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Bryce stared at the text message. Grady missing. All hands on deck.
So much for his plans for the night. Cecily had dashed into the bathroom, come out in a flowing, half-transparent, toenail-matching red robe and whisked into the living room for her phone. She came back a moment later, phone to her ear.
“What happened?” she asked. A pause. Her jaw dropped. “We’ll be right there.”
She set the phone on the night table. “Grady’s gone. We have to get to the ranch.”
“I kind of guessed that with the All hands on deck message.” Bryce reached for his jeans. The urgency in Cecily’s tone did wonders on the deflation front, even seeing her in that red transparency. Ignoring shirt and shoes, he went downstairs for the bag he’d stuck in the trunk of his car. The one he’d packed in anticipation of staying the night so he could have extra time with Cecily instead of going home to change.
When he got back, Cecily wore her normal ranch attire. Bryce went into the bathroom, almost reluctantly washing Cecily’s scent from his hands. Cecily had eyed his go bag with barely a raised eyebrow. Rather, she flashed a knowing smile.
“One or two cars?” she asked.
“I’d rather not drive the Torino on the ranch roads,” he said. “I could go home and swap it for my pickup. Did Derek give you an idea of urgency?”
“No, just that he didn’t think Grady had run off on his own accord.”
“I’ll ride with you. Save some time.”
“You know, we’ll be outed if we arrive together,” she said.
“Will it bother you?”
“I have a feeling my big brother already knows there’s something going on between us.”
Too bad Bryce hadn’t figured it out sooner. He gave Cecily a quick kiss. “I’m going to take a rain check on the rest of our night.”
After playing musical cars, leaving his Torino in Cecily’s garage, they sped to the ranch. “Has Derek called the cops?” he said.
“I didn’t ask.”
Bryce figured Derek would have relayed any critical information. He’d included Cecily in his text, so he assumed Derek wanted to handle things in-house first, before involving the authorities. He considered the ramifications to Cecily’s project if the cops got involved, and wondered if Derek was doing the smarter thing by trying to fix it first. He checked his phone and noted Frank and Tim had been included in the text as well.
Then again, the cops had to deal with rules, regulations, and red tape. Derek and his hands had served together in the Rangers and were used to dealing with danger. Why was Bryce assuming they were heading into danger?
He stifled a laugh. Why else would Derek have called them all in after twenty-two hundred hours on a Friday night?
When they pulled up at the ranch house, Tim’s pickup was already there. He and Derek stood on the front porch, along with Sabrina, who had her arm looped around Derek’s waist. Cecily jumped out of the car and raced up the steps. Bryce followed, but at a more sedate pace. No point in rushing until you knew what you were rushing into. Charlie trotted to Bryce’s side, tail wagging, but lacking his usual enthusiasm. Bryce scratched his ears. “You know something’s wrong, don’t you, boy?”
Cecily peppered Derek with questions. “What happened? Where could he have gone? Do you think it has anything to do with the cattle killer? Do you think he’s hurt? Did you call the Sheriff’s Department yet? Do you want me to do it?”
“Slow down, Sis. Frank should be here in a couple of minutes. I’d rather not repeat myself. Why don’t you go into the house.”
Her eyes, filled with desire a short time ago, were now clouded with concern.
“He’s right,” Bryce said. “We can’t be running in six directions at once.” Before she could object, Frank’s pickup rolled up the drive.
They gathered in the living room while Derek filled them in. “Sabrina and I were out. When we got home, Charlie was going nuts. I let him out, and he hightailed it toward the guesthouse. Something didn’t feel right, so I followed. The front door was wide open, there was a shattered mug of hot chocolate on the floor, and a minor mess, but no Grady. I put out the call, and here we are.”
“Why didn’t you call the Sheriff’s Department?” Cecily asked. “Report a kidnapping.”
“We don’t know it was a kidnapping,” Derek said.
“What else could it be?” Cecily paced to the window. “You can’t possibly think Grady would have staged the whole thing and run off? Where would he go? How would he get there?”
Bryce relayed his thoughts about involving the Sheriff’s Department before they had better information, and how it might impact Cecily’s program.
