by Linda Warren
The nights were awful. She couldn’t stop thinking that one of her parents might want her dead. The thought was too depressing and she didn’t want to face it. Coward, she told herself, wondering where her strong fighting spirit had gone. She felt as though everything had crashed down around her feet, and she didn’t have the strength to pick up the pieces of her life.
She hated herself for that weakness.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Belle asked. It was one o’clock in the morning and Matthew was in his dad’s study, pulling out boxes, going through his papers.
“There has to be a clue here somewhere,” he mumbled.
“What are you talking about?”
“Dad knew something about C.J. and it has to be in his private files. I’ve got to find it.”
“It’s after one, Matthew. Go to bed and tomorrow I’ll help you.”
“Tomorrow may be too late.” He pulled another box out of the closet. “There were no prints on the truck and the police haven’t turned up anything. I have to find out what Dad knew. It’s my only hope.”
She quietly closed the door.
At three o’clock Matthew trudged upstairs, falling fully clothed onto the bed. There has to be something, he kept saying to himself as he drifted off to sleep.
HE WAS UP AT SEVEN, showered and had breakfast with his mother, then headed for the sheriff’s office. He needed some clues and the best place to find those would be at the beginning, when C.J. was abandoned.
“Good morning,” Watts said as Matthew walked into his office. The sheriff’s bald head glistened and his smile was friendly. He got to his feet and shook Matthew’s hand.
“Hope this early visit doesn’t mean anything’s wrong.”
“No, I’m just looking for some answers.”
“Answers to what?”
“C.J.’s birth,” Matthew told him. “I’d like to see the file on her—on when she was abandoned.”
A look of discomfort appeared on the sheriff’s face.
“What is it?” Matthew asked.
Watts rubbed his bald head. “What the hell,” he finally said. “Things have gotten out of control and I think it’s time it all came out in the open.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I was a deputy when C.J. was left on the Watsons’ doorstep. Sheriff Miller was determined to find the parents. Then, all of a sudden, he told me to get rid of the file, the basket and the baby clothes.”
“He had orders from someone?”
“Yeah, someone with a lot of power, because Miller told me if I knew what was good for me, I’d keep my mouth shut.”
“Do you know who it was?”
“No, but I always thought it was John Townsend. He was the only one with that much power. But since I heard he’s not her father, I’m in the dark.”
Matthew took a moment to digest this information. Somehow he knew this wasn’t everything. There had to be more. “What happened to the file and baby clothes?”
That look of discomfort appeared again.
“I can get a court order,” Matthew told him.
The sheriff glanced up sharply. “You don’t have to do that. I hid them in the storeroom. I’m only thinking about C.J.”
“You’ll have to explain that one to me.”
“Ever since Maggie died, C.J.’s been on this quest to find her parents. I can’t tell you the number of times she’s been in here asking for the file and those baby things.”
“And what was she told?”
“Miller lied to her. Told her the file had been misplaced and that Maggie had kept the baby clothes. She knew he was lying about that, because Maggie had told her the sheriff took the items for evidence.” He paused, shaking his head. “When she was eighteen, she saved enough money to hire a private investigator. After talking to the sheriff, the man took her money, told her the same lies and left town.”
“What was the sheriff afraid of?” Matthew asked.
“I don’t know. He never told me, but after his death, I’m ashamed to say, I kept up the lies. C.J. never gave up, though. She used to drive me crazy. When the money started coming for her education, she staked out your father’s office. I’d go over there and try to make her go home. Then she started leaving the truck on the outskirts of town and walking to the courthouse. She’d sit there and watch Matt’s office. I don’t know when she slept. Finally Matt made other arrangements with the money. I’m sure the only reason she took the job at the bank was to go through the records, trying to find the name of her benefactor.”
Matthew’s heart ached for the girl so desperately searching for answers and being lied to at every turn. He got to his feet and looked directly at the sheriff. “I’ll be back after lunch. Have the file and baby things ready.”
“I’m not even sure I can find them. It’s been so long.”
“You’d better, and that’s all I have to say.” Matthew flashed him a dark look as he headed for the door.
He checked on C.J., then spent the rest of the morning clearing up some minor cases. After lunch he returned to the sheriff’s office.
As Matthew sat down, the sheriff placed an old file in front of him, saying, “Not much there. Never understood why it was so important to get rid of it.”
He quickly opened the file and scanned its contents. After a moment he said, “You’re right, there’s not much here. It says the baby was left in a basket, wearing a dress, booties and bonnet.”
“Yeah, it was the strangest thing. The basket and outfit were traced back to Neiman-Marcus in Dallas. The sheriff hit a brick wall after that. Whoever purchased the items paid cash and there was no record.”
“But they were expensive,” Matthew guessed.
“Sure were. The basket alone cost over five hundred dollars.”
Matthew rubbed his temple with a forefinger. “Did the sheriff question the Townsends?”
“The Townsends?” Watts snorted and leaned back in his chair. “You know as well as I do that they control this town and the sheriff wasn’t about to jeopardize his career.”
