Dark Horse

Burdened by family secrets, this cowboy rides alone

For twenty-five years, the case of the McGraw twins kidnapping has remained unsolved. As the eldest son, Cull oversees the McGraw horse ranch, wary of prying eyes. So when true-crime writer Nikki St. James comes forward with new information, Cull can’t believe his father invites her onto the compound. His family has suffered enough—he’s not about to let St. James snoop and ruin them completely. But Nikki finds the eldest McGraw’s protectiveness as endearing as it is aggravating. After all, this case is personal to her, too… And her secrets can set the truth free—if they don’t destroy the McGraws first.

Whitehorse, Montana: The McGraw Kidnapping

“What kind of man are you?”

He shifted those blue eyes to her, welding her to the spot. “The kind who knows a lost cause when he sees one.”

“We’ve already had this argument. I’m not leaving, and I’m guessing your father isn’t giving up. He still wants me to do the book.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “And unless I’m wrong, which I don’t believe I am, he asked you to help me.”

He chuckled as he shook his head again. “All you’re doing is making things worse for everyone, including yourself.”

“Don’t you want to know the kind of woman I am?” When he said nothing, she continued, “I’m like your father. When I start something I finish it.”

Cull seemed to consider that before he turned toward her, his lips quirking into a grin as his eyes blazed with challenge. “Is that right?”

Dark Horse

B.J. Daniels

www.millsandboon.co.uk

B.J. DANIELS is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author. She wrote her first book after a career as an award-winning newspaper journalist and author of thirty-seven published short stories. She lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, and three springer spaniels. When not writing, she quilts, boats and plays tennis. Contact her at www.bjdaniels.com, on Facebook or on, Twitter, @bjdanielsauthor.

This Whitehorse, Montana book is for Sue Olsen,

who has brightened many a day for me with her zest for life.

I just wish I had her energy.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Their footfalls echoed among the terrified screams and woeful sobbing as they moved down the long hallway. The nurse’s aide, a young woman named Tess, stopped at a room in the criminally insane section of the hospital and, with trembling fingers, pulled out a key to unlock the door.

“I really shouldn’t be doing this,” Tess said, looking around nervously. As the door swung open, she quickly moved back. Nikki St. James felt a gust of air escape the room like an exhaled breath. The light within the interior was dim, but she could hear the sound of a chair creaking rhythmically.

“I’m going to have to lock the door behind you,” Tess whispered.

“Not yet.” It took a moment for Nikki’s eyes to adjust to the dim light within the room. She fought back the chill that skittered over her skin like spider legs as her gaze finally lit on the occupant.

“This is the wrong one,” Nikki said, and tried to step back into the hallway.

“That’s her,” the nurse’s aide said, keeping her voice down. “That’s Marianne McGraw.”

Nikki stared at the white-haired, slack-faced woman rocking back and forth, back and forth, her gaze blank as if blind. “That woman is too old. Her hair—”

“Her hair turned white overnight after...well, after what happened. She’s been like this ever since.” Tess shuddered and hugged herself as if she felt the same chill Nikki did.

“She hasn’t spoken in all that time?”

“Not a word. Her husband comes every day to visit her. She never responds.”

Nikki was surprised that Travers McGraw would come to visit his former wife at all, given what she was suspected of doing. Maybe, like Nikki, he came hoping for answers. “What about her children?”

“They visit occasionally, the oldest son more than the others, but she doesn’t react as if she knows any of them. That’s all she does, rock like that for hours on end.”

Cull McGraw, the oldest son, Nikki thought. He’d been seven, a few years older than her, at the time of the kidnapping. His brothers Boone and Ledger were probably too young to remember the kidnapping, maybe even too young to really remember their mother.

“If you’re going in, you’d best hurry,” Tess said, still looking around nervously.

Nikki took a step into the room, hating the thought of the nurse’s aide locking the door behind her. As her eyes adjusted more to the lack of light, she saw that the woman had something clutched against her chest. A chill snaked up her spine as she made out two small glassy-eyed faces looking out at her from under matted heads of blond hair.

“What’s that she’s holding?” she whispered hoarsely as she hurriedly turned to Tess before the woman could close and lock the door.

“Her babies.”

“Her babies?”

“They’re just old dolls. They need to be thrown in the trash. We tried to switch them with new ones, but she had a fit. When we bathe or change her, we have to take them away. She screams and tears at her hair until we give them back. It was the doctor’s idea, giving her the dolls. Before that, she was...violent. She had to be sedated or you couldn’t get near her. Like I said, you go in there at your own risk. She’s...unpredictable and if provoked, dangerous since she’s a lot stronger than she looks. If I were you, I’d make it quick.”

Nikki reached for her notebook as the door closed behind her. The tumblers in the lock sounded like a cannon going off as Tess locked the door.

