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“I hate coming home to an empty house after a hard day at work.” He chuckled at his sick joke.
“I have money,” Rachel said. “A lot of money. I can pay you whatever you want if you’ll just let me go free.”
“If I gave you your freedom, I’d lose mine. Besides, I already have a woman who gives me all the money I ask for.”
“I can give you more. I won’t go to the police. I promise. I’ll stay out of your life forever and never mention this to anyone.”
He chuckled again. “Now, why would I let you go now? Your ugly bruises are almost gone. It no longer makes me sick to look at you.”
“You’ll never get away with this.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, sweet lady. People get away with far worse all the time. No one cares what you do as long as it doesn’t affect them. Even murder gets buried in the haystack.”
Eventually he’d kill her, but he’d do it slow and torturously, get his rocks off on her fear, revel in her misery as if it were a sexual adventure.
How sick would a man have to be to do that?
If Sydney were here, she’d be able to figure him out. She’d get in his mind, discover the demons that drove him. She’d find his weaknesses and use them against him.
Sydney wasn’t here, but she’d know by now that Rachel hadn’t come home from her vacation. She’d be certain something was terribly wrong.
She’d found the Swamp Strangler when no one else could. She’d find Cowboy Monster, too.
All Rachel had to do was stay alive and sane until she did.
Chapter Five (#u71481723-de61-5e0e-a577-fc991205f150)
Esther Kavanaugh stretched and kicked off the lightweight blanket. The oppressive summer heat and humidity hadn’t given in to autumn yet. It seldom did in September, but she had no complaints.
The new cooling and heating system Pierce had installed kept the house as cool and comfortable as she wanted it no matter what the temperature outside. He’d made a dozen other repairs on the old house, as well.
His brother Riley pitched in and helped, even though he was newly married as well and establishing his own ranch right down the road.
That was the kind of young men the Lawrence brothers had grown into. She was thankful for them every day and had loved all three of them since the day she first met them. Now they were literally giving her a reason to keep breathing and getting up every morning to face a new day.
Pierce had been the first to come to her rescue after her husband’s death. He’d shown up one morning with his adorable five-year-old daughter, Jaci, just in the nick of time, as the saying went.
Since she was no longer able to pay her bills or take care of the Double K Ranch, he’d offered to buy the ranch from her—house, barns, livestock and all, closed on it days before foreclosure officers at the bank got a chance to get their greedy hands on everything she and Charlie had struggled all those years to build.
Selling the ranch to Pierce wasn’t even like losing it. She’d likely have willed it to him anyway since he was the oldest of the brothers she considered her only family.
She’d sold it to Pierce for the price it took to keep it out of foreclosure so he could use the rest of his savings to get the ranch running efficiently again.
She hadn’t asked him for a thing in return, but he’d made her a verbal promise that she’d have her house, her garden and her chickens until the day the good Lord called her home.
No reason for a paper contract when you dealt with a man who was as good as his word.
Best part of all was now she had Pierce, his wife, Grace, and Jaci making their home at the ranch. They’d moved into their own cabin two weeks ago, but they were close enough they were in and out of her house every day. And she had Riley, his wife, Dani, and her niece Constance living only a few miles away.
That only left their younger brother, Tucker, for her to worry about.
A world-class bull rider who thrived on the danger and excitement of rodeo life. Followed the circuit, constantly on the move. How was he ever going to meet the right woman when all he had time for was those buckle bunnies out looking for a good time?
He thought he was living the good life but he kept Esther busy just praying he didn’t get hurt by one of those kicking, stamping, snorting bulls.
Worries or not, taking in the Lawrence brothers had been one of the smartest things she and Charlie had ever done.
Instinctively her hand reached over and touched the spot where her husband had slept beside her for most of her adult life. The familiar ache grew heavy in her chest. Lord knew she missed that man. Always would.
