Читать книгу McCullen's Secret Son - Rita Herron - Страница 12

Chapter Five

Willow clenched her clammy hands together as the sirens wailed closer. Dear Lord, had someone seen them leave with Leo’s body?

Brett laid a hand over hers. “It’ll be all right.”

But they both knew it wouldn’t be all right. They’d lose precious time explaining themselves to the police, and even then, they would go to jail and the kidnapper might hurt Sam.

Brett slowed and pulled off the road, but they were both shocked when the police car raced on by.

His relieved breath punctuated the air. “Whew, I thought they had us.”

“Me, too.” She wiped at the perspiration trickling down the side of her face, but she was trembling so badly a pained sound rumbled from her throat.

Brett pulled her to him for a moment and soothed her. “Hang in there, Willow. I’m here.”

She nodded, those words giving her more comfort than he could imagine. She didn’t think she could hold it together tonight if she was alone.

They sat there for several seconds, but finally Brett pulled away and inched back onto the road. By the time they reached the ranch, her breathing had finally steadied.

She had always loved Horseshoe Creek, but tonight she found no peace in the barren stretch of land where Brett parked.

Brett kept looking in the rearview mirror and across the property as if he thought they might have been followed. The land seemed eerily quiet, the wind whistling off the ridges, whipping twigs and tumbleweed across the dirt as if a windstorm was brewing.

This rocky area was miles away from the big farmhouse where Brett had grown up, the pasture where the McCullen cattle grazed, from the stables housing their working horses and the bungalows where the ranch hands lived.

The truck rumbled to a stop, and Brett cut the engine. He turned to her for a moment, the tension thick between them. “His body should be safe out here until we get your son back.”

Willow bit down on her lip as the full implications of what they were doing hit her. Not only was she compromising evidence and disposing of a body, but when the truth was revealed, she would look like a bitter ex-wife—one who might have killed Leo and then called an old boyfriend to help her dispose of his body.

She could go to jail and so could Brett.

It would also drive a bigger wedge between him and his brother Maddox.

But what other choice did she have?

She touched the knot on the back of her head where the intruder had hit her, then looked down at her cell phone, willing it to ring.

Poor little Sam must be terrified. Wondering where she was. Wanting to be home in his own bed.

Resigned, she reached for the door handle. “Let’s get this done and pray the kidnapper calls tonight, then we can explain everything to Maddox.”

Brett’s eyes flashed with turmoil at the mention of his brother, compounding her guilt. The men had just buried their beloved father and now she was asking this of him.

She hated herself for that.

But Sam’s face flashed in her mind, and she couldn’t turn back.

* * *

“WAIT IN THE TRUCK,” Brett told Willow.

Brett jumped out of the pickup, walked to the truck bed and retrieved a shovel. Yanking on work gloves, he strode to a flat stretch between two boulders, a piece of land hidden from view and safe from animals scavenging for food.

A coyote howled in the distance and more night sounds broke the quiet. His breath puffed out as he jammed the shovel in the hard dirt and began to dig. Pebbles and dry dirt crunched, and he looked up to see Willow approaching with a second shovel.

“I told you to stay in the truck.”

“This is my mess,” Willow said. “I...have to help.”

Brett wanted to spare her whatever pain he could. “Let me do it for you, Willow, please.”

Her gaze met his in the dim light of the moon, and she shook her head, then joined him and together they dug the grave.

It took them over an hour to make a hole deep enough to cover Leo so the animals wouldn’t scavenge for him. Willow leaned back against a boulder, her breath ragged. She looked exhausted, dirty and sweaty from exertion, and shell-shocked from the events of the night.

He returned to the truck, dragged Leo’s body inside the rug from the bed, then hauled him over his shoulder and carried him to the grave. Before he dumped him inside, he retrieved a large piece of plastic from his trunk and placed it in the hole to protect the body even more.

Willow watched in silence as he tossed Leo into the grave, then he shoveled the loose dirt back on top of him, covering him with the mound until he was hidden from sight.

But he had a bad feeling that even though Leo was covered, Willow would still continue seeing his face in her mind.

He smoothed down the dirt, then stroked her arm. “It’s done. Now we wait on the ransom call.”

She nodded, obviously too numb and wrung out to talk, and he led her back to the truck. He tossed the shovels in the truck bed, grabbed a rag and handed it to Willow to wipe her hands.

She looked so shaken that he decided not to take her back to that house. There were a couple of small cabins on the north side of the ranch that weren’t in use because they’d reserved that quadrant to build more stables. Even though he was a bull rider, he also did trick riding, so his father had wanted Brett to handle the horse side of the business. But when Brett left town, Maddox and his father had put the idea on hold. “I’m going to take you to one of the cabins to get some rest.”

Willow didn’t argue. Her hand trembled as she fastened her seat belt, then she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. He drove across the property to the north, where he hoped to find an empty cabin.

Five minutes later, he found the one he was looking for just a few feet from the creek. He parked and walked around to help Willow out. The door to the place was unlocked—so like the McCullens. Trustworthy to a fault.

