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Returning to the living room where the girls remained, color returning to their cheeks as the fire warmed their frozen little bodies, Alexis ventured forward, surprising him with her question.
“Mister…” Alexis said hesitantly. “Before we go to bed do you got anything we could eat? Bread or something?”
“Let me guess…no dinner?”
Alexis gave a short shake of her head but didn’t elaborate. A curse danced behind his teeth as he picked up clearly what she hadn’t said. Probably missed more than a few meals here and there judging by the sharp points of their shoulders. Neglect was a form of abuse, too. He’d saved more animals from the brink of starvation than he cared to count but seeing the evidence of neglect in children made his stomach clench with disgust. This was why he kept himself apart from nearly everyone except for the handful of family he had. On the whole, most people disappointed and annoyed him. In this case, he went way past annoyed and straight into pissed off.
“Follow me,” he instructed, his voice gruffer than he intended and he winced inwardly as he saw the baby flinch, her rail-thin arms clutching at her sister’s neck. Ah hell…he cursed himself for scaring her. These kids were traumatized to varying degrees but he could see the baby was particularly jumpy. He needed to treat them as he would a traumatized horse. Voice calm yet firm. Trying again, he said, “Let’s see what we can rustle up.”
He walked to the kitchen and flipped the light as he went. Reaching into the fridge he pulled out the beans and rice that he’d made earlier in the day.
Alexis had set the baby down to come and peer into the pots as he put them on the stove to reheat. “What’s this?” she asked, her eyes wary.
“Beans and rice. All I got on such short notice. Take it or leave it.”
Chloe scrambled to the table and climbed into the chair despite the fact that it was way too big for her small frame. The thick oak chair nearly swallowed the toddler but she didn’t seem to care as she eyed the pots with blatant desire. “I like beans,” she said.
Taylor joined her sister. “Me, too.”
John looked to Alexis but she was too busy checking out her surroundings. When she took her tentative spot at the table, he surmised that beans and rice were okay with her.
He grabbed three bowls, heaped a mound of rice and then dumped a ladleful of beans on top and handed the girls their dinner.
They shoveled the food into their mouths without reservation and as one bite cleared the spoon, they were digging in for the next. He wanted to ask when they’d eaten last but a part of him didn’t want to know. It would just intensify the burn that was already stoking his temper.
He decided to keep them talking in the hopes that the food would distract them into divulging some details about their situation. “So, where you girls from?”
“Arizona,” Taylor answered, scooping the last of her beans onto her spoon with her fingers. She looked to him with her empty bowl, her small tongue snaking out to lick her lips. “Is there more?”
Alexis looked up from her bowl. “Don’t be a little piglet.”
Taylor shot Alexis a scowl. “I’m no piglet. But I’m still hungry.”
John smiled and took Taylor’s bowl. “There’s plenty more where that came from. I made extra this time around.”
He handed Taylor her refilled bowl and focused on Alexis who seemed intent on her supper yet John got the sense that she was covertly taking everything in.
“What’s your mom’s name?” he asked.
Alexis ignored John’s question and, noticing that Chloe had stopped eating, pushed her bowl away. “We’re tired. Can we go to bed now?”
“Chloe’s not finished with her supper,” he said.
Alexis squared her jaw but remained silent. He wondered what was going through her head.
Sighing, he decided this battle wasn’t worth fighting. He wasn’t going to get any answers tonight. He was looking into the face of a child who knew something about keeping secrets. He hated to think of what the kid was hiding from. “All right, no more questions. Bedtime.”
The ranch house was plenty big enough for three small, uninvited guests and an elderly companion but the house rarely had so many people milling around, not since he and Evan were kids and their mom had once rented the extra rooms out to help make ends meet.
He gave them each one of his T-shirts to sleep in and after they’d changed in the adjoining bathroom, they ran to the bed.
Alexis helped Chloe up and Taylor climbed up by herself.
“You need anything else?” he asked gruffly.
“Mister—”
“John,” he corrected Chloe.
