Missing

Contents

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The author gratefully acknowledges the

contributions of four outstanding storytellers:

Diane Mott Davidson, Constance Laux,

Emilie Richards and Karen Young.

For Maggie Osborne, who first decided

Ron Raven should be a bigamist,

and for Marsha Zinberg, editor extraordinaire,

who always loved this story.

Prologue

June 8, 2004, Fairfax, Georgia

Adam Fairfax stepped out from behind his desk and greeted his brother-in-law with a smile, a warm handshake and a friendly thump on the shoulder. “Ron, it’s good to see you. How was your flight?”

“No major problems for once, but I travel too much and the flying’s getting real old, if you want to know the truth.” Ron Raven clapped the younger man on the back and pumped his hand. “You’re looking fitter than ever, Adam, damn you. Still running those marathon races of yours?”

“Half marathons these days. It’s all I have time to train for. But I guess I can’t complain. My work schedule’s a stroll in the park compared to yours. Every time I speak to Avery or Paul they tell me you’re on a plane or just getting off one.”

Ron sighed. “Seems that way to me, too, and flying’s no fun these days, that’s for sure. Shuffling through those security lines in your socks is about as enjoyable as watching mold grow on the shower wall.”

Adam reached into his top desk drawer and pulled out the loan agreement that had been ready for his brother-in-law’s signature for the past week. “It must be stressful, too, even when you’ve learned all the insider tips for making the process a bit easier.”

“You’re right, it’s very stressful. My blood pressure’s through the roof.” Ron looked momentarily gloomy, then chuckled. “But that sister of yours is something else. A tyrant who looks like an angel. Avery’s determined to keep me healthy even if we both die in the attempt. She tells me I’ve gotta eat lots of fish and green leafy vegetables and then I’ll live to be a hundred. I told her that if all I can eat is fish and vegetables, why the hell would I want to live that long?”

Adam laughed in sympathy. “But Avery doesn’t listen, of course.”

“Of course not. Just keeps serving the damn spinach. And salmon. That’s her other biggie. I’m surprised you didn’t tell me my skin’s turned orange from all the salmon she makes me eat.”

“That’s my sister for you.” Adam gestured for Ron to sit down. “Beneath the Southern charm, she’s just like our mother—as stubborn as a mule.”

“Well, that’s not unique to Avery, or even your mother! I swear stubborn is built into the female DNA.” Ron chuckled. “Still, I wouldn’t be without ’em, not for all the tea in China. You should try getting married, Adam. Workaholics like us need women to keep us in line.”

“The hell we do.” Adam smiled. “Listening to you always reminds me of all the reasons I’m happy to be a bachelor.”

“You just haven’t met the right woman,” Ron said. “Trust me, you’re gonna fall hard one of these days and then you’ll wonder how you held out so long.”

Adam pulled a wry face. “Has my sister deputized you as her front man? You’re parroting her lines.”

“Well, shoot, Adam, you caught me out. But what do you expect? I’m just a western cowboy. I’m no match for a steel magnolia like your sister. When she gives me orders, I salute and say, Yes, ma’am,” Ron replied. “I’m a brave man, but I’m not stupid.”

Adam sighed. “I’ve learned there are few things in this life harder to resist than the genteel nagging of a Southern lady. I should just give up and marry the next woman Avery parades in front of me.”

“Don’t.” Ron was suddenly serious. “Ignore the nagging, genteel or otherwise.” He stabbed his forefinger into the desk for emphasis. “Despite what I said earlier, don’t marry to satisfy anyone except yourself. I’ve seen what happens when a man marries to please his family and it isn’t pretty.”

“At the moment, I’m in no danger of marrying, period. Running the bank hasn’t left much time for socializing this past year. And speaking of socializing, I hope you have time to stay for lunch today.”

“I was planning on it. Thanks.”

“We’ll go to the Oak Room.” Adam gave a conspiratorial glance. “Their beef is the best in town—and I promise not to report back to Avery if you order French fries.”

