The minute they returned from lunch, Gabe knew something was amiss. First off, their pickax was gone. At least he’d had the forethought to stash the metal detector in the back of his SUV before they’d left. Not that the middle of nowhere was a high crime area, but the piece of equipment was a rental, and he was careful with other people’s tools.
“It was probably Harper, or one of the McCreedy boys,” Raylene said. “They’re the only ones around here, since I doubt Flynn Barlow or Gia would’ve taken it. More than likely the kids were out here playing or riding their horses.”
Gabe sincerely doubted it. The McCreedy kids were old enough to know better than to go onto private property and walk off with someone’s stuff.
“Stay here.”
Of course, Raylene ignored his instructions and tagged along as he walked the perimeter of their dig, looking for anything that would give him a clue as to who’d stolen the pick. But there was nothing.
He’d had a lengthy conversation with Rhys that morning about the tennis shoe that had turned up on his security camera footage. They were both of the opinion that it had a connection to Rhys’ trio. Too many coincidences, including the backpack found on Drew Matthews’ property. And then there was the fact that no local would’ve been skulking around L&G Security in the middle of the night.
“It’s just a pickax, Gabe, not an international incident. We still have the shovel and the trowel.”
He didn’t feel the need to share the information about the lurking strangers. Other than the missing pick, Gabe hadn’t heard any reports of thefts or vandalism. For all he knew they were a homeless family, looking for shelter anywhere they could find it.
“It just seems like a weird place for someone to walk off with your gardening tools.”
“Maybe an animal carried it away,” Raylene said, and he looked at her like she was nuts.
“Didn’t you grow up here? What kind animal runs off with someone’s pick? The only one I know is human.”
She laughed. “Once a bear took a six-pack from our ranch foreman’s cooler. Shit happens in these mountains.”
“Yep, shit happens.” He caught her around the waist, because he’d wanted to touch her since the moment he’d seen her standing in Annie’s kitchen, fixing his coffee. She had on another pair of her tight western jeans and those turquoise boots that revved his engine, her blond hair pulled through the back of a John Deere baseball cap. “Come on, Ray, let’s go home before it snows.”
“That’s exactly the reason we need to finish what we started. Otherwise, it’ll be twice as hard tomorrow when everything is frozen over.”
He pulled her in and rested his forehead against hers. “You’re assuming a lot, sweetheart.” Raylene was a kick in the ass, but he didn’t plan to spend Monday digging up holes. He could think of a number of other ways to entertain himself. Unfortunately, the first image that popped into his head was getting Raylene naked. No can do, asshole.
He reluctantly let go, and to temporarily appease her he got the metal detector and resumed the search. By twilight, they still hadn’t found any gold, not even another musket ball. He persuaded her to call it quits for the night and dropped her off at the farm with a promise to reconnoiter first thing Monday. He considered going in the house with her and having wedding leftovers, but decided the safer course of action was to take his horny self home.
On his way to Donner Road, he took a detour to the police station. Surprisingly, Connie was still at the front desk, talking on her cordless headset. She saluted him like she always did.
“You’re here late,” he said when she ended her call.
“I’ve got a shitty boss who’s a slave driver.”
Rhys came out of his office. “I heard that, Connie.”
Her lips curved up. The 9-1-1 operator and office manager was always smarting off to the chief, and the truth was Rhys enjoyed it. Despite his gruff exterior, Shepard was a pushover. Gabe only had to see him with his wife and kid to know that.
“Want to get a beer? As of now I’m officially off duty, and Maddy and Emma are in San Francisco. Big Breyer hotel meeting.”
“Yeah? A beer sounds good.” Gabe could use one.
Rhys turned to Connie. “You can go home now.”
“Gee, thanks. Don’t forget to feed Emma’s fish.” She turned off her computer, shrugged into a coat, and headed out.
“Fish?”
“Maddy got her a little tank. Anything new on our drifters?”
“That’s what I came in to talk to you about. It’s probably nothing, but Raylene and I were on her property today, looking for gold—long story—and when we came back from lunch a pickax was missing.”
Rhys zipped his jacket, grabbed a set of keys from a pegboard behind Connie’s desk, and they crossed the square to the Ponderosa. “You sure you didn’t just misplace it?”
Gabe shot him a look. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Don’t tell me you actually believe the gold story? Even when I was a kid we all knew it was bullshit. It was something Ray used to brag about when he wasn’t bragging about everything else. Let’s face it, if he’d believed it himself, he would’ve dug up the entire ranch looking for it.”
Gabe shrugged. “Raylene believes it.”
“And she dragooned you into doing the heavy lifting. I didn’t realize you were that hard up for female company.”
“Hey, I found this.” He dug the musket ball out of his pocket and showed it to Rhys.
Rhys rolled it around in his hand. “That’s all you’re going to find, but at least you’re keeping Raylene out of trouble until she leaves.”
