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It didn’t make sense, and Dylan’s instinct told him it wasn’t a car-jacking. And yet, there was no ransom note. No demands. There had to be something else, some third possibility he couldn’t see yet. She could have taken off, of course, but that wasn’t Julie’s style. He’d just keep digging until he figured it out.
His gaze shifted to a framed photograph on the wall behind the credenza. In it, he was with Julie and Sebastian, all smiles. Sebastian’s arm was around Julie’s waist and Julie’s head rested on his shoulder. They were the picture of connubial bliss. Although they’d spent the day on the ranch, they’d been AWOL for about an hour after lunch, and Dylan knew exactly what they’d been doing.
He’d tried like hell not to let his imagination run wild, but he should have known better. With Julie, he had no willpower, no control. She came to him in dreams, while he was out riding, during business meetings. He’d thought by now he would have accepted that she’d chosen Sebastian. He’d been wrong.
He opened his bottom drawer and took out the bottle of aged scotch he kept there. But he didn’t pour any. Instead, his gaze moved back to the photograph. To the necklace Julie wore with such pride. It was a silver heart that opened to reveal a small picture of the happy couple. It had been her mother’s locket and Sebastian had scored major points for fixing it up like he had.
Dylan had given her earrings. But she wasn’t wearing those in the photo. Just the necklace. Which was appropriate, of course. But he’d wished…
Screw that. It was over. Over and done, and Julie was with Sebastian. If Julie was alive, that is. If he could find her.
Although he wasn’t a man who ordinarily prayed, he closed his eyes and repeated the desperate bargain that had become almost a mantra in the last six months. “God, please keep her safe. Bring her home. If you do that, I swear I’ll stop loving her.”
CHAPTER THREE
LILY TURNED UP the music as she merged onto U.S. 87. Another few hours and she’d reach Abilene. She’d found Cole Bishop easily enough. Now came the hard part. Getting him to come back with her.
Thanks to the Internet, she’d actually learned a good deal about his work. He had a successful midsize ranch—the Circle B—just outside the small city of Jessup where he raised prize-winning Black Angus cattle. He had an excellent breeding program, but what he was most noted for was the way he managed the ranch. His techniques had been written up in The Cattlemen and the High Plains Journal, two big trade magazines. His approach to ranching was modern and cost-effective. Clearly, he was a smart cookie.
What she didn’t find was anything about the man himself. No personal information at all. She couldn’t find any pictures, either.
It occurred to her that perhaps Mr. Bishop wanted to connect with Eve again, but that he didn’t know how. Men, especially ranchers, could be stubborn as mules. So maybe her appearance would be just the excuse he needed to mend his fences and go back into the fold.
But somehow she doubted it. Why? She couldn’t say. Like her brother, she trusted her gut instincts. They’d always been alike that way. Most of her insights had been about Dylan; it was a twin thing, which she’d discovered wasn’t uncommon at all. But when she’d moved out of the house, other events seemed to trigger that sixth sense of hers. It wasn’t as if she had ESP or anything. Just that from time to time her radar would go off.
It had gone off with Jason Gill, but she’d ignored it. There had been that small worried voice in the back of her head when he’d asked her to leave New York and transfer to the Dallas office. But had she listened? Oh, no. She’d moved, lock, stock and barrel. Once she’d turned off her receiver, it had stayed off. She’d believed every honeyed lie, and she’d fallen hard. She still got monthly issues of Bride magazine at the house. Instead of canceling the damn subscription, she preferred to stack the magazines in a pile by her bed. A towering reminder to heed her intuition.
Of course, sometimes listening to the quiet voice inside led to things that were hard to deal with. As a forensics specialist working for the FBI, she’d learned how to go by the book. Except that one time. The small voice had led her to discover that the death of a pregnant teenager and the child inside her had not occurred in a drive-by shooting, as the police believed, but at the hands of her own father.
She’d realized then that forensics wasn’t where she belonged. It wasn’t all bad. But the case of the teenager, and of course the whole Jason mess, convinced her to leave Dallas and come home. That, at least, had been a positive thing.
