by Rita Herron
Brett reached out and covered her hand with his. “We will find him, I promise. And I’ll make sure whoever abducted him pays.”
She desperately wanted to believe him.
“There’s something I have to ask you, Willow.”
A knot seized her stomach at his tone. “What?”
“Where were you earlier today?”
Willow tensed. “Why? You don’t think I shot Leo, do you?”
He hesitated, long enough to make her think that he had considered the possibility. That hurt.
“No,” he finally said. “But I have to ask, because the police will.”
Willow sucked in a sharp breath. “I did errands, had to drop off some of my orders. Sam was staying with my neighbor Gina, but apparently Leo picked him up.” That sick feeling hit her again.
“This other woman can corroborate your story?”
Willow pinched her lips together, angry. “Yes, Brett.”
Would she need a more solid alibi to prove that she hadn’t killed her husband?
* * *
THE PAIN IN Willow’s eyes made Brett strengthen his resolve to help her. “Do you have any idea who abducted Sam?”
She shook her head, her hair falling like a curtain around her face. “I didn’t recognize the man’s voice. And he wore a ski mask.”
“You said that Leo didn’t have a bank account? Where did he keep his money?”
Willow traced her finger along the rim of her glass. “He kept cash in a safe when he lived with me. But he cleaned that out when he left.”
“It seems odd that a businessman wouldn’t have had bank accounts, maybe even a financial advisor.”
“I thought so, too, but he just got defensive every time I mentioned it.”
Brett rocked the swing back and forth with his feet. “Where did he go when he moved out?”
“I don’t know.”
“He didn’t send child support?”
“No. And I was okay with that. When he left, I was so glad to have him out of my life, out of Sam’s life, that I didn’t want anything from him.”
Brett willed his temper in check. The McCullen men had been raised to protect women, and to honor them. No man ever laid a hand on a woman or child.
“How bad was it?” he asked gruffly.
Willow sighed wearily. “At first it was just arguments. He wanted to control everything, from the money I spent, to how I took care of the house. I stood my ground, and he didn’t like it.”
“Good for you.”
A small smile tilted her mouth. “He was nice in the beginning, Brett, but he changed once we married. Nothing I did was right. And he was always traveling and refused to tell me where he was going.”
“You think he was having an affair?”
Willow shrugged. “It wouldn’t have surprised me.”
Brett contemplated that idea. What if Leo had been seeing another woman and she had killed him?
Still, why would that woman abduct Sam?
Unless she thought Willow had Leo’s money.
“Tell me about his business,” Brett said. “What did Leo do for a living?”
“When we first met, he said he’d made it big with some investment, something about mining uranium.”
Made sense. Wyoming was rich in rare earth elements and mining.
“Did he say how much money he made? Thousands? A million?”
Willow bit down on her lip. “No. He just said he’d—we’d—be taken care of for life.”
Brett considered the small house where Willow lived. “If he had so much money, why were you living in that little place?”
Willow frowned. “I moved there after Leo left. I wanted a fresh start.”
“Where was your other house?”
“Cheyenne,” Willow said. “But it was a rental, too. He said he was holding out to buy a big spread and build his dream house. But he never started anything.”
“Did he have a business card? Or was there a business associate he mentioned?”
“No.” Willow’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry. I’m not being much help.”
She obviously hadn’t known much about her husband, which seemed odd to him. Willow had always been honest, trusting, and she valued family but she was also cautious because her father had had problems.
So why had she been charmed by Leo? Had his money appealed to her?
That also didn’t fit with the Willow he’d known.
“Did Leo have any family? A sister? Brother? Parents?”
“No,” Willow said. “He lost both his parents.” Willow leaned against the back of the porch swing, her face ashen. “Looking back, Brett, I feel like I didn’t know Leo at all.”
Brett tossed back the rest of his whiskey. “You’re exhausted now, but maybe tomorrow you’ll remember more.”
If he was lucky, he’d find something in the house to add insight into Willow’s dead husband.
Knowing more about him might clue them in to the reason for his death.
He patted Willow’s hand. “Go inside and try to get some sleep.”
“How can I sleep when I don’t know where Sam is? He must be scared...and what if he’s hurt? What if that man did something to him?”
Brett cupped her face with his hands. “Listen to me, Willow. If this man wanted something from Leo, and he didn’t get it, he’s going to use Sam as leverage. So if we figure out what kind of trouble Leo was in, we can figure out how to save your son.”
He coaxed her to stand. “Try to rest until he calls with his demands.”
Willow glanced down at his hand. “Are you staying here?”
He wanted to. But that would be too tempting.
“No. I’ll run back to the farmhouse to shower. I’ll bring you some breakfast in a little while, then we can stop by your house for some of your things.”
He opened the door and ushered her inside. “Now lock up. You’ll be safe here. And when the kidnapper calls, phone me and I’ll come right over.”
Her golden eyes flickered with fear, but she nodded and slipped inside. He waited until he heard the door lock, then hurried to his truck before he went inside and crawled in bed with her.
Tension thrummed through him as he drove back to the farmhouse and parked.
