Lone Star Redemption

by Colleen Thompson

Why was he distancing himself from her again like this? “You know darned well I’m not here as a reporter. I never really was, even before I got myself fired.”

  She forced herself to take a chance, smiling at a man whose hot-and cold-running behavior she couldn’t get a handle on. But who else did she have here, or anywhere, to help her? “So how about the word of a woman who could really use a friend? Will you accept that? Or shall I try my luck in Marston, after all?”

  * * *

  As Zach walked Jessie to the office so he could look up Margie Hunter’s phone number, he said, “So you never told me. What happened with the job?”

  She winced. “Poked the wrong dragon, a really rich one, and lost a game of chicken with the woman sleeping with him.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Story of my life,” she said with an offhand shrug.

  But he could sense the still-fresh wounds she was hiding, maybe because he had so much scar tissue of his own. Hers, however, weren’t the kind that came from engaging with the enemy, but the more painful type inflicted by someone supposed to be on her side.

  Before he could say more, a chiming sound from her phone interrupted. She pulled the phone from her pocket. “I’d better check to see if...”

  She trailed off, her eyes widening and the color draining from her face as she read.

  “What is it?”

  Continuing to stare at the phone, she muttered, “That certainly didn’t take long.”

  “Your expert already?”

  She blew out a shaky breath. “I wish.” Grimacing, she passed him the phone. “Go ahead and take a look.”

  He took the cell phone from her, tilting it to read the screen. To read the text message from a sender identified only as “Unknown Caller.” The words were as simple as they were brutal, an all-caps message bristling with malice: LEAVE BEFORE THE SUN SETS. TWO CAN DISAPPEAR AS WELL AS ONE. No wonder she’d gone so pale.

  Zach’s eyes met hers. “Who saw you on the way here? Who knew you were coming?”

  She shook her head. “No one, really, with my mom gone, and I don’t have a boss to report to. But maybe somebody spotted me on the road as I drove here.”

  “Did you notice anyone? Any particular cars?”

  She thought for a minute before shaking her head. “I remember thinking how light the traffic was, compared to where I came from. There were only a few vehicles, mostly trucks, on the road. Can’t say as I remember anything suspicious, certainly not anyone who seemed to be tailing me or watching too intently. Don’t know how they’d recognize me, anyway, since I’m not driving my own vehicle and the windows are all tinted.”

  “Not the windshield,” he said. “That’d be illegal in this state.”

  “True, but I honestly didn’t notice anybody in particular. Just a bunch of hats—cowboy hats and gimme caps—on drivers. And half of them were wearing sunglasses to cut the glare.”

  “Well, that narrows it down,” he said irritably. “You’ve just described ninety percent of the people on the road around here.”

  She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s just a stupid anonymous threat. Believe me, I’ve seen plenty of them as a reporter. Happens every time I start making people nervous.”

  “Well, this one makes me nervous,” he said, knowing it had bothered her, too, far more than she was saying. “You were shot last time you came here.”

  “Believe me, I’m not likely to forget that,” she said, heartbreak shadowing her gaze. But a moment later, she recovered. “You have to understand, this kind of thing’s gotten so common in news reporting. The station consulted with some expert in assessing the seriousness of the messages. He’d probably rate this one a yellow, at best. It’s not serious.”

  “So you’re just going to ignore it?”

  “When you were in the Afghan theater,” she asked, “did you marines pack up and go home every time the enemy tried to scare you off with anonymous threats?”

  “Hell, no, but that was war,” he reminded her.

  “This isn’t so much different,” she said. “Only I expect there might be fewer people shooting at me here. And Gretel’s got my back.”

  “Gretel can’t stop bullets.”

  “A good attack dog can take a man down faster than he can pull the trigger. And Gretel here’s the best.”

  Zach couldn’t help but smile, admiring Jessie’s bluster. She had to be scared as hell, but she clearly wasn’t backing down. Or letting him believe she would. But despite the tough-girl attitude, he’d already seen the real Jessie. The one who had been scared sick to think she might be going home with a collection of bones rather than a troubled sister.