The memories had shattered her good mood, and that wasn’t acceptable. She turned up the radio until the car vibrated with Reba singing “Fancy.” Lily sang along, not caring that her voice was terrible, and that she only hit some of the notes some of the time. She loved singing in the car, and she didn’t give a hoot who saw her doing it. She had a long road ahead, and nothing like good old country music to help her along the way.
By the time she reached the tiny town of Jessup, Texas, she was sung out, rung out and starving. The town looked like a hundred others in South Texas. The biggest single store was the grain and feed. Then a Wells Fargo branch. There was an antique store next to a gun shop, and next to that Pete’s Dry Cleaning. Then she spied a little diner, Josie’s, and she pulled around back to the parking lot. She’d purposely waited to eat until she arrived in Cole Bishop’s town. Waitresses in small-town diners could be a wealth of information.
She peeled herself off the seat then shut the door; her car looked a little worse for wear, but that wasn’t because of this trip. It had only taken six hours to get here from the ranch. The sports car was almost ten years old, and the Texas weather had beaten down the old broad. But there were some good years left in her. At least, Lily hoped so.
She ran her fingers through her hair, straightened her blouse and skirt and headed inside.
It took her a moment to adjust to the dim light after so much bright sunshine. But once she did, she felt as if she’d been there before. It was a familiar setup, typical of diners all over the country. Four or five booths, a few tables, a counter, a small soda fountain. The waitresses wore jeans and T-shirts with white aprons slung low on their hips. The other truly Texas touch was the preponderance of Stetsons on the clientele.
Lily headed to the middle seat at the counter, between a wiry old cowboy who looked as if he slept in his boots and a middle-aged woman eating a salad, her paperback book open behind her plate.
The waitress, Ginny, according to her name tag came to Lily with a menu and a smile. “Afternoon.”
“Hi.”
“You headin’ to Fort Worth?”
Lily shook her head. “Nope. But maybe you can help me?”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“First, I need some chicken-fried steak.”
“Smart girl. There’s none better in the county.”
“Excellent. And I’ll have an iced tea, please.”
Ginny wrote the order, then turned and put it on a clip in the window opening to the kitchen. She poured the tea, gave the cowboy some fresh coffee and came back to Lily. “So what else can I help you with?”
Lily guessed her age at about forty, give or take. Her short cropped hair had some gray in it, her eyes had laugh wrinkles and so did her smile. It was obvious she liked the idea of a stranger in town, with all new stories to tell. Lily sent up a mental thank-you to the patron saint of private detectives, if there was one. “I’m looking for someone. His name is Cole Bishop.”
Ginny’s pencil slipped from her fingers. The woman to Lily’s right snapped her book shut. The cowboy pushed back his Stetson. The reactions were startling, to say the least.
“Are you here for the job?”
Lily had no idea what the job might be, but it seemed a likely avenue to pursue. She couldn’t imagine what could cause such a stir. “Yeah. You know anything about it?”
Ginny glanced meaningfully at the woman with the book. The best Lily could figure, the waitress was either scandalized or jealous, or else she had an upset stomach. Finally looking back at Lily, Ginny shook her head. “I don’t know that much about it.”
Right. “Whatever you can tell me would be great. I’m not sure I got all the details.”
The woman shrugged a what-the-hell. “I’ll tell you one thing. He’s a stunner.”
“A stunner?”
“Best-looking man I’ve ever seen in the flesh.”
“I see,” she said, although of course, she didn’t. What did his looks have to do with the job? Dammit, she shouldn’t have said she was going after the job. Now it was impossible to ask straight out what it was.
“And Lord knows he could have any woman he wanted just by crooking his little finger.”
The woman next to Lily nodded her agreement. “You’d think he’d want to do things the regular way, wouldn’t you?”
Have any woman? The regular way?
“So, tell me something, sweetie,” Ginny asked, lowering her voice. “Why on earth would a beautiful young woman like you want to do it?”
It? What was it? “Uh, you know. The usual reasons.”
“Usual? I don’t know where you’re from, child, but in this part of the world, there ain’t no usual in what Cole Bishop’s up to.”
Shit! “Well, that’s the thing. I was hoping to learn more about it before I went to see him. If I go to see him.”
