He opened it and drew out the dozen or so photographs Trent had found. On such short notice, some of them were far from ideal. They were clearly things he’d borrowed from the Double C scrapbook, or printouts of photos that turned up on the Internet. One was a grainy, black-and-white crowd scene from the local newspaper.
Very few of them had the full-face clarity of a mug shot. But, for now, they’d have to do.
As he shuffled through them, Chase was glad to see that Trent had followed directions to the letter. He’d included a few fillers, the way the police would do when creating a lineup of robbery suspects. A few extra pictures, just random people who matched Flim’s general description.
It wasn’t that Chase didn’t trust Josie, it was just that…
Okay. So he didn’t trust her. Not one hundred percent, anyhow. He didn’t care how waifish or sexy or whatever she was. There was still one percent of him that said he’d be a sucker to simply shove a picture of his cousin, Alexander, under her nose and say, “Is this the guy?”
He handed them to her in a pile, without speaking. “Tell me what you think.”
She flipped through the stack quickly. “No. No.” She stared at one of the photos, tilting it for better light. “He’s very like this.” She handed the photograph to Chase. “It’s not him, but it’s close.”
He looked at it without comment. It was one of the filler shots, probably some guy from copyright-free clip art on Trent’s computer. Good-looking guy, though. Not unlike Alexander, really.
He put it down. “Okay. We’ll remember that. Go on.”
She was methodical, taking each one seriously, but always ending up with a no. He watched, keeping his face completely immobile.
So…it wasn’t Marx, the guy who’d been ticked about the Hillman land sale. Too bad. Marx was married, and smart enough to realize he’d have to pay fair child support, if only to avoid the scandal.
And it wasn’t Charming Billy, the wrangler with the roving hands, either. Well, that was a good thing. Chase had heard that Billy had been fired from every spread in East Texas. He’d be nothing but a liability. Josie could end up with two babies on her hands, one of them six feet tall.
Finally she had the stack narrowed down to one last photograph.
“I don’t really think this is Flim,” she said, clearly discouraged. Her shoulders sagged, and he wondered if she was getting tired. “It could be, I guess. The profile is similar, and…I don’t know…something about the posture. But it’s not a very good picture, and it must be from a long time ago. Chase—I mean Flim—is at least ten years older than this man.”
He took the picture. She was right—it was an old one. It had been taken about ten years ago, at a Christmas party at the Double C.
“I just don’t now.” She bit her lower lip again. “If I could see him from the front, full-face…”
The Flim look-alike wasn’t even the focal point of the photograph. He was just standing in the background, drinking whiskey and flirting with an extremely elegant brunette woman.
With Lila Clayton, to be exact. Chase’s first wife. It was, in fact, the last Clayton party this guy had ever been invited to. He’d gotten drunk and made a scene with Lila. And then, the next year, he’d gone to Vegas and stuck Chase’s stolen ATM card into the slot machine.
Chase leaned back on his elbows, letting the photograph drop on the wooden seat between his knees.
Damn it. Of course, it was the biggest sleazeball in the batch.
It was Cousin Alexander.
AS THE WAITER REFILLED her water glass, Susannah fidgeted with the Belgian lace that draped her upper arm. The stuff was pretty to look at, but so darned distracting. And it tickled, too.
She hadn’t worn so many girlie dresses in a row since she was old enough to choose her own clothes. She’d forgotten how much she hated them.
But though her own taste ran more to no-fuss, tailored clothes, she knew that most men preferred things lacy and sweet. Lacy and slutty would be even better, but she wasn’t willing to go that far, not even to land Ken Longstreet’s restaurant chain as an outlet for her peaches.
“Your wife and I have worked together for years, raising money for the Burn Center.” She smiled. “I’ll bet you’ve even eaten my peach cobbler at one of the fund-raisers.”
