CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ty watched Beth retrieve her backpack from her trunk, then remove a pair of sunglasses from the driver’s side visor. She hadn’t spoken since Mitch’s revelation about the cut brake line. Last night, she’d asked Ty if he’d been “messing around” with her car.
And now she was clearly fuming about it, but keeping it to herself. He hated that. Why couldn’t she just let it fly instead of stewing?
One of the ways he’d been able to tell when Lorilee had been drinking was by the way she controlled her temper. As a rule, she’d tended to get angry and get it over with, unless she’d been in the rum bottle. Then, she’d sulked.
Which type was Beth Dearborn? Right now, he figured her for the suspicious type. Of course, considering her line of work, that probably came in handy.
He really didn’t know much about her at all, except that she came from Chicago, used to be a cop, and worked for an insurance company. Oh, and she was single. He released a long sigh as she slammed the car door and swung the leather backpack over her shoulder.
“Give us a call when you have some idea how long it’ll take, Mitch.” Ty pulled out his wallet and handed the man a twenty. “A little extra for crawling under the car.”
“And humoring the crazy lady?” Beth asked, her tone unreadable, her hazel eyes glinting with suspicion.
“Heh.” Mitch rolled his eyes in Ty’s direction and muttered his thanks, then headed for the cab of his truck. “I’ll give you a call after we get it on the lift and find out what parts cost from the nearest Honda museum.”
“Very funny. A real comedian.” Beth kicked at the loose gravel as they both stood and watched the truck drive away with her little car secured on its flatbed. “Well, isn’t this just dandy? My luggage is in Brubaker, my car’s going to Marysville, and I’m stuck here.”
“There are other vehicles here you can borrow,” Ty reminded her. “Besides, you said most of your research starts here in Lorilee’s files.”
She drew a deep breath and looked over her shoulder at the house. “So I did.” Then she shaded her eyes and leveled her gaze on him. “So, Ty, who cut my brake line? And why?”
“That’s a damn good question.” He hooked a thumb through his belt loop. “What do you think?”
“First rule? Opportunity. You had that by being out here last night, and here you were trying to get rid of the evidence this morning.”
He threw his head back and laughed out loud. The woman was either crazy or the most brazen one he’d ever met. After a moment, he realized he was laughing alone. “Okay, so I had the opportunity, but I don’t have a motive.” He leaned close to her face. “I asked you to come here. Remember? I want you to investigate Lorilee’s disappearance.”
“And whoever cut my brake line doesn’t.” She didn’t even blink.
“You’re good.” He shook his head slowly. “Yeah, I’d say that sums it up. Somebody doesn’t want—”
“Me here.” She shifted the pack to her other shoulder. “Which means somebody has something to hide.”
“Interesting.” He rubbed his chin, the raspy sound of his thumb against his whiskers sounding in his head. He hadn’t shaved this morning, because he’d been in a hurry to check on Cissy. “I wonder what.”
“You don’t know?”
Something snapped in Ty. He grabbed her upper arms and gave her a little shake. “I did not cut your damn brake line. I’m one of the good guys. We’re on the same side. Remember? I think those were your words.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “Will you stop suspecting everybody and learn to trust once in a while?”
Her eyes widened and she blinked repeatedly. Her expression went from shock to shuttered in record time. He’d obviously struck a nerve. Trust. Beth Dearborn had trust issues. She was like a skittish wild mustang, full of courage and spirit but frightened at the same time.
“Well, you’re right,” she said finally. “I’m sorry I suspected you.”
He wasn’t sure she really meant that, but he’d accept it for now. “Good. So we’re going to work together to find out what happened to Lorilee. Right?”
“That’s the plan,” she said, then took a deep breath that drew his gaze down to her breasts.
“If you keep walking around here without a bra, I can’t be held responsible for my actions, ma’am.”
