Chapter Six
On three hundred thousand acres of prime Texas real estate and in one hell of a palatial home, the senator explained that his family had owned the property for three generations on his mother’s side. When she’d passed away ten years ago, she’d willed it to him. To him—not the old man. That might make a guy ornery, knowing his wife wanted him out after she’d died. Cowboy had to wonder what exactly had caused her to do something like that.
Since his last visit—two weeks before Jessie and his life were irrevocably altered—the place had been remodeled. The doors were now mostly glass, the once marble floor in the foyer replaced with wood, the planks unique in finish and color, like smooth caramel. He’d never made it much past the front entrance and grand staircase. He wouldn’t know what other renovations had taken place. But the kitchen, with its dark navy cupboards, looked and smelled new, the lingering aroma of fresh paint and plaster hanging in the air. The ranch had ten rooms in all, six for family in the east wing, three for guests in the west, and one by the kitchen. A house this size was designed to entertain, but from what he’d heard, Mrs. Stanton didn’t do much of it.
After Cowboy explained how they’d come to arrive together, the senator seemed to warm to Grace. As if Cowboy’s approval of the woman meant something to Stanton. He guessed a Texan’s opinion of a female so obviously born and bred in the North meant something to the man. Now sitting by the pool, Cowboy accepted the cold beer Stanton offered and then proceeded to compliment him on his house, making sure that no one would think he’d been here before. “This is one heck of a pool. I’ve never seen tile like that before,” he said, pointing to the mauve and red mosaic pattern that encircled the inside trim of the concrete pool.
“The tile is Italian. My grandmother brought it back from one of her many trips abroad.”
He’d known that. Just as he’d known several spare cases had been shipped in case repairs ever needed to be done. “Wow. Is the pool original to this house?” It wasn’t but had been installed in the fifties, as Stanton proceeded to tell him.
“I understand your grandmother enjoyed traveling but your grandfather didn’t,” Grace chimed in.
“No, he did not. He and my father have that in common. But my grandmother was very independent. If she wanted to go somewhere and he didn’t, she went without him.”
“The African safari with your mother must have been fun.”
Stanton’s eyebrows rose, Grace clearly having surprised him. “Like I said, my father shared my grandfather’s beliefs that one should stay close to home. Businesses trips were unavoidable but chasing lions wasn’t high on his bucket list. My mother and grandmother went on their own.” Stanton smiled.
From what Cowboy had seen today and now seeing the snarky grin on the senator, Stanton and his father weren’t as tight as they made the media believe.
“I’d heard she and your grandmother were close. Her death hit your mother hard.”
“They weren’t just mother and daughter. They were kindred spirits,” the senator said with a wistful expression. “I loved them dearly.”
“Your grandfather passed away soon after that.” Grace had done her homework. “Leaving the ranch to your mother, Lila. And then upon her death it passed to you, bypassing your father?” she asked. But Cowboy suspected she knew the answer already.
“You’ve done your research, Ms. Irvine.” His expression remained neutral.
Was he pissed? Or impressed? It was hard to tell.
“I want people to see the man behind the senator,” Grace responded. “The public needs to be reminded that behind all the drama is the good man they once had enough faith in to elect. Giving them your political achievements isn’t enough. They need to connect with you as a person.” The wind kicked up, blowing a large strand of her hair over her face. She brushed it away.
Stanton nodded, seeming to agree with her. “And you think you can get them to see past… the drama.”
“I can present the facts, such as your brother’s embezzlement charges, in a different way. I’ll make sure to point out that it was him, not you, who broke the law. We’ll also remind everyone you were the one who brought forth the bill on tighter regulations to prevent fraudulent insurance claims. Then we’ll finish with the man behind the politician. Like the grandfather personally picking up his granddaughter from the airport. So yes, senator, I think I can. We can’t deny what’s happened, but the public should separate the truth from supposition. You are not responsible for your family’s poor judgment.”
