A Texas-size secret…

Nine years ago, Jena Brooks fled Willow Creek, Texas, as a frightened teenager. Now she’s finally found the courage to come home, and this time she’s not leaving without her baby. Memories of Asa Corbett stealing her newborn child still haunt Jena to this day. Unfortunately, her best chance at finding her baby is Asa’s eldest son, local cop Carson Corbett.

Trusting a Corbett again isn’t easy, but they’ll need to rely on each other completely to face their pasts and discover the truth. Together, Jena and Carson have a chance to heal old wounds and unite their families for good…if the truth doesn’t first tear them apart.

“What do you expect from me, Ms. Brooks?”

Her dark sad eyes found his and he felt a catch in his throat at all the pain he saw there.

“I’d like for us to look for new evidence like you mentioned.”

“Us?” He motioned from her to him with the pencil.

“Yes. I’m Blake’s personal assistant and I’m very familiar with court documents. I can help you go through all the files and maybe we can catch something that no one else has.”

“Don’t you think you’re grasping at straws?” He had to point that out.

“You didn’t think so yesterday.”

“Yesterday I hadn’t talked to my father. You have to remember that Asa is my father.”

“I realize that, but he committed a crime. And you are the law here in Willow Creek.”

His stomach churned with uneasiness. The line between family and loyalty and his job was clearly blurred.

Dear Reader,

I love secret-baby books. There. I’ve admitted it. I enjoy all the tension and complexity the theme brings to a story. And the tumultuous emotions. I love reading them and writing them. Saying that, I also have to admit out of thirty-three published books I’ve only written two secret-baby books. A Texas Family is my third.

The idea for this book came to me a few years ago when I was in the hospital. With nothing to do but lie in bed, I watched a lot of soap operas, which I don’t normally do while I’m at home writing. Of course, I got pulled into a story line. A girl had gotten pregnant when she was about fifteen or sixteen. She had carried the baby to term, but her father had given it away because he said she was too young to raise it. Years later, she comes back to her hometown a strong, mature woman determined to find the baby who had been taken from her.

As with soap operas, they go on and on, and once I was home I had to stop watching and go back to writing. But that story stayed with me and I knew I had to write my take on it, Texas-style. There are a lot of twists and turns and if you like a tearjerker, you’ll love this book. So come join Jena Brooks as she goes home and meets Carson Corbett, who will risk all to help her.

’Til next time, with love and thanks,

Linda Warren

PS—You can email me at Lw1508@aol.com or send me a message on Facebook, www.facebook.com/authorlindawarren, or on Twitter, www.twitter.com/texauthor, or write me at P.O. Box 5182, Bryan, TX 77805 or visit my website at www.lindawarren.net. Your mail and thoughts are deeply appreciated.

A Texas Family
Linda Warren

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Two time RITA® Award-nominated and award-winning author Linda Warren loves her job, writing happily-ever-after books for Mills & Boon. Drawing upon her years of growing up on a farm/ranch in Texas, she writes about sexy heroes, feisty heroines and broken families with an emotional punch, all set against the backdrop of Texas. Her favorite pastime is sitting on her patio with her husband watching the wildlife, especially the injured ones which are coming in pairs these days: two Canada geese with broken wings, two does with broken legs and a bobcat ready to pounce on anything tasty. Learn more about Linda and her books at her website, www.lindawarren.net or on Facebook, www.facebook.com/authorlindawarren.

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Acknowledgments

I would like to thank those long-suffering friends who listened to me plotting this story over and over—I owe you chocolate.

To all those people I phoned and questioned about the law and police procedure—I owe you a strong drink.

And to Britany Wiggins for sharing her small-town Texas—I owe you a hug.

All errors are strictly mine.

Dedication

I dedicate this book to my family, the Warrens and the Siegerts.

Without your love and support I would be lost.

And to Kathleen Scheibling, my editor, who lifts my spirits when they are down.

Thank you!

Contents

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

Epilogue

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

REVENGE WAS SUCH an ugly word. And Jena Brooks was about to get up close and personal with ugly.

She paused at the office door of Constable Carson Corbett, straightened her deep plum suit, made sure the buttons of her cream silk blouse were fastened and tossed her shoulder-length dark hair to emphasize its layered effect.

But even with the expensive clothes, artfully applied makeup and professionally cut hair, Jena couldn’t disguise who she really was—the girl from the wrong side of the tracks whose father had killed Jared Corbett in cold blood.

Because of her.

Or that was what everyone in Willow Creek, Texas, thought.

She took a deep breath and opened the door.

Carson looked up. His green eyes narrowed as he recognized her. “You have a lot of nerve coming back to Willow Creek.”

She closed the door and marched to the chair in front of his desk. His harsh words grated on her sensitive nerves like a cocklebur and oddly boosted her courage.

“You won’t believe the nerve I have, Mr. Corbett.”

Sitting with as much grace as her trembling limbs could provide, she placed her purse on the floor and crossed her legs. Her pencil skirt shimmied up, revealing more of her legs than she’d wanted.

She stared straight at him, resisting the urge to tug at her hemline, and was surprised to catch his eyes on her legs. Briefly.

He leaned back in his leather chair, the fabric of his light blue shirt stretching taut across wide shoulders.

“Why are you here?”

“Revenge.” She fired the word at him with the force of a bullet intending to annihilate his composure. But it didn’t work.

His self-possession seemed firmly intact as he asked, “For what?”

“You know what.”

“Sorry.” He shrugged. “You’ll have to fill me in.”

“Do the Corbetts have a patent on that dumb expression?”

He leaned forward, his eyes never leaving hers. “Ms. Brooks, we can trade snide remarks back and forth all day, but I have work to do. So, once again, why are you in my office?”

“I came back for my child.”

“And that has something to do with me?”

“You really have that blank expression down.”

“That’s because I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” His voice rose with frustration.

“Then I’ll fill you in.” Her voice rose, too. “I would be talking to your father, Asa, but I heard he’s had a stroke. You’ll pardon me if I don’t offer any consolatory words.”

His face darkened.

“Just before I turned eighteen, I was pregnant with your brother’s child.”

“Wait.” He held up a hand. “Pa always insisted it wasn’t Jared’s.”

“Yeah, that’s why after Jared’s death...”

“Murder,” he corrected in a chilling voice.

Her control slipped for a split second, but she would not be intimidated or stopped. Not this time.

“Asa’s goons kidnapped me a week before my due date and took me to the Bar C Ranch. Minnie Voltree, the midwife, gave me something to induce labor, and six hours later I gave birth. The baby was taken away. I never saw it and don’t even know if it was a boy or a girl. Your father came in and said to my face, ‘A life for a life, girlie. Now you’ll never pass that kid off as a Corbett. My advice to you is to get out of town as fast as you can because if I see you in Willow Creek, I’ll bury you so deep your body will never be found. And your mother and sister will join you.’”

She’d spoken the words in a cool and unemotional imitation of Carson’s father, but at the end her voice cracked. She hated that she couldn’t control that weakness.

“That’s a tall tale, Ms. Brooks, and I’m not sure why you’re telling it to me. This supposedly happened years ago.”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a business card. Placing it on his desk, she said, “I work for a criminal attorney in Dallas—a very good criminal attorney. He’s given me the courage to fight for what’s mine. I left here a broken, naïve girl, but I’ve come back a mature, strong woman. I want my child, and your father knows where my baby is. I intend to get that information.”

“Shouldn’t you be talking to the sheriff?”

She picked up her purse and stood. “Out of respect for my child and for my mother and my sister, who still live here, I’d rather do this discreetly. I’ll give you two days to question your father. After that, my attorney will be contacting the proper authorities.” Without another word, she walked out.

* * *

CARSON CURSED UNDER his breath, feeling as if he’d been sideswiped by a Mack truck going about ninety miles an hour. Was she telling the truth? His mind grappled with what she’d said. It didn’t make sense. He’d been in the Marines at the time, so he couldn’t be sure about anything. And he sure couldn’t imagine his father doing something so barbaric. But then again, Asa Corbett lived by his own rules.

He picked up the card. Blake Davenport and Associates, PC. Jena Brooks was one determined woman, and he couldn’t ignore that. He’d start by verifying some facts and take it from there.

Glancing at his watch, he got to his feet and headed for the door—time to pick up the kids. It was the end of May and the end of another school year. His kids were excited about the summer break. Trey, his son, more so than his daughter, Claire. At four, Claire was more excited about playing with her Barbie dolls or watching SpongeBob SquarePants.

Trey was an outdoor boy. He loved fishing, hunting, riding his horse, helping with the cows and basically just getting dirty. When he was five, Beth had died giving birth to Claire. Trey’d been sad for so long. They all had been.

Beth had been the love of Carson’s life, his high school sweetheart. Living without her was an indescribable heartache. But he had two kids to raise, and he had to be strong for them every day.

He couldn’t imagine someone taking one of his children. That would kill him. His thoughts turned to Ms. Brooks. He knew she’d been pregnant all those years ago. Beth had written him many times about her and about Asa’s wrath that she planned to pass her bastard child off as a Corbett. Then Jared, his brother, had been murdered by Lamar Brooks, and Carson had never given the pregnancy another thought. At the time, he’d wanted the whole Brooks family to rot in hell.

When he heard of his brother’s murder, he was devastated and soon made the decision to leave the Marines. His family needed him. Beth was about to give birth to their son, and he wanted to be there.

Jared’s body had been found on the side of the road next to his truck. He’d been shot with a shotgun at close range. The gun belonged to Lamar Brooks. Before Lamar could be arrested, he was found dead in his own driveway. The weapon used was also a shotgun. Asa owned one, but when the sheriff ran a ballistics test, it didn’t match.

Everyone thought Asa had killed Lamar to avenge the death of his son. It was never proved, though. To this day it remained the biggest crime and scandal to ever happen in Willow Creek. Now Jena Brooks was dredging it all up again.

What had happened to her baby? And was it Jared’s? Whatever the answers were, he was being dragged right into the middle of it. Their peaceful town would be abuzz with rumors and half-truths. And it was up to him to sort through it all.

He didn’t relish the task.

He’d just as soon never see Jena Brooks again.

* * *

JENA DROVE OVER the railroad tracks that ran through Willow Creek. She passed a trailer park and then took a right onto a gravel road. Another left and she rolled into the Brookses’ driveway. She turned off the engine of her Honda Accord and stared at the run-down frame house. It once was white, but it was hard to tell that now. The boards were almost bare. Several screens were missing. To the right was an old car with grass grown up around it.

