Книга - Hard Ride to Dry Gulch

Hard Ride to Dry Gulch
Joanna Wayne


A DEDICATED DETECTIVE RISKS HIS LIFE TO SAVE A WOMAN AND HER SON IN THIS SPELLBINDING BIG "D" DADS: THE DALTONS NOVEL BY JOANNA WAYNE. A haunting beauty with mesmerizing brown eyes is in desperate need of Dallas homicide detective Travis Dalton's help. Faith Ashburn's troubled teenage son is missing…and may be hiding secrets that could get him–and his mother–killed.Faith will do whatever it takes to find her boy, even if it means turning to the rugged detective, a man shadowed by his own painful past. When the search reveals a shocking connection to the dangerous criminal Travis has sworn to bring down, Faith has to trust him with her life. And when passion flares, she has to trust him with something she vowed never again to give: her heart.







A DEDICATED DETECTIVE RISKS HIS LIFE TO SAVE A WOMAN AND HER SON IN THIS SPELLBINDING BIG “D” DADS: THE DALTONS NOVEL BY JOANNA WAYNE.

A haunting beauty with mesmerizing brown eyes is in desperate need of Dallas homicide detective Travis Dalton’s help. Faith Ashburn’s troubled teenage son is missing…and may be hiding secrets that could get him—and his mother—killed.

Faith will do whatever it takes to find her boy, even if it means turning to the rugged detective, a man shadowed by his own painful past. When the search reveals a shocking connection to the dangerous criminal Travis has sworn to bring down, Faith has to trust him with her life. And when passion flares, she has to trust him with something she vowed never again to give: her heart.


The desperation in Faith’s voice turned Travis inside out.

He longed to hold her close and whisper that everything would be all right, but it would be an empty promise. And once she was in his arms with her soft body pressed into his, comfort wouldn’t be the only thing on his mind.

He wanted to kiss her, had wanted to since the night he’d first laid eyes on her in the Passion Pit, though he hadn’t admitted that to himself then.

Now the desire was entangled with his need to keep her safe and help her find her son.


Hard Ride to Dry Gulch

Joanna Wayne




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


JOANNA WAYNE was born and raised in Shreveport, Louisiana, and received her undergraduate and graduate degrees from LSU Shreveport. She moved to New Orleans in 1984, and it was there that she attended her first writing class and joined her first professional writing organization. Her debut novel, Deep in the Bayou, was published in 1994.

Now, dozens of published books later, Joanna has made a name for herself as being on the cutting edge of romantic suspense in both series and single-title novels. She has been on the Waldenbooks bestseller list for romance and has won many industry awards. She is also a popular speaker at writing organizations and local community functions and has taught creative writing at the University of New Orleans Metropolitan College.

Joanna currently resides in a small community forty miles north of Houston, Texas, with her husband. Though she still has many family and emotional ties to Louisiana, she loves living in the Lone Star State. You may write Joanna at PO Box 852, Montgomery, Texas 77356, USA.


CAST OF CHARACTERS

Faith Ashburn—When her 18-year-old son goes missing, she will stop at nothing to find him.

Travis Dalton—Houston homicide detective. Once he meets Faith, he will do anything to help her find her son and keep Faith safe.

Reuben Jackson Dalton, better known as R.J.—Travis’s father and the owner of the Dry Gulch Ranch.

Cornell Ashburn—Faith’s missing son.

Reno Vargas—Travis’s partner.

Georgio Trosclair—Owner of the Passion Pit.

Angela Pointer—Exotic dancer who was involved with Cornell.

Mark Ethridge—Head of the DPD missing persons division.

John Patterson—Border patrol agent and a friend of Travis.

Walt Marshall—Former boyfriend of Angela Pointer.

Alex Salinger—Rancher in Laredo.

Joni Dalton—Best friend of Faith Ashburn, and Travis’s new sister-in-law.

Leif Dalton—Joni’s husband.

Alex and Hadley Dalton—Son and daughter-in-law of R.J., who live on the Dry Gulch Ranch.

Lila and Lacy Dalton—Twin daughters of Alex and Hadley.

Effie Dalton—Leif Dalton’s teenage daughter.


A special salute to mothers everywhere who know what it’s like to love a child unconditionally.

A smile to my grandchildren who bring endless joy to my life. And hats off to my editor, Denise Zaza, who has worked with me through almost sixty books. Here’s to sixty more.


Contents

Prologue (#uaddf021d-539a-5f95-84e9-952339b067a0)

Chapter One (#ub0d66457-89a2-54e6-981a-d01119f30c2e)

Chapter Two (#u154f9d8e-2584-5675-9414-e9b7ec6bce1b)

Chapter Three (#u699408da-06ef-5c5a-a7bc-033d58c31a57)

Chapter Four (#u826aa1ce-874d-573c-8de6-587dc701dbed)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)


Prologue

Faith Ashburn emphasized her deep-set brown eyes with a coat of thick black liner and then took a step away from the mirror to see the full effect of the makeup she’d caked onto her pale skin. The haunted eyes that stared back at her were the only part of the face she recognized.

Her irises mirrored the way she felt. Lost. Trapped in a nightmare. The anxiety so intense the lining of her stomach seemed to be on fire.

But she’d go back out there tonight, into the smoke and groping, the stares that crawled across her skin like hairy spiders. She’d smile and endure the depravity—praying, always praying for some crumb of information that would lead her to her son.

Cornell was eighteen now. Physically, he was a man. Mentally and emotionally, he was a kid, at least he was in her mind. A trusting, naive boy who needed his mother and his meds.

Faith’s bare feet sank into the thick mauve carpet as she stepped back into her bedroom and tugged on her patterned panty hose. Then she pulled the low-cut, trampy black dress from the closet and stepped into it.

The fabric stretched over her bare breasts as she slid the spaghetti straps over her narrow shoulders. Her nipples were covered, but there was enough cleavage showing to suggest that she’d have no qualms about revealing everything if the offer appealed to her.

Reaching to the top shelf of her closet, she chose the bright red stiletto heels. They never failed to garner the instant attention of men high on booze, drugs and the stench of overripe sex.

Struck by a burst of vertigo, Faith held on to the bedpost until the dizziness passed. Then she tucked a lipstick, her car keys and some mad money into the small sequined handbag that already held her licensed pistol.

Stopping off in the kitchen, she poured two fingers of cheap whiskey into a glass. She swished the amber liquid around in her mouth, gargled and then spit it down the drain. Holding the glass over the sink, she ran one finger around the edges to collect the remaining liquor. She dotted it at her pulse points like expensive perfume.

Her muscles clenched. Her lungs clogged. She took a deep breath and walked out the door, carefully locking it behind her.

Six months of going unofficially undercover into the seediest areas of Dallas. Six months of questioning every drug addict and pervert that might have come in contact with Cornell, based on nothing but the one shrapnel of evidence the police had provided her.

Six months of crying herself to sleep when she came home as lost, confused and desperate as before.

God, please let tonight be different.

* * *

“ANOTHER BACKSTREET HOMICIDE, another trip to see Georgio. I’m beginning to think he gives a discount to killers. A lap dance from one of his girls when a body shows up at the morgue without identification.”

“And the victims get younger and younger.” Travis Dalton followed his partner, Reno, as they walked through a side door of the sleaziest strip joint in the most dangerous part of Dallas. Georgio reigned as king here, providing the local sex and drug addicts with everything they needed to feed their cravings.

Yet the rotten bastard always came out on top. His rule of threats and intimidation eliminated any chance of getting one of his patrons to testify against him. Not that they would have had a shred of credibility if they had.

A rap song blared from the sound system as a couple of seminude women with surgery-enhanced butts and breasts made love to skinny poles. Two others gyrated around the rim of the stage, collecting bills in their G-strings.

A familiar waitress whose name Travis couldn’t remember sashayed up to him. “Business or pleasure, copper boy?”

“What do you think?”

“Business, but a girl can hope. Are you looking for Georgio?”

“For starters.”

“Is it about that boy who got shot up in Oak Cliff last night?”

Now she had Travis’s full attention. “What do you know about that?”

“Nothing, I just figured that’s what brought you here.”