The derision in Rhys’ voice bothered Gabe. He tried to tell himself that it was because Raylene was Logan’s flesh and blood, but the damned truth of it was he liked her. Yeah, she was a head trip, but she was also fun. And adventurous. And frankly, despite everyone’s opinion to the contrary, she seemed like a decent person. She even volunteered at a woman’s shelter, which, admittedly, had come as a shock to Gabe. She’d never struck him as the altruistic type.
Raylene had once told Logan that she was afraid of Butch. But Gabe had always assumed it was a pampered woman’s ploy to manipulate her half brother. Get him to help her move her crap out of the Denver house before Butch could claim it in the divorce. Maybe Gabe had misjudged. Maybe Butch used to knock her around. Just the thought of it made him sick to his stomach.
“Yep,” Gabe said, and left it at that. “Anyway, as ridiculous as it sounds, someone stole that pickax. It was there when we left and gone when we returned an hour later.”
They found two stools at the bar. The restaurant was quiet for a Sunday. There were a couple of TVs playing, but the sound had been turned down. And about half the tables were empty. Rhys flagged down the bartender at the other end of the bar and ordered them a Sierra Nevada.
“You think it’s our drifters?”
“Could be. I can’t imagine anyone else taking it. Besides the McCreedys and the Rodriguezes on one side and Flynn and Gia on the other, no one is around for miles. Raylene thought one of the kids might’ve been playing around with the stuff, but I don’t see it.”
Rhys shook his head. “Me neither. But I’ll call Clay just to make sure.” He fished his phone out of his pocket. “I’m texting Wyatt to tell him to cruise the back roads while he’s on duty tonight.”
Gabe nodded. “I’m sure it’s harmless, but Logan’s gonna be pissed about his pick disappearing.”
Rhys laughed. “I’m guessing he’ll be more pissed about the fact that someone was sneaking around your offices.”
Gabe took a slug of his beer. “It’s a good wake-up call. We’ve probably been more lax about security than we should. Besides the occasional meth house and cattle rustler, Nugget feels like Mayberry.”
“We get a fair share of crime, don’t kid yourself.” Rhys asked for a bowl of pub mix and swallowed a handful. “Dinner.”
Gabe picked through the bowl, snagging a couple of nuts. “Yep, dinner.”
* * * *
On the other side of town, Drew loaded the car to make the long drive to the Bay Area.
“We almost forgot your suit jacket.” Kristy held it folded over her arm as she locked the front door.
He’d persuaded her to stay longer and to ride home with him. While he’d spent the day with Harper, she’d holed up in the office working on her brief, popping out occasionally for a snack or drink. It had almost felt normal. Almost. But there were subtle ways in which he could feel them growing more distant. The way she bristled every time he touched her, the way she sat on the big reclining chair instead of next to him on the couch, and the way she retreated into herself. With the exception of dinner Saturday night, they’d hardly spoken all weekend.
Of course, he’d spent most of the day with Harper, listening to her chatter on endlessly the way thirteen-year-olds did, leaving no space for anyone else to get a word in edgewise. Slowly but surely, she was adapting to her new home, her new life, to him and to Emily. But even still, his daughter was as fragile as glass, trying to make sense of the loss of the people who’d stolen and loved her and a new beginning with her real parents who were no longer together. It was a lot for an adult to handle, let alone an adolescent.
“You ready to go?”
Kristy threw his jacket in the back seat and got up front. “Yep. Hopefully we won’t hit all the ski traffic on the way down.”
For as cold as it had been, they hadn’t gotten that much snow. But on a Sunday evening there was bound to be plenty of cars on the road. Lots of folks returning home from a weekend in the mountains.
“Keep your fingers crossed,” he said, and started the engine.
“What’s this about Harper wanting to ride?”
Harper had complained that Emily and Clay wouldn’t let her have a lesson from the woman who’d brought her home the other day after her spill from Ginger. Raylene was her name. Drew was surprised that Kristy had overheard the conversation, and even more surprised that she’d raised the topic. Of late, she’d become reticent when it came to Harper, afraid of overstepping her bounds. Drew wished she would play more of a role but hadn’t brought it up, not wanting to rock an already wobbly boat.
“This Raylene woman, who is apparently quite accomplished with horses, offered to help Harper. I don’t know all the details, but Emily and Clay have a problem with her.”
“A problem? What kind of problem?”
Drew chuckled. “Something about her screwing over one of their friends. It sounds like a lot of small-town Peyton Place crap, nothing I wanted to get involved with. In the five-minute contact I had with her she seemed nice enough.”
“So it’s not like she’s got a criminal record?” Kristy turned up the heat.
The forecast said snow, and Drew wanted to get to the pass before the roads got icy.
“Nothing like that.” He reached across the console and threaded his fingers through hers. “She doesn’t live in Nugget anymore and was only here for the wedding. She’s leaving soon, so it’s probably best that Harper doesn’t get attached to her anyway.”