At your own risk. Comforting words, Nikki thought as she took a tentative step deeper into the padded room. She’d read everything she could find on the McGraw kidnapping case. There’d been a lot of media coverage at the time—and a lot of speculation. Every anniversary for years, the same information had been repeated along with the same plea for anything about the two missing twins, Oakley Travers McGraw and Jesse Rose McGraw.

But no one had ever come forward. The ransom money had never been recovered nor the babies found. There’d been nothing new to report at the one-year anniversary, then the five, ten, fifteen and twenty year.

Now with the twenty-fifth one coming up, few people other than those around Whitehorse, Montana, would probably even remember the kidnapping.

“There is nothing worse than old news,” her grandfather had told her when she’d dropped by his office at the large newspaper where he was publisher. Wendell St. James had been sitting behind his huge desk, his head of thick gray hair as wild as his eyebrows, his wire-rimmed glasses perched precariously on his patrician nose. “You’re wasting your time with this one.”

Actually he thought she was wasting her time writing true crime books. He’d hoped that she would follow him into the newspaper business instead. It didn’t matter that out of the nine books she’d written, she’d solved seven of the crimes.

“Someone knows what happened that night,” she’d argued.

“Well, if they do, it’s a pretty safe bet they aren’t going to suddenly talk after twenty-five years.”

“Maybe they’re getting old and they can’t live with what they’ve done,” she’d said. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

He’d snorted and settled his steely gaze on her. “I wasn’t for the other stories you chased, but this one...” He shook his head. “Don’t you think I know what you’re up to? I suspect this is your mother’s fault. She just couldn’t keep her mouth shut, could she?”

“She didn’t tell me about my father,” she’d corrected her grandfather. “I discovered it on my own.” For years, she’d believed she was the daughter of a stranger her mother had fallen for one night. A mistake. “All these years, the two of you have lied to me, letting me believe I was an accident, a one-night stand and that explained why I had my mother’s maiden name.”

“We protected you, you mean. And now you’ve got some lamebrained idea of clearing your father’s name.” Wendell swore under his breath. “My daughter has proven that she is the worst possible judge of men, given her track record. But I thought you were smarter than this.”

“There was no real proof my father was involved,” Nikki had argued stubbornly. Her biological father had been working at the Sundown Stallion Station the summer of the kidnapping. His name had been linked with Marianne McGraw’s, the mother of the twins. “Mother doesn’t believe he had an affair with Marianne, nor does she believe he had any part in the kidnapping.”

“What do you expect your mother to say?” he’d demanded.

“She knew him better than you.”

Her grandfather mugged a disbelieving face. “What else did she tell you about the kidnapping?”

Her mother had actually known little. While Nikki would have demanded answers, her mother said she was just happy to visit with her husband, since he was locked up until his trial.

“She didn’t ask him anything about the kidnapping because your mother wouldn’t have wanted to hear the truth.”

She’d realized then that her grandfather’s journalistic instincts had clearly skipped a generation. Nikki would have had to know everything about that night, even if it meant finding out that her husband was involved.

“A jury of twelve found him guilty of not only the affair—but the kidnapping,” her grandfather had said.

“On circumstantial evidence.”

“On the testimony of the nanny who said that Marianne McGraw wasn’t just unstable, she feared she might hurt the twins. The nanny also testified that she saw Marianne with your father numerous times in the barn and they seemed...close.”

She’d realized that her grandfather knew more about this case than he’d originally let on. “Yes, the nanny, the woman who is now the new wife of Travers McGraw. That alone is suspicious. I would think you’d encourage me to get the real story of what happened that night. And what does...close mean anyway?”

Her grandfather had put down his pen with an impatient sigh. “The case is dead cold after twenty-five years. Dozens of very good reporters, not to mention FBI agents and local law enforcement, did their best to solve it, so what in hell’s name makes you think that you can find something that they missed?”

She’d shrugged. “I have my grandfather’s stubborn arrogance and the genes of one of the suspects. Why not me?”

He’d wagged his gray head again. “Because you’re too personally involved, which means that whatever story you get won’t be worth printing.”

She’d dug her heels in. “I became a true crime writer because I wanted to know more than what I read in the newspapers.”

“Bite your tongue,” her grandfather said, only half joking. He sobered then, looking worried. “What if you don’t like what you find out about your father, or your mother, for that matter? I know my daughter.”

“What does that mean?”

He gave another shake of his gray head. “Clearly your mind is made up and since I can’t sanction this...” With an air of dismissal, he picked up his pen again. “If that’s all...”

She started toward the door but before she could exit, he called after her, “Watch your back, Punky.” It had been his nickname for her since she was a baby. “Remember what I told you about family secrets.”