Travis had a hunch she knew more than she was admitting. He was about to question her further when he noticed a woman at the bar trying to peel a man’s grip from her right wrist.

“Let go of me,” she said, her voice rising above the din.

The man held tight while his free hand groped her breast. “I just want to be friends.”

“You’re hurting me.”

Travis stormed to the bar. “You heard the woman. Move on, buddy.”

“Why don’t you mind your own business?”

“I am.” He pulled the ID from the breast pocket of his blue pullover. “Dallas Police. Back off or I snap a nice metal bracelet on your wrist and haul you down to central lockup.”

A thin stream of spittle made its way down the man’s whiskered chin as his hands fell to his sides. Wiping it away with his shirtsleeve, he slid off the barstool and stumbled backward.

“She’s the one you should be arresting. She came on to me,” he slurred.

Travis studied the woman and decided the drunk could be right. She was flaunting the trappings of a hooker, right down to a sexy pair of heels that made her shapely legs appear a mile long.

But one look into her haunted eyes and Travis doubted she was looking to make a fast buck on her back. She had a delicate, fragile quality about her that suggested she’d be more at home in a convent than here shoving off drunks. Even the exaggerated makeup couldn’t hide her innocence.

If he had to guess, he’d say she was here trying to get even with some jerk who had cheated on her. That didn’t make it any less dangerous for her to be in this hellhole.

“Party’s over, lady. I’m calling for a squad car to take you home.”

“I have a car.”

“Get behind the wheel and I’ll have to arrest you for driving while intoxicated.”

“I’m not drunk.”

He couldn’t argue that point. She smelled like a distillery, but she wasn’t slurring her words and her eyes were clear, her pupils normal.

“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing or who you’re trying to get even with, but if you hang around here, you’re going to run into more trouble than you can handle.”

“I can take care of myself.” She turned and started to walk away.

Travis moved quicker, setting himself in her path without realizing why he was bothering.

He looked around for Reno, but his partner wasn’t in sight. He was probably already questioning Georgio, and Travis should be with him.

“Look, lady. You’re in over your head here. I’ve got some urgent business, but sit tight for a few minutes and I’ll be back to walk you to your car. In the meantime, don’t make friends with any more perverts. That’s an order.”

She shrugged and nodded.

He stalked off to find Reno. He spotted him and Georgio a minute later near the door to the suite of private offices. When he looked back, the woman was gone.

Just as well, he told himself, especially if she’d gone home. He didn’t need any more problems tonight. But even after he reached Reno and jumped into the murderous situation at hand, he couldn’t fully shake her from his mind.

Whatever had brought her slumming could get her killed.


Chapter One

Four months later

Travis adjusted the leather-and-turquoise bolo tie, a close match to the one his brother was wearing with his Western-style tux. The irony of seeing his formerly Armani-faithful attorney brother dressed like this made it hard for Travis not to laugh.

“I never thought I’d see the day you got hitched to a cowgirl.”

“I never thought I’d see the day you showed up at the Dry Gulch Ranch again,” Leif answered.

“Couldn’t miss the wedding of my favorite brother.”

“Your only brother.”

“Yeah, probably a good thing you don’t have competition now that you’re building a house here on the ranch. On the bright side, I do like that I get to wear my cowboy boots with this rented monkey suit.”

Travis rocked back on the heels of his new boots, bought for the conspicuous occasion of Leif’s wedding to Joni Griffin. He’d never seen his brother happier. Not only was he so in love that he beamed when he looked at his veterinarian bride, but his daughter, Effie, would be living with him for her last two years of high school.

The Dry Gulch Ranch was spiffed up for the ceremony and reception. Lights were strung through the branches of giant oaks and stringy sycamores. A white tent had been set up with chairs, leaving a makeshift aisle that led to a rose-covered altar where the two lovers would take their vows.

Most of the chairs were taken. Leif’s friends from the prestigious law firm from which he’d recently resigned to open his own office nearer the ranch mingled with what looked to be half the population of Oak Grove.

The women from both groups looked quite elegant. The Big D lawyers were all in designer suits. The ranchers for the most part looked as if they’d feel a lot more at home in their Wranglers than in their off-the-rack suits and choking ties.

In fact, a few of the younger cowboys were in jeans and sport coats. Travis figured they were the smart ones. Weekends he wasn’t working a homicide case he usually spent on a friend’s ranch up in the hill country.

Riding, roping, baling hay, branding—he’d done it all and loved it. A weekend place on the Dry Gulch Ranch, just a little over an hour from Dallas, would have been the perfect solution to Travis. Except for one very large problem.

Rueben Jackson Dalton, his father by virtue of a healthy sperm.

“Time for us to join the preacher,” Leif said, jerking Travis back into the moment.

He walked at his brother’s side and felt a momentary sense of anxiety. He and Leif had been through hell together growing up, most caused by R.J.

It had been just the two of them against the world since their mother’s death, and they’d always been as close as a horse to a saddle. Now Leif was marrying and moving onto R.J.’s spread.

Oh, hell, what was he worried about? R.J. would never come between him and Leif. Besides, the old coot would be dead soon.

The music started. Leif’s fifteen-year-old daughter started down the aisle, looking so grown-up Travis felt his chest constrict. He could only imagine what the sight did to Leif. Travis winked at Effie as she took her place at the altar. Her smile was so big it took over her face and danced in her eyes.

Travis looked up again and did a double take as he spotted the maid of honor gliding down the aisle. She damn sure didn’t look the way she did the last time he’d seen her, but there was no doubt in his mind that the gorgeous lady was the same one he’d rescued in Georgio’s sleaziest strip club four months earlier.

He’d spent only a few minutes with her, but she’d preyed on his mind a lot since then, so much so that he found himself showing up at Georgio’s palace of perversion even when his work didn’t call for doing so.

All in the interest of talking to her and making sure she was safe. In spite of his efforts, he’d never caught sight of her again.

Travis studied the woman as she took her place a few feet away from him. She was absolutely stunning in a luscious creation the color of the amethyst ring his mother used to wear. She’d given the ring to him before she’d died.

It was the only prized possession Travis owned—well, that and the belt buckles he’d won in bull-riding competitions back when he had more guts than sense.

The wedding march sounded. The guests all stood. Travis’s eyes remained fixed on the maid of honor. Finally, she looked at him, and when their eyes met, he saw the same tortured, haunting depths that had mesmerized him at their first meeting.

Travis forced his gaze away from the mystery woman and back to Joni and Travis. He wouldn’t spoil the wedding, but before the night was over he’d have a little chat with the seductive maid of honor. Before he was through, he’d discover if she was as innocent as he’d first believed, or if the demons who’d filled her eyes with anguish had actually driven her to the dark side of life.

If the latter was the case, he’d make damn sure she stayed away from his niece, even if it meant telling Leif the truth about his new wife’s best friend.

The reception might have a lot more spectacular fireworks than originally planned. Travis was already itching for the first dance.


Chapter Two

So far, so good, Faith decided as she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. She had to hold it together and not let her emotions careen out of control. Any tears shed tonight should be ones of joy.

Unfortunately, she’d forgotten what joy felt like. Cornell had been missing for ten months now and she seemed no closer to finding him. Her nerves were ragged, her emotions so unsteady that the slightest incident could set off the waterworks.

Had it been anyone else who’d asked her to be maid of honor in her wedding, Faith could easily have said no. But she couldn’t refuse Joni, especially after the way Joni had stood by her when Cornell first went missing.

Joni was still concerned, but as the weeks had turned into months, she—like Faith’s other friends—had moved on with their lives. Faith understood, though she could never move on until Cornell was home again and safe.

As for the cops’ theory that Cornell had left home by choice, she was convinced it was pure bunk. Sure, she could buy that Cornell had gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd. He was extremely vulnerable to peer influence.

And she wasn’t so naive as to believe it was impossible that he might have experimented with drugs. A lot of kids had by age eighteen. But never in a million years would Cornell have left home and shut her out of his life—not of his own free will.

Wherever he was tonight, he was being held against his will or—

Here she went again, working herself into an anxiety-fueled meltdown.

This was Joni’s big night. Surely Faith could hold herself together for a couple hours.