“Only a few people in Coberville would have the kind of money to buy those expensive items, the Townsends being at the top of the list.”
“I told you what I thought about John Townsend, but that wasn’t true.” The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “I hope you’re not expecting me to question them now.”
Matthew glanced at Sheriff Watts, knowing he wasn’t willing to put his job on the line any more than Sheriff Miller had. The Townsends wielded immense power.
“No,” Matthew sighed. “But I’d like to see the baby things.”
The sheriff called a deputy, who brought in a big dusty plastic bag. He took off the tag and pulled down the plastic. Matthew’s breath caught in his throat. The basket was beautiful—white and delicately woven. White satin lined the inside and fine lace decorated the edges of the soft material. A small dress, booties and bonnet, also white with ruffles and lace, lay inside.
As he stared at the lovely things, it crossed his mind that these items were bought by a woman with money. Suddenly something C.J. had said popped into his head. I thought Victoria Townsend wanted one of the Townsend men to face his responsibility. That was it, he told himself. Why hadn’t it occurred to him before?
MATTHEW HEADED for the Watson place. He had to see C.J. Driving up to the ranch gate, he honked the horn. Within minutes Harry rode up and unlocked it. Matthew waved as he drove through, but Harry didn’t respond.
He saw her immediately. She was sitting in the swing, drinking a glass of iced tea. He noticed that the bruise was gone from her forehead. Her skin had a vibrant glow and her black hair was glossy, hanging over her shoulder into her lap. All he could think about was a hotel room in Austin, and the two of them lying in bed with those masses of dark hair falling about their naked skin.
C.J. watched him as he came up the steps. Tall and handsome in jeans and a blue plaid shirt, he looked very different from the man she’d encountered a couple of
months back, but he was still just as devastating to her senses. Her heart beat a little faster, and she couldn’t hold back the eagerness she felt at seeing him. As her heartbeat slowed, she noticed he was carrying a plastic bag.
“Hi,” he said, placing the bag between them and sitting in the chair opposite her. How he wished they were alone and he could touch her and hold her the way he wanted to. Since that night in Austin they hadn’t had any time together. There was always someone around.
His gaze traveled every inch of her creamy skin. “You look wonderful.”
“I feel wonderful,” she said, and set her glass on the porch railing.
Still, there was something in her eyes that bothered him. The old C.J. had retreated into herself, blocking out the pain, along with her hopes and dreams. The fighting spirit that was such a part of her nature had taken a severe blow, and he wanted to see that light in her eyes again.
He moved from the chair to sit on the swing beside her. “Hire me as your lawyer,” he said in an urgent tone.
She drew back. “What?”
“I’m going to find your parents, and to do that I need you to be my client.”
She looked at him for a long moment. “The police haven’t found anything, have they?”
“No,” he replied. “I’m starting my own search.”
She shook her head. “Why? This isn’t your specialty. And no one’s been able to find my parents. What makes you think you can?”
“Because my dad knew something about you, and he was the type to write everything down and never throw anything away. I’m going to keep looking until I find out what he knew. I’ve also checked with the sheriff.”
“Oh.”
That one word said a lot and he didn’t know how she was going to react to the baby things, so he plunged right in. “He had something that belongs to you.” He pulled the bag toward her.
The name on the tag leaped out at her. Baby Girl Doe. Underneath was the date she’d been found on the Watsons’ doorstep. Christmas Day. Her hands started to tremble.
“How did you get this?” she asked in a barely controlled voice.
“It’s been in the storeroom at the sheriff’s office all this time.”
“No.” She frowned at him. “That’s not possible. I’ve asked and asked and I even hired someone to find it.”
He took a deep breath. “They all lied to you.”
She jumped up, eyes blazing. “Those bastards! How could they? How could they do this to me?” The fight was back in her, and he could see she wanted to scream and rant, maybe hurt someone.
He caught her hands. “It’s here now, C.J. That’s all that matters.”
She jerked her hands away. “No, it isn’t,” she snapped, then her voice changed. “I’m so tired of the lies. Why doesn’t anyone want me to know the truth?”
“I do,” he said, and their eyes met. He grabbed her hand, urged her back into the swing and kissed her softly.
“Look inside the bag, all right?”
She didn’t speak, so he unfastened the tag and removed the plastic.
She gasped when she saw the white basket. She reached out and lovingly touched it, then saw the dress and picked it up. “Oh, God, it’s so beautiful.” Her eyes filled with tears.
Matthew caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.
“Thank you,” she whispered, feeling her anger ebbing away as she held the small dress.
Matthew sensed her relaxing and tried to make her smile. “Now are you ready to hire me?”
“I can’t afford you,” she said, wiping the tears from her face.
“In your case I’ll make an easy-payment plan.”
“Like what?”
“A kiss a day.”
She laughed, and the sound was music to his ears.
“Matthew, have you been drinking?”
“No, I’m just high on excitement.”
She watched the light dance in his brown eyes. “A kiss a day, you said?”
