The Colton Ransom (12 page)

“I don’t believe in curses,” Gabby said with feeling, although she was willing to concede that they certainly had had more than their share of bad luck.

“Neither do I,” Amanda went on to agree, adding, “But there certainly is something about our family that attracts the crazies.”

That Gabby couldn’t really argue with. “Whatever happened with the investigation into Cole’s kidnapping?” she asked, looking from one older sister to the other. She had been too young to remember how the story had gone.

Amanda shook her head as she gave a slight shrug, careful not to wake her daughter. “As far as I know, it went nowhere,” she replied. “Dad certainly never mentioned it again.”

“I bet it still eats at him, though,” Catherine speculated. “How could it not?”

Amanda took it a step further. “Maybe that’s why he’s given up hope the way he has. Maybe he feels he doesn’t deserve to live, not after losing his firstborn years ago and now almost losing his granddaughter.”

What Amanda said made sense to Gabby. It started her thinking. Desperate for something positive to do, she came up with an idea. “Maybe we should try to find Cole again.”

The suggestion was good in theory, Amanda agreed. But not in practice. “The trail’s got to be at least thirty years cold.”

“If he’s even alive,” Catherine interjected. She hated to think about it, but the odds of that were rather slim.

But Gabby wasn’t about to be talked out of it. Her father was a gruff, exceedingly difficult old man to get along with, but she loved him, and if finding out what had happened to his firstborn made leaving this earth a little easier for him, she wasn’t about to be dissuaded from this new quest.

“We’ve got to give it a try. There are more sophisticated ways of picking up and following cold trails these days than there were thirty years ago.”

Since neither sister was shooting her down, she went on, her voice building momentum as she grew more excited about what she was proposing. “We could hire a private investigator, someone who specializes in finding missing relatives. If the investigation turns up anything, it would give Dad some closure. And we’d know we’d done all we could to find this missing brother of ours.” She looked from one sister to the other, eager to have them sign on with her. “C’mon, what do you say?”

“Sure, why not?” Catherine said.

And Amanda shrugged, compliant. “It’s fine with me, Gabby.”

If they
did
find Cole after all this time, if their father saw that his son was alive, it might just be what he needed to rally him. Excited, Gabby almost clapped her hands together, but stopped herself just in time. She didn’t want to accidentally wake up her niece.

“Great,” she said, trying to rein in her enthusiasm. “I’ll look into it tomorrow.”

“Before or after you go off with Trevor?” Catherine wanted to know.

“During,” she responded with a toss of her head.

Catherine laughed. “Got an answer for everything, don’t you?”

Gabby’s smile was wide and pleased. Despite the tense atmosphere surrounding all of them, for a moment, they all relaxed. “I try, Catherine,” Gabby said. “I most certainly do try.”

Chapter 11

G
abby couldn’t sleep.

She knew sleep was eluding her not because of her hopes to find her missing half brother or even because she was so positive that she and Trevor could get to the bottom of who had killed Faye and kidnapped Avery. What was keeping her from falling asleep, even though she did her very best to talk herself down, was the memory of that unexpected, red-hot kiss in the cab of the truck a few short hours ago. Every time she started to drift off to sleep, she’d suddenly find herself reliving the whole breath-stopping scenario and she’d be wide-awake again.

It wasn’t as if she’d never been kissed by anyone before. She had. And while there had never been an endless parade of men in her life, the ones she’d gone out with were all decent, good men.

The trouble was, none of the others had ever made her blood sizzle the way Trevor had, never made her soul sing the way his kiss had.

None of them had ever aroused her to such heights the way he had, not even Kyle Buchanan, the one who had abandoned her for a rodeo career.

She supposed, if she were being completely honest with herself, she’d had a crush—to a greater or lesser degree—on Trevor Garth from the very first time she’d laid eyes on the tall, dark and solemn-as-a-tomb man. Gabby could vaguely remember him as a young teenager, living with Faye and her son.

After that, there were years that he was gone, living in Cheyenne and working on the police force there. And then, five years ago, he’d returned, looking even more solemn than when he’d left.

As Gabby lay in her bed in the dark, she tried to remember if she’d ever heard him laugh with real happiness. Try as she might, she couldn’t come up with a single memory. She felt that laughter was very important in a person’s life. The fact that she’d never heard him express joy saddened her.

There was something about the man, something deep inside him, that reached out and spoke to her. Something that convinced her that Trevor needed to make a connection with another human being on an emotional level, no matter what he pretended to the contrary.

Just before she finally drifted off to sleep an hour before dawn, Gabby decided to make it her personal mission to make the former Cheyenne police officer laugh just once.

Who knew? He might even decide that he liked the feeling and do it again sometime.

That it was a possibility worth exploring was the last coherent thought Gabby had before she finally managed to fall asleep.

* * *

“You look like hell.”

The assessment had come from Trevor only a few hours later. He had come by to pick her up as he had promised and was standing in the foyer, looking at her a bit bemusedly.