She’d spent the first eighteen years of her life here on the wrong side of the tracks, living off welfare and food stamps. Her dad was a drunk who couldn’t hold down a job, and her mother was weak, putting up with a crappy way of life. They received bags of used clothes from different charities and food and toys during the holidays. It was mortifying for a young girl.

She used to dream of leaving Willow Creek and never coming back. Never again living on food stamps and welfare. And never being like her parents.

Her hands ached and she realized she had a death grip on the steering wheel. She hadn’t been home in nine years, and it was a bit unnerving. As was her visit with Carson Corbett. Since he was five years older than her and Jared, she’d never formally met him, but she’d seen him often around town with his girlfriend, Beth. Jena definitely knew who he was.

He had the same dark blond hair and green eyes as Jared, except Carson was taller and more muscular, probably because of his military training.

When she’d heard of Asa’s stroke from her sister, Hilary, she’d known if she was ever going to find her baby she’d have to do it quickly. If Asa died, he would take his secret with him. It had taken her nine years to get to this point, and no one was stopping her now. Not even Carson.

She got out of the car and walked through the grass to the front door. One of the things she remembered from her childhood was that the grass always needed cutting and they didn’t have a lawn mower. She and Hil used a Weedwacker to chop it down around the house to keep the mice away.

The boards creaked as she stepped up, but then, they always did. Not much had changed. Her mother’s rocker still sat on the front porch, where she used to wait for her daughters to walk home from school.

She hadn’t told her mom she was coming home, and she wasn’t sure how she was going to react. All these years, Norma Brooks had insisted that Jena stay away from Willow Creek. She was still afraid Asa Corbett would kill her daughter.

Opening the screen door, she called, “Mama.” She didn’t want to frighten her.

Norma appeared from the kitchen in jeans and a print blouse, shock etched across her aging face. Her dark eyes were dull and her dark hair was almost gray at fifty years of age. Jena stood in shock, hardly believing her mother’s health had deteriorated this much.

“Jena, what are you doing here?”

She closed the door and walked in. “Hi, Mama. Aren’t you glad to see me?”

“Oh, Jena, my beautiful daughter.” They hugged tightly, and Norma drew back, wiping away a tear. “Just look at you. All citified. I almost didn’t recognize you, but you have to go. You can’t stay here.”

She took her mother’s arm. “Mama, we have to talk.”

“Okay, but not too long.” Norma sank into an old worn recliner they’d gotten from Goodwill more than twenty years ago. Duct tape covered the threadbare arms.

Jena pulled a wooden chair close to her mother and noticed a bucket near the windows. Glancing up, she saw the brown stains. The roof was leaking. She’d sent Hilary money for a new roof. What had she done with it? She couldn’t think about that now.

“Mama, Asa Corbett has had a stroke. Hilary told you.”

Norma frowned. “I don’t remember.”

Hilary had said their mother had memory lapses and was out of it a lot these days. It was unsettling to witness.

“He has. He’s in a wheelchair, and he’s not going to hurt anyone. It’s been so long ago no one cares anymore.”

No one but me.

“I don’t know,” Norma murmured in a faraway voice.

“Mama, I’m going to be staying a few days, and you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

The screen door banged and Hilary breezed in with a Styrofoam takeout container in her hand. “Hey, sis, you made it.”

“Yeah.”

People said they looked alike, and Jena supposed they did with the same dark eyes and hair and similar facial features. But the resemblance ended there. They were totally different in personality. Hilary was a bubbly scatterbrain who talked constantly. Jena, on the other hand, was reserved and quiet. She’d been called uptight more than once. Jared was the only one who’d seen she was a warm, compassionate person in need of love. Desperate for love.

“Did you bring my dinner?” Norma asked.

“Sure did, Mama. I’ll put it on the kitchen table. It’s Mabel’s pot roast with mashed potatoes, gravy and homemade rolls. Peach cobbler for dessert. You better eat it while it’s warm.” Hil hurried into the kitchen.

“Okay.” Norma followed her and so did Jena.

Hil fixed a glass of iced tea and placed it and a napkin on the table.

Jena watched this, rather mystified. Her mom was a wonderful cook and was capable of making delicious meals with the little food they’d had. Why wasn’t she cooking?

Jena went back into the living room, and soon Hilary joined her. “I had no idea Mama was this bad.”

“Ever since Dad was murdered and Mama got you out of town so quick, she hasn’t been the same. Every day she gets a little worse.”

“Did she just stop cooking?”

“She left grease on the burner twice, and it caught fire. I just happened to be home or our—” she glanced around the drab room “—mansion would have burned down. I had one of the guys turn off the gas to the stove. I can turn it on if I need to, but since I work at the café I bring her food.”

Hilary had worked at Mabel’s Café ever since she was sixteen. There weren’t many jobs in Willow Creek, a town of four hundred. Her sister would be stuck here for the rest of her life, taking care of their mother.

She reached out and hugged her. “Thank you, baby sis, for all you do.”

“Aw.” Hil pulled away. “You gonna make me cry.”

“I know it’s not easy dealing with Mama.”

“It’s like dealing with a child.”

“I know we talked about her doctor visits. Is there nothing else he can do?”

Hil shook her head. “He said severe trauma from the murders has altered her personality, and dementia has set in, but I know her moods. We’re okay.”

The bucket caught Jena’s attention. “I hate to sound critical when I’m so appreciative, but what happened to the money for the roof?”

“Oh, that. Don’t get upset. Wait till you see.”

Jena followed her sister through the kitchen and suddenly stopped. There was a utility room off the kitchen—a bright cheery room painted a soft yellow with a white washer and dryer. One wall had a mural of a rainbow, clouds and birds.

Jena was speechless.

Growing up, they hadn’t had a washer or a dryer. On Saturdays, they usually went into Dripping Springs to a Laundromat. But if they didn’t have money, their mother washed their clothes in the bathtub—a backward way of life for the poor people who lived across the tracks. A stigma that would be with her for the rest of her life, as would so many other things from her childhood.

“You built a utility room?”

“Fresh, isn’t it?” She pointed to the mural. “It would have cost more money to put a window in, so I painted a scene to liven up the place.”

“Who built this?”

“The guys. I bought all the supplies, and they did the rest.”

“What guys?”

“The ones who come into the café: Billy Jack, Clem, Bobby Joe, Bruce, Lenny and...”

“The labor was free?”

“Yes. Bruce is a carpenter, Lenny a plumber, Clem a Sheetrock guy, Billy Jack a painter and Bobby Joe a roofer. They had it up in two days.”

“For free?”

Hil grinned. “I just promised to cut their piece of pie a little bigger at the café. They’ll do anything for an extra piece of pie.”

Jena believed they did it for Hilary. She had a way with people.

She looked at the white ceiling. “I’m assuming this has a roof on it.”

“Of course.”

“Then why didn’t you roof the whole house?”

“Well—” she tilted her head slightly “—I ran out of money. I can get the guys to do hard labor, but I can’t get them to fork over any cash. So Bobby Joe put tar on it, and he’s coming back to repair that one spot that’s still leaking.”

“If you’re happy...”

“I am.” She did a dance, swung around in a quick move and did a ta-da with her hands pointed toward the washer and dryer in a typical Vanna White gesture. “I can wash clothes anytime I want. I feel empowered.”

Jena laughed, something she hadn’t done in a long time, but in her heart she felt guilty. She had those conveniences in Dallas and more, while her mother and sister lived in poverty. While she was here she would try to improve things as much as she could.

Arm in arm they walked into the kitchen. Their mother sat at the table, staring off into space, her food barely touched.

Hilary went to her. “Hey, Mama, why aren’t you eating?”

“What? Oh.” Norma looked up, her eyes blank. “I’m not hungry. You can—” She stared at Jena. “What are you doing here? You have to go. They’ll hurt you. C’mon.” She stood up so fast the chair went flying into the stove.

Hilary immediately hugged their mother, motioning for Jena to go into the other room. Her legs trembled, but she did what her sister asked.

“It’s okay, Mama,” Hil was saying. “A little nap and you’ll feel much better.”

“Why do I keep seeing her?”

“Because you’re worried about her, but Jena is fine. Remember I told you she’s coming for a visit.”

“No. They’ll hurt her again.”

“That was in the past. Things are different now.”

“I’m so cold.”

“Lie down and I’ll get a blanket.” In a few minutes Hilary was back in the living room.

“Is she always like that?” Jena asked.

“It comes and goes. Today’s a bad day. She’ll wake up and be almost normal. It’s strange.”

“She shouldn’t be left by herself.”

Hilary shrugged. “I don’t have much choice. I have to work, but I check on her all the time. It’s not that far to the café, and the good thing is she won’t leave the house. This is familiar, and if I force her outside for fresh air she gets all nervous.”

“We have to talk about this, Hil.”

“I’m not putting her in a home,” Hilary said with a stubborn lift of her chin.

Jena didn’t want to do that, either, but they’d have to have a serious conversation soon.

“Enough with the depressing thoughts.” Hil jerked off her boots and socks. “I want to try on those shoes. Off with them.”

Jena smiled and really looked at her sister’s attire for the first time. She wore a denim skirt that flared out around her thighs, a red-and-white-check blouse and cowgirl boots with red tops. Bracelets dangled on her wrist; large silver earrings hung from her ears. She looked as if she was going square dancing.

Undoing the tiny strap around her ankles, Jena said, “Love the outfit.”

“I make sure no one forgets me.” Hilary slipped on the four-inch heels. “Wow.” She tottered across the living room and then mimicked the walk of a runway model, tripped and fell onto the sofa, laughing. “How do you walk in these things?”

“You get used to it, and I have to dress nice for my job.”

“Oh, yeah, the big attorney.”

Jena didn’t miss the sarcastic tone. “He’s been nice to me, Hil.”

“You deserve it, Jen-Jen.”

She felt a warm glow at the nickname her sister had given her.

Hilary placed the shoes on the coffee table. “I saw the Accord parked at Carson’s. A lot of people did and wondered who you were. I didn’t say anything.”

“I don’t care who knows I’m back.”

Hilary played with the hem of her skirt. “They’ll wonder about the baby.”

Hearing the fear in her sister’s voice, she got up and sat by her on the sofa. “It doesn’t matter. The truth is going to come out.”

“What did Carson say?”

“Not much. I told him I want to see my child and he could either get the information from his father or the authorities would. I’m not afraid of them anymore.”

Hilary continued to pick at the hem. “Sometimes I have nightmares about that night.”

“Me, too,” she murmured as her stomach cramped.

