CHAPTER TWELVE

“I told you, I don’t remember,” Randi insisted, but Kelly wasn’t buying it. Propped up in a hospital bed in the guest room of the ranch, her baby cradled in her arms, Randi McCafferty was lying through her teeth. And she wasn’t particularly good at it. Then again, Randi wasn’t interested in anything but her son. Cradling and cooing to her baby, Randi couldn’t have cared less who had tried to kill her. She probably wouldn’t have paid any attention if the world stopped spinning.

As Kelly stood near the bed, Matt filled the doorway, leaning a broad shoulder against the frame. He sent Kelly an I-told-you-so look as Harold sauntered in and circled a few times before lying on the rug at the foot of the bed.

“You asked me to stop by and promised you’d answer some questions,” Kelly reminded Randi.

“I will, when J.R., and that’s not his name, goes to bed. And don’t look at me like I’m insane, okay? Lots of people go home without naming their babies first.” At her brother’s skeptic lift of an eyebrow, she amended, “Well, okay, not lots, but some. And I want the right name for my son. So don’t give me any grief. Go ahead and call him J.R. if you want, but as soon as I come up with the perfect name, we’re changing it.”

“It might be too late,” Matt drawled.

“Never. I’ve dealt with this in some of my columns,” she said, then added, “the value of a name and all that.”

“Didn’t you have one picked out?”

“Yeah. Sarah. Somehow it doesn’t seem to fit. Oh.” Randi grinned as Juanita brushed past Matt and hurried through the door carrying a warmed bottle of formula. “Gracias, Juanita. You’re a doll.”

The housekeeper flushed as Randi accepted the bottle, adjusted the baby in her arms and offered him something to eat. With wide eyes, little J.R., or whatever she was going to name him, stared up at her. He suckled hungrily, but stopped every so often to observe the woman beaming down at him.

“Isn’t he beautiful?” Randi whispered, awestruck at her infant, and Kelly, feeling just the trace of envy, silently agreed.

One side of Matt’s mouth lifted. “And smart as the devil and no doubt athletic as all get out. I figure Harvard will be cablin’ any day now.”

Randi giggled. “I wouldn’t be surprised. How about you, pumpkin?” she asked her baby as Juanita, too, smiled down at mother and child.

“Oh, no, you can’t call him that. ‘Sport’ or ‘big fella’ or something else, they’re okay, but not ‘pumpkin’ or ‘precious’ or any of those cutesy-sissy names, okay?” Matt insisted.

“You hush,” Juanita snorted. “He is an angel. Perfection.”

“And the least you two will give him is a big head,” Matt grumbled. “Look what happened to Slade.”

“I heard that,” the youngest McCafferty brother grumbled as he paused at the door by his brother.

Kelly realized she wouldn’t get any more information until she was with Randi alone. “I’ll talk to you later, once he’s—” she hitched her chin in the baby’s direction “—asleep.”

“Thanks.” Randi was more than appreciative.

“And I…I had better look in on the pies for tomorrow,” Juanita said, bustling off toward the kitchen.

Kelly stepped out of the room.

“See what I mean? She’s not taking anything seriously,” Matt growled, walking into the foyer with her.

“She just wants to take care of her child.”

“And bury her head in the sand. If we don’t find out who tried to kill her and he strikes again, she won’t be worrying about anything, baby or no.” He rubbed the back of his neck in agitation.

“You don’t feel she’s safe here?”

“No, actually, it’s better than the hospital. Not so many people coming and going. No strangers. No reporters.”

“So far,” Kelly said, “but that might not last.”

“Damn. The problem is that Randi doesn’t realize that the most important thing right now…the only thing, is finding out who’s got it in for her. Nothing else can be a priority.”

“Not even a baby?”

Matt’s jaw turned to granite. His lips thinned. “This is all about the baby and keeping him safe. What do you think would happen if Randi lost him?”

“Let’s not even consider that,” Kelly said, her heart stopping at the thought.

“No matter what it takes, we have to find whoever’s behind this.” Frantic footsteps pounded overhead and echoed on the stairs. Over the thunder, the phone jangled somewhere in another room as the twins appeared.

