Her father wasn’t at his office when she knocked, and Kat made a sound of impatience as she pulled out her cell phone. Next door, Betty Ann’s was doing a thriving business, but the tinkling of the bell over the door grated on her. It damn well brought back her nausea, which pissed her off. Climbing back in the Jeep, she reversed quickly out of her parking spot. Beep! A horn blasted, and she slammed on the brakes and looked back. Blair Kincaid’s truck was right behind her, and he was sitting in the driver’s seat, staring at her through the windshield. He lifted his hands from the steering wheel and held his palms skyward in a “What gives?” gesture.
She gritted her teeth, shook her head, and drove off. She could feel the color creeping up her neck. Of course it had to be him. If she was pregnant it was his fault. Jesus. How had she gotten herself into this mess?
Alcohol. Lack of protection. One-night stand.
She drove to the edge of Prairie Creek to a fairly new chain drugstore. She’d been there once before and hadn’t recognized any of the employees, so she was hoping she would remain anonymous. She just didn’t need one of the town busybodies showing up, but most people she knew frequented Bomburn’s Pharmacy in downtown Prairie Creek.
Walking inside, she glanced at the girl behind the counter. A young woman who looked to be in her early twenties. She seemed faintly familiar, but Kat couldn’t place her. It was no one she knew well.
Feeling conspicuous, she walked down the aisle, waiting until a middle-aged woman who’d been examining the contents of some baby cream finally wandered away. Glancing around like a thief, she picked up the pregnancy kit, grabbing a two-pack just in case she needed further corroboration. Then she walked to the counter with a certain amount of trepidation. If she’d had the time, she would have driven to the next town, but she didn’t, and the need to know was killing her.
The girl had on a name tag. RHIANNA BYRD.
Oh. Lord. God. Help. The youngest Byrd daughter.
“Hi,” the girl greeted her with a smile as Kat placed the kit on the counter. She rang it up and asked, “Will that be all?”
“Yes, thanks.” Kat scrounged in her purse for cash. No way was she putting her credit card out there. She hoped to God Rhianna didn’t recognize her.
The girl took the money and handed her back her change. As Kat pushed back through the door, Rhianna’s voice called after her sweetly, “Have a nice day, Ms. Starr.”
Shit.
*
Fifteen minutes later, Kat was in the bathroom of her own home, staring at the two pink lines that had appeared on both tests. She tossed both sticks in the trash, washed her hands, and stared at herself in the mirror.
You can’t wash it away.
Her cell rang from where she’d left it on the bathroom counter. She looked at the number, saw it was her father. Less than an hour ago, she’d wanted to talk to him about Courtney Pearson and the barbed wire. Now she just wanted to crawl back in bed.
She debated about letting the call go to voice mail, but she growled under her breath in frustration, then answered, “Hi, Dad,” as she grabbed up her purse again and headed out. It was almost time to meet Ruth.
“I heard you stopped by to see me this morning,” he said. “I was over at the grave site, visiting your mom.”
Ah. Made sense. Patrick went through cyclical periods of going to Adam’s Cemetery and communing with Kat’s mother. It had been a while since the last time, but that was before Courtney’s body was found and Addie Donovan went missing. It was one of the ways her father dealt with emotional trauma, while Kat had her own methods, one of which was engaging in reckless behavior, apparently.
“Who told you I stopped by?” Kat asked as she climbed back into her Jeep.
“Blair Kincaid. He was going to Betty Ann’s. Picks up breakfast almost every morning there.” A pause. “Guess you almost rammed his truck.”
Kat’s fingers flexed around the steering wheel. “I was backing out, and he came up behind me.” Did she sound defensive? Probably. “Didn’t even know he was there ’til he blasted me with his horn.”
“Well, no harm done. I thought Hunter made a mistake bringing him back to the Kincaid ranch and then putting him in charge. I mean, Blair’s always been good with livestock, has been since he was a boy, but he and trouble were pretty good pals back in the day too, and there was that time—”
“I don’t want to talk about Blair Kincaid,” Kat stated flatly.
“—that Blair and Carl Perkins were in that fight at the Buffalo Lounge. Blair wasn’t old enough to be drinking there, but he was, and he took offense because Carl thought he’d stolen his girl.”
“Dad, that was Rafe Dillinger, and the girl was Darla Kingsley.”
“I’m talking about the one who had the baby.”
“I know which one you’re talking about. It was Darla. And it was all rumor anyway.” Kat was impatient. “She might never have been pregnant in the first place.”
“I thought Blair confessed to being the baby daddy.”
“No. Blair and Carl were fighting about some bet at the rodeo that summer. It had nothing to do with Darla. Courtney was the one who planted that rumor because Rafe was her boyfriend.”
“Okay.” He sounded slightly taken aback at her sharp tone.
“I just came by to talk about the barbed wire. Ricki and I are going over to the Dillingers this afternoon and talking to Ira.”
“He should know about the wire,” he said in a contained voice. She knew she’d hurt his feelings at her abruptness, but she couldn’t help herself.
Kat thought about Courtney. All that high school drama was so trivial now. Exhaling heavily, she said, “The photo I gave you of Courtney . . . I shouldn’t have given it to you without checking with Sam or Ricki first. Ricki let me know this morning that it wasn’t protocol, and I’m just lucky no one’s taking it any further.”
“Everyone knows how involved I’ve been with those missing girls,” he protested.
“You couldn’t have called me first? Given me a chance to explain it?”
“I didn’t think about it. I just wanted to tell them what I found. Ricki’s a Dillinger. Part of the family.”
“Well, it got me a talking to. Which I probably deserved.”
“I’m sorry, honey.”
He was so shocked and contrite that she lifted up her hands. “Forget it. Ricki’s okay now. And it’s a great lead.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. What have you got?”
“I pulled out my magnifying glass and really examined it. Back in the day, these ranches all had their own special wire. The way the barbs are twisted on it. This one had a double twist, and a reversal. Gives it an upward tail. Knew I’d seen it before, and it was either Dillinger or Kincaid.”
Kat mentally reviewed the picture she’d taken of the barbed wire, but her brain was focused on the torn flesh around Courtney’s wrists.
“It’s all pretty much a thing of the past now. Thought about asking Blair about it, when he was here, but I’m leaning toward Dillinger. That’s what I told Ricki.” He paused. “I should’ve called you first.”
“I should’ve gone to Sam and Ricki first. It’s all right.” Kat forced the image of Courtney’s wrists from her mind.
“This wire wasn’t for sale just anywhere. It was made special for the ranchers for their livestock. You couldn’t buy it at a store.”
“You’re not saying you think Courtney was held prisoner by a Dillinger or a Kincaid, are you?”
“Not necessarily, but Rafe Dillinger’s one of the top three on my list,” he reminded her.