Ginny leaned forward and opened her mouth, but the little bell from the kitchen drew her away before she could say one word. It ended up being Lily’s lunch that was ready, and once Ginny retrieved it, she seemed ready to spill the beans. To make sure the waitress knew she had the floor, Lily quickly cut a big slice of the meat and shoved it in her mouth. What she should have done first was make sure it wasn’t scorching hot. But she just smiled through the pain as she chewed.
Ginny opened her mouth again, but for the second time, she was interrupted.
“I heard that Stephanie Davidson went by his place about two weeks ago.” The woman to Lily’s right leaned forward. “She said he was a regular son of a you-know-what.”
“I do, Patsy, I do.” Ginny shook her head and frowned. “He ‘bout bit my head off a couple days back. Just because his coffee wasn’t hot enough.”
“That’s Cole Bishop for you.”
“And yet the women fall at his feet. Except for, you know. That’s just plum crazy.” Ginny realized what she’d said, and shot Lily an embarrassed glance. “No offense meant.”
“None taken.” Lily smiled, but her imagination was going hog-wild. Was the man a deviant? A pervert? A talk-show host? Maybe Eve wouldn’t want him back in her life. Maybe Lily should get in her car and head on home. What in hell was this job?
“I don’t know.” Patsy took a swallow of her iced tea, probably just to add to the drama of the moment. Even after she put down her glass, she hesitated. “I think what the man needs is a good woman. Someone who can turn him around.”
“Wait a minute. Are you saying he’s gay?”
Ginny shook her head at Lily’s question. “Not so’s you’d notice. He sees a waitress out at Hastings from time to time. And don’t she like to brag about it. According to her, he’s got the biggest—”
The kitchen bell rang, and Ginny hustled to the window before she finished the sentence. Lily figured she knew what was so big about Mr. Bishop, but in cattle country one could never be quite sure.
“Manny sure does speak highly of him, though,” Patsy said the moment Ginny returned from her waitressing duties.
“Who’s Manny?” Lily asked.
“He works for Bishop. Young man, real polite. He’s got a girl, Rita Borrego is her name, and she works at the Millers’ place. She’s a cook and pretty as a petunia.”
Lily didn’t care about petunias. She wanted to know what was going on with Cole. It was a nightmare version of twenty questions, and Lily’s turn was about up. “So, about this job…”
“Jessica Tanksley,” Patsy said, as if Lily hadn’t spoken. “She’s my sister’s boyfriend’s cousin. She went out there.” Patsy looked up to heaven for a moment, then back down. “He looked her over like he was buying a prize heifer. Asked her about a million questions. Real personal, if you get my meaning. But she must have answered wrong. The man never did call her.”
This was getting weirder by the second. Not to mention more frustrating. What kind of a job was this? He’d looked the woman over like a cow? Asked personal questions? “What about family?” Lily asked, deciding to approach things from a different angle. “His, I mean.”
Ginny’s brow rose. “The last person who asked Cole Bishop about his family came down with a sudden case of broken nose and cracked ribs.”
“Oh, my.”
“My aunt Maureen says he’s got a closet full of skeletons.” Patsy lowered her voice. “She heard he killed a man.”
Lily’s mouth dropped open. She hadn’t considered that he might be a cold-blooded killer. On the other hand, murder was a damn hard thing to hide. If he’d—
“I’m not saying it’s true. But that’s what she heard. That he killed a man in cold blood and never gave it another thought.”
“Forgive me, Patsy, but your aunt Maureen’s crazy as a bedbug.”
“She’s only been in the hospital that once.”
Ginny’s hands went to her hips. “It just ain’t natural, that’s all.” She gave Lily a probing look. “And even though it’s none of my business, I think you should get in that car of yours and keep on driving. Go on to Fort Worth. Get yourself a real job and find yourself a nice man. Girl like you doesn’t need to be messing with the likes of Cole Bishop.”
Lily was tempted to do just that. All this talk of unnatural acts had given her the willies. But the willies had never stopped her before. Besides, she knew a thing or two about small-town gossip. Most of what she’d heard this afternoon was probably hogwash. She’d feel a lot better, however, knowing which parts were true. Just what in hell was this job?
DYLAN CHECKED OUT a tall blond beauty as she walked down Crockett. He had his sunglasses on, so his perusal was private. As she crossed the street, he jerked his mind back to the business at hand. Sebastian was probably waiting for him downstairs.