Nicole, carrying two small pairs of jeans, was trying to shepherd her two rambunctious daughters, who, once they reached the bottom step, flew by in a blur of dark curls, rosy cheeks and mischief sparkling in two sets of bright eyes. Neither was wearing anything but a sweatshirt and panties.

“Never a dull minute around here,” Nicole said, shoving her hair from her eyes as her daughters tore down the hall. “All I want them to do is try on their dresses for the wedding and you’d have thought I’d asked to handcuff and shackle them.”

Matt’s grin spread wide. “Maybe you should let their stepfather handle that.”

“Now, that’s a great idea!” Nicole said as Thorne, appearing in the hallway from the doorway to the den, called, “It’s Kavanaugh on the phone for you, Matt.”

“Excuse me,” Matt said, and hurried off toward the den.

“I’ll be right back, after I corral the girls.” Nicole added, “Why don’t you meet me in the kitchen and we can get to know each other?”

“In a minute,” Kelly promised, thinking she might try to speak with Randi one more time. Matt was right. Finding out who was trying to kill his half sister was her top priority. It was also her job, something she was losing sight of a bit. Because of her feelings for Matt.

All her life she’d wanted to follow her father’s footsteps and become a cop. She’d been focused. Determined. Hadn’t even let any relationships deter her. Until now.

God, she was hopeless.

Loving Matthew McCafferty had changed everything.

She lingered at the doorway, hoping Slade would say his goodbyes and exit. From the kitchen she heard the twins talking and giggling as the scents of cinnamon and nutmeg mingled with the fragrances of baked apples and pumpkin. She couldn’t hear what Matt was saying, but every once in a while heard the low rumble of his voice. It had been so easy, too easy to fall in love with him.

She stared at the pictures mounted on the wall—the McCafferty photo gallery—and stopped at the one of Matt astride the bucking bronco. He was much younger then, of course, a wild cowboy, as untamed as the animal he was astride. A hell-raiser. And a heartbreaker. Anita Espinoza was just one of many women who’d hoped they’d be the one to capture his wayward heart.

Just like you.

As the noise from the kitchen muted, Kelly couldn’t help but overhear the conversation between Randi and Slade through the open doorway of her bedroom.

“I mean, what’s going on?” Randi was asking. “I was out of it for little more than a month and I wake up not only with this precious little guy, but to find out that Thorne, Thorne of all people, is head over heels in love and planning to get married! Who would have thought? He was as confirmed a bachelor as anyone I’ve ever seen. And then there’s Matt—what in the world’s going on with him? I was under the distinct impression that the ranch he fought so hard to buy was the most important thing in his world, that nothing and no one could hold a candle to it, at least not in his estimation. He practically sold his soul to Satan to buy the damned thing. Now all that’s changed.”

“He’s just worried about you,” Slade said, and Randi laughed.

“My eye! I see the way he is around that detective—the one who was in here earlier.”

“Kelly,” Slade supplied, and Kelly stiffened.

“Yes, Kelly. Matt’s a different man around her. In fact, you’d think she was the only woman on the planet from the way he looks at her.”

Kelly smiled and silently reprimanded herself for eavesdropping. Yet, she couldn’t help herself.

“It might not be as serious as you think.”

“What, because of that woman…Nell, in the town where he lives?”

“That’s been over for months.”

Kelly froze. Matt had never mentioned another woman. No one had. But you knew he’d had lots of affairs, didn’t you? He’s a virile man. Why wouldn’t there be a woman back home? Damn it, why wouldn’t there be half a dozen, considering that you’re thinking about Matt McCafferty?

“I have eyes, Slade. The guy’s in love, whether he knows it or not.”

“Or it’s an act. You know how he is with women. One comes along and he’s in love, head over heels for a few weeks until…until…”

There was a long pause. Kelly felt her chest constrict.

“Until she becomes just another notch in his belt.”

“I wasn’t going to say it that way.”

Kelly’s heart plummeted.

“Okay, so let’s say a scratch on the bedpost, a conquest, a quick roll in the hay, any way you say it, it comes out the same, doesn’t it? All part of the old, sick double standard.” Randi’s voice inched up an octave and fairly shook with outrage at her brother’s actions. Meanwhile, Kelly wanted to die.

