Page 25 of Deadly Evidence
How often did he have a granddaughter come to see him? As far as she knew, she was the only one he had.
She’d finally given up on trying to talk to him and offered to deliver Jonah’s lunch.
The old guy in that back bedroom sure didn’t look much like the big, burly guy in these photos. Now he was pale and gaunt, and his hands shook. But like Vicente, he didn’t have much to say, either.
And Lacey—Mia blew out a long sigh. Anna’s daughter had glared at her with serious dislike before taking off on her horse.Dislike, and they hadn’t even met each other yet!
Nothing on this trip was turning out like she’d hoped.
She picked up a horse-shaped trophy from an end table and ran her fingertips over the polished surface, then put it back down.
It was clear, she finally decided in disgust, that her gifts and talents had not come from hermother’sside of the family.
What kind of guy worked as a common laborer on a ranch and never cared about owning property of his own?
She’d imagined so much more, choosing to believe her mother had lied about Vicente.
Now, frustration tied her stomach in a knot.All this way—I came all this way!Her frustration heated to anger, then cooled to resolve.
Running her fingers through her long hair, she marched back to the kitchen where she heard the clang of a pot lid and the sound of the dishwasher running.
Vicente would be starting supper now, so he couldn’t stalk off to his cabin or disappear into the barn.
He spared a brief glance at her, then turned away and opened a cupboard door.
“Hi, Grampa, what’s up?”
His shoulders stiffened.
She crossed the room and propped a hip against the counter. “What’s for supper?”
When he just kept rummaging around in the stupid cupboard, she moved a few inches closer.
The back of his neck was deep brown, like heavily creased leather. His salt-and-pepper hair was still full and shaggy.
But beneath his heavy red flannel shirt his chest appeared sunken and bony where the top button gaped open.
Not much taller than her own five-foot-five, he probably didn’t weigh much more than she did, either. Maybe he’d been much stockier and straighter in his younger days, but it was hard to imagine that now.
Now, he looked old and bent, and she knew this trip would probably be the one and only time she’d see him.
She followed him over to the stove, where a stock pot of something spicy was simmering and a frying pan filled with crumbled ground beef sizzled and spat. “Secret recipe?”
“No.”
Surprised and a little encouraged, she moved close enough to almost brush his shoulder and watched him shake a dash of cumin into the stockpot.
“My mom loved to cook, too, but she didn’t make good Mexican food.” Mia inhaled the aroma of spices. “She just did the usual American stuff.”
“Go. I’m busy here,” Vicente growled.
He didn’t so much aslookat her. Hurt, Mia felt her mouth tremble and sudden tears burn behind her eyelids. Just her third day at the ranch, and she already knew that coming here had been a mistake.
Vicente hated her. Lacey ignored her. And wouldn’t you know, that cute cowboy from the cantina worked here—andheavoided her like the plague.
Yesterday, she’d gone out to the barn to apologize to him, but he hadn’t even nodded or met her eye. He’d just finished saddling his stupid horse, then mounted and rode off without a word.
The only friendly person here was Anna, but she never seemed to stop working and was rarely in the house.