People will kill to keep them, she thought now as she looked at Marianne McGraw.

The woman’s rocking didn’t change as Nikki stepped deeper into the room. “Mrs. McGraw?” She glanced behind her. The nurse’s aide stood just outside the door, glancing at her watch.

Nikki knew she didn’t have much time. It hadn’t been easy getting in here. It had cost her fifty bucks after she’d found the nurse’s aide was quitting soon to get married. She would have paid a lot more since so few people had laid eyes on Marianne McGraw in years.

She reached in her large purse for the camera she’d brought. No reporter had gotten in to see Marianne McGraw. Nikki had seen a photograph of Marianne McGraw taken twenty-five years ago, before her infant fraternal twins, a boy and girl, had been kidnapped. She’d been a beauty at thirty-two, a gorgeous dark-haired woman with huge green eyes and a contagious smile.

That woman held no resemblance to the one in the rocking chair. Marianne was a shell of her former self, appearing closer to eighty than fifty-seven.

“Mrs. McGraw, I’m Nikki St. James. I’m a true crime writer. How are you doing today?”

Nikki was close enough now that she could see nothing but blankness in the woman’s green-eyed stare. It was as if Marianne McGraw had gone blind—and deaf, as well. The face beneath the wild mane of white hair was haggard, pale, lifeless. The mouth hung open, the lips cracked and dry.

“I want to ask you about your babies,” Nikki said. “Oakley and Jesse Rose?” Was it her imagination or did the woman clutch the dolls even harder to her thin chest?

“What happened the night they disappeared?” Did Nikki really expect an answer? She could hope, couldn’t she? Mostly, she needed to hear the sound of her voice in this claustrophobic room. The rocking had a hypnotic effect, like being pulled down a rabbit hole.

“Everyone outside this room believes you had something to do with it. You and Nate Corwin.” No response, no reaction to the name. “Was he your lover?”

She moved closer, catching the decaying scent that rose from the rocking chair as if the woman was already dead. “I don’t believe it’s true. But I think you might know who kidnapped your babies,” she whispered.

The speculation at the time was that the kidnapping had been an inside job. Marianne had been suffering from postpartum depression. The nanny had said that Mrs. McGraw was having trouble bonding with the babies and that she’d been afraid to leave Marianne alone with them.

And, of course, there’d been Marianne’s secret lover—the man who everyone believed had helped her kidnap her own children. He’d been implicated because of a shovel found in the stables with his bloody fingerprints on it—along with fresh soil—even though no fresh graves had been found.

“Was Nate Corwin involved, Marianne?” The court had decided that Marianne McGraw couldn’t have acted alone. To get both babies out the second-story window, she would have needed an accomplice.

“Did my father help you?”

There was no sign that the woman even heard her, let alone recognized her alleged lover’s name. And if the woman had answered, Nikki knew she would have jumped out of her skin.

She checked to make sure Tess wasn’t watching as she snapped a photo of the woman in the rocker. The flash lit the room for an instant and made a snap sound. As she started to take another, she thought she heard a low growling sound coming from the rocker.

She hurriedly took another photo, though hesitantly, as the growling sound seemed to grow louder. Her eye on the viewfinder, she was still focused on the woman in the rocker when Marianne McGraw seemed to rock forward as if lurching from her chair.

A shriek escaped her before she could pull down the camera. She had closed her eyes and thrown herself back, slamming into the wall. Pain raced up one shoulder. She stifled a scream as she waited for the feel of the woman’s clawlike fingers on her throat.

But Marianne McGraw hadn’t moved. It had only been a trick of the light. And yet, Nikki noticed something different about the woman.

Marianne was smiling.

Chapter Two

When a hand touched her shoulder, Nikki jumped, unable to hold back the cry of fright.

“We have to go,” Tess said, tugging on her shoulder. “They’ll be coming around with meds soon.”

Nikki hadn’t heard the nurse’s aide enter the room. Her gaze had been on Marianne McGraw—until Tess touched her shoulder.

Now she let her gaze go back to the woman. The white-haired patient was hunched in her chair, rocking back and forth, back and forth. The only sound in the room was that of the creaking rocking chair and the pounding of Nikki’s pulse in her ears.

Marianne’s face was slack again, her mouth open, the smile gone. If it had ever been there.

Nikki tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She’d let her imagination get the best of her, thinking that the woman had risen up from that rocker for a moment.

But she hadn’t imagined the growling sound any more than she would forget that smile of amusement. Marianne McGraw was still inside that shriveled-up old white-haired woman.

And if she was right, she thought, looking down at the camera in her hand, there would be proof in the photos she’d taken.

Tess pulled on her arm. “You have to go. Now. And put that camera away!”

