Chapter 4
Wyatt was never quite sure when he learned that he could go a good forty-eight hours without sleep.
Maybe he trained himself to do it when he was in college, when too many interests tore him in different directions.
After he left Jessy at her home, he headed back to the offices in Colorado Springs; he knew that his Supervisory Special Agent would be waiting for him.
And he was. Seeing Wyatt arrive, SSA Anthony Vargas motioned to him to join him in his office.
“First, thank you, and congratulations. This is still a mess, but it’s my understanding that poor girl wouldn’t have made it much longer. You saved a life, but what I want to know is this—how the hell did you know to go out there looking for her? We tore that property apart; we went to every neighboring house and property—how the hell did you know where to look? Wyatt, I know you don’t want to believe that a friend could be involved, but were you given a hint, did someone say something?”
Vargas had spent almost thirty years in the bureau; he was Colorado born and bred but had served across the country. Now, he was a focused and serious man, bald as a buzzard, but lean, fit, and professional, as befitted his position.
“Sir, I swear to you that friendship wouldn’t influence me when we’re searching for someone who is not just robbing people, but threatening their lives,”
Wyatt told him.
“But this had nothing to do with anyone who was even in the area when the robbery took place. Kelly Danson, my family’s closest neighbor, passed away recently. His granddaughter, Jessy Danson, was a friend of mine—or, at the least a close acquaintance when we were growing up since our families were always friendly. She arrived just yesterday from New York. I invited her to the club last night, and when she heard about what happened, she started telling me about outbuildings on her property that had been forgotten because new facilities for various purposes had been built. She insisted we go out there. I knew I heard a cry. I could not find a building—derelict or otherwise—and the only other possibility was a bunker or storage area underground.”
“This woman who helped you has only been here about a day now?”
Vargas asked.
“That’s right.”
“You don’t think she’s been in touch with someone here—”
“Sir, I know that she has not.”
Vargas let out a sigh, shaking his head.
“And you don’t think any of your other friends or acquaintances have figured out that you’re undercover as yourself with the bureau?”
Wyatt shook his head.
It had been a strange journey for him. Music, yes, he’d always loved music. And he’d also loved the ranch and the great state of Colorado, the beauty of the mountains and plains. He’d grown up at rodeos, bull riding and barrel racing.
But he’d been a freshman in college when Gayle Meyers had been kidnapped. And it had been the work of an undercover agent that had led to her discovery.
It had been a lot like this situation . . .
Gayle Meyers had been found in an abandoned warehouse, unconscious, barely responsive—but she was alive today because of the dedication and work of one woman, a trained agent who had inveigled her way into the group that had been committing a series of crimes, one of which had been witnessed by Gayle Meyers.
Music had become, ironically, second fiddle, in his quest to discover just exactly what he wanted to do with his future.
Classes in crime scene investigation, the law, and the role of law enforcement had begun to fill his schedule.
And he’d known, and the academy had been his first step right out of college.
He was great at undercover work, which meant he did travel constantly for business, and he’d been at it for years. His home office was there, Vargas was his immediate superior, but the travel to work in other areas was good. It kept him from places where he was a known quantity.
But then this strange situation had arisen and profilers—and law enforcement officers and agents who weren’t profilers—all believed that someone local had to be involved.
And the belief was that houses and ranches were watched. Usually, the criminals waited until they knew no one would be around.
But then they had grown bolder.
And thus, they’d put a woman in the intensive care unit of a hospital and nearly killed a teenaged girl.
“Well, you should probably get some sleep. And I’m going to assume that you’re not being influenced—”
“Sir, no. I’ll admit, I’m pretty close to the men who are in the band I play with, but I’ve also been able to spend time with them. I know where they’ve been, and what they’ve been doing. I have had my suspicions regarding one of the hands at the Danson ranch.”
“And you have solid ground?”
“If I had solid ground, I would have told you, and an arrest would have been made by now. And I assure you, my emotions regarding anyone would be outweighed a thousand times over by the fact that a teenaged girl could have died after that last heist, not to mention the girl’s mother, who was still in the intensive care unit last night.”
“What is your suspicion?”
Vargas asked him.
Wyatt hesitated; he hadn’t meant to. He was serious; whatever exactly was going on and between whoever, it was getting worse.
