The Missing Colton Page 18

  He hung up, knowing Harriet would call later. She checked up on him ever since he’d broken it off with Maggie. But she didn’t know about his other lover—he was more careful about things now.

  Drucker did a basic internet search using the name Jagger McKnight. You never knew what might show up in Google these days.

  He got hits instantly, and the list of links was long.

  Drucker clicked on the first link. A page opened and shock rippled through him. Quickly he opened the next link, then the next, and the next. His heart hammered loudly in his ears.

  Leaning back he smoothed his hand over his pate as he tried to absorb the weight of his discovery.

  Jagger McKnight was a journalist. Not just a simple reporter; he was one of the world’s top print foreign correspondents. He’d most recently written stories while embedded with a United States military unit in Afghanistan where he’d been the only person found alive after an ambush by Afghan militants that had lasted nineteen days.

  What was a top gun like that doing here in Dead River, asking questions about Jethro Colton?

  Drucker searched deeper into the internet. The clock ticked, but he didn’t notice time passing.

  Then he found something that sent a chill through his blood. Jagger McKnight had been kidnapped when he was three months old, the same age and same year Cole Colton was abducted. McKnight had been found when he was nine—he’d been living under a false identify secured by the woman who took him.

  Drucker frowned. Was this some kind of link?

  There was no way he was going to inform Laramie police about the truck incident—not now.

  This was his to handle, and fast.

  Chapter 10

  Heavy clouds were cutting out the sun and lowering the sky. Mia rubbed her arms against the increasing chill as she watched Cole. He was crouched down among the blackened stalks of grass, his gaze going toward the house and stable buildings in the distance.

  He got up suddenly, moved across the field and dropped quickly back to his haunches.

  “What is it?” she said, coming up to him.

  “A gold pen,” he said, picking it carefully out of the grass and holding it up for her to see. “It’s engraved with the Dead River P.D. logo.”

  “They must’ve dropped it while they were searching the site.”

  “But they missed this,” he said, reaching into the soil and carefully picking up a dull gold shell casing. He twisted it between his fingers. “It’s .45 caliber.”

  Cole looked up toward the mansion and stables again, his eyes going distant. A gust of wind suddenly lifted a fine cloud of black soot.

  Mia turned her head away from the wind, blinking against the grit. She knew from the earlier investigation into Jenny Burke’s murder that Jenny was shot with a 9 mm, and she knew that Dead P.D. cops carried .45s. Everyone on the ranch had been discussing calibers at that point. Drucker had also asked Cole if his missing pistol had been a 9 mm, because he said he’d found 9 mm casings here, too. There must have been an exchange of gunfire out here—two different guns.

  “I was shot at that night, Mia,” he said suddenly.

  “You’re remembering?” she whispered, dropping down into a crouch beside him.

  “The horse came from out of the dark over there.” He pointed in the direction of the house. “Huge black horse with that white streak on its chest—I must’ve had a flashlight to see that streak because everything else was pitch dark. But the rider, he was all dressed in black, black ski mask, and he had a light on his head. Bright as a hunting spot.”

  “Cole,” she said. “Your memory is returning—coming to the field has triggered something!”

  He turned away from her, suddenly unwilling to meet her eyes.

  “Who on the ranch hunts, Mia? Who would have a hunting spot?”

  She placed her hand on his forearm.

  “Cole, look at me.”

  He rubbed his brow and glanced up at the sky instead, as if clouds and heavens might part and give him the answers he needed. Then slowly he turned and met her gaze.

  A dark and haunted look filled his blue eyes. Conflict creased his brow. Her chest squeezed. Wind gusted again, whipping strands of hair across her face.

  “Cole, you should call that doctor.”

  “You mean the shrink.”

  “Psychiatrist.”

  He got to his feet, walked a few paces farther into the blackened and denuded field. It was a depressing landscape that made him appear even more alone, lost. And Mia suddenly wanted to take him away from this place. It was upsetting him. The human mind was a fragile thing. She knew that from experience, from her work.

  She got up and called to him. “It’s not a negative thing, Cole. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. A psychiatrist has professional tools he can use to help unlock your memory. If you can remember these things now, by coming back to this field, other triggers should work, too.”

  “I want to go see Jethro,” he said, his back to her. “Then...then we’ll talk, Mia.”

  She frowned and went up to him again. “What do you mean, ‘talk’?”

  He faced her and Mia’s heart skipped a beat. Something in his features had changed fundamentally. A chill sense of foreboding rustled through her.

  “Cole, you’re recalling something else, aren’t you?” she asked quietly. “What is it?”

  He didn’t reply. He walked past her, heading back to the SUV. He opened the passenger door for her. “Who would have a hunting spot, Mia—who on Dead River ranch hunts at night?” he asked again as she climbed in.

  “A lot of the guys hunt. But a bright headlamp is also accessible to all of the ranch hands. Sometimes they have to ride out at night if there’s a problem with an animal. Amanda has one, too, in case she has to attend to an animal out in the dark.” Mia paused, anxiety mounting. “You remembered something else. Cole, why won’t you tell me?”

  “It’s nothing, Mia.”

