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  “Trucker girl?”

  “The one who’s staying in the motel.” Cody jabbed a thumb in the direction of the Ranch Motel as if Chase hadn’t been staring at it all day. “You know, the pretty one.”

  Chase turned, surprised, and almost clocked himself on the side of the doorway. He sat down on one of the stools at the counter, hoping Cody would think he’d meant to stop and talk all along.

  “She’s going to the rally?” He pulled a napkin out of the chrome holder and began wiping down the salt and pepper shaker as if smudge-free condiments held the key to world peace.

  “I guess.” Cody scraped a metal spatula across the grill, sliding the burned bits from the day’s business into the waste channel. “Pam said something about her coming over.”

  “When?”

  Cody shrugged. “A half hour or so, I guess. That’s when we’re leaving.”

  “So is Pam upstairs?”

  “Yeah. She’s getting ready. Like anybody cares what she looks like at a truck rally.” Cody wiped his hands on his smudged apron and untied the back, slipping the loop over his head and hanging it on a hood. Underneath it, he was wearing a Jeremiah Weed T-shirt that was almost worn through at the shoulders. He shook his head. “Girls.”

  “Well, I better run up and talk to her. I wanted Annie to come out Saturday.”

  “Works for me.” Cody waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Give us a little one-on-one time.”

  “That’s my sister you’re talking about,” Chase said.

  “I know. Your very fine, fine sister.”

  Chase tossed off an eye roll that would have done Annie proud and headed up the stairs. His sister was in the kitchen with her back to him, rummaging through the freezer, intent on finding something. He tiptoed up behind her and was just about to poke her in the side when she spun around and hollered into his face.

  “Macaroni and cheese okay, Annie?”

  He clutched his heart and stumbled backward into one of the chairs at the old-fashioned dinette table. “Holy mother of God,” he said. “You about gave me a heart attack.”

  “Which is what you were trying to do to me.” Pam dusted off her hands with satisfaction. “That’s what you get for sneaking up on your big sister.” She swatted his arm as she strode past, heading down the hallway to Annie’s room.

  “Annie? Mac and cheese?” She turned as she opened her daughter’s bedroom door. “Kid’s turning into a teenager. Got earbuds in 24/7. I’ll be right out.”

  Chase glanced around the kitchen. The afternoon sun slanted in the small window over the sink, reflecting off the gleaming faucet and casting a grid of bright light onto the shiny linoleum floor. His sister was such a good housekeeper, such a good mom. She’d built a great life out here in Wyoming.

  He was always a step behind his older sister. He’d built a life, but great? Not so much. While her tiny apartment felt homey and warm, his own home didn’t feel much more than functional—someplace to eat and sleep and run the ranch. It was more a headquarters than a home. If he didn’t watch out, he really would end up like Galt.

  Borrowing Annie for the weekend would help, but watching the old man made him realize he spent way too much time alone. Once again, pictures of Lacey at the ranch danced through his consciousness. He set his elbows on the table and rested his forehead on his fists, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to erase the fantasies. He didn’t even bother to sit up when he heard steps on the staircase—no doubt Cody coming up to see if Pam was ready.

  “Hello?” said a voice from the stairs.

  That wasn’t Cody. He spun to see Lacey standing uncertainly in the doorway.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” He rose awkwardly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Cody said you wouldn’t be here for half an hour. I was just going to talk to Pam a minute.”

  “Well, sorry I didn’t suit your schedule. I thought I’d come a little early, make sure I knew the drill for Annie. You know, bedtime and stuff.” Her ugly dog galloped up the stairs and trotted past her as if he owned the joint, heading for Annie’s bedroom.

  “Bedtime?” That was the only word in the whole sentence that had registered.

  “Yeah. And I wasn’t sure what to do for dinner.”

  “Macaroni and cheese.”

  “Oh.” She looked disappointed. “You’re watching her?”

  “No. I thought she was going with—you’re watching her?”

  “Yes.” She set her fists on her hips. “Why? Is that a problem?”

