“Why do I need a paternity test?” Grady’s jaw clenched as he heard Linx exit the house and zoom off in her SUV.

“A precaution. I’m sure she believes the child is yours,” Becca said. “But if what she says is true, that she did get drunk and had sex with unknown parties, then we have to be sure. Besides, there’s no chance a judge would hear your case without a positive paternity test.”

“Okay. How do we get the test done?” Grady’s heart galloped unsteadily. “Are you going to inform the Pattersons about my claim?”

“It will have to be a court order,” Becca said. “I have to present reasonable evidence, based on Linx’s testimony that she now believes you are Jessie’s father. Obviously, we can’t have people ordering paternity tests on random children.”

“Can’t I make a claim based on my sexual relationship with Linx approximately nine months before Jessie’s birth?” Grady wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans. “I don’t want Linx charged with perjury.”

“They probably won’t charge her,” Becca said. “But it’s something Pastor Patterson can use against her. No two ways about it. Linx is going to take the hit.”

“You’re her sister. Can’t you shield her?”

Becca shook her head. “I have to follow the law, but I can refuse to take your case—conflict of interest.”

“Fair enough.” Grady heaved his shoulders, blowing out his frustration. “So, I find an attorney and ask for a paternity test. If it’s positive, then what?”

“I might be defending my sister if it comes down to your attorney suing Linx for defrauding you. That would be the tactic he’d take. He would also go after Judge Stephens for not following up on finding the father. Also, since there was no father listed, your paternity rights were never officially terminated. The entire adoption could be overturned—if you want to pursue it. On the other hand, the Pattersons’ attorney could dig up dirt about your attitude toward Linx, calling her a liar, denying the possible child was yours, and not making an effort to determine if she actually had a baby or not—letting almost six years go by. It’ll be ugly.”

“Ugly.” Grady shook his head as a soggy weight settled over his shoulders. Ugly would hurt everyone, especially Jessie. “Thanks for the advice. What do I owe you for the consult?”

“No charge.” Becca leveled her hazel-colored eyes on him. “But if you eff with my sister, I’m coming after you. My sister made mistakes. Lots of them. But you weren’t around to help her. You saw the pictures on the piano, didn’t you?”

Grady huffed as he walked toward the collection of family portraits. “Your mother seemed detached from Linx. She wouldn’t even hold her. Why is that?”

“My mother had issues, and unfortunately, she picked on Linx. I think she suffered a breakdown. She watched too many horror movies and dabbled with the occult. She believed Linx was the devil’s child.”

“But why Linx? Why not Joey or Vivi?” Grady fumed at the unfairness of it all.

“I don’t know the answer to that,” Becca said. “Maybe there’s no reason. Or some chemical imbalance causing her to reject Linx. She wasn’t exactly a normal mother to the rest of us—acted more like an aunt.”

Grady walked by the piano and stared at the picture of Linx as a baby, held by her father. Even at that age, she looked tense and lost, as if she already knew she wasn’t wanted.

“All I did was make things worse for her when I rejected her.” The realization slammed him like a firestorm flashing through a blind canyon. “My issues are nothing like hers. My parents smothered me to death, and I reacted to her clinging by shoving her away.”

“Her issues are not yours unless you want them to be,” Becca said, narrowing her eyes. “If you’re stringing her along because you think being with her will help you win custody of your daughter, I’m telling you it won’t. You’re better off being the aggrieved party without her.”

“What are you saying?” Grady felt his heart hammering to escape his chest. “That I’m only with Linx because of Jessie?”

“I want to know why you’re hanging around her. If you’re using her to get to know Jessie, then I’m going to hang you high. My sister doesn’t need you to lead her around like a donkey with a nose ring.”

“I didn’t come here looking for Jessie—not initially. I didn’t even know about her. I suspected Linx might have lied, but I thought she’d had an abortion.”

“So you came looking for answers.” Becca crossed her arms. “You’ll get them with the paternity test. Then what?”

“I don’t know.” Grady headed to the front door. “I need to find Linx. I need to make it right with her, and then we’ll figure out where to go from here.”

“I love my sister.” Becca pointed a finger at him. “There’s not a Colson on this ranch who doesn’t love Linx. We’re only tolerating your presence because Tami and Todd told us about Salem getting in between your messages, but you, Grady Hart, are not off probation. You hurt my sister, and we’ll run you out of this town. You can take your hotshot smokejumping ways back to Montana, Idaho or even better, Siberia.”

“I won’t hurt her.” Grady swallowed a thick lump in his throat. “Because I love her.”

He turned quickly and opened the front door.

“Hold it.” Becca’s bark was like a command. “You don’t get to throw words like that around when you’re dealing with my sister unless you mean them.”

Grady swallowed rocks all the way down his throat. “It’s not easy for me to admit it, but I need Linx like I need oxygen—with or without Jessie. She’s my first priority, and I’m worried she might have run off for good.”

