Cowboy Conspiracy Page 6

Wyatt looked around the kitchen before making eye contact with Troy. “We have good reason for reservations.”

  “No one knows that better than me,” Troy said. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I should have never accepted your grandparents’ insistence that none of you wanted anything to do with me.”

  “Can’t undo what’s been done,” Wyatt said.

  “No, but we can move on from here. You’re part of this family, a big part. Every one of your brothers has gone to you for advice at one time or another over the last year and a half.”

  “Doing what’s right now doesn’t make up for letting them down years ago.”

  “Are we still talking about you, because as far as I know, you never failed anyone.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You’re absolutely right, Troy. I’m here because I’m a Ledger.”

  Troy. As if Wyatt wasn’t his son. It hurt, but he could understand his reluctance to call him dad.

  “Hopefully you’ll get to stay long enough that we can hash out the past and get to a better place,” Troy said.

  “That would be good.”

  “For all of us. And sometime while you’re here, I’d like to pick your brain.”

  “About what?”

  “My investigation into your mother’s murder. I’ve spent hours trying to put my finger on a viable suspect, but every time I think I’m making progress, I run up against a brick wall. The clues are like a math problem where the numbers change before I can solve the equation.”

  Wyatt straightened in his chair and turned to stare out the kitchen window. “I promise that I’ll make time to look at everything you’ve discovered.”

  The assurance sounded sincere, but Wyatt still seemed distracted. Troy had a good hunch that Kelly Burger and her stolen car had something to do with that.

  “Kelly and her daughter seem nice,” Troy baited. “Have you known her long?”

  “About four hours.” Wyatt took another sip of beer and then rocked the bottom of the bottle on the wooden table. “Kelly and I met earlier this evening at a truck stop café about forty miles from here. We’d both gone in to escape the worst of the storm.”

  “Smart move.”

  “It turned out to be an unfortunate move for Kelly.”

  “How’s that?”

  “There was just one other customer in the café,” Wyatt continued. “He left in the middle of the storm. About a half hour later when the rain had almost stopped, Kelly went outside and discovered the bastard had stolen her car. The vehicle he left in its place was stolen, as well.”

  “You were right to bring them here,” Troy said after Wyatt explained about the problems with Kelly’s house and with finding a room. “They can stay as long as they like, unless you have a problem with their being here. They won’t bother me and there’s plenty of room.”

  “It works for me, but I’m not sure Kelly will take you up on the offer. She’s spunky as hell and independent to a fault. But I figure I can at least help her get that tree off the house so that she can get an accurate estimate of the damage.”

  “Does she have insurance?” Troy asked.

  “I’m assuming she does. We didn’t talk about it.” Wyatt finished his beer. “There’s a lot we didn’t discuss. But we will.”

  There was that edge again.

  “Is there anything else about Kelly I should know?” Troy asked.

  “You know as much about her as I do.”

  Troy suspected that wasn’t quite the full truth. “She looked exhausted,” Troy said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already asleep, but in case she isn’t, there’s a fully stocked basket of guest toiletries on the top shelf of the hall closet. And there’s ham, cheese, bread and condiments if she wants a sandwich.”

  “I’ll let her know.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “No. I had a burger earlier.”

  “Be sure and tell Kelly that there’s milk for Jaci. Skim milk, however. That’s all the doc lets me drink since my heart attack.”

  “Dylan tells me that you’re back to doing almost everything on the ranch that you were doing before the attack.”

  “So far, so good.”

  “Good to hear.” Wyatt pushed back from the table. “It’s been a long day for me, too. We can talk more tomorrow, but I need to hit the sack now. Any bed will do.”

  “Kelly and Jaci are in the guest room that opens to the garden, but your old bedroom is available. There are clean sheets on the bed and fresh towels in all the bathrooms.”

  “Sounds as if you were expecting company.”

  “No, but Collette talked me into hiring a housekeeper. She was afraid that with all the work Dylan, Dakota and I have been putting in on the ranch, I’d let the house slide into a state of utter chaos.”

