Trumped Up Charges

Chapter Eight



Hadley looked anxious and uneasy, as if she were afraid that the next step might send her flying over a cliff. Or like she was about to confess a cardinal sin. All of a sudden, Adam wasn’t sure he wanted to hear more.

“You don’t have to say more.”

“Actually, I do. I should have found a way to get word to you years ago, Adam.” Her voice broke and she turned away from him. “Lila and Lacy are your daughters. I was pregnant before you shipped out.”

Adam heard the words, but it took all his powers of concentration to make them sink in. “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. They couldn’t be anyone else’s. I hadn’t had sex with anyone but you for over eighteen months before I conceived. I haven’t been with another man since you.”

“But the marriage...”

“Was a sham,” making a statement of his question. “It was never consummated.”

All the months he’d lain in that hospital, agonizing over her making love to another man, all the long nights when he’d survived on bitterness that she could forget him so easily.

Had she been clinging to the love they’d shared, resenting him, feeling betrayed as he had? But he could have never married someone else.

“Why didn’t you tell me I was going to be a father? Why didn’t you give me a chance to do right by you?”

“Don’t turn this all around to me, Adam. I laughed and cried for joy when my pregnancy test came back positive. We were going to be married. We’d have each other and a head start on the big family I’ve always wanted. I couldn’t wait to be a family.”

“But you didn’t even send me an email.”

“No, I wanted to wait until I saw the doctor and was sure. The day he confirmed what I already knew, I got your letter. You’d met someone else.”

Only he hadn’t met another woman. He’d met an ambush. He’d become damaged goods. He couldn’t move his legs and the doctors weren’t sure he would ever walk again. Worse, he was still only half a man. He couldn’t saddle Hadley with that. And he couldn’t abide her staying with him out of pity.

Life was a bitch, especially for an injured warrior.

“I have two daughters,” he said, his mind still struggling with that fact. And now they were missing.

“Suppose I hadn’t shown up at your door yesterday,” he questioned. “Would you have tried to find me and let me know that my daughters were in danger?”

“I don’t know, Adam. I honestly don’t know. I was shocked to see you. I didn’t even know you were back in Dallas.”

“I haven’t been here long.” But he’d been with her for over twenty-four hours. “Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Is it because you don’t trust me?”

“I think it’s more that I didn’t trust myself.”

“And now?”

“I trust you to help find the girls, but that doesn’t bridge the gulf between us. I don’t really know you anymore. You don’t know me. We both have new lives. We’ve moved on.”

Only he hadn’t, or at least his heart hadn’t.

“Are you married?” Hadley asked.

“No. The military lifestyle doesn’t foster long-term commitments.”

“So it appears. But don’t worry. I’m not planning on cramping your style. You can walk away when this is over. I can take care of the girls on my own.”

Which would make him the same kind of father R.J. had been. Throw a little money in the pot to help support your children and then give them a call and invite them out for a beer when you know you won’t live long enough to get to really know them.

He’d be damned if he let that happen.

“I’d like to be a part of their lives,” he said.

He meant that, even if it involved staying in touch with Hadley. Even if it meant a constant ache to hold her in his arms and take her to his bed knowing that he could never satisfy her.

“We’ll work something out,” she said. “When this is over and the girls are safe at home with me.”

Sadness crept into her voice where only fear and anxiety had been before. It cut him like a knife slicing into old wounds.

“Let’s get out of here, Adam. I can’t deal with this right now. And I’ve basically said it all.”

His phone rang as they started back to the truck. “Hello, Fred. Welcome to Dallas. And not a minute too soon.”

Adam caught Fred up to speed on the video and gave him directions to the ranch. It’d be best for Adam and Hadley to beat him there so that Adam could let R.J. know he was about to get a lot more family trouble than he’d bargained for.

* * *

ADAM STOPPED AT the metal gate and the rusty metal sign that announced they were at the Dry Gulch Ranch. “This is it,” he said.

“Where’s the house?” Hadley asked.

“About a quarter of a mile down that dirt road you see in front of you.”

“I’m not sure our coming here was the best option.”

“I don’t see any media blocking the road.”

“Give them time,” Hadley said.

Time was the one thing they didn’t have much of—time and money. At least not five million dollars. He was eager to hear Fred’s plan for how to handle the ransom exchange without the cold, hard cash.

Hadley opened her door. “I’ll get the gate.”

He drove over the cattle guard and she closed and latched the gate and jumped back into the truck.

“What’s the ranch house like?”

He had a feeling she was making conversation, but that was okay with him and better than the awkward silence that had held most of the way to the ranch.

“It’s your typical hundred-year-old raised cottage gone wild,” he said. “It’s been added on to so many times that it rambles like a patch of poison ivy that can’t decide which direction to spread.”

“In that case it should be large enough that we won’t inconvenience your father. Does he live there alone?”

“As far as I know. There was no mention of a wife the other day—at least not a current wife.”

“How many times has he been married?”

“I’m not sure. According to my mother he changes wives and family more often than she changes the sheets. Mother has been known to exaggerate.”

