Looking up at the older woman, Jessie added, “You’d have loved her if you ever had the chance to— And I know she would have loved you, too.”
“I’m sure she was a good woman,” Margie said, giving Jessie a squeeze. “She’d have to be, to’ve raised a daughter like you.”
“She raised two daughters,” Jessie said. “Only she never got the chance to see the other one again. And I might never, either.”
“What do you mean?” Margie pulled away to ask.
“I think my sister’s dead.” Jessie glanced at Zach, her gaze seeking his permission.
“I found some burnt bones, out at the old bunkhouse,” he explained. “I took some pictures of them before they disappeared, and Jessie here sent the photos to an expert.”
“The bones were definitely human,” Jessie added. “But we’ll have to find them if we want to prove they belong to Haley, who disappeared back in August.”
Margie stiffened. “You’re saying these bones are your sister’s? That she’s been dead since last summer?”
Jessie drew an audible breath, her beautiful face pinched with worry. “I hate to admit it, and I’d give anything to be proven wrong. But all signs point in that direction.”
Margie turned her back to pour each of them a cup of coffee.
But Zach would swear he’d seen something indecisive and troubled in her blue eyes. Did she know something she felt conflicted about sharing?
“Margie,” he said, “if you’ve heard something about Haley, you can tell us. We really need to know.”
“Why, what on earth would give you the idea that I know anything?” she asked as she put down a cup in front of Jessie’s place, sloshing a little into the saucer. “I never taught the girl.”
Jessie pushed back from the table, her eyes pleading. “You’re not protecting Frankie McFarland, are you? I don’t care whether he’s one of your lost boys or not. If he killed my twin, I need to know about it. No matter how I failed her in life, I need to find her—what’s left of her—and give her a decent burial. And I need to know that Haley didn’t intentionally turn her back on our mother at the end.”
“I truly wish I could help you,” Margie said, splashes of color coming to her cheeks. Shaking her head, she backed toward the door.
Wondering whether Jessie might be right, Zach asked Margie, “If you could tell us something, you wouldn’t just be helping Jessie and her family. You might be keeping both of us alive. Because we’re not stopping until we know everything, and whoever burned my family’s barn down isn’t about to give up, either.”
“I’m sorry I can’t help you, and I really should be going,” Margie told them, checking her watch. “I want to pick up some supplies before this storm gets any uglier.”
“Maybe you should wait. It’s already getting nasty out there,” Zach said, gesturing toward the window, where the morning seemed to be reversing itself, rolling backward into nightfall.
“My little wagon’s half four-wheel drive, half mountain goat. Don’t worry,” she said. “You two go ahead and eat while everything’s still warm. And don’t worry about the dishes, either. I’ll get all that when I come back.”
“Margie, please. Don’t let us run you off. Stay and talk to us,” Zach said before Jessie touched his arm and shook her head to shut him down.
“Thanks for everything,” Jessie said politely. “It was kind of you to go to all this trouble.”
Margie assured them she’d been glad to do it before fleeing toward her little office with her dachshund entourage. After crating the animals and grabbing coat and purse, she hurried out the door.
Zach looked at Jessie.
“Why’d you let her off so easy?” he asked.
“So she could go meet with whoever it is that’s running all this,” Jessie told him. “Because she’s not telling us a single thing until they get their story straight.”
Chapter 15
Zach’s blue eyes bored into Jessie’s, setting off a flutter just beneath her stomach, a reminder of the searing kiss they’d shared before the fire. Maybe it was the knock to the head, but she could swear that she still felt it, that she felt, too, a tingling in all the places where their bodies had pressed together. Or maybe it was the absence of that pressure that had her aching to repeat it, even though she knew getting any further involved with this man was a terrible idea.
But despite the kindness he had shown her and the look she’d recognized—pure, male appreciation mixed with speculation—in his gaze when she’d first come downstairs, his look promised an argument, not passion.
“Getting her story straight?” he asked her. “I’ll grant you that she was acting a little odd, but I’m not buying that my fifth-grade teacher would be involved in some kind of conspiracy. Especially a conspiracy involving murder.”
“She really seems like a nice woman, but she’s a retired teacher, not an active-duty saint,” said Jessie, who had reported on enough bad acts from doctors, ministers, cops and educators to know that anyone could slip up, no matter how respected. Especially if the person in question could somehow justify her actions. “You might not want to see it, but it’s obvious to me that she knows something. I didn’t think much of it before, but the way she looked at me when I first came here—she had to have known Haley, just like your friend Nate did.”
“So now you’re accusing my best friend, too? Good try. But Nate Wheeler couldn’t keep a secret if his own mama’s life depended on it.”
She shrugged. “He sure did clam up and take off in a hurry when I started drilling him with questions.”
“I can see why that would be suspicious,” Zach scoffed, “because otherwise, people around these parts love nothing more than a good inquisition. Anybody else you want to point the finger at?”
“Your mother has to be involved. Plus, we’d better not forget the sheriff.”
