Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T HE CLOSER C HARLOTTE got to the turnoff to the McKenna Ranch, the more she began to question what she was doing. Did she dare just show up at Holden's door? With Holly Jo missing, there would be law enforcement officers there. She hadn't thought of that. He was waiting for word on the girl. She would be the last person he wanted to see.

She desperately wanted to talk to him, to explain. Maybe if she called and asked him to meet her at the creek... Immediately she rejected that idea. That place was too intimate, and after what had happened last time—not to mention what had happened there thirty-two years ago when they'd both been married to someone else—she didn't dare.

This had been a fool's errand. Holden had more important things on his mind than her or their son. Holly Jo was missing, believed kidnapped. What had she been thinking? Her timing couldn't have been worse. This wasn't the time to talk about the past—and Brand.

She had no idea what his reaction would be when he finally saw her. All the sheriff had said was that Holden had been surprised. He hadn't known. He apparently hadn't even suspected. Would he believe that she hadn't known?

Charlotte slowed on the county road, looking for a wide spot to turn around. Eventually she would have to talk to Holden about Brand, but now wasn't the right time to bring up old history, let alone old wounds.

And yet if he thought their son was the one who'd taken Holly Jo, didn't she need to assure him that it wasn't true?

Why would he believe her? She shook her head at her own foolishness. Ian was right. This had been a bad decision made by emotion instead of common sense.

She started to do a U-turn, but saw that she would have to wait for a pickup coming too fast up the county road. The truck was almost to her when she noticed that it was a McKenna Ranch truck, the logo on the side. Her heart jumped, her breath catching as the driver suddenly hit his brakes and swung in where she'd stopped.

Dust boiled up in a cloud as the pickup came to a stop, blocking her SUV from going anywhere. The cloud of dirt hadn't had time to settle before the driver threw open his door, leaped out and stalked toward her.

Heart in her throat, she watched Holden McKenna storm in her direction. One look at his expression and she felt sick. She'd never seen him this angry in all the years she'd known him. Hurt, disappointed, heartbroken, happy, sated and hopeful, but never looking like this. Nor did she have any doubt who had caused his fury.

A wiser woman might have locked her door. Or called the sheriff. She'd never been wise, she thought as she opened her door and stepped out, standing firm as he closed the distance between them. He came to an abrupt stop within feet of her as if worried what he would do if he got any closer.

"Charlotte." He said only the one word, but it conveyed everything. Not Lottie , the name he'd called her since they were kids. Just Charlotte in a tone that told her exactly how he felt even if she hadn't noticed his big hands balled into fists at his sides, his face a mask of pain and rage. "Where is Holly Jo? If I find out you—"

"No," she cried, meeting his gaze. What she saw made her flinch. Contempt, yes, but hatred ? "Of course I didn't take the girl. You can't believe that I would."

He didn't look convinced, but the blazing look in his eyes dimmed a little. "Why should I believe anything you say?"

She knew that they were now talking about their son's conception. "I didn't know. Not at first, and even when I suspected...I never did a paternity test." Because she'd known in her heart. She could admit that at least to herself now.

"But you knew that Brand had."

"No. I was shocked when I heard. He hadn't said a word to me. Still hasn't." Holden McKenna was a gentle, loving man who couldn't carry a grudge long, especially against her, she told herself. She felt some of his anger dissipate. "You remember what it was like back then." She said it like a plea. He unfisted one hand to reach up to rub the back of his neck.

She couldn't bear the pain she saw replace some of his anger. She took a step toward him as if her love for him outweighed everything else right now. "Holden—"

He stepped back, holding up his hands, warding her off.

She felt the pain of his rejection as if he'd slapped her. With a wave of shame, she knew how he'd felt all these years when she'd repeatedly pushed him away, unforgiving, angry and hurt. Vengeful.

He shook his head, his expression now one of sorrow. "Charlotte."

Their gazes locked again. She found herself desperately searching for his love for her, terrified she'd finally killed it with her bitterness.

He dragged his gaze away as he retreated another step from her, avoiding even looking in her direction. "I have to find Holly Jo."

"I'm so sorry. If there is anything I can do..."

He looked out at the river for a moment. "You should have told me."

"I know."

