A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing (20 page)

For a moment, I concentrated on gathering myself. It wasn't just the vertigo that was affecting me. I was still struggling to absorb the suspicion that had formed in my mind when I'd looked at Elizabeth McKenzie's portrait—that I might be her biological daughter. I had to moisten my lips to ask, “Could you please tell me what you know?”

“It happened a few months after your father and mother brought you back from Europe,” Beatrice replied.

“Why?”

“Why did she do it?” Beatrice's tone was musing now. “I don't suppose we'll ever know for sure. Doc Carter might give you more of an insight. Elizabeth never quite recovered from her pregnancy with you. She didn't want to have children. She had her art. She told me once that she hadn't even wanted a husband, but she'd fallen
in love with James. And my brother can be very persuasive.”

Tell me about it,
I thought. Beatrice wasn't looking at me. She was looking straight ahead at the stone walls of the tower as she continued, “She agreed to have a child for James, and he's always blamed himself for her death.”

I thought of how the story paralleled in a way my own adoption. My mother hadn't wanted to take a break from her medical training to carry a child. “Why didn't they just adopt?”

The look Beatrice gave me suggested that the answer was obvious. “Your father wanted an heir, someone with McKenzie blood.” Then she slipped her hand from mine, glanced down at her watch, and rose. “It's nearly nine-thirty. You'll want to change for your tour with Sloan.”

I looked at my jeans. My elegant sister would probably not wear these even to ride around the ranch.

“We'll go down slowly. I'll lead the way, and you stay right behind me. If you get dizzy, we'll sit and rest.”

As we descended the stairs, my mind continued to spin. But this time it was with questions. My inner Alice was now on full alert.

What had caused Elizabeth to commit suicide? And could her tragedy somehow be connected to her daughter's disappearance?

T
he moment I entered my room, I raced for my cell phone to see if Pepper had called back. But I hadn't taken it with me—I'd barely wanted to touch it since that threatening call had come in last night. I hadn't recharged it, either, so I held my breath as I checked to see if the battery had worn down. It hadn't.

I sank onto the bed, and Hannibal voiced his disapproval. I turned to find him still on his self-claimed throne. He really gave added meaning to the phrase “squatter's rights.”

“Don't you have to eat or pee or something?”

His only reply was a bland and superior stare.
And no wonder. Of course, he didn't have to go anywhere to eat when I was providing a seemingly endless supply of cat tidbits. I rose and got him a few more from the cabinet. And I bet he had his own secret methods for exiting and entering Cameron's room when I wasn't there. He hadn't moved from his position during the night—not even when I'd climbed in and stolen one of the pillows for myself.

“Look,” I said as he disposed of the cat treats. “I know this is hard for you. But we have a common goal. You want Cameron back and so do I. You might think about cooperating a bit.”

He seemed to be listening; at least he wasn't licking his claws or hissing or making any other threatening gesture. Satisfied for the moment, I turned my attention back to the phone and saw I had a message. I held my breath while I retrieved it, but it was Pepper's voice with one word. “Call.”

I punched her number into my phone, then held my breath again and prayed that she'd pick up.

She did on the second ring. “Brooke?”

“Yes.”

“I've got an update. It looks like Austin and both Lintons were indeed in Las Vegas. At least, their credit cards were. Cole is checking it out further as we speak.”

“Marcie Linton told me that Austin had reformed.”

“As of five weeks ago, he hadn't. He dropped close to ten thousand as far as Cole can tell. Tomorrow, Cole's going to San Diego to check on the flower show that Beatrice was presenting at. Are you all right?”

“I'm fine.” I'd had a little argument with myself about just how much I was going to tell her and I'd decided on as little as possible—and certainly not about the phone call. I didn't want her rushing out here with Cole. Not yet anyway. “But I think I may know who my mother is.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. “Wait.”

I could picture her grabbing her notebook, then turning to a fresh page.

“Okay, who?”

“Elizabeth McKenzie.”

“James's second wife?” Pepper asked. I heard a little plop. Had she dropped her pencil?

“It shocked me, too. And I could be wrong. But I've seen her portrait and I look like her. The story they're telling here is that Cameron was born in Switzerland. I thought at first the trip might have been made to hide the fact that Cameron was adopted. But since I saw Elizabeth's portrait, I think the trip to Switzerland was for something else.”

“To cover up that two little girls were born and only one was brought home?”

“Maybe.” My stomach clenched. I was finding it hard to accept the fact that we were talking about me. The little girl that wasn't brought home.