“Hey, wait a minute, what’s got you so riled?” Slade demanded.

“I just don’t like the whole idea.”

Amen, Kelly thought.

“It’s degrading. Demeaning to women. In my job I see it every day. Women write me in reams about men who use them, pretend to be interested, make the woman think he’s falling in love, then up and turn tail and run the other direction the minute she starts to get serious. It’s age-old, Slade, and it’s common.”

“I’m just filling you in, but I thought you didn’t remember much about your job. About your life. You know, I’m starting to think that’s a crock, little sis. Don’t tell me, let me guess, someone did a number on you. Right? Like maybe the baby’s father?”

There was a tense, thick moment and Kelly wished she could witness Randi’s expression. Despite her own embarrassment, Kelly still needed to know about the father of Randi’s child. “We were talking about Matt and his women…I was hoping he was over all that love-’em-and-leave-’em adolescent garbage.”

“It was Striker’s idea,” Slade explained. “He thought one of us should stay in tight with the police, keep an eye on the investigation.”

“Why? Because you don’t trust the police?” she asked, just as the baby started to cry.

“We just want to know what’s going on. Sometimes the cops can be pretty closemouthed.”

“So Striker suggested that Matt fall in love with…no, wait a minute, that Matt get the policewoman into bed…Oh, God, Slade, tell me that’s not what it was all about. Tell me that Matt isn’t using that detective, because she’s pretty damned clever and she won’t fall for any of that, besides which, it’s just…just disgusting.”

Kelly wanted to drop through the smooth patina of the old plank floorboards.

“He was hoping there might be a little pillow talk,” Slade said over the baby’s wail.

Sick inside, Kelly felt her knees start to go weak. Don’t do this, Dillinger. Chin up. Spine stiff. Shoulders square. You’re a professional. A detective.

“Then he’s an idiot, because that woman impresses me as way too sharp to fall for that. In fact, she’s probably too good for him!” Randi added, obviously furious. “And whether he knows it or not, he’s falling in love. I’d like to throttle him and you and Striker and whoever else is involved.”

You and me both. Heat flooded up Kelly’s cheeks and she was mortified. What a fool she’d been.

The baby was still crying, and Randi must’ve turned her attention to her child, because she said, “Now, now…shh.” Kelly had heard more than enough. On silent footsteps she moved into the living room and pretended interest in some farming magazine as Slade strode out of the bedroom. From the corner of her eye she caught him send her a dark glance, then take off toward the kitchen just as Matt emerged from the den into the hallway.

Her heart wrenched and she silently called herself the worst kind of fool imaginable.

“Sorry about that,” he said, and there wasn’t a glimmer of a smile in his voice. “The guy who’s supposed to be taking care of my spread called from his place. He slipped, fell and broke his leg, so it looks like I’m going to be taking the next plane home.”

She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “I understand.” More than you know, McCafferty. A helluva lot more.

“I won’t be around here tomorrow for the belated Thanksgiving festivities.”

And your invitation is withdrawn. He didn’t say it, but it was there hanging in the air between them.

She grabbed her jacket from the hooks near the door. Shoved her arms through the sleeves. Reached into a pocket for her gloves. “Don’t worry about it. I already celebrated,” she said, inwardly cringing when she heard the drip of ice in her voice. Get over it, Dillinger. It wasn’t that big of a deal. She pulled on her gloves. “I’d better shove off. Randi’s not interested in talking to anyone in the sheriff’s department right now. I’ll be back.”

She started for the door, and when he tried to reach for her elbow, she yanked her arm away from his outstretched fingers; she’d fallen for that trick one too many times as it was. Then she remembered how she’d turned the tables on him, spun him around by his arm just a few hours earlier and kissed him hard. Oh, what an idiot she’d been.

“Kelly?”

“I’m wise to you, McCafferty.” She reached for the door, not bothering to explain. Let him think that she was talking about his little trick of whirling her into his arms. It didn’t matter that she meant something much more serious.