He turned to meet her eyes again. "If I'd thought that baby was mine—"

Charlotte had to swallow the lump that formed in her throat. Would he have walked away from Margie and his marriage? Could they have been together all these years?

The doctor had her go on the pill for a while after she'd had CJ. She'd only quit taking it a week or so before she'd run into Holden that day at the creek more than thirty-two years ago. She'd told him it was safe, not that in the state they'd been in that day either of them would have cared. They'd wanted each other so badly, needed each other so badly.

"If Brand has Holly Jo—"

"He doesn't," she said quickly. "He wouldn't do anything like that. He's...he's your son, Holden. He took after you more than me."

His face crumpled, his eyes shiny. He took another step back as if needing to get away from her. "I can't do this now. I'm not sure I'll ever..." He couldn't seem to finish as he turned and stalked away without looking back.

She felt the loss of him like a death as he climbed behind the wheel and drove away without a glance.

L ULABELLE B RADEN DI DN ' T seem surprised to see Sheriff Stuart Layton standing on her doorstep and said as much. "Someone in Powder Crossing farts and you seem to think I know about it," she said with a laugh.

After Holden's first wife, Margie, had died, he'd remarried quickly, apparently thinking his children needed a mother. Lulabelle Braden McKenna had put him through hell for over a year before he'd ended the marriage. Apparently he'd promised himself he wouldn't make that mistake again, because he hadn't remarried.

"You here to get your palm read, Sheriff?" Lulabelle asked.

"That's right—you know all about these things," he said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his tone. He didn't know why he was even here. Lulabelle seemed like a long shot, but what did he know? Holden had put her name down on his list, right under Charlotte's name.

She sighed. "Come on in."

"If you know so much, how about telling me where Holly Jo is?" he asked as he crossed the threshold and stopped.

She frowned as she turned to him. "That little girl Holden brought back pretending she was just someone he used to know's kid?" She shook her head. "He misplaced her?"

"You really haven't heard?" He actually thought maybe she hadn't.

"Why would I have? Holden McKenna and I are ancient history. He has boots he's had longer than he had me for a wife. How long's it been?"

"Not quite thirty years ago, and yet when his ward went missing, your name came up as someone he thought might have taken her."

She huffed. "That is so like Holden. He must feel guilty as hell about the way he treated me. Sorry, Sheriff, I haven't given Holden a second thought since I left the McKenna Ranch." That wasn't true, and they both knew it. "Even if I did have some residual feelings about the man and our marriage, I wouldn't take a child to get back at him. Not when I could make a voodoo doll and cause him all kinds of pain." She laughed, but he wasn't sure she was joking.

"I thought maybe you could use your sixth sense to tell me where she is."

"You really don't know anything about having a sixth sense, do you, Sheriff?"

"I wish I did," he said. "I thought maybe one of the people from down our way who come to you for your...help might have heard something about Holly Jo. I need to find her before it's too late." He feared it was already too late. The girl had been missing for more than ten hours. He could feel her slipping away, and he was no closer to finding her.

"You know I can't talk about what people tell me."

He raised a brow. "You're not a doctor or a lawyer or a priest."

"No, I'm much more than that. It's why people tell me things they don't tell their doctors or their lawyers—especially not their priests."

He could see that he wasn't getting anywhere with her. "Just thought maybe you could help." He started to turn back toward the door.

She grabbed his hand and closed her eyes. "You have nightmares about her."

He scoffed and pulled his hand free. "You don't have to be psychic to suspect that. My scars are still visible." He motioned to his arms and the pale white lines where Abigail Creed's knife blade had sliced open his skin as she'd attacked him. Normally, he kept his arms covered, but it had been warm enough this morning that he'd worn a short-sleeve uniform shirt and left his jacket in the patrol SUV. Now he regretted it, since he didn't need the reminder from well-meaning people of the horror he'd been through not long ago. She was right. He did still have nightmares about it sometimes.

"The nightmares must be terrifying," Lulabelle said sympathetically. "To see her standing over you holding a knife."

He corrected her. Abigail Creed hadn't been standing over him. She'd been in the driver's seat of her SUV when she'd drawn the knife from the pocket in the door and, screaming, begun stabbing him.