“There’s a hand at the Danson ranch I’m keeping an eye on,”
Wyatt told Vargas.
“David Benson. He’s a fellow of about five-eleven or maybe six feet even, but he’s built like a bull—lots of power to force someone around with or without a gun. I’ve known Cody Connelly—their ranch manager—since I was a kid. He’s a good boss. But a few days ago, I stopped over there. There’s that rodeo coming up the Saturday before Christmas, and when I’m in town, I always showcase one of their quarter horses in the barrel racing.”
“And you win a lot, I take it,”
Vargas offered dryly.
Wyatt shrugged.
“I think I rode a horse before I could walk, sir. My family has a dairy cattle ranch, but riding has always been part of handling the herd. Anyway, when I was over there, I had gone to see Cody about what horse he wanted me to work this year. When I was leaving, I stopped and chatted with the housekeeper, and I could hear Cody talking to David and he was angry. It was the day after one of the robberies, and Cody was angry with David for being late or for not showing up at all. I wasn’t sure which. But while they aren’t required to live at the ranch, the hands all have housing in a dormitory-style building that’s located behind the stables. David has a place there, and whether he was or wasn’t there that morning, I don’t know. I mean, the man just may have been out late with friends—”
“And those friends might have been criminals,”
Vargas said.
Wyatt shrugged.
“Where I question myself is in this—whoever is doing this knows what the hell they’re doing. Forensic teams haven’t been able to find a single fingerprint that didn’t belong or so much as an epithelial cell. David Benson doesn’t have a criminal record—he’s accrued parking tickets, but nothing more. I think he’d be great brawn when needed, but I don’t know how or where he might have learned to be so careful. At the Dunworth house, Chrissie was taken by surprise, a feed bag was quickly thrown over her head, and she saw nothing. Her mother was clocked from behind with a figurine that was easily available where she had been standing. Nothing on it—except for her blood and tissue. Someone knows—”
“You can learn just about anything on YouTube these days,”
Vargas said wearily.
“Still, I think we’re looking for someone who may have been in prison at some time in his life, someone who might have learned from his—or her—mistakes.”
“But among your acquaintances—”
“No such person. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t know someone who might know someone. And of course, I could be entirely wrong.”
“But then again,”
Vargas said.
“after everything we’ve done, we’ve still got nothing. Nothing at all. No one has even noticed a car that shouldn’t have been somewhere or seen the same kind of car. And after all this, we don’t have a damned lead. So, do it, Wyatt. Go with your gut. See if you can get anywhere. This is getting worse and worse. The only thing is, the damned situation won’t turn into a cold case—because these perps show no signs of stopping!”
Wyatt nodded.
“Get out of here. Before someone sees you.”
He nodded. Time to head back to his own place, grab a few hours of sleep, and get back over to Jessy’s place.
He winced. He realized that he didn’t want to go home.
He wanted to go straight over to the Danson ranch.
Because Jessy was there now. And he sure as hell didn’t want her hurt!
He grimaced. It was a horrible position to be in. Because seeing Jessy again, being with her, getting to know the adult version of the beautiful child he’d loved to torment . . .
It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter who she was. He’d protect a victim with his own life no matter what, but . . .
He had to also remember that whatever he discovered, his actions had to be within the law.
But . . .
There was something more. He hadn’t wanted their names out on anything that had to do with the discovery of Chrissie Dunworth in the old bunker in the field.
He wasn’t worried about himself. Dealing with criminals was what he did.
But he was deeply concerned when it came to Jessy. He’d told himself the ranch was a crowded house—even if David Benson was guilty of something, he was surrounded by Cody, Samantha, Tate, and Eddie.
He wouldn’t pull anything off at the Danson ranch. He wouldn’t try. While the ranch hands didn’t walk around armed all the time, they all had guns, which was legal in Colorado.
And they knew how to use them. Something that came about when you lived with horses, cows, and other creatures far from the busy streets of a town where police might be frequently cruising around.
Out here, carrying a gun might equal survival. Not that bad things occurred often. The point was that they could occur.
So . . .
Jessy would most probably only be in any danger if she went off the property. He had to make sure she wasn’t off the property—unless she was with him. And of course, her parents would be coming in.