Just as he let himself inside the house, Maddox was jogging down the steps. His gaze roved over Brett’s dirt-stained clothes, a disapproving scowl stretching his mouth into a thin line.
“We just buried our father, and you went out partying, huh?” Maddox muttered. “Some things never change, do they?”
Brett bit his tongue to keep from a retort.
Unable to tell him the truth, he let his brother believe the lesser of the evils, pasted on a cocky grin like he would after an all-night drunk and climbed the steps to his old room.
If his brother knew that he’d buried a murdered man on McCullen land, he’d lock him up and never talk to him again.
Chapter Six
Too on edge to sleep, Brett showered, anxious to wash the stench of Leo’s dead body off him.
But all the soap in the world couldn’t erase the memory of what he’d done.
He envisioned the headlines—Rodeo Star Brett McCullen Arrested for Covering Up a Murder, for Tampering with Evidence in a Homicide...
The list could go on and on.
If—no, when—it was revealed that he and Willow shared a past, people might think that the two of them had plotted to kill her husband so they could be together.
Perspiration beaded on his neck as he buttoned his shirt.
The only way to make sure the two of them weren’t charged was to find out who had killed Leo. Then they could recover Willow’s little boy and turn the situation over to Maddox.
He dressed in jeans, fastened his belt and yanked on his cowboy boots. Then he packed a duffel bag of clothes in case he needed to stay with Willow and stowed them in his Range Rover.
His eyes felt bleary from lack of sleep, but he couldn’t rest right now. He had to find some ans
wers.
Willow and her little boy were depending on him.
The first place he would start was Leo’s truck. It had been left in Willow’s drive. Maybe there was something inside it that would give him a lead.
The scent of strong coffee and bacon wafted through the air as he entered the dining room. Mama Mary was humming a gospel song in the kitchen, but she had set out coffee and juice along with hot biscuits, bacon and eggs on the sideboard.
He poured himself a mug of coffee, then made a breakfast sandwich and wolfed it down. She ambled in just as he was finishing, her eyes probing his.
“How you doing this morning, Mr. Brett?”
He and his brothers always said Mama Mary had eyes in the back of her head, and a sixth sense that told her when one of them had been bad. She was giving him that look this morning.
He shrugged. “Okay.”
“Hmm-hmm.”
If guilt wasn’t pressing against his chest so badly he would have chuckled. “It’s hard being back here without Dad,” he said, hoping she’d think his grief was all that was eating at him.
“I know. We’re all gonna miss your daddy.” She patted his shoulder and poured him another cup of coffee. “Best remember that and take care to make up with the ones still on this side of the ground.”
He understood her not-so-subtle message.
Unfortunately his actions the night before would only create a bigger chasm and garner more disapproval from his older brother. He never could measure up to Maddox.
She cleared his plate. “Maddox wanted to check the fence on the west side before he went to the sheriff’s office.”
How Maddox handled being in the office and the ranch was beyond Brett. But then again, Maddox was the one who could do it all and make it look easy at the same time.
Hadn’t his father told him that a million times?
“You know Maddox got engaged to this pretty lady named Rose?” Mama Mary said with a sparkle in her eye.
Brett nodded. “Is that her name?”
“Yeah, she’s a sweetheart. Owns the antique store in town where Willow sells her quilts. Poor Rose had some trouble a while back, but Maddox handled it for her.”
“I’m sure he did.” He didn’t mean to sound surly, but his tone bordered on sarcastic.
Mama Mary gave him a chiding look, and he grabbed one of the to-go mugs on the sideboard, filled it with coffee, wrapped an extra biscuit and bacon in a napkin for Willow and gave Mama Mary a peck on the cheek.
“Thanks for breakfast. I haven’t had biscuits like that since I left here.”
She grinned with pride, and he hurried away before she asked him where he was going. He could lie to Maddox, but it was harder to lie to Mama Mary because she could see right through him.
Wind stirred dust around his boots, and the temperature had dropped twenty degrees overnight. As he drove across the ranch, the beauty of the land struck him along with memories of riding with his brothers as a kid. The campouts and cattle drives. The horseshoe contests and trick riding.
When he’d left Pistol Whip, he’d been young and eager for travels, to see new places, to escape the routine of ranch life, and he’d enjoyed the different towns and women.
This morning, though, the land looked peaceful. The women’s faces a blur.
There was only one woman he’d ever really cared about, and that was Willow.
By the time he reached her place, worry for her son dominated his mind.
Knowing Willow must be frantic, he scanned the outside of her rental house and the property when he arrived. Everything appeared as he’d left it the night before.
Leo’s truck was still parked on the lawn, the little boy’s bike mangled.
He yanked on a pair of work gloves to keep from leaving fingerprints, then climbed out and walked over to the truck. For a man who supposedly had landed a windfall, the truck was old and shabby looking. Barring a few tools, the truck bed was empty.
The door to the cab was unlocked, as if the man had gotten out in a hurry. Brett slipped inside and checked the seat. Nothing.
No papers, computer or cell phone. No gun.
He opened the glove compartment and found a wallet with a driver’s license and a hundred dollars in cash.