"I wasn't talking about Abigail Creed," Lulabelle said. "The dreams start out that way, but it isn't her face you see." He watched her eyes fill with tears. "What terrifies you is that it's your mother holding the knife."

C HARLOTTE LEANED AGAINST the side of the SUV as she watched Holden drive away with a finality that left her feeling pathetic and broken. For so many years, she'd never questioned his love. No matter how awful she'd been, he hadn't given up on her. Until now?

The thought filled her eyes with tears that quickly ran down her cheeks. She'd done this. She had only herself to blame. She'd kept Brand from him. She'd kept the truth from him. What if he never forgave her? After all these years of pushing him away, what if this was the end?

When he'd married Margie Smith instead of her, Charlotte had been devastated. She'd thought she would die from the pain. She felt that way again now as his pickup disappeared from view.

Opening the door, she crawled behind the wheel. Her hands were shaking. She put the SUV in gear, but didn't know where to go. Not home. Not back to that empty house. She'd pushed away everyone who loved her—even her own children. Tilly was now married to Cooper McKenna. She'd heard that he was building them a house on the McKenna Ranch. She'd also heard that Tilly might be pregnant.

Charlotte shook her head. Even if she was going to be a grandmother, it would be in name only after the way she'd treated her daughter and Cooper. CJ, the son most like her, would soon be going to trial and probably on to prison. Oakley... She shook her head again. Oakley was the daughter most like her, fiery and stubborn and so independent that she'd never needed her mother and certainly didn't now that she was married to Pickett Hanson.

All Charlotte had left were Brand and Ryder. The two of them never gave her any trouble, staying clear of her on the ranch, doing what needed to be done and having minimal contact with the rest of the family. That too was her fault.

And now this. How could Brand ever forgive her? He hadn't come to her after finding out the truth. Instead, he'd reached out to his father.

Realizing just how alone she was and how she'd brought it all on herself, Charlotte couldn't seem to move. She could drive into town, but there was no one there either. She'd alienated the community as well as her family—and especially Holden and his family—for years.

She'd once had a best friend. But then Margie Smith had betrayed her by marrying Holden. Charlotte knew intellectually that Margie was young. Her father and Holden's father put her in a position where she had little choice but to marry Holden. Still, Charlotte had never been able to forgive her for stealing her life—even when she'd learned years later that Margie was dying.

And here she was, just as Elaine had predicted, completely alone.

She reached for her cell phone. For a moment, she'd forgotten that she had one friend left in the world, the friendship no one knew about, but someone she could count on and vice versa. The line rang and was immediately picked up.

"Elaine," she said and burst into tears.

S TUART SWORE AS he left Miles City and headed back to Powder Crossing. He cursed himself for letting Lulabelle get to him. She'd enjoyed his shock and discomfort. Psychic powers. Who knew where she got that crap? He tried to forget it, hating that his reaction had been so telling. The whole incident had left him feeling vulnerable.

His father used to say no one could keep a secret in Powder Crossing. That, at least, Stuart believed. Lulabelle dealt with the bottom-feeders, people who enjoyed digging into other people's trash. Had Lulabelle heard something from one of them? Or had she just been fishing with what she'd said about his mother?

He knew he should put it behind him, but he couldn't help being upset. Did she pull these same stunts with other people who came to her looking for answers?

Or did she know more than he thought? Either way, he was still shaken, because she'd hit his most vulnerable sore spot. His mother.

His cell phone rang, dragging him out of his black mood at even the mention of his mother. It was Treyton McKenna, Holden's eldest son. "I need to talk to you," the sheriff said. Treyton was the next name on Holden's list. "Where are you?"

He got the surly answer he would expect from Treyton McKenna. "Why?"

"Have you talked to your father?"

"I've been busy. I don't live on the ranch anymore. I bought a place of my own. So I don't see the old man."

"A place of your own? I can come to you. What's the address?" Stuart heard the hesitation in Treyton's silence.

"I'm on my way into town."

He would have liked to see Treyton's place for a number of reasons. He had been suspicious of the man for some time now, especially after there'd been a meth lab in the area. Whoever was running it had burned down the place, destroying the evidence, before Stuart could bust it. CJ Stafford had definitely been involved, but although they were rivals because of their families, the sheriff suspected Treyton might have been involved. It was just a gut feeling since the lab had actually been in an abandoned ranch building on the McKenna Ranch.