  “I hope you’re right about this,” he said before somewhere behind him, a shrill voice called his name. Turning to look, he spotted his mama hurrying his way, her thin arms crossed to wrap herself more tightly in the light sweater she had thrown on to come outside. Aside from the occasional errand and her weekly hair appointments, she mostly confined herself to indoors, preferring to call his cell phone or send someone to find him when she needed something.

  What had happened at the house that she would run out here looking for him?

  “Mama?” he asked, leaving Jessie to stride toward his mother. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing’s wrong, my dear,” she said, fingering her hair to check its arrangement. She smiled at Jessie, who was waiting politely out of earshot, while speaking quietly through clenched jaws. “Why should anything be wrong?”

  Because something’s been wrong ever since Ian died last summer...and Eden turned up on this ranch.

  “I just heard we had a guest, that’s all,” she said, peering around him to beam at Jessie. “Why don’t you invite your friend inside, dear? Surely, we can offer better entertainment than that dirty old barn.” Though his mother liked the lifestyle afforded by the family’s oil and cattle, she had never been a big fan of the sweat and grime that went with either venture.

  Zach gave her a long look, uncertain what to say. Because he realized she was far more interested in gathering information than she was in playing hostess, finding out what Haley Layton’s sister really knew.

  And he was afraid that he knew why, or at least part of the reason. The part he could only guess at scared him most of all.

  “Jessie needed a phone number, that’s all,” he said. “I’m sending her over to stay at the Hunter house if Margie has a room open.”

  Shivering with cold, his mother asked, “So Miss Layton’s in town for an extended stay, then?”

  “I didn’t ask,” he said before risking, “Guess it all depends on how long it takes to find her sister.”

  At his mother’s stricken look, he added, “Here you go, Mama. You’re cold.” He stripped off his own coat and draped it over her shoulders. “You shouldn’t be out in just a sweater. You know how this wind cuts through you.”

  “I don’t need that,” she insisted, thrusting it back to him with ice-cold hands and hurrying toward Jessie before he could stop her.

  “Miss Layton,” she said, bussing the reporter on the cheek as if she were an old friend rather than an unwelcome intruder, “I’m so sorry you’ve had to return to a place that must hold such terrible memories for you. Why don’t you come inside, please? I’ll have Althea make fresh coffee. Or there’s tea if you’d rather, even hot chocolate if you have a sweet tooth. Althea bakes the loveliest little cookies, too. I just know you’d enjoy them.”

  Zach ground his jaw, but before he could think of any way to discourage Jessie from accepting, she was smiling at his mother.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Rayford,” she said. “That’s very kind of you. I think perhaps a little tea would be just the thing to settle my stomach. I’ve had a bit of an upset, I’m afraid, seeing where—where everythin
g happened in November.”

  “Oh, you poor thing,” his mother crooned. “Please, come inside, where you can—”

  “Maybe you’d be better off getting to your room at Margie’s so you can rest up for tomorrow,” he told Jessie, prompting his mother to smite him with what he and Ian had called The Look when they were boys. It was, the way his brother told it, her only superpower, far more effective than their father’s kicks and punches.

  Too damned bad it hadn’t worked on his old man, as well, though at least he had never physically hurt her, to Zach’s knowledge. His father’s constant putdowns and browbeating, however, were another source of battering. Not that Zach or Ian had ever been able to get her to admit it.

  “Zach,” his mama said, giving him a warning frown, “you heard the young lady. She’d like a little tea, and a kind word wouldn’t go amiss, either, I’m sure. Now why don’t you show her to the living room, while I ask Althea if she’ll get a tray ready and make sure that Eden and the puppies stay occupied for a while.”

  Without waiting for an answer, she bustled toward the house, moving with a speed and confidence that Zach hadn’t seen from her in years.