But how much could they protect her? Her mother was a teacher. Her father was a brilliant tech fellow who had now lived in a major city for years and years.
No, they could be victimized as easily as Chrissie and her mom had been.
Jessy was safe, he told himself, as long as she was at the ranch.
Unless, of course, they were all in on it?
He gave himself a mental shake. Unlikely. Oh, so unlikely!
But still . . .
What if?
Jessy was glad she’d never made a set time to meet with Jenson Applegate.
She was surprised that she managed to drag herself up after about four and a half hours of sleep.
She could shower and dress in a flash; she did so, then hurried downstairs to discover that Cody, Samantha, and Jenson were all there. And when she appeared on the stairs, they burst into applause.
She stared at them, stunned.
“We all heard what you did!”
Jenson told her.
“Jessy! Do you realize what you did? You saved a life! There was a press conference earlier. Don’t worry—they didn’t give your names out, but they said the actions of a few citizens saved that poor girl’s life! Oh, Jessy, your grandfather would be so proud of you! You were so heroic!”
“Well, thank you,”
Jessy said.
“But I wasn’t heroic at all. I just started thinking about outbuildings, and I was really wrong. She was in a bunker beneath the ground. We got lucky—”
“But there would have been no getting lucky if you hadn’t thought to go out there!”
Cody said.
“Seriously, Jessy, you are . . . well . . .”
He broke off, looking at Jenson.
“I think that I know what we’re up to here, Jessy. And I know you’re doing the best that you can for everyone. But you want to leave. You want to live in New York—”
“I’ll come back!”
she promised.
“There hasn’t been a year in my life when I haven’t been out here a few times—”
“Because your grandfather was alive,”
Samantha said.
Jessy hesitated, then told Jenson.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you this yet. I talked to my folks yesterday. They’re due out here the day after tomorrow.”
Jenson frowned.
“You—you’d like to wait on your father for our business meeting?” he asked.
“Yeah, I would. Nothing here is going to change!”
she assured him.
“Sam has always managed the house. Cody, you keep everything going great with the horses, with our breeding program, with sales! I know you even check out the people who come to buy one of our horses; you make sure that our animals are going to good homes. Nothing will change!”
Jenson looked at her and nodded slowly.
He smiled.
“Tomorrow, then. Hey, Samantha just put out a great-looking sandwich board. Thought I was going to be skipping lunch. I’m on my way into the dining room.”
“Me, too,”
Cody said.
“Well, then! I will join you all!”
Jessy said with a smile.
Wyatt wasn’t due at the house until four, and since she’d slept through the concept of breakfast, and it might be quite a while until dinner, lunch sounded good.
But she hadn’t made it all the way to the dining room when there was a tap at the door.
“Got it!”
Samantha said, hurrying over to look through the peephole, smile, and open the door.
Wyatt had come early.
“Sorry!”
he said to Jessy as he stepped in.
“I’m early. I was awake so—”
“Wait! He gets applause, too!”
Jenson proclaimed, and they all broke into applause.
“It was all Jessy!”
Wyatt said with a shrug, grinning at her.
“Oh, and it’s information we’re not putting out there!”
“Got it!”
Cody said.
“We don’t want any of those sickies to come after our Jessy!”
“It’s just best to keep it all in-house,”
Wyatt said.
“We were about to have lunch,”
Jessy said.
“Want to join us?”
“Wow—great! Now I’m delighted I came early,”
he said.
“Sam, I’m not going to be putting anyone out—”
“Oh, come on, Wyatt McFarlane!”
Samantha said.
“How long have you known me? Of course there’s plenty, and you’re always welcome to join us!”
They all wandered into the dining room. David Benson and Eddie Andrews were already in the larger dining room, where Samantha had set out bread, crackers, cheeses, meats, and a bowl filled with fresh fruits. They looked up when they were joined by the others, and David was quick to greet them, saying.
“Wow! Look, Eddie, we’re being joined by our new boss and local heroine—and the hero next door! Yeah, guys!”
“Well, thanks!”
Wyatt answered.
“So, everyone here knows. But—”
“Oh! We know not to say anything to anyone else,”
Eddie assured him.
“Thanks, good,”
Wyatt said.
