Eliza woke up with the sunshine streaming through wooden blinds that she should have closed before she went to bed. After a meeting with Wyatt’s employee, Jim Bryant, it was decided she should be hidden in plain sight at the Beach Hotel.

The vast structure with its many rooms facing the surf was a delight. From the circus-like atmosphere of entertainers on the beach—whom she had to settle for watching from the safety of her room—to the luxurious accommodations, the Beach Hotel had become a new favorite of hers overnight.

Without any firm plans for meeting with John or his associate Jim Bryant, Eliza could lounge in bed this morning without any guilt. She turned over in bed to avoid the blinding sun and closed her eyes again. Thoughts of yesterday’s kiss in the sailboat drifted toward her on smooth waters, and she relived every moment of it again. And again.

Then came the knock at the door to her bedchamber. She bolted upright and wrapped a blanket around herself, then stopped just short of the door. “Who is it?”

“A delivery, miss,” a masculine voice said.

“A delivery of what?” she asked.

“The box was sent over from the Tremont Hotel, so I don’t know.”

Eliza sighed. “All right. Just leave it right there, and I’ll get it when I can.”

“I’m sorry, miss, but I was instructed to get a signature to show that the delivery has been made.”

She shook her head and gathered the blanket tighter around her. “All right. I’ll open the door just enough to sign and no more than that.”

“That’s fine, miss.”

One hand turned the crystal doorknob as the other reached into the space between the door and its frame to grasp the pen the deliveryman held. Instead, a hand grasped hers and pushed her backward to the floor.

A second later, the door slammed shut and Ben was on top of her. Eliza screamed, but the sound was quickly drowned out by his hand over her mouth.

“It’s time to go home to Austin, Eliza,” he told her, his face inches from hers. “Your beach vacation is over.”

She squirmed and kicked and fought him until he slapped her. Then Eliza kicked harder. Ben pressed his hand against her mouth, and she bit him. When he moved away, she screamed.

“No one can hear you,” he said. “The surf is too loud.”

Eliza didn’t care. She went to the window and stuck her head out, calling to the people on the beach four floors below. Ben was right. They couldn’t hear.

And then his hand went around her throat and she couldn’t scream. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

Something replaced his hand. A cloth of some kind. Then she could breathe but gagged when she tried to say anything.

Ben tied her hands together behind her back, turned her around, and led her to a chair beside the bed. He stood there and stared down at her. “Why are you so dramatic, Eliza?”

She glared at him. He continued to study her. Anger simmered just beneath the surface, but Eliza couldn’t let it control her. If she was going to get out of this room alive, she would have to be smart.

“Did you think I would let this little visit with your old pal go on forever? You had to know I wouldn’t. Now as soon as you’re ready to be reasonable, we can get on our way back home. I’ve been asked to take part in the Fourth of July parade, and people will talk if my new bride isn’t with me.”

The idea of pretending to be his happy spouse was repulsive. Still, she showed no emotion.

“I saw you yesterday from the beach. You two were getting cozy. If I didn’t know you were married to me, I would wonder why you were kissing another man. But you are married to me, sweetheart.” He paused. “Yet you did kiss him. I would ask what you have to say for yourself, but you can’t talk, can you?”

Her eyes narrowed. She seethed.

Ben moved closer, then lifted the chair next to hers into the air. Waiting for the blow, Eliza closed her eyes and cringed.

Instead, he set the chair directly in front of her and cupped her jaw very much like John had last night. She moved her head out of his reach, and he merely smiled.

“You don’t like my touch as well as his, do you?” He shrugged. “It was always that way. I adored you, Eliza Gentry. I was the one who moved heaven and earth to go on that cattle drive just to be with you, and all you wanted to do was lie on a rock and look up at the stars with that idiot Wyatt Gentry. And now all you want to do is kiss him.”

Eliza stared at Ben. He’d certainly lost his mind. There was no other explanation.

“Oh?” He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “He didn’t tell you who he was, did he?” A smile rose. “Now that is interesting. All this time, I thought he’d surely told you by now. But he hasn’t.”

Her mind reeled. What was he trying to say? No, Eliza decided, Ben was just trying to confuse her. She swallowed hard and then gagged with the effort.