But lying here getting all pitiful over things she couldn’t change wouldn’t bring Charlie back. She threw her legs over the side of the bed and wiggled her feet into her slippers before padding to the kitchen.
By the time the coffee was ready, the sun had topped the horizon and the roosters were crowing their welcome to a new day. She filled her favorite mug with the brew, the cup Pierce’s daughter, Jaci, had given her that said I “heart” Grandma.
That little girl could sure make Esther’s heart smile.
Esther spooned a smidgen of sugar into her coffee. She’d have liked a heaping teaspoonful but Doc Carter kept harping on her to take it easy on her sweets.
Of course, if she listened to everything that old pill pusher said, she might as well be eating cowhide and clover.
Pierce and Riley would be up and hard at work by now—rancher’s hours. But one or both would be stopping by later knowing she’d have a hearty breakfast waiting. She’d been cooking big ranch breakfasts for more than half a century and she’d be doing it as long as she was able.
Coffee in hand, she walked through the family room to the front door. Nothing like swaying in her new porch swing and sharing the first light of day with the early birds who’d be flitting around her feeders instead of out searching for worms.
She turned the key in the door only to realize she’d forgotten to lock it again. Years of habit were hard to break although Pierce cautioned her times were changing. They just changed a lot slower around the town of Winding Creek than they did in the big cities.
She opened the door and stepped outside.
“What the dickens?”
She stared at a mud-encrusted truck parked rock-throwing distance from her house. She was about to go get her shotgun and check it out when she saw a hairy-faced man step out of the truck and stretch like he was trying to get the kinks out of his muscles.
Oh m’God. It was Tucker. She set her mug on the porch railing post and raced to greet him.
He opened his arms and she threw herself into them.
“Sorry if I smell as disgusting as I feel,” he said.
She stood back and took a gander at him. “You look like you’ve been sleeping with the cows. How long have you been in that truck?”
“A day or two.”
“Without sleep. That’s dangerous, Tucker. You could...”
He slipped an arm around her ample waist. “Calm down. I got plenty of sleep, just not in a bed. Lights were all out when I got here and I didn’t want to wake up the whole household.”
“There’s no one here to wake up but me.”
“Where’s Pierce and his crew?”
“They moved into their own cabin two weeks ago.”
“That was fast. All he had was a foundation and a shell when I was here for Riley’s wedding. I figured it would be Thanksgiving before he had it livable.”
“He had lots of help from Riley and the neighbors, which you’d know if you came around more often. I can’t believe your brothers didn’t tell me you were coming today.”
“They don’t know. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. I had a few days off before I hit the next rodeo and decided to stop by for one of your famous breakfasts. Fresh yard eggs, thick slices of bacon, fluffy biscuits and homemade blackberry jam. My mouth’s already watering.”
“You came to the right place. First thing you need is to find a razor and I ’spect a shower wouldn’t hurt none, either.”
He rubbed his heavily whiskered chin. “Right on both counts.” He reached back in the truck for a duffel and slung it over his shoulder.
Just having him here lit up her world, but she wasn’t quite buying the spur-of-the-moment excuse. Something was bothering him. He was saying the right things, but the words didn’t quite ring true. It wasn’t just his haggard appearance. She could see trouble in his eyes and hear it in his voice.
She’d pry the truth out of him later. Right now she was going to do what would make them both feel good.
Feed him.
* * *
TUCKER KICKED OUT of his boots, stripped out of his clothes and stepped into the shower. Pipes creaked in the old house, but the water was hot and his cramped muscles reveled in the massaging spray.
Crazy that this place had the feel of home though he’d only lived in it for ten months. Painful months of grieving and coming to grips with an existence that would never again include his parents.
He’d been afraid, angry and, most of all, heartbroken. The Kavanaughs had helped him make it through the trauma, especially Esther. Her faith, love and compassion had been his salvation.
He didn’t expect that kind of miracle this time. The answers he needed now had to come from inside himself.
