The problem was that it hadn’t accomplished anything. Nothing she’d done so far was helping find evidence to bring her father’s killer to justice.
She groaned, refusing to let her doubts derail her. Instead, she thought of her promise to her grandmother and concentrated on what to do next. She had to find a place to rent if she was going to stay in Powder Crossing or she would eventually run out of money. The idea of giving up wasn’t in her.
“Sometimes you are exactly like your father,” her mother used to say. “Stubborn as a mule and just as hardheaded.”
She’d always liked to hear there were things about her that were like her father. He’d been her hero. She looked over at the photo on her bedside table. It was of the two of them, taken on her fifth birthday. Her grandmother had framed it for her. It and a jewelry box he’d given her were her most prized possessions.
Just the sight of them had made her mother furious. “How can you idolize that man?” she would scream. “He walked out on you as well as me. Stop thinking he’s coming back. He’s not. He’ll break your heart—just as he did mine.”
But he hadn’t. He’d never really left her. For the year after he’d moved out, he would stop by her school or catch her on the way home to hug her and tell her how much he loved her. He would bring her little treats, and they would talk. She’d known he was sorry about the way things had ended with her mother. She’d also known that things weren’t going well with the woman he’d married, Charlotte Stafford.
“I’m coming to get you soon,” he’d told her the last time she saw him. He’d shown up at school on her sixth birthday with a cupcake, candle and all. She’d told him how much she missed him, crying in his arms. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t live with your mother. I’m not sure she’s the best thing for you as a mother either. I know your grandmother is keeping an eye on you, so you’re safe until I can come get you.”
He’d told her all about the ranchwoman, her children and the grand house on a ranch where they all lived.
But that day he’d said no, her coming to the Stafford Ranch wasn’t going to work out. “Charlotte Stafford’s no more mother material than your mom and an even more questionable wife. I need to work out a few things. But trust me, we’ll be together soon, my little bird.” He’d given her the jewelry box that day, making her promise to keep it close always until they could be together again. She’d kept the promise. It too sat on the hotel bedside table next to her.
That was the last time she saw her father. Her mother told her that he’d run out on the woman he’d married. Left in the middle of the night just like he’d done her.
Birdie had waited day after day. He wouldn’t break his promise to her. He would be coming for her. After months went by, she’d known there could be only one explanation. Dixon Malone was dead.
Now everyone knew it. They even knew who’d killed him. All Birdie had to do was find a way to prove it.
She thought of Charlotte Stafford’s son Brand. He might be a way for her to get closer to his mother and the truth. She almost felt sorry for him. It wouldn’t be easy seeing his mother go to prison for murder, especially if he knew more than he was admitting.
Her stomach growled. She hadn’t had breakfast, and now it was past lunchtime. Sitting up, she put thoughts of the Staffords aside and headed for the café.
AT THE SOUND of a vehicle, Stuart and the others seemed to flinch. “It’s Duffy.” They all three looked toward the front door as if hoping Duffy would come through it with Holly Jo. There was a chance that Duffy had found her walking down the road. That the girl had cooked this all up but now realized her mistake.
It felt as if the air was sucked out of the room as Duffy stormed in alone. His face was flushed, anger wafting off him like a bad smell. “I’m telling you, that kid, Gus Gardner, he knows something. His father’s protecting him.”
“What is that?” Stuart asked, his gaze going to what Duffy had in his hand—a leather work glove folded over what appeared to be a plain white envelope, which he thrust at the sheriff.
“Where did you get this?” Stuart demanded as he pulled on his latex gloves and took the envelope.
“I saw our mailbox door was hanging open, so I stopped,” Duffy said. “I thought it might be from the kidnapper. I tried not to touch it any more than I had to.”
Stuart gritted his teeth, telling himself this wasn’t the time to get into it with Duffy, especially when he saw at once that the envelope looked much like the ransom one. But it also meant that his deputy hadn’t gotten out here to keep a watch on the mailbox yet. If he had, he might have seen the alleged kidnapper.
He carefully sliced open the envelope and pulled out the folded sheet of paper. It resembled the first note, the words cut from a glossy magazine.
What was different was the message.
Tell the Truth.
Or the Girl Pays.
For your Lies.
All the color drained from the rancher’s face as Stuart showed him the kidnapper’s demand. There was no doubt now. This was about Holden. He watched the big man lower himself into a chair and drop his face into his hands.
Just as Stuart had feared, the kidnapper had something on the rancher, and Holly Jo was now being used as a pawn. He turned to Elaine. “Did Holly Jo by any chance keep a diary?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her gaze on Holden. She looked as shocked and upset as he did.
“I searched her room, but would you mind looking?” Stuart said, needing to get both Elaine and Duffy out of the way. “Also, I’m going to need her computer brought down. If you don’t know what her password is, please try to find it in her room.” He turned to Duffy. “I need you to go into the dining room and write down everything about your confrontation with Gus Gardner. And please close the door behind you.”
Duffy saw through the pretense but left as if he too was shocked by either the ransom demand or his father’s reaction—or both.
With them gone, Stuart turned to Holden. “‘Tell the truth’? If you know who has taken Holly Jo, you need to tell me now.”
HOLDEN DIDN’T WANT to meet the sheriff’s gaze. He had feared this was about him, and now he knew it was. He’d brought this on his family. He was risking Holly Jo’s life, all because of something he’d done.
Tell the Truth.
Or the Girl Pays.
For your Lies.
His mind whirled, thoughts blowing past like trash in a strong wind.
“Holden, we need to find your ward as quickly as possible,” Stu said. “If this is someone from your past with a grudge, as it seems, then Holly Jo wasn’t abducted by a stranger or a possible online predator. The kidnapper is someone who isn’t demanding money but for you to tell the truth. That seems to suggest that the person won’t hurt Holly Jo, who is an innocent in all this. But we can’t chance that. If you know who has her, you have to tell me now.”
Did he? Who would take Holly Jo to force him to confess and apologize for something he did? He still felt it had to be about revenge.
He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to get his breathing under control, fighting to think clearly. There were so many truths, and even more lies. They blurred together in his mind. He’d rationalized so much of what he’d done over the years that he’d felt exonerated because no one had ever called him on it—except Charlotte.
But thinking he’d put it all behind him, that too had been a lie. He’d never truly been free of the people he had hurt. Hadn’t he always known that there would be a reckoning and he would have to make amends that might threaten everything he’d built?
