The Crown Ranch 3: Missing Evidence

Garrett’s mouth watered as he waited impatiently for his sister to dish some of her famous lasagna onto his plate. She scooped a tiny piece, set it on a plate, and then stretched her arm in his direction as if it were his.

A slight smirk rose on her face. “Will that be enough?”

For Chrissake, the six-year-old seated next to him had a bigger piece on her plate, and there was plenty in that pan for everyone to gorge themselves. So, no. It wasn’t enough.

He reached over and grabbed hold of Frannie’s chair and slid it closer to him. “I’ll just take some of Frannie’s. She can’t eat all that,” he said as he made a move for the child’s plate.

The kid was quick to grab her plate. “Uh-uh, Uncle Garrett.”

Chuckles echoed throughout the dining room.

“We don’t need any brawling at the table,” Peyton said as she placed another piece on his plate and handed it to him.

It smelled awesome, and he could hardly wait to dig in. He forked up a mouthful of heaven and swung his gaze around the room, pausing briefly at each member of his family. Meals like this were among the things he’d missed most while living away from here. Not just the wonderful food, but, more important, the family gathering. As a young man after he’d graduated from college, he couldn’t wait to get out into the world on his own. But in just the few hours he’d been home now, he’d realized how much he’d missed his family and the Crown Ranch.

Frannie sat to his left and then Iris. His brother Coach was at the head of the table opposite his father at the other end. Rounding the corner from his brother sat his new wife, Meredith. An instant family for Coach, but it looked and felt right. Garrett’s sister sat next to Meredith, then Storm on the opposite side of her. The only family missing from this table was his brother Blaine, Blaine’s wife, Ashley, and their daughter, Emily, who all lived in Houston. The large table they sat at was plenty big enough for them all to gather, as they did over the holidays and for the Kentucky Derby when they were all home. There was even enough room for the feisty redhead seated across the table from him.

Garrett drew in a long breath and relished the scent of home. Then his gaze landed on Skeeter. The nickname suited the tiny-framed woman. The second she noticed him looking at her, she averted her eyes.

Skeeter, hmm. What was her real name? What was her story? How had she come to live here on the ranch?

His gaze floated to Storm, then Meredith, then his nieces. In just a short time, this table had filled. When he’d been a child, family and immeasurable love had surrounded this table. Then emptiness and sorrow had intruded for a period after his mother had died, but through the years, love and fullness had found their way back.

During his last couple of visits, he’d realized how much he needed this—to be closer to his family. He placed his hand over his aching heart. He needed his family more than ever now. He tamped down the lump that rose in his throat. When his friend Kari died, it was like he’d lost a piece of himself, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to get it back.

“Garrett?” Dad’s voice snapped him out of his horrible reverie.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay? Looks like we lost you there for a minute.”

All gazes were on him. What had he done or missed?

“I’m fine. Just tired from the drive and unloading the trailer.”

Dad nodded.

Stupidly, Garrett looked at his sister. Her gaze bore into him, and he knew immediately she had read his every thought about Kari, but she didn’t say anything.

When they finished the main course, Peyton ducked into the kitchen and returned with what remained of his welcome-home cake that they’d practically devoured earlier. Now would surely be the end of it.

Once they finished dessert, Garrett, Coach, Storm, and Dad moseyed into the large home office, where Dad poured them each a finger of bourbon. Garrett took hold of his glass and swirled the amber liquid around, then lifted the glass to his nose. A caramel, smoky scent warmed his nostrils. Sure, he drank bourbon in the city, but it wasn’t the same as drinking it here with his family.

Following his father’s lead, he sat in one of the leather chairs facing the large windows overlooking the sea of green pastures. He couldn’t wait to hop on Pegasus and take a ride tomorrow and soak in the fresh spring air. No vehicle exhaust fumes. No horns blowing. No sirens blaring. Just fresh air and peace.

“It’s good to have you home,” Dad said. Sincerity filled his tone.

He looked at his father. “It’s good to be back.”

Dad nodded.

Garrett lifted his glass to his lips, took a sip of the amber liquid, and held it in his mouth for a moment, enjoying the smoothness of it before he swallowed it down.

“So, you’re all settled in?” Dad asked.

“Yeah, except for my desk and computer,” Garrett said as he swung his gaze to the doorway. “I appreciate you cleaning out the storage room. It will be a perfect office.”

“I can’t believe the stuff that we’d accumulated in there through the years. We donated some of it, some is stored in the basement, and a lot of it was tossed in the garbage.”

“You didn’t find my old train set, did you?” Garrett asked.

Dad chuckled. “I did. You’d be surprised at all the stuff we found: your sister’s Barbie dolls, Blaine’s wooden horse, Coach’s action-figure collection—all sorts of long-lost treasures.”

“So, where’s the train?”

“In the basement, on a shelf with all your other stuff.”

