by Pamela Toth
“She told me.” Garrett’s voice was flat. “It’s great news, but I still don’t understand why the two of you aren’t celebrating.”
Brandon glanced around. Except for their voices, the house was dead quiet. “Where is she?” he asked.
“Emma? How should I know?”
“No, Elizabeth. Is she taking a nap?” He’d barely seen her except at the dinner table, right before she and Granddad had disappeared for the night. When it came to women, the old man was a fast worker. Brandon was tempted to tell him so, but he might be embarrassed, or she might overhear, and then Brandon would be the one who was embarrassed. He drained the beer, tossed the empty into the recycling bin in the pantry and grabbed another full one. Pulling out a kitchen chair, he spun it around and straddled it, resting his arms on the back.
“Elizabeth left a little while ago.” Garrett must have changed his mind about the beer, because he grabbed the rest of the six-pack, dumped some pretzels into a bowl and joined Brandon at the table. Freeing one can from its plastic harness, he stuck his feet out in front of him, worn boots crossed at the ankles, and stared down at them with a barely perceptible sigh.
“Fine lot we are,” Brandon said eventually, tapping his beer against Garrett’s in an offhand toast. “I thought you two were getting along pretty well. What happened to her?”
“She got a call from Washington,” Garrett replied. “Some senator killed his mistress, so Elizabeth rode off into the sunset to save him.”
Brandon took a swallow and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Technically that would be sunrise.”
“Huh?” Garrett gave him a puzzled frown.
“She went east,” Brandon pointed out, sorry he’d brought it up. “The sun sets in the west.”
Comprehension dawned. “Well, whichever way she went, she’s still gone.” His voice was glum, his age evident in the tired lines of his face.
“What about Emma?” Garrett asked before he took a long drink.
Brandon grabbed a handful of pretzels. Between bites he told Garrett about Lexine Baxter.
“Poor Emma,” was all he said. Apparently her relationship to the murderer didn’t matter much to him. “Now what?”
Brandon shrugged. “Now nothing. To Emma I’m part of the whole sorry mess she wants to forget.”
“You gonna let it go at that?” Garrett asked.
“I don’t see that I have a choice.”
He didn’t like the way the old man snorted. “Then I guess you don’t. How soon are you leaving for Reno?”
Emma didn’t feel like celebrating, but neither did she have the heart to spoil Janie and Charlene’s fun when they’d gone to so much trouble. Even Melissa had gotten into the act, offering the café for an open house victory reception during lunchtime on Saturday and providing a huge sheet cake with Free At Last scrawled in red icing.
Since her breakup with Brandon, Emma hadn’t been sleeping well. Not only was she more tired than usual, but she must have caught a bug while her resistance was down. She woke up the morning of the party with an upset stomach. Luckily it went away while she was getting ready to leave her apartment.
As she circulated among the crowd of well-wishers at the café, Emma felt strange being out of uniform. In an attempt to at least appear festive, she’d donned a flowered broomstick skirt and a knit T-shirt in bright yellow. Although her face felt stiff from smiling, she was pleased that so many people had come by to offer their congratulations and to have a piece of cake.
A banner hung over the entryway. Balloons and crepe paper streamers decorated the room, and flowers surrounded the table where the cake was displayed. The first thing Emma had done when she arrived was to thank Janie and Charlene for all their work.
Emma had just shaken hands with an older couple, regular café customers, when she turned to see Rafe come in with his wife and daughter. It was the first time Emma had seen him out of uniform. He looked far less intimidating in faded black jeans and a striped shirt.
Grinning, he came straight over to Emma, gave her a brief hug and then introduced Raeanne and Skye. When Skye addressed her as “Aunt Emma,” it brought home to her that she had other family here besides a murdering mother and an unknown twin.
“It’s so nice to meet you both,” Emma said sincerely.
