Burdened by family secrets, this cowboy rides alone

For twenty-five years, the case of the McGraw twins kidnapping has remained unsolved. As the eldest son, Cull oversees the McGraw horse ranch, wary of prying eyes. So when true-crime writer Nikki St. James comes forward with new information, Cull can’t believe his father invites her onto the compound. His family has suffered enough—he’s not about to let St. James snoop and ruin them completely. But Nikki finds the eldest McGraw’s protectiveness as endearing as it is aggravating. After all, this case is personal to her, too… And her secrets can set the truth free—if they don’t destroy the McGraws first.

Whitehorse, Montana: The McGraw Kidnapping

“What kind of man are you?”

He shifted those blue eyes to her, welding her to the spot. “The kind who knows a lost cause when he sees one.”

“We’ve already had this argument. I’m not leaving, and I’m guessing your father isn’t giving up. He still wants me to do the book.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “And unless I’m wrong, which I don’t believe I am, he asked you to help me.”

He chuckled as he shook his head again. “All you’re doing is making things worse for everyone, including yourself.”

“Don’t you want to know the kind of woman I am?” When he said nothing, she continued, “I’m like your father. When I start something I finish it.”

Cull seemed to consider that before he turned toward her, his lips quirking into a grin as his eyes blazed with challenge. “Is that right?”

Dark Horse

B.J. Daniels

www.millsandboon.co.uk

B.J. DANIELS is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author. She wrote her first book after a career as an award-winning newspaper journalist and author of thirty-seven published short stories. She lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, and three springer spaniels. When not writing, she quilts, boats and plays tennis. Contact her at www.bjdaniels.com, on Facebook or on, Twitter, @bjdanielsauthor.

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This Whitehorse, Montana book is for Sue Olsen,

who has brightened many a day for me with her zest for life.

I just wish I had her energy.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Their footfalls echoed among the terrified screams and woeful sobbing as they moved down the long hallway. The nurse’s aide, a young woman named Tess, stopped at a room in the criminally insane section of the hospital and, with trembling fingers, pulled out a key to unlock the door.

“I really shouldn’t be doing this,” Tess said, looking around nervously. As the door swung open, she quickly moved back. Nikki St. James felt a gust of air escape the room like an exhaled breath. The light within the interior was dim, but she could hear the sound of a chair creaking rhythmically.

“I’m going to have to lock the door behind you,” Tess whispered.

“Not yet.” It took a moment for Nikki’s eyes to adjust to the dim light within the room. She fought back the chill that skittered over her skin like spider legs as her gaze finally lit on the occupant.

“This is the wrong one,” Nikki said, and tried to step back into the hallway.

“That’s her,” the nurse’s aide said, keeping her voice down. “That’s Marianne McGraw.”

Nikki stared at the white-haired, slack-faced woman rocking back and forth, back and forth, her gaze blank as if blind. “That woman is too old. Her hair—”

“Her hair turned white overnight after...well, after what happened. She’s been like this ever since.” Tess shuddered and hugged herself as if she felt the same chill Nikki did.

“She hasn’t spoken in all that time?”

“Not a word. Her husband comes every day to visit her. She never responds.”

Nikki was surprised that Travers McGraw would come to visit his former wife at all, given what she was suspected of doing. Maybe, like Nikki, he came hoping for answers. “What about her children?”

“They visit occasionally, the oldest son more than the others, but she doesn’t react as if she knows any of them. That’s all she does, rock like that for hours on end.”

Cull McGraw, the oldest son, Nikki thought. He’d been seven, a few years older than her, at the time of the kidnapping. His brothers Boone and Ledger were probably too young to remember the kidnapping, maybe even too young to really remember their mother.

“If you’re going in, you’d best hurry,” Tess said, still looking around nervously.

Nikki took a step into the room, hating the thought of the nurse’s aide locking the door behind her. As her eyes adjusted more to the lack of light, she saw that the woman had something clutched against her chest. A chill snaked up her spine as she made out two small glassy-eyed faces looking out at her from under matted heads of blond hair.

“What’s that she’s holding?” she whispered hoarsely as she hurriedly turned to Tess before the woman could close and lock the door.

“Her babies.”

“Her babies?”