She halted mid-stride. “You’re right. I didn’t think of that. Thanks. So, let’s go check things out.”
“Is the surveillance equipment still activated, or did you shut it down when the cops picked up the suspect?” Frank asked.
Derek frowned. “Never activated it. All the points of entry were from the perimeter, not the main entrance, and trying to cover the entire ranch seemed pointless for a few animals.”
Bryce knew every head was important to Derek, but the rancher had to consider the big picture as well. The cost of the kind of surveillance they’d have needed would be a hell of a lot more than the value of what they’d lost. Without the threat of additional rustling, it made no sense to put cameras all over the ranch.
“I left the Gator at the guesthouse,” Derek said. “I didn’t want to drive it up here, in case I’d be contaminating potential evidence. Since I didn’t know there was anything wrong, I wasn’t careful when I walked down, so I might have disturbed other clues.”
“Sitting around here isn’t getting things done. Why don’t we head to the guesthouse,” Tim said. “Time’s a wasting.”
“Hot date?” Frank smirked at the other cowboy.
Tim flipped him off, glanced in Cecily’s direction. “I was thinking about finding Grady.”
Definitely a hot date, Bryce thought. Looks like two of them weren’t getting lucky tonight. Maybe more than two, since Sabrina had said she had work to do and had gone home.
“How you want to do it, D-Man?” Tim asked.
Derek’s brows knit together, and he turned to Frank. “What do you think, Sherlock?”
“It’s dark, and if someone came for Grady, it’ll be tricky to pick up any evidence along the road. Too dry to leave tracks, so you wouldn’t have disturbed much. Odds are there’ll be better chances to find something useful in the guesthouse.”
Tim had his hat on and was heading for the door. “We gonna walk or pile into a truck?”
Frank spoke up. “Can’t see how one pickup’s going to be a problem, but maybe you should walk the route, Tim. In case there’s something there.”
“You’re the one with the super-sleuth powers, Sherlock,” Tim said. “Why don’t you walk?”
“Would you two stop it,” Cecily said. “Tim’s right. We’re wasting time.”
“Hang on,” Frank said. “Five of us tromping down there, we’re going to get in each other’s way. Bryce and I will take the guesthouse. Derek and Tim can check the perimeter around the structure. Spiral out.”
“Right,” Derek said. “Frank’s in charge.”
“What about me?” Cecily asked. “I’ve got more at stake here than any of you.”
“Except Grady,” Bryce muttered under his breath. Cecily’s project had taken center stage in her mind, thanks to him.
“I heard that,” she said. “Of course Grady’s the most important. Which is why we should be collecting evidence.”
“Flashlights,” Frank said. “Weapons, just in case. Anybody carrying?”
Bryce shook his head. “I was out. Saw no need at the time.”
Tim and Frank had long guns in their vehicles, and Derek gave Bryce a Remington.
“What about me?” Cecily said again. She glared in Derek’s direction. “You know I can shoot, big brother. Outshot you, as a matter of fact.”
“One time. I remember,” Derek said. “Hang tight.” He disappeared down the hall, returning a moment later with his Kimber on his hip and a holstered Colt revolver, which he handed to Cecily. She slipped the unit onto her belt.
“Right now, a camera’s better than a weapon,” Frank said. “Mine’s in my truck.”
They climbed into Frank’s pickup and he drove to the guesthouse, slowly enough to catch any obvious signs of an intruder along the way. Cecily’s impatience shot through Bryce like an electric current. They were in the backseat, she in the middle between him and Tim. Bryce gave her hand a surreptitious squeeze.
“Any idea how long Grady’s been gone?” Cecily asked.
“He was in the barn around five, when Sabrina and I left,” Derek said. We got home around quarter to ten, so I got to the guesthouse right around ten, I’d say.”
“That’s a pretty wide window if someone drove off with him,” Frank said.
“Or if he drove off with someone. We still haven’t determined he was taken against his will,” Tim said. “You have a ransom demand?”
“Nothing,” Derek said.