“You’re a mighty fine brother-in-law, Adam. Knew I could count on you for more than money.” Ron grinned as he drew out a stack of papers from his briefcase, and Adam grinned back, appreciating his brother-in-law’s camaraderie. Both men were perfectly well aware that Ronald Howatch Raven, founder and senior partner of Raven Enterprises, Inc., could raise money wherever the hell he wanted and that Adam, in fact, was very much the junior partner in this deal, even though he was the man handing over the money.

As the president of the First Bank of Fairfax, a once-rural farm community now located on the far southern rim of Atlanta’s commuter belt, Adam was more accustomed to loaning a few thousand bucks to open a beauty salon or family restaurant than three million dollars to help transform a vast Wyoming cattle ranch into an upscale vacation resort. He was well aware that he would never have been given the opportunity to participate in Ron’s latest real estate venture if not for the fact that his older sister happened to be Ron’s wife.

Adam was honest enough to admit that there were certain ironies involved in authorizing this loan to his brother-in-law. He’d taken over the presidency of the bank from his great-uncle fifteen months ago, a few days after his thirty-first birthday. He recognized that he’d been given the job chiefly because of his name and heritage and was considered a foolish whippersnapper by a significant minority of the board. He’d spent a lot of the past year persuading managers and shareholders that the First Bank of Fairfax was only going to survive if they stopped making loans to friends and relatives and started making loans to entrepreneurs with a decent business plan. Adam hadn’t counted on the fact that the most exciting business plan to cross his desk would come from his brother-in-law.

“Here are the latest architectural drawings for the Flying W project,” Ron said, pushing a stack of papers across Adam’s desk. “Thought you’d like to see them, just to keep abreast of what’s going on. And here are some photos I took myself of the precise area where we’re going to build the lodge. We can look at the plans in more detail over lunch, and you’ll see how we’re going to use the Silver River to define the footprint of the main lodge. As I mentioned before, the river’s perfect for fly fishing.”

“And makes for great views, too, for the visitors who don’t care to fish.” Adam picked up a picture of the river, foaming with white water, from the many calendar-worthy snapshots Ron had spread out on the desk. “Damn, but this is beautiful country.”

“Between the river and the Tetons, I’d say we’re going to wow the tourists. This is a can’t-fail project, in my opinion.”

“I agree. The development potential of this location is fantastic.”

Ron pulled a face. “Fact is, the ranching operation should have been shut down years ago, but I’ve been too busy to take care of the arrangements. To be honest, I don’t get back to Wyoming as often as I should.”

“You’ve always said that your ranch manager is excellent. That must make it easier to keep everything ticking.”

“You’re exactly right.” Ron nodded reflectively. “If the Flying W ranch manager hadn’t been so good, I’d have been forced to move forward with the redevelopment years ago.”

“Has your manager found a new job? Ranching isn’t exactly a growing industry these days.”

“He’s going to be fine.” Ron didn’t elaborate on the fate of his ranch manager. “Anyway, you’ll be pleased to hear I’ve had no trouble raising the rest of the capital we need to fully fund the project. I anticipate that we’ll be breaking ground within the next couple of weeks. Unfortunately, the building season isn’t long, but I’m optimistic that we’ll have at least the main building under roof before winter sets in.”

Adam stacked the photos into a neat pile. “I’m delighted that the First Bank of Fairfax can share in the development of the resort and I appreciate your willingness to include us among your investors. I’m convinced that, over the next decade, luxury accommodation with access to surrounding wilderness will become more and more popular as a vacation destination.”

“You’re singing my song,” Ron said. “I’m real happy to have this chance to work with you, Adam. Hope it’s the first venture among many. You have the paperwork on the loan ready to go, I take it?”

“Yes, I have everything waiting for you to sign.” Adam twisted the file folder around on his desk.

Ron held up his elegant Mont Blanc pen. “If you have the papers, I have the pen.” He put on a pair of reading glasses and flipped through the five double-spaced pages, skimming. “I assume this is a duplicate of the agreement you couriered to me last week?”