She’d said it with such confidence, Cowboy had to wonder if she didn’t have an ace up her sleeve.
They were seated at one of the many tables dotting the deck, Grace’s legs crossed as yet another gust of wind blew the hem of her dress higher on her knee. And what a knee it was. She had great legs, long…lean… muscled in all the right place and covered in silky tanned skin.
“What do you think, Daniel? You think public opinion can be swayed?”
“I think if anyone can do it, Ms. Irvine can. She has a reputation for tearing down politicians, not building them up. I believe if she gives you a fair shake, it’ll carry more weight than any puff piece will.”
Grace eyebrows shot up. It was her turn to be surprised.
“I read,” he said to her as in the distance lightning lit up the sky. What he’d done was read the articles Monty had wisely supplied. Grace Irvine was a ballbuster when it came to political corruption. She’d earned one of them fancy awards while writing her master’s thesis.
The senator looked skyward. “Where did those come from?” he asked about the dark clouds now looming overhead. “They weren’t there a minute ago.”
No, but they were here now. And soon it would rain. Judging from the thunderous boom cracking sound barriers, it was going to be one hell of a storm.
“They’d forecasted rain,” Grace said, “but overnight. I guess they got it wrong.”
And as if she’d jinxed it, the sky opened and soaked their sorry asses. By the time they’d made it to the patio doors all three of them looked like they’d gone swimming with their clothes on.
“Well, that was fun.” Stanton ran his fingers through his greying hair. “Let me get some towels. It’s a good thing my wife isn’t here.” He chuckled as he cut through the kitchen. “She’d have something to say about my dripping water over her hardwood floors.” His tone, despite good humor, indicated all was not well with the Stantons.
Grace brushed the rain off her arms, her pretty sundress plastered to her body. Although not made of a flimsy fabric, it did nothing to hide the shapely figure beneath it. While he and Stanton resembled drowned rats, she looked even more beautiful.
“This is going to make for a damp ride back to town,” Grace said on a laugh. “Thank God your seats are leather or I’d leave one major wet spot. Explain that to valet parking.”
“Glad to see you have a sense of humor about this.” He could change into the gym clothes still in the backseat of his truck, but she’d have to wait until they got back to the hotel.
“No point in not laughing it off. And here I was worried about looking professional.” She peeled her skirt off her thighs. “You, on the other hand, are Mr. Darcy after his swim.”
“Huh?” Who the hell was Mr. Darcy?
“You said you read. Don’t you read period pieces?”
“You mean like War and Peace? I’d rather watch wallpaper peel.”
“Never mind. Just think sexy guy, wet clothes.”
“You think I’m sexy?” He knew women found him attractive, but it boosted his ego to know Grace thought so. He also knew flirting with her wasn’t a good idea, but dumbass that he was, he did it anyway. “’Cause right now…” He leaned in, getting so close her warm breath fanned his lips. Instantly other parts of his body warmed. “… You got me beat.”
He’d caught her off guard, so it took her a few seconds for the blush to fan her cheeks. That too stroked his ego… and a few other things. A silence filled with images of sweat-slicked bodies and rumpled sheets stood between them. If this didn’t stop, he’d end up kissing her. And that would be bad. He was here to do a job and go. She might be practical as all hell and be willing to scratch the itch he suspected they both shared, but part of him feared Ms. Grace Irvine would get under his skin. And that too would be bad.
Stanton returned with an armful of towels, breaking the mood. “I’ll have the housekeeper make you something warm. Would you like tea?”
“I don’t want to inconvenience anyone,” Grace said, taking a towel.
“It’s not an inconvenience.” When Grace opened her mouth to argue he added, “Would you have them say I sent you home to catch your death of cold?”
He had her there. Cowboy dried off his face and hair and patted as much water as he could to avoid dripping through the house. Stanton might get a kick out of tormenting his wife, but Cowboy’s mama had taught him differently. He watched as Grace also tried to soak up the water. “You know, I have my gym clothes in the car, shorts and sweats. They’ll be large but it’d be better than returning to the hotel in wet clothes.”