“And what about Danny McFarland? You really think all these respectable people are in league with a lowlife like Hellfire?”
“Reformed lowlife,” she corrected, “according to him, at least.” Something in the statement triggered an idea, but before she could grasp the thought, her stomach rumbled a loud reminder about the delicious-smelling food cooling within reach.
“Apparently, your sarcasm makes me hungry,” she said, dropping back into her seat and spearing a bite of her first meal since the cookies she’d had with tea the day before. “So if you don’t mind, I’m going to eat while we talk.”
Before he could respond, she popped the forkful into her mouth. Even lukewarm, the pancake was fluffy and delicious.
“Good idea,” he said, lowering himself into the opposite seat and pushing the syrup toward her. “You’ll definitely need your energy to spin this wild theory of yours. Bonus points if you can somehow tie it to the Kennedy assassination.”
Ignoring his comment, she occupied herself with the food for the next few minutes. “This is wonderful,” she commented when she had eaten as much as she could manage, lifting her coffee cup in tribute. “Almost makes me glad my new pals in the drunk tank helped me whet my appetite.”
“If you want, I’ll take you back there so you can thank them personally.”
Buzzing with the burst of caffeine and sugar, she smiled. “I’ll pass, thanks, but you’d probably like to turn me in and get your money back.”
He swallowed a mouthful and then shook his head, his expression serious. “Maybe I ought to. You really are a lot of trouble.”
“You think I’m a hassle now, you just try dragging me back to that jail.”
“Pure trouble,” he amended, “but for the time being, I think I’ll keep you around.”
Their eyes locked, the blue-to-green connection sending an electrical charge straight through her, and a jolt that made her smile. Because she liked this ex-pilot-
turned-rancher, too, far more than she ought to, and the more time she spent with him, the stronger the attraction grew. Along with the suspicion that something far more dangerous than a searing physical connection might be brewing. And far more likely, in the long run, to reduce her heart to ash.
Outside, the wind whistled past the old house, and icy pellets tapped like grains of sand against the windows. But cold as it was outside, Jessie felt nothing but the heat that burned in Zach’s gaze, along with the awareness that they were here alone.
“You know, this isn’t going to end well between us,” she said, warning herself as much as him. “Not if we’re guessing right about Eden. And especially not if your mother’s guilty of doing something she shouldn’t have to keep her.”
“I know it,” he said miserably, “and part of me feels like a traitor—and the worst son in the world—for even talking to you, much less digging into this business with your sister.”
“So why are you?” she asked him.
He let out a breath before shaking his head. “Because this kind of secret can’t—won’t—stay buried, not forever. Whatever happened to your sister, however my mama ended up with Eden, it’s going to come back to hurt that child. And I can’t have that. I won’t. She’s just a little kid. A little girl who needs someone to put her interests first, no matter what.”
“You really do love her, don’t you?”
He looked down at the tablecloth, his callused finger running along a hand-embroidered detail. She realized that this strapping, powerful man, a veteran fighter pilot and wealthy head of one of the most influential ranching families in the state of Texas, was too choked up to say the words aloud.
And that was when she felt her heart give way completely. Realizing that, even if it meant losing Eden—and possibly his fragile mother in the process—he loved her niece so much that he was willing to do whatever it took to do the right thing by her. To offer up the strength she needed, no matter what price.
Can I really do that to him?
Putting down her fork, she reached across the table and laid her hand atop his, stroked those work-roughened fingers with her own. “I can tell that Eden loves you, too. She loves both you and your mama. You’ve been good to her, probably far better than my sister ever managed—if we’re really right and she was hers.” Even with everything she’d heard and seen, Jessie was still having trouble wrapping her brain around it.
“Any fool could see it, if they looked at the two of you together, but we’ll do one of those DNA tests just in case. Pretty sure they’ll be able to check a swab from Eden against yours for a match.”
Jessie nodded. “We should probably check yours, too, or maybe your mother’s, just to rule out any other possibility.”
“Can’t say I see my mama cooperating,” he said grimly. “She has ways of getting out of things she doesn’t want to deal with.”
“So I’ve noticed.” Last night’s demonstration had driven home how far Nancy Rayford was willing to go to avoid being confronted. “Tell me, has she always been this evasive? Or did it just start after she lost your brother? Or maybe with your father’s death?”
“She seems worse now, but to some extent, yeah. She’s the same old mama I remember, either making excuses for the old man or retreating to her room with one of her ‘sick headaches.’ But it couldn’t have helped that I abandoned her and Ian, and without me there to help deflect my father, my brother took off, too. Didn’t even wait till he was eighteen. We left her there alone with him. All by herself in that big house.”
“Did—did your father hurt her, too?”
“I never saw him touch her, but then I never saw any affection, either, just cold demands—and blame, too, for giving him a couple of sons who never measured up, let alone appreciated the Rayford legacy.” Zach shoved his plate away, his mouth curling as if a bitter taste had filled it. “I should’ve toughed it out awhile longer. Should’ve stayed for Ian and my mama, too. Could’ve stood up to the bastard. Could’ve made it stop.”