  Wyatt stood and looked around the spacious kitchen again. “Housekeeper must be working out. Things look good.”

  “Wait until you see the ranch.”

  “We’ll make plans for the five-dollar tour after breakfast,” Wyatt said. “What time is breakfast around here or is it every man for himself?”

  “I’ll be up with the sun. You’ll smell the coffee and hear the sizzle of turkey bacon shortly thereafter. But feel free to sleep as late as you like.”

  “Thanks. I probably won’t be eating on the early-bird shift. I haven’t had a lot of sleep the last couple of nights.”

  Wyatt stood, sauntered to the refrigerator and retrieved a second beer before walking away. Troy was tired himself but knew that sleep might be a long time in coming tonight.

  Wyatt’s homecoming was strained. That didn’t surprise him. Too many years had passed, years when Troy had existed as the imprisoned killer whose blood ran through his sons’ veins. Helene’s parents had made sure that was all any of his sons knew of Troy, and he’d done nothing to convince them otherwise.

  Troy spotted Wyatt standing near the hearth to the huge stone fireplace, staring at the spot where Helene’s body had been found. His jaw was clenched. His face was stretched into hard, drawn lines.

  Troy knew all too well the images that must be running roughshod through his mind.

  For Troy, having to walk by that spot every day had been the most difficult part of returning to the ranch. Even now, the images were so real at times that Troy would break out in a cold sweat.

  Troy ached to walk over and put an arm around Wyatt’s shoulder, tell him that he knew his young heart had been brutally ripped apart the day she’d been killed. He’d like to apologize for failing Wyatt and all his brothers in the days and months following Helene’s tragic death.

  But words were meaningless. Like his four other sons, Wyatt would make peace with the past in his own way, in his own time. At least Troy prayed that he would.

  That peace had never come for Troy. It wouldn’t until he found the man who’d killed Helene and stolen all their lives.

  THE GUEST ROOM WAS positively enchanting. Kelly felt as if she’d been dropped into the early nineteenth century, complete with the most charming bedside lamp she’d ever seen. The shade was handpainted with exquisite ruby-red roses. The frame was cast iron.

  A similar lamp sat atop a carved mahogany antique dresser with a beveled mirror. The four-poster bed was in the same rich wood. Having spent countless hours scouring New Orleans antique shops before Jaci was born, Kelly could tell that the bed was an original antique that had been restored and meticulously extended in size.

  Someone had spent many hours designing and furnishing this cozy sanctuary. She wondered if it had been Wyatt’s mother. If so, Kelly would love to know more about her.

  Had she been quiet and loving or filled with exuberance for life? Had she been happy here? Or had she longed to escape? Had she loved her husband? Had she feared him?

  Had he killed her?

  Coming home after nineteen years to the place where he’d known joy and such heartbreaking loss must be traumatic for Wyatt. And yet he’d kept that all inside, not showing the first signs of appre
hension until he’d driven through the Willow Creek Ranch gate.

  Yet with all that on his mind, he’d come to her rescue as if it were the most natural thing in the world to offer protection to a desperate woman and kid he’d never seen before.

  He’d been calm and steady, keeping his own feelings locked away inside while she’d had a meltdown. No wonder he’d offered to bring her home with him. He probably thought her incapable of taking care of herself or Jaci.

  Now she would be sleeping in the home of a man who’d been convicted of murdering his wife. She should be extremely wary. For some weird reason, she wasn’t. Instead, Troy had made her feel at ease and welcome, almost like family.

  Kelly considered the irony of that as she walked to the room’s double glass doors. The curtains were already pushed back, letting in a glimmer of light through the fogged-over glass.

  She released the latch and opened the door. A blast of icy wind slapped her in the face. She closed it quickly, and then used the palm of her hand to clear the condensation.

  She was rewarded by an amazing view. A large courtyard garden overflowing with lush plants interspersed with jewel-toned pansies, white narcissus and a couple of other winter blooming varieties she didn’t recognize. A lighted fountain provided a shimmery glow to the garden and tiny solar lights snuggled in the creeping ground cover along an uneven stone pathway.