The comeback was automatic. “Thank you. Right back at you,” Gabby replied flippantly.

She’d had just enough time to throw some cold water in her face and pull on a light blue blouse and a pair of jeans, as well as her favorite boots, before Trevor had come knocking on the main door.

She felt groggy.

Getting only a couple of hours of sleep was worse than not getting any sleep at all, Gabby decided. In her opinion, had she just kept going, she would have probably felt a good deal fresher and alert than she did at this moment.

Gabby blinked, clearing her vision, and paused to scrutinize Trevor. Her flippant remark wasn’t just flippant—it was accurate, she realized. Now that she looked, Trevor appeared to be in worse shape than she did. She knew why she looked the way she did and the reason behind why she hadn’t got much sleep—but why did
he
look as if he’d spent the night wrestling alligators? Well, he did have a very good reason. Of course, he’d be up all night worrying about his daughter.

“I guess you didn’t get any sleep last night, did you?” Gabby asked, still looking at his less-than-bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed appearance.

Rather than answer her question, his natural suspicious nature had him asking, “Why?”

He hadn’t got any sleep. Lying there in the dark, thinking, had brought out every concern he had, magnifying each one a hundredfold. That, added to his unintentional slip in the truck earlier, had made it all but impossible for him to get more than a few winks in before dawn came rudely bursting into his room, calling for him to get up and resume his search for his missing daughter.

“Because you look like you were up all night,” Gabby told him simply.
Like I was.
Out loud she asked, “Were you?”

He knew that it was pointless to deny that he had been. The proof was obviously there in his face. “I was trying to figure out who was the most likely person to have attempted to kidnap Cheyenne. You realize that if he or they—”

“Or she,” Gabby interjected. When Trevor looked at her as if she were talking gibberish, Gabby pointed out what she felt was obvious. “The kidnapper could be a woman, you know.”

“Equal rights?” he asked with a sliver of amusement. These days, a man couldn’t spit without it landing on someone who took great pleasure in insisting that women were still viewed as lesser beings than men. In his opinion, that was a crock.

Hell, he’d never felt that way himself. If it hadn’t been for a woman—the brutally murdered Faye—he might have come to a sorry end years ago. She’d taken him in and saved him from who knew what fate. He had nothing but the utmost respect when it came to what had once been referred to as the “fairer” sex.

“Equal opportunity,” Gabby countered, then pointed out, “It doesn’t take much strength to fire a gun or grab a baby and run. And some women can be just as ruthless and coldhearted as men. More.”

He was silent for a moment, then said, “You’ve got a point. Anyway, once the kidnapper figures out that the wrong baby was grabbed, he—or she—is sure to be coming back after Cheyenne.” He looked at her pointedly. “You know that, right?”

She was painfully aware of that, which was why it was doubly important to locate the kidnapper.

Gabby also noted that Trevor had deliberately not said anything about what would happen to his daughter if and when the mistaken identity was discovered. He was avoiding mentioning that whole unsettling scenario, which could mean only one thing. Trevor had come to care for the little girl a great deal more than he was willing to admit.

“So,” he concluded, “this threat really won’t be over until we get the son of a bitch.” He caught himself before he began uttering curses in earnest. “I mean—”

She took his backtracking to mean that he didn’t think the words applied to a female villain. Gabby assured him otherwise.

“The term works for either gender,” she told him. “It speaks rather well to the lack of character. Okay, I’m ready,” she announced, following him to the door. “There’re just five names left on the list.”

“The possibilities go beyond the list,” he told her.

Which meant he intended to interrogate other people. Who? “Go on,” she urged.

This was just off the top of his head. “There are a few new ranch hands at Dead River, men I don’t know all that well.”

Gabby couldn’t help wondering if there was anyone on the ranch that Trevor actually
did
know well—now that Faye was gone. Outside of the beloved nanny, she’d never seen him hanging around with anyone. For the most part, Trevor kept his own company.

“And there’s the boss’s ex and her two spoiled brats,” he pointed out.

She loathed all three, as did her sisters, but she didn’t think any of them capable of murder. Or, in the case of Tawny and Trip, of moving very fast. Both siblings were the embodiment of laziness.

“You think one of them could have taken Avery?” she asked.

In a heartbeat, he thought. “Wouldn’t put it past them. They all go through money like it was water, and none of them would turn down an easy way to make some more ‘walking around money,’” he told her with conviction.

Gabby didn’t really have to think about it. He was right. She wouldn’t put it past Darla and her evil spawn to kidnap a baby and hold the child for ransom. Believing them capable of murder, though, was going to take a bit of convincing.

“Want to question them first?” she asked. “Most likely, they’re still in bed asleep, so they’d be easy to find.”

Trevor liked finishing what he started. “Let’s talk to the rest of the people on your list first,” he told her.

“You’re methodical,” she commented, closing the door behind her.