Nikki nodded and let Tess leave the room ahead of her. All her instincts told her to get out now. She’d read that psychopaths were surprisingly strong and with only Tess to pull the woman off her...

She studied the white-haired woman in the rocker, trying to decide if Marianne McGraw was the monster everyone believed her to be.

“Did you let Nate Corwin die for a crime he didn’t commit?” Nikki whispered. “Is your real accomplice still out there, spending the $250,000 without you? Or are you innocent in all this? As innocent as I believe my father was?”

For just an instant she thought she saw something flicker in Marianne McGraw’s green eyes. The chill that climbed up her backbone froze her to her core. “You know what happened that night, don’t you,” Nikki whispered at the woman. In frustration, she realized that if her father and this woman were behind the kidnaping, Marianne might be the only person alive who knew the truth.

“Come on!” Tess whispered from the hallway.

Nikki was still staring at the woman in the rocker. “I’m going to find out.” She turned to leave. Behind her, she heard the chilling low growling sound emanating from Marianne McGraw. It wasn’t until the door was closed and locked behind her that she let out the breath she’d been holding.

* * *

TESS MOTIONED FOR Nikki to follow her. The hallway was long and full of shadows this late at night. Their footfalls sounded too loud on the linoleum floor. The air was choked with the smell of disinfectants that didn’t quite cover the...other smells.

Someone cried out in a nearby room, making Nikki start. Behind them there were moans broken occasionally by bloodcurdling screams. She almost ran the last few feet to the back door.

Tess turned off the alarm, pushed open the door and, checking to make sure she had her keys, stepped out into the night air with her. They both breathed in the Montana night. Stars glittered in the midnight blue of the big sky overhead. In the distance, she could make out the dark outline of the Little Rockies.

“I told you she wouldn’t be any help to your story,” Tess said after a moment.

Nikki could tell that the nurse’s aide couldn’t wait until her last day at this job. She could see how a place like that would wear on you. Though she’d spent little time inside, she still was having trouble shaking it off.

“I still appreciate you letting me see her.” She knew the only reason she’d gotten in was because the nurse’s aide was getting married, had already given her two weeks’ notice and was planning to move to Missoula with her future husband. Nikki had read it in the local newspaper under Engagements. It was why she’d made a point of finding out when Tess worked her last late-night shifts.

Nearby an owl hooted. Tess hugged herself even though the night wasn’t that cold. Nikki longed for any sound other than the creak of a rocking chair. She feared she would hear it in her sleep.

“I heard you tell her that you were going to find out what happened that night,” Tess said. “Everyone around here already knows what happened.”

Did they? Nikki thought of Marianne McGraw. Her hair had turned white overnight and now she was almost a corpse. The only man who might know whether the rumors were true, Nikki’s own father, was dead.

“What does everyone believe happened?” she asked.

“She was having an affair with her horse trainer, so of course that’s who she got to help her get rid of the babies,” Tess said as she dug in her pocket for a cigarette. “I’m trying to quit. Before the wedding. But some nights...”

Nikki watched her light up and take a long drag. “Wait, why get rid of the babies? She still had three other sons.”

“I guess she figured they’d be fine with their father. But babies... Also they needed the money. Easier to kidnap a couple of babies than one of the younger boys who’d make a fuss.”

“Still, they didn’t have to kill them.”

“The horse trainer probably didn’t want to be saddled with two babies. Not very romantic running away together with the money—and two squalling babies.”

That was the story the prosecution had told that had gotten her father sent to prison. But was it true? “I thought he swore he didn’t do it.”

She scoffed. “That’s what they all say.”

Nate Corwin, according to what Nikki had been able to find, had said right up to the end when they were driving him to prison that he didn’t do it. Maybe, if the van hadn’t overturned and he wasn’t killed, then maybe he could have fought his conviction, found proof... Or maybe he’d lied right up until his last breath.

“But I thought it was never proven that he was even Marianne’s lover, let alone that he helped her kidnap her own children?” Nikki asked.

The nurse’s aide made a disbelieving sound. “Who else was there?”

“I’d heard the nanny might have been involved.”

“Patty? Well, I wouldn’t put it past her.”

This caught Nikki’s attention. “You know her?”

The nurse’s aide pursed her lips as if she shouldn’t be talking about this, but fortunately that didn’t stop her. Anyway, she’d already broken worse rules today by sneaking Nikki into the hospital.

“She accompanies her husband most of the time. You can tell Patty doesn’t like him visiting his ex-wife,” Tess said. Nikki got the impression that Patricia McGraw also didn’t like being called Patty.

“She won’t even step into Marianne’s room,” the nurse’s aide was saying between puffs. “Not that I blame her, but instead she stands in the hallway and watches them like a hawk. Imagine being jealous of that poor woman in that room.”