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Jake frowned at Rachel. “You’re certain?”
“Yes. Rose and her five siblings were all adopted. Tara’s grandmother bore no children of her own. And, of course, we’re dealing with old laws and sealed records. It will take some time to get access to Rose’s birth records.” She eased into a boardroom chair while Jake continued to pace.
“Anything else interesting pop up?”
“Yeah, a few things actually.” Rachel scrolled through pages on the screen, finally stopping and looking up. “Rose was only fifteen when Tara was born. The birth father on record is Jackson Davis. And Tara’s real name is Jacquilyn Davis Montara.”
He stopped to look over her shoulder. “Where’s the father now?”
She flicked a hand to motion him away. “In a small cemetery in London, Ontario. Died at twenty-four.”
“Young.” He lowered onto the chair beside her.
“He was trying to evacuate horses during a barn fire. He got twenty-six of twenty-seven out. The roof collapsed after he’d gone back for the last.”
“There’s her horse connection. Figured she was born with it.” He tapped the table with one finger. “A couple of times I could have sworn she was silently communicating with them.”
Rachel, an experienced horsewoman herself, nodded. “Makes sense. And as for people Tara may go to, Rose was estranged from most of her family and had no contact with them after the birth of her daughter. None of them attended her memorial service. However, here’s an interesting fact. Tara owns an island B&B. It’s where Rose went after Tara was born. The place closed down shortly after Rose and Stan married and moved to Ontario. The title was signed over to Tara, in trust, on her third birthday.” Rachel rubbed the side of her massive stomach and grimaced.
Jake figured the kids must be kicking her. “You need anything?”
“No, I’m good.” She put her hand back on the mouse and moved through what would have been reams of paper. “There’s a long report here about the law firm responsible for the property’s maintenance. Nothing about any contact with Tara or even anything to suggest she even knows about the place.”
“Quinn needs to send someone to check it out because hey, it’s the perfect place for her to hide.”
“Good point. I’ll get on that,” said Quinn as he stepped into the room.
“How do you do that?” Jake demanded. “Arrive at exactly the right second? Do you stand outside the door and listen?”
Rachel laughed. “Timing is his super power.”
“Mom says it’s the universe putting me where I’m supposed to be.”
Jake shook his head. “She’d know.” It was rumored she had a whole handful of extra-sensory type powers.
“Speaking of Julia,” said Quinn. “She sent word about ten minutes ago that Tara’s made contact. Grace and Logan will be picking her up any minute now.”
“What exactly does that mean?” Had she decided not to run? Had something happened to her?
“She had a change of heart,” said Quinn.
“So she’s safe?” A knot near Jake’s heart loosened. “Will they go back to the ranch?”
“I don’t know. Julia had no details.”
Right. Julia was Grace’s aunt, and they didn’t always use conventional means to communicate. A person needed a program to keep the details straight with this family. Telepathy, healing powers, and other off-the-charts skills, were the norm in Meyers. And, of course, their connections with ETC added another layer.
To Jake’s knowledge, he had nothing extra of his own, but Grace had suggested otherwise. Maybe he’d explore that idea one day. Then again, maybe not. He was born a Meyers, a rescuer, and what he’d seen pass through the generations was a tendency to never back down from a challenge.
Sadly, post-traumatic stress had taken several of his uncles down, but Quinn and Rachel were raging a war against PTS now, and it looked like they were making headway.
“Quinn.” Rachel’s tone was sharp. She pointed at the phone, and it rang.
Quinn pushed the speaker button. “What’s wrong?”
“She said she’d wait in the car.”
Jake didn’t like the gravity in Grace’s voice.
“We got here, the car’s empty. Windows are down, keys are in the ignition, her bag’s on the seat. Less than a ten-minute lead. We’re searching now.”
“Copy that. What can we do from here?”
“Send energy and keep all the channels open. She reached out to me telepathically. Gave me no feeling she might change her mind. We’ll keep you posted.”
“Thanks.”
Quinn clicked off and looked around the room. “Anything?”
Rachel shook her head.
Jake frowned. “I had a weird image of a church pop into my head. An old white church and an old wooden barrel.”