“They’re just old dolls. They need to be thrown in the trash. We tried to switch them with new ones, but she had a fit. When we bathe or change her, we have to take them away. She screams and tears at her hair until we give them back. It was the doctor’s idea, giving her the dolls. Before that, she was...violent. She had to be sedated or you couldn’t get near her. Like I said, you go in there at your own risk. She’s...unpredictable and if provoked, dangerous since she’s a lot stronger than she looks. If I were you, I’d make it quick.”

Nikki reached for her notebook as the door closed behind her. The tumblers in the lock sounded like a cannon going off as Tess locked the door.

At your own risk. Comforting words, Nikki thought as she took a tentative step deeper into the padded room. She’d read everything she could find on the McGraw kidnapping case. There’d been a lot of media coverage at the time—and a lot of speculation. Every anniversary for years, the same information had been repeated along with the same plea for anything about the two missing twins, Oakley Travers McGraw and Jesse Rose McGraw.

But no one had ever come forward. The ransom money had never been recovered nor the babies found. There’d been nothing new to report at the one-year anniversary, then the five, ten, fifteen and twenty year.

Now with the twenty-fifth one coming up, few people other than those around Whitehorse, Montana, would probably even remember the kidnapping.

“There is nothing worse than old news,” her grandfather had told her when she’d dropped by his office at the large newspaper where he was publisher. Wendell St. James had been sitting behind his huge desk, his head of thick gray hair as wild as his eyebrows, his wire-rimmed glasses perched precariously on his patrician nose. “You’re wasting your time with this one.”

Actually he thought she was wasting her time writing true crime books. He’d hoped that she would follow him into the newspaper business instead. It didn’t matter that out of the nine books she’d written, she’d solved seven of the crimes.

“Someone knows what happened that night,” she’d argued.

“Well, if they do, it’s a pretty safe bet they aren’t going to suddenly talk after twenty-five years.”

“Maybe they’re getting old and they can’t live with what they’ve done,” she’d said. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

He’d snorted and settled his steely gaze on her. “I wasn’t for the other stories you chased, but this one...” He shook his head. “Don’t you think I know what you’re up to? I suspect this is your mother’s fault. She just couldn’t keep her mouth shut, could she?”

“She didn’t tell me about my father,” she’d corrected her grandfather. “I discovered it on my own.” For years, she’d believed she was the daughter of a stranger her mother had fallen for one night. A mistake. “All these years, the two of you have lied to me, letting me believe I was an accident, a one-night stand and that explained why I had my mother’s maiden name.”

“We protected you, you mean. And now you’ve got some lamebrained idea of clearing your father’s name.” Wendell swore under his breath. “My daughter has proven that she is the worst possible judge of men, given her track record. But I thought you were smarter than this.”

“There was no real proof my father was involved,” Nikki had argued stubbornly. Her biological father had been working at the Sundown Stallion Station the summer of the kidnapping. His name had been linked with Marianne McGraw’s, the mother of the twins. “Mother doesn’t believe he had an affair with Marianne, nor does she believe he had any part in the kidnapping.”

“What do you expect your mother to say?” he’d demanded.

“She knew him better than you.”

Her grandfather mugged a disbelieving face. “What else did she tell you about the kidnapping?”

Her mother had actually known little. While Nikki would have demanded answers, her mother said she was just happy to visit with her husband, since he was locked up until his trial.

“She didn’t ask him anything about the kidnapping because your mother wouldn’t have wanted to hear the truth.”

She’d realized then that her grandfather’s journalistic instincts had clearly skipped a generation. Nikki would have had to know everything about that night, even if it meant finding out that her husband was involved.

“A jury of twelve found him guilty of not only the affair—but the kidnapping,” her grandfather had said.

“On circumstantial evidence.”

“On the testimony of the nanny who said that Marianne McGraw wasn’t just unstable, she feared she might hurt the twins. The nanny also testified that she saw Marianne with your father numerous times in the barn and they seemed...close.”

She’d realized that her grandfather knew more about this case than he’d originally let on. “Yes, the nanny, the woman who is now the new wife of Travers McGraw. That alone is suspicious. I would think you’d encourage me to get the real story of what happened that night. And what does...close mean anyway?”

Her grandfather had put down his pen with an impatient sigh. “The case is dead cold after twenty-five years. Dozens of very good reporters, not to mention FBI agents and local law enforcement, did their best to solve it, so what in hell’s name makes you think that you can find something that they missed?”