Her face flared crimson so fast he thought, at first, he might have been mistaken. “My God—you’re blushing.” He tried not to laugh, but couldn’t prevent the low chuckle. “I’ll be damned. I made Beth Dearborn blush.”
“You did not. It’s…just the sun.” She folded her arms and stuck her chin out. “I don’t blush.”
“Sure.” He winked. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”
“You’re actually enjoying this.” She shoved her hand through that wild mass of hair, but the wind had it flying in her face again in no time.
“What are you hiding from, Beth?” he asked, his tone serious now. “Sometimes I think you use all that hair to hide from the world, to hide your eyes.”
He tilted his head at an angle when she stood frozen with her hand holding her hair away from her face. Their gazes locked, and he suddenly knew he was right. She was definitely hiding, but from what?
“Well, I’d better get to work,” she said, breaking the spell. “I’m going to start in Lorilee’s studio, if that’s all right.”
“You have run of the place.” He reached out to slip his finger through one of her curls. “But be careful. I don’t like knowing someone cut your brakes. What if you hadn’t known and had driven out of here?”
She looked at his hand instead of at his face, but at least she didn’t shy away now. Maybe she would learn to trust him. “Whoever got to my brakes wasn’t just sabotaging my car, Ty.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze now. “They were trying to kill me, or at least hurt me enough to slow me way down.”
He swallowed hard. His stomach tied into a knot of dread. “Shit.”
“I’m a big girl, and I know how to take care of myself.”
“I found that out last night when you threw me to the ground and planted your knee in my spine.”
She smiled. Really smiled. Her entire face was transformed, and her eyes sparkled. The woman sure was beautiful when she smiled like that. He found himself wishing she’d do it more often, and that he could be the cause.
She pointed at him with her index finger. “Don’t you be forgetting that lesson, cowboy.”
With that, she spun around and walked back to the house, swinging her hips with her signature long stride. “I am not a cowboy,” he muttered.
“Did I say you was?” Cecil asked from right beside him.
“How long have you been standing there?” Ty narrowed his eyes and turned to face his old friend.
“Not nearly long enough, I reckon.” Laughter sparkled in Cecil’s dark eyes. “But that don’t matter now, son. Your mare is ready. Doc Barnes is on her way.”
“Hot damn.” Both men ran toward the barn.
Beth slipped in through the back door, hoping to find the kitchen empty. Of course, earlier, when she’d been hoping to find Pearl there, she hadn’t been. Now the woman was busy peeling carrots at the sink.
The short, plump woman looked over her shoulder to identify the intruder. “Mornin’, Ms. Dearborn.”
“Beth. Remember?” She wanted to befriend this woman who’d known Lorilee her entire life, and Ty much of his. Plus, instinct told her Pearl Montgomery was a woman worth getting to know. She was one of the good people in this world, and her husband probably was, too. “Pretty outside today.”
“That it is.” Pearl studied Beth a few moments. “Did you find yourself any breakfast? I’d be happy to—”
“No, don’t go to any trouble. I overslept, so I’ll just have lunch when it’s time.” Beth smiled. “I wanted to thank you for helping me the other night after I fell and hit my head.”
“You’re welcome.” Pearl paused in her peeling and stared out the window. “Don’t know what got into Sarah, calling you that way. She knows better.”
“It really wasn’t her fault, and—as you pointed out—it’s better that I’m stranded here than on the other side of the bridge.”
“True enough.” She started scraping carrots again. “Making stew for dinner. Beef and barley.”
Beth wasn’t much of a cook, and her mother had generally opened or heated dinner, or they’d ordered pizza. “I don’t think I’ve ever had it.”
“If you like it, I’ll give you the recipe.” Pearl wiped her hands on her apron and dropped the peeled carrots onto a cutting board, where she diced them into chunks. “Was old Mrs. Brubaker’s recipe.”
“Lorilee’s mother?”
“Her granny.” Pearl smiled, one gold tooth flashing amid many white ones. “That old woman lived to be a hundred and one, and ran the kitchen until the day she died.”