“Well, I guess our gang is all here—except for Tate,”
Jessy said.
“One of us always spells the others,”
Cody told her.
“Even at night; I thought you knew that. Tate is out with the horses; he’ll come in as soon as one of us heads out.”
“I guess I forgot,”
Jessy said. She smiled. They didn’t have a dog as big and fierce looking as Wyatt’s Bandit, but they had two German shepherds on the property, and they were quick to give warning that someone had come.
“I guess that I always think of Misty and Morgan as being on the job.”
“And they are the best!”
Cody assured her.
“We’ve just always liked to keep on the alert, you know. It wasn’t that big a deal, but about six years ago, someone slipped in at night and hit the Holliston ranch down the road a couple of miles. Opened the gates in the night and stole a few of the old man’s prized bulls. Anyway . . . we listen for Misty and Morgan, and just keep an eye open. It’s not that hard. We shift the schedule around, because we do kind of have social lives.”
Eddie laughed.
“‘Kind of’—that explains it! But hey, the rodeo is coming up, Jessy. That’s something you do need to decide. You going to ride this year?”
“Wow. Um, just give me tonight to think on that, okay? I won’t have a chance to get out there anyway, today. My dad has been cleared to travel. He and my mom are coming. Wyatt and I are going to go and pick out a tree at the tree farm, come back, and oh! If one of you can get up into the attic and bring down the decorations, that would be great!”
“Will do!”
Eddie assured her.
“And you’re all standing around staring at one another. Eat!”
Samantha ordered.
Grins followed her words, and they began passing around the plates that held all the different goodies that Samantha had put out for them.
Cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes worked just fine for Jessy. She saw that at her side, Wyatt grinned.
And he created a similar sandwich, opting for an apple when she picked out an orange.
The talk around the table was casual at first. David was extolling an action film he’d seen in Colorado Springs the previous weekend, and Cody was talking about the fact how he was grateful that these days, everything came to TV eventually and he could just kick back and watch.
“That’s ’cause you’re an old man!”
David told Cody.
“You’re not that much younger!”
Cody reminded David.
“I think you hit the big five-oh last year—oh, wait, that was three years ago, and I’m just a handsome and charming forty-six!”
David said, laughing.
“Still hopeful that romance is out there somewhere. And I’m not going to find it here with you sorry dudes!”
“Ah, but wait!”
Cody argued.
“We had a pretty young thing out here just last week with her pretty, older cousin!”
“I don’t think she really wanted to buy a horse,”
David said.
“I think she met our boy toy, Mr. Eddie Andrews, there, at Murphy’s Pub one night and wanted to see if she could . . . well, you know! See the boy again.”
Eddie groaned.
“Her father is Ned Tyson, winner of many a rodeo championship. She did want to see our horses.”
“Well, there, see, it still doesn’t hurt having a young buck on the property who can keep us all . . . busy!”
Cody said.
“Ah, you like Murphy’s, huh?”
Wyatt said to Eddie.
“We didn’t see you there last night.”
“Yeah, sorry, I knew you were playing. But the old coot over there had me on night duty!”
Eddie said.
“Next time. But hey! You got out there, right? That’s where you two were before you headed out . . . to save that girl!”
“We were at the pub, yeah; and it’s still a great place to go,”
Jessy said.
“Next time you have a gig,”
Eddie said, holding up a piece of bread as if he could keep Cody from hearing his teasing words.
“I’ll have you speak to the old coot here and get him to make sure I’m not on night duty!”
Cody groaned, and they all laughed.
Soon enough, they’d finished lunch and Wyatt looked at Jessy. “Ready?”
“Onward to purchase a tree,”
she said, adding.
“Wyatt, honestly, I mean, I could do this by myself—”
“And it’s more fun if we do it together. The tree farm offers this super little place, too, where they have great hot chocolate. Naturally, it’s good business sense. People come from all around to head out there. You pick out your tree—and sip hot chocolate while the employees get it strapped onto your car. They do it all day for days on end, so they’re really good at it. But I brought one of the trucks today, so we don’t even need to worry about a stranger scratching up a good vehicle or a rented car,”
he told her.
“Okay! Tree time, and thank you!”
Jessy told him.
