The Crown Ranch 3: Missing Evidence

The aroma of bacon pulled Skeeter’s weary body from her bed. After her encounter with Garrett in the exercise room, she was sure she hadn’t slept a wink, yet she must have, because sunlight now shone through a crack in the blinds. Last she remembered, it’d been pitch black outside.

She slipped out of her pajamas and into a pair of boot-cut jeans and a button-down, rose-colored shirt. The forecast weather almost called for shorts, but she knew it was best to wear long pants for the Crown family horseback ride today, something they did most Saturdays when the weather permitted. Coach insisted she was part of the family, so she had no choice but to go along. Truth be told, she enjoyed this activity because it reminded her of how close her family had been before her brother died and her parents moved into the nursing home. Brogan would have loved these rides with his buddies.

In stocking feet, she padded down the staircase and hung a right for the kitchen, following the loud family banter. Meredith was pulling plates from the cupboard and setting them on the granite countertop next to the stove, where Garrett fried bacon and Frannie stood on a chair, flipping pancakes on the large griddle in the middle of the four-burner stove.

“No, like this,” Garrett said to the little girl as he took the spatula from her, slid it under a pancake, and flipped it into the air, letting it fall back onto the griddle.

Frannie giggled.

“Garrett,” Meredith exclaimed as she pointed her squinty-eyed gaze at the tall, lean man wearing a yellow apron with ruffles. “I don’t need to be scraping those off the ceiling or floor.”

Garrett pulled a frown. “No worries, we’ve got this. Right, Frannie?” he said as he flashed a wink at his niece.

Meredith rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Fine, but you’re cleaning up your own messes.”

“Morning, Skeeter,” Robert said.

Garrett’s head snapped in her direction the second his dad muttered her name.

The knowing look on his face had her wanting to bolt. But her parents hadn’t raised any sissies, so she’d just have to figure out how to face him after having had a bit of a breakdown in front of him.

“Morning, everyone. Breakfast smells good, Frannie.”

The kid smiled.

Garrett held his spatula for her to see. “What about me? I’m cooking, too.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Let me get you a gold star. Would that make you feel better?” The sarcasm in her tone stabbed at her own ears. A tinge of guilt sifted through her. She supposed she hadn’t needed to be so sharp with him.

He pursed his lips and nodded, then said, “Yeah, that should work.”

He spun around and flipped some pancakes.

She poured herself a cup of coffee. Keeping hold of the large carafe, she walked over to the kitchen island where everyone else sat and topped off the coffee cups in need.

Peyton groaned as she rose from her seat. The baby was due soon, and it was easy to see the pregnancy was taking a toll on the woman, but she was always in good spirits.

She placed her hand on her lower back and ambled toward the refrigerator, where she retrieved a container of orange juice, then filled glasses and doled them out. Her movements were slow and steady.

Garrett turned at his waist and looked at his sister. “You know what would be fabulous for dinner?”

Peyton looked at him. “We haven’t even eaten breakfast yet, and you’re worried about dinner?”

His lips pulled into a full smile. “I guess. It’s just that your lasagna was so tasty last night, it got me thinking about that chicken marsala you make.”

Peyton hesitated.

“Aw, come on. Please? Pretty please with sugar on top? It’s just that it’s so fabulous, and nobody makes it as good as you do.”

The man’s scheming tone and smile resembled that of Colonel James Kolter and catapulted Skeeter right back in time to when he’d harassed her and then convinced his buddies to silence her. The horror of it was as fresh in her mind as if it had happened yesterday, rather than six months ago. A chill raked through her. Her hand shook, causing her ceramic coffee cup to clink hard against the granite countertop of the island. She tightened her grip. Any harder, and it would probably crack the handle.

Couldn’t Garrett see how exhausted Peyton looked? Men. Freaking manipulating and conniving assholes who would do anything to get what they wanted.

“For heaven’s sake, leave her alone. She doesn’t want to,” Skeeter spouted.

The room went silent, the walls closed in, and the air thickened. She gasped audibly.

“Skeeter,” Coach said softly as he rose from his seat.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze from the countertop to meet his.

“I’m fine,” she replied through her tight jaw.

He nodded. A calming aura emitted from his gaze.

Once she’d gotten to know Coach, it had been no secret how he’d gotten his nickname.

She worked to control her quick breaths and overactive heartbeat.

“You know what? Instead, I’ll order pizza for us tonight. How does that sound? Frannie, you want pizza?” Garrett asked.

“Pizza!” the little girl exclaimed.