By the time he’d showered, shaved and dressed in a pair of his most worn and comfortable jeans, the odors of bacon and coffee were doing a number on his stomach.
He shoved his feet into his boots and started down the hall. Laughter and familiar voices chimed in before he reached the kitchen. Esther had clearly wasted no time in spreading the news that he was here.
“What are you two freeloaders doing here?” he joked as he joined his brothers in the kitchen.
“Checking to see why you came sneaking in like a horse thief in the middle of the night,” Pierce said.
“I just figured you stopped by to rub in how much money you’re making working eight seconds a night,” Riley said, pulling him into a playful neck hold.
“No way. I just came by for Esther’s cooking.”
“I can buy that,” Pierce said. “Let’s get to it before the biscuits get cold.”
Breakfast turned into a boisterous, laid-back reunion. He needed that more than either of them would guess.
* * *
SYDNEY STARED INTO the bathroom mirror, her reflection a haunting image of the agony that had kept her awake most of the night. Her eyelids were puffy, the circles below her eyes dark.
The little sleep she’d gotten had been restless and interrupted by frightening nightmares where Rachel was crying for help or fighting for her life.
The highway noises hadn’t helped. Eighteen-wheelers sounded as if they were roaring through her room. Exhaustion would work against her. She needed to be fully alert today, picking up on every clue no matter how small or how well hidden.
She knew from experience and training that it was the seemingly unimportant details that frequently made the difference.
Her sister had spent almost seventy dollars in a bakery. That couldn’t have all been for coffee and sweets, but it was a large enough purchase that hopefully whoever had waited on Rachel would remember her. They might recall if she’d been alone or with someone. If she’d seemed distraught or worried. If anyone had harassed her in any way.
Reaching for her brush, Sydney ran it through her layered sandy-blond hair, attempting to force the unruly locks into place. She was only mildly successful.
Her movements on automatic, Sydney applied the basics—moisturizing sunscreen, eyeliner, mascara, a smear of gloss on her lips. The first stop of the morning would be Dani’s Delights.
Her phone rang on her way to her car. She fished it from her handbag and checked the caller ID. FBI.
Was it possible Jackson Clark wanted her on the case despite her personal connection?
Her surge of optimism was quickly followed by a sharp pain to her stomach that almost doubled her over.
Please don’t let this be bad news about Rachel, she prayed silently as she took the call.
“Is this Agent Sydney Maxwell?”
“Yes.”
“Can you hold for a minute? Jackson Clark in the Dallas office of the Bureau would like to speak to you.”
“Yes.”
She held her breath the few seconds before his booming voice came through. “Thanks for holding, Sydney.”
“No problem.” No hint in his tone that this was a bad-news call. She breathed easier.
“I don’t think we’ve met but I’m familiar with your work,” Jackson said, “especially that amazing job you did on the Swamp Strangler case.”
“Thank you. We haven’t officially met,” she agreed, “but I took one of your classes at Quantico.”
“Sorry I don’t remember. Those classes are usually overflowing and I’m busy trying to cover more than the time allows.”
“I didn’t expect you to remember me.”
“I hope I didn’t call you at a bad time,” he said, “but I just got off the phone with Roland Farmer. He mentioned your sister didn’t show up at a resort near Austin a little over a week ago and hasn’t been heard from since. I hope you have good news by now.”
“No, sir. She’s still missing and I’m extremely concerned.” Panic verging on hysteria would be more accurate, but a good FBI agent never admitted panic.
“I’m really sorry to hear that,” Jackson said. “I’m sure you’ve talked to local law enforcement.”
“Yes, and checked all the hospitals as well as ran a paper trail. The last place we have any record of her whereabouts was a charge she’d made to a credit card in a bakery in Winding Creek, Texas, called Dani’s Delights.”
“Yes. I also have that information. Does she have relatives or friends in that area?”
“No relatives for certain and no friends that I know of.”