“Mama and I were so worried. You didn’t come home from your shift at the convenience store. Just as we were getting ready to go look for you, Roland Stubbs and Curly Sanders dragged you into the house. Your clothes were bloody. Roland said, ‘Get her out of town before Asa kills her.’”

Hilary took a breath. “Then you told us what had happened, and Mama was furious. She put you to bed and borrowed Mrs. Carter’s car because the sheriff had seized Dad’s truck for evidence. She and I went to the Bar C. She demanded the baby, and Asa pushed her against one of those huge pillars on the porch and threatened to kill all of us. He didn’t care, he said. His son was dead.”

Jena wanted her to stop talking. She didn’t want to remember, but in truth she thought of that horrible night vividly almost every day. And every night.

“We came home, and Mama called cousin Nan in Dallas, and she drove through the night to get you out of Willow Creek. You lay on the backseat in a blanket and cried the whole way. I cried, too.”

Jena wrapped her arms around her waist to still the trembling.

“Cousin Nan said you could stay with her, and Mama gave her some money. I don’t know where she got it. Funny how I remember that. Mama and I returned to Willow Creek, and I didn’t realize until weeks later that you weren’t coming back. I cried myself to sleep that night.” Hil wiped away an errant tear. “For weeks I looked for newborn babies in Willow Creek. There weren’t any, except with women who had been pregnant. Do you...don’t get upset...do you think Asa might have killed it?”

Jena tensed. “Sometimes. But I don’t think even Asa could have been so cruel as to kill the baby if he thought there was a chance it was Jared’s child.”

“But he’s crazy.”

Jena stood, needing to move to stop the flood of memories.

“Jen-Jen?”

“Hmm?”

“I know you’re set on finding your baby, and I would be, too, but have you thought the child would be almost nine years old now and probably with a family who loves it dearly?”

“I’ve thought of a million scenarios.”

“It’s been a long time. You have a good life in Dallas. Wouldn’t it be best to leave the past in the past?”

“I have to know where my child is.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to get hurt again.”

“Maybe, but I’m not young and scared anymore. It’s illegal, even in Willow Creek, to steal someone’s baby, and Asa Corbett is going to pay for what he did.”

She’d come back for revenge, just as she’d told Carson. She now had access to resources for justice, and she intended to make that happen—with or without the constable’s help.

CHAPTER TWO

EVERY TIME CARSON drove under the wrought-iron arch for the Bar C Ranch, his chest filled with pride, which was quickly replaced with anger for a brief second. When he’d finished his tour of duty, he was excited to see his wife and son again. And to be there for his dad, who Beth had said had sunk into deep depression since Jared’s death. But that was just one of Carson’s many worries.

Even before Jared was murdered, Asa had turned over the reins of the ranch to Roland Stubbs, allowing him to sign checks. That was a big mistake. Roland sold all the cattle, horses, equipment and drained the ranch bank account. All that was left was the house, barns and land.

Carson’s return home was bittersweet. His dad sat brooding in his chair and didn’t show much interest in the ranch or in his daughter-in-law or grandson. Beth had been dealing with a newborn and hadn’t noticed anything strange going on except for the cattle trailers going in and out, which she’d thought was normal ranching business.

He’d contacted the sheriff, and Roland and Curly Sanders were soon arrested and convicted. Curly was released last year, but Roland would be in prison for some time to come. When Jena had mentioned goons, he’d had a bad feeling in his gut. Those two were ruthless enough to do anything.

He never quite understood his dad’s reasoning in handing the ranch’s responsibilities to Roland. He’d said it was Carson’s fault for not being here. The Bar C was his legacy, and neither he nor Jared showed any respect for what he’d built. So if the ranch was in trouble Carson had only himself to blame.

But Carson accepted only so much of that blame. According to Beth, his dad was spending a lot of time with a lady he kept in Austin. That meant he’d been ignoring his business, which had allowed Roland to weasel his way into a cushy job. As long as Asa saw money rolling in, he hadn’t questioned Roland or his activities.

“Dad, you better get your money ready,” Trey said from the passenger seat. “I made all A’s again, and it’s five bucks for every A. Remember?”

“What?”

“Dad.” Trey sighed. “You’re not listening.”

“Five bucks for every A. I got it.”

“Me, too, Daddy,” Claire said from her car seat in the back.

“You got it, princess.” He looked in the rearview mirror at his blonde beauty. She looked just like her mother except she had green eyes like him, as did Trey.

“You don’t get grades,” Trey told her. “You’re too little.”

“Am not.”

“Are, too.”

Carson held up his hand. “Enough. What are you going to do with your money, Trey?”

“Buy a new fishing rod. This summer I’m gonna catch that big ol’ catfish in Willow Creek.”

“I don’t like fishing,” Claire said. Like her mother, Claire would rather stay indoors.

The large two-story French colonial-style house came into view. It had an expansive veranda with a balcony above and the stately Greek columns typical of a Southern plantation. The Corbett home had been in the family for years, and Asa had completely renovated it for his wife, a Dallas socialite. She’d stayed long enough to have two sons and then returned to the city without them. Asa refused to let her take them, according to Carson’s aunt Fran. Asa’s wife had died one year later in a plane crash. Carson vaguely remembered the funeral.

He drove around back to the garages. The kids jumped out and ran through the breezeway to the sunroom. Aunt Fran, his dad’s sister, had a snack waiting for them. After Carson and Jared’s mother had left, their aunt came to help. She was the only mother figure they’d had in their lives. When he and Jared were older, she decided to travel and see the world. She’d returned for good when Jared died. Carson didn’t know what he would have done if she hadn’t. She could deal with Asa better than anyone.

“Where’s Pa?” He kissed his aunt’s cheek.

“In the den,” she replied, pouring milk into glasses. “He’s sitting in there with a picture of Jared in his lap. One of these days I’m going to hide it. It’s not healthy for him to stare at it all the time.”

In her late fifties, Aunt Fran had a reddish tint to her short, bobbed, graying blond hair. She was strong-willed and determined, like Asa, except she was a much softer version of him.

Carson walked into the den. Asa sat in his motorized wheelchair. He could work the joystick with his right hand. A physiotherapist was working with him, and Asa could stand and shuffle a couple of steps, but his left side was weak and stiff.

In his younger years, Asa had been a formidable, well-respected rancher. Governors, senators, congressmen courted Asa for favors. Many barbecues had been thrown on the Bar C to support the candidate of Asa’s choice. He’d ruled Willow Creek. Nothing had been done here without his approval. That was then. Now it was disheartening to see his robustly strong dad reduced to a shell of his former self.

“Hi, Pa,” he said.

Asa turned the chair to face his son. “K-ids.”

“They’re having a snack. They’ll be here in a minute.” The only bright spot in his dad’s life was his grandkids. Claire would crawl into his lap and help to work his fingers for exercise. Trey would help to work his legs, and he’d read to him. It was good for his kids. It taught them how to treat the disabled and the elderly...except his dad was only sixty-five.

Carson intended to bring up Jena Brooks but decided to wait. He didn’t want to upset Asa without showing him some hard evidence. He had to prove Ms. Brooks was lying, and the only way to do that was with facts.

The kids ran in, and Claire climbed up to sit in Asa’s lap, looking at the photo of Jared. Trey sat at his feet, telling his grandfather about his good grades.

“I’ve got to go out, guys. Trey, do your homework, and, Claire, I’ll help you when I get back.”

“I’ll help her, Dad,” Trey offered.

“Thanks, son.”

He got in his constable’s car and headed for Minnie Voltree’s house. The woman had to be in her seventies now, but the last time he’d seen her she was still spry and had all her mental faculties, as far as he could tell.

After crossing the tracks that divided the community, he turned onto a narrow dirt road that curled into a hilly wooded area. Minnie and her family lived deep in the woods, but people were still able to find her if they needed her. Since everyone, including the poor, had access to better medical care than used to be available in Willow Creek, Minnie’s midwife services were rarely needed these days.

A trailer house was barely visible. Carson drove over a cattle guard and into the front yard. Chickens pecked freely in the grass. Minnie sat in a chair on the attached front porch, snapping green beans. An old redbone coonhound lay at her feet.

“Afternoon, Constable,” Minnie said as he walked up the steps. The dog raised his head and then went back to sleep.

“Minnie.” He tipped his hat.

“What brings you out this way?” Minnie had a blue bandanna tied around her long gray hair. Her fingers continued to snap the beans deftly.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“About what?”

“Jena Brooks?”

Her fingers paused for a second. A bad sign. “Sure.”

“Did you deliver her baby?”

Minnie stopped snapping and stared at him with narrowed gray eyes. “No. Last I heard she left town, after the scandal and all.”

“She’s back.”

“You don’t say.” Minnie went back to her work, but her fingers were shaky. The second bad sign.

“She said you delivered her baby.”

“She’s lying.”

“She also said Asa took the baby from her.”

“That’s crazy.”

“Yeah, it is, but if you and Asa took her baby that means you stole it, and that’s illegal.”

Minnie stood abruptly, clutching the bowl. “I did not deliver Jena Brooks’s baby.”

“Not even for money?”

“I resent that.”

He ignored her indignation. “Did my father pay you to deliver her baby and give it away?”

“I’m not answering any more questions.” She stormed into the trailer and slammed the screen door. She stood just inside.

“If you want to talk to me, you know where my office is. Jena Brooks isn’t going away. She believes she has a real grievance, and she’s got an attorney working on her case.”

No response, as he’d expected.

He drove away with a niggling in his gut. Something fishy was going on, and his dad was right in the middle of it. His first instinct was to notify the sheriff of Hays County. They had the resources and the manpower to deal with this.

As the constable in this precinct, he provided law-enforcement services for Willow Creek and the surrounding rural areas. People called 911 for major crimes, which were rare. Those calls were handled by the sheriff’s department in San Marcos, and Carson would usually assist. Most people in town had his direct number and would call for minor incidents like a fight at the beer joint, trespassers or family squabbles.

They called Carson because they didn’t want to draw the attention of the sheriff. They just wanted the annoyance to go away. Very rarely did he have to arrest anyone. If he did, he had to transport them to the county jail in San Marcos.

Carson would contact the sheriff about Ms. Brooks’s allegation, but he had to be cautious for his dad’s sake. Asa wasn’t in good health, and sometimes he wasn’t even in his right mind. All his thoughts were focused on Jared. He couldn’t seem to let his youngest son rest in peace. To protect his father, Carson had to work the case.