Skeeter’s entire body tensed. Now he was trying to smooth everything over once he’d pushed it too far, just like an abuser would. She squeezed her eyes shut. Stop it, Skeeter. He’s not Kolter. Not every man is like him—like that.

She drew in a cleansing breath, let it out, and opened her eyes. Embarrassed by her behavior, she considered bolting from the room, but fought the urge. Avoidance wouldn’t solve anything.

From the stove, Garrett plated pancakes, then passed them to his hungry customers. When he had the last two plates in his hands, he stepped over and set one in front of her. His dark, coffee-bean-colored irises studied her. The compassion in his gaze made her uncomfortable and feel guilty for not only snapping at him, but for her unflattering thoughts about him. For heaven’s sake, the guy had only asked his sister to make one of her famous dinner dishes.

Would she ever once again become the person she had been before? The person who’d lived life confidently, freely, and, for the most part, happily? She needed to shake this bullshit and get back on track. So the Army wasn’t her life anymore, but there were plenty of other things for her to do. She glanced at Coach, then Storm. They’d each found a life after the service. Her gaze drifted to Garrett. She didn’t know his story, but she’d overheard enough to know there was a reason he’d returned home from the big city.

Banter and laughter echoing in the room yanked her out of her dismal thoughts. The Crown family was the real deal. Love practically burst the seams of this room. Her family had been this way at one time; still would be if her brother hadn’t died.

Meredith rose and started collecting dirty dishes. Skeeter stood to help. The men and the girls bailed on the work, but that was okay because they headed out to the barn to get the horses ready for the ride.

“Are you coming today?” Meredith asked Peyton.

The woman rubbed her large belly. “No. I know that’ll disappoint Dad, but I think I’m done riding until after our little sweet pea here arrives.”

“Yeah, probably best.”

“Plus, I’m going to run to the grocery store while you guys are gone and get the stuff for chicken marsala,” Peyton said as a smile stretched across her face.

Skeeter caught the woman’s gaze and bit her tongue, rather than make the comment fresh in her mind about allowing her brother to manipulate her into making what he wanted for dinner.

“It’s not a big deal. It will make him happy, and I’m so glad to have him home,” Peyton said, answering the question she hadn’t asked.

The love the woman showed for her family was undeniable, and of all things, Skeeter certainly understood how much one could love a brother. Her broken, grief-filled heart was proof of that.

A knock on the front door drew her attention. “I’ll get it,” Skeeter said.

She spun and exited the kitchen. Through the side glass windows by the door, she could see the Anytime Delivery truck parked near the front steps. In Robert Crown’s line of work as a developer, it wasn’t surprising to have packages delivered regularly, even on the weekends, so Skeeter didn’t think anything of it as she opened the door.

“Good morning,” the familiar woman said. She’d delivered to the ranch plenty of times.

“Morning,” Skeeter replied as she reached for the small box the woman held out.

“This one has to be signed for,” the woman said.

“Oh.” That was strange, since that wasn’t usually the case. In fact, when no one was home, the delivery person usually just left the packages on the porch.

“Just a second,” Skeeter said as she turned at the waist to face the direction of the kitchen. “Peyton, can you sign for a package?”

“Anyone can sign,” the delivery woman said.

What the lady didn’t know was that Skeeter really couldn’t. She was in hiding, and the last thing she needed was for Colonel James Kolter or one of his asshole buddies to find her.

Peyton appeared and took the handheld device from the delivery woman and signed the screen.

“Thank you.”

“Have a good day,” Peyton said as she closed the door.

Peyton looked down at the tiny box in her hand. “Oh no.” The distress in the woman’s tone was unmistakable.

“What?” Skeeter asked.

Peyton met her gaze. “It’s for you.”

Skeeter’s heart hammered. It couldn’t be for her. She was in hiding. Even though her parents knew where she was, she’d had little contact with them by design, and when she did, it was covert as to not let on to Kolter and his cohorts where she was. As much as it pained her and left her feeling like she’d deserted them at the nursing facility, she thought it was best for them. For how long she’d have to keep this up, she didn’t know. Kolter was a powerful man, and though he’d gotten off scot-free, he was angry that she’d embarrassed him.

“Maybe Storm or Coach should look at this first,” Peyton said as she hesitantly handed the package to her, “just to be sure it’s, I don’t know, safe.”

She held the box gingerly as she followed Peyton back into the kitchen. The woman snatched her cellphone off the countertop and tapped her finger on the screen.