“But why?” Pepper's tone was thoughtful and I could hear the tapping of a pencil. “I found adoption papers for both you and Cameron in the records of a private adoption agency here in the States and no clue as to the mother.”

“Which effectively stopped you from checking further,” I pointed out.

“Yes, it did.”

I heard a trace of annoyance in her voice.

“A Doctor Carter went on the trip with James and Elizabeth.”

“Hmmmmm,” Pepper said. “I'll bet the good doctor is in this up to his ears.”

“That would be my guess. He's a close family friend who appears to be very kind and concerned. I can't imagine him having anything to do with Cameron's disappearance, but I'm thinking he might have sent me the letter. And he doesn't have an alibi for the day of Cameron's disappearance. He claims he was home using this putting green he has in his backyard.”

“I'll get my brother Luke to let his fingers do the walking on his computer keyboard. He'll check out your good doctor and if there are any records anywhere, he's the best bet we have of getting to them.”

Just talking to Pepper was settling my nerves a bit. There were answers to the questions that were whirling in my mind, and we'd get them.

“I'm liking less and less the fact that you're there alone,” Pepper said. “Why don't I join you? You can say that you need the comfort of having a friend from your present close at hand while you're exploring your past. Something like that.”

“No.” I'd anticipated that Pepper would suggest something like this, so I was prepared. “I need you to find out more information for me. See what else you can find on Hal Linton, too. He made a move on me last night.”

“Really?”

“I'd like to know what his relationship with Cameron was before she disappeared. In your report, you said they met through Austin and Marcie. If they were having an affair, someone in Linton's business circle might have been aware of it.”

“I'm on it. Anything else?”

On impulse, I said, “Check into Beatrice's husband. He ran the ranch for a while after Sloan's father ran away with Sarah McKenzie. But he's not here anymore, and no one talks about him. I don't even know his first name.”

“I'll get it.” I could hear Pepper scribbling. “Cole thinks I made a mistake, that I should have
talked you out of this masquerade—which is a dangerous plan. His words.”

I drew in a deep breath. “Well, the good news is I'm going to be leaving here by Friday evening.”

“That is good news,” Pepper agreed. Then after a beat, she said, the frown clear in her tone, “That's tomorrow. It's not that I'm not happy about it, but why do you have to get out of there so soon?”

I cleared my throat. “Because James has decided to move up the wedding. Tomorrow night Sloan and Cameron are going to be tying the knot in a small, private ceremony in the hacienda's chapel.”

“Wait. Time-out. He wants you to marry Sloan Campbell tomorrow?”

“That's right. But don't worry. That's not going to happen.”

“Liar.”

“I'm not kidding.”

“I know you, Brooke. If you haven't found what happened to your sister by tomorrow, you won't leave.”

“That's why I'm calling you. I need anything you can find out ASAP.”

“I don't like this.”

“Gotta go. Sloan is giving me a tour of the ranch to see if he can stir up any memories. Find out what you can.”

“Brooke—”

“I'll check in with you later today so that you'll
know I'm all right. Bye.” I disconnected the call and frowned. She'd worry about me now. I couldn't help that. I was worried myself. But at least Pepper didn't know about the threatening phone call. And after a morning with Marcie and Beatrice, I wasn't one step closer to finding out who'd made it.

“Hey, Red?”

It was Sloan's voice. I hurried to the window and saw him standing in the garden below me. Once again, I felt a rush of pleasure just seeing him. Not good, I thought.

“Beatrice told me you were in your room. I'm running a little late, and I have to stop at the stables.”

I glanced at my watch. “You said ten. I still have to change my clothes.”

“When you're changed, come over to the carriage house. It'll save us some time.”

“Sure.”

With a little salute, Sloan turned and walked away. I kept my eyes on him as he strode down the same path he'd ridden on earlier with Saturn. He didn't look as though he was hurrying, but those long legs of his really ate up the ground.

And he belonged to my sister. I should write that on the palm of my hand the way I used to write reminders when I was in junior high.

The brush of something against my leg made me jump. Glancing down, I saw that it was Hanni
bal, and my heart returned to its usual place in my body. The cat flicked me a look and then rubbed against me again.

“Are you trying to suggest a truce, or are you warning me off Cameron's fiancé?”

Hannibal made a soft purring sound in his throat that I wasn't quite able to interpret. “I was just lecturing myself about the same thing. I'm going to have a talk with Sloan while we're taking our tour.” And I was also going to find out why he hadn't tried to talk James out of moving the wedding up.

