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“All clear.”
“Who was it?” Kayla asked as she followed the other woman to the kitchen.
“Absolutely no one,” Lucy answered as she poured herself a cup of coffee. She took a sip and frowned. “Did you make this?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t ever do that again.” Lucy poured the coffee down the drain. “There wasn’t anyone at the door. There was a letter.”
“Where’s Boone?”
“Checking the building.”
Kayla headed for the door. “Alone?”
“What do you think you’re doing?” Lucy followed, pulling her back before she could reach for the doorknob.
“I want to make sure he’s okay.”
“And this is how it starts,” Lucy said with an exaggerated roll of her dark brown eyes. “He’s got pretty eyes, they say. He’s a gentleman, they sigh.”
“I don’t care about his eyes. I’d rather him not get shot in my building.” Kayla went back to the kitchen. “It would make a mess in the hallway.”
Lucy laughed. “I’m not sure I like you, but you’re okay.”
She was used to people not really liking her. But for some reason, this hurt more than usual.
“Boone can take care of himself,” Lucy continued. “He’s smart and he’s well trained.”
The front door opened. Kayla didn’t look, because if she looked Lucy would draw conclusions that weren’t accurate. It wasn’t his eyes, his smile or anything else. As she poured more water into the coffeemaker, she realized she didn’t know what it was about Boone. She didn’t really want to delve into it because it might cost her.
“I’m not sure how they’re slipping out of here, but they’re gone.” He limped as he headed for a seat at the bar.
“You okay?” Lucy asked, as she finished making the coffee that Kayla had started.
He arched a dark brow at her.
“And you have the letter?” Kayla asked, not asking about his health. It was obviously a topic he wanted to avoid.
He pulled on latex gloves and held the letter up for Kayla to see. “Recognize that handwriting?”
“It’s the same as the other letters. I don’t know who it belongs to.”
He slid a knife under the seal and pulled out a letter and a picture. His brows drew together as he read and his mouth tugged at the corner. Was he laughing at this, as if it were a game?
“It isn’t funny, Wilder. This is my life.”
He held up a picture. “Care to explain why you were crossing the border, princess?”
She leaned against the counter and buried her face in her hands. Next to her Lucy snickered. Kayla didn’t blame her. If she wasn’t so humiliated, she’d laugh, too. In the past she would have laughed with them. It was all a big joke. But not really. In truth it was her way of striking back at her father for hurting her.
“Well?” His voice was soft, luring her out of her thoughts.
“It was after my mom died. I went to Mexico. Two weeks of stupidity. I was slowly killing myself, intentionally, unintentionally, I’m not sure. I lost my passport.”
“You could have called Daddy,” Lucy said.
“I could have, but what fun would there have been in that? A friend stayed behind with me. We met some people. And somehow we ended up being smuggled across the border. The rest of our group met up with us and brought us home.”
“You really think that’s a game?” Lucy said sharply.
“No, it isn’t a game. I’d like to think I’m a somewhat better person now. I’m still working on it, though.”
Lucy raised both hands. “Yeah, okay. What about the letter, Boone?”
He spread it out on the counter. “It’s a warning. Requesting the first payment or the story gets leaked to the press. And it warns us not to let you out of our sight.”
“What do I do now?”
Boone slid the note back inside the envelope. “It’s time to go to the police with this information. I know your father wants to keep it quiet, but someone tried to hurt you. That same someone has followed you. They’ve been in your apartment.”
“He isn’t going to agree with you,” Kayla warned. “This is stuff he’d like to keep private and someone wants to make it public. Going to the police...”
“Might stop them. If it’s made public, they’ll stop trying to get money for secrets that are no longer secrets. Or scandals that aren’t scandals, but public knowledge.”
Kayla walked away, taking the darkest of her secrets with her, away from the prying eyes of two people who didn’t care, not about her. They cared about doing their jobs. They cared enough to keep her safe. But her past was hers. As angry as she was with her father, she wouldn’t let other people destroy him.
“Hey, we have to deal with this.” Boone followed her to the deck. The sun was beating down and the concrete was hot under her feet. She sat down and he pulled up another chair to sit facing her.
“I’m not going to the police,” she said, determined to have her way in this.
“We don’t have a choice. I’m going to call your dad and he’ll back me up on this. I don’t know what it is between the two of you, but I’m pretty sure you both care more than you let on.”
“Yes, we care.” She looked away, to the potted palm in the corner and the flowerpot that she’d picked up at a discount store because it looked cheerful. She didn’t know what it was called or how she’d managed to keep it alive.
“Are there more letters?”
She shook her head. “I threw them away. At first I just thought it was a nuisance. But then I started feeling as if I was being followed, and I’m sure they’ve been in my apartment more than once.”
“And your dad has gotten letters, too?”
“Yeah, he’s gotten letters.”
He leaned back in the chair and stretched his jean-clad legs in front of him. “Well, Kayla, I guess it’s time we headed for Martin’s Crossing.”
“Why?”
“Because I know I can keep you safe there while the police try to figure out who’s blackmailing your dad.”