“Mr. John, do you have a mommy here?”
“A mommy?”
Alexis clarified. “She means do you have a wife?”
He shook his head. “No. Just me and the horses.”
Taylor, who had already snuggled into the pillows, sat up with a gap-toothed grin. “Horses?”
“That’s right. This is a horse ranch. I’ve got about ten stabled right now. Why? You like horses?”
Taylor nodded. “Can I see them tomorrow?”
He didn’t want to make promises. The first order of tomorrow would be to call the authorities. “We’ll see.”
Clicking off the light, he closed the door but not before catching a glimpse of Alexis’s face turned to the window, an incredibly sad expression on her young profile.
He suspected that little girl felt responsible for her sisters but there was only so much a child could do. It wasn’t right. But it happens. That was something he knew well. He just hated seeing it because it dredged up a litany of feelings he’d buried a long time ago. Something about that little girl’s expression poked and prodded at the tender spot in his heart in the same way an animal did that everyone else would rather give up on than save.
And to be honest, he didn’t know how he felt about that but he suspected his quiet life was about to get noisy.
Chloe coughed, the sound worrying him. No matter what else happened tomorrow, at the very least he was taking that baby to the doctor.
RENEE DOLLING DROVE SLOWLY down the dirt driveway, glancing once again at the address she’d scratched on a piece of paper before leaving Arizona, and prayed that Jason’s great-aunt hadn’t moved in the ten-plus years since she’d last seen the old woman. From what she remembered, Gladys Stemming was a mouthy one although harmless. But then, Renee had only met her once and who knew what she was like now.
She’d come here as a last-ditch effort. She’d been to all the usual places Jason used to frequent in their neck of the woods in Arizona and had come up empty. Far as Renee knew, Gladys was Jason’s only living relative so it served to reason, he might’ve taken the kids there before he split. If they weren’t here…
Think positive. You’ve gotten this far, don’t give up now.
She went to the door and knocked, the absolute stillness of the countryside unnerving her. She knocked again, harder than the first time but the sound just echoed into the inky dark. She glanced around, noted the absence of a vehicle as well as any other sign of civilization and fought the wave of despair. She didn’t even know if this was where Gladys still lived. Okay. Focus. Look for some kind of sign that she does, Renee instructed herself so she didn’t dissolve into a puddle of frustrated tears. Walking across the short porch, she peered into a window and saw the lumps of furniture but nothing that might tell her who lived there.
She rubbed her arms briskly. She’d forgotten how cold it got here. Stomping her feet to keep the circulation moving, she caught the shadowed outline of the mailbox at the end of the driveway. Climbing into the car, she drove to the edge of the road and pulled open the mailbox to feel inside.
Bingo.
Pulling a stack of mail, she glanced at the address and nearly went weak with relief. Gladys Stemming. She still lived here. But even as she thumbed through the hefty stack her elation was short-lived. Apparently, it’d been at least a week since the mail was picked up, which could mean the old woman hadn’t been home for a while. Replacing the mail, she chewed her bottom lip. She’d have to come back tomorrow, maybe go into town and ask around. Somebody was bound to know where the old woman was and perhaps, if Gladys had them, her children.
Putting the car into drive, she looked down at the bedraggled and ugly stuffed rabbit that had belonged to Taylor. Renee had found it, abandoned, at their old house after she’d gotten out of rehab. That was four months ago. She’d been searching for him and the girls ever since. Renee didn’t much care where Jason went—heaven help him if she managed to get her hands around his neck for this latest stunt—but she needed her girls.
Tears pricked her eyes again but she sniffed them back. She was close. She could feel it.
A fresh flood of anger followed. Damn you, Jason. Where the hell have you taken my kids?
Renee reluctantly drove away, refusing to believe that her children were far, that Jason had taken them to a place where she’d never find them. She tried to ignore the guilt that rose to slap her in the face whenever she let herself remember that she was the first one to walk out on their children.