Her glance settled on Leif Dalton. A boyish grin split his lips, and his dark eyes danced in anticipation. A sexy, loving cowboy waiting for his beautiful bride. Joni was a very lucky woman—if it lasted.

For Faith, marriage had been one of life’s major disappointments, enough so that she had no intention of ever tying the knot again.

She switched her concentration to Leif’s brother and best man. Tall. Thick, dark hair that fell playfully over his forehead. Hard bodied. Ruggedly handsome.

And familiar.

She struggled to figure out where she’d seen him before as she took her place on the other side of Leif’s daughter. Faith had missed the rehearsal celebration last night and arrived at the ranch only minutes before the ceremony tonight.

But she’d definitely seen him somewhere.

The tempo of the music changed and a second later the bridal march filled the air. Sounds of shuffling feet and whispered oohs and aahs filled the air as the guests rose to their feet for their first sight of Joni in her white satin-and-lace gown.

Adorable twin girls, their curly red hair topped with pink bows, skipped and danced down the aisle in front of Joni, scattering rose petals. Lila and Lacy, Leif’s three-year-old half nieces, whom Joni bragged about continuously. Faith wouldn’t be surprised if Leif and Joni didn’t start a family of their own within the year.

Faith stole another quick glance at the best man. Her heart pounded.

All of a sudden she knew exactly where she’d seen him before. In a Dallas strip club. He was the sexy cop who’d come to her rescue a few months back. The cop whose orders she’d disobeyed when she’d cleared out before he could ask too many questions.

He wouldn’t be nearly as easy to dodge tonight.

Talk about spoiling a wedding. One word from the groom’s brother about where he’d met the slutty maid of honor and Joni would figure out exactly why Faith had turned down every Saturday-night invitation to meet her and Leif for dinner.

Joni would worry about Faith’s safety. Worse, if she couldn’t persuade Faith to give up her visits to the criminal underbelly of Dallas, she’d insist on getting involved. No way could Faith drag Joni into that.

Steady, girl. Don’t panic.

There was a good chance the hunky, nosy cop wouldn’t connect her to the woman he’d met in a strip club months ago. For one thing, she had on tons less makeup. For another, she wasn’t braless. She was just Joni’s maid of honor.

Besides, he’d originally figured her for just another woman on the make, or perhaps even one of the off-duty strippers. No reason for him to have given her another thought.

Play this cool, leave at the first opportunity, and the cop would never guess they’d ever met.

* * *

“SURELY YOU’RE NOT thinking of sneaking out without a dance with the best man?”

The husky male voice startled Faith. Poor timing. She’d already stepped out of the tent and was about to start down the path to the parked cars.

Except for a brief conversation when Leif had introduced them after the ceremony, she’d managed to avoid Travis all evening.

She flashed what she hoped was an innocent-looking smile. “I’m not sneaking anywhere. I’ve said my goodbyes to the happy couple.”

“It’s still early. The party is in full swing.”

“Yes, but it’s a long drive back to Dallas.”

“So why drive it? The guest rooms in the newlyweds’ ranch bungalow aren’t fully finished yet, but I’m sure R.J. can put you up for the night. From what I’ve seen of his house, there are plenty of spare bedrooms.”

“So I’ve heard. Joni invited me to stay over,” Faith admitted. “But I really need to get home tonight.”

The band returned from their break. A guitar strummed. The lead female singer in the country-and-western band that had kept the portable dance floor occupied all night belted out the first words to an old Patsy Cline hit.

Travis fitted a hand to the small of Faith’s back. “One dance before you call it a night?”

Her brain issued a warning, but the music, the night and even the tiny lights that twinkled above them like stars overpowered her caution. Besides, Travis showed no sign of recognizing her. What could one dance hurt?

They walked back to the dance floor together. His arms slid around her, pulling her close as their bodies began to sway to the haunting ballad. His cheek brushed hers. An unfamiliar heat shimmered deep inside her. She dissolved into the sensual sensations for mere seconds before her brain kicked in again.

She hadn’t felt a man’s arms around her for years. No wonder her body had reacted to the contact.

She pulled away, putting an inch of space between her breasts and his chest and points lower. The warmth didn’t fully dissipate, but her breathing came easier.

By the time they finished the dance, she was almost fully in control. “I really do have to go now,” she said, leading the way as they left the dance floor.

“If you must.”

“I must. And really, there’s no reason for you to walk me to my car.”

“A promise is a promise.”

The man was persistent. If the cops handling Cornell’s missing-person case had been half as determined, they likely would have located him by now.

“No reason for you to leave the reception,” she said. “I’m sure I can find my way to my car on my own.”

“But what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you?”

“A sensible one.”

“Not my strong suit.”

“I got here late and had to park in the pasture across the road. You’ll get those gorgeous boots of yours dirty,” she said.

“I’ll risk it.”

Further protests would sound ungrateful or just plain pigheaded. Besides, it would be a lot darker once they left the twinkling lights. Her car could be difficult to locate among all the other vehicles. Travis might just come in handy.

Reaching into the petite jeweled evening bag that swung from her shoulder, she took out the keys to her aging Honda and started walking. Their shoulders brushed. A zing of awareness shot through her.

Disgusted with herself for letting Travis affect her, she picked up her pace. Bad call. Maneuvering the grass and uneven ground in her six-inch stilettos proved to be a dangerous balancing act.

The second time she almost tripped, she was forced to accept the arm Travis offered for support. A traitorous flutter appeared in her stomach.

It had to be just her nerves, or the fact that Travis was several cuts above the perverts she’d been spending her time with. Not every night the way she had in the beginning, but every weekend.

A breeze stirred. Faith looked up and was struck by the brilliance of the stars now that they’d left the artificial illumination.

“Amazing, aren’t they?” Travis said, apparently noticing her fascination with the heavens.

“Yes. Hard to believe those are the same stars that appear over Dallas. They look so much closer here.”

“Nothing like getting out in the wide-open spaces to appreciate the splendor of nature,” Travis agreed.

“Do you spend much time out here?”

“At the Dry Gulch? No way.”

“I guess that will change now that Leif will be living out here.”

“It won’t change anytime soon.”

“Because of your relationship with your father?”

“You got it. And you apparently know a lot more about me, Faith Ashburn, than I do about you.”

“Joni told me a bit about why you and Leif have issues with R.J. But Leif changed his mind about his father. Perhaps you will, too.”

“Sure, and Texas might vote to outlaw beef.”

“Stranger things have happened.”

“Not in my lifetime,” Travis countered. “But it was a beautiful wedding.”

“I’ve never seen Joni so radiant.”

“Have you and Joni been friends long?”

“Eight years. We met in a psychology class at Oklahoma University. We clicked immediately and became fast friends even though I was divorced and had a young son.”

They made small talk until she spotted her car and unlocked it with her remote device. The lights blinked. “That’s my Honda,” she said, grateful for an excuse to end the conversation before he started asking personal questions again.

She let go of Travis’s arm and hurried toward her car.

Travis kept pace, then stepped in front of her at the last minute, blocking the driver’s side door. “You know, Faith, you look a lot better without all that makeup you were wearing the first time we met.”

Her mouth grew dry, her chest tight. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen you before tonight.”

“Actually, we met a few months ago. You’re not the kind of woman a man could forget.”

Faith wondered at what point during the night he’d figured that out. She shrugged. “Sorry. You must have me confused with someone else.”

“Not a chance.” He propped his left hand against the car roof and leaned in closer. “Let me refresh your memory. The Passion Pit. Four months ago. You were cruising the bar when one of your admirers got out of hand.”

She rolled her eyes. “Cruising the bar?”

“Don’t go all naive on me, Faith. A lady doesn’t just drop into the Passion Pit unescorted because she’s thirsty. You were wearing a black dress that left little to the imagination and a pair of nosebleed heels that screamed to be noticed. We talked. I asked you to wait so that I could see you safely home. You didn’t.”

“You definitely have me confused with someone else.”

“Not unless you have an identical twin. I asked Joni. She assured me you don’t.”

And Faith was a terrible liar. That left truth or some version of it as her only feasible choice if she wanted to get the detective off her back.

“You’re right.” She cast her eyes downward, to the tips of Travis’s cowboy boots. “I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I was in that disgusting place once. A detective came to my rescue when a rowdy drunk got out of hand. That must have been you.”

