plenty of trouble here already, she thought—trouble she wanted nothing to do with.
Tracy strode away a few paces to gather her emotions, Keegan figured. He needed a moment to collect his, as well. Even just being near his father brought it all back: his abandonment of Keegan’s mother, his flat-out accusations that she was a liar until the paternity test proved him to be the father. Keegan had been ten at the time she’d forced the test, the beginning of his mother’s battle against breast cancer. She’d gotten a pittance of child support out of Bryce Larraby by the time she’d lost her life to cancer when Keegan was sixteen. Father Dearest hadn’t even had the decency to attend Keegan’s mother’s funeral.
He forced his fisted hands to relax and went after Tracy.
Standing next to a decorated Christmas tree, she looked even smaller. As he came up next to her, she gasped, arms rigid as if she’d received an electric shock. He wondered for a moment if she was about to have a seizure, so he reached out for her, but she grabbed him first, hands clutching his forearms, face stark white.
“I remember this tree. Keegan, I remember it.”
He could feel the cold from her fingers seeping through his shirtsleeve. “What exactly? Tell me.”
“I remember running by it. I was scared. Terrified.” Her mouth was tight with the memory. “He was after me—the killer. I brushed by this tree and an ornament fell off and broke. It was a silver ball with gold beads glued onto it. It shattered on the floor.”
“Can you remember his face? The guy who was after you?”
She closed her eyes, breathing hard. After several seconds she opened them, deflated. “No,” she said. “I can’t.”
He let her breathe a few times to expel some of the fear before he gently pushed her aside and started hunting around the bottom of the tree. “Maybe there are shards. It won’t be proof enough for the cops, but let me see if I can find a piece to corroborate your details.”
Underneath the tree was a flannel tree skirt in a bright holiday plaid, which concealed a water reservoir. Other than a pile of needles and an ornament hook, he found nothing, no sign that anything had broken.
She studied the branches. The ornaments were laid out at precise intervals, all silver orbs with gold beading, except for one. It was a subtle difference, but the one nearest the bottom was a plain silver ball.
“Someone replaced it,” Tracy said.
Keegan grabbed a tissue from the box on the reception counter and reached for the ornament. “I’ll put it in a bag and have it checked for prints. I have a friend who can do it.”
“No, you won’t.”
They whirled to find John Larraby glowering down at them. “That’s my job. I’ll do it, if you give me a reasonable explanation of why I should bother.”
“I broke it as I ran, and someone hung a new one in its place,” Tracy told the chief.
“You remember that detail now?”
She nodded.
Regina called to them from the doorway. “Are you coming, Miss Wilson? The horse is ready.”
Keegan put an arm around Tracy’s trembling shoulders. “You don’t have to do this.”
She swallowed hard. “I’m okay.” Gently she detached herself from his grasp. “I’m ready,” she called to Regina, following her out the front doors.
John grabbed another tissue and retrieved the ornament from the tree.
“Be sure it doesn’t get lost,” Keegan said.
John’s expression hardened to cement. “Don’t mess with me, Keegan.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, brother, not unless you give me reason to.”
Keegan thumbed back his hat and walked away.
Tracy tried hard not to show that her knees were still wobbly as she followed Regina to the arena. She took a stab at being friendly. “Have you worked here long?”
“Since they broke ground. I tend to my stable duties and Bryce put me in charge of the front office part-time.” Pride crept into her tone. “I love it, love my work. Even met my fiancé here, plan to stay forever, if they’ll have me.”
“Congratulations on your engagement. Do you have a date picked out?”
“Not yet. Things keep getting in the way.” Her tone was dark. “Why do you care anyway?”
“Just being friendly.”
The woman rounded on her. “Let’s cut through the garbage, shall we? You’re an outsider. You have no reason to be friendly to some stable hand you just met. So what are you after, exactly?”
“After?”
“With this murder story. What are you angling for? Money? From Bryce Larraby?”
“I’m not after anybody’s money. I’m telling the truth.”
Regina hooked her thumbs in her belt loops. She was tall, arms wiry and muscled, dark eyes brimming with anger. “Just so you know, Bryce Larraby is a great man. He’s done awesome things for this town and me personally. Busted my wrist in the summer doing some rock climbing, and he kept me on and even paid me while I was on leave. Every single person who works here would do anything to protect him, especially me.”
Anything? Including lying about a murder? She stood straighter. “I want nothing from Bryce Larraby.”
“Yeah? Coming here with a story that could tarnish our event? With Keegan, who’s got a massive chip on his shoulder?”
“Like I said, I told the truth and I have no ulterior motive.”
“Well, Keegan does—he’d love to destroy Bryce, so keep that in mind. Mitch told me all about how his mother tried to weasel money out of him after she seduced him while he was married to John’s mother. He’ll use you and anyone else to get back at his dad.”
Use you. She looked at Regina full on. “Thank you for your advice. Now I’d like to get to work, if that’s okay with you.”
Regina shook her head, which sent her earrings flashing gold against her curls. “I have some chores to do. See your own way out when you’re done.”
Tracy tried to get her rapid breathing under control. How had she earned herself another enemy already? That had to be some kind of a record.
She knew part of Regina’s comments were true. Keegan did have an enormous chip on his shoulder. He’ll use you...to get back at his dad. If that was true, it was a top-notch reason to get her business done at the Mother Lode and get out.
The arena was clean and well lit, the electric lights on the vaulted ceiling overhead illuminating the soft dirt floor, which was newly raked, from the looks of it. On one side of the arena was a towering stack of baled hay that lent a fresh smell to the space. She breathed in deeply to