“Maybe. Can’t say I remember,” Ken responded, his mouth still half-full of rib eye and mashed potatoes. “I’ve eaten Everly peaches, of course. My sister likes ’em in her pie. She’s a spinster from over in Sundown—nothing much going on way out there, so she’s got plenty of time to cook. “
Susannah tried to keep smiling. But good grief. She didn’t even know people used the world spinster anymore. She wished she had accepted Jim Stilling’s offer to come along as a buffer. Jim could blow clouds of good-ole-boy smoke when he needed to. She could have thrown in a dimple and a smile now and then, and a few awed murmurs, like “You don’t say!” or “Why, that’s amazing.”
And the deal would have been signed, sealed and delivered by dessert.
“So you really run that big orchard all by yourself?” He waved his fork at her, apparently unaware that a ribbon of rib eye fat still clung to the tines. “That ain’t right. A pretty little thing like you?”
Susannah gritted her teeth so hard she nearly cracked a filling. She hated millionaire Yale MBAs who talked pseudo-hillbilly, thinking it would cloak their obnoxious chauvinism. Her foot twitched. If she kicked him under the table with one of these miserably uncomfortable spiky heels, could she make him believe it was an accident?
Brilliant, Sue. She was actually considering kicking the one guy in Texas who might be able to save her ranch.
She tucked her foot behind her ankle and squeezed it in place. Maybe her grandfather was right—she wasn’t sweet enough to be a good woman, and she wasn’t tough enough to be a good man.
“It’s not easy, Ken,” she said, pouring a little syrup over the words. “But you know I’m getting married soon, and Chase will be able to help me make the big decisions.”
Damn if the creep didn’t actually look relieved. “That’s true. There’s a certain amount of security there. I know Chase, of course. He’s a hell of a businessman.”
“Yes.” She took a sip of water and counted to three. Then she smiled deeply enough to bring out the dimple. “So you see, if you decide to contract with Everly Orchards, you can be absolutely sure that—”
Her cell phone trilled.
Damn it. Her instincts told her that Ken didn’t like interruptions.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said. She reached her hand into her drawstring purse, pulled out the little silver rectangle, and checked the caller ID.
It was Nicole. Susannah felt a pulse beat at the edge of her jaw. Nikki knew about this dinner, and she knew how important it was. Susannah thumbed the ignore button and put the phone in her lap.
“Now.” Leaning her elbows on the tablecloth, she laced her fingers and rested her chin on them. “Where were we?”
“The contract,” he said, pushing aside the small vase of orchids, so that he could lean in a little closer. “You were reminding me that, in a few months, Chase Clayton will be—”
The phone rang again.
She looked down. Nicole again.
“Maybe you’d better take that.” Ken’s fleshy face had turned a shade or two redder, and his voice sounded much more arrogant Yale, less backwoods bumpkin. “Doesn’t sound as if they plan to take no for an answer.”
She smiled apologetically. “Yes, I’m sorry. It’s my little sister. I’ll just be a minute.”
She clicked the answer button.
“Nikki,” she said, putting an edge in the greeting. “Is everything all right?”
“No.” Nicole sounded angry. “I need you to come get me.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m at Greta’s party.”
Damn it. They’d been over and over this earlier today, and Susannah had refused to budge. No parties
on weeknights. But Nicole was getting more and more brazen, and the argument had turned ugly.
For the first time, Susannah had said the B word.
Boarding school.
She had hoped the threat worked. But apparently she’d been kidding herself. It had probably just goaded Nikki into doing something even more rash. God only knew how she’d gotten to the party.
“You’re at Greta’s party. That’s interesting.” She had to keep her tone pleasant, but she squeezed in the special hint of lemon that Nicole would recognize. And she’d know it meant trouble.
“Yeah, I bet.” Nicole’s voice was hostile, but it also sounded kind of stuffy, as if she’d been crying. “Look, Sue, you really need to come get me. Eli was supposed to be here, but he didn’t show up.”
So that explained the tears. Eli had stood her up. Well, too darn bad. Nikki had insisted on going to the blasted party, in spite of everything Susannah had said. Now she’d just have to live with that decision.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Susannah said. “I’m tied up right now.”
