Agent Daddy Page 12
“Why don’t I put a jacket on Colin and we’ll walk down there for you,” Faith offered. “Maybe you could put your feet up for a bit.”
“That would be heaven—I’ll make myself a pot of tea. Thank you, lass.”
Mrs. Murphy insisted on putting Colin in enough layers for a trek through the Antarctic, while Faith ran to the cabin and changed into jeans and sturdy shoes. She found a baby backpack in the laundry area of the ranch house and tucked Colin into it. The two of them took off with detailed directions for finding the barn that housed the tractors and other ranch equipment. It was the farthest one out, in an area nearest the ranch house.
To get to it, she walked first through the horse barn, where she found Buttercup had been let out of her stall and into an indoor paddock. Colin squealed with delight as the horse trotted up to them and snorted, her breath condensing in the cold air. Faith made a mental note to bring a carrot next time. She patted Buttercup’s warm neck as Colin waved his hands and made high-pitched noises. The horse didn’t seem to mind the commotion.
Next, they walked through the new construction, which meant she walked the ground where Colin’s parents had died. The baby was oblivious, happily playing with Faith’s hair and lurching this way and that, but Faith was glad to leave it behind.
By the time they reached the last barn her leg ached. It didn’t matter. Kicking David Lee had been good for her soul. The backpack was also hard to handle, digging into her backside and putting strain on bones injured months before. Note to self: find a stroller.
The barn appeared to be the oldest structure around, slightly tilted, like a cypress tree on the coast, buffeted by prevailing winds until it listed in the opposite direction. It was dark and cavernous inside, seemingly empty of anything save tractors and trucks and mysterious-looking equipment. She finally heard voices near the back and made her way toward them.
Two men were half-inside the open front hood of a very old truck, their voices alternating as they talked. Faith recognized George Plum’s green coat, though neither man looked up or gave any indication they noticed Faith’s arrival.
Eddie Reed sat on a stool next to a tractor, a huge box of tools at his feet, work lights trained on the engine in front of him. Noelle sat on a stool next to him, almost buried in a bright red coat and matching knit cap. She was playing with something Faith didn’t recognize, talking to herself, off in her own world.
Noelle apparently heard Colin’s squeal of excitement upon spying his sister. She looked up suddenly, grinned and jumped off the stool, running to Faith.
“Did you bring me a cupcake?” she asked, staring up at Faith with wide brown eyes so much like her uncle’s.
“Of course I brought you a cupcake.” She smiled a greeting at Eddie who had looked up from his work, a wrench in his hand. Touching the toy Noelle held, she added, “What’s this?”
“Eddie gave it to me,” Noelle said, offering it to Faith. “Isn’t she so cute? I named her Betsy. Eddie’s mommy made it.”
Eddie dropped a wrench into the box and stood, wincing as he straightened up. “Been sitting there too long, kind of froze up. Hope it’s okay…My mom makes little dolls and I brought one for Noelle.”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Faith said, admiring the little cloth doll with the embroidered face and hand-sewn dress. Yellow yarn made up the hair. She had a feeling Buster was about to get kicked out of favorite-toy status. “She’s adorable. Your mother is talented, Eddie. Do you get to see her often?”
“I live with her,” he said.
“Oh, I didn’t know that.”
“We’ve always been close,” he said. “She’s my best friend.”
“I hope I get to meet her someday,” Faith said.
“Well, she’s disabled, you know, can’t get out much. But you’d like her. She’s a good person.”
Faith glanced into Eddie’s eyes. There was a kind of lost look in their pale depths with which she could identify. “I’ve always been very close to my brother and father, too.”
“I never knew my real father, and my stepfather walked out on Mama a long time ago,” Eddie said. “Left her a Christmas tree farm. It’s kind of gone to pot now, though. Mama was never strong enough to do the work. And I don’t have time to farm, I got to make us a living.”
“Your mother is lucky to have you,” Faith said.