“Yes. The only changes are the two you suggested.” Adam referred to his notes. “They’re both on page three. We’ve substituted the revised wording you requested regarding precisely when and how the loan can be called.” He smiled. “As long as you don’t die, we’re being very generous.”

“Give me a minute to check through this one more time.” Ron hadn’t turned an inheritance of a hardscrabble ranch and less than fifty thousand dollars into a fortune of several million by being careless about the documents he signed.

He read in silence for ten full minutes, concentrating fiercely, and then glanced up, his friendly expression returning. “Everything looks to be in order.” He extracted another sheet of paper from his briefcase and pushed it across the desk. “Here are the instructions as to where you should wire the three million. You’ll see that I’ve provided you with both my personal account number and the wire-routing number for my bank.”

“Thanks.” Adam slipped the instruction sheet into the Flying W Development loan file. “The funds will be transferred Monday, and they’ll be available immediately. Let me call in our notary public and we’ll get these documents signed.” Adam pressed his intercom button and spoke to his assistant. “Gayle, could you step into my office to witness Mr. Raven’s signature, please?”

Gayle Tummins came into the office in less than thirty seconds, her official record book tucked under her arm. Ron initialed each page of the loan agreement in triplicate, signing with a flourish. Adam added his signature to each copy and Gayle completed the formalities with her notary seal, her license number and her own signature.

Ron thanked the clerk and then turned to Adam with a big smile. “Okay, now that’s taken care of, we can move on to the fun stuff. Let’s go to the Oak Room and order ourselves a couple of prime steaks and some honest-to-God, artery-clogging French fries.”

Adam reached for his sunglasses. “Sounds like a great plan to me. Shall we walk? It’s less than three blocks and it’s not too hot today.”

“Lead the way, since you’re the man who knows where we’re going.” Ron was happy to let Adam precede him. He needed a few seconds to conceal the adrenaline rush that always accompanied a successful scam. Not that this was a scam, exactly. He fully intended to pay back the money, as soon as Las Criandas started to generate some profits and he had access to funds that wouldn’t be scrutinized either in Chicago or Wyoming. It was damn annoying to have so much money and not to be able to access any of it when you really needed to. He should never have taken on Paul Fairfax as his partner. True, the guy was a moron—which helped—but even a moron would notice three million bucks missing from the partnership accounts.

Ron followed Adam across the marble-floored bank lobby, giving a friendly nod to various clerks and tellers, his amiable expression concealing the intensity of his focus. He always tried to create the impression that he’d succeeded in business more by good luck and fortunate friendships than because of a sky-high IQ and a bone-deep instinct for profitable deals. He was not in the least averse to having his brother-in-law underestimate him. Adam Fairfax was acquiring quite a reputation in Atlanta banking circles as an outstanding manager and a fine, intuitive judge of character. In Ron’s opinion, Adam was the smart one in his family. Paul was all showmanship and no brains. Adam, it seemed, was going to be a very different sort of businessman—which wasn’t good news, from Ron’s point of view. He had to make sure there wasn’t a single note in his pitch that was off-key. God forbid if Adam should ever become suspicious. Lately, there’d been altogether too much suspicion going around.

Ron always appreciated the feeling of power that came from deceiving people, and after a bad start, this project to raise three million bucks was turning out to be one of his more satisfying ventures. He loved the symmetry of it: Ted Horn needed to be paid off, and he was using Ellie’s land and Avery’s brother to rustle up the necessary funds. Playing off one end against the other and both ends against the middle. What you might call a real satisfying game plan.

None of which, of course, had anything to do with development plans for the Flying W. Although one of these years he might even get around to building the resort, if he could ever manage to talk Ellie into giving up the ranching life. Now that he’d written up the business plan, the idea of a wilderness-vacation resort struck him as potentially a hell of a lot more profitable than raising cattle. The location of the Flying W, reasonably close to Jackson Hole, was a huge factor in its favor.

“You’re looking very pleased with yourself,” Adam commented as they exited the bank.

“I’m thinking about the steak I’m going to order,” Ron said. “Medium rare, with horseradish on the side. Hell, what red-blooded American male wouldn’t be looking happy?”

Adam laughed.