When Storm answered, she told him about the package.

It took less than a minute for Storm, Coach, and Garrett to be standing with Skeeter around the kitchen island, all staring at the mystery box.

Coach dismissed his wife and sister from the room, and Skeeter’s heartbeat ratcheted up a notch at his concern for his family and how he wanted to get them out of the way of potential harm. But he didn’t cut Garrett loose. Why? He was just a computer geek. A tall, lean, physically fit one, but still, how was this box his business? The last thing she wanted was for more people to know the details of her life, especially the ones related to her incident with Kolter.

Coach squinted and leaned closer to the box and studied it as she had before he’d come into the room.

Whatever was inside wasn’t ticking. It wasn’t heavy. It didn’t appear to be coated with anything, such as white powder, that could be construed as harmful. No coal, acid, or gunpowder-like odors. Just a package wrapped in brown paper with her name and the Crown Ranch address.

Coach slipped on a pair of latex gloves, pulled the package closer to him, and slid the blade of his knife under the tape. He shot her a glance before he opened the box. Expressionless, he stared into the box.

Garrett leaned over to inspect it. His brows knit, and he darted his gaze between her and the mystery parcel. “Hmm, I take it that’s hers.” His tone was soft and laced with empathy.

Her pulse pounded harder. What? Is what mine?

Coach nodded. His large hand barely fit into the tiny package that had caused her so much anxiety. He pulled out a plastic baggie with a lock of flaming-red, curly hair in it. Her hair. Her heart beat wildly. Beads of sweat formed at her temples and under her arms and ran down her sides. Absently, she reached for the ponytail she’d made this morning and found relief when her hair filled her hand. It was almost as long now as when her assailants had chopped it off six months ago.

Oddly, her gaze landed on Garrett. His dark irises filled with pity. The last thing she needed was for another man to look at her that way. It made her feel weak and vulnerable. It had been bad enough when she’d first come to the ranch, and the entire Crown family had looked at her that way. Now she had to start over with Garrett.

She tore her gaze from him and looked at the bag of hair in Coach’s grip.

“We’ll find out who sent this,” he assured.

Skeeter drew in a breath and let it out. “We all know who did it, but we won’t be able to prove it. He’s too good at covering his tracks. Why the hell can’t he just leave me alone? There’s no reason for him to harass…threaten me. I’m out of the service and live states away from him. He won.”

“I don’t know. Guys like him are…I don’t know… You outed him, and though he appears to have gotten away with it, people around him still know of the scandal. I’m sure he knows that some people, albeit the wrong ones, believed you and know what kind of man he is. His ego has been hurt, so he needs to prove to you that he’s in charge,” Storm said.

“This is bullshit! I don’t know all that went on,” Garrett spouted as he pointed to the bag of hair, “but this guy needs to be held accountable. Taught a lesson. What kind of man does this?”

“A dangerous one,” Coach warned.

Garrett’s gaze landed on her. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t. It was as if he wouldn’t release her. Like the other two men in the kitchen, there was now a third willing to fight her battle, and though a part of her hated that she had to rely on men to help her, she knew it was best in this case. Playing the damsel in distress was not her style, but the limp she still had as a result of her beating, along with the emotional scars from both the beating and the harassment she’d suffered, were reminders she couldn’t deal with this on her own as much as she’d like to. But Garrett Crown… What did he have to offer? Not to mention that another person had now been dragged into her problems. Drama was not her thing, but here she stood in the thick of it—and it made her feel inferior and helpless.

“Well, he still needs to be stopped. Whoever he is,” Garrett replied firmly.

“We are well aware of that,” Storm responded.

Garrett turned and took two steps toward the exit before Coach caught his arm. “Where are you going?”

“To find out who sent this package,” Garrett replied.

Coach arched a brow. “Yes, we need to do that, but you can’t go running rogue on us. We need to have a plan and stick to it. We need to know what each other is doing or going to do at all times so we don’t defeat each other’s efforts or tip hands. Do you understand?”

Shit, Coach was actually going to let Garrett help. Her heart slammed against her rib cage. That would mean he’d surely be briefed on all the dirty details. Bile rose in her throat. Pure anguish and defeat saturated every cell of her being. Her life had been going well, all according to plan until six months ago. Then bam, it had all fallen apart at the hands of one asshole.

Garrett faced his brother more directly, and Coach released him.

“Then brief me on the plan and let me know where I can help.”

Storm and Coach nodded in unison.