“Sounds like an interesting person.”
Pearl gave a wheezing chuckle. “That’s one word for it.”
She went to the stove and stirred a massive kettle of sizzling meat. “You want to brown the beef before you start adding vegetables.” She dumped a bowl of diced onions and another of minced garlic into the pot. Then she rinsed and cleaned two green bell peppers and tossed them in as well.
“You want to hand me that pot of thyme from the window there, Beth?”
Beth rose and stared at the row of small herb pots lined up along the kitchen windowsill. “Um…which one is thyme?”
Laughing again, Pearl picked up a pot and held it up to Beth. “Take a whiff.”
“Nice.”
“That’s thyme.” Pearl pinched some off with her fingers and sprinkled it into the sizzling pot. She picked up a different herb. “This un’s rosemary.” She let Beth smell it as well before she repeated the entire process.
The kitchen filled with wonderful aromas as Pearl kept adding and stirring items into the pot. Beth’s stomach rumbled hungrily, making the older woman chuckle again.
“Lorilee was always skippin’ breakfast, too.” She smiled sadly. “There’s sandwich fixin’s in the fridge. Help yourself.”
“Thanks. I guess I’ll do that.” Beth pulled bread and cheese out of the refrigerator. “Can I make you one, Pearl?”
“No, I ate breakfast with the kids and Cecil, so I’m good for a bit yet.” Pearl pointed at the food. “You go ahead. Plates are over there.” She aimed a thumb across the room. “And there’s iced tea in that pitcher.”
Sweet tea. Blech. “I’m more of a water person, actually.”
“Suit yourself.”
Beth smiled to herself as she constructed the sandwich and poured herself a glass of water, then took a seat at the table. “So the kids have school today?”
“Yes, and Mark is still fit to be tied that the schoolhouse isn’t on the other side of that durned bridge.” She laughed again. “The girls, now, they both like school pretty much.”
“That’s good.” Beth had hated school, mostly because she’d had no friends. She was too weird growing up, trying to come to terms with her gift and learn to control it. Since her gift had come from her father’s side of the family, and he’d died when she was an infant, the only people she’d ever had to share her secrets with were Sam and his father, who was also gone now. Their mothers had always tried to stay out of it. Though they knew about the family gift from their husbands, they didn’t understand it well enough to help their children. So she and Sam had been more like siblings than cousins.
Beth took a bite of the sandwich and reached for a flier on the table. Some kind of cancer fund-raiser. Sam’s mom had died from breast cancer. What a horrible waste.
“Some hairdressers have donated their time and are coming to the school for this,” Pearl explained, when she saw what Beth was reading. “I think they need at least nine inches of hair to make a wig for chemo patients, or something like that.”
Beth took another bite of her sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. She probably had enough hair to make three wigs and still have some left over for herself. A smile spread across her face. Ty thought she was hiding behind “all that hair.” Well, maybe she had been, but no more. Someone else needed it more than she did.
Besides, for some crazy reason, she needed to prove to herself she wasn’t hiding from anyone or anything. At least no one living.
“So when is this fund-raiser, Pearl?” she asked. “I feel the need for a change.”
“That’s the spirit. It’s this afternoon.” Pearl put the lid on the stew. “We’ll both go. I’ll get a trim, and you can donate hair for wigs. Won’t they be surprised when they see you?”
“I’ll bet they won’t be the only ones.” Beth finished her sandwich. “Don’t tell anyone. We’ll surprise everybody.”
Pearl laughed again. “We sure will. They won’t have a big turnout today, because folks from Brubaker won’t be able to get to the school, so they’ll need all us country folks to make it worthwhile.”
Imagine that—Beth Dearborn as “country folk.” She smiled again and finished the water. “Maybe on the way, you can tell me more about Lorilee and her parents.”
Pearl looked over her shoulder and nodded. “Sure, I don’t see why not. If you think it might help.”