Garrett nodded. He hadn’t seen that thing for close to twenty years, but the thought of not having it was too much to bear.

The four of them spent a couple of hours bantering before Meredith and Peyton stepped into the office.

His very pregnant sister looked exhausted. She leaned toward Storm and gave him a peck on the lips. “I’m going up to bed.”

“I’ll be up in just a bit,” he replied.

Meredith informed Coach that she was going home. He inquired about the girls. “They’ve been over there for an hour already.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll be there shortly.”

“Night, all,” she said.

She and Peyton exited the room.

Garrett smiled. In just a short period of time, the family had grown, and a new member was on the way. The way Coach and Storm looked at their spouses gave him a tinge of longing for that. Yeah, he’d had some girlfriends through the years, but none he’d ever considered spending his life with. A vision of the spunky redhead came into view. Where was she? Had she spent the past couple of hours talking with Peyton and Meredith? What was she really doing here? Coach had said he’d explain at some point. Curiosity had grabbed hold of him.

Dad rose. “I’m turning in.”

Garrett downed the last of the smooth bourbon in his glass and followed suit, along with Coach and Storm. It was Friday night at ten o’clock, and he headed for bed. Not that long ago, this would be the time he would head out for the night. But a day’s worth of driving and unloading his trailer had proved tiring.

He climbed the wide staircase behind his dad and Storm. Stepping past Coach’s old room, he noticed a light shining through the gap between the door and hardwood floor.

“Dad?”

Dad halted and turned to face him.

Garrett thumbed toward the Coach’s door.

“Skeeter’s in that room,” Dad replied without him having to ask the question.

Garrett nodded. Hmm, so she stays in the house rather than in the quarters for the ranch hands. Interesting.

Storm peeled off to his and Peyton’s room, and Garrett went to his on the opposite side of the hall. Dad’s large room was at the end of the hall. All the bedrooms were big in this large house, but the one at the end of the hall was exceptionally large.

A few steps inside his room, Garrett stood still, soaking in the comfort of home as he recalled childhood memories. Thinking back, he wondered what had ever made him leave this place and then stay away for so long.

His gaze landed on the mound of boxes he’d yet to unpack. All the major stuff was in order. His bed was assembled and made, his dresser filled. His large recliner was positioned in front of his massive television, which was placed at an angle good for viewing from either the recliner or the bed.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in the warm, comforting scent of home. The maneuver unleashed a rush of more pleasurable childhood memories. This was where he belonged.

It crossed his mind to flip on the television, but the weariness saturating every cell of his being had him longing for sleep. Perhaps here he’d once again find a good night’s rest—something that hadn’t happened since Kari had been murdered.

It had been a couple of months since that dreadful day, but the rawness of it was still fresh in his mind. He pulled the remote from the television stand and turned on the channel that showed classic TV, knowing that he’d never fall asleep without some sort of distraction from thinking about Kari.

Garrett climbed between the sheets, propped his pillows up, flipped off the light, and fixed his gaze on the television screen. A rerun of The Three Stooges. Perfect. He remembered watching these yahoos with his dad, and they’d laughed their asses off.

Kari’s scream for help jolted him from his sleep, as it did most nights. His eyes popped open. His sheets were sticky, dampened with sweat.

His friend had told him repeatedly that her ex was stalking her. She’d even gone to the police, but without proof, they’d had no reason to help her, or so they’d said, and in a big city, it wasn’t like they had the resources to plant a squad outside her apartment door.

Garrett had wholeheartedly believed her, but her ex was good at covering his tracks.

He and a couple of their buddies had begun a rotation of staying overnight at Kari’s to keep an eye on her, hoping to discourage her ex’s threatening behavior. But wouldn’t you know, the one night he’d gotten to her house later than normal, he’d arrived too late.

It was his fault she was dead.

The recollection of her wide-eyed, lifeless stare, battered face, and twisted neck caused his heart to nearly crack in half. The pain was as if someone sliced through his heart with a knife.

After he’d recovered from the initial shock of finding her dead, rage had shadowed over his grief and pain. He’d called the police, but he knew in his heart that they’d never hold her ex, Zander, accountable for her murder. Arrogant, savvy assholes like him always got away with shit.

Garrett threw the wet covers aside, flung his feet over the side of the bed, and flipped on the lamp. His pulse raced, his temples pounded, and his vision reddened everything he looked at. A deep blood-red. The coppery scent unleashed full force by his memory put him right back in Kari’s apartment on that horrible day.

He stood to pace off his rage, frustration, and hurt. There wasn’t enough area in this room to ward off those emotions. He yanked open a dresser drawer and pulled out athletic shorts and socks. After slipping his feet into his running shoes, he tiptoed out of his room and down the steps, hoping not to wake anyone at this wee morning hour. Two o’clock was his usual unwanted waking time since his friend’s murder.

