Most of the lights were off in the pawnshop, and it was barely bright enough for them to navigate through the racks of old guitars and outdated DVDs. The place beckoned of lost paths and sadness.
An old man sat behind a long glass counter in the back of the store. Inside the display case was a collection of handguns and expensive jewelry. It struck Waylon as funny that the guns didn’t really seem out of place next to the pawned wedding bands—rings that had likely been sold by those who’d had their hearts destroyed.
Or maybe that was just his pain talking.
“How y’all doin’?” the guy behind the counter asked as he stood up from the bar stool. He had gray hair and a barrel chest, and though he was crooked from the ravages of age, he stood at least six and a half feet tall. Beneath him, the little wooden bar stool teetered as if it feared the man would sit down on it again.
“Doin’ real well, Herb. We appreciate you giving us a call.” Wyatt shook the man’s hand and motioned toward them. “This is my brother and his girlfriend, Christina. Actually, it was Christina’s ring that was reported stolen.”
Waylon tried to pretend he didn’t notice the look of surprise on Christina’s face at Wyatt’s introduction.
“Ah,” the guy said, looking her up and down. “That ring is almost as pretty as its owner.” He whistled through the gap in his front teeth.
Christina looked away, suddenly passive in the presence of the man.
“Did you purchase the ring, Herb?” Waylon asked, trying to help Christina escape what could become the man’s full-court press.
Herb reached under the counter and pulled out a receipt book, the kind that most stores didn’t seem to use anymore, but that were common in parts of the world where internet service and sometimes even cell phones were a luxury. “The guy was selling quite a few things. A few pieces of artwork and two rings.” He tapped the receipt as he spoke.
“The guy? The person who came in and sold you the ring was a guy?” Christina asked, shock filling her voice.
Waylon was just as surprised as Christina. There had been no talk of any man in Alli’s life except William Poe. Was it possible that William had been the man here selling things? It seemed like a long shot. William would never stick his neck out, not now when so many people were watching him.
“What did the man look like? Was he a business type?” Wyatt asked. He must have been thinking about William as well.
Herb waved him off. “No. The guy was hefty, big belly, and long, greasy hair. Nice, liked to chat, but I have a feeling it’s because he spends a lot of time on his own. If I remember correct, he mighta said he was a trucker.”
“A trucker?” Waylon glanced over at his brother, who gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod. “By chance did you manage to catch the guy’s name?”
Herb shook his head. “Can’t remember the guy’s name off the top of my head, but I got a little card with some information.”
Waylon had to reach deep as he tried to recall the name of the trucker they’d met at the pullout where Alli’s car was found. “Does the name Daryl sound familiar?”
Was it possible the man was more involved than he had let them believe? Had he been helping Alli ever since he found her along the side of the road? Or that he had known Alli even before he’d picked her up and they had been following all the wrong leads?
A thousand questions and even more possibilities came to mind—followed by a litany of mistakes Waylon had made. He had been so wrapped up in uncovering the secrets within his family and following his heart’s wants that he had managed to miss a clue that had literally stared him in the face.
On the other hand, the guy hadn’t given them much to work with, nor had he given them any indication he was more involved with Alli than he had told them. It was possible that the man who’d brought in the jewelry and art wasn’t the same guy they had met on the side of the road. Or maybe Alli had set them up and she wanted them to chase their tails.
Herb reached under his counter and took out an old metal box. Opening it up, he frowned at its contents for a moment before turning the box around for them to see. Inside the box was a gold band with a large cushion-cut diamond flanked by sapphires. It was a beautiful ring; Christina’s description had barely done it justice. Yet, as with so many things in life, being told something was a poor replacement for living it.
He glanced over at Christina. She had her hands clapped over her mouth. “How much?” she asked from between her fingers. “At least tell me how much you gave the guy for my grandmother’s ring.”
“I paid five hundred, but you guys don’t owe me a dime. I barely gave him anything for the paintings.” Herb pointed to two paintings leaning against the back wall behind the counter. They had dabs of paint here and there and looked like something Winnie could have made. “The guy who came in seemed to know a lot about the ring, but he barely knew anything about art. Those paintings are worth ten of those rings. They’re originals. I think I’m gonna go ahead and send them off to Sotheby’s for auction.”
Waylon stared at the paintings. One had a red glob surrounded by sharp black lines, and he could tell exactly why the seller had thought the thing was worthless. When it came to art, he didn’t understand why someone would be willing to pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for something they put on their wall and could just say they owned—not when they could spend that same money on living their lives and experiencing the world.
“Did he mention where he got the paintings?” Waylon asked.
“You know how it is,” Herb said with a shrug. “Some people want to tell you their whole life story, but the ones you want to hear are the ones that you don’t get. You’re lucky I even managed to get his name and address. He wanted to dicker over that as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if the information he gave me ends up being phony.” Herb reached into the metal box and handed the ring and the card beneath it over to Waylon.