He didn’t find an insurance card, but found a tiny slip of paper with a name and phone number.
It was a woman’s name. Doris Benedict.
Brett’s instincts kicked in. If Leo had another woman on the side, maybe she’d killed him.
He jammed the paper in his pocket. It was a place to start.
* * *
WILLOW DOZED TO SLEEP but dreamed of her little boy and Brett, and woke up in a sweat.
In the dream, Sam looked so much like his father sitting on that horse that it nearly took her breath away and resurrected memories of watching Brett at the rodeo when he was eighteen.
She’d fallen in love with him that day. He’d looked so handsome with his thick hair glinting in the sunlight. When he’d turned his flirtatious smile on her, she hadn’t been able to resist.
She had been alone so long. Dubbed poor white trash because her father had been a mean drunk and she was motherless. The very reason she’d been determined to be a good mother to Sam.
But now he was missing because she’d been fooled by Leo’s promises and wound up marrying a mean drunk herself.
But that day Brett had made her feel so special...not like poor trash. All the other girls at the rodeo wanted Brett McCullen, the up-and-coming rodeo star.
But after he’d received his buckle for winning, he’d walked over to her and kissed her right in front of the crowd.
How could she not have fallen in love with him?
It didn’t matter.
Brett hadn’t wanted her the past few years. He had plenty of women. And he certainly didn’t intend to stay in Pistol Whip and settle down.
She had done the right thing. If she’d told Brett she was pregnant five years ago, he might have stuck around, but he would have resented her. And that would have destroyed their love.
She found some coffee in the kitchen and brewed a pot, then carried a mug and her phone to the front porch and sat down, praying it would ring with news about how to get Sam back.
* * *
BRETT DROVE BACK to the cabin, anxious to check on Willow. Hopefully the kidnapper would phone today with his demands.
But if Willow didn’t have the money, what did they want?
Willow was sitting on the porch, sipping coffee and looking so damn lost and pained that his lungs squeezed for air. He’d do anything to make her happy again.
But the only way to do that was to put her son back in her arms.
He parked, then carried the biscuit in one hand as he walked up to the porch.
He handed her the food. “Any word?”
She unwrapped the biscuit, although she rewrapped it as if she couldn’t eat. That, and the desolate look in her eyes, told him all he needed to know.
“I searched Leo’s truck and found a woman’s name scribbled on a slip of paper. Doris Benedict. Do you know her?”
“No. Who is she?” Willow ran a hand through her hair, the wavy strands tangling as the wind picked them up and whipped them around her face. Winter was blowing in to Pistol Whip with its cold and gusty windstorms.
“I don’t know,” Brett said. “But maybe she knows something about Leo that can help us.”
Willow rose from the porch swing, her face even more pale in the early morning light. “I’ll go with you.”
“Are you sure? We don’t know what we’ll find—what her relationship with Leo was.”
“I don’t care if they were lovers,” Willow said staunchly. “I was done with Leo a long time ago. But if she can help us find Sam, I have to talk to her.”
Brett gave a clipped nod. She’d been done with Leo a long time ago—had she loved him, though?
At one time he’d thought she loved him. But when he’d left town, she’d com
pletely cut him out of her life.
She disappeared inside the cabin and returned a moment later with her purse over her shoulder. But she kept her phone clutched in one hand. Her fingers were wrapped so tightly around it that they looked white.
She didn’t look at him as she started down the steps. “Let’s go.”
Brett followed her, climbed in the truck and started the engine, the tension between them thick with unanswered questions as he drove toward the woman’s address.
Doris Benedict lived in Laramie, in a stone duplex on the outskirts of town. Dry scrub brush and weeds choked the tiny yard. No children’s toys outside, so she must not have kids. Although the duplex didn’t look fancy or expensive, a fairly new dark green sedan sat in the drive.
Brett and Willow walked together to the front door. Willow folded her arms while he buzzed the doorbell. A car engine rumbled from next door while voices from another neighbor herding her kids out to the bus stop echoed in the wind.
He punched the doorbell again, and a woman’s voice shouted from inside that she was coming. A second later, the door opened, and a young woman with a bad dye job and sparkling earrings that dangled to her shoulders stood on the other side.
He guessed her age to be about thirty-four, although she had the ruddy skin of a heavy smoker, so she could have been younger.
Her flirtatious smile flitted over him. “You’re that rodeo star?”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Brett McCullen.”
When her gaze roved from him to Willow, her ruby-red lips formed a frown. “What do you want?”
Brett narrowed his eyes at the contempt in her voice.
“My name is Willow James, um, Willow Howard—”
“I know who you are.” Doris reached for the door as if to slam it in their faces, but Brett caught it with one hand.
Willow looked stunned. “How do you know me?”
Doris removed a cigarette from the pack in the pocket of her too-tight jeans. “Leo married you.”
Brett frowned. “How do you know Leo, Ms. Benedict?”
The woman angled her face toward him, her eyes menacing. “He and I dated a while back.”
“How far back?” Brett asked.
She lit her cigarette, tilted her head back and inhaled a drag, then glared at Willow. “About five years. I thought we were going to get hitched, but then he married you.”