Quinn hit the phone buttons again. “Grace,” he said, when she answered. “Jake’s picking up an old white church and a wooden barrel.”
#
Grace and Logan raced across the street and circled the church. They tried the doors but they were locked. They spotted an opening in the back fence, ran through it and found themselves on a street with a smattering of houses.
Grace put her hand on Logan’s arm. “Hang on.” She closed her eyes and waited for the guidance of instinct or the universe’s energy, and felt an instant pull to the right. She opened her eyes and pointed. “There. Something there.”
They jogged toward the house, headed around the side, and there she was. Sitting in the dirt, propped against an old wooden barrel, with Charlie at her side yowling.
“Ouch.” Grace said when she spotted the big red welt on Tara’s forehead.
“What happened?” asked Logan.
Tara glanced at Grace and Logan. “Charlie jumped out of the car and ran right across the road. I thought my heart would stop. I went after him, but he didn`t slow down. Motoring like he was on a mission. When I dove for him I walloped my head. The lights went out for a second or two.”
“I’ll call off the troops,” said Logan as he strolled away, phone in hand.
Tara covered her face with her hands. “What a boneheaded move.”
Grace stood up, grinning. “You may need to start wearing a helmet. Your poor head can’t take much more.” She offered Tara a hand up.
“Thanks, I—”
Charlie was trying to climb up the barrel.
Tara picked him up but he jumped out of her arms, and once again tried climbing the wooden slats. His yowling increased. “What are you after?” She leaned over and looked inside.
“What is it?” asked Grace.
“Holy shit.” Tara suddenly dove head first into the barrel, balancing her stomach on the rim for just a second before coming back up, with a tiny, wet, and bedraggled kitten. Charlie was dancing on his tiptoes, trying to reach the poor thing, so Tara knelt beside him. “Good call, pal. She definitely needs our help.”
Grace didn’t like the look of the tiny calico. She was too small to be away from her mother, and she looked limp.
“She’s cold and it’s warm out,” said Tara. She plucked at the creature’s hide and its skin stayed peaked when she let go. “Dehydrated too.” She tucked her precious cargo under her shirt and bent to pick up Charlie and carried him so the kitten was sandwiched between them. “She needs help, big time.”
They all trouped back to the SUV where Tara sat in the back seat with Charlie hanging over her arm to supervise while she poured tiny bits of water into the kitten’s mouth. At first, the little thing had trouble swallowing, but it seemed to get easier after a while.
Logan went into the store and came back with six cans of kitten food, a set of picnic bowls, and the phone number of the closest vet—who was a two-hour drive away.
Grace mixed the food and water together until it was like soup. “You want to see if she can eat on her own?”
“Sure, but I’ll likely have to spoon it into her,” said Tara.
She was wrong. The tiny kitten, which was barely able to hold up her own head, put her face in the dish, and in a combination of sucking and lapping, managed to empty it. Before anyone could wipe the mess from her face, Charlie handled it, purring and chirping the whole time.
“I think he’s in love,” said Grace.
When the little one nodded off to sleep, Charlie draped himself across Tara’s lap, leaning against where the kitten was under her shirt.
“We could use him on our team,” said Logan. “Impressive, don’t you think, that he heard or sensed her from where you were parked? Cars passing, two buildings, and a city lot away.
“His life was saved once, against all odds, so maybe something gets wired in for payback.”
Logan went to the back and started digging around.
“What are you looking for?” asked Grace.
“These.” He came back grinning and holding out two items. “Hand-warmers from the emergency kit.” He gave the plastic packages a twist and passed them to Tara along with a blanket. “Should help to warm her up. Are we good to go now? Our route back will take us in the direction of the vet.”
“What about my rental car?”
Logan glanced up and down the street. “There’s a police station up there where the flag is. I’ll leave the keys with them and send someone to pick it up.”
The kitten survived the trip to the vet, waking up and eating more gruel about every half hour. The man couldn`t get a reading on his thermometer, which was frightening, but he gave her subcutaneous fluids and provided them with what they’d need do the same.
If nothing else, Tara now had a purpose.