“Yep. Apparently, I am easy to forget. So why the denials?” Travis asked. “As far as I know, you didn’t break any laws that night.”

“I absolutely didn’t. Not that night or any other. I’d just rather Joni not know I did something so stupid.”

“Not only stupid, but dangerous,” Travis corrected. “Why were you there?”

“I was writing an article for a magazine on the increase of gentlemen’s clubs in the Dallas area. I decided I should at least visit one of them for firsthand research.”

“Dressed like that?”

“I thought I’d be less conspicuous that way.”

“There was no way you’d ever go unnoticed, looking the way you did that night. Those red shoes alone were enough to guarantee you’d get hit on.”

So he’d noticed more than that she’d needed help. At least she’d had an effect on him. Not that she cared.

“I’d love to read that article,” Travis said. “Which magazine was that in?”

“It doesn’t matter. It was a busy month and they decided not to run the story, after all.”

“So all that work for nothing.”

“That’s freelance,” she quipped. Even to her ears the attempt at nonchalance fell flat. She was too nervous. And she’d never written a magazine article in her life. The closest she’d come was a letter to the editor they had actually printed in the newspaper.

“I thought Joni said you worked in the personnel department of a department-store chain.”

“Benefits manager, but I occasionally freelance.”

“You’re a lousy liar.”

And always had been. She was going to have to come nearer to the truth if she expected Travis to buy her story.

“Okay, I wasn’t there to write an article. A good friend of mine was worried about her daughter. She’d heard a rumor that she was dancing at the Passion Pit. I offered to go there and find out for certain.”

“Just helping out a friend.”

“Yes. Look, Travis, I know your cop instincts are running wild. But this time they’re way off base. I went to a strip club one night. I wasn’t looking for a job or trying to pick up tricks. I’m thirty-five years old, for heaven’s sake. Way too old to peddle flesh even if I was interested. End of conversation.”

“Not quite. If I ever find out that you’ve exposed my niece to drugs, alcohol or any other sordid behaviors, I’ll tell Joni everything and see that you never come around Effie again.”

Travis Dalton was not only arrogant, but overbearing. That would have turned her off in a second, except that he was being that way to protect his niece. That was the kind of dogmatism she’d craved from the cops investigating Cornell’s disappearance.

The temptation to tell him the truth flared inside her. It passed just as quickly. There was no reason to think he’d be any different than the other officers she’d talked to.

No. She’d made her decision. She had to go higher than the cops if she was to find Cornell. She’d done that. Now she was just waiting to hear back from a man she knew only as Georgio.

“You don’t have to worry about Effie,” Faith assured him. “I would never corrupt a child.”

“Good.” He opened the door.

She slid past him and climbed behind the wheel. “Good night, Travis.”

“One last thing.”

She looked up just as he leaned forward. Their faces were mere inches apart. The musky scent of soap, aftershave and sheer manliness attacked her senses, and a riotous surge of attraction made her go weak.

His hand touched her shoulder. “If you ever need to ask me about your friend’s problems—if you ever need to talk about anything at all—call me.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a business card and pressed it into her hand.

His voice had lost its threatening edge. His tone was compelling. “I’ll do what I can to help, Faith. You can trust me.”

Finally, he closed her door. She jerked the car into Reverse, backed from the parking space and then sped away. Her insides were shaking. Tears of frustration burned the back of her eyelids.

Trust him. She’d love nothing more than to believe that. Desperation urged her to turn back. Put Travis Dalton to the test. Avoid getting involved with Georgio, a man whose power frightened her and whose dark and forbidden world made her sick to her stomach.

But she’d tried working with the cops first, lost months doing things their way, wasted precious time not knowing if Cornell was sick, in pain, held captive or even...

No. Cornell was alive. She’d find him. She was on the right track now. Trusting Travis would accomplish nothing except to drag Joni into this nightmare.

Far better if she never saw Travis Dalton again, never gave him another chance to mess with her mind or her resolve.

* * *

TRAVIS TOOK A few steps, escaping the cloud of dust Faith left behind in her haste to get away from him. He was one of the best interrogators in the whole homicide department. He could recognize a liar as easily as some people could recognize a guy was bald or a woman was wearing a wig.

And that was with a good liar. Faith Ashburn wasn’t. But he still couldn’t buy that she was a hooker or an addict looking for a way to feed her demon. So what had she been doing at the Passion Pit that night and what really haunted those captivating deep brown eyes?

Travis started back to the party. He’d lost the mood for celebrating, but he couldn’t haul ass without letting Leif know he was leaving. His boots stirred up loose gravel as he neared the sprawling ranch house. Music from the band wafted through the night, competing with the cacophony of thousands of tree frogs, crickets and the occasional howl of a coyote.

Welcoming lights spilled out from every window of the old ranch house. The glow did nothing to make Travis feel more at home, but oddly, he didn’t experience any rancor toward the house or the ranch.

Even more surprising, he didn’t hate R.J., not the way Leif had at first or the way Travis had expected to before he’d met the man. Hard to hate a dying man, even a father who hadn’t bothered to find out if you were dead or alive or being daily abused after your mother died of cancer.

Not hating R.J. didn’t mean Travis gave a damn about him or wanted anything to do with him or the bait R.J. was casting out to lure his estranged family home.

Bottom line: if home was where the heart was, the Dry Gulch Ranch didn’t make the cut for Travis.

He spotted R.J. rounding the side of the house. The old man hesitated, then swayed as if he was losing his balance. Travis rushed over and caught him just as he started to crumple to the hard earth.

R.J. looked up at him, but his expression was blank and he looked pasty and dazed.

Travis kept a steadying arm around his waist. “Do you need an ambulance?”

R.J. raked his fingers through his thinning gray hair and looked up at Travis. “An ambulance?”

“You almost passed out there.”

“Where’s Gwen?”

It was the first Travis had heard of a Gwen. “Why don’t I get you back inside and I’ll see if I can find her?”

R.J. muttered a string of curses. “Just get Gwen. And tell everyone else to go home. Don’t know what the hell all these people are doing here, anyway.”

His words were slurred, difficult to understand. There was no smell of alcohol on his breath, so Travis figured this had to be related to the tumor.

Leif said R.J. had occasional moments when he wasn’t fully lucid, but he hadn’t indicated R.J. totally lost it like this. Could be the tumor had shifted or increased in size.

Travis looked around, hoping to see someone who knew more about R.J. than he did heading back to the house or to their car. No such luck. Everyone was obviously still in the party tent.

“Let’s go inside,” Travis said again. “Maybe Gwen’s in there.”

He began leading the old man toward the back porch. “Just a few yards to go,” Travis said. He walked slowly, supporting most of R.J’s weight. When they reached the steps, R.J. grabbed hold of the railing.

“Take a second to catch your breath,” Travis told him.

R.J. shook his head, then straightened, still a bit shaky. He looked back toward the area where the reception was going full blast and then up at Travis, as if trying to figure out what the devil was going on.

“Did I drag you away from the party?” he asked.

“Nope,” Travis said. “I walked someone to their car and ran into you a few yards from the house. You looked like you could use some help.”

R.J. scratched his chin. “Damned tumor. Can’t make up its mind if it wants to kill me or drive me crazy. Gets me so mixed-up I don’t know if I’m shucking or shelling.”

“Do you want me to drive you to the emergency room?”

“Hell no. Nothing they can do. I’ll just go inside and sit down awhile. Tell Leif that if you see him. I don’t want him worrying about what happened to me while he should be celebrating.”

“Shouldn’t I get someone to come stay with you? You probably shouldn’t be alone.”

“Nope. Tumor’s going to kill me and that’s a fact, but it ain’t gonna rule me. I’m okay now. You go back to the party afore that looker friend of Joni’s you were dancing with hooks up with some other guy.”

So the old man didn’t miss much when he was lucid. “If you’re talking about Faith Ashburn, she’s already left.” Probably to hook up with another guy. Hopefully not one picked up anywhere near the Passion Pit.

“C’mon. I’ll walk inside with you—not that I think you need help,” he added before R.J. could rebuke him. “I could use a glass of water. Then I’ll let Leif know where you are and see if I can find Gwen for you.”

