Secrets have a way of coming out into the open. Almost always, they’re better told than discovered.
Dylan pulled out of his driveway and turned toward Bozeman where Luke would board a plane to Texas. He’d miss his little brother. Luke had been a big help around the ranch. The kid could hold his own in the saddle.
Luke stretched out in the passenger seat. “You’ve been quiet today.”
His brother was one to talk. “A lot on my mind.” Dylan couldn’t think of anything except Annie lately. All day, moving cattle, all he thought about was Annie. Annie’s smile, Annie’s touch, Annie’s kiss. Annie, Annie, Annie.
And their supposedly impossible relationship.
She just didn’t love him, that’s what it was. If she felt the way he did, she wouldn’t let anything stand between them. And that was the thought that had put a hole in his gut all day.
“Anything you want to talk about?”
“You been watching too many Lifetime movies.”
Luke shrugged. “Sometimes it helps.”
Dylan knew Sierra hadn’t returned. He’d managed to draw that tidbit out of Abigail, who’d heard it from Shay. Annie was probably biting her nails to the quick and wearing holes in her knees. He whispered another prayer for her, for Sierra and the whole mess of their relationship.
As they approached town, he kept his eyes peeled for an old blue Dodge. It was late on Friday, and with the glut of tourists, he couldn’t scan fast enough.
“Keep your eyes open for a blue Dodge pickup, would you?”
Luke looked out his window. “What for?”
“Friend of mine, her sister’s missing. She took off with some guy.”
“What friend?”
He slowed as he went through town. The bank parking lot was empty. Not even John Oakley was working. No blue trucks down Church Street.
“Annie—the woman who helps me with Braveheart.” Maybe he should call around. Someone might know something.
“Annie Wilkerson? You mean Sierra’s missing?”
“You met her?”
Luke’s brows knotted. “She’s— What happened? Tell me now.”
Dylan frowned at Luke’s urgency. “What’s going on?”
“Just tell me what happened! Stop the truck.”
Dylan gave Luke another look, then pulled into the parallel slot in front of the Mocha Moose.
“Annie and her sister got into it last night, and Sierra took off with some guy in a blue truck.”
“A boyfriend?”
Dylan shook his head, eyeing Luke. Something was going on here. “Don’t really know. Annie tried calling her sister; no answer though. You know something, Luke? If you have information—”
“No, but we have to find her! Did Annie call the sheriff?”
“Sierra’s an adult, and she left of her own free will.”
Luke looked out the window. “With a stranger!”
“A stranger to Annie. What’s this all about, Luke? I thought I asked you to stay away from Sierra.” Last thing he needed was to give Annie another reason to be cross with him.
Luke pressed his lips together. “I don’t want to get into it right now. We just need to find her!”
“All right, all right, settle down.”
“An old blue truck? You know about everyone in town, don’t you?”
“Annie thinks it might be someone from MSU.”
“That’s in Bozeman, right? We should look there.”
“Luke, we don’t have time for this. You have a flight in two hours.”
“I don’t care about my flight. I’m not leaving until we find Sierra.”
Dylan looked at his brother’s set jaw. His brother who, by all appearances, seemed smitten with the girl. But how was that possible? He’d been in town less than a month. They’d been apart much of the time. He supposed it was possible he’d been seeing Sierra.
“What are you waiting for?”
Dylan put the truck in reverse and pulled onto Main Street. “It’ll be a needle in a haystack. Bozeman isn’t exactly Moose Creek.”
They could drive around the campus, around the housing area. Most of the students in residence were surely on campus by now. How else could he find that truck?
A service station. His old buddy, the one he got parts from, ran one near the campus. Maybe the guy got it serviced there or filled up there regularly. If he went to MSU, it was likely.
He pulled out his phone.
“Who you calling?”
Dylan held up a finger. “Is Matt in?” he asked when someone answered.
“One minute.”
“Calling a buddy of mine over there.“
“Hello?”
“Hey, Matt, Dylan Taylor here.”
“Dylan, good to hear from you. What’s up? Finally ran into a mechanical problem you couldn’t fix yourself?”
“No, I need your help with something else. Friend of mine might be in trouble. She took off with a guy in an old blue Dodge, probably early ’90s. You work on anything like that? We think the owner is an MSU student.”