Sometimes pulling off a scam was almost too easy, Ron decided, blinking as they emerged into the full glare of the midday sun. Especially when your mark was somebody as honest as Adam Fairfax. He’d discovered over the years that it was the honest folk who were far and away the easiest to deceive. Ellie, for example. And Avery, too, despite her superficial sophistication. Pity he couldn’t tell anyone what a brilliantly smart deal he’d just put in place.

Adam Fairfax might not know it, but he’d just saved his brother-in-law’s cheating ass. Ron was duly grateful.

One

May 2, 2006, Thatch, Stark County, Wyoming

Harold J. Ford, Sheriff of Stark County, wished like hell that he were somewhere else. Almost anywhere other than here would feel pretty good to him right now. Despite the spring sunshine and budding wildflowers, the familiar road leading to the Flying W ranch struck him as slightly less appealing than the frozen tundra of Alaska in midwinter. Unfortunately, there had been no stray cows or broken tractors to slow him down and he’d made the journey out from town in record time. He was now less than half a mile from Ellie Raven’s front porch and he still had no clue what he was going to say to her.

He braked to give a couple of white-tailed prairie dogs time to scurry across the rutted gravel driveway, then drew his official Jeep Cherokee to an unusually quiet and sober stop on the patch of blacktop in front of the Flying W’s machine-storage shed.

A pair of quarter horses were munching grass in the side pasture and he gave them an envious stare. One of the horses stared back, new spring grass dangling from the side of its mouth, the picture of equine contentment. Lucky damn horse. Harry sighed. Some days it really sucked to be the sheriff of Stark County.

Ellie, thank God, must be working in the kitchen out back, as she didn’t come to the door to greet him. Another brief reprieve. Harry threw a frustrated punch at the steering wheel. Unfortunately, bruising his knuckles did nothing to sharpen his brain function. He rubbed his sore hands, mentally rehearsing a couple of possible opening lines before giving up with a disgusted exclamation. Jesus, how was he going to find the words to tell Ellie about her husband? Everything he’d come up with since he got the call from the cops in Miami seemed insulting, patronizing or just plain heartless.

Megan, Ellie’s daughter, came to the front door and whistled for the dogs, waving when she saw him. Harry waved back, finally forcing himself to step out of the car. He gave the dogs an absentminded pat as they bounded past him.

It was a big relief to discover that Megan was at the ranch. Harry had called her apartment in Jackson Hole before he left town, but he’d reached her answering machine. Then he’d called the fancy ski lodge where she worked. They’d told him she wasn’t scheduled to come in again until Wednesday, which wasn’t surprising since this was the off-season: too late for skiing and too early for the summer crowd. Harry had been afraid Megan might have left for a minivacation in Denver or Salt Lake City. Unless you were fascinated by watching cows swat flies, Stark County didn’t provide much in the way of entertainment for a young, single woman. But Megan, thank God, was here and he’d count that as a blessing. At least Ellie would have her daughter right beside her when he delivered the news.

“Hi, Harry. What’s up?” Megan greeted him with a smile, not waiting for an answer to her own question as she butted the front door open with her hip and shooed the dogs inside. She was a dynamo of energy, packed into a curvaceous five-foot-two-inch package. Conversations with Megan tended to be conducted at warp speed. “How is it that every time Mom bakes one of her chocolate-fudge cakes, all the neighbors know to come calling?”

Harry didn’t joke as he usually would. “I’m here on official business, Megan. May I come in?”

“Of course.” Megan shot him a glance that was still more surprised than worried. She gestured him inside. “Official business, huh? Has there been another report about wolves in the area?”

“Plenty up near Yellowstone, but nothing in this county, or I’d have heard about it. We’re hoping the one Jerry Hotchkiss spotted last month was the proverbial lone wolf.” Harry realized he was babbling and clamped his mouth shut. Tucking his uniform hat under his arm, he followed Megan into the living room. Ellie had told him about the new sofa and chairs she’d ordered online—her first Internet purchase—and they had been delivered since the last time he stopped by the ranch. The sofa loomed big and golden in the middle of the room, and the copper-colored armchairs flanked the massive brick fireplace where before there had been empty space. Maybe that was why the familiar room suddenly looked so alien.