With a hard yank she opened the door and walked into a biting wind that snatched the breath from her lungs and rattled the panes of the windows. But she didn’t care. The sting of the icy blast felt good against her hot cheeks, shook her out of her dark reverie, reminded her that she wasn’t dead, though she was beginning to feel hollow inside.

“I’ll walk you.” He was beside her, not bothering with his jacket and matching her short, furious strides with his longer ones.

“Don’t bother.”

“It’s no bother.”

“I’m a cop, McCafferty. I can make it to my rig alone.”

“Wait a minute.”

She didn’t; she just kept walking, plowing through the crunchy blanket of white, barely noticed that small, icy crystals were falling from the dark sky again.

“Kelly, what the hell happened?” he demanded when she threw open the door of her SUV.

“I woke up,” she said as she climbed behind the steering wheel. “Look, Matt, I’ve got to go. I’ll be back to talk to Randi and I’ll keep you posted on everything that’s happening with the investigation, but I’ve done some thinking and I really don’t think it’s a good idea for either of us to become too involved right now.”

“Wait a damned minute—”

“Look, Seattle was nice, but I think I’d better keep my perspective.” And my distance. She ignored the questions in his dark eyes, the play of night shadows across his strong features, the pain ripping through her heart. “I’d hate to do anything to compromise my professionalism.”

“I thought we’d talked this through already.”

“And I rethought it. The thing is that you and I have different interests. We’re at different places in our lives.”

“This sounds like a canned speech.”

“It’s not. I’ve got my job. You’ve got your ranch.”

“So?”

“That’s all there is to say. I’m going to wrap up this investigation or die trying, and you’re going back to the Idaho border.” She twisted the keys in the ignition. “Goodbye, Matt.” Her heart wrenched at the words and she saw the mixed emotions crossing his features. Disbelief, distrust and a seething anger evident in the throb of a vein at his temple.

Tough.

He’d get over it, she decided as she jammed the SUV into gear and cranked on the steering wheel.

He always did.

* * *

What in the hell just happened? Matt threw a couple of pair of jeans, two shirts and his shaving gear into his duffel bag and couldn’t make heads nor tails of Kelly’s change in attitude. One minute she’d been flirting with him and he’d been coming close to being envious of Thorne and Nicole, because they, not he and Kelly, were getting hitched; the next minute, after he’d taken the call from Kavanaugh, she’d been as cool as the proverbial cucumber, telling him in so many words that their love affair—so hot and torrid only days before—was over.

He wasn’t buying it.

No woman would respond the way she did, then turn away. Not without a reason, and a damned good one.

He yanked the zipper closed and slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder. With one last glance around the room he’d reclaimed, he ignored the feeling that he was leaving more than a scarred old double bed and a collection of ancient, dusty rodeo trophies.

Nope, there was more here. Not only his brothers and half sister, but the twins, the baby and Kelly. God, why did it hurt to think that he wouldn’t see her for a few days, and worse yet he might never get to kiss her again, touch her, make love to her?

Get over it, she’s just a woman, he tried to tell himself, but the pep talk didn’t work. Because that was the crux of the problem. She wasn’t just a woman.

Hell.

He didn’t have time to second-guess himself. He had to go back to his spread tonight. He’d put it off too long already, and Striker was camping out here at the ranch. Along with Thorne, Slade and their father’s arsenal supplied by Remington and Winchester, Randi and the baby should be safe.

And Matt was coming back. Soon. Because of his family. Because of the unanswered questions surrounding the attempts on Randi’s life, but most important, because of Kelly.

* * *

“What do you mean you’re not going to the wedding?” Karla asked, checking her watch and shoving the remainder of the pizza she and Kelly shared across the table toward her sister. They were seated in Montana Joe’s, not far from the glassy-eyed bison head, while the noon lunch crowd swarmed the counter, stomping snow from their boots and unwrapping their scarves to expose red noses as they tugged off gloves and ordered from plastic-covered menus. An old Madonna song played over the buzz of conversation and the shout from a loudspeaker for an order to go.

“I thought you were all hot to trot to do anything you could with the McCafferty clan.”

“You make it sound like I’m a traitor.”