Hadley stared out the side window. “I see lots of barbed-wire fencing, but I don’t see any cattle.”

“They’re around somewhere.” Adam pulled up in front of the old ranch house where he’d spent the first four years of his life. There was a black pickup truck parked in front of the house. If R.J. was there, he should have heard them drive up.

Adam climbed the stairs with Hadley at his side. He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and rang the bell. No one answered. No one answered on the second ring or the third ring, either.

He tried the door. It wasn’t locked. R.J. didn’t seem the type to stand on formality, so Adam opened the door and walked in.

It felt a hell of a lot like he’d just entered the enemy camp.

* * *

MATILDA TOOK THE last pan of chocolate chip cookies from the oven and set the hot baking sheet on the cooling rack. She was in no mood for baking, but once she’d started preparing the dough, the familiar rhythm had a calming effect on her that let her think more clearly.

She knew exactly what she had to do. She’d preached the importance of truthfulness to Alana and Sam all their lives. Now she had to admit to them that she hadn’t practiced what she’d preached.

The uncle they’d practically worshipped wasn’t dead as she’d told them. He was alive and about to be arrested and possibly locked away for the rest of his life.

She’d explained everything to Detective Lane this morning. The faked death, the missing key, the recent visit from Quinton. And then she’d given him the names of the thugs Quinton had hung out with before he left Dallas. Once the web of lies had started to unravel, it was as if a staggering weight had lifted from her heart.

Her conscience was clear. But for the first time in her life, she was actually afraid of her brother.

Even though Quinton was six years younger than she was, he’d been the one to run interference for her when she was a young, skinny teenager.

Her little brother had thrown himself between her and her drunken father when he’d come at her with his belt for not having the house clean enough or not having his clothes washed or his dinner on the table. More than once, he’d ended up taking the beating that had been meant for her.

But by the time he was sixteen, Quinton didn’t take a beating from anyone. And nobody crossed him without paying for it.

Matilda had crossed him today.

Alana strolled into the kitchen and pulled the earphones from her ears. “Sam said you wanted to talk to both of us. What’s that about?”

“Go get your brother and I’ll tell you over cookies and milk.”

“Cookies and milk? We’re not six, you know?”

“Too bad. You weren’t nearly so sassy then. Go get Sam.”

Alana tangled the ends of her long brown hair with her fingers. “It’s about the kidnapping, isn’t it?”

“Just go get your brother.”

“First, tell me they’re not dead. Tell me that creepy jerk that stole them didn’t kill them.”

“They haven’t been found and there’s no evidence they’ve been killed. Now go and get you brother and I’ll tell both what’s going on with the investigation.”

Alana returned a few minutes later with Sam. He grabbed a warm cookie and stuffed most of it in his mouth.

“Any luck with the job interview?” she asked, as she poured three glasses of milk.

“I didn’t go.”

“Why not? I thought you were supposed to talk to the manager right after your class.”

“Because I’m not gonna spend my life stocking groceries.” He finished that cookie and grabbed another.

“A part-time summer job is not exactly your whole life.”

“It’s not like I’m hanging around here all day doing nothing. I made forty dollars last week putting up new drapes for your boss. Man, those things were ugly. And summer school wastes half my day.”

As if having to attend summer school wasn’t his fault for skipping the class so many times that he had to repeat it before they awarded him his high school diploma.

Sam straddled a chair and grabbed another cookie. “So what’s up?”

“It’s about the kidnapping,” Alana said.

Sam groaned. “Not that again. What’s the big deal? Janice O’Sullivan is filthy rich. She’ll pay the ransom for her granddaughters and never even miss the money.”

“It’s not about the money,” Alana argued.

He grabbed another cookie. “It’s always about the money.”

“That’s enough,” Matilda said. “Will you both please just let me say what I need to say—without interruption?”

They both stared at her as if she’d spouted a giant wart in the middle of her forehead. They weren’t used to seeing her rattled and irritable. She counted to ten silently, determined to at least sound in control.

“There’s been a development in the case that I think you should both be aware of,” she said. “I hate having to tell you this, but...”

Adam slammed his half-empty glass to the table. “Don’t tell me the cops think you had anything to do with it.”

“No, but they do have a suspect.”

Alana clapped her hands twice. “Thank goodness. I bet it’s that Adam guy they talked about on the news. He didn’t want to have to put up with another man’s kids so he just got rid of them. My friend Karen thinks the same thing.”

“Don’t rush to judgment. The truth is...”

The doorbell rang.

Sam jumped up to get it.

“Let me,” Matilda said. “Both of you stay put. It’s probably Leone from next door. I’ll get rid of her.”

Lost in her thoughts, Matilda foolishly opened the door without looking through the peephole first.

“Hello, sis. Why is it you don’t look glad to see me?”

Panic choked her. She gulped in a breath of air. “You shouldn’t be here, Quinton.”

“Why not? You’ve made no secret of the fact that I’m back in town.” He sniffed. “Is that fresh-baked cookies I smell? If it is, I know a couple of little girls who’d love a taste of those.”