“You’ll get wet doing me yet another favor.”
He cleared his throat, glancing down at himself. “News flash.”
She laughed. “I guess it’s too late for that.”
“In the meantime, it’ll let you and the senator start your interview.” It would give him time to check out the house.
“There’s an umbrella in the front closet. You may be here longer than anticipated,” Stanton said. “They say it’s going to storm for a few hours. Visibility is terrible. It might be best if you stay the night.”
“That’s very nice of you,” Grace answered. “I don’t mind waiting out the storm and then heading to the hotel. Unless Daniel has an objection to driving that late.”
“I don’t mind,” Cowboy said. “I’ll go fetch those clothes.” He waited for the go-ahead from Grace, then rushed to his car. He didn’t want her standing in wet clothes in an air-conditioned room. Plus, it would give him the opportunity to fetch some things he’d stashed in his trunk just in case the opportunity presented itself, as it had right now.
It didn’t take long before he was back with the grey jersey shorts and sweats and the t-shirts he’d tossed in the duffel bag. Stanton’s housekeeper was in the kitchen making tea while Grace hugged the towel around her shoulders, her lips having taken on a tinge of blue.
“Better get changed. You’re shivering.” Instinctually he took a step forward, wanting to wrap his arms around her. Instead, he held up shorts in one hand and sweats in the other. “Pick.”
She grinned, nodding toward the sweats as she reached for the shorts. “I’d have to roll those things thirty times.”
“Bathroom is around corner and down the hall,” the young housekeeper said in a thick European accent. Polish? Russian maybe? The red hair was throwing Cowboy off. “Want I show?” she asked Grace.
“No, thank you. I’ll find it.”
“Better you change in my room. Come,” she said, eagerly taking Grace’s arm and leading her out of the kitchen.
“Lily’s Russian,” Stanton said. “For the life of me I can’t pronounce her full name. An exchange student. Great gal, if a little too eager to please. Her parents have high hopes for her.”
“You know her family?”
“No. She told us. We make it a point to employ at least one student. My daughter’s college roommate was on scholarship from Thailand,” he explained. “She introduced us to the exchange program and we’ve stuck with it ever since. They get the hours and the paycheck they need and we get to learn about other cultures on an intimate level, doing our part to help. Win-win.”
Except it wasn’t how Cowboy remembered the Stantons. In a small town, people talk, and he hadn’t always lived on his mother’s ranch. They had had the big house on the hill, overlooking the rest of the peons. Everyone knew old man Stanton had tried to remove Reverend Cook. The idea of having to look up to a black man on a pulpit every Sunday wasn’t to his liking. He’d cited some bullshit about a Yankee preaching to Southerners. Not many believed him, but when you own the town, no one says anything. Although his son had never come out and defended his father, he sure as hell never went against him.
“The bathroom’s just around the corner. Why don’t you get changed, and I’ll get you another drink?” Stanton asked.
“No, thank you. I have to drive Ms. Irvine home.” He didn’t drink and drive.
“Ms. Irvine is having tea. Would you like a tea or a coffee to warm up then?”
Coffee sounded good. “Coffee would be nice. Black.” Then he left to change out of his wet clothes, all the while avoiding thinking about Grace stripping down and slipping on his clothes.
On his return, the young Russian pulled out the pot of fresh coffee and poured him a cup, passing it to him with a shy but flirtatious smile. “You very tall.”
“My mama fed me well,” he said, giving his usual answer when people commented on his size. He wasn’t sure who’d he inherited his height from. His father and brothers had barely reached six feet and his mother was a tiny thing.
He nodded his thanks, curious as to how many students Stanton had hired, again remembering old man Stanton’s hatred of anyone not Southern or white. It had always amazed Cowboy how the family had managed to keep his vile opinions out of the press. Though he guessed there were many who shared his views.