“It’s great to see the justice system working the way it was meant to,” Raeanne replied with a meaningful glance at her husband. “I’ve been wanting to have you over for dinner, but I’ve been swamped at work and then Skye had a cold. She’s better now.”
Rafe scooped the little girl onto his wide shoulders and she beamed down at Emma from her perch.
“Anyway,” Raeanne continued, “any chance you’re free Sunday?
“I’d love that,” Emma replied. Although she hadn’t come to a decision whether to stay in Whitehorn or to move on, getting to know the Rawlings was something she looked forward to. While Raeanne gave her directions, Rafe took Skye over to check out the refreshments.
“Oh, dear,” Raeanne murmured as the bell over the door sounded and both women looked up. “Have you met Max Montgomery? He’s Christina’s brother. I feel so sorry for the poor man.”
“I’ve seen him in here, but I didn’t know who he was,” Emma replied as she studied him curiously.
Max Montgomery reminded her slightly of Brandon. He had black hair and chiseled features, and success clung to him like the well-tailored suit he wore despite the fact that it was Saturday. His expression was closed, his face lined with pain. With a chilly nod at Emma and Raeanne, he went directly to the table in the center of the room, where he picked up a glass and clinked a knife against it.
Conversation faltered as everyone looked around expectantly.
“If I may have your attention for a moment,” he said in a commanding voice. “I don’t mean to detract from Miss Stover’s celebration, but my sister’s killer is still at large. That’s why I’ve decided to offer a reward for information leading to his or her arrest and conviction.”
People turned to each other and a hum of voices rose through the room.
Montgomery raised his voice, naming a sum that brought audible gasps from Emma and several other people.
Raeanne groaned. “Rafe won’t be happy about this,” she predicted as Montgomery thanked the crowd for their attention. Immediately he was circled by a group of people asking questions.
“Won’t a reward help with new leads?” Emma asked Raeanne.
“Possibly, but it will also bring in a rash of false clues,” she replied. “Greed brings out strange things in people.”
Emma hadn’t thought about it that way. Before she could comment, Raeanne glanced over her shoulder. “Emma, would you excuse me?” she asked. “I see someone I should speak to.” She indicated a pretty redhead standing by herself watching Max Montgomery. “That’s Samantha Carter. She’s a nurse and an excellent physical therapist. I wanted to get her business card for a friend.”
Before Raeanne could leave, the woman she’d indicated saw her and came over.
Raeanne introduced her to Emma.
“Congratulations,” Samantha said with a friendly smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever been to a party to celebrate being cleared of murder before.”
“And I hope I never do again,” Emma replied. “Be sure to have some cake while you’re here.”
“Thanks, but what I’d really like is to know the identity of the guy who posted the reward.”
Raeanne filled her in. “He took his sister’s death hard,” she added. “I don’t think he’s going to feel any real closure until her killer is caught and convicted.”
“Poor man,” Samantha murmured. “I hope he finds what he’s looking for.”
After Raeanne got Samantha’s business card, someone called her name and she excused herself.
“I’d better find out what Rafe and Skye are up to,” Raeanne told Emma. “If I don’t watch them, they’ll both eat too much cake.”
“I�
��ll see you tomorrow,” Emma replied. The mention of food had brought back the touch of nausea she’d felt earlier. After she had fetched a glass of water and was standing on the sidelines wondering how soon she could leave, she saw the back of a dark head across the room. At first Emma thought it was Max Montgomery talking to Rafe.
When he turned, she recognized Brandon. His gaze collided with hers. She felt like bolting, but there was nowhere to go. Hand tightening on the water glass, she stood her ground and watched as he wove his way through the knots of people.
“Hi.” His voice was cool, his eyes shuttered.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” Emma blurted, heart aching at the sight of him. He was wearing black loafers, charcoal slacks and a pearl-gray shirt with an open neck and the sleeves rolled back.
Her hand itched to touch him, to feel his warmth. Instead she smiled brightly. “You don’t look like a cowboy today,” she said inanely.