  Clearly, she had an agenda. Probably to find out what Jessie knew or had guessed about Eden. His heart pounded a warning, his own blood rushing in his ears. Did his mother really believe her clumsy attempts could fool an experienced reporter, someone who’d spent years drawing information from the unsuspecting?

  Jessie looked at him uncertainly. “What about Gretel? She usually comes everywhere with me, but I don’t imagine your mother would understand that. And I definitely don’t want to scare the little girl.”

  Desperate not to give away his nervousness, he grinned, “What? You don’t figure that my mama or Althea are gonna jump you over cookies? Or Eden, maybe, with her attack puppies?”

  Jessie smiled. “Puppies, huh? I’m not worried about Gretel’s training, but if you don’t mind, I’ll leave her in the barn, maybe in your office?”

  “That’s fine,” he said, and once they’d put away the dog with a bowl of water, they both headed for the house.

  “Come to think of it,” he said, “that’s where I left Margie’s number, anyway. Haven’t gotten around to programming it into my new phone.”

  Inside the house, Jessie asked to wash up, giving him a chance to whisper to his mother as they waited in the living room. “I know what you’re doing, Mama, and it’s a very bad idea.” Bad in more ways than one, just as he was beginning to feel about what he was doing. But how could he know what was right, not only for his family but especially for Eden, when he didn’t understand the situation?

  A look of alarm, of fear, crossed her face, but she quickly mastered her expression. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She sniffed. “You act almost as if— Why, that young woman deserves our sympathy after everything she’s been through.”

  “That’s not the tune you were singing last time she showed up here.” He couldn’t believe how crafty his mother was.

  “I was taken by surprise, that’s all. I had no idea Haley had any family, much less a twin sister. But this Jessica’s a better sort. Anyone could see that.”

  “You won’t think that when she tears into you. She’s a reporter, Mama, with a reporter’s instincts and a personal agenda.” Just like you. “If you’re hiding any secrets, I promise you, she’ll know it.”

  “You’re being ridiculous,” she argued. “What could I possibly have to hide?”

  “Your granddaughter, Eden.” He dropped his chin to look straight down into his mother’s widening eyes. “If Eden Rayford is really the girl’s name.”

  Chapter 11

  After splashing water on her face and straightening her wind-whipped hair as best she could, Jessie took a deep breath and told herself, “Three, two, one—game face,” before clapping on her most camera-ready expression.

  Or trying, anyway, she thought, frowning at her reddened eyes and washed-out complexion. But she’d done her job in the past while sick, angry and even on one regrettable occasion after her breakup with her boyfriend, when she’d been seriously hungover. Pulling a tube of lipstick from her jeans, she tried to pump herself up, saying, “Fake it till you make it, baby.”

  On second thought, today called for a brand-new mantra. Rock ’em till you shock ’em. Because she sensed that, unlike her son, Nancy Rayford would spill her secrets with the right questions. Zach must know it, too, thought Jessie, considering his attempt to send her away rather than letting her visit with his mother. Jessie took it as a sign she’d better milk this opportunity for all it was worth.

  The trouble was, Zach was no less protective toward his mother than Gretel was of Jessie. Maybe she ought to remind him of the disaster that had unfolded the last time he took loyalty too far.

  Really bad idea, she realized, instinct warning her that if she brought up the loss of his wings and the reason for it, he’d shut her down fast and hard, and there would go her last hope of any help from him.

  When she walked into the living room, the hornets’ buzz of their conversation instantly went silent, and mother and son stepped apart. Neither one looked happy with the other, but Nancy Rayford was quicker to put on her own version of the game face, even if it looked a little plasticized.

  “Please, dear, have a seat,” she invited, gesturing like a game show hostess toward a cream-colored sofa with a subtle floral design. Along with the complementary chairs and coffee table, it was grouped around an expensive-looking Oriental rug in front of a beautiful stone fireplace. “I’m sure Althea will be here any minute.”

  “Why don’t you go check on her?” Zach suggested. “I’ll stay and keep Miss Layton company.”