  He got back in the Escalade and they drove down the farm track toward the house, an uneasiness growing between them now. It made Mia tense. He seemed to have locked her out from whatever was going on in his head and there was suddenly a chasm yawning between them.

  He parked the Escalade out front of the house and sat in silence for a moment, the weight of everything that had happened this day suddenly heavy between them.

  “I should get this medical report to Levi,” Mia said, reaching for the envelope on the dash.

  “Yeah.” He gave a soft snort. “You can tell them all that I’m a head case.”

  “Is that what you’re worried about?”

  He didn’t smile.

  “Look, nothing changes with this diagnosis—psychological or physiological, your amnesia is real.”

  “It’s not the same, Mia. People don’t see it as the same. There’s this underlying idea you should be able to man up, snap out of it.”

  Mia frowned as she looked deep into his eyes. It was as if Cole was talking from a place of prior experience, as if he’d been struggling with this memory loss before he even got here.

  “You can’t just snap out of amnesia. Where did you get this idea from, Cole?” she asked quietly.

  He scrubbed his hands hard over his face.

  “Look, don’t go all macho male on me now and think that you can—”

  “Here comes Catherine,” he said, motioning with his chin.

  Mia turned to see the Catherine running out of the mansion door toward their car, her long blond hair flying in the wind. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were bright.

  “Mia! Cole!” she called out as she came up to the car.

  Mia opened the door quickly and got out to meet her. “Is everything okay?

  “Yes! Yes! My father has agreed to see a special
ist!” Her eyes danced in light. She was breathlessly happy. “The oncologist—he’s one of the best—has agreed to come over tonight after he’s done with his other patients.”

  The power of money, thought Mia.

  “Dad wants to talk to Cole.” Catherine went round to the driver’s side where Cole was getting out the SUV. She reached for his hand, took it in hers. “I can’t tell you what your coming here has done for us all, Cole. You’ve changed everything. Come!”

  He glanced at Mia.

  “I’ll go put this medical report in the infirmary and see if Levi is around,” she said. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  He had an odd look on his face as Catherine pulled him off into the family mansion.

  The door swung shut behind them and Mia stood alone on the gravel outside, staring after them, wind cool against her face. She felt suddenly like the outsider she really was and that empty hole of loneliness in her stomach grew bigger. She’d glimpsed something golden with Cole, the possibility of a second chance in life, but it was as if a tide had turned suddenly in him, and it had happened in that burned and blackened field.

  Besides, if Cole really was a Colton, there might be no place for her in his new life, in that big house, with that family. Did she even want that?

  Mia knew in her heart she didn’t.

  She dropped the thought and made for the employee wing around the side of the house.

  * * *

  Mia left the report in the infirmary. There was no sign of Levi. She called his cell phone and left a message that they were back, and that Dr. Singh’s report was on his desk.

  Slipping her gun into her new concealed holster at the waistband of her jeans, Mia made her way past the kitchen. She intended to head out to the stables to find Dylan. She wanted to make things right after confronting him about Midnight earlier. Deeper down, she wanted to know that he hadn’t lost his truck today.

  Outside the pantry Mia ran into Mathilda coming out of her small administrative office.

  “Mathilda, do you happen to know where Levi is?” she asked the housekeeper.

  Mathilda’s gaze lowered, taking in the dirt on Mia’s jeans.

  “I tripped,” explained Mia, her mind going back to the terror of their ambush. But she kept the incident to herself. She was no mood to hand Mathilda more fuel for staff gossip.

  “Levi and Kate went into Laramie today,” Mathilda said. “They went with Gabby and Trevor to look at something for Gabby’s wedding. But Levi will be back this evening so he can be here when the oncologist arrives. The others will overnight in Laramie and return in the morning.”

  The wedding—Mia had completely forgotten about Gabby and Trevor Garth’s Christmas wedding plans. The sudden thought of their love, their dreams, their hopes—a marriage—made that empty hole in her stomach ache suddenly.

  Mathilda hesitated, then reached for Mia’s arm. “Nurse Sanders, do you mind if I have a candid word with you?”

  “Why, what is it, Mathilda?” she asked as the head housekeeper drew her aside into her small alcove of an office near the pantry. The pantry itself was still boarded up after Jenny’s murder, and being near it still sent chills up Mia’s spine. She rubbed her arms again, unable to shake the increasing sense of cold and the feel of dark foreboding that had come upon her in the burned-out field.

  “You’re worrying me, Mathilda. What is it?”

  “You need to be careful, Mia. You shouldn’t get involved with him.”

  “You mean Cole?”

  “Yes.”

  Mia bristled. “Who said I was ‘involved’ with him?”

  “The staff are talking.”

  “I don’t believe this—I’m ordered to stick with our John Doe 24/7, move into his suite, drive him to Cheyenne, now I get accused of a relationship with him?”

  “Mia, please.” Mathilda’s voice was gentle, but no less authoritarian. “It’s my role in this household to guide staff and to enforce the rules, you do understand?”

  Yes, thought Mia, and Mathilda was old school—she liked to make sure that the lines between upstairs family and downstairs staff were clear as glass. And that staff stayed in their place.