“Yeah, well, when I told her about the kids, she insisted I bring them each a toy. Everything she makes is kind of delicate, though. I think the baby is too young for something like that, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. He’d stuff it in his mouth.”
Eddie grinned. “Yeah, that’s what I told her.”
Noelle had wandered off and was standing by George. Faith witnessed the man drop a red and white candy into Noelle’s hand. She waited until Noelle had unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth before saying, “Noelle? Mrs. Murphy was looking for you. She says it’s time to come back to the house. It’ll be dark soon.”
Both men looked up from the engine as though just realizing Faith was in the barn. Faith detected the bulge of a handgun under George’s long coat. The other man looked away. It was Paul Avery, the “guard” Trip had sent to the school. As always, he seemed nervous around Faith.
“I don’t want to go,” Noelle garbled around the lump of sugar in her mouth.
“Go on with Ms. Bishop now, before Mrs. Murphy comes looking for you,” George said, rubbing his belly. “Damn heartburn,” he added.
“Are you sick?” Faith asked. Truth was, George looked kind of sallow.
“No, it’s just heartburn.” He thumped Avery’s arm. “Escort Miss Bishop and the kids back up to the house.”
“Yes, sir,” Paul said, looking as though he’d rather go skydiving without a parachute. He retrieved a rifle from where he’d propped it against a stack of boxes.
“That’s not necessary,” Faith protested.
“It’s getting dark,” George said ominously, with a confirming nod at Paul.
“The boss told us about that killer,” Eddie said. “Mean-looking sucker. Better safe than sorry, Miss Bishop, the boss was clear about that.”
Paul Avery stayed several steps ahead as they wound their way back through the gloomy barn toward the darkening skies outside.
Chapter Eleven
Trip knocked on Faith’s door early the next morning, then used his key to enter.
He found her where he’d left her at midnight, asleep in a tangle of sheets, though she opened one eye as he crossed the floor. He sat down on the mattress next to her, holding a steaming mug of coffee. Her other eye opened.
“Do I have a treat for you,” he said.
She sat up, seemingly oblivious for a moment that she was naked, her breasts so inviting he reached for her with his free hand.
Laughing, she pulled up the sheet. “You, sir, have a one-track mind,” she said.
“Is that a problem?” he asked, letting his eyes do the wandering.
“No,” she murmured.
He handed her the mug. “Two sugars, a drop of cream.”
She took a sip and sighed. “Perfect. What’s my treat?”
“Remember how last night you were asking questions about the ranch?”
“Blame it on my insatiable thirst for knowledge,” she said, nodding. “I now know you raise antibiotic-free cattle, anywhere from five hundred to a thousand head, on two thousand acres of your own land, with an additional thirty thousand leased for summer grazing.”
“Very impressive. As George is sicker than a dog this morning, this is your big chance to come with me to a livestock auction.”
“George is sick?”
“Stomach flu. So, will you come with me?”
“I can’t,” she said. “First, there’s Mrs. Murphy—”
“I’d rather go with you.”
“No, I mean is she up to another day with both children? She looked exhausted yesterday. And how about the responses to your babysitting ad?”
She bit her lip as she frowned into her mug. He girded himself. When she looked back at him, the playfulness had fled from her gaze. She finally said, “I’m here to help you find a babysitter, remember? And to help Mrs. Murphy with the kids during the break until we hire someone else. For that I am getting free room and board. I’m not here to date the boss.”
“Can’t you think of it as a perk?” he said lightly. When she scowled at him, he added, “Mrs. Murphy is taking the kids to see their paternal grandparents today, and then she’s getting a perm. I take it that is an all-day affair. Paul Avery has orders to stick to the kids like glue.” He met her gaze. “I think it’s obvious we’re learning how to mix business with pleasure.”
She smiled at last. “Yeah, I guess that is kind of obvious.”
He kissed the curve of her neck. “How soon can you be ready?”
“It depends,” she said softly, and as she twisted to set aside the mug, the sheet slid down to her waist.
