Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

C HARLOTTE FELT GUILTY at how relieved she'd been when she'd returned to the ranch and Brand wasn't there. She knew she was avoiding the inevitable. She'd never thought of herself as a coward, but at this moment, she didn't feel strong enough to face all her sins. She had no idea what she would say to him anyway. That she was embarrassed surprised her. Facing her grown son and admitting the lie she'd let them all—especially Brand and his father—believe and live with seemed an unforgivable betrayal. Holden definitely thought so.

For years, she'd hated Holden for what he'd done to her, betraying her the way he had. Not just once, but over again. And now she'd done something despicable to her own son and his father. She'd lied, not just to them, but to herself. She'd thought better of herself, always having taken the moral high ground. Until she'd seen the way Holden had looked at her today. She hated to imagine the look her son would give her.

As badly as she wanted to wallow in her grief, her regret, her self-disgust, she refused to allow it. She reached for her phone. The plan had come to her after talking to Elaine. Back at the ranch, she'd seen herself as if staring into a mirror. She'd only been thinking of herself, her pain. She hadn't even a thought of anyone else, including Holden's ward, Holly Jo.

Shame heated her cheeks, burned at her soul. A child was missing. She called her ranch manager and asked him to come up to the house.

Boyle Wilson had sounded both surprised and pleased at her request. Most of the time, if she had anything to say to him, she did it out at the stables.

Answering his knock, she opened the door. He pulled off his Western straw hat, wiped his boots on the mat and stepped in. His head under his hat revealed pale scalp beneath his receding hairline in sharp contrast to the deep tan of his face. Farmer's tan, Oakley called it.

Boyle wasn't bad to look at, but there was something in his eyes that had warned her years ago as a girl that he wasn't to be trusted. She would have sacked him when she took over the ranch after her first husband died, but unfortunately, Boyle knew too much, as if he'd been listening outside their doors his whole life. Maybe he didn't know where all the bodies were buried, so to speak, but he knew enough. Still, there were days when she'd fantasized about sending him down the road and letting him do his worst.

"You need me?" he said, a smirk teasing up one side of his mouth.

Charlotte quickly divested him of any thought that this was personal. "I want you to have everyone search every building on the property for a missing girl. Her name is Holly Jo. She's about twelve, thirteen."

Boyle's expression flashed disappointment, then anger. "I'm a ranch manager, not a babysitter for Holden McKenna's kid he says isn't his. Why would you think she's on our property?" he demanded. "You wouldn't be behind this, would you?" He gave her a wink that turned her stomach.

He'd never made it a secret that he had designs on her, which only proved how delusional he was about their relationship. He really did seem to think he knew enough about her and the family that he had job security for life—if not next husband material. She thought how shocked he'd be if he ever tried out that theory in the form of open blackmail.

"I want you to go with our men and make sure that every building is thoroughly searched," she said, as if he hadn't spoken, let alone accused her of kidnapping the child. "I'm depending on you, Boyle." Her last words made him stand up a little taller. "Which means I'm also holding you responsible should you miss one building that happens to have the child in it. I'm going to get other ranchers to do the same. If that girl is still in the Powder River Basin, she would be hidden somewhere away from people. I want her found."

Boyle smirked. "So, I was right. This is about you trying to get in good with Holden McKenna."

She wanted to slap that smirk off his face. "Maybe you didn't hear. Brand was taken into custody as a suspect in the girl's disappearance. I want to make sure no one hid that child on my property." Charlotte met his gaze, daring him to say anything more about Holden, let alone Brand. "That girl is out there somewhere. Only a monster wouldn't want to find her."

He had the good sense to look chastised. If he didn't know that Brand was Holden's son, he would soon enough. It would be the talk of the bar Boyle patronized in town. He stuffed his hat back on his head. "I should get on it, then."

"I'll be offering a reward for the person who finds her alive," Charlotte said as the idea came to her. "Ten thousand dollars." His eyes widened with surprise and a flash of greed. "Get the word out."

A S H OLDEN HAD driven away from Lottie, his heart breaking, a memory nudged him hard. Him and Lottie, the two of them at their favorite spot at the creek.