“Your mother was an adult. You were an abused kid.” The thought of it had her aching for him. “She was the one responsible for taking care of you.”
Zach shook his head. “I thought that for a long time, but I’m the eldest son. I should’ve found some way to help her—or tried harder to make peace once I’d gotten myself settled. It’s taken a toll on her, make no mistake about that. And now I’m about to go and break her heart again. Only if it costs her Eden, I don’t know if she’ll survive it.”
“Are you sure about that? Or is that just what your mother’s wanting you to think? What she’s relying on to get you to let her have everything just the way she wants it?”
“What do you mean? That she’s faking? Because if you ever saw the way that she gets with her headaches—the vomiting, the need for darkness, you’d see—”
“So these are migraines, right? I’ve had a couple, and I wouldn’t wish them on my worst enemy.” Except for maybe Vivian, Jessie thought, still fuming over how neatly she’d been maneuvered—pushed into violating the no-compete clause in her contract so she could be threatened with a lawsuit if she didn’t go quietly. A lawsuit she couldn’t deal with, with her life crumbling around her. “But as horrible as they are, people don’t die from those. And they don’t die, either, from not getting their own way.”
Zach grimaced. “But she cries. My mother cries, and I can’t stand it.”
“Do you give Eden what she wants every time she turns on the tears?”
At his chagrinned look, Jessie winced. “Oh, boy, do you ever have a lot to learn about women.”
“I think maybe you could teach me,” he said, his voice as low and rough as the hiss of ice against the window, “all sorts of things about women.”
“I’m thinking that’s not a good idea,” she said, no matter how sexy she found the blue eyes blazing above his stubbled jaw.
A gust shuddered around the old house, and the lights flickered and went out.
“These old power lines around here are no match for a really good blue norther,” Zach said as he rose and lit a pair of candles in brass holders sitting out on the buffet. “I only hope that Margie’s safe, wherever it is she went.”
“I hope so, too,” Jessie managed, though she couldn’t take her eyes off the flickering light against his skin. Couldn’t get beyond what she saw whenever their eyes chanced to meet.
Rising from her chair, she started stacking up the dishes. Without a word, Zach rose to help her, carrying the candles to the kitchen. There, the two of them took care of the cleanup so Margie wouldn’t have to deal with it on her return.
Or maybe they were only stalling, immersed in the warmth of a companionable silence, with Jessie’s gloved hands down in the water, Zach’s big hands occupied with the linen towels he used to dry.
Or so she thought, until she sensed his presence, close behind her.
“Why don’t you let me finish here and you go on up to bed,” he murmured, the warmth of his breath stirring silky hairs that tickled her ear. “Your hands are barely moving, and your eyes keep sliding closed.”
She jolted fully awake, awareness of his nearness crackling through her.
“Maybe I don’t want to go to sleep,” she said. I want you to touch me.
She shivered with the thought, and the desire shuddered through her body with the stark awareness of how long it had been since she had allowed herself to shed her worries, even for a little while, in a man’s arms.
Her heartbeat revved, a feeling of panic tightening her stomach. She couldn’t afford to lose control here, not in Rusted Spur. Couldn’t afford to lose another piece of herself, with all she’d lost already.
“I should check on Gretel.” She pulled the sink’s plug to drain the water.
“Dr. Burton promised he’d call right away if there was a
ny change. Besides, this storm’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better,” Zach said, still standing so close, she felt the heat of his body behind her.
So close, that if she turned around and stood up on her toes, she could find out if what she’d felt in the barn office, what she was feeling whenever she heard him speak of family and duty, might be real.
But she had family, too, and duty. A duty she could not ignore. Her jaw tightening, she rinsed away the last of the suds before pulling off the dishwashing gloves and laying them across the rack.
He placed a hand on the curve between her neck and shoulder. “You’re all tensed up,” he noted as he began to knead the muscles. “Am I bothering you, Jessie? Because I can leave if you want, grab one of the cowboys and drop your SUV by later.”
She shook her head, “It’s not that. It’s just—I was thinking about Haley out there somewhere, wondering how I’m ever going to bring her home.”
Taking her shoulders in his strong hands, he turned her around to face him. “We’ll find her, and we’ll get answers,” he swore. “You see if we don’t.”
And just like that, she felt the weight lift, knowing that this honorable man, a man willing to step up and return to a family that had brought him so much pain in his youth, had given her his promise. A promise she knew instinctively he would never willingly break.
With his vow, the world seemed suddenly more bearable...especially while she stood at eye level with those sensuous-looking lips.
Outside, the icy rain lashed at the windows, scouring away her memory of all the reasons that leaning forward would be unthinkable. Judging from the harsh scrape of Zach’s breathing, the intensity of his gaze, he was having as much trouble as she was trying to resist the tidal pull.
“Like I said before,” he told her, “you need to get yourself up to bed.”
“And like I told you,” she said stubbornly, “I don’t want to sleep.” Alone, at any rate.
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