He caught her bare shoulders and lowered his head to run his tongue around each perfect nipple. A minute later he was undressed and sliding between the sheets beside her.
HE DECIDED TO TAKE George’s old truck, the one with the canopy on the back, as he intended to stop by the feed store after the auction. He threw a tarp in the back in case the canopy leaked, all the while listening to the Avery brothers telling him what to look for at the auction. The predicted snow had not yet arrived, just icy rain the wind drove through every crevice.
They stopped at the diner for a quick breakfast. Trip hadn’t really expected to find Marnie waiting tables, but her absence seemed to cast a pall over the place. The waitress who showed up at their table knew Trip and lowered her voice as she took their orders.
“It’s so weird in here. The cops have been questioning everyone. Marnie got into an argument with a customer over his bill day before yesterday. He thought she’d cheated him, and you know Marnie, she doesn’t suffer creeps quietly.” Her eyes clouded over. “Now I hear they had him down at the station half the night. Is that true?”
“I don’t know,” Trip admitted. He’d purposefully not called the sheriff’s office because this wasn’t his case, and it was hard enough keeping his nose out of it as it was. He sure as hell wasn’t going to get involved with Police Chief Novak. Nevertheless, he heard himself say, “Who are they questioning?”
“A guy named Peter Saks. Do you know him?”
Trip caught Faith’s small gasp of recognition. He said, “I’ve met him,” and recalled Torrence saying Saks had been throwing his weight around the diner a couple of days ago.
“There’s a rumor his girlfriend is missing, too. My husband is taking me to work and picking me up. He doesn’t want me wandering around alone.” She looked toward the kitchen and added, “I’d better take your order. What’ll you have?”
They both ordered. The food arrived hot and fresh, but their appetites had vanished. Back in the truck they drove to the auction yard in near silence until Faith said, “If Peter Saks is running around hurting people, then it doesn’t seem very likely we have to worry about Neil Roberts and Gene Edwards, does it?”
“No,” Trip said. He’d been thinking this, too. After all, there was nothing that pointed to them actually coming after Trip. Perhaps this all had been one coincidence after another and the fugitives were either out of the country by now or dug down deep somewhere waiting out the FBI.
They’d have a long wait.
“The FBI has expanded the search,” he added. “No leads on the Idaho agent’s murder. I can’t imagine why either one of them would bother Marnie Pincer.”
From the corner of his eye, he watched as Faith wrapped her arms around herself as if to ward off a sudden chill. “Remember how you told me I’m pretending to be a rancher?” he mused.
“Yes,” she said, smiling uneasily. “I’m sorry about that.”
“No, you were right on the money. I think ranching is in your blood or it isn’t. Face it, it’s not in mine. But for today and as many days as I need to, I can act the part and do what needs to be done. Let’s concentrate on that for now, okay?”
“Fine with me,” she said.
The auction yard itself was crowded with hopeful buyers. Trip had been there before, with his father, but never alone and never to bid on livestock. He parked at the edge of the crowded lot and the two of them walked to the auction barn. He had an hour in which to inspect the bull.
The animal came with a veterinarian health certificate and a breeding pedigree. There were a couple of other ranchers looking the bull over, one Trip recognized as an old friend of his father’s. Trip tried to read the older man’s reaction and decided he would bid only if his dad’s crony bid, because despite the crash course, the truth was he wasn’t experienced enough to judge an animal by himself.
After finding out when his bull was on the docket, he and Faith found a place in the crowded bleachers, and for the next two hours listened as the rain pelted the metal roof high overhead. They cuddled together against the chill wind that blew through the cracks, sipping coffee and hot chocolate bought at the refreshment stand, doing their best to stay warm. It felt like a vacation to Trip, a time away from worry. He’d received a cell phone call from Paul Avery, so he knew Mrs. Murphy and the children were safe, the ranch house was guarded better than most prison yards and Faith was right beside him.