  Chapter 17

  “No.” Chase hadn’t meant to sound so incredulous. There was really no reason Lacey shouldn’t watch Annie. It just surprised him. “I think it’s great you’re watching her. It’s just…”

  “What? Just that I’m not competent?”

  A childish shriek of joy emanated from the hallway. “A dog! Look, Mom. He’s so cute!”

  Chase couldn’t help laughing. The dog was anything but cute. Lacey evidently agreed, because she dimpled up and for just a second they shared something that felt like a moment. Or at least they were in agreement on something.

  Shoot, they hadn’t agreed on anything since yesterday in the bed of the pickup, when they’d agreed—well, when they’d agreed on pretty much everything that mattered.

  “‘Cute’ isn’t how I’d describe that animal,” he said.

  “No, but he’s healthy. Which is a good thing, because you’re paying the vet bills.”

  “What, he needs shots?” He smiled tentatively, like he was trying to ease the fears of a timid child. She’d finally decided to let him help her—for the dog’s sake, but still… “Sure. I’ll pay for ’em.”

  Lacey looked startled. “You will?”

  “Sure.” He slowly raised his hands to shoulder level, palms out. “And look. No hands.”

  The dimples were back. “Well, thanks. But I wasn’t asking for me. I’m going to give the dog to Annie.”

  Annie blasted out of her room, followed by a very disgruntled Sinclair dressed in a plaid sundress. “You what? You’re going to give him to me?” She threw herself at Lacey, who caught the child in her arms and almost staggered back onto the stairs. “Oh, Lacey. Oh my gosh. Can I really? Mom? Lacey wants to give me the dog. Can I have him? Please? Please?”

  Pam was beaming, her arms folded over her chest. “Yes, honey. Lacey and I talked about it.”

  “Oh, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Annie gave Lacey one more squeeze and released her hold to jump up and down in front of her. “This is the best thing that ever happened to me. I will never forget you, Aunt Lacey. Never never never. Not ever.” She paused, sliding her eyes toward her mother. “Is it all right if I call her Aunt Lacey, Mom?”

  “Sure.” Pam passed the same questioning glance toward Chase. “I’d like it if you called her that.”

  Chase sputtered, feeling hot and supremely embarrassed. Pam was always a matchmaker, especially where he was concerned, but she usually didn’t do it right in front of the woman in question. And judging from Lacey’s reaction, she was embarrassed too. Annie had squeezed her into an enormous hug again, and the woman looked like she was going to cry.

  Was he that bad?

  “Never never ever,” Annie repeated like a prayer. “Never.”

  “Not ever?” Lacey wrapped her arms around Annie and rested her cheek on the child’s head, closing her eyes. The tears weren’t about Chase. Not at all. She hadn’t even noticed the “Aunt Lacey” thing. Was she so lonely that a declaration of love from an eight-year-old meant that much?

  He thought of what Annie meant to him and had the answer to his question. Suddenly, he was blinking back tears too.

  “I—well…” He backed out of the room. “I have to go home. Chores to do.”

  ***

  “I think Sinclair needs a break,” Lacey said. It was eight o’clock, and the dog had modeled two sundresses, a baby-doll nightgown, a one-piece ruffled romper, and an assortment of bonnets. He�
��d apparently drawn the line at the romper—maybe it was the ruffles—because he skulked away as soon as Annie removed it, tossing a look over his shoulder that reminded Lacey of a Victoria’s Secret angel gone diva.

  “Okay. Come on, Sinclair.” Annie patted the sofa and the dog hopped up beside her, but he kept his head down, ready to dodge any attempt at dressing him again.

  “You want to watch TV? Your mom said you watch Law & Order.” Considering the kid’s theory about Krystal’s moonlighting as a hooker, Lacey wasn’t sure that was wise, but Annie wasn’t her kid, and Pam had said she didn’t want to fight the TV battle that night.

  “No. I want to do a stakeout,” Annie said, as if that was a perfectly normal option for an eight-year-old. She plopped into a threadbare rocker-recliner and spun it toward the window, grabbing a pair of binoculars and a well-used notebook from the sill. “I’m staking out the car lot.”