Waylon stared at the name: Jeb Bush. Herb was right; the guy had definitely given him a fake name.
“Wyatt, you ever heard of Running Deer Lane?” Waylon moved the card over so his brother could see it.
Wyatt took the card and threw it down on the counter. “Yeah. The guy was full of crap, there’s no such address. Did you ask to see his driver’s license?”
“No,” Herb said, shaking his head. “But I did manage to get his license plate number before he drove off.”
Finally, they had a tie to Alli—hopefully they could get to her before anyone got hurt.
Chapter Fifteen
Five hundred dollars. Not only had her sister murdered, but she had also stolen from her and pawned a symbol of what little was left of their family, and she had done it for five hundred dollars. A lump rose in Christina’s throat, and though she shouldn’t have let this hurt, she couldn’t help but succumb to the lashes of her sister’s actions.
Perhaps Alli was on drugs. It wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed her mind, but she always tried to have a little bit more faith that her sister would make better decisions. Looking back, though, she felt like a fool. Maybe if she just started thinking the worst of her sister, then she would no longer be surprised or agonize when Alli did the things she did.
Christina twisted her grandmother’s ring around her finger. It was a little tight for the ring finger on her right hand, but until she could put it back in its box and get it tucked away somewhere Alli would never find it, she could think of no better place than her own hand to keep it safe. It was funny. She could protect things by keeping them close to her—everything except her feelings.
Wyatt was across the parking lot, running the plates in his squad car. Tiny, almost ash-like snowflakes fell from the sky and, as the wind picked up, scattered like secrets throughout the small town.
The thought of secrets and the power they wielded made Chris
tina rub the ring finger on her left hand. Her sister’s secrets had nearly cost them everything—even a chance at a future.
She glanced down at the ring as a snowflake drifted down and melted on the surface of the diamond. She thought about slipping the ring off and putting it on her other hand, feeling the weight of the engagement ring and what it had the potential to mean—loyalty, fidelity, love, trust and being loved forever by the man of her dreams.
She glanced up and caught Waylon looking at her.
“You all right?” Waylon asked, nodding toward her hand. “I’m sure she was just desperate. You know, selling the ring and all. And when people are desperate, they do desperate things.”
“I know. It’s just that...” As she looked over at him, her thoughts moved to him between her legs, looking down at her with something that was well beyond lust—and a lot like love.
“Just what?” Waylon moved closer but stopped short, almost as though he wasn’t sure whether or not he should come any closer.
“I’m not a wild dog. I’m not going to bite,” she said, but even as she spoke, she knew it had come off just like a snip. The look on his face confirmed her fears. “Sorry, I’m not upset with you. It’s just...well, I wish Alli would just stop doing what she’s doing. It’s almost like everything she is doing and trying, she is doing to hurt me and her daughter. I just can’t figure out what I did to her that would make her want to hurt me like this. All I ever did was try to help her. I came here for her. I agreed to take her daughter. All I ever wanted to do was be the best sister I could. We were all we had for each other...” She tried to continue, but she couldn’t get any more words past the lump in her throat.
Waylon rushed over to her and pulled her into his arms. His chin rested on her head as she let him hold her. It was all too much. Being with him. Losing Alli. Fighting for Winnie. Being strong...all the time. For this moment, and just this moment, she let herself be weak.
Sometimes the soul needed a moment of weakness so a person could really appreciate its moments of strength.
Waylon rubbed her back as she laid her head against his chest. It felt so good to be held by him. Being with him was what she hadn’t known she was missing, but now that she realized it, she couldn’t imagine him being anywhere else but with her. She didn’t have a clue what she was going to do with herself once he was gone. Things could never go back to the way they were—and once again, her life would be in flux.
When would life just be? Why did everything have to be a fight? Why couldn’t she just have what she wanted—a future with him?
She sucked in a long breath as she tried to take back control over her feelings. Right now, she couldn’t dwell on them. There was too much to lose and too much at risk to start wallowing in a land of what-ifs.
She pulled out of Waylon’s arms just as Wyatt stepped out of his car and made his way over to them.
“Everything all right, Christina?” Wyatt asked, his face filled with concern.
Of course he would be worried. As long as they had known each other, he had never seen her fall into the arms of a man in a moment of need, but if the events of late had taught her anything, it was that anything was possible—even the things she feared the most.
“I’m fine,” she said, attempting to swallow back the lump in her throat. “What did you find out?”
“We ran the plate numbers and it looks like the truck does, in fact, belong to Daryl,” Wyatt said. “You guys want to run over there and question him with me?”
“Let’s go. If Daryl knows where we can find Alli, maybe we can have her in custody by this afternoon.”
“And you can hit the road?” Even Christina heard the acidic tone as it burned away any softness from her voice.
Waylon reached toward her, but she stepped away from his touch. His eyes widened, and he looked shocked and confused by her refusal. Instead of falling victim to that look—the look that said he needed her—she forced herself to turn away.