She’d shrugged. “I have my grandfather’s stubborn arrogance and the genes of one of the suspects. Why not me?”

He’d wagged his gray head again. “Because you’re too personally involved, which means that whatever story you get won’t be worth printing.”

She’d dug her heels in. “I became a true crime writer because I wanted to know more than what I read in the newspapers.”

“Bite your tongue,” her grandfather said, only half joking. He sobered then, looking worried. “What if you don’t like what you find out about your father, or your mother, for that matter? I know my daughter.”

“What does that mean?”

He gave another shake of his gray head. “Clearly your mind is made up and since I can’t sanction this...” With an air of dismissal, he picked up his pen again. “If that’s all...”

She started toward the door but before she could exit, he called after her, “Watch your back, Punky.” It had been his nickname for her since she was a baby. “Remember what I told you about family secrets.”

People will kill to keep them, she thought now as she looked at Marianne McGraw.

The woman’s rocking didn’t change as Nikki stepped deeper into the room. “Mrs. McGraw?” She glanced behind her. The nurse’s aide stood just outside the door, glancing at her watch.

Nikki knew she didn’t have much time. It hadn’t been easy getting in here. It had cost her fifty bucks after she’d found the nurse’s aide was quitting soon to get married. She would have paid a lot more since so few people had laid eyes on Marianne McGraw in years.

She reached in her large purse for the camera she’d brought. No reporter had gotten in to see Marianne McGraw. Nikki had seen a photograph of Marianne McGraw taken twenty-five years ago, before her infant fraternal twins, a boy and girl, had been kidnapped. She’d been a beauty at thirty-two, a gorgeous dark-haired woman with huge green eyes and a contagious smile.

That woman held no resemblance to the one in the rocking chair. Marianne was a shell of her former self, appearing closer to eighty than fifty-seven.

“Mrs. McGraw, I’m Nikki St. James. I’m a true crime writer. How are you doing today?”

Nikki was close enough now that she could see nothing but blankness in the woman’s green-eyed stare. It was as if Marianne McGraw had gone blind—and deaf, as well. The face beneath the wild mane of white hair was haggard, pale, lifeless. The mouth hung open, the lips cracked and dry.

“I want to ask you about your babies,” Nikki said. “Oakley and Jesse Rose?” Was it her imagination or did the woman clutch the dolls even harder to her thin chest?

“What happened the night they disappeared?” Did Nikki really expect an answer? She could hope, couldn’t she? Mostly, she needed to hear the sound of her voice in this claustrophobic room. The rocking had a hypnotic effect, like being pulled down a rabbit hole.

“Everyone outside this room believes you had something to do with it. You and Nate Corwin.” No response, no reaction to the name. “Was he your lover?”

She moved closer, catching the decaying scent that rose from the rocking chair as if the woman was already dead. “I don’t believe it’s true. But I think you might know who kidnapped your babies,” she whispered.

The speculation at the time was that the kidnapping had been an inside job. Marianne had been suffering from postpartum depression. The nanny had said that Mrs. McGraw was having trouble bonding with the babies and that she’d been afraid to leave Marianne alone with them.

And, of course, there’d been Marianne’s secret lover—the man who everyone believed had helped her kidnap her own children. He’d been implicated because of a shovel found in the stables with his bloody fingerprints on it—along with fresh soil—even though no fresh graves had been found.

“Was Nate Corwin involved, Marianne?” The court had decided that Marianne McGraw couldn’t have acted alone. To get both babies out the second-story window, she would have needed an accomplice.

“Did my father help you?”

There was no sign that the woman even heard her, let alone recognized her alleged lover’s name. And if the woman had answered, Nikki knew she would have jumped out of her skin.

She checked to make sure Tess wasn’t watching as she snapped a photo of the woman in the rocker. The flash lit the room for an instant and made a snap sound. As she started to take another, she thought she heard a low growling sound coming from the rocker.

She hurriedly took another photo, though hesitantly, as the growling sound seemed to grow louder. Her eye on the viewfinder, she was still focused on the woman in the rocker when Marianne McGraw seemed to rock forward as if lurching from her chair.

A shriek escaped her before she could pull down the camera. She had closed her eyes and thrown herself back, slamming into the wall. Pain raced up one shoulder. She stifled a scream as she waited for the feel of the woman’s clawlike fingers on her throat.