“Come on, Sue. I want to go home. You’re not going to be a bitch about this, are you?”
“Yes,” she responded sweetly. “I’m afraid I am.”
There was a silence.
“Fine. Be that way.” A rough sniffing sound. “God, I hate you sometimes.”
And then the phone went dead.
She lowered it slowly to her lap again and looked over at Ken Longstreet. He had a feathery dollop of mashed potato caught in the left edge of his mustache, and a dime-sized gravy stain on his expensive white shirt. Apparently his Yale career hadn’t included a class in table manners.
“Done?” He glanced at his Rolex. “Can we get back to business?”
“Yes,” Susannah said awkwardly. But then she shook her head. What if it wasn’t just Eli’s absence that had spoiled the party for Nik? What if there were really something wrong?
“No. I’m sorry. I need to—just one more thing…”
Ignoring Ken’s surprised scowl, she picked up the phone and, typing as fast as she could, began putting together a text message to Chase.
Nik stuck at Greta Sugarton party, any chance you’re free to…
Oh, well, she thought as she hit Send.
She had probably lost Ken Longstreet’s business now, judging from the look on his face. And she’d probably lose all credibility with Nikki, too.
Maybe it really was a good thing she would marry Chase soon. Maybe this was just one more piece of proof, as if she’d needed it, that her grandfather had been right.
She really wasn’t tough enough to make it on her own.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHASE HAD BEEN IN AUSTIN with Josie that afternoon, talking to a sketch artist, who tried to make a visual out of Josie’s description of Flim. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like anyone he recognized, although it bore a superficial resemblance to Alexander.
Josie felt dissatisfied. The sketch was close, but not really right. Maybe she wasn’t describing him right. But both she and the artist had done the best they could. Chase decided to start by tracking down Alexander. At the moment it was their only real clue.
They were on their way home when he got Susannah’s text message. He could read between the lines. Sue was a nervous wreck, not knowing what Nikki might do. He asked Josie if she minded making a detour by Greta Sugarton’s house.
What a trouper she was. Though he could tell she was tired, she wouldn’t hear of letting him take her all the way back to the ranch. Nikki should come first.
Unfortunately, Nikki had already left the party. Chase checked everyone out—and opened a big can of buzz-kill on that brainless Greta and her friends, most of whom were barfing up her daddy’s fifty-dollar whiskey on his fifty-thousand-dollar lawn.
Then he decided to check the main road back to Everly. He had a feeling Nik was too smart to have hitched a ride home with any of these sot-faced losers.
His headlights picked her out, trudging along on the easement, about two miles from the party, maybe seven miles from Everly. He flipped his brights twice to get her attention, then slowed to a crawl beside her and rolled down his window.
“Umm…did you see my thumb out, buster?” Her voice was acid, and she didn’t even turn around to look at him. “I didn’t think so. Because I’m not looking for a ride.”
“Well, good, because I’m not looking to pick up any bad-tempered little brats, either.”
She turned around. “Chase!” Her smile was pure relief. “Boy, am I glad to see you.”
Then she noticed Josie in the passenger seat. She gave Chase a weird look.
He smiled. “Nicole Everly, this is Josie , a friend of mine from Riverfork.”
Josie smiled, and Nikki nodded stiffly. “Hi.”
Then apparently she decided to pretend Josie wasn’t there. Without preamble, she pulled open the truck’s back door and climbed in. She reached down and began peeling off her sandals. “Thank God you showed up. My feet are killing me in these stupid shoes.”
Chase had already noticed the strappy sandals with the three-inch heels. Susannah would have a stroke if she saw how Nikki was dressed.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a smile. “Those are just about the stupidest shoes I ever saw. Why the devil are you wearing them? Have you got your brain out on loan to somebody?”
He heard them drop on the floor. “They’re sexy. Eli likes them.” She scowled at him in the rearview mirror, drawing her brows down over her heavily made-up eyes. “Hey, that’s right. I’m not speaking to you. It’s all your fault that Eli couldn’t come to the party tonight. You’re a slave driver. Doesn’t he ever get any time off?”