It wasn’t her proudest moment but hitting rock bottom usually isn’t. Admitting to herself she was an alcoholic trapped in a loveless marriage was a tough pill to swallow, and even as she was committed to sobriety the price had been pretty steep.
Ten long years of missteps and mistakes with Jason, a man who had less depth than a cartoon character. It was enough to make her want to hide in shame over every bad decision she and Jason had put their girls through but she’d vowed things would be different once she got out of rehab.
Only to find them gone. Renee imagined Jason made the decision to take off shortly after she told him she wanted a divorce. He’d known this was the best way to hurt her. And damn, he knew her well.
Every day without her girls felt like knives in her heart.
Chapter Two
THE FOLLOWING MORNING just as he always did, John rose at 5:30 a.m. to start the day and for a split second, as he set the coffee to percolating and stoked the coals in the fireplace to a fresh blaze with kindling and a small piece of seasoned oak, he almost forgot that he wasn’t alone. But when a person had been a bachelor as long as John there were some things that didn’t slip your notice. Such as the prickling feeling at the back of your neck when you know someone is behind you, staring. He turned and found Taylor standing in the archway, scratching her leg with her toe, her eyes fixed on him.
“Go back to bed. It’s too early.”
“You’re up.” She pointed out as she scrubbed at her pixie nose with her palm, her gaze wide and expectant.
“I’m a grown-up. You’re still a kid—” practically still in diapers “—and kids need their rest. Don’t you want to grow up big and strong?”
She thought about it for a second before nodding but then said, “But I can’t rest if I’m not sleepy. Can you, Mr. John?”
Not really. He didn’t much see the point in lounging in bed if he wasn’t tired, either. But if he didn’t send her back to bed with her sisters, he’d have to find something to entertain her with and he didn’t have a clue as to how to entertain a five-year-old little girl. He eyed her speculatively. “You hungry?”
She nodded eagerly. “Are we having more of them beans?” she chirped as she followed him into the kitchen. “They were real good. You’re a good cooker, Mr. John.”
“I don’t know about that, and stop calling me Mr. John. Just John, okay?”
“Okay,” Taylor agreed easily, plopping into the chair she’d taken last night. “What’s for breakfast, then?”
“Oatmeal.” He caught her expression falter and he added quickly, “Or eggs. Take your pick.”
“Eggs, please. I like them all mixed up. Do you like them that way? Chloe doesn’t like eggs so maybe she could have the oatmeal. But me and Lexie like eggs a lot. Chloe didn’t like the way Daddy made his eggs, she said they tasted funny. I didn’t think so but sometimes he made her a special kind. Maybe she didn’t like just his special eggs because when Lexie made eggs she ate ’em right up. Do you make them special, Mr. John?”
The dizzying speed of the child’s twisting and nearly nonsensical dialogue almost had John staring in confusion as he tried to decipher even a quarter of what she’d said but something in that monologue had struck a chord of alarm. “Special eggs, Taylor?”
“Yeah, sometimes he made Chloe her own eggs but—” Taylor’s little face scrunched in distaste “—they always made her tummy hurt afterward. Maybe Daddy wasn’t a very good cooker.”
“Maybe not,” John murmured, though he was starting to feel a little sick to his stomach himself. “How come your Daddy always made Chloe her own special eggs?”
Taylor shrugged. “I dunno. But Daddy yells at Chloe a lot.”
“Why’s that?”
“He just does.” Taylor’s expression dimmed with sadness and John felt something in his chest pull. Her voice dropped to a scared whisper. “She gets lots of spankings.”
Chloe was hardly more than a baby. No one should be raising a hand to her little body.
John stiffened at the anger pouring through his veins at what he was hearing and moved to the fridge to grab the eggs. He’d heard enough and by the time he filled the sheriff’s ear with what he’d learned, there was no way in hell those kids were going back to that son of a bitch. He offered a smile to the little tyke even though he was itching to put his fist through the wall, and went through the motions of cooking up a batch of mixed-up eggs that weren’t special in any way.