“You never know what might help. Thanks. I’ll just get my things.”
“And I’ll dump all this into the slow cooker, get my car, and meet you in the drive.”
On her way up the back staircase, Beth promised herself she’d visit Lorilee’s attic studio as soon as they returned. This would give her another chance to observe the locals. Maybe she’d run into Bill and Ruby Brubaker again, or the very strange Gary Harlan.
Maybe she’d get some inkling of who might want to see her dead.
In her room, she dropped the antiquated Rolodex into her backpack alongside her Glock and put her cell phone in the outside pocket. She paused in front of the dressing mirror to stare at her wild mane of hair.
“Hiding, huh?” She held it away from her face with both hands. “Probably.”
With a sigh, she swung her backpack onto her shoulder and headed for the door. “Definitely time for a change.”
Ty was as nervous as an expectant father. He’d raised Cissy herself from a foal. She was the daughter of Lorilee’s beloved Tennessee walking horse, which had come to the farm with her after their marriage. Ty had hesitated to have Cissy bred, but Sarah and Bill had both insisted they keep the line going.
So here they were, waiting and pacing while Amanda Barnes examined the mare. Cecil patted Ty on the back. “She’s from good, strong stock,” he said, reading Ty’s tension. “She’ll do fine.”
“I should call Bill.”
Cecil appeared thoughtful. “I’d wait until after the fact, were it me.” He arched a woolly brow. “But it’s your call.”
“I like it your way.” Ty grinned. “You’re pretty smart for an old fart.”
“That’s what Pearl says.”
Cecil guffawed and slapped Ty’s back again. “You’re the darnedest.” He grew solemn after a moment. “Y’know, that investigator and my Pearl took off somewhere together this afternoon.”
“No kidding?” Now that surprised Ty. “I thought she was hell-bent on going through all of Lorilee’s records in her studio today.”
“Apparently my Pearl made her a better offer.”
Ty thought back to this morning, and Mitch’s discovery about the brake lines. “I hope they’re careful.”
“Pearl’s a good driver, Ty. You know that.” Cecil narrowed his eyes. “What’s eatin’ you, boy?”
“Somebody cut Beth’s brake lines last night.”
“What?” Cecil’s alarm showed in his face. “Why in tarnation would someone do such a fool thing?”
“To stop her from finding the truth.” Ty kept his voice low. “Why else?”
Cecil’s expression remained solemn. “If anybody tries to hurt my Pearl, I’ll kick their ass into the stratosphere.”
Ty placed a comforting hand on Cecil’s shoulder. “And I’ll help. The bastard won’t stand a chance.”
“It’s a filly!” Amanda shouted from the stall. “She’s breach, but she’s coming fast now.”
“I’ll be damned.” Ty and Cecil both rushed to the stall and stared over the door as Amanda Barnes worked her magic on Cissy. The veterinarian massaged the mare’s bulging, contracting abdomen as she urged the gangly-legged filly from the warmth of her mother’s womb.
In what seemed like only seconds later, the filly was out and her mother was licking her clean while Amanda dealt with the afterbirth. “They both did great. No worries here,” she called from the stall floor.
Cissy decided that enough was enough of all this human intervention and lurched to her feet. Then she licked and nuzzled her foal until the newborn imitated her mother. Within minutes, the filly was suckling as her mother continued to lick her clean.
“Good work, Cissy,” Ty said, giving her a thumbs-up.
“Do you still have that treat I gave you earlier?” Amanda asked.
“Oh, sure.” He pulled it out of his pocket. “Looks like a sugar cube.”
“That’s what she’ll think. Vitamin.” Amanda finished gathering her equipment and stepped out of the stall. “Go on in and see if she’ll let you say hi.”
Ty entered the stall slowly. Even though Cissy was his horse in every way, he never knew how a mare would react to human contact with her foal. Cissy bobbed her head as if saying, “Come on in and see what I did.”