Fortunately, only a few chose to drive the thirty miles to another parish, while most of the town had defended the reverend’s right to stay. And that was enough to infuriate the old bastard, who then recruited parishioners to disrupt services, like spoiled brats in high school. They’d cough or sneeze repeatedly, sing out of key or one line behind. For the most part everyone ignored them until a bad case of food poisoning at a church function pointed fingers at Cook and his wife. Trouble was his family hadn’t prepared the meal. Cowboy’s mom and her friends had. It was one of the few times he’d seen his dad blow a gasket at someone other than himself.
It was after that event that Jessie caught the eye of Stanton’s son. Even as a kid himself Cowboy had wondered if his pursuit of the reverend’s daughter had been for nefarious purposes, given the grief old man Stanton had given her father. Looking back at it, how much was the old man responsible for Jessie’s rape? Could his grandson have been taking orders or, at the very least, the lead from his grandfather? No denying the kid was a sick bastard, the high school bully and then some. But properly encouraged, would he have taken things so far? And what would that mean for his and Jessie’s secret? With that thought, thunder cracked the sky. The house literally shook. The storm wasn’t letting up.
Grace returned then and, while another man might laugh at the sight of her in clothes clearly too big for her, it turned Cowboy on. Not only was she wearing his stuff, which was hot as hell, she looked damn adorable. “The perfect fit.”
She gave him a look and then, with a “thank you,” she took the tea cup from the housekeeper. “Thank God for drawstrings. There’s enough fabric here to clothe three of me. At least I’m dry. Senator, mind if I grab my iPad and we can continue?”
“That’s my cue to leave.” And it was Mother Nature’s cue to screw things up. The lights flickered once, twice, hesitated, then blinked off.
From somewhere in the dark, he heard, “Damn. Nobody move. The generators will kick in soon.”
Twenty seconds later, Stanton was right and the generators powered most of the light. From the hum of the refrigerator it too was back on, and then the air conditioner boomed to life.
“Well at least we have power,” Grace said.
“We do,” Stanton said, “but we’re on the same grid as half of San Antonio. And they don’t make generators big enough to power a city.” He went over to the landline phone in the kitchen and picked it up. “It works. That’s good. Let me make a call and find out the damage to the grid. Make yourself comfortable.”
Following Grace into the family room, they took a seat on one of the caramel-colored leather sofas. “This is going to be a long night.” Cowboy made sure to keep his voice down. In normal circumstances he wouldn’t mind being stranded in a beautiful estate with an even more beautiful woman, but he wanted to see Jessie’s story.
“You think he’ll ask us to stay?” she asked, sounding hopeful.
Something told him he should be wary. “Why does that make you happy?”
She glanced toward the kitchen, checking to see if Stanton was still on the phone. He was. “Look, if I had my car, I’d drive. But I would never ask someone else to.”
“It’s just rain.” He’d driven in worse, much worse.
“It’s a torrential downpour, taking out powerlines. Be practical, and besides, the only one here is him, his granddaughter, and the housekeeper. I was in her room. She has earplugs by her bed. This would be a perfect time to snoop.”
And there he had it. “His grandson is here too. And just what do you think you’re going to find?” The police had questioned the senator. They hadn’t done a search. But he’d packed a kit. And as soon as he could, he was going on the hunt for any signs of a struggle, including blood traces. She, however, didn’t have science behind her.
“I’m not sure. Something, anything that Jessie might have stumbled on by accident.”
“Did her article indicate that?” He’d really like to get his hands on it, maybe send a copy to Monty.
“No. It painted him an honorable man with a screwy family. It was endearing, could almost make a person cry. It surprised me.”
“Why?” Considering what Stanton’s son had done to her, it surprised him too. Hell, he was surprised she agreed to write the article.
“Because, as forgiving and sweet as she was, she wasn’t stupid. She could see through people’s bullshit.”
“And you think Stanton did a number on her?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
He wanted to ask more questions but Stanton’s voice interrupted him.
