The Coltons: Fisher, Ryder & Quinn

Chapter 14

Their Internet search on Howard Engeleit immediately revealed hundreds of hits on the man.

As Macy skimmed through the various Web search results, it became apparent that Joe Colton wasn’t kidding about Howard making himself money as a mover and shaker. There was account after account of Howard’s business dealings, including some questionable ones. Much as Joe had said, Howard was in the midst of a difficult divorce but as luck would have it, the news articles mentioned a young daughter. Sara.

On one Dallas gossip page, there was even a picture of Howard, his wife Amanda and their daughter Sara. Howard’s presence dominated the photo and Macy immediately got vibes from the submissive body posture of both his wife and daughter.

With Fisher sitting beside her and reading along, she gestured to the two women in the photo and pointed out how they seemed to be uneasy. “See their body posture and their eyes are downcast. Howard’s clearly the one in control here.”

Fisher nodded and agreed. “I’ve seen the same kind of body language on fresh recruits. He’s definitely the one calling the shots.”

“It may be more than that. Sara had bruises on her arms and hands when she first got to the ranch. If Howard was responsible, Sara might feel powerless to say anything about the abuse.”

Fisher leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hand across his lips, thoughtful for a moment. “He’s wealthy and connected, so who would believe her?”

She nodded emphatically. “Exactly. And if he’s suing for custody of her—”

“He would have free rein to keep on abusing her.” Fisher shook his head, sat up in the chair and clasped his hands together tightly. “It’s sad that a father would do that to his child. That she feels there’s no one there she can turn to.”

“It’s probably why she came to the ranch.”

Fisher glanced up the stairs toward T.J.’s room. “Do you think he knows about the abuse? Is that why he’s protecting her?”

She thought of T.J. and how much he was like the man who had raised him. Tim had been good-hearted and prone to helping others. But also, deep within her son were the genes from the man sitting beside her. A man of action. A hero. Combine the two and it was starting to make sense that T.J. was somehow involved with helping the young woman.

“I think that T.J. believes he’s doing what’s right for Sara, but the best thing would be to tell us what’s happening so the authorities can handle this,” she admitted.

He nodded, but then his gaze dropped down at his hands for a moment before he faced her. “There are times when a man has to make his own stand no matter what the rules say about what’s right.”

She heard him, but couldn’t agree. Laying her hand on his tightly clasped ones, she said, “But he’s not a man, Fisher. He’s a boy. A scared and confused young boy.”

Fisher eased his hands away from hers and pointed to the monitor. “You said that the deputy mentioned that Sara had been at a place up on the highway before she came to the ranch. We should print out that picture of her and check out that honky tonk. She might have run back there again.”

She felt dismissed much as she suspected his men might feel when he gave them an order. She tried not to take it personally, telling herself that he was a man used to being in charge and making decisions.

But she was also used to being in control of her own life. Some might say she hadn’t done a good job of it—heck, she even felt that way at times—but she had tried her best.

Her silence must have registered with him since he shifted his attention from the monitor and the prints he was making and back to her.

The strain on Macy’s face was evident and Fisher struggled for a moment with a reason for it until it finally came. “Do you want to go that place on the highway or is there something else you think we should do?”

“I know you’re used to taking control—”

“It’s a hard habit to break,” he freely admitted. In his life a delay in decision-making could cost someone their life, but he understood this wasn’t the military.

“I didn’t mean to order you around only…I feel like you and T.J. are my responsibility now.” He paused as the strain on her face increased and sadness crept into her eyes. He wondered at it once again, although she was quick to make the reasons clear.

“Is that all we are? A responsibility?”

He mumbled a curse beneath his breath, regretting that his time alone and in the Army had seemingly cost him so many of his skills with women. Needing to reach her, both physically and emotionally, he cupped her cheek and tenderly ran his finger along the ridge of her cheekbone.

“I’m so not good at this, Macy,” he confessed.

“This? As in—”

“Family life. Personal relationships. I don’t know how to deal with the kinds of things you’ve had to handle. Difficult things like Tim’s death and T.J.’s problems.”

“I’ve done the best I could,” she replied, defensiveness in every line of her body and the tight tone in her voice.

“You have and asking for my help isn’t a bad thing…I don’t think. But there’s a lot I have to deal with also and I’m trying to do it the best that I can as well.” He couldn’t say it, but his reawakened feelings for Macy and the surprise announcement that he had a son were creating doubt within him. Doubt about the decisions he had made in his life. Doubt about the future he had thought to be fairly certain.

Now nothing seemed sure anymore except for the fact that he had to help Macy and T.J. His honor demanded it. He just hoped his heart would be intact when it was all over.

Macy nodded and after a shaky inhalation, her words came out on a rushed breath. “We’ll do the best we can together for now.”

Together for now. It seemed like the best thing they could hope for at that moment.

“Do you want to go to this honky tonk?” he asked again, trying for that togetherness.