  “You’re watching Chase?”

  “I’m watching his girlfriend.” Annie levered the Venetian blinds shut, then poked the binoculars between two slats. “I’m telling you, she’s suspicious. Look.” She handed the binoculars to Lacey.

  Lacey hesitated, but she couldn’t resist taking a peek. She told herself she just wanted to know what was getting Annie so riled up. Squinting through the lenses, she watched Krystal walk the length of the car lot. In her skimpy suit and high heels, she really did look oddly out-of-place in the small-town car lot. She paraded through the rows with a hip-swinging gait that looked to Lacey like a clear invitation to any passing man—and possibly the result of a couple drinks with dinner.

  Pausing next to a Pontiac, Krystal bent at the waist to check her lipstick in the side mirror, her rump turned toward the street for all to see and appreciate.

  “Geez,” Lacey said.

  “What? Lemme see.” Annie reached for the glasses, but Lacey shrugged her off.

  “I’m not sure you’re old enough to watch this.”

  “What? Did she get a customer? Are they doing it?”

  “No! And you shouldn’t even think about stuff like that!”

  “I watch TV, Aunt Lacey.”

  Krystal straightened, changing the view back to a PG rating, and Lacey handed the binoculars back. “Well, you need to switch to the Disney Channel.”

  “Oh, come on. That High School Musical stuff is lame.” Annie poked the binoculars through the blinds and resumed her stakeout while Lacey leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes, then opened them. She could feel every bone, tendon, and muscle in her body, and every one of them ached and throbbed. She’d covered a lot of concrete in her job search today. She got up to get some Tylenol from her purse.

  “She went back inside,” Annie murmured. “Still didn’t sell anything. I told you.”

  Lacey popped two tablets and lay down again.

  “Uh-oh.” Annie sounded genuinely concerned.

  “What?”

  The little girl turned around, her eyes wide. “Some guy just snuck up to the back of the trailer. I think he’s one of her customers.” She turned back around, jamming the lenses through the blinds. “I told you, it’s a front,” Annie said. “He’s one of her johns.”

  “That’s it,” Lacey said. “Your mom needs to cut off the HBO.”

  Lacey heard a loud “bang” from across the street and a high, harsh scream broke the night stillness. Sinclair let out a sharp volley of barks, and Annie gasped, spinning around and shoving the binoculars at Lacey. “Oh my gosh. They came out from behind the counter and she slapped him and he grabbed her wrists and pulled her back there with him! He’s probably going to—you know.”

  Lacey had a feeling Annie did know but wasn’t about to lose her cable TV privileges.

  “We have to go over there!” Annie said.

  “I don’t think so.” Lacey grabbed the kid’s arm as she jumped up from the chair. “Are you sure it wasn’t just the guy from the Quick Lube?”

  “It might have been.” Annie looked troubled. “But so what? He looks like a bad guy. He has tattoos and everything. And he was being real sneaky, like…” She put her hands up like bunny paws and did a dramatization that reminded Lacey of the Pink Panther cartoon.

  It sounded like Jeb from the Quick Lube, all right. And judging from the hungry way he’d looked at Lacey that afternoon while she filled out a job application, he wouldn’t be able to resist Krystal’s sexy swagger.

  Sinclair growled low in his throat, and Lacey felt her stomach clench. Dogs were supposed to have instincts that told them when something was wrong.

  “Oh my God,” she murmured. Annie had a point. All those tattoos and the muscles bulging from his tight T-shirt indicated the guy fancied himself as some sort of badass, and he and Krystal had a history. If he drank or did drugs, who knew what he’d do? Krystal had frustrated him and hurt him. For some men, that was a clear call to use their fists.

  Annie turned to her, tears standing in her eyes. “We have to stop him.” Her forehead was creased with worry lines. “I don’t like that lady, but…”

  “I guess we should call the police,” Lacey said.

  “I’m on it.” Annie raced out of the room. Lacey chased after her but was too late to stop her from grabbing a cell phone from the kitchen counter and poking the three magic emergency numbers into the keypad. Realizing what an eight-year-old’s panicked account would sound like, Lacey grabbed the phone as the operator picked up.