He kept his eyes on Cissy and offered her the cube open-palmed, stroking her neck. “Aren’t you the best?” She took the cube and made a soft nickering sound.
“Extra sweet feed for the next two weeks,” Amanda said to Cecil. “As much as she wants for now, then taper back once she and—Hey, what’s this young lady’s name?”
The filly’s long legs made Ty think of Beth Dearborn, but he figured that would be inappropriate. “I haven’t decided.” He looked back over his shoulder. “The kids’ll want to be in on it.”
“Sure, that makes sense.” Amanda Barnes leaned on the stall door with Cecil. “I don’t think she’s going to mind if you touch her foal, Ty.”
No, neither did he. Ty kept one hand on Cissy’s neck and reached down very gently to touch the still-damp back of the nursing filly. “You did good work, girl. Real good. Looks like she’ll be a dapple gray, like her momma.”
“That’s my guess, too.” Amanda pushed away from the stall when her beeper sounded. “Have another stop to make on my way home.”
“Thanks for coming. Glad you’re on this side of that damn bridge.”
She laughed. “Me, too. Considering my work, it makes sense.”
Ty left the stall and followed Amanda out of the barn while Cecil measured the sweet feed for Cissy.
“I’m sorry we missed Mark’s party,” she said. “Cory has a terrible cold, and I didn’t want to spread it around.”
“Appreciate that.”
“Lorilee would be proud of how you’ve managed the kids, Ty.” Amanda reached out and put her hand on his arm. “You torture yourself too much. Let the investigator do her job. You’re doing the right thing.”
“Thanks, Amanda. I hope you’re right.”
“I was Lorilee’s best friend. Remember?”
“And maid of honor at our wedding.” Ty sighed and stared off toward the road. The sight of Pearl’s car heading toward the house barely registered. The kids would be home in an hour or so, and they’d want to see the foal.
Amanda continued to talk, but Ty barely heard her. He was too busy watching Pearl park her car. She’d obviously noticed the veterinarian’s truck and assumed it was because of Cissy, because she parked close to the barn.
He watched the short, plump woman and the longlegged one walking toward him. He’d recognize that stride anywhere, and couldn’t help but remember those legs wrapped around his waist last night.
As they drew closer, he noticed something else. Her hair. She’d cut her hair. A lot! He chuckled. That figured. All it took was for someone to accuse her of hiding behind it, and off it came.
“What’s so funny?” Amanda asked, looking in the direction of his gaze. “Oh, it’s Pearl. Is that the investigator?”
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
“Well, I’d better run. I need to stop at the Holmes place on the way home.”
“Thanks for coming, Amanda.”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have missed it.” She gave Ty a hug. “Cissy is family, and so are you.”
She waved to Pearl, then headed for her truck at a brisk pace, obviously trying to make up for the time she’d spent chatting with Ty. As Pearl and Beth drew closer, Ty stood transfixed.
Beth’s hair was a cap of soft, dark curls now, with some loose strands grazing her cheeks and eyes, and a little fringe around her collar. The closer she came, the prettier she looked. Those eyes…
“Did Cissy have her foal?” Pearl asked when they reached him.
He nodded. “A healthy gray filly. Go see for yourself. Cecil’s in there.”
Pearl left him alone with Beth. “What happened to all that hair?”
“Donated it to charity.” She drew a deep breath. “I didn’t need it anymore.”
He studied her eyes for several seconds. “Not hiding anymore?”
She gave him a tight smile. “We’ll see. Won’t we?” After a minute, she inclined her head toward the barn. “I’ve never seen a newborn horse. May I?”
“Sure.” He turned toward the barn. “And, by the way, I like it.”
“What?”
“Your hair.”
She nodded, matching his stride toward the barn. “So do I.” She paused at the open door and he stopped beside her. “Um, one question.”
“Shoot. You’re the investigator.”
She arched an eyebrow and tilted her head at an angle, suspicion oozing from every pore. “Who’s the redhead?”