“Let me check with my mechanics. Hold on a sec.”
Dylan pulled onto I-90, heading toward Bozeman. “He’s checking.”
Luke squirmed in his seat.
The campus community wasn’t that big. If he was on campus, maybe they could check on Sierra and get Luke to the airport before his plane left.
Several long minutes later, Matt came back on the line. “You might be in luck. Eddie remembers a truck like that. Guy comes in regular for oil changes. Can’t be sure it’s him though.”
“Can I get an address?”
“Only for you, buddy. You didn’t get it here though.”
“You have my word.”
It took awhile for Matt to look up the address. Once he found it, he rambled it off, along with directions. Luke took it down on the back of an old receipt.
“Thanks, man. Owe you one.”
He glanced at the clock. They weren’t far from Bozeman now.
“Can’t you go faster?”
“I’m already topping the speed limit. Relax. I’m sure she’s fine. You wanna tell me what’s going on between you two?”
Luke looked out the window where the August brown buttes rolled by. “Not really.”
“Suit yourself. But I’m getting you to your flight on time. I know you don’t have the money to waste.”
The rest of the ride was tense and quiet. When he reached the campus exit, he took the ramp and followed Luke’s directions to a neighborhood not far from MSU. He pulled down the street, looking for the right address. The streetlights hadn’t come on yet, making the numbers difficult to read in the twilight.
“There’s the truck!” Luke said, leaning forward.
It was parked in front of a brown two-story. Dylan pulled up behind it. The house squatted on a corner lot close to the street. A few trees shaded the withered grass, and a set of crumbling porch steps led to the front door.
Luke’s seat belt was already off, his door open.
Dylan grabbed his arm. “Let me handle this.”
Dylan proceeded up the short walk and onto the porch with Luke following. The front door was open, the sound of a TV commercial leaking out. A window air conditioner hummed from an upstairs window.
A small sign beside the door read Claybourne Portrait Studio. Use side door.
Dylan knocked on the screen door. He looked at Luke, whose feet danced beneath him. He was asking for trouble. “Settle down and step aside.” He wasn’t sure what had gotten into his easygoing brother.
A young man appeared on the other side of the screen. He had a slim build, wore a T-shirt and jeans. His short hair was artfully tousled. “Yeah?”
“Hey,” Dylan said. “We’re friends of Sierra’s. Need to talk to her, if you don’t mind.”
The guy eyed them. “She know you’re coming?”
It was the right place. Dylan smiled, did his best to look harmless, especially with Luke strung tight as a wire beside him. “No, but she won’t mind.”
Without looking away, the man called over his shoulder. “Sierra . . . some friends here to see you.”
A moment later Sierra came into view. She looked perfectly healthy, her auburn hair swept into a ponytail.
She tilted her head, no doubt confused, when she spotted Dylan. She smiled anyway, opening the door. “Hey, Dylan, come on in.”
Dylan moved into the living room.
When Sierra saw Luke, she stopped short. Her eyes widened, her jaw went slack. “Luke.” She looked between them. “What are you doing here?”
“Who’s this guy?” Luke nodded his head toward the guy as he stepped through the door. “Did he hurt you?”
“What do you think, dude?” the man said.
Luke was on him before Dylan could move, had him pinned to the wall in one second flat. “You better not have laid a hand on her, that’s what I think.”
Dylan reached for his brother.
Ryder flew into the room. “Look, Mommy!” he said, waving a paper.
Luke’s eyes swung toward the boy, the guy’s shirt still in his fists.
Sierra’s eyes went wide as silver dollars. She looked at Luke, frozen in place. For reasons Dylan didn’t understand, the air thickened with tension.
“You have a kid?” Luke said. He loosened his hold on the punk. He moved back, his shoulders drooping.
Sierra’s mouth opened. Closed.
Ryder clung to her leg, holding up a drawing. “Look, Mommy.”
But she didn’t look. Couldn’t seem to look at anyone but Luke.
“You have a kid with him?” Luke nodded toward the other man, his pain-filled eyes fastened on Sierra’s.
The guy pushed Luke away belatedly and straightened his shirt. “He’s not mine, dude . . . he’s yours.”