Branded. B.J. Daniels
she was incapable of believing anything he told her. He could be right about that. Clearly, she wasn’t the only one who remembered their history. Call it puppy love, kid stuff, whatever, those old hurts lasted a lifetime.
“Why a letter? Why didn’t she just call you and ask you to meet her?”
Colton hung his head, studying his boot toes again. “I don’t know. Maybe her father wouldn’t let her call.”
“Or maybe she thought you wouldn’t take her call.”
He shot her an angry look. “We had an argument. Her dad didn’t want her seeing me. It was complicated. None of that has anything to do with anything.”
Halley lifted a brow, unconvinced.
“Look, I don’t care what you think about me, I just need to know what happened to her.”
“What do you think happened to her?”
Colton shifted, anger making his broad shoulders appear even broader. He looked ready to take her on, just as he had when they were kids. Except that he appeared to have already been in a fight. He was favoring his ribs and there was discoloration around one of his eyes. This time it hadn’t been some skinny, spunky tomboy in the school yard who’d given him the shiner, though, she suspected.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” he said, a muscle tightening in his jaw. “Jessica wouldn’t have left without her purse that night.”
“So you think she’s still out there,” Halley said and felt a chill snake up her spine. “I think you’d better show me this secret place of yours and I’m going to have to keep this letter—at least until we get this cleared up.”
COLTON DIDN’T WANT TO come back to the spot on the creek. It had been tough enough earlier. Now it was pure hell. He felt sick to his stomach as Halley parked the patrol SUV in the clearing and cut the engine. She’d insisted that he ride with her. He could feel her watching him, looking for … what? Proof that he was everything she thought he was and worse?
Hell, he’d never felt more guilty in his life. He’d let Jessica down. Hadn’t been there for her when she’d needed him the most. Because in his heart, he knew what they were going to find here. In his heart, he knew Jessica had never left their secret spot that night.
The sun pounded down with a heat that stole his breath. The quiet was deafening as they climbed out of the SUV and walked along the secluded path toward the stand of cottonwoods. It was as if every living thing had deserted the area. Even the water in the small creek fell silent.
“This is where I found the purse,” he said when they finally reached the grove of trees. “I tripped on the strap.” He could feel her gaze on him before she glanced around. He could imagine what she was thinking. He felt anger rise in him again, but swallowed it back. “I didn’t kill her.”
Halley’s brow quirked up. “You’re that sure she’s dead?’
“Can we please stop playing games here? We both know she’s dead. She wouldn’t have left without her purse and she damn sure didn’t bury it herself under that tree root.” His voice broke. “You have to find her so she can get a proper burial.”
“Where would you suggest we look for a body?” the deputy asked, clearly baiting him.
“Do you have any idea how hard this is on me?” he asked through clenched teeth. He had taken a step toward her, but now stopped, suddenly aware that her hand was resting on the butt of her gun. Did she really think he’d killed Jessica?
The heat, the quiet, the sickness in the pit of his stomach made him slump down on the edge of the creek bank. He put his head in his hands and fought back all the emotions warring inside him. “Please, just find her.”
HALLEY PULLED OUT HER CELL PHONE, all the while keeping an eye on Colton. He hadn’t moved from the creek bank. She got the number for Sid and Mildred Granger’s house. A woman picked up on the third ring.
“I’d like to speak with Jessica Granger,” Halley said and saw Colton lift his head. He frowned, the look he gave her appeared to question whether she’d lost her mind.
There was a beat of silence, then, “She isn’t here. She doesn’t live here anymore.”
“Can you tell me where I can reach her?”
Another beat of silence. “May I ask who’s calling?”
“Is this Mrs. Granger?”
“Yes.”
Halley heard the hesitation in the woman’s voice. “I’m Sheriff’s Deputy Halley Robinson. I know this is unusual, but can you tell me when you last heard from your daughter?”
“A week ago. We got a letter. Has something happened to her?” The woman sounded scared.
“No, I’m sorry to upset you. But I would like to stop by and ask you a few questions. Something of your daughter’s has been found. I’d like to return it.”
“Something of Jessica’s?”
“I’ll come by now if that’s all right. Is your husband home as well?”
“Yes, but—”
“I’ll see you shortly.” She snapped the phone shut and looked at Colton. “I talked to Jessica’s mother. She says she got a letter from Jessica just last week. I’m going over there now to—”
“I’m going with you,” Colton said, shooting to his feet. “She’s lying. Jessica couldn’t have written her last week.”
A shaft of ice ran up her spine, even though the heat at the edge of the cottonwoods was intense. Why was he was so adamant that Jessica was dead unless … he’d killed her? She suddenly felt the isolation of this secret place where he used to meet his girlfriend. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d stood face-to-face with a killer. But it would be the first time it was a killer she’d once loved.
“Why would her mother lie?” Halley managed to ask.
“I don’t know, but she’s lying. If Jessica was alive …” His voice trailed off, anguish twisted his handsome features into a mask of pain. “I want to see the letter she supposedly sent last week. I knew Jessica better than anyone.”
Was that so? She had no doubt that Colton had known Jessica intimately if this secret spot under the cottonwoods was any indication. But if he’d known her so well, then why didn’t he know what Jessica couldn’t wait to tell him that night?
One thing was clear. Colton was going to the Granger house. Better he go with her.
“Okay, you can come with me. But if you cause any trouble, you’ll be leaving their house in handcuffs, understood?”
He nodded and she couldn’t help but notice how pale he looked. She’d never seen Colton Chisholm this vulnerable. She’d thought it would give her some satisfaction. It didn’t.
EMMA FOUND HER HUSBAND IN THE BARN. He hadn’t gone to move cattle with all of his sons except for Colton, which wasn’t like him. She worried that he wasn’t feeling well. Or that something was bothering him. Probably her. Maybe he was regretting his impulsive rush to the altar.
She’d noticed that he’d been spending more time in the barn with his horses lately. Apparently, this is where he went when he was upset about something. She stopped just inside the door to watch him as he curried a palomino mare. Hoyt was in his late fifties, just a few years older than she was. He was a big, physically fit man with a thick head of blond hair that made the gray in it hardly noticeable. But what had stolen her heart like a thief was his penetrating blue eyes and self-deprecating charm.
She wondered about the other women who’d passed through his life and this curse her latest caller had mentioned. Had those women only known the Hoyt who laughed a lot and lived hard? Or had they stuck around long enough to know this Hoyt, the quiet, gentle rancher who Emma