“Gwen?”

“You mentioned her a minute ago.”

“Did I?”

“You did.”

“Don’t that just stitch your britches? Far as I know, there ain’t no Gwen around these parts.”

But there had been one wherever R.J. had gone in his mind. By the time they were inside the house, the old man seemed as alert as he had at the start of the evening. He walked on his own to the kitchen, opened the fridge and took out a bottle of milk. Travis reached into the cabinet, took out a glass and set it on the counter for him.

“Join me in a drink?” R.J. asked. “There’s beer or whiskey around here somewhere or you can just get water out of the faucet. We don’t drink that fancy bottled designer H2O around here.”

Sitting around drinking like old friends with R.J. had about as much appeal as being invited to shovel manure out of the horse barn.

“Another time,” Travis said. “If you’re okay, I need to be going.”

“Sure. I’m good. You head on back to the party. You know your being here tonight meant a lot to your brother.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it. Leif’s family.” All the family he had. Meeting R.J. hadn’t changed that. “You take care,” Travis said. Eager to clear out before the man started talking family or brought up his bizarre will, he turned and started back to the party.

“Thanks, son,” R.J. called after him.

Travis didn’t stop or turn around. But the word son clattered in his head, knocking loose some bad memories as he pulled the front door shut behind him. Memories he’d banished to the deepest, darkest abyss of his mind years ago and wasn’t about to let R.J. rekindle.

But Travis had accomplished one thing tonight other than doing his duty by Leif. He now knew the mystery woman from the Passion Pit’s name.

First thing tomorrow, he’d start his own investigation of Faith Ashburn—which might plunge him into a new set of problems.

If he discovered that she wasn’t as innocent as his hunch indicated and she was involved in some kind of criminal behavior, he’d have no choice but to arrest her.

News that your brother had just arrested your wife’s maid of honor would no doubt ensure a dynamic beginning to the honeymoon. Leif would love him for that.

* * *

FAITH PULLED ON the cotton T-shirt, drew her bare feet onto the bed and slipped between the crisp sheets. The once-cozy home felt even lonelier than usual tonight.

Perhaps it was the contrast between the glorious future filled with love and happiness stretching in front of Joni and Leif, and the heartbreak that filled these walls that made the desperation almost too much to endure.

Whatever the reason, the fear for Cornell pressed against her chest with such force she could barely breathe. Tales of past real-life abduction horrors roamed her mind like bands of deadly marauders. Victims kept against their will, sometimes for years. Abused. Tortured. Killed.

She shuddered and beat a fist into the pillow. Knowing she’d never find a shred of peace on her own, she finally gave up and retrieved the bottle of antianxiety medication the doctor had prescribed.

She shook two pills from the bottle and swallowed them with a few sips from the glass of water she’d placed on her nightstand earlier. She switched off the lamp and lay in the muted moonlight that filtered through her window. The branches of the oak outside creaked in the wind and sent eerie shadows creeping across her ceiling.

Counting backward, she tried to force her mind to dull and welcome sleep. Instead, her thoughts shifted to Travis. The instant attraction she’d felt in his arms was difficult to figure. Not that his rugged good looks wouldn’t have been enough to grab almost any woman’s attention, especially one who hadn’t been with a man in over two years.

Only it was more what she sensed with him than what she saw. Strength. Determination. Protectiveness toward his niece.

And a promise that she could trust him. She’d wanted to believe that, wanted it so badly that she’d almost turned around and driven back to the ranch after fifteen minutes on the road.

But she’d tried the police. They saw things in black-and-white. Her son had left home. His friends had suggested he was on drugs. He’d been seen in the seedy area of town and inside a strip club where he’d appeared to be enjoying himself.

Their deduction: no foul play suspected.

The police might be right to a point, but she knew her son. He might have caved in to peer pressure and smoked a joint, but he was not an addict. He might even have gone along with friends for a night of carousing, but unless something terrible had happened, he would have come home.

The black of night had eased into the gray of dawn before sleep finally claimed her.

She woke to the jarring ring of the phone. Anticipation stabbed her heart the way it did at every unexpected call, and she grabbed the receiver, knocking over the glass of water. The liquid splattered her arm and the side of her bed as she clutched the phone and put it to her ear.

“Hello.”

“Mom.”


Chapter Three

Faith’s heart pounded against her chest. Her breath caught. She jerked to a sitting position and forced her words through a choking knot at the back of her throat.

“Cornell. Is that you? Is it really you?”

“It’s me.”

“Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. Only...”

“Tell me where you are, Cornell. I’ll come get you. Just tell me where you are?”

“I can’t, Mom.”

“Are you having seizures? Have you been taking your meds?”

“I have a new prescription. No seizures in months.” His voice shook. “I’m so sorry. So sor—”

His voice grew silent. Curses railed in the background. The phone went dead.

“Cornell! Cornell!” She kept calling, but she was yelling his name into a lifeless phone. Her insides rolled sickeningly.

“Please call me back. Please, Cornell, call me back,” she whispered. The phone stayed silent.

There had to be a way to reach him. A hard metal taste filled the back of her throat as she punched in *69. A brief sputter of interference was the only response to her attempt to reach the number Cornell had called from.

Her head felt as if someone had turned on strobe lights inside it. A pulsing at the temples tightened like a Vise-Grip. She buried her head in her hands in an attempt to stop the dizzying sensation.

Was this just another nightmare or had she actually heard her son’s voice?

No, even trapped in the shock, she was certain the call had been real. Tears burned in the corners of her eyes and then escaped to stream down her face.

Cornell was alive. Finally, the truth of that rolled over her in waves. Her son was alive.

But where was he and what could he possibly be sorry for? For taking drugs? For drinking? Was he staying away because he thought she was mad at him? But if that was all there was, who had yelled the curses in the background that had frightened Cornell into breaking off the call midsentence?

He was not alone and whoever was with had him under their control.

Possibilities exploded in her mind, all of them too frightening to bear.

There had to be a way to find out where that call had originated. If she knew where Cornell was, she could rescue him. She could bring him home.

His interrupted call was proof he was being held or at least intimidated by someone. Even the Dallas Police Department couldn’t deny that.

Call me. You can trust me.

Travis’s words echoed in her mind. But was it Travis Dalton she should put her faith in or a man she knew only as Georgio?

* * *

OFFICIALLY, IT WAS Travis’s day off. Unofficially, he strolled into the precinct about 7:00 a.m. No one in the front office seemed surprised to see him. Homicide detectives never kept normal hours.

Neither did crime.

Jewel Sayer raised one eyebrow as he passed her desk. “I thought you were partying in Oak Grove this weekend?”

“Just stayed long enough to get my brother married.”

“What? No hot chicks at the wedding reception?”

“None as hot as you, Jewel.”

“Can’t go comparing the rest of the mere mortals to me, Travis. You’ve got to learn to settle for someone in your league.”

“So you keep telling me.”

Jewel was in her mid-thirties and a far cry from the beauty-pageant types who filled the Dallas hot spots six nights a week. She had a boxlike face hemmed in by dark, straight hair cropped an inch from her scalp. Her breasts were lost beneath boxy, plain cotton shirts. Her trousers bagged. Her face was a makeup-free zone.

Jewel was, however, a wildcat of a homicide detective. She could tear more much meat out of a seemingly useless clue than most of the men who’d had years more experience. And she had great instincts. She also had a husband who adored her.

Her phone rang. She lifted her coffee mug as a sign of dismissal before answering it.

Travis stopped at the coffeepot, filled a mug with the strong brew and took it to his office. He dropped to the seat behind his cluttered desk and typed Faith Ashburn into the DPD search system.

A few sips of coffee later, her name came up as having filed a missing-person report a few days under ten months ago, on June 25. That would have been approximately six months before he ran into her at the Passion Pit.

He pulled up the report she’d filled out. The missing person was her eighteen-year-old son, Cornell Keating Ashburn, a high-school student about to start his senior year.

According to the report, Cornell struggled with academics and received special help with his classes in a mainstream setting. He made friends easily but he was easily influenced by his peers. He was also on medication for seizures and reportedly needed daily meds to prevent them.