I'd tell him that I didn't want him to kiss me again. Which was a big fat lie. And he'd know it because so far my response to his kisses on a scale of one to ten could be measured at about a thirty.

Hannibal purred again. Did I actually hear a note of skepticism, or was I just projecting?

“I'll explain that I need time to get used to him again.” Hopefully, that would work. But my eyes shifted back to Sloan. Who was I kidding? If I got any more used to him, I'd be in his bed. One more day, I reminded myself. Surely, I could keep from jumping his bones for that long.

“It isn't as though I don't have other things to occupy my time.” Like finding out what had happened to my sister. And getting to the bottom of why I looked so much like Elizabeth McKenzie. I glanced at my cell phone. Not to mention, avoiding
the fate of the previous mistresses of the Hacienda Montega.

“My plate's full,” I assured Hannibal. And myself.

After taking one last look at Sloan, I turned and strode into the closet. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hannibal leap onto the bed, but he didn't go back to stake his claim on the pillows. Instead, he made a circle, then sat near the side where he could watch me select an outfit to wear.

Quickly, I located a pair of riding breeches and boots, but I couldn't decide on a blouse. Cameron seemed to have a weakness for silk, and I was torn between the peach, ivory or pale blue one. I held each in front of me. Hannibal growled at the blue one.

As I stripped off my jeans and T-shirt and dressed in Cameron's clothes, I couldn't help smiling at the idea that I was taking fashion advice from a cat. I wondered if this was something that he and Cameron did on a daily basis. I wanted to think that it was, that there was a softer side to the picture of my sister that everyone else was painting.

When I was done, I turned in a full circle for Hannibal's benefit. He made no further noise, nor did he make any threatening gestures. I decided to take his lack of reaction for approval, and I felt a little closer to my sister as I left the room.

 

The carriage house had been built of the same colored stone as the hacienda, making me assume that it dated back to the same era. At one time, it had been used to store horse-drawn carriages. The lower floor had been renovated and now offered the modern convenience of automatic sliding doors.

It seemed a little far from the main house to use as a garage. Curious, I peeked through one of the glass windows and discovered there were indeed cars inside. The rugged truck that I'd seen Sloan use the day before along with its trailer, a black SUV with the logo of the ranch on it, and a sporty little red convertible that only seated two. It was built for speed, and it was exactly the kind of car that I hoped to own one day.

Was it Sloan's? Or perhaps it was Cameron's.

At the side of the building, I found a set of iron stairs to the second floor. On my way up I reviewed in my mind what I was going to tell Sloan—that I needed time to get to know him better and it would be better if he didn't kiss me again.

That at least wasn't a lie. It would be a lie if I told him I didn't
want
him to kiss me again. I knocked on the screen door.

After waiting a bit, I knocked again. When there was still no response, I allowed my inner Alice to open the door and walk into a spacious kitchen
that was neat as a pin. Two arches in the wall to my right allowed access to other rooms. Through the far one came the sound of running water and a man singing.

I moved to the closest arch and spotted a large flat-screen TV, what looked to be a state-of-the-art entertainment center, and two large speakers. Boy toys. There was a comfortable-looking leather couch, and an oak coffee table with a paperback book lying open facedown to mark the page. There were more books in built-in glass-doored bookcases that flanked the fireplace.

My gaze shifted to the art on the walls, and moving closer, I saw that each piece held four photos that had been clustered in the center, then matted and framed. In one group, I saw a man who resembled Sloan standing next to a horse with a baby in his arms. The same man was captured in other poses, two with James. Sloan's father?

In another, there was a cluster with James and an older boy. He looked to be five or six in one, a teenager in another, and in the others he was a man—Sloan Campbell. It was like having a family album on the walls. Except there were two families and the mother was missing in each set of photos.

Cameron and he had that in common—a mother they'd never known. In spite of that loss, I envied Sloan in a way. My own family was not the type to take photos. There were no albums, no framed
pictures on the walls. The ones I had were some that friends like Pepper had snapped and given to me. I glanced around the room and realized that there were no pictures of Cameron—not as a little girl and not as a woman. I found that odd.

Slowly but surely, I was learning about Sloan Campbell. He was a man who worked hard, was good at what he did, and who liked a comfortable, quiet place to come home to at night. I suppose that didn't make him much different from a lot of men. Or women. I liked to come home to a quiet space myself.

My sister, on the other hand, evidently liked to go out, to meet clients for dinner and drinks—if I could make judgments by her wardrobe and what others had told me.