“I’ve neglected my business long enough. I just stopped to say goodbye on my way out of town.”
It took an effort to keep her smile from wavering, but she managed. “When will you be back?” The moment the question slipped out, she could have bitten off her tongue. It seemed as though he was always leaving and she was always asking when he’d return. It shouldn’t matter anymore, but it did.
Brandon shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“I want you to know that I’m going to pay you back for everything you spent to clear my name,” she told him.
“I never expected you to do that.” His voice was gruff.
“It will take a while, but I’ll make regular payments,” she continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “I’m thinking about looking for a teaching job for the fall.”
His gaze sharpened. “Are you leaving Whitehorn?”
“I don’t know yet.” She needed to take control of her life and make some plans.
“Elizabeth mentioned meeting your grandfather for lunch,” she said, changing the subject deliberately. “Is there something going on between them?”
Brandon sighed. “I guess not. She left for Washington a couple of days ago for a big case there.”
“That’s too bad. I thought they were attracted to each other.”
Brandon’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “Sometimes attractions don’t work out.”
What was Emma supposed to say to that? Was he commenting on his grandfather or on the two of them? How insipid an epitaph to what she’d thought they had.
“Emma!” One of her customers, a blue-haired lady who tipped generously, was advancing on her with arms outstretched.
“I’ve got to go,” Brandon said. His gaze rested on Emma’s mouth and reaction sizzled through her, but he merely jammed his hands into his pockets.
“Safe trip,” Emma murmured, disappointed. The old lady was waiting expectantly. Without another word, Brandon turned and walked away.
“What a nice little party,” the woman said as Emma tore her gaze from his retreating figure. When the bell over the front door tinkled to signal his departure, she excused herself abruptly and fled to the kitchen, no longer caring what anyone else thought.
Twelve
“Are you going to tell Brandon that you’re pregnant?”
Emma had just come out of the rest room stall where she’d been ill for the third morning in a row to find Janie waiting for her with a concerned expression and her arms folded across her chest.
“Who said anything about being pregnant?” Emma bluffed after she’d rinsed out her mouth at the sink. She hadn’t gotten around to using a home test yet, but she had all the signs. At Rafe’s on Sunday she’d nearly disgraced herself before making it to the bathroom. Brimming with brotherly concern that Emma found sweet, Rafe had insisted on driving her home while Raeanne and Skye followed in their car.
At the time it had been easy to tell them, and herself, that she’d caught some bug. She’d even expressed concern that she might have passed it on to one of them. Back home, she had counted on her fingers as dismay filled her. She’d never wanted to raise a child alone; neither would she consider giving it up. Now it was obvious from Janie’s frown that Emma’s bluff had run its course.
“I thought you two were doing fine,” Janie said. “Brandon has a right to know.”
“We broke up,” Emma admitted, tears clogging the back of her throat. “Can you imagine what his reaction would be to finding out that a child he’d fathered had Lexine Baxter’s blood in its veins?”
Janie straightened away from the doorjamb where she’d been leaning. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She gave Emma a hug. “Did he break off with you because of Lexine?”
Emma couldn’t allow her to place all the blame on Brandon. “Actually it was more complicated than that.” She tossed her head. “It would have never worked. We didn’t have that much in common.”
“Having a child together can become a shared interest,” Janie pointed out dryly. “I can’t believe Brandon would blame an innocent baby for something that wasn’t its fault. Have you seen a doctor?”
Emma shook her head. “Not yet. I’ve got a kit at home. You’ve got to promise me you won’t tell Brandon,” she said instantly. “If I am pregnant, I need some time to figure out what to do.”
“He could help you, with money and stuff,” Janie argued.
Emma set her jaw stubbornly. “It’ll take me years to repay what I already owe him. Promise me.”
“Oh, all right.” Janie rolled her eyes. “I won’t say anything to Brandon.” She studied Emma for a moment. “Do you feel well enough to work today? I could call Charlene if you don’t.”