According to the report, Faith Ashburn had gone in to work early the day he’d gone missing, leaving before Cornell got out of bed. She’d come home from work to find a note from him saying he was hanging out with some friends from the neighborhood. He might spend the night at his friend Jason’s, but he’d call later and let her know.

He’d never called. He’d never come home. He’d never showed up at Jason’s.

That explained the torment that haunted her mesmerizing eyes.

Now that Travis thought about it, Leif had questioned him a couple months ago about how effective the police were with following up on missing-persons cases. Travis had assured him that they were thorough and professional.

No doubt Joni had told him about Faith’s missing son and that had prompted the questions.

Travis printed the original report and a series of follow-up notes by the investigating detective, Mark Ethridge. Mark headed up the missing-persons division and reportedly had handled Cornell’s disappearance himself. Ethridge was one of the best in the business at tracking missing or runaway teens.

Travis skimmed for the most pertinent details. Faith and Cornell’s father were divorced. He’d died two years ago in a work-related accident, so that eliminated any chance he’d run away to live with him. His maternal grandmother lived in Seattle. His maternal grandfather lived in Waco. Neither had seen Cornell in years. Nor had his paternal grandparents. Ethridge had checked that out thoroughly.

Faith had called everyone Cornell ever hung out with. No one had seen him that day.

His clothes were still in the closet except for the jeans, shirt and sneakers he’d obviously been wearing when he went missing. His iPad and computer were still in his room. Only his phone was missing. She’d called it repeatedly. There had been no answer.

Easy to see why she feared foul play.

Of course, it was also possible the young man had decided to chuck it all and run away from home. At eighteen, he wouldn’t technically be a runaway. In the eyes of the law, he was an adult with the right to live wherever he chose.

Travis finished off his coffee and then moved on to the notes Ethridge had provided. There was no final report, as the investigation was ongoing.

Not good, Travis decided as he delved into the investigation discoveries. Although Faith had insisted that her son had no issues that would cause him to run away, his friends from school painted a different story.

Several of his classmates, including Jason, had said he’d started acting strange in the days before he’d disappeared. They said he’d stopped hanging out with them after school, always said he was busy.

Ethridge had checked out the local drug and prostitute scene. Two strippers from the Passion Pit had recognized him from his picture, said they’d seen him in the club a couple times over the past few weeks, but not since his disappearance. One claimed he was hot for one of the dancers.

Even Georgio admitted to having seen him. Said he’d caught Cornell trying to touch one of his dancers inappropriately, and kicked him out. Claimed he realized then the kid was underage, and had told him to go home before he got into trouble.

After that, the clues ran dry.

Ethridge would have told Faith what he’d discovered. That explained her hanging out in the city’s scummiest dive. She’d been looking for her son or someone who could tell her where to find him.

The only good news was that Cornell’s body had not turned up at the local morgue.

That was the reality Travis lived with every day. He and his partner were the lead detectives in five unsolved murder cases of male victims between the ages of sixteen and eighteen who’d been killed over the past nineteen months. All had been shot twice in the back of the head, gangster-style, their bodies either left in an alley or dumped into the Trinity River.

At first people had paid little attention to the murders, attributing them to gangs or drug deals gone bad. But the last victim had been from a prominent family.

Now the media had jumped on board and were suddenly clamoring for information about the murders and pushing the idea that a serial killer was stalking Dallas. Nothing got the citizens more riled and afraid than the possibility of a serial killer who chose his victims randomly.

Neither Travis nor his partner, Reno Vargas, believed the murders were random. In fact, they were convinced Georgio was behind them. What they didn’t have was proof of his involvement.

Any way you looked at it, Faith Ashburn had plenty of reason to be worried.

Travis was about to go for more coffee when his cell phone vibrated. He yanked it from his pocket and checked the caller ID. Faith Ashburn’s name lit up the display.

He glanced at his watch. Only seven thirty-five and on a Sunday morning. He’d hoped he might hear from her, but he definitely hadn’t expected her to call this soon. He doubted it was personal, which meant she was calling about Cornell.

“Detective Travis Dalton,” he answered. “What can I do for you?”

“Travis, this is Faith.”

He liked the way she said his name. He didn’t like the tremor of apprehension in her voice. “Hi, Faith. Nice to hear from you.”

“It’s...” She paused. “I need to talk to you, as a detective. It’s about my son.”

“Cornell?”

“You know about his disappearance?”

“I didn’t until a few minutes ago. I just finished reading the missing-person report.”

“There’s a new development,” she said.

“Since last night?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of development?”

“I’d rather not talk about it over the phone. Actually, I suppose I should call Mark Ethridge, but I’m not even sure he’s kept the investigation open, and you did offer to help.”

“Don’t worry about the chain of command. I’ll handle that. I was going to talk to Ethridge about the case, anyway. When do you want to get together?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Right now works for me. How about breakfast?”

“That would be great. I can meet you anywhere you say.”

“I’m almost finished up here, so how about I pick you up at your place?”

“What time?”

He reached for the form she’d filled out, and checked her home address. It was probably a twenty-minute drive in light Sunday-morning traffic. “Is a half hour from now too soon?”

“That would be perfect, but, Travis...” She paused again. Unsure of him or facing new fears? He couldn’t tell which.

“Go on,” he urged.

“Don’t mention to Joni or Leif that I called you.”

“Joni surely knows your son is missing.”

“Yes. They both do. Leif even offered to hire a private detective to help find him.”

“You turned him down?”

“I’d already hired one.”

That, Travis hadn’t known. “Your decision,” he said. “You don’t have to admit to anyone you called me, if that’s how you want it.”

“It’s just that I don’t want to spoil Joni and Leif’s honeymoon, and there’s nothing either of them can do. Besides, Joni has spent enough time holding my hand and crying with me over the last ten months.”

“Then this is our secret,” he said. “See you in half an hour. I’ll try to offer more than a hand or a shoulder to cry on—though I have both if they’re needed.”

“Just help me find Cornell and bring him home.”

Travis couldn’t promise to bring him home. Cornell would have a say in that. But he would find him. Hopefully, alive.

He left the precinct and headed to her house. She lived in a neighborhood of small brick homes built close together, with well-tended yards. No gated access. Few trees. Driveways sported basketball hoops.

A young man pushed a baby stroller down the narrow sidewalk. An attractive woman in white shorts and a knit shirt walked behind them, keeping a close watch on a toddler who was pedaling furiously on her bright red trike.

It looked to be a good middle-class neighborhood to grow up in. Much nicer than the one Travis had lived in for the first few years after his mother’s death.

Then, most of the houses had been in need of repair and drive-by shootings were as commonplace as his foster father’s drunken binges.

Travis figured if it hadn’t been for his mother’s influence during the early years and Leif’s efforts to rescue him from the ghetto, he might have grown up as troubled and in trouble as the young punks who committed most of the crimes in Dallas.

He turned at the corner and started checking addresses. Faith’s house was in the middle of the block, a redbrick with white trim. The hedges were neatly groomed. Colorful pansies and snapdragons overflowed from pots by her door. In spite of her grief, she was keeping up appearances. Probably wanted home to be welcoming if or when Cornell showed up again.

Travis pulled into the driveway and took the walk to her covered entry. She opened the door seconds after he pushed the bell, handbag in hand, clearly ready to go.

“You’re prompt,” she said, stepping out the door without inviting him in.

“Also loyal, and I floss after every meal.”

A quick smile played on her lips but didn’t penetrate the veil of apprehension that covered her eyes.

She walked in front of him to his car. The white jean shorts she wore were cuffed at mid-thigh. Not too tight, but fitted enough to accentuate the sway of her hips. A teal blouse tied at the waist. The morning sun painted golden highlights in her dark hair.

He had to hurry to reach the door and open it for her before she climbed in on her own. He got a whiff of her flowery perfume as she slid past him. Crazy urges bucked around inside him. Not the time or the place, he reminded himself. Business only—at least until Cornell was found.

“There’s a breakfast spot in a strip center just a few blocks from here,” Faith said. “I hear they have good pancakes.”

“Do you like pancakes?” he asked.

“I used to, when I was a kid. I usually just have toast and coffee for breakfast now. I doubt my stomach will even tolerate that this morning.”

“No appetite, huh? Is that because of the new development you’re going to tell me about?”