“If it’s not wolves, what’s going on?” This time Megan clearly expected an answer. “You look upset, Harry.”

“Yeah, I’m upset. This is going to be very difficult. Fact is, I’ve been given some bad news to pass on.” There was nothing for it but to say what had to be said. “Could you ask your mother to come in here, please?”

“You’re scaring me, Harry.” Megan finally looked alarmed. She drew in a shallow, nervous breath. “Has something happened to my father? Or my brother?”

Her spectacular green eyes darkened with foreboding when he didn’t interrupt to reassure her. “Oh my God. There’s been an accident, hasn’t there? Is it Liam? Or Dad?”

“Something like that.” Before he had time to say more, Ellie pushed open the swinging door that led from the kitchen straight into the living room. Harry found himself thinking that nowadays builders would consider a door like that a lawsuit waiting to happen. Then he realized he couldn’t avoid looking at Ellie for the rest of the afternoon, so he shifted his gaze to meet with hers.

Her green eyes, slightly more hazel than Megan’s, were warm, friendly and unreservedly happy to see him. “Hi, Harry. What’s up? I didn’t expect to see you this week.”

He cleared his throat. “Hi, Ellie.” He didn’t ask how she was doing or make a comment about the weather, and she immediately responded to his somber mood. Her smile switched off with the abruptness of a snuffed candle.

Her hand went to her throat. “Harry, what is it?”

“I’m sorry, Ellie, but I’m not here on a social visit. Truth is, I just finished a long phone call with a detective sergeant in Miami.”

“Miami?” She tilted her head in a frightened question. “That’s where Ron was going on Sunday morning.”

“Yeah, I know.” Now that the moment couldn’t be delayed any longer, Harry spoke crisply, standing straight, draping himself in the mantle of his professional obligations. He needed to handle this like the sheriff of Stark County, not like a friend who’d known Ellie since the eighth grade. And he definitely shouldn’t handle it like a man who had always thought Ellie deserved a better husband than Ron Raven.

“I’m sorry, Ellie, but there’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll give it to you straight. The police in Miami called me because they think that Ron has met with an accident. There’s signs of a struggle in his hotel room.” The sheriff breathed deeply. “Fact is, the police believe there’s a chance that he’s dead.”

“No! That’s impossible! Not Dad!” Megan’s protest was harsh with shock, but Ellie said nothing. She stood rock still, except for her forefinger, which tapped in a quick, erratic rhythm against her throat. Harry had expected her to sob uncontrollably and he’d been terrified he’d have to comfort her, which almost guaranteed he’d end up saying all the wrong things. Like, I hope he is dead. You’re better off without the bastard. Or, you could have married me and saved both of us from choosing the wrong person. Her unnaturally restrained reaction struck him as even worse than his imaginings.

Megan wasn’t anywhere near as controlled as her mother. Tears running down her cheeks, she put her arm protectively around Ellie’s shoulders and hugged her close, ignoring her mother’s unyielding stiffness. She rocked her gently back and forth and Ellie didn’t resist, although she didn’t respond, either. But the fact that Megan was comforting her mother at least made it easier for Harry to resist the urge to walk over and hug Ellie at the same time as he yelled insults at Ron. Goddammit, Ellie was a good woman, one of the best, and she didn’t deserve what was coming down the pike.

Unlike her mother, Megan soon recovered her wits enough to ask the obvious question. “What do you mean, the police in Miami think my father is dead? Don’t they know? How can you be confused about whether a person is alive or dead, for God’s sake?”

“The police haven’t found Ron’s body—” Harry corrected himself out of deference to the fragile hope that Ron might still be alive. “I mean, they haven’t found Ron yet, so they can’t be a hundred percent sure what’s happened to him. He’s definitely missing from his hotel. The cops are pretty sure he must be either seriously injured or dead, but they’ve checked all the hospitals in southeastern Florida and he’s not a patient anywhere—”