He headed toward a huge wooden pushcart with the famous green awning. Perk at the Park, an outdoor coffee bar on the River Walk. Sure enough, there was Sebastian sitting in his usual spot under the brown umbrella. He looked like hell.
Dylan stopped at the pushcart and waited for Kelly Adams, the owner of Perk, to finish her last order. She looked pretty this afternoon, but then she always looked pretty. Maybe it was time for him to do something about his social life. Going out with Kelly would be fun. They’d known each other for a long time, and he felt comfortable with her. She was no Julie but—
He nipped that thought in the bud. Julie’s husband sat waiting for him, and the poor guy was nearly out of his mind with worry. Sebastian needed his friendship now. And his total concentration.
“What’ll it be, Dylan? The usual?”
He shook his head. “Iced coffee, if you’ve got some fresh.”
“Of course I do. Heavens.” She wiped her hands on her apron and turned to fetch his drink.
From the back, Dylan could see her jeans and the small T-shirt she wore. She really was attractive. Maybe, when he’d found Julie, when his life wasn’t so crazy…
“Here you go.” She handed him the tall plastic cup. “And do me a favor? Cheer up your buddy there, huh? He’s got me worried.”
“Me, too.” He handed her a five. “Thanks, Kelly.”
“Hey, your change.”
“Keep it,” he said over his shoulder.
Sebastian glanced up at him with worried eyes. His hair, usually meticulous, looked as if he hadn’t put a comb to it. His smile was a pitiful attempt.
“Hey, ya bastard.” Dylan used the old greeting, but it didn’t change Sebastian’s expression.
“Anything new?”
Dylan shook his head. “Have you slept at all?”
Sebastian shrugged. “I don’t sleep through the night anymore. Not like I used to. I end up watching the damn weather channel all night. Go ahead, ask me about tomorrow’s high.”
“Man, you’ve got to do something. Have you seen a doctor? Maybe he can give you a sleeping pill.”
“Nope. I’ve thought of it, but it would be too tempting to get dependent on them. I’m not drinking much, either. I need to be clear about things. On my toes.”
“Well, I think a couple nights’ good sleep would go a long way.”
Sebastian looked at the river for a long moment. He sipped his coffee, then put the cup down. “I found a note from Julie last night.”
Dylan sat up straight, his heart lurching in his chest. “A note?”
“Don’t get too excited. It wasn’t a recent note. It was from Christmas. She’d written me a little thank-you for her gift and stuck it in my sock drawer. Except it got caught in the back, and I only saw it today because I yanked the damn drawer out by mistake.”
“What did it say?”
He leaned to his right and pulled his leather wallet out of his back pocket. With agonizing slowness, he opened the billfold and brought out a small piece of paper. He put his wallet back, then unfolded the paper. It was all Dylan could do not to rip it out of his hands.
It turned out, he didn’t need to. Sebastian handed him the note.
Her handwriting jolted him. He hadn’t realized how well he’d known the beautiful script. “Sebastian,” the note read. “I love you so. The locket is worth everything to me. I’ll never take it off. Never.”
Dylan folded the small piece of paper and handed it to his friend. “Son of a bitch.”
Sebastian turned to him, his gaze hard and cold. “You have no idea.”
“It’s not your fault. I know you want it to be, but it’s not.”
His friend’s laugh sent a chill down Dylan’s back. There was such self-hatred, such mockery in the hollow tone.
“I should have been with her.”
“You were at work.”
“It doesn’t matter. I should have been with her and I should have protected her. I wanted her to get a gun, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She said she’d probably end up shooting herself. I told her we’d go to the range so she could learn how to use a pistol, but then, I don’t know, I got busy. I got a new client… I never brought it up again.”
“Sebastian, you have to stop this. It’s going to drive you insane.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. Except Julie’s coming back. She is. Do you want to be here when she does? Or in the nuthouse?”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Remember when we were in Houston at that rodeo? The one where you got the wild bull—what the hell was his name?”
“Goliath?”
“Yeah. Goliath. And I told you to change your gloves?”
Sebastian nodded. “I didn’t listen.”
“And the gloves tore.”
“The rope ripped my hand to shreds.”
“Well, like I knew about the rope, I know about Julie.”