“Sam, guys—”
“Happy hunting!”
Cody said.
“And I’ll head on out with you so that Tate can come on in and get his food.”
They walked out together. Misty and Morgan had been running around the front pasture, but seeing Wyatt, Cody, and Jessy emerge from the house, they came leaping through the slats in the fence to greet them.
Jessy was always amazed that the dogs remembered her. They were comparatively young, from the same litter, about six years old now.
There had always been dogs—shepherds usually—at the ranch. Her grandfather had adored dogs and thought there was nothing quite as good as a dog for protection—despite Cody having someone on guard duty all the time.
She gave the dogs loving pets. Cody warned them to behave, and Wyatt gave them attention as well.
Then she and Wyatt waved to Cody and headed out to Wyatt’s truck.
“You must not have slept long,”
Jessy told him as he revved the truck into gear.
He shrugged.
“I’ve never been able to sleep during the day.”
“Even when you’re up all night?”
He shrugged, looking at her.
“Well, you were up and about when I got here.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m not much on sleeping during the day, either. So, this tree farm is not far?”
“Five miles. We’ll be there in no time. Even if we are on country roads. Oh, wow, hmm. Country road! I’ll play some John Denver. Of course, the country road he’s singing about is West Virginia, but . . .”
She laughed.
“John Denver. One of my dad’s favorites. Go for it!”
“Great! Compare me to your dad.”
“Hey, I love my dad. And tons of old music!”
she assured him. She glanced over at him. He was smiling, but she sensed something behind his smile.
Just as she sensed several times that . . .
That there was something she didn’t know. Something he wasn’t telling her.
“What?” he asked.
“You’re suspicious.”
“I’m suspicious?”
“Yeah, I keep thinking there’s something I should know, but I don’t.”
He laughed.
“Hey, I’m not married. I swear. If and when I do get married, I won’t be following other women around.”
“Aha! So, you are following me around!”
He groaned. “Jessy—”
“Now, come on, my friend. Tall, dark, and handsome. Cool as ever with his guitar! You mean to tell me you’re not seeing anyone?”
He laughed.
“I’m not going to tell you that I’ve never seen anyone, but no, I’m not seeing anyone now.”
He shrugged.
“Business. I’ve had to travel a lot lately. I also work with a studio in Colorado Springs—”
“How does that make you travel?”
“Oh, well, not that. But we have all kinds of contracts with companies who purchase our milk, cheese, and other products. I wind up being on the road a lot.”
“But you’re here—mostly. Or at your condo in the Keys?”
“I wish I could be at the condo way more than I am.”
“Yeah, but that’s cool, since you’re going to be lending it to me!”
He groaned.
“It would be fun if we could be there at the same time. Oh, but wait! I just realized that I should be asking the same questions. There isn’t a Mr. Jessy anywhere?”
She laughed softly.
“Not married. And same answer. I’ve seen people, of course. But . . . no one ever seriously. I work alone most of the time. And the author I work with most often—the children’s author on that book you say you bought—”
“I did buy it.”
“Well, thanks. Anyway, the author is a friend of mine. We get out now and then, but we’re just friends and have never been more. I know his wife, and she’s a doll. Oh, yeah, I get to gallery openings—”
“Speaking of which, there’s a gallery opening in Colorado Springs next week. You should get something in it!”
“Wyatt, if the opening is next week, the show is already planned,”
she told him.
“And I will definitely get in to see it! But the rodeo is Saturday, and Christmas will be Tuesday right after, so . . .”
“The rodeo is Saturday; we can go to the opening on Sunday. It’s a weekend deal.”
“You don’t need to go to a gallery opening just because of me.”
He looked her way, smiling.
“But I’d love to go to a gallery opening with you. You could keep me from making any stupid comments.”
She laughed.
“Somehow, I have the feeling that you can go just about anywhere and fit right in—and not make stupid comments.”
“Can’t count on that!”
he told her. And then he glanced her way.
And there was something in his eyes, in his look . . .
That seemed honest.
“I’d love to go anywhere with you,”
he said softly.
And he meant it, she realized.
It was too insane! She hadn’t seen him for years. Yes, he’d been a childhood crush, but just that. And now, they had barely even touched, and she loved every minute spent in his company and wanted more, and it seemed as if . . .