“Looks like we won’t have power for hours. A tree took down a power grid and lightning took out another. The city is working on getting them up but it could be a while. They’re asking residents to stay put and out of the way. The police already have their hands busy with multiple accidents. I’d like to extend an invitation for you to stay the night.”
She looked at Daniel, who shrugged. “That’s very generous of you. Are you sure we won’t be in the way?”
“It’s just me and Ella, my granddaughter. She’s suffering a little jet lag, plus she’s a teenager. She won’t even know you’re here. Lily is the only household staff member who sleeps in the house. My grandson has chosen to bunk with the ranch hands out back. He’s determined to learn everything there is about ranching… and politics,” he said with a smile and a shake of his head, “before he makes a career choice. And my father is staying in town.” He sounded pleased in a way that didn’t read as gratitude the old man was safe. There was a definite rift between the two. “You won’t be in anyone’s way. I assure you.”
“Then thank you. I wouldn’t ask Daniel to drive me back in this rain.”
“Great. Now that that’s settled why don’t you and I chat? Daniel, you think you can keep yourself busy for a little while? I’m not sure how long we’ll be, but there’s a big screen in the den by my father’s office. Satellite’s down but there’s plenty of DVDs and PlayStation if you’re into that.”
“You play?” Grace asked.
“Grandkids insisted. You’ll come to learn, Ms. Irvine, we do anything for those kids. They’re the most important thing to us. Never take that for granted.”
“Us?”
“Every adult in this household. My father too much sometimes.”
“You only have one family.” Cowboy pushed down the regret at the loss of his. It wouldn’t do him any good to dwell on it. “I’ll find something to do. Take your time and enjoy your interview,” he said, not bothering to ask for directions to the den. If he got lost and opened one or two of the wrong doors, well, oops.
He watched as the senator took a seat opposite Grace, and then went straight to work, counting on her to keep Stanton busy. He headed for the closet in the entrance to retrieve the kit he kept in his car for just such opportunities. He’d have to work fast and then return the black light and testing vials to his trunk before anyone was the wiser.
He put the senator’s office on the top of his list. He thought he’d lucked out when in the first room he snuck into, pictures of Ella cluttered the desk. In one, she was blowing out six candles on a cake, her mother grinning beside her. In another taken more recently, she held balloons in one hand and a massive bouquet of flowers in the other. It was odd. Something in the girl’s eyes contradicted the smile on her face. There were others at various stages of her life. The man obviously adored his granddaughter. Noticeably, there were no pictures of Mrs. Stanton.
The room, more modern than he’d expected, had only a few antique pieces, including the desk and a sideboard that doubled as a bar. He slipped on a pair of gloves, not wanting to leave prints should the police ever decide to investigate, then yanked a drawer. It was locked. Given this was a senator’s office, that wasn’t surprising nor was it a problem. Cowboy had been picking locks most of his life. When he hadn’t been trying to break into his brothers’ private Playboy stash, he’d been stealing their off-road bikes, the ones they’d refused to lend him because he was either too little or too young. But he could ride circles around them. And the one and only time he’d crashed had been to avoid a mother duck and her ducklings. His father had grounded him for a month. Added to the rest of his punishments, that summer would have been spent mostly indoors had Cowboy not snuck out his bedroom window nearly every night. It was easy when no one really paid you much attention, other than to yell at you.
He found nothing to lead back to Jessie. The trash bin had been emptied, not that he’d expected to find incriminating evidence just tossed aside. He ran a small portable black light over the mustard-colored leather sofa and chair and the red-toned Indian area rug in the room, coming up with nada. He did the same over anything heavy enough to be used as a weapon. The built-in shelves were laden with philosophy books from ancient Greece to modern day, everything from Aristotle to Nagel to David Chalmers. The copy of Pride and Prejudice threw him, but maybe it belonged to his wife. Grinning, he now understood Grace’s wet shirt comment. He withdrew a few books here and there but he didn’t have time to search each and every item.