“It’s her day off. I’ll manage.” In truth, even though her nausea had passed, Emma’s feet were like lead weights and she could have slept for a week. When she wasn’t so exhausted, she needed to look at her options.
She hadn’t told anyone that she’d gone out to see Lexine again the day before. Now that Emma knew about a twin, she had hoped for a few answers. As on her previous visits, she’d gotten nowhere with Lexine. Frustrated, angry and hurt, Emma finally left.
On the way home she followed an impulse and stopped to see Rafe at his office. When she told him about her visit, his advice had been to cut Lexine out of her life.
When Emma stalled, he’d asked if Lexine was the real reason behind her breakup with Brandon or just a convenient excuse for something more complicated.
At the time Emma had managed a snort of humorless laughter. Hadn’t he figured out that having a convict for a mother was anything but convenient?
Later that night, when Emma couldn’t sleep, she had finally realized the time had come to let go of her dream. After all the years Emma had longed for a warm, loving relationship with the mother who’d given her life, it was ironic that losing Brandon was so much more painful.
Brandon sat on the patio behind his house and watched the sun sink in the west, its vibrant colors reflected in the still water of the swimming pool. An unlit cigar dangled from his fingers and a snifter of his favorite brandy sat neglected next to his cell phone.
There were calls he should make, deals he should close, but instead he did nothing. In the three weeks since he’d left Montana, his life had gone as flat as the surface of his swimming pool. The financial business that had always excited him with its challenges now failed to hold his interest. It all seemed pointless.
Worse, he who had prided himself on needing no one found that he missed the rough, easy camaraderie of the Kincaids. He even missed his horse.
Who was he kidding? The only one who could fill up the huge hole in his life was Emma, and she was gone. Damned if he could figure out why. He’d been upset that she’d lied to him, but Lexine wasn’t the problem, not really. He’d been guilty, too, of not being open. He saw that now.
All Emma’s talk about the two of them not having enough in common was a giant smoke screen. Trust was scary; he knew that. Somehow he had to show Emma that they had more in common than she realized. O
nce he had her attention, he’d make her see they belonged together.
While he toyed with the idea of lighting the cigar one of his investors had given him, the phone rang. He pursed his lips and debated answering. Indecision was new to him. On the last ring, he picked up the phone and punched the button. “Harper here.”
“Brandon, it’s Rafe. How’s it going?”
Brandon had made an effort to stay in touch with Emma’s brother. Now they exchanged pleasantries as Brandon fidgeted, wishing Rafe would get to the point. Finally he interrupted an update on the murder case.
“How’s Emma doing?” he asked. “Is she okay?”
There was a pause long enough for Brandon to wonder if the signal had been broken.
“I don’t think she’s feeling well,” Rafe said finally.
Brandon sat up straighter. “You mean, she’s sick?”
“I guess. We had her over for dinner right after you left. She seemed to be coming down with a bug, but when we had lunch at the café a couple of days ago she still hadn’t bounced back. She’s awfully pale and she looks a little thin.”
“And you waited until now to call me?” Brandon demanded.
“I didn’t think you’d be interested,” Rafe replied. “Was it the news about Lexine that broke you up?”
“Emma’s background doesn’t matter to me any more than yours does,” Brandon growled. “Unfortunately, Emma wouldn’t listen.”
“Well, playing big brother is a little new to me,” Rafe said, “so make allowances if I’m awkward at it, but how do you feel about Emma?”
“I miss her.”
“Is that it?” Rafe persisted.
The answer came to Brandon in a rush. “No, but that’s all I’m sharing with you.”
Rafe chuckled. “Fair enough, I guess. Got any ideas?”
“First I need to get Emma’s attention. Then I can work on making her listen.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Rafe replied, “but it’s a little extreme.”
“Let’s hear it.” He listened incredulously as Rafe outlined his plan.