GLADYS DIDN’T LOOK VERY GOOD, John thought as he brought her a cup of coffee.
“You sure you don’t want to go see that doc of yours?” he asked.
She waved away his concern. “I’m fine. Just a little winded is all from the excitement last night. I just don’t know what to do about those poor babies. I don’t even know if they’ve been in school or what kind of lives they’ve been living. I’m just beside myself.”
“What about the mother? Do you know where she might be? Maybe I could place a few calls.”
Gladys made a look of distaste. “Oh, don’t waste your time with that one. I only met her once but she never made much of an impression. A little snooty and standoffish if you ask me and we never really hit it off. Not that I was close with Jason, mind you, but at least he was family. I’ve known him since he was a boy. Never had much of a character. Nothing like you and Evan. If you boys had been anything like Jason your mama would’ve lost the ranch the moment the tax man had started calling. No…I knew from the time he was a young man he wasn’t going to amount to much but I’d hoped I was wrong. There’s no satisfaction in being right in this instance.”
“So you think the mother just took off or something like Jason did?”
Gladys sighed. “I don’t know but what kind of mother would leave her babies behind? I can only imagine,” she said, her voice catching as the ghost of an old pain reappeared.
John agreed privately but allowed the quiet to dull the edge of Gladys’s long-ago loss. Even after all this time Gladys felt the agony of her stillborn son. He supposed that was a hurt that never truly healed. Not even with decades of time as a balm.
“So what do we do?”
Gladys looked at him sharply then sighed. “We? Oh, Johnny, this isn’t your problem. I’ll figure something out.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “You’re in no shape to be tending to three little kids. And frankly, I don’t care what you say, I think you need to see your doctor. That surgery might’ve taken more out of you than you realize.”
Gladys was silent for a moment and John had a feeling she was wrestling with her pride, which was no small thing. She wasn’t accustomed to being dependent on someone else and it was probably killing her. But it was a temporary thing and she realized this, too, and finally nodded in agreement.
“You might be right,” she conceded with a sigh. “And I’ve been thinking about what you said about contacting the authorities. Maybe that’s the best thing to do. I don’t think Jason or Renee were doing a great job with these girls. Chloe is most definitely going to need an antibiotic for that cough and something tells me she’s been sick for a while. The poor baby has no color to speak of. They ought to have to work to get them back. Maybe it’ll teach them a lesson in being parents.”
“So you’re saying you’re okay with me calling the sheriff?”
“Yes, on one condition…the children stay together. They need each other.”
“I’ll make the call,” he said, moving to grab the phone. “And then I’m taking Chloe to the doctor.”
RENEE PULLED TO A STOP and took a cursory glance around the ranch that bordered Gladys’s property. She’d waited two agonizing days, but by 11 a.m. the third day Renee figured she ought to start poking around. If Gladys had gone on vacation, she might’ve left instructions with a neighbor to watch the house for her. Either way, Renee might get some kind of information that might be useful in finding Jason and the kids.
She was nearly to the door when a deep voice startled her.
“Didn’t you see the sign?”
Her heart jackhammering in her chest, she stammered a bit as she turned, her gaze catching the sign he was talking about. Trespassers Will Be Shot. No Exceptions. She swallowed and got straight to the point. “I’m sorry…I’m looking for Gladys Stemming but she doesn’t seem to be home and I wondered…”
“What do you want with Gladys?”
She frowned at his tone. “I’m Renee Dolling. Uh, well, she’s my aunt, by marriage, and I—” Why was she explaining herself to this man? Renee straightened. “Has she gone on a trip? If so, do you know when she’ll be back?”
“Dolling?” He repeated, a sudden shrewd light entering the hard stare coming at her from beneath a dusty and worn baseball cap. Little ducktails of dirty blond hair too long to be fashionable stuck out from under the hat as if to clearly state he had no time for such niceties as regular haircuts. And his sun-darkened face had a boyish charm that was completely at odds with the stern expression pinching his mouth as he said again, “Did you say your name was Dolling?”