He moved on to what could only be Lyle Stanton’s office. This room was far more ornate with dark carved paneling and a coffered ceiling. It too had shelves filled with books and again a bigger than life desk was locked. A couple of minutes later, he found several files inside. One for the new bill he’d heard tell the senator was proposing, of which Cowboy knew nothing. Pulling out his cell, he took shots to send to the team later. Underneath that file was a photograph. In it was a young boy, twelve maybe thirteen years of age, playing basketball on an outdoor city court. The black and white photo had been taken with a zoom lens. Why was he spying on young boys? Was the old man a pervert? That could certainly get a woman killed if she’d discovered it. He snapped another picture.
The rest of the search turned up nothing. On his way out, he spotted paper in the small wastebasket to the left of the desk and figured what the hell. Sometimes people toss things away thinking no one would put two and two together. He drew out the crumbled sheet. Straightening the paper, he discovered lab results, blood to be exact. He took a picture, then balled it up and tossed it back where he’d found it.
He checked his watch. Thirty minutes had passed. He headed to the den the senator spoke of, knowing he’d need to get his equipment back to his car before he was discovered. He did the same here and again came up empty. How many more rooms did he dare search? It wasn’t likely Jessie had been upstairs, but then again who knew. He opted for a quick peak but first put the kit in the front closet, not wanting to risk being caught with it. At each door he listened, not wanting to chance waking up Ella. Unless the senator listened to Justin Bieber, he knew he’d found her when the soft sound of music came from behind the third door.
When the pungent smell of stale cigar smoke hit his nose he knew he’d found Lyle’s room. Despite the old man’s habit, it was well known his son was anti-smoking. Come to think of it, he hadn’t smelled stale tobacco smoke anywhere in the house except here. Lyle wasn’t the type to take orders from his son. Had the house been nonsmoking prior to Lila Stanton’s death? Or how much of a backseat had Lyle taken after her death?
There was nothing of real interest in Lyle’s room, except his computer, which was password protected. Lightning that lit up the room was followed by a megaton boom. That was a close one. He reminded himself to make sure the stables had the proper lightning rods. Then he managed to find Lyle’s appointment book and, twenty photos later, he pocketed the small flashlight he’d been using and left the smelly room, hoping like hell none of the cigar stink clung to his clothes.
He was in the middle of the hall debating if he could risk searching out the senator’s room when a young voice startled him.
“You’d better be who I think you are, or I’m going to scream.”
He turned to find who he assumed was Ella standing in the hall. She wore pajama bottoms that were too small for her and a long sleeve, loose fitting crop top.
“I’m Daniel. I’ve been hired to find you a horse.”
“Okay, good, no screaming. Not the kind that makes my grandpa find his shotgun anyway.” She smiled, extending her hand and moving in far too close for his comfort. “I’m Ella, but you already know that,” she said, giving him the once over like a seasoned flirt.
He didn’t mind women checking him out. Honestly, what warm-blooded man would? But this little girl… damn, someone needed to have a long talk with her. Having no choice, he gave her an over the top handshake, wanting to remind her he was a man and far too old for her. He went to pull away, but didn’t she have the balls to hang on. For a teenager, she had a tight grip. He looked down at their joined hands and noticed the gauze peeking out from around her wrist. “I thought you were in bed?”
“I was… and now I’m not. The thunder woke me and the rest of the state of Texas up.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “It was a loud one.”
“Are you lost?”
That was as a good an excuse as any. “I must have gotten turned around in the dark.”
“Grandma keeps flashlights in every hall.” She went to scoot past him, then seemed to trip and fell into him. “Oops.”
Oops his ass, and this kid needed to eat. She wasn’t a little on the thin side. Grasping her by the shoulders and setting her aside, he hadn’t failed to notice she was skin and bones. He heard of waist trainers and thigh gaps—all stupid as far as he was concerned—but she wouldn’t be able to ride a horse if she didn’t gain some muscle.
“Sorry,” she cooed. “Must have caught my slipper on the rug.”