  Enthralled in the peaceful beauty, Kelly was startled by a sudden chilly draft and the sensation that she and Jaci were not alone in the room. She spun around, expecting to see Troy or Wyatt at the door.

  But only Jaci was in the room and she was sound asleep, snuggled beneath the crisp white sheet and a hand-stitched blue-and-white quilt. Perhaps Kelly was a bit more apprehensive than she’d realized.

  The disturbing sensation passed and Kelly dropped to the side of the bed. The irritation with the car theft swelled again. She didn’t have so much as a toothbrush with her. Nothing to sleep in. No clean undies.

  Worst of all, Jaci’s favorite toys and books were in the missing car, leaving her with little familiar comforts to cling to during yet another period of upheaval. Thankfully, she’d dragged her favorite nearly bald doll into the café with her. Jaci would have been devastated had she lost that.

  Leaning back, Kelly kicked out of her shoes, pulled her feet onto the bed and let her head fall to the pillow. She’d get up, go to the bathroom and wash up in a few minutes. Tomorrow…

  She jerked to a sitting position at the sound of a light tapping on the door. It took a few bewildering seconds to realize where she was and that she’d fallen asleep with all her clothes on.

  She checked her watch for the time. Ten past eleven. She’d slept only a few minutes, though she was so out of it she could have easily slept through the night, clothes and all.

  Finger taming her hair, she hurried to open the door before whoever was there tapped again and woke up Jaci.

  “Did I wake you?” Wyatt asked, keeping his voice low.

  “I must have dozed off,” she whispered. “But Jaci hasn’t stirred since her head hit the pillow.”

  “I thought you might need these.”

  He handed her a basket stuffed with an assortment of items. Two new toothbrushes. Individual soaps, lotions, mouthwash and other hotel-size toiletries. There was even a mini folding plastic hairbrush, still in its cellophane wrap.

  She leaned against the door. “This is exactly what I need.”

  “Troy says there’s toothpaste in the bathroom, and there’s beer, milk and makings for sandwiches in the kitchen. Help yourself.”

  “Thanks.”

  “This is worn, but clean,” he said, handing her one of his cotton T-shirts that he’d had hanging over his arm. “We can shop for anything else you need after breakfast.”

  “You and Troy run one terrific homeless shelter, cowboy. Keep this up, and I’ll hate leaving. But I will be leaving in the morning, you know.”

  “What’s the hurry? You have nowhere to go. You left your life behind you a year ago.”

  Her heart plunged. Wyatt had done his homework. In a way she was relieved to have the truth out in the open. She was also irritated that he’d had her checked out so quickly by his police cronies.

  “That didn’t take long,” she whispered to keep from waking Jaci. “You’re obviously a good cop.”

  “Damn good. We need to talk.”

  Chapter Six

  Wyatt had debated with himself whether he should put this conversation off until morning. They’d both be rested then. He’d have had more time to think through the implications of getting involved in Kelly’s problems when she obviously didn’t want his help.

  But Jaci and Troy would be awake then and who knew what family might show up? This might be their best chance for privacy.

  Kelly stepped into the hall, pulling the bedroom door shut behind her. “I don’t want to wake Jaci.”

  “We can talk in the kitchen,” Wyatt said. “Troy’s already gone to bed.”

  Decades-old floorboards groaned beneath their steps as they maneuvered the dimly lit hallway that Wyatt had used as a raceway for his miniature cars and trucks a lifetime ago. Once, he and Sean had even brought toads inside the house to see which one could get from one end of the hallway to the other the fastest.

  His mother had stepped out of Dakota’s room with a load of laundry just as the toads reached the door. One of the toads had jumped on her foot and the laundry had gone flying, entangling the other toad in a pillowcase.

  Wyatt and Sean had doubled over in laughter. And then they and their toads had been ushered into the yard. But he’d overheard his parents laughing that night about the toad race.