Earlier he couldn't remember, but now he saw it all. It had been a couple of years before he'd married Margie. He and Lottie had been young lovers, both assuming they would marry. But his father had other ideas. Holden had been given an impossible choice. Either marry Margie Smith, the daughter of another neighboring rancher with some property his father wanted, or walk away from the ranch without a penny.

"Without a ranch or any money, we'll see if Charlotte still wants you," his father had said.

Holden had feared his father was right. He'd buckled under the pressure and married Margie. He never told Lottie why. Not that it would have made a difference. She'd never forgiven him—just as he'd never forgiven himself.

But he hadn't been able to get over her. Nor had he been able to stay away from her. With only a creek between their properties, it was too easy to see her. Like the day they must have conceived Brand. After making love, he had left Lottie feeling guilty and ashamed, and yet he couldn't stay with her any more than he could stay away from her. He'd told himself on the way back to the ranch that he couldn't do this any longer. He was going to tell Margie the truth.

That day at the creek, Lottie had wanted him as desperately as he had her. They'd made love, madly and passionately in the grass at the edge of the water—just as they had as teenagers. Afterward... He recalled what he'd told her, because like a lot of his mistakes in life, after seeing her today, he now remembered it only too well. He'd said to her that he was going back to the ranch and telling Margie that he was leaving her.

Lottie had cried, promising to tell her husband, and they'd held each other. They were finally going to be together, come hell or high water. Neither considered the consequences of such a decision. All they could think about was being together.

He remembered how happy Lottie had been. They planned to meet back at the creek the next day. Holden groaned now at the memory. He'd returned to the ranch to tell Margie. She was busy with Treyton, the son they'd had right away. Treyton had never been an easy child, colicky as an infant, irritable and difficult as a toddler.

Charlotte had married Rake Stafford, a man seventeen years her senior, soon after he and Margie had wed. Like Holden and Margie, Charlotte and Rake had also produced a son, Chisum Jase, CJ. Both boys were going through the terrible twos.

Holden remembered feeling guilty about leaving Margie to raise Treyton alone. He swore he'd do what he could to help her, but he had to be with Lottie.

Unfortunately, when he'd reached home that day, she had her own news. She was pregnant. Her father and his own were at the house, everyone celebrating. Margie's father was in such a celebratory mood that he was giving them more of the Smith Ranch. Holden's father couldn't have been happier to hear that.

Holden hadn't been able to tell Margie he was leaving because he'd known then that he couldn't. He felt trapped. The next day, he didn't show up at the creek to meet Lottie as he'd promised. He was too ashamed because he couldn't go through with leaving Margie.

She had been so excited about the baby. None of this had been Margie's fault, he'd told himself. Worse, he'd been a coward. No wonder Lottie hadn't told him that Brand was his when she realized that she was pregnant. No wonder she's never been able to forgive me. What he'd done to her and Margie had been unforgivable.

No wonder he'd thought Charlotte might be behind the kidnapping, even as he'd felt guilty for thinking it.

A FTER TALKING WITH T REYTON , Stuart stopped by the McKenna house to see Holden. He'd been upset when his deputy had called to say that the rancher had left the house and had only just returned.

"What if the kidnapper had called?" Stuart demanded once he and Holden were alone in the man's office.

"Elaine would have handled it," the rancher said. "She would probably have done a better job anyway."

Stuart could only shake his head. "Holden, what could have been more important than talking to the kidnapper and finding Holly Jo?"

"I had something I needed to take care of" was all he said.

Stuart could well imagine. The rancher had gone to see Charlotte about Brand. He let it go, still riled up about Lulabelle and why she'd said what she had about his mother. Talking to Treyton had left him even more keyed up.

He studied Holden for a moment, finally seeing how much worse the man looked. Holly Jo's kidnapping and the shock of Brand's parentage were taking a hard toll on the man. Stuart couldn't help feeling sympathetic. He'd made his own share of mistakes. Some had come back to haunt him. One had almost killed him. He had no right to judge.

"Do you know where Treyton is living?" he asked, reminding himself what was at stake. A young girl's life. "I thought I heard he'd bought some property?"

"He did." Holden's eyes widened. "You think he has Holly Jo?"