The tension ebbed slowly from her body. “I think that’s a good idea. I just want to check on T.J. first. Is that okay?”

“That sounds fine.”

She laid her hand over his as it rested on her cheek, the action achingly tender and causing a funky tightening in his heart.

“Thank you for trying.”

He bit back the words he had been about to say—that it was the least he could do. He had never believed in doing the least of anything in his whole life and Macy and T.J. certainly deserved more from him. Instead he said, “I will give it my all to make sure this comes out right.”

A glimmer of a smile came to her face. “I’m certain you will.”

Her trust in him moved him once again, choking his throat tight. Unable to say more for fear of what he might say, he nodded.

“I’m going to go check on T.J. and then we’ll go, okay?”

“Okay,” he managed to eke out and returned his attention to printing out larger pictures of Sara, both alone and with her parents.

He heard the tread of her steps going up the stairs and past the whir of the ink-jet printer, the soft and loving way she called T.J.’s name. A moment later, she descended the steps again and reentered the kitchen carrying the tray with the empty plates and glasses with T.J.’s lunch.

“He’s sound asleep again. I left him a note that we were stepping out for a little while,” she advised and went to the sink to clean the plates.

“That’s good. It’ll give us some time to visit this place and try to figure out where Sara may have gone.” With a final thunk-thunk, the printer spit out the last sheet of paper with the photo of Sara.

He stood, picked up the papers, folded them neatly and tucked them into the pocket of his chambray shirt. Macy joined him just a second later.

“Are you ready to go?”

She nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The Amarillo Rose sat on one of the smaller county roads, but one well-traveled by truckers avoiding the sometimes more crowded state highways. Sitting smack dab in between Esperanza and another rural town, the location made it a great watering hole for the truckers who were headed from the Corpus Christi area to Lubbock or other northern cities.

The paint on the sprawling one story structure was a faded color which had probably once been yellow based on the name of the place and the slightly more colorful neon sign of a yellow rose close to the roadway. A couple of tractor trailers were parked off to the side of the building and a Chevy Silverado that was at least a decade old sat near the door.

As they walked by the truck, they noticed the name of a fish company painted on the door along with a Dallas address.

Macy took it to be a good sign.

She entered first, her eyes adjusting to the dimmer light. A small podium stood by the door and beyond that, a long bar to the left. In the center of the space were dozens of tables and chairs and to the far right, a small dance floor and bandstand.

Plastic bunting in red, white and blue emblazoned with the name of a local beer hung from the ceilings. The walls were adorned with yet more ads and neon signs for an assortment of beers.

At the bar, a bartender was filling a glass with beer while a waitress laid out a plate for one of the three customers seated at the counter.

Fisher placed a hand at the small of her back and after a quick exchange of gazes, urged her toward the bar. She took a seat as did he and the bartender approached after setting the beer in front of one of the patrons. He slapped down paper coasters on the relatively clean surface of the bar.

“What can I get you folks?” He inclined his head in Macy’s direction.

“An iced tea for me,” she answered and Fisher immediately added, “And another for me.”

The bartender quickly shifted away to get their orders and the waitress came to their side, held the menus before her as she said, “Can I get you folks some food? We’ve got a mean five alarm chili today as well as a to die for peach cobbler.”

Fisher met her glance for only a second. “Peach cobbler for me. With vanilla ice cream if you’ve got it.”

“We sure do, honey. What about you, ma’am. Same thing as your husband?” the waitress asked.

Macy was about to protest her mistake, but then thought better of it. If the waitress thought they were concerned parents searching for their daughter, she might be more inclined to help them. “I’ll just have the cobbler, thanks.”

The waitress walked away to fill their orders while the bartender came by with their drinks. “Here you go, folks. Is there anything else I can get you?”

Fisher pulled the photo of Sara from his pocket and as he did so, she quickly spoke up. “My husband and I are looking for our daughter, Sara.”

Fisher masked his surprise well, she thought, as he pushed forward the picture they had taken off the Internet.

“We think she might have come through here. Maybe a couple of weeks ago,” Fisher said.

The bartender peered at the photo and then called out to one of the men sitting farther down the bar, “Maybe only…Hey, Billy Joe. Didn’t you say that you gave a young girl a ride a few days ago?”

Billy Joe, a grizzled older man sporting a trucker’s hat, slid off his stool and approached them. Leaning toward the picture on the bar, he placed his hands on his lips and tipped the hat back, exposing his Marine-buzzed salt and pepper hair.

“Yep. Picked her up just outside of Esperanza on…” The man rubbed the thick graying stubble on his cheeks as he tried to recollect. Finally, he said, “I think about two nights ago. She was on the road all by herself trying to get back to some ranch just outside of town.”

“The Hopechest Ranch?” she asked and the old man nodded.

“I think that was the place. Dropped her off at the end of the driveway and she hightailed it up to the front door and went in.”