Wyatt’s phone rang, and he motioned for them to hold on for a second as he answered it. “What’s up, babe?”
A fast and erratic woman’s voice came through the speaker—Christina assumed it was Gwen, but she couldn’t quite make out the words. Wyatt’s face blanched as she spoke.
“No...” he said, almost on an exhale. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. I’m sure she’s okay. How did she get her?”
Get who? She glanced over at Waylon, and his mouth was pinched and a storm raged in his eyes. “He’s not talking about Winnie, is he?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
Wyatt leaned against the front of the pawnshop and ran his hand over his face.
“Don’t worry. I’m on my way. We’ll get her back. Come hell or high water, we will find Winnie.” Wyatt looked up at Christina, and this time there were tears in his eyes—tears that made her entire body go numb.
* * *
WINNIE WAS GONE, stolen from Gwen’s care. One minute she had been safe at home, and the next she had simply disappeared.
Waylon had promised Christina they would keep her safe, yet he had let Alli take her—and if anything happened to her, he wasn’t sure he would be able to live with himself. He’d known he was a father for a day, and as already culpable in letting his little girl fall into the wrong hands.
Christina had been right in thinking him incapable of being someone’s father. In fact, he shouldn’t have even had the right to call Winnie his daughter. He didn’t deserve something that good in his life.
Wyatt had gone straight over to his house to get Gwen, who had grown more and more hysterical over the phone. He could imagine how bad she was feeling right now, but no matter how badly he wanted to push the blame on her for what had happened, he couldn’t blame anyone but himself. He shouldn’t have let Winnie leave his side, yet instead of taking her under his wing, he had let others care for her.
He glanced over at Christina as he drove toward the address Wyatt had given them for the trucker. Christina’s face was steely, and she was staring out of the truck with such intensity he wondered how the glass wasn’t melting. She was being strong—and that was exactly what he needed to be as well.
This couldn’t be about emotions. From now until Winnie was found, they could only focus on the things they could control. They should only have one objective—to get Winnie back. After that, he and Christina could focus on Alli and perhaps talk about a future, but as it was, there was no way he could think about the needs of his heart. Not when it was utterly broken at the thoughts of what his daughter was possibly facing.
“Alli would never do anything to hurt Winnie,” he said, trying to not only make Christina feel better but to reassure himself as well.
Christina didn’t even bat an eyelash. “Sure. Of course she wouldn’t.” Her voice was flat and emotionless.
He could handle her display of emotions so much better than her arctic front.
“I’m so sorry about this, Christina,” he said, trying again to comfort her.
This time she glanced over at him, and the chill in her voice had overtaken her gaze as well. Some of the iciness penetrated his core and seeped into his heart.
“I told you this was going to happen. I told you Winnie wasn’t safe. We should have brought her with us.”
He didn’t want to bring up the fact that they had been busy doing other things—things that would have never happened if they had a child with them—but he stopped himself. She hated him. Bringing up anything that had happened between them would be disastrous. In truth, he didn’t blame her. He hated himself just as much for what he had allowed, albeit passively, to happen to Winnie.
“You’re right,” he said, submitting himself to her derision. He deserved whatever punishment she wished to deliver. “I never should have let her out of my sight. No matter how bad you are feeling right now
, just know I’m feeling a thousand times worse. I know this is my fault. I was stupid to think Gwen could have kept her safe. Alli knows too much about the ranch and Gwen’s movements. If I’d trusted my gut, none of this would have ever happened.”
“Maybe everything...everything has been a huge mistake.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “You have to know that’s not what I meant. What you and I shared last night—”
“Was stupid,” she said, finishing his sentence. “If we just hadn’t lost focus, none of this would have happened.” She glared over at him, and her lip twitched with anger. “I told you almost the second you set foot on the ranch that Winnie was, and will always be, my primary concern. I am her guardian. You coming here put her at risk.”
“My coming here has nothing to do with your sister coming back and kidnapping Winnie. And what happened between you and me wasn’t stupid. You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it just as much as me. You are hurt and angry. I get that. But don’t forget we’re on the same side.”
“We are not on the same side. We’ve never been on the same side.”
She was pissed, and she had every right to be, but she was wrong. Yet trying to argue with her would be futile.
He could only watch and listen as she attempted to shatter the bond they shared.
He’d always been one to be the hero, to save those who needed saving and help people through their darkest moments, but he hadn’t had a clue that when he came back to Montana he would be facing his own personal version of hell.
All he could do was hope that he would be able to save Winnie. If she got hurt, or if Alli made some stupid decision, he would let his rage take over. He would no longer be a hero—he would be a man thirsty for vengeance.
“Winnie is going to be fine. They are going to start searching the ranch. For all we know she’s still there. Safe and sound.” He said it aloud, but the words sounded muted, like they were coming from the other side of the glass.
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