Skeeter stared at the floor. This problem was going to follow her everywhere. It was bad enough that everyone at the Crown Ranch and the Fort Strom-Harding Army Airfield in Georgia, her last duty station, knew, but slowly the list was growing. She might as well just blast her life story out on social media for all to know.

“Your computer skills are exactly what we need right now,” Storm said to Garrett.

“We need to report this to the local police since he’s chosen to harass you off a military base. They’ll probably take the package, but truth be told, they won’t mark this as a top priority. That said, before we call them, we’ll need to do our work quickly, while we still have the package,” Coach said.

“You know he’s just going to cover this up. Buy off the cops or threaten them with his highfalutin buddies, like he did with the military police. The local authorities will be of no help,” Skeeter said.

“Unfortunately, that is possible,” Coach said. “However, we need to lay the groundwork in case this continues.”

That was Coach. Logical.

She looked at Storm. He, on the other hand, would be her best ally—and the most likely to be willing to just drive to Georgia, find Kolter, and beat the shit out of him the way he and his cronies had done to her.

As if Storm could read her thoughts, he shook his head, squashing her idea.

Her attackers had had the upper hand against her last time. This time, she would be prepared with two steadfast and capable allies. Not the same as when several men had ambushed her. Those men might be physically strong, but they were weak and pathetic in terms of mental capacity, as far as she was concerned.

Coach snagged the box and bag of hair off the countertop and motioned for her to follow him. She fell into step behind him. Storm and Garrett followed them into the office.

“I’ll be right back,” Garrett said as he shot her an intense glance.

What was he up to?

She watched as Coach photographed the package from several angles. Then he picked up the phone and called the sheriff’s department and explained in a few words what had happened and why receiving this package was a problem.

Garrett returned a few moments later with an open laptop. He set it on his dad’s desk, sat down, and started pecking at the keyboard. The computer looked old, thick, and much larger than the sleek models of today. It actually had hinges and looked like it would snap closed with fasteners like those on an old suitcase. Odd. Curiosity had her searching for a brand name, but there was none to be found. She knew from what the others had said that Garrett was a computer whiz and designed software. Did he build computers as well?

“What are you doing?” Coach asked,

“I’m just seeing if I can reverse-track this package.”

Coach arched a brow.

Garrett’s irises darkened. “Don’t ask. Just give me a few minutes.”

A knock on the front door jolted Skeeter’s pulse into race mode.

“Probably the sheriff’s deputy,” Coach said as he gathered up the box and bag of hair. “It’ll be fine,” he assured her with that soothing tone he used with her sometimes.

She followed him to the front door. Storm and Garrett stayed in the office.

Coach opened the door and invited the tall, slim deputy in. He looked young—probably a fresh academy graduate. She supposed the man’s young age, and likely naïveté, wouldn’t really matter, because there probably would be nothing anyone could do for her anyhow. They’d never get confirmation on who’d sent the package, and even if they did, she knew deep down that Kolter would still walk away scot-free.

After she explained to the deputy what had happened and why it was a problem, he asked to speak to Peyton, since she’d signed for the package.

Coach called her from his cell, and within a few minutes, she stood in the entryway with the three of them. She repeated her story twice to Deputy Nest. He took notes and, as expected, took the package from Coach and mumbled something about dusting it for prints. The kid might have believed his own words, but Skeeter didn’t believe it would actually happen once he returned to the department. This was a box of hair linked to a he-said-she-said case, not something as horrific as a murder case. It was low priority, and the accused was a prominent military figure. She knew nothing further would happen with this investigation.

Skeeter couldn’t stop her audible sigh.

Peyton’s dark brown gaze grabbed hold of her. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

Skeeter drew in a deep breath and let it out. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. She’d walked away from this whole mess, so why couldn’t the asshole just leave it be?

“Yeah.”

“I know Dad will be disappointed, but can you tell him to just take Meredith and the girls on the family ride today? We need to stay back and do some investigative work,” Coach said.

“Okay.”

“No!” Skeeter exclaimed. “I’m done letting him impact my life—your lives. This can wait. We’ll take the ride first. It’s important to your family.”

Coach’s lips parted, and Skeeter threw up her hand. “Ride first,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Okay, then,” he replied with a hint of a smile. Did he like that she was getting her spark back?

That asshole had pushed her about as far as she could be pushed. She was done. Life needed to go on. Still, the eerie sensation that snaked around her spine when she’d seen her lock of hair in the bag wouldn’t let go. In fact, with each passing thought about it, the sensation wound tighter.

This was enough. She’d had enough. No more.