Reaching the paved road, he stopped his vehicle. He’d have to do a thorough investigation and ask questions of the people in Willow Creek. They would remember. If someone could place Ms. Brooks with Roland and Curly, it would substantiate her claim.

The best person to question would be Ms. Brooks herself. Since he was already on the other side of the tracks, he’d do it now. He’d like to get her reaction to what Minnie had said.

He pulled into the Brookses’ driveway. He hadn’t been here in years. Lamar had killed his brother, and he’d just as soon have nothing to do with the murderer’s family. The house was run-down, as it had been for years. It had belonged to Norma’s mother. After her death, Norma inherited it. The old lady had kept the place up, but Lamar had never lifted a finger to fix anything. Sorry bastard!

The sound of a mower roared through the late afternoon. He got out and saw a woman pushing a mower on the left side of the house, making a circle to the front. At first he thought it was Hilary, but she wasn’t that curvy. It was Jena.

A completely different Jena from the morning. In denim shorts, a tank top and sneakers, she struggled to move through the tall grass. Her body glistened with sweat. She trudged behind the mower until she was about four feet from him. The whirly blades scattered grass all over his boots.

She reached down and turned off the mower. “What are you doing here, Constable?” she asked, using her forearm to wipe sweat from her brow.

“I’d like to talk to you.”

“Just a minute.” She ran for the porch, where there was a bottle of water. Unscrewing the top, she took a big gulp. For the first time he noticed how beautiful she was, with her dark hair and eyes and olive complexion. Beth had said Jared was besotted with Jena, and he could now see why. She had a fresh innocent appeal that was hard to ignore.

Slowly, she walked back, the bottle in her hand. “What did you want to talk about?”

He leaned against his vehicle. “You not used to hard labor?”

“Not really. I work in an office.”

“Ah, the lawyer.” That brought him down to earth like a shattered clay pigeon and reminded him this wasn’t a social call. He cleared his throat. “I paid Minnie Voltree a visit.”

“And?”

“She said you’re lying. That she did not deliver your baby.”

“Did you actually think she’d admit to it?” Her eyes never wavered from his, and that sincere gaze was doing a number on his senses.

“I was hoping for some hard evidence to place you at the Bar C.”

She pointed the bottle at him. “Then why aren’t you asking Asa? He knows everything. Or is he getting special treatment because he’s your father?”

“Maybe.” He wasn’t ashamed to admit it. “He’s not well, and he’s still grieving for Jared. I want real evidence before I confront him.”

“Okay.” She gazed off to the oak trees. “How many people know the Bar C has a basement?”

“Not many.”

“How many people have been in it?”

“Even fewer.”

She brought her eyes back to his. “I know exactly what it looks like. There’s a stairway near the kitchen that leads to the top floor. Underneath the staircase is a door that leads to the basement.”

He held up a hand. “Jared could have taken you there.”

“Other than when I gave birth, I was only on the Bar C once.” She held up one finger. “Jared wanted to take me horseback riding. I didn’t want to go, but he insisted. As soon as we drove up to the barn, Asa galloped up and shouted to Jared, ‘Get that piece of trash off my property and get your ass back home. I want to talk to you.’ After that I would never go there.”

For some reason he believed her—that certainly sounded like Asa. She was confident, sure and never took her eyes off him.

“Roland and Curly grabbed me as I was leaving the convenience store. Roland had a pistol, and he told me to shut up and do as I was told. I was scared—for me and my baby. Curly tied my hands with a rope, and they took me to the basement at the Bar C. With my big stomach I couldn’t see the steps very well, and I tripped a couple of times. I was shaking with fear and wanted to shield my baby. When I saw Minnie, I was relieved. She told me everything would be fine, and then she gave me some stuff to drink. She said it would calm my nerves. A half bed was in a corner with sheets and towels stacked high next to it. I became woozy, and she undid the rope and helped me to lie down.”

Jena screwed the cap back onto the bottle, and her hand shook slightly. He knew she was reliving that day. At that moment he knew she wasn’t lying. For the first time, he was torn between family and the truth.

Like everyone else in Willow Creek, he’d never really thought about what had happened to Jena’s baby. He’d listened to what his father had said about the baby’s paternity and put Jena Brooks out of his mind. When he returned home from the Marines for good, the murder cases had been closed and everyone had moved on. Now...

“I woke up to labor pains ripping through my body. I was under a sheet, and my maternity jeans and shoes had been removed. Minnie gave me more stuff to drink, and it helped the pain. Then I heard the word breech, and another voice said, ‘Let her die.’ It was Asa.”

Both of her hands gripped the bottle. “I felt as if my insides were being yanked out of my body. Just when I thought I couldn’t bear it any longer, I heard the baby cry. I held out my arms, wanting to hold it, and I heard Asa again. ‘I got it,’ he said. That’s when I knew they were taking my baby. I screamed and tried to get up. I was so weak I blacked out. When I woke up, I was fully clothed. I got up, intending to find my baby. Roland and Curly were there. I fought them, and Roland slapped me and told me to shut up or Asa would kill me. He told my mother the same thing. She got me out of Willow Creek that night.”

“Why didn’t you call the sheriff?”

“I was a teenager and scared. My father had just killed Jared Corbett. No one was going to believe me. Just like you don’t believe me now.”

“It’s a lot to take in.” The sun was going down in the west, bathing them in a soft glow, and it seemed strange talking to her, the daughter of the man who’d killed his brother. Yet, in another way he felt something he couldn’t explain. It was her. He was riveted by her soft voice and heartfelt emotions.

“You said you wanted evidence I’d been at the Bar C.” Her voice interrupted his troubled thoughts. “In the basement there’s a rack for rods and reels on one wall. Football jerseys hang on hooks. One has Jared printed on the back and the other has Carson. A beautiful armoire and matching headboard are stored in a corner. Boxes labeled Caroline are stacked next to it.”

“They belonged to my mother,” he said, startling himself. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“There’s a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling with a long string to turn it on and off,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I bled a lot during the birth, and some dripped onto the floor. Minnie tried to wipe it up with bleach. I know because I heard her tell Roland she needed more bleach to clean up the blood. I bet the stain is still on the concrete. As you go down the stairs, it would be on the far left. The bed, towels and sheets I’m sure were burned.”

“I’ll check it out,” he said through a dry throat. He took a moment and gauged his next words. “I don’t understand why you’re coming back now. It’s been...what? Almost nine years?”

“When I heard Asa had had a stroke, I knew this was my last chance to find my child. If he dies, his secret will die with him. I’m not afraid of him anymore, either. I just want the child who was taken from me.”

“May I ask you a question?”

“What?”

“Please don’t take offense, but why was my dad so sure the baby wasn’t Jared’s?”

“Jared said Roland filled Asa’s head with nonsense, like he’d seen me out with this guy or that guy.”

“And that wasn’t true?”

“No. Jared was my only boyfriend, but more than that, he was my friend.”

It would be callous to point out that her father had shot Jared in cold blood. They’d talked enough for today. He had a lot of thinking to do.

“Thank you for your candor, Ms. Brooks. I’ll be in touch.” He got in his vehicle and drove away.

Conflicting thoughts warred inside him. Could his father do something so barbaric?

He returned home, his thoughts directed inward. Aunt Fran was in the kitchen. “Supper’s almost ready,” she called.

“I have to check something in the basement first.”

“We caught that mouse.”

“I’m just checking.” He took the narrow steps two at a time. It was dark now, so he moved slowly when he got to the bottom, reaching for the string. He pulled it and light flooded the basement. Everything was just as she’d described. He walked toward the left side of the room and saw it. A large dark spot—her blood.

Oh, God. A pain shot through him. She wasn’t lying. She’d given birth in this basement. What had his father done with the child?

* * *

JENA PUSHED THE mower to the shed in the back. It was too dark to mow now. Her mind was filled with thoughts of her conversation with Carson. Even as farfetched as her story sounded, she got the feeling he believed her. And, to her dismay, she understood his reluctance to talk to his father.

For years she’d dreamed of revenge, but after a few hours in Willow Creek she was surprised to find her desire for it wasn’t as strong as before. She needed only peace now. Asa Corbett was already in hell—stoking the fire would accomplish nothing. She just wanted information about her child. Carson would get that.

Jared had often said his older brother was the heroic type, the kind who would rescue a kitten from a burning building without any thought to his own safety. He was honest and straightforward. Jena had already sensed those qualities in him. Even though it would hurt his family, he would do the right thing. He’d confront his father.

Jena had to put her trust in Carson, and she found the thought oddly disturbing and uplifting at the same time.

Hilary swerved into the driveway, headlights blinding Jena. Jumping out, Hil said, “Hey, sis, I brought chicken-fried steaks for supper.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had Mabel’s chicken-fried steak.”

“Then you’re in for a treat. I brought chocolate pie with mile-high meringue, too.”

They walked toward the steps, and Hil suddenly stopped. “Didn’t get the yard mowed, huh?”

“Why didn’t you buy a self-propelled mower?”

Hil shrugged. “They cost more, and the guys usually mow, but they’ve been busy. I thought I’d get it done by the time you arrived.”

“I did the back, and, believe me, my muscles will be protesting tomorrow. As I was pushing that blasted thing to the front, the constable drove up.”

“What did Carson want?”

“To ask questions about that night.”

“Is he going to do anything?”

“Yes. I believe he is.”

“Hmm. You sound different than you did this morning. Are you developing a soft spot for the constable?”

“Of course not. Don’t be silly.”

“If you say so. But he’s s-o-o good-looking if you like tall, strong and masculine.”

“Shut up.” She held the door open and Hil laughed, walking inside.

“Hey, Mama, time for supper,” Hil shouted.

Norma clicked off the television. “I wondered where you girls were.”

“She seems fine,” Hil whispered in the kitchen.

“She’s been that way all afternoon.”

“Told you. It comes and goes.”

Hil ran around the kitchen in her cute cowgirl boots like a bunny on steroids, putting the meal on the table and fixing tea.

“How much coffee have you had today?”

“Enough.” Hil made a face.

They sat around the old Formica-and-chrome table and ate. It was reminiscent of better times. Before her dad started drinking heavily. Before Jared. Before...

“It’s nice to have my oldest home,” Norma said. “I was going to bake a cake, but I couldn’t get the stove to work.”

“It’s just temperamental,” Hil replied. “I can make it work, but I brought food and pie. We’re good.”

“Okay.” Norma continued to eat, but Jena noticed a change in her. She became quiet and stared at the refrigerator. Wrapping her arms around her waist, Norma mumbled, “It’s getting chilly. We’ll probably have ice in the morning. I saw on the TV it was snowing somewhere.”