  Wyatt had innocently expected the good times to go on forever, expected to be protected from evil and heartbreak. The same way Josh Whiting had expected that. The same way the cute little girl in the bed down the hall expected that.

  Kelly dropped into one of the kitchen chairs. “I guess this is as good a place as any for you to interrogate me.”

  “This isn’t an interrogation.”

  “It sure feels that way.”

  “Then I’m handling it wrong.”

  Kelly rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry about the finesse. Let’s just get this over with.”

  “What prompted you to move to Mustang Run?”

  “I inherited a house.”

  “Ten years ago.”

  Kelly locked her gaze with his. “I don’t like this game, Wyatt. What is it you heard about me?”

  “That you dropped off the face of the earth a little over a year ago and only recently resurfaced. That your last known employment was with a jewelry store that served as a money laundering front for Emanuel Leaky’s smuggling operations.”

  “And I’m sure you know the details of Emanuel’s conviction.”

  “Couldn’t turn on cable news, pick up a newspaper or turn on your computer without hearing about that trial,” Wyatt admitted. “I don’t remember hearing your name mentioned, though.”

  Kelly’s thumb absently traced the edge of the table. “So now you wonder which side of the equation I was on.”

  “That’s about it,” Wyatt admitted. “Knowing which way to watch for flying bullets is the best way I know to keep from getting blindsided.”

  “I’d like a glass of water,” she said.

  “You can have something stronger if you like.”

  “No, just water. I can get it.”

  She was up before Wyatt had a chance to push back from the table. He watched the sway of her narrow hips as she walked to the cabinet, pulled out a glass and filled it with cool water from the faucet. A wave of guilt washed over him. He’d invited her here for a respite. Now he was treating her like a suspect in one of his cases.

  This might seem like an interrogation to her, but it was starting to feel like harassment to him, and he was the one dishing it out. But he didn’t know a better way to get to the truth. If she was in danger, he couldn’t just stand by
and let her and Jaci face it alone.

  Kelly sat down again, a glass of water in hand, the condensation wetting her fingertips. “My involvement in this case is confidential, Wyatt. I was told—no, ordered—by the FBI not to talk about it with anyone outside the Bureau. I can’t imagine how you obtained your information so quickly.”

  “Were you in witness protection?”

  She nodded.

  “Yet you didn’t testify at the trial,” Wyatt said, trying to get his mind around the facts, or at least around Kelly’s version of the story.

  Kelly stopped hugging her water glass and used both hands to rake shiny locks of hair from her face. “Why is any of this important to you, Wyatt? All you have to do is drive me back into town tomorrow morning and then I’m out of your life for good.”

  Out of his life, but not necessarily out of danger. Squealing on Emanuel Leaky would be equated by most people to having a death wish. And if she’d provided any information that led to his conviction, she was likely on a hit list.

  “You may find this hard to believe coming from an ex-cop, Kelly, but I’m not trying to establish any wrongdoing on your part. If it were there, the FBI would have found it and you’d be in jail. I’m just trying to assure myself that I’m not tossing you and Jaci to the wolves when I drive you into town tomorrow.”

  She took another sip of water and then spread her hands out flat on the table. “This can’t go any further than this table, Wyatt. You have to promise me that.”

  “You have my word on that. Unless I find out you’re in danger. Then all bets are off.”

  “Can I depend on that?”

  “Scout’s honor.”

  “Were you a Boy Scout?”

  “No, but I can tie knots,” he said, trying to lighten the mood and end her hesitancy. He turned to check out a scraping sound, but it was just the wind whipping the branches of a tree against the metal gutters.

  “How did you get involved with Leaky?” Wyatt asked.

  “I didn’t know he owned the jewelry shop at the time I took the job. Luther Bonner interviewed and hired me.”

  And Luther Bonner had later turned state’s witness to save his own ass. Bets were on as to how long it would be before one of Emanuel’s paid assassins took him out. Even from prison, Emanuel wielded a large sphere of influence in the criminal world.