here.” Abby stood, and looked at the phone number in her hand. She was on a mission to find her sister. If this Clay person could help, then why not call him right away?
Her hands trembled as she entered the numbers into her phone. Sure, she wanted answers, but this man might actually find them. Up until last week, Abby had fought with herself and her family over the possibility that a sister might exist. She had figured Walter would have told her sooner if it were true, or at the very least, made it part of one of the birthday scavenger hunts he sent her on each year.
Since her parents’ divorce, Abby recalled seeing Walter maybe four or five times in her life. He had moved to the West Coast when she was still in grade school. After Abby’s brother, Wyatt, had been born, she hadn’t understood why her last name was different from the rest of the family’s. Her stepfather had offered to adopt her. Walter hadn’t put up a fight.
Almost ten years ago, on Abby’s eighteenth birthday, Walter had contacted her. He’d explained why he had walked away. He hadn’t wanted to complicate her new life. And he’d thought she would be better off without him.
Abby respected his decision and never held any ill will toward him. But even after they’d reconnected, Walter had never offered to see her. She’d never asked why either. She’d always thought there would be plenty of time for visits in the future. Now she wondered if there was more to the story.
Once Walter was back in her life, they remained in regular contact with each other. It was also when he began sending Abby an envelope every year on her birthday. Delivered by courier, the envelope never showed a return address. Inside, there were always instructions for a treasure hunt.
One year, Walter had sent her a brochure of the Delaware Water Gap and a map of Monroe County, Pennsylvania. The hunt had forced her to head home for the first time since her residency had started at the hospital a year earlier. Various clues had led her to her parents’ house. It had been Walter’s way of telling Abby she needed a break from work and was long overdue to spend time with her family.
Why hadn’t he confided in her that he’d had cancer? Things would have been different. She would have been there for him. But, Abby guessed that was the point. Walter wanted her to remember him as he was, not as a dying man in a veteran’s hospital on the other side of the country. Abby’s birthday was next month, and in her heart, she sensed this note—a three-word clue to find her sister—was Walter’s way of giving her one final gift.
No one in her family comprehended how Abby could grieve for someone she hadn’t seen since preschool when Walter had still had visitation rights—not that he’d used them very often. Even Wyatt didn’t get it, and they were close. They shared a house. Her brother simply didn’t understand what she was going through and tension had formed between them.
She sighed as she held her cell phone to her ear. “Hello, Mr. Tanner? My name’s Abby Winchester. A woman named Kay referred you to me. I need your help finding my sister.”
* * *
CLAY POCKETED HIS phone and turned to his best friend, Shane Langtry. “Your mom just sent a client my way.”
“I hope this one pays you in something other than livestock,” Shane joked as he helped Clay set a newly constructed roof on the chicken coop. “Any more animals and you’ll need a second job to keep you in feed.” He shook his head as he surveyed Clay’s modest ranch.
“Isn’t that the truth!”
“Keep your eye on that shelter over there.” Shane pointed to the farthest pigpen. “The roof support looks like it’s seen better days.”
Clay nodded, thinking about the ideas he’d had for the ranch when he’d purchased it a few years earlier. Raised in a family that raised sheep for wool, he had intended to raise alpacas, hoping to bring his father aboard once he got the farm off the ground. Watching the man manage someone else’s fiber mill when he knew his father’s heart was elsewhere pained Clay. And he felt partly responsible for it.
Money had already been tight before Clay’s birth, and it had never seemed to get any better. When his sister, Hannah, had come along twelve years later, it had been even tighter. At a young age, Clay had picked up on his parents’ financial struggles and had never asked for things that weren’t necessary.
After Clay graduated high school, he knew his father was disappointed that Clay chose to study criminal justice instead of agriculture. His father had wanted him to help run the family business. Despite his disappointment, Gage Tanner had urged his son to follow his heart. It made sense. Wool production had been slowly declining in the United States. The industry wasn’t nearly as profitable as it had been when Clay’s great-grandparents had started sheep farming seventy-five years ago.
Halfway through his time away at college, Clay’s parents had faced foreclosure. He’d offered to come home and help with the ranch, but his father told him it wouldn’t change anything. Days before the bank had been ready to auction off the Tanners’ land, they’d received a reprieve of sorts.
Their close relationship with the Langtrys had allowed his parents to keep the family home along with a handful of acres when Joe Langtry purchased the property. The sale had been enough to cover their debts, but the Tanners had been forced to sell off the sheep to other area farmers.
Clay knew the animals’ fate bothered his mother. She had prided herself on the fiber processing mill she’d built from the ground up and it nearly killed her to watch her beloved sheep taken away by the truckload.
Clay had paid for college on his own with the aid of student loans, but that hadn’t eased the regret he had for not being around when his father needed him most. Now Clay wanted to regain some of that Tanner pride and raise alpacas, which were much more valuable for their fleece.
He shook his head. He’d never imagined wanting to follow in his father’s and grandfather’s footsteps, but life changed in a heartbeat—Clay was proof of that. The new ranch wouldn’t be the same as the one his family had once owned, but it would be a chance to regain their rich history in fiber production.
Clay laughed to himself. He would have gotten somewhere with his dream if more of his private investigator clients actually paid him in cash.
It didn’t matter that he told people his fees up front, the majority of the time they could barely afford his retainer. Farmers were having financial problems thanks to a multi-year drought and the ever-increasing amount of imported goods into the States. Unable to say no to the people he’d known his entire life, Clay had accepted animals as payment. He now owned a small herd of goats, more pigs than he cared to admit and enough chickens to warrant constructing an addition on the coop. He kept what he could afford, the rest he sold. Except for the chickens, which earned their keep by providing breakfast on most days. The remaining eggs his neighbor graciously sold for him at her farm stand. It didn’t make him a great businessman, but helping his clients helped ease his conscience a bit. He had more than his share of sins to atone for.
“Thanks for helping me out this morning.” Clay tugged off his gloves and shoved them in his back pocket, irritated that he’d allowed the past to disturb his thoughts. He kept himself constantly busy for that exact reason. To forget. “I need to clean up and head out to The Magpie to meet my potential client.”
He enjoyed being a private investigator, which was more than he’d anticipated. He had viewed it as a temporary layover after leaving his job at the Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives field office in Houston. Reuniting people was his favorite part of the job, something Clay knew he’d never have