“He wouldn’t leave.” Cecily’s tone was adamant. “He was doing well, adjusting. Right, Bryce?”
“Getting better,” was all Bryce would commit to.
At the cottage, Derek and Tim headed off without speaking. They had their assignments, and it was like being on an op. Everyone knew what to do and trusted each other to do their parts. Frank, Bryce, and Cecily headed for the porch.
“No signs of a forcible entry,” Frank said.
“Grady might have let someone in,” Cecily said. “Expecting Derek, maybe?”
“Or it was someone he knew,” Bryce said.
“Then again, he might not have locked the door, which is normal around here,” Cecily said.
“All are viable hypotheses. Can’t tell from out here.” Bryce followed Frank into the house.
The three of them stood in the entry, surveying the mess. That’s all it seemed to be. A mess. Other than the mug of hot chocolate, nothing was broken. The couch cushions were strewn about, some paperbacks on the floor. The cabinet doors in the kitchen area were open. A plate, cup, and fork lay in the draining rack beside the sink.
“I’m going to go look around,” Cecily said.
“Check the other rooms, but don’t move anything,” Frank said. “I’m going to take pictures.”
With the ca-chink sounds of the camera in the background, Bryce and Cecily went through the rest of the house. In the room Grady had been using, the bed was mussed, but for all Bryce knew, that’s how the kid had left it. Dresser drawers open, but not empty. Bathroom seemed normal enough. Teenagers weren’t known for their neatness.
Cecily checked the closet. “His duffle is still here. There’s a pile of dirty clothes on the floor, clean ones hanging up.”
“If he were running, he’d have taken what belonged to him,” Bryce said.
“So someone abducted him. Can we call the Sheriff’s Department now?”
She’d said Sheriff’s Department, not Andy.
Why was Bryce even thinking about that? The feeling his instincts had been right, that there was something Grady was hiding, and it might be at the root of his disappearance gnawed at him. Should he have pressed? Could he have prevented this?
Frank’s voice interrupted. “Hang on. This might be blood.”
Hearing Frank utter the word blood, Cecily dashed to the living room where he was standing at the sink.
“Blood? Are you sure?” she asked.
“Can’t be positive without a test, but it’s possible. It’s not a lot. Couple of drops is all.” He pointed to some stains on the side of the white porcelain.
Bryce appeared at her side. “Might have cut himself when the mug broke. He could have been rinsing off, didn’t clean the sink. Or it could be ketchup.”
Cecily straightened her spine. “I don’t give a damn what this might do to my program. We have to get the cops in here.”
“A couple possible drops of blood, no serious damage to the house?” Frank shook his head. “Can’t say they’d be here before morning.”
“Grady’s not eighteen yet,” Cecily said. “He’s a minor. A missing child in the eyes of the law. They’d have to come. His life is more important than a setback to the pilot program for Helping Through Horses.”
Bryce rested his hand on her shoulder, squeezed. “You want to call it in? You’ve got the connections. Meanwhile, Derek and Tim are checking the perimeter. We might have more information to share with the deputies.”
“While they’re taking their sweet time getting here, we can continue our in-house investigation,” Frank said.
Cecily bristled. “They do not take their sweet time. Do you know how many people live in the county? How many square miles our little force has to cover? The deputies work their asses off trying to be everywhere at once.”
Frank raised his hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Everyone who calls in thinks their case is the most important one. Like me right now. I understand the workload and the number of deputies, so if we have to wait, we have to wait. I also agree with Frank. Until they get here, we should keep trying to figure out where Grady is.” Cecily marched to the phone on the wall.
This time of night, staffing would be minimal, but as far as Cecily was concerned she had a legitimate emergency. She dialed 911. She recognized Wyland’s voice giving the standard reply and cut him off.
“Wyland, this is Cecily Cooper. I’m at the Triple-D Ranch. We’ve got what might be an abducted minor. Any chance of getting a detective out here?” She knew she was asking him to bypass procedure, which would have sent a patrol deputy first to determine whether it was worth calling in detectives, but it was worth a shot. Wyland followed the rules, but if things were quiet, he might be willing to jump the initial step.