The auctioneer’s robotic chants, the murmurs of the mostly male crowd and the sounds of the animals as they paraded in and out of the central ring just added to the oasis of privacy he felt with Faith. He tried to let go of other concerns that weren’t really his, and concentrate on her. She’d yielded to him, true; she was a wonderful lover and a great companion, but she’d made it clear in a dozen small ways that she was determined to stand alone.
“I noticed you flinched that day at the school when I asked you if you had children,” he said at one point. “Back the first time we met.”
She stared into her almost empty mug and whispered, “I may not be able to have a baby.”
“Because of your injuries.”
“Yes. It’s just a possibility, you know. Nothing definite.”
“But it hurts.”
“Of course it does. I love kids.”
“I have two,” he said, smiling.
She stared at him a second, shook her head and leaned her shoulder into his, smiling.
His bull was finally announced and they moved closer to the ring in order to bid. His dad’s old friend was there, too, but in the end, Trip prevailed and he got a respectful nod from the old friend.
A half hour later he’d arranged payment as well as transport. “Now the feed store,” he said, as they walked back to the truck. The rain had turned to snow that didn’t stick, and Faith’s face acquired a lovely pink sheen from the cold. He kissed her nose before helping her climb into the truck.
“I don’t know,” she said, as she turned up the heater, “but maybe ranching could be fun.”
“Maybe,” he said, though he knew it would never satisfy him the way police work did.
“Did you ever like it?”
“You mean when I was a kid?”
“You were born on the ranch, weren’t you?”
“Well, in a hospital, but if you mean is the ranch where I grew up, yes, you’re right. My little sister was the one who lived and breathed horses and wide-open skies and could never imagine another life.”
“But you could.”
“Absolutely. Much to my father’s chagrin. At first I wanted to be a lawyer, but after graduation I gravitated to law enforcement. It about killed poor old dad. The only thing that saved him was that by then Susan had met Sam Matthews, and Dad loved Sam.” A shadow crossed his face. “Right after they got married, Dad was in a car accident and he died a few weeks later. Sam and Susan helped my mother with the ranch, and when she became ill, took over the place.”
“Your mother died t
his summer?” she asked, holding her hands up to the heater. The escaping air blew her hair in a very beguiling way.
He nodded. “Yeah. She was in a nursing home, kind of holding her own—and then she just died. Everyone was kind of surprised. Luckily, I’d been to see her just a few days before, so I got to say goodbye.”
“That was the trip where you got involved with the bus accident.”
“Yes. And then a month or so after that, when I was back in Miami and getting ready for an undercover assignment, I got news Susan and Sam were burned to death in a barn fire. Things changed overnight.”
“I guess I don’t understand who started rebuilding the barn.”
“George Plum. He had authorization to continue ranch chores. As soon as the barn was cleared by the fire marshall, George bulldozed the charred remains, determined to make things the way they were. When I got here and saw what he was doing I put the brakes on. I don’t want the kids to grow up with a new barn over the spot their folks died. I’m going to make it into an orchard or a garden or something life-affirming.”
“I think that sounds lovely,” she said, looking at him with a warm glow in her eyes. Had a woman ever regarded him that way before?
“My father would think it was a waste of good land and overly sentimental,” he said.
“So? You’re not your father’s son, I guess.”
“I guess not.”
They were almost to the edge of town. Trip saw flashing red and blue lights ahead and slowed down as he recognized the police car pulled off the road on the other side of the highway, right behind a familiar old white Mercury. A passing truck and trailer blocked his view until he was past. He glanced into the side-view mirror. A deputy and David Lee stood on the verge.
“Did you see that?” he asked Faith as she seemed to be craning to look in her side mirror as well.
“Was that David Lee?”
“Yeah. I wonder if they finally pinned something on him.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Faith said flippantly, but as he glanced at her, she raised her hand to her face and continued the journey to smooth her hair. It was the first time he’d seen her make that gesture in days.