Did he? "I don't know." He thought about a raid on the place if Holly Jo wasn't found soon, but his suspicions lacked evidence of wrongdoing. He didn't like Treyton, he didn't trust him, and he figured the eldest McKenna was up to no good, but he couldn't see him taking the girl, could he?

The truth was that he didn't feel any closer to finding Holly Jo. He'd interviewed everyone on Holden's list and had come up with nothing. Holly Jo had been missing for almost twelve long hours. He feared the kidnapper wasn't going to contact them again. The ransom note hadn't said anything about not involving the local law, which surprised him. But he worried his involvement might be what was holding things up.

Or the kidnapper could have changed his mind, had second thoughts, regretted what he'd done. Which meant he would release Holly Jo. Or kill her.

The FBI tech had already warned them that the call might be hard to trace. A call coming from a landline could be traced immediately with the new technology, the tech had explained to Holden. Even a cell phone. "What about the new burner or drop phones, the kind used only once?" Stuart had asked.

"That becomes more difficult to trace. When the number isn't associated with the person we're looking for, we have to triangulate their position off of cell phone towers," he said. "Unfortunately, Montana does not have good cell reception. Roughly sixty-seven thousand square miles have limited access to cellular data. The state has less than three hundred cell towers—but even fewer in your part of the state because of the sparse population of Eastern Montana."

When the call came through on the ranch landline twenty minutes later, Stuart realized they'd all given up hope. No wonder they were startled when the phone finally rang and it was the kidnapper. "We need to clear everyone out of the room except Holden." The sheriff had already given the rancher a script to follow, telling him exactly what to say with the help of the FBI.

The landline rang again. Stuart informed the technician. Holden took the call. The voice on the other end was obviously disguised, making it impossible to tell whether it was a man or a woman. Without preamble, the kidnapper began to read from his own script.

"You will notify news media and hold the announcement at the ranch. It will be televised as well as announced on the radio. You will admit what you did. You have twenty-four hours. If you don't do this, you will never see the girl again."

Stuart nodded to Holden to say what he'd been instructed.

"I'm going to need proof that you have Holly Jo and that she is okay."

"What do you want? A toe? Or maybe a finger?"

"I wouldn't suggest that," Holden said, going off script. "Not if you want to keep breathing." The sheriff shook his head fiercely at him.

"You would dare threaten me?" The fury in the kidnapper's voice turned Stuart's blood to ice. He motioned to Holden to fix this.

"I need to know that Holly Jo is all right," the rancher said. "She's just a child." This time his voice cracked with emotion, although he appeared to be gritting his teeth. The sheriff worried that Holden couldn't take much more without alienating the kidnapper. The rancher's free hand was fisted at his side.

Stuart pointed to the script he'd given him. Holden said, "I need a photo of her with today's paper to prove that she is all right."

The laugh was eerie and frightening. "And where would I get a newspaper?"

"I'll give you my cell phone number." He read it off. "You can send me a photo from your phone that shows today's date."

Silence, then finally, "If you don't go public within the twenty-four hours after you get the photo, you know what happens." The kidnapper was gone.

"Did you get him?" Stuart asked when he contacted the technician.

"Tried to triangulate, didn't have much luck. All I can tell you is that he or she is still in the Powder River Basin. Used a burner phone. But should be able to send a photo on it that will show the date." Stuart hung up.

"I'm sorry," Holden said to him, clearly still furious. "That bastard has Holly Jo and is putting us all through hell. That son of a bitch is going to pay."

"I can see how hard this is," the sheriff said. "But the object is to get Holly Jo back, and then we'll deal with the kidnapper."

"The kidnapper's right. Where would he get a newspaper if he has Holly Jo somewhere around here?" Elaine said. "Printed newspapers are scarcer than hen's teeth nowadays. With luck, he might be able to find a Billings Gazette , but wouldn't be able to buy a recent one in Powder Crossing."

"Which is the good news," Stuart said. "It could mean that the kidnapper has Holly Jo somewhere close—and he knows the area."

The sheriff told himself that if Holly Jo was all right, they should be getting a photo of her soon. Otherwise... He refused to think of otherwise.