She sashayed down the hall, twirling the end of the scarf she had tied around her head with her fingers. The emergency light plugged into the outlets reflected off pale, young skin. She wasn’t wearing slippers. Cowboy pitied her daddy. She opened a small dresser and pulled out two flashlights, flicked them on, and returned, giving him one and keeping the other for herself.
“You’ll have to go back down to the landing and take a left on the staircase. Guest rooms are in the west wing. Unless you want some company? You can come to my room.”
Holy shit. He not only pitied her daddy, but every man who caught her eye. This girl was trouble. Exactly what the senator didn’t need. “I think I’ll be going back down.”
“Suit yourself.” She shrugged. “But if you change your mind….” Then, thankfully, she closed her bedroom door.
He released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He notched a big groove in his brain, reminding himself to stay as far away as he could from Ella. And if he needed to come to this part of the house, he’d better do it when she was nowhere around.
He made his way back downstairs. One step into the kitchen and he saw Grace wasn’t finished with her interview, their conversation looking intense. Instead, he hiked it back to the den and called Monty. He answered on the second ring. Slacker. He usually answered on the first.
“What’s up, Wolfman?”
It was a running joke among the team that Cowboy had been raised by wolves. Monty knew different, but as far as everyone else was concerned Cowboy had no family and never did. In fact, Grace had learned more about him in the past couple of days than his teammates had in the six years since he’d joined ICU. “I’m sending you some intel. One is lab results. Have someone decipher it for me. I can see its bloodwork but it looks to me like they were targeting something specific. See if you can find the lab where it was taken. There’s no patient’s name on it, which is odd.”
“So glad you appreciate my expertise,” he said, clearly full of himself.
Unfortunately for everyone who had to listen to him, he was justified in his boasting. “I not only appreciate it, I bow to it.” Cowboy knew computers but compared to Monty, Cowboy’s skills were akin to pressing the on switch.
“What else?”
“A Day-Timer. Can you run it, see if anything stands out? I’ll go through it myself but the more eyes the better. There’s also a copy of the bill the senator is proposing in house. That shit flies right over my head. If Jessie discovered some political conspiracy, maybe it’s in that bill.”
“Not my expertise, but Ryan is good at that stuff.”
Ryan was good at a lot of things, but their boss rarely involved himself in the investigations. Not that he was averse to it, but he paid them well and someone on the team knew something about something. Still, Monty was right. Ryan was a good one to ask for anything politically related.
“You got anything else?”
“Think you can find a copy of the will that gave the senator his mother’s house?” He walked over to the window and drew back the curtain. Through the reflection given by the outside emergency lights, he could see the rain coming down in sheets. It was one hell of a storm. “See if it’s original or when it had been amended?”
“I’ll give it my best.”
“And one more thing.” Quite possibly the most important. “I found a picture of a kid, a boy, in Lyle Stanton’s desk. Run it through missing kids.”
“Any idea who he is?”
“No. Do your magic.”
“I just opened the picture.” After a short pause he said, “If we’re lucky I can identify the building in the background. It will help narrow the city. By the way, that judge, the one who will sentence Mrs. Stanton. She’s a close friend of the family. Very close.”
“She can’t let Mrs. Stanton off with a slap on the wrist. The public is watching the case.”
“Who knows with crooked judges. All right, let me get to work.”
“I’ll be waiting.” He shut off his phone, wanting desperately to believe he’d found something, anything, that would lead him to Jessie. Tomorrow he’d search the stables. Jessie didn’t ride, or hadn’t when he’d known her, but she loved animals. He’d seen her spend numerous summer vacations dog-walking or cat-sitting people’s pets when they were either out of town or too lazy to do it themselves. It’s possible that when she’d visited the house, she’d gone to see the horses.
He headed for the closet and then returned the kit back to his trunk. He wandered back to the kitchen and seeing they’d yet to wrap it up, returned to the den and reached for the gaming paddle. Who knew how long they’d be at it.