“Are you?” Karla lifted an eyebrow, then reached across the table and pulled a piece of ham off the leftover pizza.

“I don’t think so. But I did think that mixing business and pleasure wasn’t such a hot idea.”

Sighing, Karla plopped back on the cushions of the booth. “That’s depressing!” She tossed her napkin on the remaining slices of the Hawaiian Paradise they couldn’t quite finish.

“I didn’t think you approved.”

“I didn’t. Don’t. But…oh, damn, I was beginning to believe that there was such a thing as true love again, you know? I mean…it was kind of like one of those star-crossed-lovers things with the feuding families. Kind of a Romeo and Juliet scenario.”

“In your rose-colored dreams.”

“I thought maybe I’d just been unlucky and that there was still a chance. You know, that if you found love, maybe I would, too, and that the third time would be the charm.”

“Sorry to dash your hopes,” Kelly said, then sighed as she checked her watch. “You know, Karla, you’re a hopeless romantic.”

“I know it’s my one serious character flaw.”

“You’ve only got one.”

“Absolutely.”

“More bad news. It’s ten till one.”

“Oh, damn. I gotta run. I’ve got a wash and set for one of my regulars.” Karla scrambled out of her side of the booth and threw on a wool poncho and floppy-brimmed suede hat.

“You look like a bad guy out of one of those old, old Clint Eastwood movies.”

“Make my day.”

“Older,” Kelly said, “one of those spaghetti westerns.”

“Guess I missed it on the late-late show,” Karla said as she adjusted the string. “But seriously, Kelly, you might want to rethink this Matt McCafferty thing. Mom and Dad will get used to the idea. No one’s had a heart attack or a stroke over it. Well, not yet, anyway.”

“What’s with the turnaround?” Kelly asked, standing and reaching for the jacket she’d slung over the back of the booth.

“It’s simple. I just want you to be happy, and these past few weeks you’ve been a whole lot more lighthearted. It’s nice to see you smile.”

“I do.”

“Not all the time. The job gets to you whether you want to admit it or not. And you’re alone. That’s not good. Your work is your life, I know. You practically work twenty-four-seven and that’s also not good. It’s bringing you down, Kell. You look half dead as it is.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“I’m not kidding. You can’t be a policewoman day in and day out.”

Kelly wanted to protest but didn’t. For once, Karla was making a lot of sense. And she had been working long hours. Ever since leaving Matt at the Flying M the other night, she’d thrown herself body and soul into the case, digging up information on friends and family of the McCaffertys’, searching out anything she could about Randi’s job and her work acquaintances. Someone wanted her dead. Kelly was determined to find out who it was. And soon. She’d had less than five hours’ sleep in two nights, but she was getting closer to the truth, she could feel it.

“It’s a hard job and you’re good at it, but it’s bleeding you dry,” Karla was saying. “I’ve seen it. You need some fun in your life. We all do. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you lightened up about the same time that Matt McCafferty rode bareback into your life!”

“So now you know what’s best for me.”

“I always have.” Karla flashed her a smile as they walked through the heavy doors to the outside. “I just wish I could figure out what’s best for me.”

With a wave, she jaywalked back to her shop and Kelly, surprised at her sister’s turnaround, unlocked her four-wheel drive and drove out of town. She had avoided the Flying M on the day the McCaffertys had designated for Thanksgiving, but she wasn’t giving up on talking to Randi. She still had a job to do, and it would be considerably less difficult with Matt out of the picture. If she was lucky, she could avoid him all together.

At that thought her throat tightened and the heaviness in her heart, the ache she’d tried to ignore, throbbed painfully. “You’ll get over it,” she told herself as she took a corner a little too fast and felt her rig shimmy before the tires took hold. “You’ve got no choice.”

With her own words ringing in her ears, she drove to the Flying M and made her way into the now-familiar ranch house. Jenny Riley, a slim girl with a nose ring and tie-dyed tunic over a long skirt, let her inside. “Randi’s in the living room, and Kurt Striker is talking with Thorne in the den,” she explained when Kelly stated her business.

