until now.” She touched her belly.
“What about your mom?”
“I was fairly sure she had no idea about Nicholas. But she’s been acting stranger than usual lately. Jumpy. But that could just be a change in her anxiety medication.”
“Self-preservation seems to be a genetic survival trait in McCabe women,” he said in a low enough voice that she could still hear it.
She chose not to respond.
“What are you really afraid Nicholas got himself into?” Ryder asked.
She shot him a grateful look for the change in subject. “He wouldn’t stand me up without a good reason, and he always responds to my texts. I’m afraid for him, Ryder.”
“Could he have a recreational drinking or drug habit?”
“No.” Her shoulders slumped forward. “He has a good head on his shoulders. He’s a decent person despite bad circumstances.”
* * *
RYDER COULDN’T HELP but notice how many times Faith had mentioned that her little brother was a decent kid. Was she trying to convince him, or herself? As much as he doubted any McCabe son could be good, he would give Faith the benefit of the doubt. His trust was an entirely different story.
If he was going to help—and there was no refusing now that he knew she was possibly pregnant with his child and there was the slightest chance of foul play—he needed more information. Besides, the faster he could help her find Nicholas, the sooner he’d be able to focus on what he really wanted to know more about—the baby she was carrying.
“You haven’t spoken to his mother. There could be an easy explanation for all this, Faith,” he said, ignoring the tension sitting like a wall between them.
Faith shook her head. “I didn’t want her to know about our relationship. It would only cause more tension between the two of them and I doubt she’d welcome a McCabe anyway, considering my father hasn’t stepped up to help her in any way. She can’t be happy that he refused support, and I’m not saying that he’s right but neither is sleeping with a married man.”
“She may be able to clear this up in five minutes. We have to talk to her,” he said plainly.
“After the way my father treated her I doubt she’ll want to see anyone from his side of the family again.” Faith made a harrumph sound.
“That may well be true. Doesn’t mean we skip a step,” he said. If one uncomfortable conversation could clear this up, so be it. “Besides, she can’t be all that bad if Nicholas has turned out as well as you say.”
“Fine. But Nicholas isn’t close to his mother and he wouldn’t tell her if he was in trouble.”
“She may have filed a missing persons report. If she hasn’t, we’ll need her help since she’s his legal guardian. How long did you say he’s been gone?” he asked. Cooperation from Nicholas’s mother would go a long way with the law. In fact, she’d have to be the person to officially report him missing.
“It’s been three days,” she said with a voice so weak Ryder’s heart squeezed. He couldn’t afford to let his emotions overrule logic this time. They’d had him thinking that getting mixed up with her was a good idea in the first place.
“I’ve been on campouts without cell service longer than that,” he said, trying to offer what little reassurance he could under the circumstances.
Faith shot him a look.
“If his mother filed a report, three days would be enough time for law enforcement to take her seriously,” he said. What if the kid ran away? From what Faith said the boy came from an unstable home. “There are other logical possibilities. Maybe he got impatient. Or he and his mother could’ve gotten into a fight and he’s staying away while they both cool off. She might’ve done something that he didn’t want to tell you about since you don’t like her in the first place.”
“I have to think he would’ve called me like he always does. And he’s never missed a tutoring session.” If that was true she made a good point.
“Maybe he figures you’ll try to talk him into going home and he’s not ready.”
“It’s a thought,” she said without much enthusiasm, and he could tell she was going along with him even though her heart wasn’t in it.
“There’s another more likely possibility,” he offered.
“And that is?” She was clicking through the possibilities with him, and he could tell from her subdued expression that nothing was sparking.
“He might’ve met a girl.” He held his hand up when she started to speak. “Hold on. Hear me out. Fifteen-year-old boys are hormones on legs. It’s possible that he hit it off with someone and is staying at her house for a few days.”
Faith held up her cell phone.
“Last thing a hormonal teenager wants is the voice of reason in his ear. Believe me, I speak from experience,” Ryder said. “We had a lot of those in our house over the years between the six of us boys.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” she said. “I remember you at that age. And the need for an adrenaline rush hasn’t dimmed, has it, Ryder?”
“I like to think I’m more mature now.”
“I’d like to think I’m a supermodel,” she jabbed back. That quick wit of hers still made him want to smile. This time, he resisted the urge.
He glanced at his watch. “It’s late. I’ll get coverage on the ranch tomorrow, so we can get started first thing in the morning. We’ll start with his mother.”
An emotion he couldn’t put his finger on flashed in her eyes. Disappointment? Regret?
If Faith thought this was the beginning of the two of them bonding, working together as life partners, she was sorely mistaken.
* * *
THE HOUSE WAS SMALL, a two-bedroom bungalow with cars parked on the street and, in some cases, right on the front lawn. Those were on cinder blocks. There was a couch positioned on a porch or two instead of actual patio furniture. Chain-link fences surrounded mostly barren yards with patches of yellow grass. Ryder couldn’t help but take note of the contrast to the McCabes’ expansive ranch in Bluff.
Ryder parked in front of 622 Sycamore like Faith had instructed and cut the engine. They’d made small talk on the way over, mostly about the cold front that had blown through last night and the irony of this being the first day of spring when temps were barely hovering above freezing. In Texas, anything was possible when it came to the weather.
“What’s her name?” Ryder nodded toward the house.
“Celeste Bowden,” Faith supplied.
“Okay. Let’s go talk to Celeste Bowden.” He made a move for the door handle and stopped when a disgusted grunt sounded to his right.
“Fair warning, she’s not going to