“Keep it up and you’ll choke,” he said. “And don’t think I haven’t considered that I might get more votes as a grieving widower whose new bride met a tragic death, but unless it is an accident, there will always be a cloud of suspicion. Choking in a hotel room is not going to work in this scenario.”

She sat very still but allowed her eyes to scan the room. Two windows opened to the back of the building where the surf pounded against the sand. There was only one exit door, and it was blocked by Ben.

The only way out was to go around him.

Until she had a plan to do that, all Eliza could do was pray. She closed her eyes, intent on some elaborate prayer. Instead, all she could manage was, Father, help Your daughter, please. I am afraid.

“You’ve probably decided that I am a monster, Eliza, but I’m not. If you let me, I would give you the world. But you ran off. Again. Just like you did when you disappeared to New Orleans.” He shook his head. “I should have just gone through with the wedding to Beatrice. She knew how to treat a man, Eliza. She adored me. She would have done anything to become Mrs. Barnhart. But you?”

Ben shook his head and then held up two fingers close together. “I was this close to marrying her. We had a wedding date. I am certain she and her mother had it all planned out. Then she announced that we would be taking a European tour for at least half a year, and the other half we would live with her mother in Philadelphia. Does any of that sound like something I would be interested in doing?”

Eliza gave no indication of a reaction to his question. To do that would give him the impression she was participating in the conversation. Which she absolutely was not.

“She would have relented, of course. And I would have insisted we come back to Texas immediately. The judge and I have a plan, and it doesn’t involve waiting until next year to begin my campaign.”

He paused as if he was considering his words. Or perhaps reliving a memory. Either way, an unpleasant look crossed his features.

“Then I heard that Will Gentry had an old friend of ours looking after you. The John Brady Detective Agency was on the job.” He paused to sneer. “I never did find out where he got that name, but it didn’t matter. I could give you up for money and a wife who would do what I told her to do, but I sure wasn’t going to let Wyatt Creed have you.”

Her mind refused to wrap around that statement. Refused to consider the words of a madman.

“Oh, you still don’t believe me.” He shrugged, his voice cold and even. “All right, try this scenario on for size. There are two witnesses to a shooting on the trail, me and Wyatt. We tell different stories, but the gun belongs to Wyatt. Your father sends me back to Waco to face my father’s wrath and then pretends to shoot Wyatt Creed and bury him next to his father.”

Eliza shook her head. The lies this man spoke were unconscionable.

“Yes, Eliza. That is what happened. Wyatt Creed walked away from camp under cover of darkness. Will Gentry kept tabs on him and, when he needed him, called him into service to keep his family safe. The only problem is, Wyatt’s presence anywhere near you is what ruined everything.”

He paused. “You’re wondering why.”

This time she nodded. As long as he was going to spin a tale, she wanted to hear all of it so she could report back to John just how crazy Ben Barnhart was.

“Four people were there that night. Wyatt and me and your father and then Red.” He held up four fingers. “I had Red handled until I heard he wasn’t dead after all. Wyatt is easy to control. He’s got a secret that cannot get out, so he steers clear of me. But you and your father, that’s harder. See, the unfortunate truth is that William Gentry isn’t afraid of anyone or anything. He only has one soft spot, and that’s you and your mama and siblings. I like your brothers. They’re friends of mine. Or were, though likely they won’t want to maintain that friendship if they’ve spoken with your father about me.”

He rose abruptly and went to the window. “I had to find a way to keep your father quiet. I knew you’d figure out that Wyatt still lived eventually. If either of you spoke out about what happened that night on the trail, I would lose all hope of holding public office. The people of Texas are funny about electing someone who’s committed murder.”

She gasped and then choked. Ben laughed.

“Oh, another piece of the puzzle you didn’t know about.” He shrugged and returned to his chair. “Yes, I shot the old man. He was talking out of his head. Saying things and…” He paused. “Never mind the details, but with you married to me, your father and you are both kept quiet about all that. William Gentry won’t ruin the man who has fathered his grandchildren. And you, as the mother of my children, wouldn’t dare hurt my career. Think of the shame our children would have to endure. So now we all get what we want. But only when you give up this adventure you’re on and come back with me.”

