and something swooped inside her stomach. “Keeping close tabs on me?”
She ignored the strange sensation. “Braden is a small community. And I happen to know her grandson pretty well.”
“Dating him, are you?”
She couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped. “Since he’s not legally an adult, hardly. Haven’t even had a date in—” She broke off, appalled at herself, embarrassed by the speculative look he was giving her. She pointed, absurdly grateful for Mrs. Gunderson’s timely reappearance on her front porch. Her neighbor was holding something in her hand, waving it in the air as she came down the steps. “There’s the treat.”
And sure enough, before his mistress had even gotten to the street, Mignon was scrabbling out from beneath the trailer, practically rolling over his feet as he bolted.
Ryder straightened and gave her that faint smile again. The one that barely curved his well-shaped lips, but still managed to reveal his dimple. “Never underestimate the power of a good treat.”
Then he thumbed the brim of his hat in that way he had of doing. Sort of old-fashioned and, well, rancherly. He walked around his truck and climbed inside. A moment later, he’d started the engine and was driving away.
Mrs. Gunderson picked up Mignon, who was happily gnawing on his piece of doggy jerky, and stood next to Greer. “He’s a good-looking one, isn’t he?”
At least her elderly neighbor could explain away her breathlessness. She’d had to climb her porch stairs to retrieve the dog treats.
Greer, on the other hand, had no such excuse. “He’s surprising, anyway.” She gave Mignon’s head a scratch. “I’ve got to go call my dad before he drives out to haul my car that no longer needs hauling.”
Then she hurried inside, pretending not to hear Mrs. Gunderson’s knowing chuckle.
“Ryder Wilson towed your truck?”
Greer tucked her office phone against her shoulder. “Hey, Maddie. Hold on.” She didn’t wait for her sister to reply, but clicked over to the other phone call while she scrolled through the emails on her computer. It was Monday morning. She wished she could say it was unusual coming in to find fifty emails all requiring immediate attention. The fact was, coming in to only fifty emails was a good start to a week.
“Mrs. Pyle, as I explained to your son last week, Judge Donnelly has refused another continuance in Anthony’s case. He’s already granted two, which is unusual. Your grandson’s trial is going to be on Thursday and my associate Don Chatham will be handling it. He’s our senior attorney, as you know, and handles most of the jury trials.” After she had handled all the other steps, including negotiating plea deals. Which the prosecutor’s office wasn’t offering to Anthony this go-round.
Not surprising. It was an election year.
“I know Judge Donnelly.” Doreen Pyle sounded tearful. “I can’t be in court on Thursday. If I just went to him and asked—”
She shook her head, even though Doreen couldn’t see. “I advise you not to speak directly to the judge, Mrs. Pyle.”
“Then schedule a different date! You know how unreliable my son is. Anthony needs his family there. If his father would have told me last week, I could have made arrangements. But I have to work!”
Doreen Pyle worked for Ryder Wilson.
Greer pressed her fingertips between her eyes to relieve the pain that had suddenly formed there and sighed. The only adult Anthony truly had in his corner was his grandmother. “I’ll see what I can do, Mrs. Pyle. I’ll call you later this afternoon. All right?”
“Thank you, Greer. Thank you so much.”
She highly doubted that Mrs. Pyle would be thanking her later. “Don’t get your hopes up too high,” she warned before jabbing the blinking button on her phone to switch back to the other call.
“Sorry about that, Maddie.” She sent off a two-line response to the email on her computer screen and started composing a new one to the prosecutor’s office. She wouldn’t present a motion to the court until the prosecutor agreed to another delay. “You all recovered from the baby shower?”
“The only thing that’ll help me recover fully from anything these days will be going into labor. About Ryder—”
“Yes, he towed my truck.” She switched the phone to her other shoulder and opened the desk drawer where she kept her active files. “I suppose Ali told you?” She’d caught their father before he’d made a needless trip out to Devil’s Crossing but she hadn’t told him the finer details of who’d taken care of the chore.
She pulled out the file she was seeking and flipped it open on her desk. Anthony Pyle. Seventeen. Charged with property destruction and defacement. It was his second charge and he was being tried in adult court. Anthony and his grandmother had good cause for worry since he was facing more than six months in jail if convicted.
Greer doubted that his father, Rocky, cared all that much about what happened. He provided for the basic needs of his son, but beyond that, the troubled boy was pretty much on his own. Rocky had told Greer outright that Anthony deserved what he got. Didn’t matter to his father at all that the boy had consistently proclaimed his innocence. That the real culprit was his supposed friend—and the son of the man who owned the barn that had nearly burned down.
“Ali? No.”
Greer held back a sigh. If Grant had told his wife that he’d seen Ryder with her, there was no way that Ali would have stayed quiet about it. And the fact that Grant hadn’t told Ali just meant that he was still conflicted over everything that had happened with his sister.
“You know how news gets around,” Maddie said.
In other words, Mrs. Gunderson had told someone she’d seen Ryder towing her car, and that someone had told someone, and so on and so forth.
Greer forestalled her sister’s next question, knowing it was coming. “Ryder didn’t have Layla with him.”
“I heard. Did you know that his latest nanny quit on him?”
Greer’s fingers paused on her computer keyboard. Doreen hadn’t mentioned that. “That’s the fourth one.”
“Third,” Maddie corrected. “Ray has been keeping track.”
Greer spotted Keith Gowler in the hallway outside her office and waved to get his attention. He was one of the local private attorneys who took cases on behalf of the public defender’s office because they were perpetually overworked and understaffed. “Is Ray concerned?”
“Not that he’s said. We have no reason to think Layla’s not being properly cared for.”
“That’s probably why Ryder was anxious to get moving the other evening, then. Doreen must have been watching Layla.” And that was why she was upset about not being available for her grandson’s trial.
“She’s