Remembering the creaky fourth step—the very step that had let his parents know he’d come home after curfew more times than it should have—he gripped the large handrail for balance as he skipped it.

In the darkness, he navigated the long hall to the workout room. Between Coach and Storm, they’d outfitted this room with all the best equipment. But right now, all he needed was the good old treadmill to run off some steam, anger, and guilt, just to name a few of the emotions burning deep in his soul.

He flipped on the light and hopped on the machine. Thirty minutes should do it, he hoped.

The only noise filling his eardrums was the beat of his heart and his feet hitting the track. Exactly the way he wanted it. A nice, rhythmic tempo.

Skeeter wedged herself farther into the narrow gap between the towel stand and the hamper. When she’d heard someone coming down the hall, she’d known she couldn’t bail out of the room, so she’d turned off the lights and found a hiding place.

She had hoped for a quiet workout session. The last thing she needed right now was company. Funny how this particular room got invaded regularly by Coach, Storm, or herself during the early morning hours. Most times, when they all ended up in this room together while everyone else slept, it went without saying that they’d stay quiet and simply coexist as they worked out their issues by working out.

But the feet hitting the hardwood floor a moment ago in the hall hadn’t belonged to Coach nor Storm, so she’d panicked. In had walked Garrett Crown.

The distress lines on his face were easy to see. What ailed him, causing him to enter this room at two in the morning? How long would he be in here? She’d just started her workout on the stair climber when he’d padded down the hall. She flashed her gaze to the doorway, then back to the long-legged, lean man running to beat hell on the treadmill. How in the heck would she get out of this room without him seeing her?

Making herself smaller, she wrapped her arms tighter around her bent legs and pulled them closer to her chest. The hardwood floor was already playing havoc with her tailbone. This was not good.

She watched Garrett. He looked a lot like Coach, and though he was muscular, he wasn’t as bulky as his brother. Their hair color matched, but Garrett wore his longer. It wasn’t too long, though, just long enough that it curled at the ends. His eyes were dark like Coach’s, too. They both resembled their father, that was for sure.

Her right leg went numb, but she didn’t dare stretch it out, or he’d surely see her. Damn leg. One of the lingering reminders of—she swallowed hard—of the beating she’d taken. The thought of the incident caused needles to pick at every area of her flesh that had been battered and bruised. Most of her body. Adrenaline rushed through her veins. Sweat moistened her skin. Her breaths came faster and harder. The more she tried to control her breathing, the thicker the air became. Her heart raced, and her vision blurred.

“Are you …” The voice sifted through her eardrums and trailed off.

“Skeeter?”

Someone said her name, but the voice was unfamiliar. She tried to open her eyes, but her heavy lids made it seem impossible.

A warm hand tightened on her shoulder and shook her gently.

“I’ll be right back. I need to get my phone to call an ambulance.”

The word ambulance snapped her to attention, and her eyelids popped open.

“No.”

“You can hear me?”

She blinked several times to clear her vision. Garrett stared at her. His dark, coffee-bean-colored irises filled with alarm.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“What happened? Are you okay? I didn’t even see you come in,” he said as he leaned closer. “Can you sit up?”

“Huh?” Everything was so fuzzy.

“Let’s get you up,” he said as his large hands took hold of her biceps.

Fear cracked through her like a whip. She pulled her arms free and shot to her feet, but teetered. Her hands flailed as she reached out for the towel rack to stabilize herself. She missed. She was about to faceplant when bulky arms wrapped around her, pulling her tightly to a hard, muscled torso. Exactly what she tried to avoid. She slapped and pushed at Garrett’s body. The man sprang back and held his hands submissively in the air.

“I’m sorry. I was just trying to help you.”

With her right hand, she gripped the handrail of the stair climber and steadied herself. Her gaze glued to Garrett’s.

The poor guy looked horrified. She could hardly blame him, considering the way she’d just reacted to his touch. Her cheeks heated. She was so embarrassed by her behavior that she wanted to run and hide in a hole. Never see this guy again. But that would be difficult since they now lived under the same roof.

His reaction let her know that neither Coach nor Storm, as promised, had shared her secret with him, or anyone else she hadn’t authorized.

Slowly, Garrett lowered his hands and took a step back.

He probably thought she was crazy and wanted to get away from her.

“Do you need anything? Can I get you anything? Before I leave.” His voice was not much more than a whisper.

She shook her head.

He spun and moved toward the door. He was just about there when he paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

His sincere kindness deserved a verbal reaction, assurance from her. “Yes. Thank you.”

He nodded and exited the room.

She hated her new self. Hated it with a passion. Colonel James Kolter and his ring of cronies were to blame for this. Here she was in hiding and fighting to regain her life, and they roamed free without a care in the world. She missed the days when she’d walked with confidence and without fear. Now, it seemed to take every bit of strength she had to get out of bed in the morning and face the day.