Great. The P.I. who didn’t trust the police and who had egged Matt on to get some “pillow talk.” Kelly would like nothing better than to strangle that lowlife. He might be a hell of an investigator, but he was the one who’d suggested Matt get close to her to glean information about his sister’s case.

“Do you want me to tell them you’re here?”

“No. I’d rather speak to Randi alone.”

“Then could I get you something? Coffee, tea or cocoa? I’m on my way to take the girls to their ballet lesson, but I have time to bring you a cup, and Juanita will skin me alive if I don’t offer you something.”

“I’m fine. Really. Just ate,” Kelly said, and as a shriek from one of the twins soared to the rafters of the kitchen, Jenny took off down the hall while Kelly, hauling her briefcase with her, walked into the living room.

Randi was half lying on the couch, a small cradle near her side where the baby was sleeping quietly. Kelly couldn’t help but smile at the crown of reddish hair peeking from beneath an embroidered quilt. “He’s adorable,” she said, wishing she had a child of her own.

“Isn’t he?” Randi waved Kelly into a chair near her, one that faced the fireplace where embers glowed red and flames crackled and hissed. “Sit,” she ordered and, as Kelly dropped into the chair with its back to the foyer, asked, “Would you like something?”

“Just answers, Randi.” Kelly sat on the edge of one of the rockers and leaned forward, her gaze locking with the new mother’s. “I know you want to keep the baby safe, and I think you know more than you’re saying. Either you’re covering up or afraid to say the truth, or don’t realize how much danger you and your boy are in, but I’ve got to tell you that without your help the investigation is stymied.” Randi glanced away, her gaze traveling from Kelly to the window and beyond, where snow was drifting against the fence and barn.

She hesitated. Tapped her fingers on the edge of the couch.

“Do you know anyone who would want to kill you?”

“You mean other than my brothers?” Randi joked.

“I’m being serious.”

“I know.” Her smile disappeared. “I probably have some enemies, but I don’t remember them.”

“Do you remember the man who fathered your child?”

Randi stiffened, picked at a scratch in the arm of the leather couch. “I’m…I’m still working on that.”

“It won’t help to lie.”

“I said I’m working on it.” Randi’s index finger stopped working on the scratch.

“Okay, so what about the book you were writing?”

Was it Kelly’s imagination or did Randi pale a bit?

“It’s fiction.”

“About corruption in the rodeo circuit.”

“That’s the backdrop, yes.”

“Does it have anything to do with your father or your brothers?”

“No. Other than I got the idea for it from Dad, I think—Look, this is all kind of fuzzy.”

“How about Sam Donahue? He’s a cowboy and was involved in rodeo work. He still supplies stock to the national competitions, doesn’t he?”

“I said it was fuzzy.”

“You and he dated.”

“I…I think that’s true. I remember Sam.”

“Could he be the father of your child?”

Randi didn’t answer, and in true McCafferty fashion, her jaw slid forward in stubborn defiance.

“Okay, so what about your job? Do you remember anything about it? Anything that you might have been working on that would have caused someone to want to kill you?”

“I wrote advice columns. I suppose someone could have taken offense, but I don’t remember them.”

“What about Joe Paterno? The photojournalist you worked with? Do you remember him?”

Randi swallowed hard.

“You dated him.”

“Did I?”

“When he was in town. He’s gone on assignment a lot. Rents a studio over a garage in one of those old homes in the Queen Anne’s district of Seattle when he’s in the Northwest.”

“As I said, I really don’t remember. Not details. Names are familiar, but…” Kelly was ready. She snapped open her briefcase and slid three pictures across the coffee table. One was of Joe Paterno, his camera poised as he was about to snap a shot, while someone took a picture of him. The second was a color copy of a photo from a newspaper in Calgary. The grainy shot was of Sam Donahue, a rangy blond with a cowboy hat tilted back on his head and his eyes squinted against a harsh, intense sun. In the background penned horses and cattle were visible. The third photo was a glossy eight-by-ten of Brodie Clanton. Wearing a suit, tie and the thousand-watt grin of a lawyer with political ambitions, he stared into the camera as if it were his lover.

“Well,” Randi said, leaning forward and separating the photos and eyeing each one. “You’ve certainly been busy.”