Chase watched the road, picking his next sentence carefully. He thought Eli was a pretty good kid—in spite of the mechanical cow fiasco—but he knew that Sue felt their three-year age difference was a big problem. Maybe he should remind her that she’d fallen in love with Trent when she was even younger than Nikki.
Then again, the love affair with Trent hadn’t gone that well, so maybe it wasn’t the best comparison in the world. Still. If Sue didn’t back off, the kids were probably going to end up stealing a couple of his horses and eloping to Reno.
“Eli gets time off if he gets his work done. That’s how it is in the grown-up world, Nik. He can’t be out boozing and puking all night, because he’s got to punch a time clock in the morning.”
She screwed up her plum-colored lips. “I guess that means you went by Greta’s party.”
“Was that a party? I thought I’d stumbled into the monkey house at the zoo.”
“I know.” She heaved a big sigh. “Wasn’t it gross? There’s going to be trouble there tonight, I just know it. That’s why I wanted to get the heck out of there. Some of those boys are…” She pulled at her big, dangly earring. “You don’t know where I can get some mace, do you?”
He gave her a hard look in the mirror. “Did somebody get out of line with you?”
“Well, Elton Barnes is a jackass even when he’s sober, which he most definitely wasn’t, so I had to kick him in the…”
She glanced toward Josie. Chase looked over at her, too, and realized that she was smiling.
“In the family jewels,” Nikki finished.
“Ouch.”
She grinned. “Yeah, that’s what he said. Only louder. So you don’t have to worry. I can take care of myself. It’s just that mace would be so much easier. I almost broke my shoe.”
He chuckled. “And that would have been a terrible shame.” He glanced in the mirror again and nodded. “Okay. I’ll look into some pepper spray, if you want it. But don’t tell Sue.”
“Like she’d care. The only thing that she even thinks about anymore is the ranch. And her stupid volunteer work at the Burn Center. Hey, I know, maybe she’d notice me if I set myself on fire.”
He drove in silence for a couple of minutes, trying to decide whether it would be better to stay out of it. S
ue and Nikki were obviously having a tough time these days.
Inevitable, he supposed. After the disaster with Trent and Paul, Sue had changed. She’d always been a levelheaded gal, a calming influence on the three hardheaded boys. But after that night…well, it was as though her internal heater just up and broke. You couldn’t quite accuse her of being cold, but her spigots seemed to run nothing but cool. No whimsy, no foolishness, no fun. No mistakes of her own, and no tolerance for other people’s, either.
Not exactly the perfect guardian for an eccentric little rascal like Nik.
“Susannah told me why you guys are really getting married,” Nikki said. She had turned her head toward the window.
He glanced at Josie one more time. He hadn’t discussed any of this with her yet. Why would he? There was no earthly reason she needed to know the details of his engagement to Susannah, and yet, now that Nikki had brought it up, he felt slightly uncomfortable, as if he’d been caught hiding something.
“Oh, really?” He kept his voice noncommittal, hoping against hope that Nikki would, for the first time in her life, show some restraint.
No such luck.
“Yeah,” Nikki said. “Not that I was exactly surprised. I knew there had to be a catch. No man in his right mind would actually be in love with a cold fish like Susannah.”
He sensed Josie’s surprise, as she moved slightly, her profile tilting toward him, just an inch or so. But she didn’t say anything, obviously realizing that this might be a sensitive topic.
In spite of his reluctance to discuss it all in front of her, Chase couldn’t let a comment like that go. He thought of Trent, and Paul, and countless other men whose hearts Sue had broken through the years.
“Hey, squirt. Easy on your sister there. You couldn’t be more wrong. I only decided to be her friend because the line to fall in love with her was way too long.”
Nikki shrugged. “Still, it seems really weird that you’d get married like a business deal. Don’t you want a real wedding, with flowers and music and people crying and everything?”
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