“You are one weird bastard, you know that, Garrett?”
Dylan nodded. “Why else would I hang out with you?”
Sebastian smiled. And for the first time since Julie’s disappearance, Dylan felt it was real. But it was gone all too soon, and the cloud of darkness resettled over his best friend.
“I want to go over everything again.” Dylan got a small notepad from his back pocket. “Step by step.”
“I’ve told you everything I know.”
“Then tell me again.”
Sebastian sighed. Closed his eyes. And started from the beginning.
CHAPTER FOUR
LILY SLOWED the car as she drove up Cole Bishop’s drive. The two-story ranch house reminded her of her cousin Ted’s in Waco. The wide front porch had room for a swing or a rocking chair, but it was bare. Painted white, the house itself seemed relatively new, a plain canvas with nothing to distinguish itself.
The lawn was the same. Rye grass, green even in this heat. No flower beds, no hedges. A big oak saved the view from being nondescript.
She wondered if she shouldn’t just write him a letter. It wasn’t easy to admit, but the conversation from the diner had her a little spooked.
Of course, her dilemma might be solved with a knock on the door. He probably wasn’t home. She hoped he wasn’t home.
As soon as she opened her car door, she could hear cattle lowing in the distance. It was a familiar sound, one she’d lived around her whole life. Some people would comment on the odor, but she didn’t mind it. Folks from cattle country were exposed early to the downside of ranching. It was only the city folk who balked.
She got out, shut the door behind her and opened her purse. After a fresh coat of lipstick, she ran a brush through her hair and popped a mint in her mouth.
As she turned toward the front door, something else familiar, a feeling, not a scent, hit her in the solar plexus. Ever since she’d joined the FBI she’d learned about the combination of fear and excitement that came with a new case. She felt in no personal danger. It wasn’t like some of her assignments in the Bureau. But there were high stakes, and she’d have to be alert and aware of everything. Cole Bishop was an unknown, and from the descriptions she’d heard in the diner, he could be anything from Wild Bill Hickok to Hannibal Lecter.
Well, she could be as macho as the next ex-FBI agent. After one last look at her car and safety, she headed toward the porch. No boards squeaked, another sign that they hadn’t been here long.
She rang the doorbell and waited, taking calming breaths as she did so. A moment later, the door swung open and Cole Bishop stood before her. It had to be him.
He was on a cell phone, and after giving her a quick once-over, he waved her inside. As she walked past him she was instantly aware of the man’s size. And something more. He wasn’t just tall, he was powerful. Her gaze went to his biceps, and even beneath his white shirt she could see his arms were thick and corded. Not like a bodybuilder’s, though. Like a man at the peak of physical perfection.
He didn’t smell half bad, either.
She walked into a sparse living room. Bare white walls, hardwood floor, a leather couch and matching club chairs. The coffee table didn’t even have a magazine on it. It was odd, as if Bishop rented the place.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
His voice startled her and she whirled around, wondering what she’d done wrong. But he wasn’t talking to her. Still on the phone, he paced across the floor in his cowboy boots, worn button-fly jeans, his white shirtsleeves rolled up past his elbows. Power. In the way he strode, in his posture, in the way his voice flowed deep and smooth as fine whiskey. She felt a little shiver as he eyed her before turning back to his conversation.
Ginny had said he was the best-looking man she’d ever seen in the flesh, and Lily concurred. Over six feet tall, he had to weigh almost two hundred pounds, all muscle. His tousled brown hair hung over his collar, and when he stepped in front of the window she could see streaks of sun-dyed blond. He had the face of a Marlboro Man, a real cowboy, tough and masculine from the inside out. Even his ocean-blue eyes had a hint of steel in them.
Her gaze moved to his chest and she wondered how he’d look without his shirt on. It took her a moment to realize he’d finished his conversation and put the phone down.
He narrowed his focus to her and only her. Unabashed and brazen as hell, he looked her over from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, taking a little extra time when he got to the chest area. Just as she opened her mouth to protest, he walked behind her.
She tried to swing around, but his hand on her arm stopped her still. Her natural instinct was to jerk away, to defend herself, but she held back. She didn’t want to blow this in the first five minutes. But if he didn’t let her go in about two seconds, she was going to make sure he understood what gelding was all about.