He didn’t like being pigeonholed. “Just need something to look forward to,” Trevor said pointedly.

Gabby didn’t get it. “You look
forward
to questioning them?” She usually went out of her way to avoid contact with any of them.

“Grilling them,” Trevor corrected.

Now it was starting to make sense to her. Gabby smiled at him. “I get it.”

“I figured you would,” he told her as he led the way to his truck. Under all that optimism was a sharp woman, he thought. He paused before opening the door to his truck. “You have any breakfast yet?” he wanted to know.

She’d barely had time to come down the stairs before she heard him enter. “I haven’t even had coffee,” she confessed. “You caught me just a minute after I’d gotten dressed.”

Her words created images in his head without warning, and he caught himself wishing that he’d come over to her side of the mansion just a little bit earlier. Imagining what she’d look like without clothes caused his brain to all but fog up. Only exercising extreme control over his thoughts managed to banish the images—or at least relegate them to some far, dormant region of his mind. A region, he knew, he intended to revisit once all this trouble was behind him.

“Got some coffee and an egg sandwich for you in the truck,” he told her stiffly. Belatedly, he opened the door on her side.

Her mouth dropped when she saw the bulking paper bag on her seat. Gabby stared at him as she got in. Picking up the bag, she could feel that what was inside was still warm. “You’re kidding.”

Her comment didn’t make sense to him. “Why would I kid about that?”

“You cook?” She could see him, in a pinch, slapping a few basic things together, but an egg sandwich took a little creativity. The type of creativity that she felt he lacked. His skills lay elsewhere.

“I cook,” he confirmed, then went on to tell her, “But I didn’t make this.” He nodded at the contents of the paper bag.

As he got in behind the steering wheel, she opened the bag and took out a fried-egg-and-ham combo placed on a toasted muffin. “Mathilda made it,” he told her. “Woman feels really awful about what happened to Faye. They were close.”

The way he said it—as if it was a revelation—made Gabby look at him quizzically as she automatically fastened her seat belt.

“You didn’t know that?” she asked.

He focused only on those things that applied to his job. A friendship between two long-time employees—even if one of those employees was his foster mother—didn’t fall under that category.

“Guess I didn’t pay any attention to it. Didn’t pay attention to a lot of things,” he added as though he were making a confession.

Gabby read her own meaning into his words, wondering if he was talking about her. “No time like the present to change that,” she encouraged. Taking an appreciative bite out of the breakfast sandwich he’d given her, she nodded her approval. “This is really good,” Gabby said.

He said nothing. He was too busy starting up his truck and deciding which of the people left on Gabby’s list they were going to go see first.

* * *

One by one the remaining names on the list were crossed out. Each of them offered plausible alibis for the time in question. Checking out the alibis was simple enough.

It appeared as if the teens Gabby had picked to help because of their potential really would make the most of the opportunity she was sending their way.

And then there was only one more person to see.

The last person on Gabby’s list proved to be far more belligerent than the other disadvantaged teens they’d talked to.

While the others they’d spoken to had all seemed a little defensive, they’d all had alibis to offer, alibis that were easily verified with a minimum of effort.

Pete Simpson, the last name on the list, seemed determined not to tell them anything beyond “I didn’t have nothin’ to do with any murder. Don’t even know who you’re talking about,” he retorted. “All I know was that I wasn’t anywhere near your precious ranch yesterday,” the tall, thin teen who favored dressing all in black spat out.

“Then where were you?” Trevor asked. His tone was stern, demanding.

It must have rubbed Pete the wrong way. “None of your damn business,” he informed Trevor angrily. “Just ’cause I don’t live on a fancy ranch, you think you can pin this all on me?” he demanded hotly. “Well, think again. I’m
not
going down for this.”

“We’re not looking to pin anything on anyone, Pete,” Gabby assured him, keeping her voice gentle, soothing. Her eyes were kind when she made contact with his. Her manner was the direct opposite of Trevor’s. She was counting on bringing the teenager around. “Just tell us where you were yesterday morning from about noon to three.”

It was obvious by the way he watched her that Pete held Gabby in high esteem. But he’d been fighting his own battles since before he’d turned ten and it was hard for him to trust anyone, even someone like Gabby.

“And if I won’t?” he asked.

She looked as if it pained her to give him an answer to that question, but she did.

“Then we’ll have to bring you into the police station and have the chief question you. He doesn’t know you like I do and he won’t be patient, Pete. It’s your choice,” she told him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see how aggravated the whole process was making Trevor. She crossed her fingers in her head, praying that he would keep his temper in check. Otherwise, all bets were off. She didn’t know if she could undo the damage his temper could so easily do.

“If I tell you,” Pete began cautiously, “are you gonna, you know, have to tell anyone?”

She sensed that might be a problem and tried to find an acceptable reason why that was. One particular one stuck in her head. “We’ll have to check out your story with the person you name,” she told him, watching his expression.