The electricity was on, thank goodness, and the place was furnished, although it was nothing fancy, but the den held a comfortable-looking sofa and chair and a double bed sat in the bedroom, complete with linens. He and Willow had sneaked out to this cabin years ago to make love in the afternoon.

Her eyes flickered with recognition for a moment before despair returned.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” Willow said in a raw whisper.

He gestured toward the bedroom. “Get some rest. I’ll hang around for a while.”

She looked down at her hands, still muddy from the dirt and blood. “I have to wash up first.”

He ducked into the bathroom and found towels and soap. The place was also fairly clean as if someone had used it recently. His father was always taking someone in to help them out so he wasn’t surprised.He still felt like he’d walk into the main house and find him sitting in his chair. But he was gone.

Willow flipped on the shower, then reached for the button on her shirt to undress.

It was too tempting to be this close to her and not touch her, so he stepped into the hall and shut the door to give her some privacy. Self-doubts over his actions tonight assailed him, and he went to his truck, grabbed a bottle of whiskey and brought it inside.

As much as he wanted to comfort Willow and hold her tonight, he couldn’t touch her. She’d only called him to help her find her son.

And he would do that.

But tonight the stench of her husband’s dead body permeated his skin, and the lies he would have to tell his brother haunted him.

* * *

IMAGES OF DIGGING her husband’s grave tormented Willow as she showered. No matter how hard she scrubbed, she couldn’t erase them.

Leo was dead. Shot. Murdered.

And Sam was missing.

Her little boy’s face materialized, and her chest tightened. Sam liked soccer and climbing trees and chocolate chip cookies. And he had just learned to pedal on his bike with training wheels. Only Leo had run over his bike.

Where was Sam now? Was he cold or hungry?

She rinsed, dried off and looked at the clock. It was after four. Was Sam asleep somewhere, or was he too terrified to sleep? His favorite stuffed dinosaur was still in his room...

She found a robe in the closet and tugged it on, then checked her phone in case she’d missed the kidnapper. But no one had called.

Tears burned the backs of her eyelids. Why hadn’t they phoned?

Nerves on edge, she walked into the kitchen and spotted a bottle of whiskey on the counter. Brett had always liked brown whiskey. In fact, in high school, he’d sneaked some of his father’s to this very cabin and they’d imbibed before they’d made love.

She couldn’t allow herself to think about falling in bed with Brett again.

This was an expensive brand of whiskey, though, much more so than the brand Joe McCullen drank. Of course, Brett had done well on the rodeo circuit.

Both financially and with the women.

An empty glass sat beside the bottle, and she poured herself a finger full, then found Brett sitting in the porch swing with a tumbler of his own.

He looked up at her when she stepped onto the porch, his handsome face strained with the night’s events.

“I should go home,” Willow said from the doorway.

Brett shook his head. “Not tonight. We’ll pick up some of your things tomorrow, but you aren’t staying in that house until this is over and Leo’s killer is dead or in jail.”

“But—”

“No buts, Willow.” He sipped his whiskey. “It’s not safe. Besides, we shouldn’t disturb anything in the house, so when we do call Maddox in, he can process the place for evidence.”

He was right. “I realize this is putting you in a difficult position with Maddox.”

Brett shrugged. “That’s nothing new.”

Willow sank onto the swing beside him. She’d never had siblings although she’d always wanted a sister or a brother, especially when she was growing up. Her mother had died when she was five, and she’d been left with her father who’d turned to drinking to drown his problems. That alcohol had finally killed him two weeks before she’d graduated from high school.

Another reason she’d gravitated toward Brett and it had hurt so much when he’d left town. She had literally been alone.

“I know you’ve had issues, Brett, but your father just died, and you and your brothers should be patching things up.” She took a swallow of her own liquor, grateful for the warmth of the alcohol as it eased her nerves. “Family means everything, Brett. When you don’t have one anymore, you realize how important it is.”

Brett’s gaze latched with hers, but the flirtatious gleam she’d seen years ago and in the tabloids was gone. Instead, a dark intensity made his eyes look almost black.

“I’m sorry you lost yours. I know that last year with your dad was rough.”

It was Willow’s turn to shrug, although it was Brett leaving a second time that had sent her into Leo’s arms. Made her vulnerable to his false charm.

“My family is Sam now. I can’t go on if something happens to him.”

Brett reached out and covered her hand with his. “We will find him, I promise. And I’ll make sure whoever abducted him pays.”

She desperately wanted to believe him.

“There’s something I have to ask you, Willow.”

A knot seized her stomach at his tone. “What?”

“Where were you earlier today?”

Willow tensed. “Why? You don’t think I shot Leo, do you?”

He hesitated, long enough to make her think that he had considered the possibility. That hurt.

“No,” he finally said. “But I have to ask, because the police will.”

Willow sucked in a sharp breath. “I did errands, had to drop off some of my orders. Sam was staying with my neighbor Gina, but apparently Leo picked him up.” That sick feeling hit her again.