Disappointed, he said, "Fine, my office. Twenty minutes?" He'd pay Treyton a visit sometime in the future and check out his new digs.

"Why don't you just tell me what this is about?"

"When I see you," Stuart said and disconnected as he turned on his siren and lights and raced toward Powder Crossing.

"C HARLOTTE ? C HARLOTTE ! Is it Holly Jo?"

The fear Charlotte heard in Elaine's voice made her choke off her sobs. "No. I'm sorry. I don't know anything about Holly Jo. I just saw Holden." Silence. "Oh, please, you aren't going to turn against me too, are you?"

"Of course not," Elaine said. "You just scared me. I was trying to catch my breath. I was so afraid... I heard about Brand being picked up by the law. I thought maybe you might know something."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called so upset. You all must be worried sick about Holly Jo."

"It's all right, Charlotte. You're sure Brand didn't take her?"

"Yes, I'm sure." She couldn't help but sound indignant. "They let him go. He had an alibi. He wouldn't do anything like that anyway." But she'd never thought he'd have his DNA tested and send Holden the results either. "Is there anything I can do?" She already knew the answer.

"No, but thank you for asking." Elaine had always been nicer to her than she deserved. Her friend was a better person than she was. Charlotte thought that Elaine should have gotten together with Holden years ago. They would have made a nice couple. Instead, Elaine had spent those years trying to get Charlotte to forgive, Margie first, then Holden.

"Let me know if you hear anything," Charlotte said. Elaine promised that she would, and they disconnected.

Feeling even worse for thinking only of herself when a child was missing, Charlotte shifted the SUV into gear and went home. She hoped Brand would be there. She wasn't sure what she would say to him when she did see him, though. There weren't really any words to explain the poor decisions she'd made in her fifty-three years.

Nor was she looking forward to the reactions of her other adult children when they heard the news. The way gossip traveled in the Powder River Basin, they had probably already heard. So as she walked in through the door of her house, she wasn't surprised to get a collect call from her son CJ, who was incarcerated in a cell in Billings.

She didn't take the call, already too aware of what he would have to say. Deserved or not, she couldn't take any more berating right now. She was sure she'd get enough of that from Brand once he decided to confront her.

Standing in the middle of her living room, the silence thick as fog around her, she knew that she could wallow in her pain like she usually did, or she could do something to help.

T REYTON M C K ENNA WAS slouched in a chair in Stuart's office when the sheriff walked in. He had Holden's dark hair and blue eyes in a face that could have been considered handsome if not for his bad-tempered disposition. He wore his usual sullen look as Stuart closed the office door, stepped past Treyton's extended legs and sat down behind his desk.

"When was the last time you saw Holly Jo?" he asked without preamble. He didn't like Treyton, never had, and wanted to spend as little time as possible in his company.

The question seemed to take the rancher's son by surprise. "Why?" Stuart waited, and Treyton finally frowned, seemed to think, then said, "A couple of weeks ago. I can't remember. Like I said, I don't live there anymore."

He knew that Treyton had moved out of the ranch house before his friend Cooper had returned from his honeymoon with Tilly Stafford, now McKenna. They were now both living at the house until theirs was finished on the ranch. Treyton's dislike for the Staffords was legendary.

A little surprised that Treyton hadn't heard that Holly Jo had been kidnapped, he knew it wouldn't be long before someone in town told him.

"Holly Jo's been kidnapped." He watched Treyton's face. It stayed sullen. Nothing registered in his blue eyes other than impatience.

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Did you kidnap her?"

Treyton blinked and sat up. " What? Why would I do that?"

"You're at odds with your father."

"That's nothing new."

The sheriff leaned forward, holding Treyton's gaze. "If you know where she is—"

The rancher's son was on his feet. "If my father really thinks I took that brat, then he is more senile than I thought." He shook his head. "I don't have time for this." He started for the door.

"I'm going to need the address of your new place," Stuart said.

"Better bring a warrant," Treyton said over his shoulder on the way out of the office.

"I'll let the Feds know to bring one," he called after him. They both knew he didn't have enough evidence to get a warrant. As he watched Treyton storm out, he couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't Holden's eldest son's doing, and he needed to move on to the next name on the list.