Hil choked on her pie, coughed and took a quick gulp of tea. “What the hell was she watching?” Hil mouthed.

“Wheel of Fortune,” Jena mouthed back.

Hil shrugged. “It’s not that chilly, Mama.”

“I wonder where my flannel gown is.” Their mother stood and meandered to her room.

They cleaned the table and put the containers in plastic bags. “I’ll take the trash to the café in the morning.” Hil tied the top of the bag into a knot.

“What do we do about Mama?” Jena asked.

“I don’t know. I just agree with whatever she says. That seems to work best.”

They went to their mother’s bedroom and found her standing near the bed in a flannel nightgown, looking confused. “Where’s my electric blanket, Hilary?”

“It’s on the bed.” Hil winked at Jena.

“Good. I wanted to take a bath, but it’s just too cold.”

“That’s okay, Mama.” Hil helped her into bed.

“Is the blanket on?”

Hil knelt and pretended to fiddle with something. “How’s that?”

“Much better.”

Her sister got to her feet and kissed their mother. “Night.”

“Now, don’t you girls talk all night. You have school tomorrow.”

“We won’t.”

Her mother was in another time and another place. Maybe after all she’d been through it was a better place for her. And she had the resilient strength of Hilary to help her. Once again Jena was amazed at her sister’s patience and compassion.

She kissed her mother’s forehead. “Night, Mama.”

“I’m so happy to have my beautiful daughter home.”

“Hey. What am I? The ugly duckling?” Hil teased.

“You’re my sweet, good daughter.”

Hil flicked off the light. “Yeah, like that’s gonna get me a date with Ryan Reynolds?”

“The actor?” Jena asked as they walked out.

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t he married?”

“So? I’m not picky.”

“You’re a nut.”

Before Hil could respond, Jena’s cell buzzed, and she ran into the bedroom to get it. “It’s Blake,” she said.

“I’ll take a bath and give you some privacy.” Grabbing a T-shirt out of a drawer, Hil disappeared into the bathroom.

“Hi, Blake.” She sat on the bed.

“I was getting worried. You didn’t call.”

“I didn’t realize you wanted me to.”

“Of course. I worry about you going back to that place.”

“I’m fine.”

“Did you talk to the constable?”

“Yes, and he’s being very cooperative.”

“I don’t know why you don’t let me handle it. Then you wouldn’t have to go back there.”

She drew a deep breath. Blake was a master manipulator. “My mother and my sister are here, and I wanted to see them. If I need help, you’ll be the first person I call.”

There was a long pause. “The office is not the same without you.”

“I’ve been gone one day.”

“It feels like a month.”

She gripped her phone. Blake was ten years her senior and good to her, but he tended to push too hard and that immediately sent alarms sounding through her. When she’d started working for Blake’s firm, she was hired as a receptionist, and she was happy to get the job. It paid well. Then one evening Blake and his team were working a major high-profile case and one of the assistants called in sick. Blake’s secretary asked if she could stay late and help out.

The next day Blake complimented her on her hard work and that made her feel good about herself. The personal assistant who’d been ill soon quit because she was having a difficult pregnancy. Blake offered Jena the job, and she’d gladly accepted. Her job was basically being at Blake’s beck and call. Between his secretary and Jena, they kept him on track and on time. Jena usually joined the entourage who went with him to court, and she loved that part of her work.

Jena looked on Blake as a father figure. He looked on her as something more. They’d gone out a few times, and she made it clear she wasn’t ready for the kind of commitment he wanted. She didn’t know if she would ever be.

Of course, he’d wanted to know why. She had to be honest, so she told him about her ordeal in Willow Creek. As a lawyer, he was outraged and determined to get justice for her. He offered to do it pro bono.

But she refused to let him fight her battles. If she did, it would move their relationship to another level, and she didn’t want that. She listened when he told her that her rights had been grossly violated and Asa Corbett should be in jail. Nine years was long enough, she’d decided. She had to face her past. She had to know about her child.

“Jena?”

“Oh...sorry.” She’d drifted away from the conversation. “I’ll probably stay longer than I’d planned. My mom is not well, and I need to help my sister with her.”

“Take as long as you need, but don’t let that country constable take advantage of you.”

“I won’t.” She couldn’t imagine Carson doing that, but then, she hardly knew him.

“I could take care of everything, and you wouldn’t even have to see the Corbetts.”

She gritted her teeth. Blake did not get the meaning of the word no. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call tomorrow. ’Bye.” She clicked off and slipped the phone back into her purse.

“Through?” Hil asked from the doorway in a T-shirt that had Kiss My Grits on it.

“Yeah.” She got her nightclothes out of her suitcase and went into the bathroom to calm down. Blake could be so sweet. Other times he was controlling. She would only ask for his help as a last resort. She could handle this on her own.

When she came out, Hilary was sitting on the floor, her back against the bed, her head resting on the mattress as she stared at the ceiling.

Jena followed her gaze and slid down beside her, looking up. “You painted that?” A mural of a baby-blue sky, fluffy white clouds with a rainbow shooting across, graced the ceiling.

“Yeah. It’s relaxing, isn’t it?”

“Mmm.”

“I sit here or lie in bed and dream about what’s at the end of the rainbow. A place where the phrase ‘poor white trash’ doesn’t exist. Where rumors and gossip are unheard of. Where there are beautiful homes with manicured lawns and gorgeous flowers. And I live in one of them with a man who loves and respects me.” Hil turned her head to look at Jena. “What do you dream about?”

She swallowed hard. “I dream one day this big empty hole in my heart will be filled. I’ll wake up one morning and be free from the past. But most of all I dream of holding my child in my a-arms.” Even though she tried to stop it, her voice cracked.

“Oh, Jen-Jen.”

Hilary hugged her, and then they both burst into tears—two girls from the wrong side of town dreaming of a better way of life. For Hilary, her dream would probably never come true. She was stuck in Willow Creek. That broke Jena’s heart.

For herself, her dream was just within her grasp.

CHAPTER THREE

ASA DIDN’T FEEL well and went to bed early. Aunt Fran gave him something to help him rest, so Carson didn’t get a chance to talk to him. The next morning Asa was still asleep when Carson had to take the kids to school, but he told his aunt to call when Asa was up. He wasn’t sure how to confront his father, considering the man’s mental state, which was precarious, but he had to do it.

He had a sick ache in the pit of his stomach at what had been done to Jena Brooks. For he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that her baby had been taken by his father. He just couldn’t figure out why, especially since Asa didn’t believe the baby was Jared’s.

A life for a life, his dad had told her. Could that mean...? He couldn’t even finish the thought in his head. What kind of a monster would kill an innocent newborn? Not one he wanted to be related to.

There had to be an answer somewhere. There were other people involved in this, and the only way to find out who, was to look through Bernard Milliner’s files, as he had been the constable at the time. Since Jared’s case was a murder, the sheriff’s office would have handled the investigation, but it happened in Bernie’s precinct, and he would have been there on the scene of both murders.

When Carson reached his office, he started looking through the files. His office was filled with regular office equipment and filing cabinets. He also had a small storage room that housed old files. Nothing much happened in Willow Creek, but all cases were documented, and the records went back over fifty years.

He found the paper work and sat down to read. Jared’s body had been found by Roland at 8:12 p.m. on a Thursday. Bernie had a note jotted on the side: Asa sent Roland to look for Jared when he didn’t come home. Carson already knew this. He had been able to fly home three days after the murder, and Asa was still ranting and raving about revenge. Carson had asked the doctor to give him something to calm him. But Asa had still been frighteningly angry. To him, it seemed Lamar’s death wasn’t enough. He wanted more. Did he get what he wanted?

It had been a horrific time, and Carson didn’t look forward to the thought of reliving it. To find answers, though, he had to go back.

Lamar Brooks was found at his house at 6:05 a.m. the next morning. Just like Jared, he’d been killed with a shotgun blast to the chest as he got out of his truck. Asa was the logical suspect, but ballistics could not match the gun with Asa’s. The murder weapon had never been found and neither had the murderer. What a mess.

The door opened and his friend Levi Coyote strolled in with two cups of coffee. “Hey, I haven’t seen you in a week, so I thought I’d stop by for a minute. I even brought coffee.” He and Levi had been friends since they were kids. Along with Ethan James, another friend, they’d been as inseparable as brothers growing up. Ethan was a detective in Austin and Levi was now a private investigator, but their roots ran deep in Willow Creek.

“Thanks. I could use it.” He took a sip from the disposable cup.

Levi pulled up a chair. He was a tall, muscled guy. Carson and Ethan decided a long time ago that in case of a fight it was always good to have Levi on their side.

“What’s the hangdog expression about?”

“Jena Brooks is back in town.”

“Shit.” Levi almost spit coffee all over the room. “Is her child with her?”

“No, and that’s the problem.” He told his friend what Jena had told him.

“Man, that’s quite a story.”

“Yeah, but she’s not lying. I found the bloodstain in the basement.”

Levi shook his head. “Asa’s always been a little off-kilter, but since losing Jared he’s been way off.”

“He hasn’t been able to cope with Jared’s murder, and I’m so afraid...that baby is dead.”

“If he did something so heinous, you’ll never find the body on the Bar C. It’s too big. Where would you start digging?”

“Oh, man.” He ran his hands over his face. “This is hell. I might have to arrest Asa. I can’t do that, Levi. I can’t do that to my own father.”

“Just take it slow. You’ll need more than that stain in the basement to prove Asa was involved. Start searching for info. You know people around here love to talk, and I’ll help. I’ll be away on a case today and tomorrow, but I’ll check with you when I get back.”

“Thanks.” Carson placed his hand on the papers on his desk. “I’ve been going through the murder files, and I can’t understand why Lamar would kill Jared. You were around at the time. Did he hate Jared?”

“Just the opposite. He bragged about his daughter marrying a Corbett. She’d never want for anything.”

“Did Jared ask Jena to marry him?”

“Not to my knowledge, but I remember he was crazy about her.”

“Maybe it was more about the sex than something long-term. Maybe Lamar confronted Jared and demanded he marry his daughter and one thing led to another.”

Levi shrugged. “Could be. But it was real stupid of Lamar to leave his shotgun at the scene.”

“Mmm.” Carson flipped through the files. “After my dad was ruled out as the murderer, no one else was ever questioned.”

“Nope. They closed the case and no one objected.”

“Why? That’s not normal police procedure.”