“Your company’s from Dallas, though, right. Do you do the drive from there regularly?” Fisher asked.

“I do. Funny you should mention that,” the old man said, still rubbing at his cheeks. “When the young lady saw the name on the truck, she asked me if I was headed to Dallas. Seemed to me she didn’t want to go back there if she could avoid it.”

“Have any other strangers passed through here recently?” she asked, glancing back and forth between the bartender and truck driver. The waitress came over at that moment with their cobblers as the bartender said, “Have you seen any new faces around, Alice?”

A frown created a ridge above the older woman’s eyebrows as she considered the question. “Just that salesman who said he was on his way to San Antonio. Didn’t seem like much of a salesman to me.”

“Why’s that?” Fisher questioned.

“Got the most expensive thing on the menu. Didn’t ask for a receipt and left a lousy tip,” she said and wiggled her fingers to indicate that she wanted to see the photo.

After Fisher handed it over and she examined it, she said, “Don’t remember the girl.”

He pulled the other photo from his pocket and passed it to the waitress. “Was this the salesman?”

She glanced at it, but shook her head and placed the photo on the counter of the bar. “Don’t recognize him.”

“Me, neither,” said the truck driver as did the bartender.

She exchanged a glance with Fisher, who handed the bartender the photo of Sara. “Do you think you could keep this just in case Sara comes by again? We can give you a phone number where you can call us.”

“Sure.” The bartender plucked a pen from inside his apron and jotted down the cell phone number that Macy provided.

Although they had ordered the desserts, she had no appetite thanks to the disappointment of discovering virtually nothing about Sara. The only worthwhile information they could pass to Jericho when he returned in a day or two would be the name of the company that the truck driver worked for and the license plate number. It wouldn’t be all that much harder for Jericho to get the man’s name based on that and their description of the truck driver. She didn’t believe the older man had done anything, but Jericho could hopefully confirm that the man had no prior record.

Fisher bent close to her and whispered in her ear. “Do you want to go?”

“I’m not really very hungry,” she admitted.

He brushed a kiss along her brow and laid his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go home then. Maybe T.J. will be able to tell us more once we tell him what we know about Sara’s dad.”

The tenderness of that caress chased away some of the disappointment. “Let’s go home,” she confirmed.

Chapter 15

They were on their way to Macy’s, but it must have occurred to her that they would have to go past the Hopechest Ranch to reach her house.

She laid a hand on his arm as he drove the Jeep along the country road. “Do you mind if we drop by the ranch and speak to Jewel? I’d like to share what little we have and see if she maybe has some information for us.”

“Not a problem.” He slowed the Jeep as they neared the driveway for the ranch, then turned onto it and drove up to the front of the house.

After he had parked, he said, “Do you want me to go with you?”

“Of course. Together, right?”

Together for now, he thought, but couldn’t disappoint. She had been too discouraged after their visit to the roadside canteen. Because of that, he nodded and followed her as she walked to the front door and entered, calling out Jewel’s name as she did so.

A very pregnant woman—Mexican, young and pretty—was the first one to respond.

“Macy. Miss Jewel is in the library with Joe,” the woman said.

“Is something wrong, Ana?”

Ana wrung her hands together and glanced toward the back of the house. “Joe said he had to talk to Miss Jewel. That he had something to tell her about Sara.”

Macy placed her hand over her stomach and wavered on her feet. Fisher was immediately there, his hand at her shoulder to offer support and comfort.

“Let’s go see if Jewel can talk to us,” he said and squeezed her shoulder.

She reached up and placed her hand on his, seeking his solace and he offered it, easing his hand down so that she could grab hold of it.

Together they walked the few steps back to the library, a moderately sized room filled with books, a leather sofa and chairs as well as a small table where the children could read or study with some measure of quiet.

The door was ajar as they approached and Macy could hear the gentle tones of Jewel’s voice as she spoke to Joe.

She knocked on the door, but no one responded. She was about to knock again when Jewel came to the entrance to the library.

“Macy. I’m so glad you’re here.” Her sharp-eyed gaze immediately went to Fisher behind her, down to where their hands were joined and then back up to her face.

“You have news?” Jewel asked.

“Not all that much unfortunately. And you?”

Jewel opened the door wide and held out her arm. “Why don’t you come in. You need to hear what Joe just told me.”

Her stomach did a little flip-flop, sensing the news would not be good. She tightened her hand on Fisher’s.

They entered the room. Joe was seated on the maroon leather coach, but stood as he saw them. He nodded his head in greeting and said, “Mrs. Ward. Mr. Yates.”

As anxious as she was, she couldn’t muster the energy for niceties. “Your aunt tells us that you’ve got something we should hear.”

The boy shifted from foot to foot and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He inhaled deeply and held it before finally speaking. “I saw Sara and T.J. together the afternoon before she disappeared. They were by themselves at the corral and Sara seemed upset.”

“Upset with T.J.?” Fisher asked, but the boy quickly shook his head.