“And how does Harper know her in the first place?”
Drew told Kristy about Harper’s unfortunate fall from Ginger and how Raylene had come to the rescue. He left out the part about Emily freaking out over Harper sneaking off with the horse. Kristy thought they were both too overprotective, but she hadn’t gone through the trauma of losing a child. It was a topic they steered clear of. There were so many subjects that they now tiptoed around that Drew had lost count.
“Harper appears to be very taken with the woman,” he said.
“Why do you think that is?”
Drew chuckled again. “I’m guessing partly because she looks like a teen idol. Kind of Daisy Duke meets Hayden Panettiere.”
Kristy cleared her throat. “Sounds like you were quite taken with her, too.”
“Jealous?” He patted her leg teasingly.
“Should I be?” She laughed.
It was the closest they’d come to being playful with each other since the police had found Hope at Christmastime. Drew found it encouraging.
“Nope. I’m a one-woman man.” He changed lanes to get out from behind a semitruck. “I also got the impression that Harper liked talking to her. The way she put it was, ‘Raylene doesn’t treat me like a freak or a victim.’” He supposed most people, nervous about saying the wrong thing, handled Harper with kid gloves.
“They had that much of a chance to talk? I thought you said she brought Harper right home.”
“Yeah.” Drew nodded. “But then Harper saw her again at the wedding. Clearly, the woman has made a big impression.”
“How soon is she leaving? It seems silly not to let Harper take a lesson. What harm could it do?”
“That was my thought, but Emily’s pretty adamant about it.”
Kristy turned to stare out the window.
“Kris? What’s on your mind?” He didn’t have to ask, really. Emily had become another one of their off-limits topics.
She sighed. “You’re Harper’s father. Shouldn’t you also have a say in what’s right for your daughter?” She leaned her head against the seat and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know why I get involved. It’s between you and Emily, and that’s the problem, Drew. I’m not part of this. You want me to be, but every time I open my mouth, it’s Emily-this and Emily-that. She’s Harper’s mother, I get that. I get that I’m the interloper here. But it’s hard to sit back and watch you smother that beautiful little girl. What happened all those years ago was beyond monstrous. Your child was stolen from you. My God, Drew, it’s every parent’s nightmare. But the fact is, Harper had a good life. She was loved and cared for and raised like any normal child. I’m not giving her abductors a pass. What they did is unimaginable…and unforgivable. All I’m saying is that Harper is a well-adjusted girl. It’s her parents…” She paused, then went back to staring out the window.
“Go on and say it. It’s her parents who aren’t well-adjusted.”
“And how could you be after what the both of you went through? I understand that, Drew. I feel every drop of your pain. All I’m saying is, don’t transfer all that anguish to Harper. Don’t suffocate her; let her be a thirteen-year-old, and let her pick her own idols.”
In his heart, he knew she was right. But loosening up and letting go was easier said than done.
“I want to talk to you about something else,” she said, and he stiffened. The tone in her voice signaled the gravity of whatever she was about to say.
“I want to do another round of IVF,” she continued. “I know with the expense of the new house we really can’t afford it, but I was thinking we could take out a second mortgage on the Palo Alto house. We have plenty of equity, and we can put that bathroom remodel we were planning on hold.”
“I thought we already put it on hold to buy the Nugget house.” The truth was he didn’t want to do another round of IVF. He didn’t think he could live with Kristy’s disappointment. “Babe, you heard what the doctor said.”
“She said she couldn’t predict what would happen.”
“But as long as there was no remediable explanation for failure after three attempts, she didn’t recommend a fourth one.” The doctor had indeed made it clear that she no longer thought IVF was a viable option for them, but Drew wondered that it was his convenient excuse to stop trying.
“So we just give up? Is that what you’re saying?”
“No, what I’m saying is we go back to the old-fashioned method.”
“That hasn’t worked either,” she said with an edge in her voice. “I don’t care what Dr. Melly says. There’s new research showing that two-thirds of women who undergo six or more cycles of IVF get pregnant. It just came out, and it’s legitimate, not some fly-by-night study.”
He let out a breath of frustration. She spent hours trolling the Internet, reading whatever she could get her hands on. Research that said you could increase fertility by standing on your head, painting your headboard yellow, eating royal jelly, and drinking baboon urine. Drew had lost count of all the ways.
They hit a bottleneck in Sacramento, and he considered pulling off at the next exit and waiting out traffic at a restaurant. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and was hungry.
“You want to get dinner?” he asked.
“Is that your way of changing the subject?”
“No, it’s my way of asking if you want to eat.”
“I don’t want to eat; I want to finish our conversation.”
“Okay, you want to finish our conversation, here goes. I don’t want to do a fourth cycle of IVF, and I’m definitely not doing six. So if you don’t want to eat, we’ll drive.”
And they did, in silence.