shook his head, then went back to staring out over the land. In the vast pastures that spread beyond the creek at the foot of the ledge to the horizon, he could see hundreds of cattle grazing peacefully.
Fifty thousand head. Five thousand horses. Anywhere from fifty to a hundred cowboys, according to the season. But most of them were scattered around the half-million acre ranch, too far away to have been involved in the family’s affairs.
When she laid a hand on his thigh, he nearly jumped out of his skin as lightning sizzled through his veins. He pushed her hand away.
“I’ve written a profile of the kidnapping,” she said.
She pulled a slip of paper from her breast pocket and handed it to him. It was warm from her body and burned his fingers with the magic fire that came only from her. He forced himself to read her notes.
Well-planned and executed, indicating insider information.
Two people, possibly three or four, involved.
Leader is crafty and willing to play games for bigger stakes. Controls accomplices who are probably younger and willing to take more risks.
Someone used to children is taking care of baby and may have called Matthew. This could be their weak link.
Her handwriting was neat with evenly looped letters, but the impatience was revealed in the flying slashes that crossed the t’s and the dots that were near the i’s but didn’t line up with them. There was strength and decisiveness evident in the bold strokes, a certain confidence that could edge over into family pride—or perhaps snobbishness, although he admitted that wasn’t really true of her—in the tall capital letters, a gentleness as well as an unexpected vulnerability in the rounded strokes. He would have known it was her handwriting without being told.
And that her background was privileged, that she was used to getting her own way and that she wasn’t for him, no matter what wild imaginings occupied his dreams. He sighed and finished off the lemonade in the battered tin cup.
“Let’s go,” he said, and stood.
She took the cups and rinsed them out in the pan of water from the seep, then replaced them on the rocky shelf. Every move she made was poised and graceful. If he didn’t watch it, he would stare at her, spellbound when he was supposed to be concentrating on finding clues. Vanessa Fortune wasn’t good for his investigative abilities.
She turned and looked at him at that moment. Her eyes were tear-bright. “If we don’t find him, Baby Bryan will never know the ranch or how to ride. He’ll never know his family… He may never grow to manhood or know his first kiss…” She shook her head helplessly.
“We’ll find him.”
“How?”
He looked away from her despair. “We start with everyone who had an opportunity. Then we assign motives, no matter how bizarre, then we see who fits the picture.”
“We look for a pattern.”
He realized she’d had enough psychology to grasp his thinking. “Yes. No one does anything out of the blue, as most people seem to think. There are plenty of warnings. In this case, the puzzle pieces are there. It’s up to us to find them and put them together.”
“So we start with opportunity and motive.”
Her eyes brightened with determination once more. Something in him that he hadn’t known existed, that had been tight and concerned each time he saw her distress, suddenly breathed easier. He pulled back from the emotional brink. “I start. You stay out of my way.”
This time he ignored the way her expressive eyes darkened with hurt. He had a kidnapping and enough Fortunes to contend with to last a lifetime. He didn’t need her.
Vanessa joined her father and Lily in the courtyard at six o’clock. She poured a cool glass of champagne and took a seat across from Lily. “How are things going for you?”
“Fine,” her stepmother-to-be replied with a kind smile. “You look tired. Your father said there’s nothing new in the case. It must be doubly discouraging for you.”
Her father sat beside Lily on the swing and dropped an arm around her shoulders. Their glance at each other was filled with love and mutual concern. Vanessa felt tears well near the surface. She blinked them back with an effort and took a sip.
“Is Maria living with you?” Vanessa asked. “I meant to ask her out to visit, but with the investigation…” She gestured vaguely to indicate a lack of time. Or interest, she admitted. She had no time for idle social visits. Or Lily’s daughter. She had never been close to Maria.
Lily looked troubled. “No, she’s rented a trailer and is looking for a job, she says. I really haven’t seen much of her since her return. She doesn’t seem to want company.”
“We can’t control our children’s lives,” Ryan murmured reassuringly to his fiancée.
She sighed and patted his hand that rested on her shoulder. “I know, but parents always worry, don’t they?”
“Yes.”
Vanessa saw her father’s concern reflected in his eyes. She wondered if he was thinking of Matthew and Claudia. The tension between them was thicker than cream. She would have thought the tragedy would draw them closer, but she knew that most parents who lost a child ended up separated if not divorced.
Her thoughts drifting, she gazed at the sunset sky above the hacienda roof. She wanted several children. At least four.
At that moment Dev appeared at the great room door with Rosita, who indicated the family gathering under the vine-covered trellis. Her father stood.
“Come join us,” he called. “What can I get you?”
“Iced tea would be fine.” Dev crossed the flagstones and greeted Lily, then Vanessa, in his courteous manner.
He was dressed in the FBI uniform of dark suit, white shirt and conservative tie. She hadn’t seen him in hours, not since their excursion by horseback at midday.
Her father handed him the glass of tea.
“Thank you, sir.” He stood until the older man was seated, then took a chair to her left, a careful distance between them. He was so damn polite she wanted to scream.
“You have news to report?” her father asked.
“Not anything significant. The cowboy who was here but left the day of the kidnapping hasn’t been found. No trace of him on the rodeo circuit, which he said he was going to follow, has shown up, not under the name he used here, at any rate. Mr. Perez said the man hasn’t done seasonal work here before. He didn’t know who had recommended the cowboy. I wondered if you knew.”
She watched Dev as her father explained that the new guy had been sent by another hand who usually worked for them during spring count and the fall selloff, but who couldn’t make it that year. As usual, Dev’s face was impassive while her father recounted the facts.
Finished, her father settled back in the swing and dropped his arm around Lily’s shoulders again. The two were always close,