“I was clocking a lot of hours as a cop in Austin at the time, but Pop said the sheriff investigated and a Texas Ranger got involved. Then suddenly the case was closed. Like I said, no one was too concerned who killed Lamar Brooks. He’d murdered an innocent boy, and everyone felt he got what he deserved.”

“That’s not justice.” Carson had a bitter taste in his mouth that so much about what had happened back then seemed to be overlooked and easily forgotten.

Levi shrugged.

Carson shifted through the papers. “Bernie doesn’t have too much, but I’ll read through all of it, and then I’ll go to San Marcos to see what the sheriff has on the murders.”

“Don’t expect too much.” Levi crushed the cup in his hand. “The case was wrapped up quickly. My advice is to talk to Minnie again. She’s your weak link. And, of course, Asa.”

“He had a bad night. When he wakes up, I plan to confront him.”

Levi stood and aimed the cup toward the trash can. It landed perfectly. “Bam. Three points. Coffee’s on you next time.”

“You got it.” He picked up the lawyer’s card from his desk. “Ms. Brooks works for a criminal attorney now. She’s giving me a chance to find her child, and then she’s turning it over to the attorney.”

“Damn. That’s the last thing you need.”

“Yeah. Because of Pa’s involvement I can’t let her do that. I’ll have to call Ms. Brooks and ask for more time.”

“Do you think she’ll agree to that?”

“I don’t know. She seems...nice.”

“Nice?” Levi lifted an eyebrow.

“She was determined at first, but when I talked to her last night she seemed more amenable. She just wants to know what happened to her child, and I understand that. I feel for what she’s been through.”

“Oh, crap.”

“What?”

“You’re getting...hmm?” Levi’s eyes narrowed in thought. “What is that word women keep telling us we don’t have?” He snapped his fingers. “Emotions. Yeah, that’s it. You’re letting your emotions rule your head.”

“I am not!”

“This is how it starts, you know. The dance. The romance.”

Carson leaned back in his chair. “I can honestly say there will never be any romance between Ms. Brooks and me. There are a million reasons why. The number one reason is her father murdered my brother, and there’s no love strong enough to overcome that. Besides, I have no romantic interest in Ms. Brooks. My goal is to find her child and try to keep my father from being arrested.”

“What does she look like now?”

“What?” He was thrown for a second.

“She was a pretty teenager. I bet she turned into a beautiful woman.”

“I didn’t look that closely.” He frowned at his friend. “Besides, the first time I saw her, she was hurling accusations right and left, and I just wanted to get her out of my office and out of my life.”

“Good.” Levi glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to run. Talk to you when I get back.”

As Levi walked out, Carson linked his hands behind his head. He had lied to his friend. He knew exactly what Jena Brooks looked like: she had sad, soulful dark eyes, dark flowing hair and a smooth curvy body that was titillating when bathed in sweat. He’d never admit that to anyone but himself. Since Beth, he hadn’t even looked at another woman, and it bothered him that he’d noticed Jena.

No, there could never be anything between him and Jena except a past they both wanted to forget.

* * *

JENA WAS ON her way back from Dripping Springs. Last night she and Hilary had talked until after midnight. Jena wanted to do something for Hilary in appreciation of everything she’d done for their mother. That led to a long discussion. Hilary didn’t want anything. She was her mother, too, she’d said. In the end, they agreed to fix up the house. It was long overdue.

Hilary wanted a buttercup-yellow house with white shutters, so Jena bought all the supplies and Hilary’s friends would do the work. In a fit of indulgence, she went ahead and bought shingles to finish the roof.

Her cell buzzed and she reached for it in the console. “Hey, Hil.”

“Did you get everything?”

“Yes. A soft yellow, just like you wanted. It’s going to look so nice with the white shutters. Are you sure the guys will do this?”

“Yes. I told them this morning, and Billy Jack said he’d bring the paint sprayer over tomorrow.”

“I went ahead and bought shingles. And we have to get new screens, but I have to measure them first.”

“Wow. You are being generous.”

“I left everything at the store for Billy Jack to pick up.”

“Good deal. I can’t wait to see the new look. I’m tired of that drab house.”

“That’s why you paint murals all over it?”

“Yes, I... Hold on. I’ve got another call.”

In a minute Hil was back. “Sis, it was Carson. He wants to see you. You didn’t give him your cell number.”

“Oh, crap. I forgot. I’ll check on Mama and then head over to his office.”

“I’ll check on Mama. You go to his office. He might have some news.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later.” She clicked off and felt a rush of excitement run through her. Maybe he’d talked to his father. Maybe he knew... Oh, God. Her hands grew clammy on the steering wheel.

She turned into the parking area of the constable’s office and took several deep breaths to calm herself. Grabbing her purse, she got out and stared at the building. Was it only yesterday she’d come here with every word rehearsed in her head? With every dream intact in her heart?

Opening the door, she went inside. Carson sat at his desk, reading through a big file.

“Come in,” he said. “Have a seat.” His eyes looked worried and his hair was tousled as if he’d been running his fingers through it.

She sat in a chair, placed her purse on the floor and pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. Yesterday she’d been dressed in her best clothes. Today she was casual in white capris, sandals and an olive-green sleeveless top. She was thinking inane things when the most important subject was almost too painful to broach.

“Did you find the bloodstain on the basement floor?” she asked, her heart beating a steady tattoo against her ribs.

“Yes.”

“And you talked to Asa?”

“No. Sorry.” He looked up, his green eyes tortured.

She ignored that look. “You saw the stain, but for some reason you haven’t talked to your father?”

“No.”

She got up, grabbed her purse, intending to leave and call Blake right away. This was unacceptable.

But he was faster than her, blocking her path to the door. “Please, Ms. Brooks. I’m asking for more time.”

“I’ve been without my child for nine years. That’s enough time.”

“Please.”

Something in that one little word said in earnest got to her and she weakened. Or maybe it was the broad chest and wide shoulders that held her attention. A light citrus scent teased her nostrils. Swirls of brown chest hair peeped out from the V of his white shirt. Jared had had boyish good looks, but Carson had a raw masculinity that made her aware he was a man and she was a woman.

“I was going to talk to him last night, but he wasn’t feeling well and my aunt gave him a sleeping pill so he could rest. When he wakes up, I’ll try again, but you have to understand he’s not the strong domineering man you remember. He’s never gotten over Jared’s murder, and he’s very fragile in his body and in his mind.”

“I understand that.” She hitched the strap of her purse higher. “My mom is not doing well, either. She’s in her own little world. The tragedy has affected so many people, and it still lingers. My father’s murder was never solved. Either the authorities covered up for Asa or they didn’t care.”

“Could we talk about that?”

“The murders?”

“Yes. I have a lot of questions.”

She sighed. “What good will that do except to dredge up old heartaches and pain?”

“The cases were closed very quickly, and I feel there is still evidence out there to help corroborate your story.”

What was it about this man that made her see his point of view? “Okay. Okay. I’ll answer questions. Again, I might add.”

“I appreciate that.”

She turned toward the chair and noticed he was still standing by the door. “Are you afraid I’m going to sneak out?”

“Just making sure,” he replied with a half grin. The tired expression was gone from his face, and she knew he could be quite persuasive if he applied himself.

She resumed her seat, as did he. As she placed her purse back on the floor, she noticed the photo on his desk. Her nerves had been so helter-skelter when she was in the office before she hadn’t even seen it.

“Your children?” She pointed to the photo.

“Um...yeah. Trey and Claire.”

The boy had brown hair and favored Carson. The little girl was her mother all the way. She remembered Beth Corbett—a beautiful blonde. Hilary had told her about Beth’s death. That had to have been hard to lose his brother and wife within a few years.

“I’m sorry about your wife.” She felt she had to say something.

“Thank you,” he replied in a neutral tone, signaling the subject was off-limits.

He shuffled through the file. “Why did your dad shoot Jared? Was there an ongoing feud between them?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “You mean because of me?”

“Yes.” He looked up, his green eyes intense.

“It may surprise you to know that my father had no interest in my or my sister’s lives. When he learned I was pregnant, he said at least I had enough sense to sleep with someone who had money.” She clenched her hands in her lap. Her childhood had been riddled with strife. Her father had been a decent person until he started drinking. Then he became abusive. They used to dread the sound of his truck in the driveway. Their mother would get them out of their beds and hurry them outside in the dark to hide. She would then take the brunt of his drunken rage.

“Your father killing Jared makes no sense.” Carson’s voice penetrated her disturbing thoughts. “He had no motive.”

“The sheriff and his deputies made up a motive by talking to people around town. They said my dad was trying to force Jared to marry me and nothing could be further from the truth.”

“What was the truth?”

“We graduated in May and worked all summer. The baby was due the first week in October, and we wanted to save enough money to rent an apartment in Austin. Before the baby was born, we planned to run away and get married.”

“Who knew about the plan?”

“No one. I didn’t even tell Hilary. We didn’t want Asa to find out.”

“Can you prove any of this?”

“Why do I need to prove anything?”

His eyes held hers. “Because it would mean your father didn’t have a motive.”

“My father didn’t know we were getting married,” she said rather tartly.

He pulled a pad and pen forward. “Did you get a marriage license?”

“Yes. In San Marcos.”

“Did you rent an apartment?”

“Yes. In Austin.” She gripped her hands again to keep the memories at bay. “Jared was killed the day before we were to leave.”

Complete silence followed her words, and she took a moment to gather her shattered composure. Memories of that day were still very real and painful. But it was only a prelude of the misery to come.

“Mr. Corbett...”

“Could you please call me Carson?” His green eyes held hers, waiting.

“I’d rather keep this formal.” She didn’t know why she was hesitating. She just didn’t want to be on friendly terms with him.

“Willow Creek is as informal as you can get.”

“But you and I are not friends. You and I will never be friends.”

“I see,” he said in a flat tone, and for a moment she felt a twinge of guilt. But it passed quickly. He made her feel weak and she hated that. She would never be weak again.

She reached for her purse and stood. “Dredging up the murders is not the reason I’m here. My child is the only reason I came back, and your father is the only one who has the answer. You’re stalling because you know I’m right.”

He stood, too, his green eyes turning dark. “I’ve asked before, and your answer wasn’t satisfactory. Why are you coming back now? Why not eight years ago? Five years? You’ve left it rather late to play the mother card.”

“How dare you! I don’t have to explain anything to you, and I’m not answering any more questions. You have until eight o’clock tonight to speak to your father. If I don’t hear from you, I’m calling my attorney.” She turned on her heel and walked out.