Ben leaned toward her. Panic rose. Her eyes widened.

“John Brady is Wyatt Creed. Your father allowed that to happen. No, he encouraged it. Your father has lied to you. Wyatt Creed has lied to you. I am the only one who has told the truth. So will you calmly walk out of this room with me and return to Austin, or do I need to send for the trunk I have waiting downstairs and have you carried out that way?”

He paused. “Look at me. You know I’m telling the truth and you know I’m right. Think about it. The eyes. The slash across his neck that healed wrong. The way he moons over you. The way your father trusted only him to watch his wife and daughter. It all adds up to only one thing.”

His words sank in slowly. The absolute knowledge for most of her life that Wyatt couldn’t have died on the trail had been attributed to grief. But maybe it wasn’t grief.

She closed her eyes and recalled the memory of yesterday. Of John’s profile. Of his face. Of… Eliza swallowed hard. Of the faint scar she recollected on his neck.

Then there was that moment at his gate when he called her Liza Jane. Only Wyatt Creed called her that.

Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to cry in front of Ben.

Ben was right. Papa had lied. Wyatt had lied. Even Red had lied.

But Ben Barnhart had told her the truth.

The woman seated across from him in his office on Twenty-Seventh Street was articulate, well-to-do, and hysterical. He’d invited her here this morning after a telegram reached him yesterday evening requesting time with the agency’s owner this morning. The topic was Ben Barnhart.

Wyatt had quickly responded and then instructed Bryant to be there as well. Now he sat behind his desk, a half hour into an emotional monologue from Miss Beatrice Cunningham that involved broken promises, a ruined wedding, and a broken heart.

“So you see, I chose the John Brady Detective Agency specifically because I believe you can help me. I came to see you several times in the past month, but you weren’t here. Your wife is quite rude.”

“My wife?” He shook his head. “No, I am not married.”

“Well, that’s interesting. Your wife, Janie, is quite protective of you. She said I was to send a message through the post office box and you would pick that message up when you returned. I was to stay away from her home and you. She told me she did not allow other women here. Truly, I was only trying to hire you, but she was adamant. So was that neighbor lady who takes tea with her regularly. I finally stopped coming by and left a message in your post office box. And here we are.” She paused. “So let me tell you again so you understand just what happened.”

Then she was off again. She paused only to dab at her eyes and even then not long enough to let him or Bryant get a word in.

“Miss Cunningham,” Wyatt finally said, interrupting a tearful story she’d already told twice, “please just let me see if I understand what the trouble is.”

He looked past her to where Jim sat quietly taking notes and then returned his attention to the pale creature before him. “Ben Barnhart broke off his recent engagement with you and has disappeared.”

“No.” She dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “He ruined the wedding when he suggested we elope. We did and then he was gone the next day. And no, he has not disappeared. He is here in Galveston.”

Ben exchanged a look with Bryant. “How do you know this?”

“Mr. Brady, yours is not the only detective agency available for hire. I previously did business with the Pinkertons. They tracked Ben from Philadelphia to New Orleans and provided me with the information that led to you. A telegram reached me this morning that one of the agents had read in the Austin American Statesman that prospective candidate for political office Benjamin Barnhart and his wife were in Galveston on a belated honeymoon. Imagine the luck. Especially since he already has a wife.”

“Imagine.” He stood and nodded for Bryant to meet him in the hall. “Would you give me just a minute of time with my associate, please?”

Wyatt stepped around the desk and went into the hall. “I’m going to get Eliza and bring her here. The jilted bride is yours now. See if she has any more information on Barnhart that might help us.”

“Boss, you can’t go alone,” he said.

“Yet I plan to. On second thought, set up a meeting with Miss Cunningham for tomorrow. Stall her somehow. Don’t make her think we’re not taking her seriously. Then meet me at the Beach Hotel.”

Bryant nodded and returned to the office. Wyatt checked his revolver for bullets and headed out. Before he stepped outside, he lifted his eyes to the heavens and said a prayer that Eliza Gentry would be found safe.

Ben Barnhart? He’d have to work on that whole praying-for-your-enemies thing. For now he’d settle for praying that he didn’t have to take the man’s life. Let the hangman do it after a proper trial.