is the life source of the Fortune clan—”
Vanessa stepped forward and laid a comforting hand on her brother’s arm when he stopped abruptly.
“I think I could kill whoever did this with my bare hands,” he said after a few seconds.
Vanessa had never seen her brother’s eyes so filled with murderous intent. While her other brothers, Zane and Dallas, had often threatened bodily harm to her and her twin Victoria, who had tormented them about their dates, Matthew had always been the quieter brother, the kinder, gentler one, while they were growing up. He had comforted her and her sister when their mother had died, although he had been seventeen at the time, only five years older than the girls.
She was also aware that Devin Kincaid took in every word, every nuance of emotion that was taking place. For a second she resented his cool detachment. But he had a job to do, and she understood that. She wanted to help him.
“I have the guest list from the christening,” she told him, adopting his business-like manner. “Do you want it?”
“Sheriff Grayhawk gave me a copy. He also gave me a list of everyone who works here at the house. I want to talk to those people first. Do you know who was on the premises?”
“Yes. With so many guests, everyone worked that day.”
Dev nodded, then dismissed Matthew. “You’ll leave numbers where you can be reached at all times?”
Matthew handed over his card after scribbling his cell phone and hospital numbers on the back. After he left the room, Vanessa went to her desk. She picked up the list she had been working on earlier.
“I want to know where everyone that you noticed was around the time of the kidnapping,” Dev said.
“I’ve already done that.” At his glance, she smiled grimly. “I do know something about criminal investigations.”
“Huh,” was his succinct comment.
He obviously didn’t take her seriously. She stifled the urge to argue with him about it. He would, given time, she vowed. Devin Kincaid, tough FBI agent, would take her very seriously before they were through with each other.
“Let’s go over your lists,” he said, his tone patient, polite. Sergeant Joe Friday, on the job.
Cruz Perez was angry. Vanessa could identify with the feeling. She wasn’t very happy, either.
“Who the hell does he think he is?” he demanded.
“The FBI,” she snapped, in no mood to put up with his temper as well as her own irritation at being excluded from the questioning. Dev had set up office in her father’s study and allowed no one in while he questioned witnesses. She had been relegated to the role of gofer as he finished with one person and wanted the next brought to him. She had no idea what questions he asked that took so long with each person. And no one would tell her.
“That’s my mother in there,” Cruz snarled. Cruz was the horse trainer at the ranch. His mother was the housekeeper.
As if she didn’t know. Personally Vanessa had been shocked when Dev had handed her the list of people he wanted to question when he’d arrived back at the ranch first thing that morning. She’d also been miffed that he hadn’t taken advantage of their offer of a room. Surely that would have speeded things along.
“If he thinks he can connect her or anyone in my family to the kidnapping, he can think again.”
Cruz glared at her, his dark good looks dangerous and exciting as his anger erupted. However, since she had known him all her life—he was four years her senior—she wasn’t at all worried or impressed.
“No one thinks that—”
The door opened. “Thank you, Mrs. Perez,” Dev said in his even tone. His gaze went from the housekeeper, who had been on the ranch since before Vanessa was born, to slide over Vanessa and on to Cruz.
“I’ll send lunch in,” Rosita promised warmly.
“That would be kind of you.” Dev spoke to Cruz. “Cruz Perez? Please come in. Thank you for coming.”
The door closed in Vanessa’s face. For the fourth time that morning.
Dev had first talked to her father at length and without her presence, then Ruben Perez, Rosita’s husband and the ranch foreman, then Rosita, and now Cruz. She was nearing the screaming point—
“Come,” Rosita said, her dark eyes filling with amusement. “He wants to have lunch with you.”
Vanessa’s chin dropped in surprise. “He does?”
“You know he does,” Rosita said wisely.
She led the way to the kitchen where two women busied themselves between the huge stove and wall of double ovens. The smell of baking bread filled the air as usual on Friday morning. By Monday, the fresh loaves would be gone and new ones would be baked to get them through the week.
The kitchen had been the twins’ favorite place after the death of their mother. Rosita had taught them to cook everything from crown roast to homemade tortillas. She had also taught them that grief could be bearable when shared.
“Whole or half?” Rosita asked, referring to the loaf of bread she was slicing.
“Half,” Vanessa said.
While Rosita prepared a whole sandwich for Dev and a half one for her, Vanessa arranged their dishes on a tray, including the salads and cups of tortilla soup for each of them. She wasn’t sure if she should allow herself to be mollified at being included during lunch or if she should give him the silent treatment for not letting her take part in the questioning.
She sighed heavily.
Rosita poured tall glasses of iced tea. “Next time you have hot tea, I will read the leaves for you.”
“Do you think you’ll see anything?” As a child, Vanessa had always wanted to know the future.
The housekeeper had finally told her she was a very mysterious person and nothing could be seen in her future, except that it would be fun and filled with adventure.
But that had been Victoria’s future. Her twin, a pediatric nurse, was the one off on an adventure, teaching health and helping children on some tiny island republic off the coast of South America. Vanessa liked things closer to home.
Carefully carrying the tray back to the study, Vanessa had a sudden yearning to see her twin and confide all the hopes and misgivings of her heart. Only Victoria would understand completely…
“Come in,” Dev called when she tapped the door with the toe of her shoe.
“I can’t open the door,” she muttered, and heard the note of complaint in her tone. Right. How to win friends and influence your enemies: be a grouch.
The heavy portal opened. She entered the study. “Clear the desk,” she ordered.
He stacked his papers neatly to one side. She balanced the tray on the corner of the desk and
