Page 27 of Silent Deception
“I think both Scout and the coyotes need singing lessons,” she teased as she unbuckled Rebel’s halter and sent him out into the pasture with Boots.
Even in the moonlight, she could see Cody roll his eyes.“Mo-om.”
“But they’re all better than me when I sing in the shower.” She gave him a playful nudge with her elbow. “Go toss some extra hay in the corral manger, will you? There’s a bale right inside the barn door.”
Ryan was watching her, his eyes intent, almost curious, as if he couldn’t quite place who she was anymore. She supposed he couldn’t—she wasn’t that young, impressionable nineteen-year-old now. Life had changed her in so many ways in the intervening years, just as it had changed him into a dark and haunted stranger in a body that still seemed all too familiar...and all too appealing.
“A penny for your thoughts,” he said, his voice somber.
“This is just so strange,” she said after a moment of thought. “I know you, yet I don’t at all. And I could never even begin to understand what you’ve been through. We were such babies back in college, weren’t we? We believed that anything was possible.”
“Innocence can be lost in many ways,” he said cryptically. He closed the tailgate of the horse trailer and started for the truck. “Make sure you get to the football game tomorrow. It will mean a lot to Cody.”
“Of course. I already planned to be there.”
“And you should try to get Cody’s dad here. That kid is hurting.”
His words still stung as she watched him drive away. Even from that first day when he brought Cody home, he’d implied that she wasn’t a careful mom. His opinion of her obviously hadn’t changed, but shehadplanned to be there for Cody tomorrow. With or without that curt reminder.
And he had no idea just how traumatic it could be if Ted actually did show up.
* * * *
ON THEIR THIRD MORNINGat the Homestead Clinic, Kristin and Max had two well-baby physicals, an old-timer with arthritis, and three people who simply wanted to check out the clinic “for future reference.”
Max drummed his fingers on the counter in the lab, where he had reorganized the supplies four times since Tuesday morning. “I know I’ll look back someday and regret saying this, but I really want this place to be busy.”
“It will be. Just give it time. We have two patients this afternoon, and theHomestead Heraldalways comes out on Friday. Our notice will be good news to the people who haven’t seen our sign because they don’t get into town much. People are going to love having a local clinic again.”
Max’s eyebrows lifted. “Loveis a tad strong, don’t you think? Our first patient certainly hasn’t been back.”
“And he hasn’t answered my phone messages, either. Before the HIPAA privacy laws took effect we could’ve called his family, laid out the bad news, and his son would have him back in a hurry. Now, unless he signs a release, we can’t say a word to anyone but him.”
“So...what can we do now? Checkers? Scrabble? I think we’ve cleaned and polished and organized this place to the nth degree.”
He was just in his early forties, but Max seemed more like the kind of grandfather she’d longed for as a child, rather than someone just ten years older. She grinned back at him. “Actually, I have an appointment with the sheriff over our lunch hour.”
“You do have a dark and dangerous past.” He feigned horror. “Iknewit.”
Laughing, she tucked her cell phone into her purse. “I think you’re safe here. In fact, knowing that I work with a nurse who bench-presses three hundred pounds makes me feel safe, too.”
She strolled across Main Street and cut across the lush green lawn of the courthouse. Following the signs, she skirted the massive stone building and went around to a back entry. The receptionist smiled and waved her toward a chair in the small waiting room outside several closed office doors.
A few moments later, a tall, well-built man in his mid-thirties came out. His khaki Dockers, white shirt, and tooled leather belt were hardly like the uniforms of the police back in Dallas, but he emanated an air of quiet authority that no one could miss. “Miss Cantrell? I’m Wade Montgomery.”
She rose and shook his hand. “Thanks for seeing me today. I was afraid you might be off on some emergency or something.”
He grinned. “Nothing earthshaking so far today, but that changes by the minute. Come on back.”
She liked him at once. His manner was easygoing right down to the Stetson hanging on the rack by the door. He waited until she sat, then dropped into the swivel chair behind his desk.
“How long have you been here in town?” she asked.
“I grew up here, but moved away for college and didn’t come back until I became sheriff four years ago.” He studied her over steepled fingers. “I have the advantage, I guess, since I’m on the Home Free committee. I know you’re new in town, and have the place Jim Baxter used to lease—along the western edge of the K-Bar-C property, a half mile off the highway. And, I believe, you still have family here.”
“You have a good memory.”
He lifted a notebook at the side of his desk. “I cheated and looked you up.”