In the car she was trembling so badly she had to take several deep breaths. She’d known this wasn’t going to be easy, but she’d never counted on her emotions betraying her. There was an attraction between them, very subtle, but it was there. No way was she letting her heart get involved with the enemy. And that was who Carson Corbett was—her worst enemy.

* * *

CARSON RAN BOTH hands through his hair. Son of a bitch! What had just happened? They were having a normal conversation and the next minute she was tearing into him like a cornered bobcat.

He closed the folder and jammed it back into the storage box. She was right. Dredging up the past was pointless. He had to deal with the present.

His cell buzzed and he reached for it on his belt. It was his aunt.

“Carson, your father’s awake. He’s had a late breakfast and now he’s watching TV.”

“I’ll be right there.”

He locked up the office and headed for home. Driving down the winding road to the house, he glanced at his cows feeding on new coastal hay. It had taken him years, but he’d slowly built a good-size herd again. Yet the ranch was far from what it used to be. He couldn’t afford help, so when he wasn’t doing his constable job, he worked the ranch. His life ran at a grueling pace, but it kept him from thinking.

Parking at the garages, he took a moment and then went in through the sunroom. Aunt Fran was in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher.

She looked up, her face worried. “What’s this about, Carson?”

“It’s not good.” He told her about Jena Brooks’s allegations.

“That can’t be true.” She wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Asa wouldn’t do something like that.”

“I’m not so sure. He was out of his mind with grief.”

“I wish I could have gotten here sooner after Jared died, but I was in Australia and...”

“You know Pa. You couldn’t have changed a thing. Where is he?”

“In the den. Carson,” she called as he turned away. “Be patient.”

He nodded and walked into the large Western-style room with dark walnut paneling, leather sofas, horse sculptures and a brightly colored area rug. His father sat in his chair, watching TV, a remote in his unsteady hand.

Carson was reminded of the years he and Asa went head-to-head on just about everything. His father was a hard man, and his sons knew that better than anyone. Work was always on Asa’s mind, and he’d made sure his boys started working at an early age. Carson could remember pushing hay off the back of a truck to feed cows at six. After school, it was ranch work. Weekends were the same. Vacations were nonexistent. The only fun they’d had was hanging out with friends and playing sports. His father was the reason he’d joined the Marines. He’d had to get away to be his own man apart from his father’s insane views of life.

His father was also an unforgiving man. He could remember the time Asa beat Jared to within an inch of his life for leaving a gate open. Cows got out and Asa was furious. Carson jumped in and pulled Asa off his little brother. They’d slept in the barn that night, and the next day Asa acted as if nothing had happened. There were so many days like that. Yet through it all they’d loved their father.

But Jared’s murder had broken Asa. So much so that he’d allowed a worthless ranch hand to squander away everything he’d built. Carson shook the memories away.

“Hi, Pa.”

The chair buzzed as Asa turned it to face him.

“I need to talk to you.”

“About...what?” His robust voice was now a gravelly whisper.

There wasn’t any way to do this but to say the words. “Jena Brooks is back in town.”

“Bit-ch,” he spat, his leathery, lined face suffused with rage. “Killed...my...son. Bitch!”

“Lamar Brooks killed Jared.”

Asa heaved several deep breaths and drool ran out the corner of his mouth.

“Stay calm.” Carson handed him the washcloth on the arm of the chair.

Asa dabbed at his mouth.

“Pa, there’s more.” He hated to keep on, but if he didn’t an investigator from the sheriff’s office would. “You okay?”

Asa nodded.

Carson measured his next words. “Ms. Brooks says Minnie Voltree gave her something to induce labor in the basement of this house. That you then took her baby from her and told her to get out of town or you would kill her.”

There was no reaction on his father’s face, and Carson wondered if he’d heard what he’d said.

“Pa, she’s come back for her child.”

An evil grin spread across Asa’s face. “She...will...never...find it.”

CHAPTER FOUR

CARSON SANK ONTO the arm of the sofa. Stunned. Speechless.

No denials. No indignation. No shock. Nothing but a glee in his dad’s eyes that was hard to explain. It was as if he’d been expecting this. Had been waiting for it. Waiting for the day he could have this moment. Of what? The ultimate revenge.

He marshaled his chaotic thoughts. “You kidnapped Jena Brooks and took her baby?”

Asa nodded once.

“Why?

“An eye...for an eye. A life...for a life. She...took...my boy. I took...her baby.”

“That’s insane, Pa. And illegal.”

His father stared at him with triumph in his dull eyes.

Carson stood and raked both hands through his hair. “Where’s the baby?”

Asa shook his head.

“You don’t know? Or are you refusing to say?”

Asa just stared at him.

“Damn it, Pa. Jena Brooks works for a lawyer, and he will speak to the sheriff about her claims. The sheriff in turn will have questions for you. As the constable, I’m supposed to work closely with the sheriff. Do you understand that?”

“So? Arrest...me.” Asa tried to hold out his shaky hands, but the left one barely left his lap.

Carson drew in deeply, trying to figure out how to handle the situation. “Pa, talk to me. Tell me what happened. After Jared’s death, you were under a lot of stress and everyone knows that. Just talk to me, please.”

Asa shook his head.

Carson watched the mulish expression on his father’s face. He’d seen it many times, and he was especially reminded of the day he’d beaten Jared. He’d been bent on teaching his son a lesson. And now he was determined to teach Jena a lesson. Nothing would stand in his way. Not even jail. Nothing.

But maybe there was something that would grab his attention. Something other than revenge. “Pa, that baby is Jared’s, so whatever...”

“No!” he shouted, his whole body vibrating with rage. “Bitch...lied. Had Ro-land follow...her and...”

“Roland lied to you just like he lied about everything else.”

“No!” This time the denial wasn’t so forceful.

“Whatever you did to that child you did to Jared.”

“You...believe...that bitch?”

Carson heaved a long sigh. “It’s not a question of belief. You freely admitted to taking the child. I’m just trying to figure things out. If you tell me the truth, I’m sure the D.A. will go easy on you. It was a difficult time. Please work with me. Think about your grandkids. What will you tell them when the sheriff arrests you for two kidnappings? Think about that.”

Asa looked toward the TV and pushed a button on the remote to turn it off. Carson hadn’t even been aware of the sound. He’d been so focused on his father.

Asa was silent, so Carson hoped that was a good thing. Maybe he’d gotten through to him.

“Talk to me, Pa,” he said again. “I’ll do everything I can to protect you. Just talk to me.”

Asa looked at him, his eyes cold and hard. A chill ran through Carson. “Never. She will...suffer...like me. Forever.”

Carson threw up his hands in despair. “If that’s the way you want it. Forever for you will probably be in a sanitarium, and Aunt Fran won’t be there to wait on you hand and foot.”

“Don’t...care.”

“Fine.” Carson walked out.

Aunt Fran was outside the door, and she followed him into the kitchen.

“You heard?”

“Yes. Asa’s not in his right mind.”

“I’ll agree with you on that.” He opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. Twisting off the cap, he took a big gulp. “He kidnapped Jena Brooks, had Minnie induce labor and then took Jena’s child. That’s against the law. Once Jena’s attorney gets here, speaks to the sheriff and an investigator starts digging, it will be just a matter of time before Pa is arrested.”

“He’s a crippled old man out of his mind with grief. What can they do?”

“Once they verify Ms. Brooks’s baby was stolen by Pa, and there’s no doubt they will since Pa freely admits it, they’ll book him and probably put him under house arrest until the trial. If he’s convicted, they’ll put him in an institution for the rest of his life.”

“Oh, Carson.” Aunt Fran touched his arm in distress. “You can’t let that happen.”

“I don’t have any choice, Aunt Fran.” He set the bottle on the kitchen island. “I just have this bad feeling.”

“About what?”

“Pa’s been waiting for this.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s been waiting for Jena to come back. I could see it in his eyes. He keeps saying ‘a life for a life,’ and I’m so afraid he’s been waiting to tell Jena that her baby is dead—just like Jared is dead.”

“Oh, no, Carson.” Aunt Fran covered her mouth in horror. “My brother would not kill an innocent baby.”

Carson reached for the water and took a swig, wishing it was hundred-proof alcohol. He wanted to agree with her or say something to get rid of the hollow feeling in his gut. Instead, he spun toward the door. “I have some thinking to do. If Pa wants to talk, call me.”

At his car he heaved a sigh and glanced toward the barns and corrals—a peaceful ranch scene with live oaks, scrub oaks, yaupons and a hilly prairie that stretched to the beautiful Texas Hill Country. Cows munched on grass, and a windmill whirled in the distance, pumping water into a trough. Peaceful—though there was nothing peaceful about the Corbett family.

With long strides he made his way to the barn. The horse stalls were empty compared to the heyday of the Bar C, when they’d been filled with thoroughbreds. He walked through the large barn to the other end and pushed open the double doors that were an entrance to a corral and then the horse pasture.

He whistled. A black horse with three white stocking feet cantered to the fence. Carson undid the gate, and the horse pranced through and into the barn to a feed trough. Within minutes, Carson had a saddle on his quarter horse, Jet, and they galloped away into a bright sunny day. He had no idea where he was going. He had to clear his head, to get his thoughts straight.

He rode through his herd, but he barely noticed them. All his thoughts were on what he had to do in the next few hours. He dismounted at Willow Creek and sat in the grass.

Two years ago the creek had dried up from a severe drought. Due to heavy rains it was flowing again. Large willows hugged the creek, and the tips of their slender branches played with the water. He picked up a pebble and skimmed it across the surface. After three skips, it landed on the other side. He and Jared had done this so many times, each trying to outdo the other.

Back then, they were kids and happy in their own way. They had Aunt Fran, their friends and each other. Their father was someone who yelled at them and, when they displeased him, gave them a sharp lash from his belt.

Asa had a softer side, too, but he rarely showed it. He’d brought a puppy home one time for Jared and let him keep it in his room. Asa had fed it on occasion. Then there were times he’d take them to horse and cattle auctions, and he’d proudly tell people, “These are my boys.” He gave them money, trucks, anything they wanted. But he never gave them his love. At least, Carson never felt it. He was pretty sure Jared hadn’t, either.

There was something about DNA, though. It bound people together, overlooked faults, accepted imperfections, and even if those three words were never spoken, instinctively they were understood.

Carson skimmed another pebble across the creek. How did the Corbett family get so messed up? There wasn’t an answer.

Glancing at his watch, he rose to his feet. He had to get his kids from school. They were the bright spot in his life. He would never let them down, and he made sure they felt his love every day.

