. “Hold on.”
Meg set her laptop in between them before getting up and moving into the kitchenette.
“Can I take a look?” he asked.
“Absolutely not,” she said a little too quickly.
“I wouldn’t normally ask, believe me. I respect what you do more than you can realize. But our daughter is in danger,” he continued, clearly hoping she’d have a change of heart.
After heating water in the microwave and squeezing a lemon wedge into the cup, she returned. “You’re right. Technically, only employees can read those files.”
“Hire me.” It wasn’t the worst idea.
She drummed her fingers on the side of the cup.
She sat down beside him.
“Create a board. Put me on it. That would qualify.” He was right about that.
“Okay. You’re right. I have to do whatever I can to ensure Aubrey’s safety. I’ll speak to Stephanie about the board. For now, you can fill in for her.”
He stared at the screen for a long moment. “Why didn’t you go to the police before?”
“About which part exactly? I get threats in this line of work,” she said.
“Between those and men hitting on you, I’m not sure...” He didn’t finish and it looked like anger was getting the best of him. And there was another emotion present. It looked a lot like jealousy.
Meg dismissed it as her imagination taking over or some maternal desire wishing for more from Wyatt, like a happy family. And the only reason she wished for that was for Aubrey’s sake. Plus, her hormones hadn’t readjusted.
Moving on.
She cradled the warm cup in her hands.
“How do you deal with this kind of abuse on a daily basis?” There was so much anger and indignation in his voice.
“It’s just part of the job,” she admitted on a shrug. “I fight against bullies. They push back.”
“No one should have to put up with this, let alone you. You’re a decent person, despite what this idiot thinks.” He motioned toward the screen.
She suppressed a chuckle. “Those people are the reason my job is so important.”
“What can you possibly get out of going head-to-head with...jerks...who can’t even spell your name correctly?”
“I don’t do it for them. Most of them are angry and used to getting their way because of it. To be honest, I’d rather they take their frustration out on me instead of my clients.” She perched on one leg. “The kids are why I do my job.” She scooted a little closer and minimized the screen to her wallpaper, which was covered in photos of smiling kids cuddling dogs or cats, or sitting on Santa’s lap wearing the biggest smiles.
“These are your clients?” he asked, and his tone was much softer now.
“Yes. They deserve to have someone fighting for them, someone who won’t be intimidated by an abusive or neglectful parent,” she said. “That’s what I do.”
“It’s one of the things I respected about you when we first met,” he said in a low rumble of a voice. “When you talked about your work your eyes sparked, and I could tell you were doing something you believed in. I’ve never met anyone else with that kind of passion.”
She didn’t remember saying much about it before. Meg always liked to keep her professional life quiet and she could never discuss details for obvious reasons. It was easier not to mention what she did. When she really thought about it, she had opened up to Wyatt about her personal life more than she had to anyone else in her past.
Stephanie knew the most about Meg’s caseload, but she’d kept her on a need-to-know basis as far as threats went. There was no reason to rile everyone up over a bully.
Wyatt maximized her email, covering the screen. “I’d like to check the list of names you gave the sheriff.”
“Most of what’s on there is just venting,” she said. “They don’t mean any of it. They’re used to having a punching bag and I’ve taken that away from them. It’s just words. They don’t mean any of it.”
It occurred to her that she’d just repeated the phrase, they don’t mean any of it. Was she trying to convince herself?
“I’m not so sure and after reading a few of these, I’d like to meet some of these—” he looked to bite back a few angry words “—people personally. Especially this one.” He pointed toward a name. Hector Findley.
“How many names did you give Sawmill?” he asked.
“Seven,” she said on a shrug, trying to pull off nonchalant.
“There are at least six more Hectors?” Wyatt’s full lips thinned.
Aubrey stirred.
“We shouldn’t talk about this in front of her,” Meg said. “I read somewhere that babies are constantly reading our moods. If she feels tension every time we talk, she might think we’re not getting along.”
Wyatt glanced down at the baby and then his gaze bounced back to Meg. “We can do better than that.”
* * *
“IS SHE ASLEEP?” Wyatt asked as Meg entered the kitchenette. A half hour had passed since Meg had disappeared into the baby’s room to put her down for a nap. He poured a cup of coffee and handed it to her.
“Yes, thankfully.” Babies must have a sixth sense about when their parents needed to talk or get something important done, because every time Meg needed her daughter to sleep the little girl fussed instead.
Wyatt moved to the table, sat down and repositioned the screen on her laptop so that both of them could see. “I’ve narrowed it down to three names I think pose an actual threat.”
He pointed toward the first.
“We already mentioned him.” Hector. “Tell me more about his case.”
“I can’t do that without violating confidences,” she warned. “It would be unethical. Besides I’ve already overlooked your digging into the files without my permission.”
“Protecting your cases is important. You don’t have to tell me specifics. Just why these men are writing threatening emails,” he said.
“Because when I testify they’ll lose people they view as their possessions,” she stated matter-of-factly. “In Hector’s case, he repeatedly hit his common-law wife in front of her daughter. My client is nine, Wyatt. He told her that he’d hunt them down and make her watch him kill her mother if they left him. Her mother said that he always feels bad later and that’s why she stayed with him. He’d cry and tell her that he was going to get help. And then he’d be really nice to her and my client. The peace usually lasted a month, sometimes two, before something would set him off again. The mother felt like it was partly her fault. She grew up in an abusive household and came to expect it from a relationship. They’d fight. He’d go out drinking, wake the house up when he got home and repeat the cycle of abuse all over again.”