She nodded, and he thought again how youthful she looked to be the mother of a teenager. She’d said she was thirty-five, which meant she’d given birth to him at seventeen. There must be a story there, as well.

“Tell me where to go,” he said.

He followed her directions. The restaurant was small, noisy and crowded. Not the best spot for a serious conversation.”

“Any chance we can get a seat on the patio?” he asked the young blonde hostess.

“How many in your party?”

“Two.”

“I think I can manage that.”

She smiled and led them to a table in the middle of the patio.

“How about that table in the back?” he asked.

“Okay with me, but it doesn’t have an umbrella, so you’re going to be in the sun.”

But it would give them a lot more privacy. He looked to Faith.

“The sun is fine with me,” she said.

Once they were seated, the hostess set two menus in front of them and announced that the waitress would be with them shortly.

“I didn’t realize the place would be so noisy,” Faith said. “I just need to talk and this was the closest café I could think of.”

Her apprehension seemed to be growing. He scooted his menu aside. “Let’s hear it. I can’t do anything about solving the problem until I know what it is.”

She clasped her hands in front of her. “I got a phone call from Cornell just before daybreak this morning.”

Travis hadn’t seen that coming. Even if he had, he would have expected it to be good news. Hearing the kid was alive made him feel a hell of a lot better, and he didn’t even know him.

“What did he say?”

“That he was sorry.”

“That’s a good start. Sorry for what?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Where is he?”

“I asked, but he didn’t answer that, either.”

“He must have said something more than ‘I’m sorry’ to have you this upset.”

“It’s what he didn’t say that has me so afraid, Travis. The call was a cry for help. I have to find out where he was when he made that call. That’s why I came to you.”

The waitress appeared at their elbow. “Are you ready to order?”

“Just coffee for now,” Travis said. “Black.”

“Same for me,” Faith said, “except I’ll need cream and an artificial sweetener.”

“Something got lost in translation,” Travis said as the waitress walked away. “The dots between ‘I’m sorry’ and the call being a cry for help don’t connect for me. Start at the beginning and tell me exactly what was said.”

The waitress returned with their coffee. Faith stirred in the cream and sweetener slowly, as if she was trying to get her thoughts together. Finally, she looked up and locked her gaze with his.

“‘Mom,’” she murmured. “I answered the phone and heard ‘Mom.’” She picked up her napkin and used it to dab a tear from the corner of her right eye. More moisture gathered. “At that point I think I went into momentary shock.”

In Travis’s mind she wasn’t far from shock now, just having to relive the moment.

“After ten months of silence, I can see why that jolted you,” Travis said.

“So much so that I asked if it was really him.”

“You weren’t sure from the sound of his voice?”

“Only for a few seconds. My heart was beating so fast I couldn’t think. I thought I might be dreaming. But it was Cornell. I know it was. I’d know his voice anywhere.”

“And after he said ‘Mom’?”

“I asked him about his seizure meds. He said he’d gotten a prescription and that he was taking them. Then he just said he was sorry.”

“For leaving home?”

“He didn’t leave home.” Frustration laced her voice. “At least not of his own accord. He would never do that. I told Detective Ethridge and the private detective I hired that he had no reason to leave home. I don’t think either of them ever believed me, but a mother knows her son. At least I know Cornell.”

Travis reached across the table and laid his hands on top of hers. “I believe you, Faith. I’m just trying to see the whole picture here so I can get a handle on the situation. It would help if he’d said what he was sorry for.”

“He never got the chance to tell me. Someone started yelling curses in the background. Before he could say more, the connection was broken, either by Cornell or by the person who was yelling at him.”

“Was the voice in the background male or female?”

“Male. I pushed *69 and tried to redial the number, but it wouldn’t come up. I called the phone company. They were no help, either. But you’re a homicide detective. You must have ways to get that number.”

“Did he call your cell phone or landline?”

“The house phone. I can give you my number.”

“I’ll need that for starters, but I’d like to take a look around Cornell’s room and also check out his computer.”

“Arsenio checked the computer thoroughly.”

“Arsenio?”

“Arsenio Gomez, the P.I. I hired. He said there was nothing there to lead him to Cornell.”

“I’d like to look for myself.”

“Of course. Do anything that you think might help us find my son. Please, just do it quickly, before the lead grows cold again.”

“I’ll do everything I can to help you find Cornell, Faith. But first we need to set a few ground rules.”

Faith met his gaze head-on, suspicion arching her brows. “What kind of ground rules?”

“I expect the truth from you, the total truth.”

“I have no reason to lie.”

“No, but sometimes it’s difficult for parents to face up to the truth about their child. If there’s any indication that Cornell was on drugs or mixed up with a gang, I need to know that up front. Not to judge him. But it might change the way I go about the investigation.”

Faith yanked her hands away from his. Her lips grew taut, her eyes fiery. “I know what you read in his missing-person file, Travis. I know what his friends said about him and that he was seen at the Passion Pit, but Cornell was only eighteen. He may have made some bad decisions. But he wasn’t a thug or an addict. He didn’t leave home by choice, and wherever he is, he’s being held against his will. I’m as sure of that as I am that my name is Faith Ashburn or that today is Sunday.”

Travis wasn’t convinced, but he did understand her desperation. It was a dangerous world out there. No one knew that better than him.

Which brought up another issue. “There’s one other ground rule,” Travis said.

“Do you always have so many rules?”

“All depends on the game I find myself in.”

“So what’s the rule?”

“You leave the investigating to me. No more trips to the Passion Pit or any other questionable location.”

“I’m smart enough to know how to avoid trouble.”

“I’m questioning your judgment, not your intelligence. I saw you in action, remember? Besides, I have a lot more experience and muscle than you, and I wouldn’t go near that dive if I wasn’t carrying a weapon.”

“If it’s that dangerous, why don’t the police shut the club down and put Georgio out of business?”

Georgio. Merely hearing his name from her lips made Travis sick. “What do you know about Georgio?”

“Just that he’s the owner of the Passion Pit.”

“And an offspring of the devil. Stay away from him, Faith. That’s an order.”

The waitress returned with refills. This time Travis ordered two eggs, over easy, with sausage, grits, biscuits and gravy, without bothering to look at the menu. Faith ordered a slice of wheat toast.

“If you’ll give me your home phone number now, I’ll make a call and get the ball rolling,” Travis said.

She took a pen from her purse and scribbled the number down on a paper napkin. “How long will it take to track the call?”

“Depends on where the call was made from. If luck’s on our side, we could have the phone number by the time we finish breakfast.”

“In minutes.” She sounded almost breathless. “Cornell could be home in time for dinner.”

Damn. He should never have gotten her hopes up like that. “Don’t count on instant gratification,” he cautioned. “Have to take things one step at a time, but if we discover where that call was made from, we’ll be one huge leap ahead of where you were when you went to bed last night.”

“I’ll take that,” she said. “But if we find out where he called from, we should be able to find him.”

They would have to play this smart. No rushing in without knowing for certain what they were up against. If Cornell was really being held against his will, making a foolish mistake could get him killed.

At this point, the best they could hope for was that Cornell Ashburn had just developed a sudden taste for independence, women and drugs, and taken a leave of absence from home to satisfy his cravings.

He definitely wouldn’t be the first eighteen-year-old to sow his wild oats. Travis knew that firsthand.

He put the search for the phone number in motion and then his focus returned to Faith Ashburn. She wasn’t beautiful, but she was attractive and natural. Her smile, her eyes, her intensity—it all got to him.

And it was meshing with an overwhelming need to protect her and get to know her better. Maybe it was the wedding thing. Seeing Leif so happy to settle down with one woman could be addling Travis’s brain.

If he was smart, he’d turn this back over to Mark Ethridge and run for the hills. But even if he wanted to, he couldn’t do that. Not with the possibility that her son’s disappearance could in any way be connected to the four others who had gone missing over the past nineteen months and turned up dead. The pressure was on to solve the case before another young man lost his life.

A young man like Cornell.

In spite of his concerns, when the waitress arrived with the food, Travis dived in like a starving man. If he let worry or even murder interfere with his eating, he’d have to go on life support.