“You can keep me safe here,” she insisted, not liking the pleading tone in her voice.
“I can keep you safer on my own turf.”
Martin’s Crossing. She shouldn’t have minded the idea of going to the place her siblings called home. But she wasn’t a Martin of Martin’s Crossing. She was their half sister. The only thing they had in common was the mother who had abandoned them all.
“I guess refusing to go won’t work.”
He laughed at that. “’Fraid not. Before long you’ll be wishing I was the only Wilder in your life.”
* * *
By ten o’clock that evening Boone and Kayla were heading for the Wilder Ranch. Lucy had been turned loose to head home for a few days.
Exhausted by a day that had included police reports and long conversations with her father, Kayla slept the ride away, which helped her avoid answering any more of Boone’s questions. She didn’t want to explain the things best left in the past. Those subjects were walls between herself and her father. Lack of trust loomed as the largest barrier in their ever-fragile relationship.
She didn’t want Boone inside those walls.
She woke up as they drove through Martin’s Crossing. Her head had been at a strange angle and her neck ached. She rubbed it, aware that Boone had probably seen her drool in her sleep.
“We’re home,” he said, his voice softly husky in the dark interior of the truck.
Home. It wasn’t her home, even though it had become familiar to her in the past year. The main street where her brother Duke owned Duke’s No Bar and Grill. Across the street was the shop his wife, Oregon, owned, Oregon’s All Things. Duke’s wife was crafty and artistic. She made clothes, hand-painted Christmas ornaments and other pretty items. The grocery store was to the right of Oregon’s. Lefty Mueller’s store, where he sold wooden Christmas carousels and other hand-carved art, was to the left. Kayla was a city girl but Martin’s Crossing held a certain appeal. But not long-term. Not for her.
For some reason the thought invoked a melancholy that took her by surprise, sending a few tears trickling down her cheeks. She kept her gaze on the passing scenery and brushed away the tears.
“Where do your parents live?” she asked, turning from the window and pulling her hair back from her face.
“A few minutes out of town.” He kept driving, the radio playing country music and the open windows letting in warm summer air. “You okay?”
“Of course.”
He cleared his throat, then let out a heartfelt sigh. “You were crying.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I have sisters, I know tears of sadness, tears of frustration. All brands of tears.”
“Okay, Mr. Tear Expert, why was I crying?”
“I’m not sure of the exact reason, but if you want to talk...”
“I’d rather not.”
“Sometimes it helps,” he prodded.
“Really? I don’t see you wearing your heart on your sleeve.”
“No, I guess I don’t.”
She stared out the open window, enjoying the humid breeze that lifted hair that had come loose. Outside the landscape was dark except for an occasional security light that flashed an orange glow across a lawn or outbuilding and the silvery light of a nearly full moon. Cattle were dark silhouettes grazing in the fields.
They turned up a narrow, rutted driveway. Ahead she could see a two-story white farmhouse. The front-porch light was on. In the distance she could see the dark shapes that meant numerous outbuildings.
“I hope you don’t mind the country.”
“It isn’t my favorite.”
He laughed a little. “Well, you’ll either sink or swim, sunshine.”
Sunshine. She’d never had a nickname. She’d never been anyone’s sunshine. It didn’t mean anything to him. But it meant something to her. Something that she couldn’t quite define.
Sunshine was definitely better than Cinderella.
“Here we are. Home sweet home. I promise you, you’re in for a real experience. We are a pretty crazy bunch.”
“I can handle it.”
“I’m sure you can.” He got out of the truck, and she followed.
He held her suitcase and handed her the smaller overnight bag that accompanied it. “Let’s get you settled.”
“Don’t you live here?”
He shook his head. “No. I bought a little RV. It’s hooked up to power over by the barn.”
“But you’re going to be close by, right?” She felt as if he was suddenly drifting out of reach. She took a deep breath. He was practically a stranger. Not her lifeline.
“I’ll be around more than you can stand. But I prefer my own space. I’m not much for company and big crowds. Believe me, you’re going to have your share of people. You’ll want solitude when you’re done with this month on the Wilder Ranch.”
“Month?”
He shrugged it off. “We aren’t sending you out on your own until we know who is behind the threats and the attack. Maybe it wasn’t the same guy.”
“I kind of think it is.”
She followed him up the steps and as they got to the front door, it opened. Standing on the other side of the screen door was a woman past middle age. Her dark hair was short and framed a classically beautiful face.
“You must be Kayla,” the woman said, an almost imperceptible Hispanic accent, giving the words a soft lilt. “I’m Maria Wilder.”
“Mrs. Wilder, thank you for letting me stay with you.”
Boone’s mother laughed. “Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t met everyone.”
Boone opened the door and motioned Kayla inside. She glanced back, worried he wouldn’t go in with her. But he did. The lifeline was intact.
“I’m putting you upstairs in Boone’s old room. Janie is just down the hall from you with Essie and Allie. Michaela is across the hall. Jase and Lucas are on the other side of her. We’re downstairs if you need anything.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m so sorry for putting you out this way,” she started to explain.