“She goes off to sulk, but because of Jessie, she’ll never leave Colson’s Corner.” Becca put a hand on his arm. “If you’re so worried, I can tell you where to find her. My mother used to have an artist’s cabin past the cow pasture. It’s near the creek so you’ll see a grove of trees. Linx hides there when she’s hurt. We pretend we don’t know where she is, but we keep it stocked with canned food, and after a few days, she always comes back.”

Maybe this time was different. This time, she might never come back—because of Jessie and him.

“Show me where the cabin is,” Grady said.

Becca walked with him partway to his truck and pointed toward a green patch past the fields of hay.

“Thank you.” Grady clasped her hand. “For trusting me. Whether I get Jessie back or not, Linx and I are on the same team.”

* * *

Linx sped toward the interstate with Cedar in the passenger seat. She had to get out of the state of California before Grady and Becca informed the court that she’d committed perjury.

Stopping at a convenience store, she hit the ATM machine and withdrew her limit of cash for the day. Then she called Vanessa Ransom. She needed someone to take care of her dogs, and Nessa had contacts with other dog rescue centers.

“Hello? Dr. Ransom speaking.” Nessa answered her phone.

“It’s Linx Colson. I need someone to take over my rescue center, and you mentioned you were a dog trainer.”

“I am a dog trainer, but what’s going on with your rescue center?” Nessa asked.

“I need to leave the state. Short notice. Do you know anyone who could take over? Any other centers needing space to expand?”

“I, uh, don’t get why you’re leaving.”

“I’m a fugitive from the law. Please don’t tell anyone I called, but I have to leave California. I can’t leave the dogs without anyone to care for them. I have volunteers, but I need a center director to take over.”

“Grady’s family is out there,” Nessa said. “Have you asked them?”

“I can’t let Grady know where I’m going. He’s going to sue me for fraud. I shouldn’t be calling you, but I don’t know anyone else to turn to who won’t turn me in.”

“How do you know I won’t turn you in?” Nessa asked.

“I want you to be my therapist. Client confidentiality,” Linx replied. “You told me that I could call you. I need your help.”

“Then come to my office and we can talk.”

“I can’t do that.” Linx hung up the phone and started up her Durango. Less than an hour later, she entered Nevada and headed north toward Montana where the forest service had a large firefighting base camp.

* * *

Grady hiked the last mile down the creek to the abandoned artist’s cabin Becca described. The trail in front of him looked undisturbed, and Sam, who walked at his side, didn’t seem to be excited about tracking Cedar—the closest dog he had for a girlfriend. Not that they got it on, since both had been fixed, but they enjoyed playing together.

Grady stopped when he spotted the tiny cabin. It was little larger than a storage shed and the roof was covered with pine needles.

“Cedar?” he called half-heartedly. “Linx?”

The place looked deserted, but he hadn’t come so far to not take a look. Maybe Linx’s mother left tools behind, or unfinished work. Or this was the place she used to assemble her horrid metal sculptures.

Sam sniffed the trail and picked up speed as they approached the cabin. He definitely picked up something interesting, although it could be a squirrel.

Someone had been by, and it could have been Linx. He rushed to the door. It was unlocked and opened easily.

He turned on the light and peered into the dimly lit space. An old easel was stacked along one wall and pieces of scrap metal lay in a heap in the back.

Grady swept aside cobwebs and stepped through the door. Sam sniffed the corners of the cabin and appeared disinterested.

“Think she sent me on a wild goose chase.” Grady rubbed Sam’s neck. “Nothing to see here.”

He examined the artist’s sink which was bone dry, and kicked the mattress lying on the floor. A tangle of metal was piled behind the easel. The windows were so dirty no one could see out or in, and from the tiny droppings in the corner, the only residents appeared to be mice.

There was, however, a sour smell, as if vagrants had sought shelter inside. But who would pass through this remote ranch out in the middle of nowhere?

Grady walked by a covered trash container right outside the doorway. He opened it and recoiled at the sight of charred bones among a pile of ashes.

Human or animal?

Salem Pryde?

But no, it couldn’t be. No one had found her remains. These could be a rack of ribs for all he knew.

He let the lid slam over the trash container, then using his sleeve, he wiped his prints off the handle.

“This is stupid. Probably a barbecue dinner. Someone had a picnic here,” he muttered to himself as Sam sniffed the container. “Come on, let’s go. Linx isn’t here.”

He dragged Sam’s collar and walked as fast as he could away from the artist’s cabin. Maybe he was creeped out by the bones, or it was the dank breeze wrapping itself around him, but Grady’s spine tingled as if someone were watching him.

As they stepped back onto the trail, Sam emitted a low growl, raising his hackles. Grady stumbled and stubbed his toe.

His jaw dropped and his heart pounded. He’d tripped over a row of rusted railroad spikes welded together in the shape of crosses.