He didn’t hear back about the origins of Faith’s early-morning call during breakfast or on the drive back to her house. Once there, he went straight to Cornell’s room and began searching with the same intensity he’d use for a fresh crime scene.

Travis pulled several boxes from the back of the closet. One held a half-dozen pairs of tennis shoes, two jackets that were too heavy for Dallas winters and a pair of hiking boots.

“Cornell loved outdoor activities,” Faith said by way of explanation. “Skiing, hiking, white-water rafting, horseback riding. His dad’s brother used to own a condo in the Colorado Rockies, and Cornell visited him with his dad several times. He loved it out there, even talked about moving there one day.”

“Have you checked with his uncle to see if he was with him?”

“His uncle died in a snowmobile accident three years ago, just a year before Cornell’s father was killed while working on an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico. My son has never fully gotten over those deaths.”

“That would be hard on anyone.” And it definitely gave Cornell a reason to be troubled. “How old was Cornell when you got divorced?”

“Ten. That’s when I met Joni. I needed some job skills, so I went back for an associate degree.”

Faith’s house phone rang. She gasped and grabbed her chest as she ran to answer it. Travis followed, listening in on the conversation until he was certain Cornell wasn’t the caller.

He went back to the boy’s room alone to continue the search. All he found was typical teenage stuff. A worn baseball glove. Video games. Old comic books. Some swimming trophies from when he was in grade school.

Nothing that provided even a hint or a clue of where Cornell might have gone or why. Travis had started to put them back in place when he noticed a smaller box pushed to the back of the shelf. He took it down, opened it and peered inside.

A porn magazine stared back at him. He lifted it to find eight more, all with pictures of naked women, nothing sadistic or particularly kinky.

All well hidden from his mother.

No surprise. Guys of eighteen seldom confided those kinds of thoughts and activities to their mothers. But if Travis and Faith were going to find Cornell, they would have to go into this with their eyes wide open.

He stuck his head out the bedroom door. “Faith, want to come in here a minute?”

She arrived a few seconds later, breathless from racing up the stairs. The look on her face was expectant, downright hopeful.

He hated that what he had to show her would replace it with a kick in the gut. He tried to think of something to make this easier on her, but he’d never been great at dancing around the truth.

He set the box on the table. “This might explain why Cornell was spotted at the Passion Pit.”

Faith pushed back the cover of the top magazine with one finger, as if was too disgusting to touch. Tough on a mother to find out her baby wasn’t one.

Travis’s cell phone vibrated. Caller ID indicated it was from the precinct. “I need to take this,” he said.

Faith nodded.

His focus quickly switched to the call and the information relayed to him by one of the younger officers recently appointed to serve under him in the homicide division.

The news was not good.


Chapter Four

Travis’s find made Faith sick to her stomach. She steadied herself against the bedpost while she tried to put the magazines into perspective.

So he wasn’t as innocent and naive as she’d believed. It was only natural he’d have the same physical urges as other boys his age. That still didn’t explain his disappearance.

Or the interrupted phone call. Or why he hadn’t called back.

But she hated that it had taken ten months to find out that her son had porn hidden in his room. That probably wouldn’t have helped her or the police find him. But what else had been going on in his life that she didn’t suspect?

Had he grown from a kid to a man without her realizing it? When had she lost touch with him?

Faith looked up, suddenly aware of the gravity in Travis’s low, deep-toned voice as he talked on the phone, and wondered if he was talking about Cornell or one of his homicide cases.

She studied the lines and planes of his profile. His face was tanned, his brows as dark as his hair, his face narrowing into a prominent chin and jawline.

He wasn’t pretty-boy handsome, but he was definitely the kind of man who’d stand out in a crowd. The archetype of strength and masculinity. His looks and manner instilled confidence. If anyone could find Cornell, it would be Travis Dalton.

Or was it her own desperation that made her read those qualities into him? If so, it was a mistake she couldn’t afford to make.

“Disturbing news?” she asked once he’d broken the connection and returned the phone to his pocket.

“Could have been better.”

“Does it have to do with Cornell?”

“Afraid so.”

A new wave of apprehension flooded though her. “Were they able to trace the call?”

“Yes and no.”

“What does that mean?”

“We have a general location, but not a specific one.”

“But a general location is better than nothing,” she insisted. “It gives us an area to start searching for him.”

“A very large and undefined area. The call was made from Texas, somewhere near the Mexican border south of San Antonio. But the phone used to make the call was purchased in Mexico. That places Cornell either north or south of the border.”

“Doesn’t the phone-service company have an address for the subscriber?”

“It’s not registered to a subscriber.”

“So it’s like one of those phones you can buy at a convenience store with a certain number of minutes included.”

“Exactly.”

“So all we really know is that Cornell is somewhere near the Mexican border.” Terror rumbled inside her. The border towns were known for their violent drug cartels, especially on the Mexico side.

Murders had risen to the point that few Americans ventured into them. Most of the police were rumored to be corrupt or so afraid of the cartels they couldn’t do their job. She and Cornell had watched a special about that on TV just last year. He’d been disgusted with the whole idea of criminals running over honest citizens.

“Cornell would never have gone to Mexico on his own,” Faith said. She dropped to the side of the bed. “He’s been abducted, Travis. I’m more certain of that than ever now. I have to find him, even if it means going into Mexico.” Her voice rose with her growing hysteria.

Travis shoved the magazines aside, dropped to the bed beside her. “I know how frightened you are, Faith, but believe me, going down there won’t help, and it could put you in danger.”

“Then what will help, Travis? Sitting here doing nothing? Endless talking and promises from Mark Ethridge and now you? Waiting to hear that my son has been...”

A shudder ripped through her. Tears burned her eyes and then began to roll down her cheeks.

Travis snaked an arm around her shoulder. She started to push away from him, but the pain overpowered her stubbornness. Impulsively, she dropped her head to his shoulder and submitted to the ragged sobs.

Travis didn’t say a word until she’d cried herself out and pulled herself together. Even then, he didn’t move his arm from around her shoulder.

She pulled away. Talk. For ten months all the police had given her was talk. Why had she ever thought Travis would be different?

“I have connections in the towns on both sides of the border, Faith. Let me speak with them and put them on alert,” Travis pleaded. “They know how to handle this, who to talk to, where to look.”

“Then why haven’t the police already done that?”

“I’m sure they have, but I’ll put on the pressure. Give me forty-eight hours. If we don’t have a lead by then, I’ll make a trip to the area.”

Faith walked to the other side of the room before turning back to him. “Anything could happen in forty-eight hours.”

“Anything could have happened in the last ten months,” Travis said. “But you heard Cornell’s voice. You know he’s alive, and he didn’t actually tell you he was in danger when he called.”

“If he wasn’t being held against his will, he’d be home. I don’t know why I can’t make anyone understand that.”

“I’m trying, Faith. Believe me, I’m looking at this from all angles. I’d like to take Cornell’s computer with me to see what additional information I can glean from it.”

“It’s a waste of time. Officer Ethridge and the private investigator I hired have both already checked the computer out and found nothing. Nothing suspicious on his email or any of his social-media pages. And nothing in the websites he’d visited offered so much as one decent lead.”

“I’d like to take that a step further,” Travis said. “The DPD has one of the best computer forensics experts in the country. He can discover ambient data that the average Joe has no idea exists on the hard drive. He’s found critical information to help me solve a murder case more times than I can count.”

“What kind of data do you expect to find?”

“It’s the unexpected that usually produces the best evidence. I’ll see if I can get a rush on this.”

Travis’s dedication seemed genuine, and if she could believe his rhetoric, he was ready to make finding Cornell a priority. But why? He was a homicide detective. This was way outside his line of duty.

“Why are you taking this on with such fervor, Travis? This isn’t your job. It isn’t you responsibility.”

“Let’s just say any friend of my new sister-in-law’s is a friend of mine. And from what I hear, you’re her best friend, practically family.”

“And from what I hear, you don’t even claim kin to your own father.”

“There is that,” Travis admitted. “So I guess we’ll have to go with that I’m one of the good guys.”

Strangely, she believed him. Yet she wasn’t convinced he understood the urgency. All her instincts stressed that the call from Cornell had been a sign that his fear was growing. He’d taken a risk to call her, and someone else had heard him on the phone. They were running out of time.





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