“No detectives in the station right now,” he said. “What does the scene look like?”
All calls were recorded, and Cecily didn’t want to get him in trouble with their supervisor, so she admitted there were no signs of violence. “Do you have anyone on patrol near enough to get the process started?”
There was a brief pause while Wyland checked the locations of the deputies, as well as the kinds of calls they were on. “Friday nights are busy on the road. I’ve got three involved in routine traffic stops now. I’ll roll the first available. Based on location, ETA twenty to thirty minutes.”
“Thanks. If you can send him code two, I’d appreciate it. We’re at the guest house. Tell him to keep driving past the ranch house. He can’t miss it. Oh, and if you hear anything, have someone call my cell.”
She hung up and reported to Frank. He didn’t remark about the timeframe, although she thought she’d detected a subtle eye roll.
Cecily studied the paperbacks lying on the floor. They appeared to have been dumped. She recognized the titles from the inventory. There were three, not the four listed. She scanned the bookshelves, not finding the missing Maltese Falcon. She went into the bedroom, checked the dresser, the bedside table. Not there. Nor was it in the bathroom.
“What are you looking for?” Bryce asked from the doorway.
“One of the books from Grady’s possessions. The inventory sheet listed four, but I can only find three of them.”
“You sure they were in there?”
She frowned. “I didn’t verify the contents, but why would the cops have listed a book—and specified titles—if it wasn’t there? If they’d wanted to take it for themselves, they’d have left it off the sheet. It definitely felt like books in the envelope. Did Grady mention one was missing?”
“No, but he didn’t open the packet when I was around.”
“So, it’s either here somewhere, or he has it with him. If he had those books when he was picked up, they’re probably special to him.”
Bryce tugged his hair. “Not necessarily. They could just be books. He didn’t fuss about them being missing when they released him, did he?”
Cecily’s frown deepened. “No. So, where is it?”
“Who knows? You think it’s important?”
“Guess not. It registered as something out of place.” She thought for a moment. “Wait. Remember when we found him reading to Ginger. Maybe he left the book in the barn.”
“The kid liked to read,” Bryce said. “I can see him leaving a book in the barn. I can’t see how it has anything to do with finding him.”
“But it might be a clue. We should check,” Cecily said.
Frank called them to the living room. Bryce glanced toward the door, then stepped to Cecily’s side. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “We’ll find him.”
They joined Frank, who was standing in the middle of the room. “The more I look at this, the less sense it makes. Someone’s angry, or making threats, they don’t toss the couch cushions onto the floor. They break stuff. They sweep things off shelves, tables. They’d toss plates and glasses, not simply leave cabinet doors open. If it was more than threats, there should be a lot more evidence of violence.”
“What if they were searching for something?” Cecily asked.
Frank wandered to the bookshelf. “Then it must have been something big, or else they put everything back exactly as they found it, other than the three books on the floor, and the cushions.”
The front door opened, and Derek walked in.
“Did you find something?” Cecily’s mind careened like a ball in a pinball machine, envisioning everything from Grady out for an evening stroll to him lying on the ground somewhere, butchered like one of the cattle.
Derek rubbed his chin. “Nothing on my end. The terrain isn’t conducive to leaving obvious evidence, and in the dark, it’s hard to notice anomalies.”
Cecily’s belly tightened. When Derek talked all formal and full of his ten-dollar words, he was worried.
“What Derek is trying to say is Grady left via the road,” Frank said. “Unless Tim found something.”
“Tim didn’t.”
Cecily turned at Tim’s voice. “Frank said there might be some blood in the sink, but if you didn’t see anything outside, that’s a good sign, right?” she asked.
The men exchanged uneasy glances, and Cecily knew just because they hadn’t found blood outside didn’t mean Grady wasn’t hurt. They could have missed it in the dark, or whoever took him was careful not to leave any traces.
“The deputy should be here soon,” she said. “Maybe there’s been an update at the Sheriff’s Department.” Wyland hadn’t called, but if things were busy, he wouldn’t have had time. Or so she told herself, adding a modicum of optimism to the emotions swirling through her.