  Another look passed between the two, her stubborn blue-eyed frown clattering off his subtler warning. Jessie wondered what on earth their argument could be about.

  Ignoring her son, Mrs. Rayford claimed a wing-back chair. Jessie hoped for her sake it was more comfortable than the stiff fabric of the sofa.

  “Your home is lovely,” she said, eying a pair of beautiful—and fragile—ceramic figurines, a graceful pair of ballet dancers, male and female. “Did you do the decorating yourself?”

  The older woman beamed with pleasure. “Why, thank you. Yes, I did. How could you tell?”

  Jessie smiled back. Though the decor was fussy and on the old-fashioned side for her taste, she said, “It’s as warm and welcoming as you are. And so neat, too. I never would’ve guessed you have a small child living here. Or puppies, either, from what I’m hearing.”

  The older woman flushed, then darted a frightened glance toward Zach. An instant later, she waved off the compliment. “Oh, dear, you clearly haven’t seen the playroom. If I ever teach that child to pick up one set of toys before dragging out another, I should be considered for a Nobel Peace Prize.”

  Jessie smiled politely, wondering what exactly had triggered the obvious discomfort? Surely, not the mention of the puppies....

  Zach’s words popped into her mind, something he’d said earlier about Eden. I figure that tiny little handful of spunk and attitude’s the only thing that’s keeping her afloat.

  She remembered the pain in his blue eyes when he had said it, a pain so deep that she had rushed to change the subject instead of digging for details.

  “Has she always lived with you?” she probed. “Your granddaughter, I mean. She’s just adorable.”

  Zach opened his mouth to answer, but his mother beat him to it.

  “She’s— Yes, Eden’s always lived h-here,” Nancy Rayford stammered. “Since shortly after her birth. With my son stationed overseas, it was the best solution.”

  “Mother, are you all right?” Zach interjected before Jessie could think of how to ask about what had happened to the child’s mother. “You’re so pale. It isn’t an
other headache, is it? If you’d like, I can help you up to your—”

  “I’m fine,” his mother said, annoyance prickling in the two words. “Please don’t interrupt, dear.”

  Zach sat back stiffly on the sofa, his hands interlaced, his tension a palpable presence. Jessie could almost hear him willing the poor woman to go to her room and quit talking. But why? What was the issue?

  Something about the child, thought Jessie. Perhaps she’d been born out of wedlock? But that would only explain his mother’s discomfort. A man close to her own age, a man who’d seen the world as Zach had, surely wouldn’t be bothered about such a detail. And heaven only knew Jessie couldn’t care less.

  Unless...

  “I was wondering, Miss Layton,” Zach’s mother said, as if she’d read the direction of Jessie’s thoughts, “have you learned any more about your sister?”

  Jessie shook her head. “I’ve hired a detective to help, but there’s no sign of either Haley or Frank McFarland anywhere. Not a single trace.”

  “But then, there wouldn’t be, would there, dear?” asked Mrs. Rayford. “Those two were rather adept at living off the grid.”

  “I imagine they’d have to be,” Jessie admitted, thinking there were probably a slew of creditors who would be eager to find either one or both, and that wasn’t counting any possible outstanding warrants. “But there is one new thing I found out. Every month, like clockwork, Haley found a way to visit Marston to withdraw money from the little bank there, a small stipend my mother was depositing into an account for her.”

  Her mother had been very ill, coughing continually with her pneumonia, when she had finally broken down and confessed about the tiny little bank in Marston. Jessie could still feel her squeezing her hand, tears in her eyes as she’d said, “No matter what your father said, I’ve never completely given up on Haley. She’s my blood, my child. How could I possibly sleep nights worrying that she was going hungry?”

  “I was told there hasn’t been a withdrawal made since this past August,” Jessie continued somberly. “Before then, the money had been taken out within days, sometimes hours, of its arrival. She had to have been living on it, especially since it looks like neither one of them was working.”