  “I thought you didn’t believe he was a Colton, anyway, Mathilda,” she said crisply.

  “I don’t. In my humble opinion he’s a con artist after the Colton money. But I’ve lived long enough to know that anything is possible, and for the moment, Mr. Colton has included him as family. If you’re looking for a way to land yourself a fortune, Nurse Sanders, be warned, the Coltons stick to their own.”

  Indignation flared hot and fast in Mia and she couldn’t help what came out of her mouth next. “Is that what you think? That I’m a gold digger? And what about Gabby marrying Trevor Garth—now there’s an example of a Colton not sticking to ‘their own.’ And how about Levi Colton taking up with Kate, your kitchen help?”

  Mathilda’s eyes narrowed sharply. “Sex might be one thing, Mia, but believe me, the Coltons do stick with their sort over the long run. You’ll be sorry.”

  Mia’s jaw dropped. “Oh, and are you speaking from some past experience, then, Mathilda?”

  The woman’s eyes shrivelled with anger.

  A warming bell clanged in Mia’s brain but she was unable to pull back her own outrage. “Sex with Cole Colton might be all I want, Mathilda,” she replied curtly. “He’s pretty damn hot, don’t you think?”

  Mathilda cheeks flushed red at the impertinence. Mia turned and stormed off toward the mudroom, her boots sounding a sharp tattoo along the tiled floor.

  “I think he could be dangerous, Nurse Sanders!” Mathilda called after Mia. “Someone is up to no good on this ranch, we all know that already!”

  “I’ll bear it in mind, thanks,” Mia called back as she entered the mudroom.

  She stomped out the door and over the gravel path to the stables, her blood racing, hot.

  She was furious she’d even reacted to Mathilda’s accusations at all. It was not her style. Until now Mia had managed to keep herself at a distance from all the staff gossip. Now she was the subject of gossip herself, being accused of trying to sleep her way into the Colton family. She cursed under her breath as she approached the stable doors. If she knew Mathilda, the housekeeper would now be gunning to have her fired, in the interests of family, of course, and Mathilda’s opinion tended to hold weight—Mia’s employment here at the ranch could now be in jeopardy.

  Cole’s words rang through her mind....

  Why do you stay on, Mia?

  She was no longer certain she did want to stay. But that left the future a scarily blank slate.

  As she stomped into the stables, a stubbornness settled firmly into her chest—she almost wanted to make a move on Cole, have hot monkey sex with him, just to defy Mathilda. To defy herself. Her self-imposed isolation and resistance to intimacy were finally ganging up on her. No-strings sex might just be where it was at. Perhaps it should have been her revenge against Brad from the beginning.

  But it was not her. Mia knew that. It just wasn’t.

  In the stables she asked for Dylan. They told her he was out in the back paddock.

  Mia tromped across the fields.

  * * *

  From Jethro Colton’s bedroom window Jagger watched Mia’s blond ponytail tossing in the wind as she marched with deliberation over a ploughed field toward a cowboy working a horse in a distant paddock—a woman on a mission.

  His attention shifted to the cowboy. Dylan, he thought. Mia was going to speak to Dylan Frick. A twinge of something akin to jealousy pinged through Jagger. Mia liked that wrangler, a lot. That Dylan also had an affection for Mia was obvious.

  Jagger could not have anticipated this—that a personal investment would tear him away from the very story he’d come for. He rubbed his
hand across his jaw. It’d be all over by tonight. He was going to tell her the truth of his identity and why he’d come to Dead River. Then he could only wait to see how the cards would fall. If Mia was angry enough with him to immediately spill the beans on his ID, all hell would break loose. And worse, he might have killed any chance of a longer-term relationship with her completely. Talk about a double bind.

  “Cole.”

  A spark ran through him at the sound of Jethro’s voice coming from the bed behind him.

  He turned round.

  “Beautiful view, isn’t it?” Jethro asked, his eyes watery.

  Jagger gave a soft snort, Mia still on his mind. “Yes, Jethro. It is.”

  Morphine was feeding slowly from the drip into the sick man’s arm—like a timer, counting down the minutes until his mind grew foggy and he’d drift into a pain-free sleep. Jagger had only a small window to get what he needed out of the patriarch.

  “I built this ranch from scratch, you know, almost two thousand acres of it. Those heads of cattle you see out there in the fields now—when I bought the place there was nothing. My own sweat and blood I put into this place.”

  And money that came from somewhere.

  Jagger sat on edge of the sick man’s bed. The oxygen concentrator hummed noisily beside Jethro. His cheeks were gaunt, and he was pale with pain. Catherine had left them alone at Jethro’s request. Jagger got a sense Catherine sat with him often. She loved her father and Jagger was envious of that kind of love. Again he thought of how his inability to give it had hampered his ability to receive it for most of his life.

  “What did the doc in Cheyenne say?” Jethro said.

  “Levi will have to take a look at the report and interpret the medicalese for you. Bottom line, I still don’t remember why I came here or who I really am.”

  Something darkened in the old man’s eyes, as if ghosts were swallowing him up from the inside. Part of Jagger felt sorry for him.

  “Is that why you wanted to talk to me?” Jagger said.