As if she had slipped back into something that was perfect and natural, and yet it was a place where, in truth, she had never been before.
Coming home. But she wasn’t home, New York was home, and yet . . .
Home would never really be a where.
She gave herself a mental shake. She had discovered that the teen who had teased her had grown into an incredible man. And it was nice to be with him, and they’d had some intense moments in a very short period of time.
And there was nothing wrong with enjoying her time with him while she was here!
“Well, a tree! The objective for now!”
“And we’re almost there,” he said.
She could see the property ahead of them, a huge field covered with Christmas trees of various sizes. As they drove closer, she saw the driveway that led to parking—and a rectangular building that apparently offered a fireplace and more within.
“Tree first,”
Wyatt said, exiting the truck.
Jessy quickly slid out herself, walking around to join him. He pointed to the path that led into the grove of trees.
She smiled; it was easy to see that she was late in the season—many people, she knew, liked to decorate for Christmas when Thanksgiving was barely over. Of course, most people did decorate before now.
“Big tree, medium tree? I mean, it’s your tree, but I’m going to suggest a fairly large tree, not a little one, because if it’s a little tree, it might disappear in the size of the ranch house. I can see where it would go—your call, of course—but there’s a great spot by that old Duncan Phyfe sofa in the parlor against the wall, far enough from the fireplace and easy enough to stack with presents. Hmm. I just realized that I haven’t been Christmas shopping. Ouch. Well, thankfully, there are places that deliver overnight!”
Jessy groaned.
“Christmas, and I didn’t even think about . . . I’m horrible! I guess that I was finishing up on a deadline, my grandfather was failing, and I was spending time with him. Then he died, and . . . I mean, he was old and he was happy and he felt that he’d been gifted with a beautiful life. I got to hold his hand, and he was peaceful, and I guess . . .”
“No matter how beautiful his life, how peaceful his death, you loved him, and you missed him. And then you came out here just a few weeks later; that’s a lot!”
Wyatt said.
“Well, it’s been almost a month,”
Jessy murmured.
“He was with us on Thanksgiving, and the . . . It was almost as if he waited for that last Thanksgiving! Anyway, as his granddaughter, I need to make sure that the staff gets their presents—”
“The ranch made money—it’s always made money,”
Wyatt assured her.
“I can suggest you just give the staff money—that’s always appreciated!”
“Yeah, but my mom and dad are coming . . . and I do have friends back in New York!”
“And when you’re back in New York, you can take care of that. Look, there—it’s perfect. Well, I think it’s perfect. Not huge, but nice and full. So what do you think?”
“It’s—perfect.”
“Ah, good. Great minds think alike, eh?”
he teased.
Maybe too much.
“It’s, um, a tree!”
she said.
“Anyway, let’s go with it! I’m ready for my hot chocolate now!”
One of the men working the farm hurried over to them, and Wyatt pointed out the tree. He was given a coupon to pay for it, and Wyatt described his truck.
The tree would be delivered to the vehicle.
They turned and headed back to the building. There was one free table, and Wyatt suggested she take it while he dealt with the tree.
“But it’s my tree. I need to pay—”
“Like you said, it’s a tree! I’ve got it. Just order me a large hot chocolate—oh, they’ll put a shot of espresso in it. That might be good now. And they make amazing Christmas shortbread. We could be like kids again with hot chocolate and cookies!”
He steered her toward the table and left her.
The place was nice. A fire was burning, and the mantel was handsomely decorated with strands of ivy and flowers. People sat about chatting in the warmth of the room, and for a minute, it was nice to just sit back.
When he headed back to the table, Wyatt had a strange look on his face. He was grinning.
He took the chair next to hers, leaned over, and planted a quick kiss on her lips.
She was startled, to say the least.
Not offended or angry, just . . .
“Sorry!”
he said lightly.
“You sat right under the mistletoe!”
She started to laugh. And without thinking, she leaned over the table and kissed him back.
Her kiss just a little slower and longer, a little wetter . . .
It was, after all, a public place.
But when she pulled away . . .
She knew.
The intimate touches they had shared were something they had both wanted, even if they both wondered how and why.
A prelude, perhaps, to . . .
Much, much more.