Unfortunately, he reminded himself, he was also avoiding his mother. He had no idea what he wanted to say to her—if anything. But by now, she could have heard about the DNA results.
That was enough to convince him to leave the house. Wouldn’t hurt to go into town and have some lunch. Wasn’t the café having the pulled pork sandwich special today? He realized that Birdie was probably staying in town, maybe at the hotel. Maybe she’d rented a place, intending to stay as long as it took to find her father’s killer.
Powder Crossing was so small, he was bound to run into her. He tried to scoff at the idea that Birdie could find evidence after all this time that would implicate his mother—let alone the person who’d helped her—if she was indeed guilty. While certainly capable of murder, Charlotte Stafford might be innocent. Brand had to believe that—even if no one else did.
Even though he’d just met the young woman, he was pretty sure that nothing could convince Birdie Malone she was wrong about his mother. Not that he had any intention of trying. It wasn’t like she’d found any proof that his mother was a killer, right?
At least not yet, he thought with a groan.
He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. Both the DNA fiasco and Birdie Malone’s threats would blow over. In the meantime, he would keep his head down and hope for the best.
It had been the way he’d survived growing up in this family. No reason to change now—even if he could.
“WHAT IS IT?” Holden demanded, clearly having the same trouble Stuart had understanding what was printed on the sheet of paper—at first.
“It’s DNA results,” Stuart said as he watched the rancher frown.
“I don’t understand.”
“It appears to be the DNA results for Brand Stafford and your son Cooper. Brand and Cooper share the same DNA.”
Holden’s eyes widened.
“Brand’s my son? That’s what this DNA report says?” Holden asked.
“It would indicate that, yes.”
A variety of emotions swept across the rancher’s face. Confusion. Shock. Disappointment. And finally, disbelief followed quickly by anger.
“It’s not possible.” But even as Holden said it, Stuart saw realization dawn before the rancher swore.
“You didn’t know,” the sheriff said, stating the obvious. “I have to ask. Do you think this could have something to do with Holly Jo?”
The rancher looked up and frowned. “What? I can’t see how one has anything to do with the other.”
Neither could Stuart. But the timing bothered him.
The rancher threw down the report. “She never told me. Why would Charlotte keep something like this from me?” He looked up. “How could I have not known?”
The sheriff’s cell phone rang. It was his office. Thinking it might be about Holly Jo, he took the call as Elaine returned with coffee for the two of them. He saw Holden pick up the DNA results again, fold the sheet and stuff the paper into his shirt pocket before accepting the cup of coffee. Elaine appeared to have sensed the tension in the room. She was studying Holden, looking even more worried.
Stuart watched the two of them as he listened to the dispatcher informing him that Joe Gardner was calling about a disturbance at his house on the Montgomery Ranch. He started to tell her to let a deputy handle it, when she mentioned it had something to do with Holly Jo and Duffy McKenna.
“Duffy?” Stuart said, making Holden look up expectantly. “That was Duffy I saw leaving on my way in, right?” he asked the rancher. All the McKenna offspring resembled each other, taking after their father.
The rancher nodded. “Duffy said some boy was giving Holly Jo a hard time at school. Gus Gardner.”
“Put Joe through,” the sheriff told the dispatcher. “Joe, what seems to be the problem?” he asked as he stepped out of the room. He listened for a few minutes, then said, “Put Duffy on the phone, please.”
An obviously angry Duffy McKenna came on the line. “Listen to me,” Stuart said, reminded of all the times Cooper’s kid brother had tagged along, just being a pain in their asses. “You apologize and get the hell out of there before I have to arrest you for interfering in this investigation.” Duffy started to argue. “Duffy, damn it, you have no idea what you’re doing. We need you back here at the ranch. Now.”
He disconnected and went back into Holden’s office. “Duffy’s on his way home. I’ll talk to him. If there appears to be some connection to Holly Jo’s abduction, I’ll talk to Joe’s son.”
CHAPTER FIVE
BIRDIE MALONE SPRAWLED on the hotel room bed in Powder Crossing, staring up at the ceiling. There were moments when she questioned what she was doing here. It hadn’t escaped her that her father’s murder was a very cold case after all these years. What evidence there might have been was long gone.
And if she was right about Charlotte Stafford killing him and getting someone to help her dispose of his body, then the woman would have covered her tracks. Why was Birdie wasting her time and her grandmother’s money here?
She’d been five when her father had left her and her mother. He’d come into her room late that night, crouched down next to her bed and taken her hand. She’d pretended to still be asleep, knowing he was leaving. She would cry and beg him not to go if she opened her eyes. She’d seen it coming after all the fighting with her mother, the woman he hadn’t loved enough to marry. He’d stayed for his daughter until it became impossible. Birdie had seen other men go through the same thing before and after her father.
It had broken her heart when he’d left. She’d seen how hard the decision had been for him as he told her how much he loved her and begged her to forgive him, but he couldn’t stay and he couldn’t take her with him just yet. She’d felt his tears as he’d bent to kiss her cheek and said goodbye, promising to come for her soon.
Her mother never mentioned his name again after that, other than to say Birdie had been a mistake that she had no intention of making again. Men had always come and gone in her mother’s life. One had stayed around and become her stepfather. He’d been kind and helped get her raised before he left, but it was Dixon Malone, her father, who’d always lived in her heart. When she was old enough, she took the Malone name, although her birth parents had never legally married.
Her grandmother on her father’s side had been the one constant in her life, even though she lived in Texas. Nana had seen that Birdie went to college and took judo lessons so she could defend herself. Nana had taught her to dream. Her grandmother knew how much she missed her father.
The last time Nana had visited, she’d told Birdie that she was leaving her money and wanted her to use it to find Dixon, her only son, her only child. “I know he promised to come back for you, Birdie. He wouldn’t have broken that promise unless something bad happened to him.”
She’d sworn she would find him.
“And when the time comes, find yourself a good man. They do exist, no matter what you saw growing up with your mother, not to speak ill of the dead. You’re too smart to follow in her footsteps. Remember that. And don’t be too hard on your father, no matter what you find out. I know how much he loves you.”
While she’d believed that her father wouldn’t have broken his promise to her unless something had happened to him, she’d done as he’d always wanted her to do. She’d gone to college, graduated, gotten a job and started her career in business administration.
She’d known in her heart that he had to be dead. Otherwise, he would have come for her as promised. Yet her promise to her grandmother nagged at her. She hired a PI who had no luck finding him. When her father’s body was found, she’d realized that if she wanted the truth, she was going to have to get it herself—and she couldn’t wait any longer. She had to find out what had happened to him—even if what she discovered broke her heart.
However, now that she was here, she had to question her decision. What had she hoped to find following Brand from the bar in town all the way out to the Stafford Ranch—let alone helping herself to a room in the house for the night? It had seemed like a good idea at the time—and if she hadn’t hung around this morning, she would have gotten away with it. No one would have been the wiser.