“Yes, we can start with those sweet chaste kisses on the cheek and forehead, then move on to the lips, then deep passionate kisses, then—”
“Okay.” She held up her hand, smiling. “I get the picture, but when we reach that last part, I expect to receive exactly what you’ve promised.”
“Oh, you will,” he said with a playful grin.
She shook her head comically. “Matthew Sloan, I do believe you have been drinking.”
“I haven’t,” he said, fingering the dress in her hands. His voice sobered. “Remember when you said you thought Victoria Townsend had given you the land and money because of one of the Townsend men?”
“Yes, but we found out that wasn’t true.”
“Look at these things. Seems obvious they were purchased by someone with money.”
“Yes, probably,” C.J. mused. “Maggie said the things were beautiful. That’s why I tried so hard to find them.” Frowning, she added, “They were bought by someone who had money but that doesn’t put us any further ahead.” She held the dress to her chest, wishing she could see the person’s face.
He leaned forward, gazing at her intently. “What if it wasn’t a Townsend man, but a Townsend woman?”
C.J. shrugged loosely. “If you’re talking about Joyce and Clare, I already checked them out. Clare was a shy teenager who didn’t date, and Joyce was in Europe at the time.” She paused for a second. “But since everyone’s so good at lying to me, I’m not sure of anything anymore.”
“I’ll check them out once more, just to make sure.”
Her eyes flew to his. “I’ll help you.”
“No, no,” he stated emphatically. “Our number-one priority is keeping you safe. That means you have to stay here. It’s too dangerous in town.”
From the look in his eyes and the tone in his voice she knew not to pressure him. But that didn’t mean she had to do what he said, either.
Getting to his feet, he murmured, “I’ve got to get going. I have a court hearing.” Moving closer, he asked, “You think I could get a small down payment?”
“I think that can be arranged.” She smiled mischievously and reached up with one hand, pulling his head down to hers. Their lips met in an eager kiss.
“Did I say one kiss a day?” he whispered against her lips. “I think we need to renegotiate.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Pete and Harry approaching the house.
“Or maybe not,” he said, straightening with a grin on his face.
“Thank you,” she called as he went down the steps. Glancing back, he saw she was still clutching the dress.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE NEXT MORNING Matthew went right to work. After calling his office in New York, he spoke with Miss Emma. “Pull all the files Dad had on the Townsends and anything he might have had on C. J. Doe. Even if it’s just a note, I want to see it.”
“Whatever for?” She glared at him over the rim of her glasses. “I thought that was all settled.”
“It isn’t. Someone’s still trying to kill C.J.”
“You think the Townsends are involved?” she asked in a secretive whisper.
“Just pull the files,” he said curtly, then something occurred to him. Why hadn’t he questioned her before? If anyone around here was likely to have any information, it was Miss Emma Stevens. He stopped her as she made to leave. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.” A little groveling never hurt as a means to an end.
A shadow of annoyance crossed her face, but she didn’t say anything, which was a first.
He leaned back in his chair, twirling a pencil thoughtfully. “What did Dad know about C.J.’s parents?”
Her eyes grew enormous. “Why would I have any idea?”
Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on the desk. “You were Dad’s right hand.”
“Yes, but that was one thing he kept very confidential. He wouldn’t even tell your mother, and believe me, she didn’t like that one little bit.”
“Surely you overheard a ph
one call, saw a letter, something,” he persisted.
“The only thing I saw was the money that came here once a month for her education. It was always put through the mail slot sometime during the night.” She adjusted her glasses pensively. “I remember the envelopes were always the same—cream-colored, expensive and scented. You can’t buy that kind at the local convenience store.”
“Do you have any of those envelopes?”
“No, your dad took them. I guess he threw them away, because I never saw them again after they were delivered.”
“Thanks,” he said, knowing that was all he was going to get out of her.
Reaching for the phone, Matthew heard the front door open, but he figured Miss Emma could handle whoever it was. He glanced up and his body vibrated with new energy. C.J. stood in the doorway, looking like her old self in jeans and boots. Her eyes were bright and her hair was pulled back and held in place with a blue ribbon.
She smiled, and he felt an ache in the pit of his stomach. She stirred his senses like no woman he’d ever known. She was fresh, exciting—and here, the practical part of his brain finally kicked in.
He came quickly around the desk. “What are you doing here? Where’s Pete and Harry?”
“It’s nice to see you, too, and Pete and Harry are right outside,” she answered sassily, and he knew for sure the old C.J. was back.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, but you surprised me. You shouldn’t be out. It’s too risky.”
“Please don’t start.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m about to go stir-crazy at the ranch.”
“It’s only until the police catch this man.”
“If they catch him,” she corrected. “Sheriff Watts has his men patrolling our road half a dozen times a day, and they haven’t seen anyone suspicious. After three failed attempts he probably got scared and left the county.”
“But we don’t know that.”
“I don’t want to argue. I came to help you search for my parents.”
He sighed in exasperation. “C.J.—”