  “Highway patrol,” the operator intoned. “State your emergency.”

  “I’m calling about Caldwell’s Used Cars in Grady,” Lacey began, wishing she’d caught Annie before she hit the number. The nonemergency line would have been fine, probably, but she was stuck now. “I’m at the café across the street, and we—well, my friend saw a man go in the back door. When he approached the saleswoman, they had an altercation. My friend says he grabbed the girl’s wrists and pulled her into the back.” She strode over to the window with the handset. “I heard a scream, and now there’s no sign of life over there.”

  Now that she’d put the scene into words, maybe it was a good thing they had called the emergency line.

  “A car is on the way. Can you describe the assailant?”

  “Hold on. Let me put my—my niece on.” She handed the phone to Annie. “Describe him,” she whispered.

  “I’d say about six-four, two-fifty,” Annie said in a smooth, professional tone. “Dark hair, long in the back. Wearing a dark T-shirt with some kind of logo on the front and blue jeans.” She finally took a breath. “I couldn’t see any tattoos or identifying marks from this distance.”

  Lacey wondered if it was bad to be proud of a child when a woman could be under attack right across the street. She couldn’t help it, though. She knew Annie was scared, but the kid was cool, professional, and observant.

  “I’m eight,” Annie said into the phone, obviously answering a question from the operator. She listened a moment. “Thank you. Okay.”

  She handed the handset back to Lacey.

  “She said I did a good job,” she whispered.

  Lacey smiled and nodded enthusiastically, trying to telegraph her own praise before she got back on the phone. The woman grilled her for more information, then asked her name.

  Lacey hesitated. She couldn’t give her name to the police. Trent’s partners were both devious and desperate. There was no telling how they might try to trace her, or what kind of stories they might tell. For all she knew, they’d played family friend and declared her missing. There could be an APB out on her at that very moment.

  While she struggled to make a decision, sirens screamed in the distance.

  “Ma’am?” the operator said.

  “They’re here. Thanks,” Lacey blurted out and hung up the phone.

  Chapter 18

  Red lights chased blue across the car lot, cast by the spinning cherry-tops of no less than three police cruisers. Evidently, the police who served the tiny outpost of Grady didn’t have much to do on a Monday night. />
  Lacey eased open Annie’s bedroom window and a burst of radio babble broke the silence. The transmission was garbled and impossible to understand.

  A crackle of radio static cut through the night air, and Jeb appeared in the store’s lighted window. He was shirtless and staggering slightly, and in a moment Lacey understood why. A policeman was close behind him, shoving him through the door from the back room. Jeb’s hands were evidently cuffed behind him. The awkward pose made his belly pooch out and highlighted the fact that his belt was undone.

  “You probably shouldn’t be watching this,” she told Annie.

  The kid stared at her a moment with wide, horrified eyes before turning back to the live-action drama across the street.

  “You’re kidding, right? This is better than Law & Order. It’s real.”

  They both watched Krystal appear in the lighted doorway of the trailer. She was smoothing her hair and adjusting the neckline of her jacket.

  She wasn’t acting much like a victim. Following behind the policeman, she waved her arms. As they pushed Jeb out the front door and down the steps, she followed, her shrill voice carrying across the street.

  “You can’t arrest him! He’s my boyfriend! We were just… talking.”

  The policeman, grim-faced, didn’t respond as he marched Jeb across the lot to one of the waiting cruisers.

  “He wasn’t raping me!” Krystal ran alongside the officer, then put on a burst of speed and beat them to the car where another cop waited at the opened door. “I wanted to do it!” Throwing herself across the opening to the cage-enclosed backseat, she spread her arms over the roof and rear window and thrust her hips forward while she tossed her head back. It was a drama queen gesture that would have played well on a low-budget police drama, but it was a little over-the-top for real life.

  “I won’t let you take him!” she cried in the tragic, heartfelt tones of a soap opera queen. “I love him!”