With one foot in the stirrup, he swung into the saddle and turned Jet toward home. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to Jena. He’d rather take another lash from Pa’s belt than tell her she would never know what had happened to her baby.

* * *

JENA WAS RESTLESS and had to do something to let off some steam. She pulled the mower out of the shed and finished mowing the yard. After that, she used the Weedwacker to trim around the edges. There wasn’t a single blade of grass peeping up its head. The yard looked better. But it would look even better with flower beds.

In the shed she found a hoe and started digging. She didn’t stop until she had a bed on each side of the porch. Her back and shoulders ached, so she thought she’d stop for the day. After the house was painted, she’d buy mulch and finish the beds.

All day she’d forced herself not to think of Carson and their talk, but she’d looked at her watch about a hundred times. She’d given him until eight o’clock, and she intended to keep her word on that. Wiping sweat from her brow, she decided to take a break and sat on the porch. A light breeze fanned her heated skin.

Carson had wanted to know why it had taken her so long to come back. Her reason was personal and private, and she would not share her life with him. Hilary and cousin Nan knew, but other than them she hadn’t told a soul, not even Blake.

Realizing it was six o’clock, she went inside to fix supper for her mother. At least Hilary didn’t have to rush home for that. She made ham-and-cheese sandwiches, and her mother ate very little. She had a faraway look in her eyes as she picked the cheese off her sandwich.

“Is Hilary still at school?” Norma asked.

Jena was taken aback. Her mother had been fine all day. Now she seemed to be in another place.

“Um...yes.” She followed Hil’s example and agreed with her.

“I don’t like her walking home in the dark.”

“Hilary’s fine, Mama. I’ll check on her later.”

Her mother touched her arm. “You’re a good sister. Have you finished your homework?”

“Um...yes.”

Norma suddenly sat up straight, her head cocked to one side. “Did you hear that? Is that the sound of your dad’s truck?”

“No, Mama. It’s just a noise on the highway.”

“I don’t know.” Norma jumped up and went into the living room, peering out the window. “I don’t see anything.”

Jena followed her. “It’s nothing.”

“I’ll sit in my chair and wait.” Norma sank into her recliner. “If I holler, you get out of the house. I don’t want him beating on you again.”

How many times had she heard those words? More than she wanted to remember. In that moment she realized her mother had spent most of her life listening for the sound of her husband’s truck. No wonder she was losing her mind. Without any happiness, the mind had found its own kind of peace.

After putting ham and cheese back into the refrigerator, she slammed the door just a little too hard. Why did life have to be like this? As a kid she used to dream of a happy family with loving parents. She’d tell her dad about her day and he’d smile and encourage her. Reality was far removed from the fantasy. But when their grandmother had been alive, their life had been almost normal. Their dad had supper with them every night and he didn’t drink. At least not in Grandmother’s presence.

After her death, life became a nightmare. Her father lost his job, and he was angry all the time. The drinking, arguing and fighting started. Life was never the same again.

She cleaned the kitchen counter with a deep sigh. There had to be happy families somewhere. Maybe they only existed beyond the clouds in Hilary’s mural.

To stop the depressing thoughts she went to take a bath. Afterward, she slipped on clean shorts and a tank top. She hadn’t brought many clothes, and it was a good thing Hilary had the washing machine. After putting a load on to wash, she checked on her mother. She was sound asleep in her chair. At peace.

She went outside and sat on the porch, swinging her legs off the side the way she had as a child. It was after seven and Carson hadn’t come by or called. She’d wait until after eight and take it from there. She hadn’t called Blake today, and she’d wait on that, too. Right now her thoughts were on her child. Carson would come, she kept telling herself. He’d have news. But they’d parted on an angry note, so she shouldn’t expect much. Still, she kept hoping.

The white constable car turned into the driveway and her heart raced. He was here. She ran her sweaty palms down her bare thighs and waited.

He strolled toward her, and there was something in the way he moved. Was it dejection? Despair? She couldn’t decide. Either way, it wasn’t good.

“Good evening, Ms. Brooks,” he said, his voice cordial yet hesitant.

“Good evening,” she replied. “Have you talked to your father?” The words rushed out before she could stop them.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“He admits to taking your baby.”

Her heart skyrocketed. She hadn’t expected Asa to admit that so easily. “Oh” slipped from her throat.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” he warned.

“Why?”

“He’s never going to tell you where that baby is.”

“What?” She was confused.

“Revenge, Ms. Brooks. The ultimate revenge. In his mind you took Jared from him, and in return he took your child. And since he can’t get Jared back, you’re not getting your child back, either. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way Asa is.”

Her hands curled into fists. “How can he be that evil?”

“Like I said, I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, but I’ve done what you asked. It’s out of my hands now. Call your lawyer and let him do what he can, but nothing on this earth will make Asa tell his secret. I know him well enough to know that.”

“It’s illegal to steal someone’s baby,” she said with barely controlled anger.

“Yes, and Asa will be arrested because he freely admits to everything, but in his condition very little will be done. He’ll probably be put into a home.”

She fought the tears forming in her eyes. “I don’t understand any of this. Asa was so mean to Jared, and all he wanted to do was get away from his father. Now he’s acting like Jared was a son he loved dearly.”

“In his heart I guess he did.”

“He doesn’t have a heart,” she spat. “How can he keep a child from its mother? Jared’s child!”

Carson shrugged. “I don’t profess to understand my father. He’s all the things you say he is, but that’s not going to change a thing. He will never tell you what happened. That secret will die with him. I’m sorry for what he put you through, but for me this is over. There’s nothing else I can do.”

She stood on unsteady legs. “It will never be over for me, Mr. Corbett.”

“I understand that.”

“Do you? Do you know what it’s like to have your baby forcefully taken from you? Do you know what it’s like to be in fear of your very life? Do you...?” Tears clogged her throat, and she had to stop.

He stepped forward as if to console her.

She flung out her arms. “Do not touch me. Ever.”

“Ms. Bro...”

Not able to take any more, she turned and ran into the house. Tears ran from her eyes, and her body shook violently. They would not break her. She would not give in to the pain. She sank onto the floor in the bedroom and stared at Hilary’s clouds and drifted away to a better place.

* * *

WHEN CARSON WAS in Afghanistan, he’d often wondered what it would feel like to be hit by a sniper’s bullet. Now he knew. It had to be similar to the paralyzing fear that controlled his body and his mind. And touched his soul.

After Jared’s and Beth’s deaths, he’d felt a deep sadness and didn’t know how he was going to go on without them. They were a big part of his world and adjusting to a new life wasn’t easy, but he had his kids. Jena had nothing.

Somehow he felt responsible for her pain because he’d delivered the bad news. That hopeless look on her face got to him, and he just wanted to comfort her in some way, but there was no comfort in the knowledge she would never see her child.

He got into his car, cursing his father’s stubbornness and life’s cruelty. Maybe she could move on now and find happiness. That was, after Asa was arrested. Maybe that would bring her some peace. For him it would be another nightmare to get through.

He and Beth had vowed to have a happy, loving family, and they had for a while. They were ecstatic when they found out she was pregnant with Trey. In her sixth month, they’d decided it would be better if she came home to Willow Creek to have the baby.

Beth had called her mother, who’d said it wasn’t a good time to come home. After many years of marriage, Connie and Don Kirby were getting a divorce. Beth had packed and gone home anyway, trying to save her parents’ marriage. It hadn’t worked. Her father had already moved out, and her mother was planning to relocate to Maine to be with a truck driver she’d met at Mabel’s Café.

Beth was devastated and Carson was so far away he couldn’t help her. That was when Asa had stepped in and invited Beth to live at the Bar C. Beth was one of the few people Asa liked, so Carson hadn’t worried about how his father would treat her. He doted on her, hiring a housekeeper and making sure Beth had everything she needed.

Beth’s parents’ marriage was another statistic in the marriage game. Don moved to Oregon and started another family. Beth rarely heard from her father. He was in the hospital having knee surgery when Beth died. After that, he’d called several times, but Carson hadn’t heard from the man in years. Connie married the truck driver and lived in Maine. She’d returned to Willow Creek for the funeral but soon left. Carson hadn’t heard from her since.

Even though both of their parents’ marriages had failed, he and Beth were determined to make theirs work. That was when he first thought about leaving the Marines. He and Beth needed to be together, especially since they were starting a family. Maybe Asa had mellowed and Carson could run the ranch now. So many maybes had filled his head, especially since Beth had told him that Asa continued to push Jared hard, and she feared he would leave and never come back. But then the unthinkable had happened. Jared was killed and life became a daily nightmare.

He backed out of the Brookses’ driveway and turned toward home. Tonight after he put his kids to bed, he’d think about Jena and the pain she would endure for the rest of her life.

Happiness was just an illusion, he decided. All one could do was hope for the best, and he wished that for Jena. He prayed she found peace, in whatever way she could.

* * *

“JENA.”

Jena blinked at the light on her phone. She was still sitting on the floor in the bedroom, but now it was completely dark.

Hilary flipped on the light. “What’s going on? The house was in complete darkness when I drove up. Mama’s in bed and I thought you were, too. Why are you sitting on the floor?”

Jena gripped her phone. “What time is it?”

“After ten.” Hil slid down beside her. “What’s wrong?”

She told her sister what Carson had said.

“That sorry old bastard. Someone needs to slap him.”

“I got the feeling it doesn’t matter. You can slap him, jail him, kill him and Asa’s still not telling his secret. You see, it’s his last revenge on me. He doesn’t have his son because of me, or so he feels, and so I will never have my child.”

“That’s insane.”

“Yeah, but how do you reason with someone who’s insane?”

“I don’t know, Jen-Jen. I’m so sorry.”

She lifted the phone in her hand. “I’ve been sitting here trying to call Blake. I’ve punched his number about ten times, but I click off before it goes through.”

“Why?”

“Blake is a cutthroat lawyer, and if he comes here he can cause all kinds of trouble.”

“That’s good. Maybe he can scare the truth out of Asa.”

“And he can make the whole town hate us. You have a good relationship with everyone here, and I don’t want that to change. And I certainly don’t want anyone to upset Mama.”

“So you’re going to give up?”

“I will never give up. I just haven’t figured out what I’m going to do, but I’ve come to the conclusion I don’t need Blake. I can handle this on my own.”

Hil’s mouth fell open. “You’re going to confront Asa?”

“I’m not sure yet, but by morning I’ll have a plan. If Carson thinks I’m going to quietly leave town like before, then he’s in for a shock. One way or another I’m going to find my child.”

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