“This other woman can corroborate your story?”

Willow pinched her lips together, angry. “Yes, Brett.”

Would she need a more solid alibi to prove that she hadn’t killed her husband?

* * *

THE PAIN IN Willow’s eyes made Brett strengthen his resolve to help her. “Do you have any idea who abducted Sam?”

She shook her head, her hair falling like a curtain around her face. “I didn’t recognize the man’s voice. And he wore a ski mask.”

“You said that Leo didn’t have a bank account? Where did he keep his money?”

Willow traced her finger along the rim of her glass. “He kept cash in a safe when he lived with me. But he cleaned that out when he left.”

“It seems odd that a businessman wouldn’t have had bank accounts, maybe even a financial advisor.”

“I thought so, too, but he just got defensive every time I mentioned it.”

Brett rocked the swing back and forth with his feet. “Where did he go when he moved out?”

“I don’t know.”

“He didn’t send child support?”

“No. And I was okay with that. When he left, I was so glad to have him out of my life, out of Sam’s life, that I didn’t want anything from him.”

Brett willed his temper in check. The McCullen men had been raised to protect women, and to honor them. No man ever laid a hand on a woman or child.

“How bad was it?” he asked gruffly.

Willow sighed wearily. “At first it was just arguments. He wanted to control everything, from the money I spent, to how I took care of the house. I stood my ground, and he didn’t like it.”

“Good for you.”

A small smile tilted her mouth. “He was nice in the beginning, Brett, but he changed once we married. Nothing I did was right. And he was always traveling and refused to tell me where he was going.”

“You think he was having an affair?”

Willow shrugged. “It wouldn’t have surprised me.”

Brett contemplated that idea. What if Leo had been seeing another woman and she had killed him?

Still, why would that woman abduct Sam?

Unless she thought Willow had Leo’s money.

“Tell me about his business,” Brett said. “What did Leo do for a living?”

“When we first met, he said he’d made it big with some investment, something about mining uranium.”

Made sense. Wyoming was rich in rare earth elements and mining.

“Did he say how much money he made? Thousands? A million?”

Willow bit down on her lip. “No. He just said he’d—we’d—be taken care of for life.”

Brett considered the small house where Willow lived. “If he had so much money, why were you living in that little place?”

Willow frowned. “I moved there after Leo left. I wanted a fresh start.”

“Where was your other house?”

“Cheyenne,” Willow said. “But it was a rental, too. He said he was holding out to buy a big spread and build his dream house. But he never started anything.”

“Did he have a business card? Or was there a business associate he mentioned?”

“No.” Willow’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry. I’m not being much help.”

She obviously hadn’t known much about her husband, which seemed odd to him. Willow had always been honest, trusting, and she valued family but she was also cautious because her father had had problems.

So why had she been charmed by Leo? Had his money appealed to her?

That also didn’t fit with the Willow he’d known.

“Did Leo have any family? A sister? Brother? Parents?”

“No,” Willow said. “He lost both his parents.” Willow leaned against the back of the porch swing, her face ashen. “Looking back, Brett, I feel like I didn’t know Leo at all.”

Brett tossed back the rest of his whiskey. “You’re exhausted now, but maybe tomorrow you’ll remember more.”

If he was lucky, he’d find something in the house to add insight into Willow’s dead husband.

Knowing more about him might clue them in to the reason for his death.

He patted Willow’s hand. “Go inside and try to get some sleep.”

“How can I sleep when I don’t know where Sam is? He must be scared...and what if he’s hurt? What if that man did something to him?”

Brett cupped her face with his hands. “Listen to me, Willow. If this man wanted something from Leo, and he didn’t get it, he’s going to use Sam as leverage. So if we figure out what kind of trouble Leo was in, we can figure out how to save your son.”

He coaxed her to stand. “Try to rest until he calls with his demands.”

Willow glanced down at his hand. “Are you staying here?”

He wanted to. But that would be too tempting.

“No. I’ll run back to the farmhouse to shower. I’ll bring you some breakfast in a little while, then we can stop by your house for some of your things.”

He opened the door and ushered her inside. “Now lock up. You’ll be safe here. And when the kidnapper calls, phone me and I’ll come right over.”

Her golden eyes flickered with fear, but she nodded and slipped inside. He waited until he heard the door lock, then hurried to his truck before he went inside and crawled in bed with her.

Tension thrummed through him as he drove back to the farmhouse and parked.

Just as he let himself inside the house, Maddox was jogging down the steps. His gaze roved over Brett’s dirt-stained clothes, a disapproving scowl stretching his mouth into a thin line.

“We just buried our father, and you went out partying, huh?” Maddox muttered. “Some things never change, do they?”

Brett bit his tongue to keep from a retort.

Unable to tell him the truth, he let his brother believe the lesser of the evils, pasted on a cocky grin like he would after an all-night drunk and climbed the steps to his old room.

If his brother knew that he’d buried a murdered man on McCullen land, he’d lock him up and never talk to him again.