But Marianne McGraw hadn’t moved. It had only been a trick of the light. And yet, Nikki noticed something different about the woman.

Marianne was smiling.

Chapter Two

When a hand touched her shoulder, Nikki jumped, unable to hold back the cry of fright.

“We have to go,” Tess said, tugging on her shoulder. “They’ll be coming around with meds soon.”

Nikki hadn’t heard the nurse’s aide enter the room. Her gaze had been on Marianne McGraw—until Tess touched her shoulder.

Now she let her gaze go back to the woman. The white-haired patient was hunched in her chair, rocking back and forth, back and forth. The only sound in the room was that of the creaking rocking chair and the pounding of Nikki’s pulse in her ears.

Marianne’s face was slack again, her mouth open, the smile gone. If it had ever been there.

Nikki tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She’d let her imagination get the best of her, thinking that the woman had risen up from that rocker for a moment.

But she hadn’t imagined the growling sound any more than she would forget that smile of amusement. Marianne McGraw was still inside that shriveled-up old white-haired woman.

And if she was right, she thought, looking down at the camera in her hand, there would be proof in the photos she’d taken.

Tess pulled on her arm. “You have to go. Now. And put that camera away!”

Nikki nodded and let Tess leave the room ahead of her. All her instincts told her to get out now. She’d read that psychopaths were surprisingly strong and with only Tess to pull the woman off her...

She studied the white-haired woman in the rocker, trying to decide if Marianne McGraw was the monster everyone believed her to be.

“Did you let Nate Corwin die for a crime he didn’t commit?” Nikki whispered. “Is your real accomplice still out there, spending the $250,000 without you? Or are you innocent in all this? As innocent as I believe my father was?”

For just an instant she thought she saw something flicker in Marianne McGraw’s green eyes. The chill that climbed up her backbone froze her to her core. “You know what happened that night, don’t you,” Nikki whispered at the woman. In frustration, she realized that if her father and this woman were behind the kidnaping, Marianne might be the only person alive who knew the truth.

“Come on!” Tess whispered from the hallway.

Nikki was still staring at the woman in the rocker. “I’m going to find out.” She turned to leave. Behind her, she heard the chilling low growling sound emanating from Marianne McGraw. It wasn’t until the door was closed and locked behind her that she let out the breath she’d been holding.

* * *

TESS MOTIONED FOR Nikki to follow her. The hallway was long and full of shadows this late at night. Their footfalls sounded too loud on the linoleum floor. The air was choked with the smell of disinfectants that didn’t quite cover the...other smells.

Someone cried out in a nearby room, making Nikki start. Behind them there were moans broken occasionally by bloodcurdling screams. She almost ran the last few feet to the back door.

Tess turned off the alarm, pushed open the door and, checking to make sure she had her keys, stepped out into the night air with her. They both breathed in the Montana night. Stars glittered in the midnight blue of the big sky overhead. In the distance, she could make out the dark outline of the Little Rockies.

“I told you she wouldn’t be any help to your story,” Tess said after a moment.

Nikki could tell that the nurse’s aide couldn’t wait until her last day at this job. She could see how a place like that would wear on you. Though she’d spent little time inside, she still was having trouble shaking it off.

“I still appreciate you letting me see her.” She knew the only reason she’d gotten in was because the nurse’s aide was getting married, had already given her two weeks’ notice and was planning to move to Missoula with her future husband. Nikki had read it in the local newspaper under Engagements. It was why she’d made a point of finding out when Tess worked her last late-night shifts.

Nearby an owl hooted. Tess hugged herself even though the night wasn’t that cold. Nikki longed for any sound other than the creak of a rocking chair. She feared she would hear it in her sleep.

“I heard you tell her that you were going to find out what happened that night,” Tess said. “Everyone around here already knows what happened.”

Did they? Nikki thought of Marianne McGraw. Her hair had turned white overnight and now she was almost a corpse. The only man who might know whether the rumors were true, Nikki’s own father, was dead.

“What does everyone believe happened?” she asked.

“She was having an affair with her horse trainer, so of course that’s who she got to help her get rid of the babies,” Tess said as she dug in her pocket for a cigarette. “I’m trying to quit. Before the wedding. But some nights...”

Nikki watched her light up and take a long drag. “Wait, why get rid of the babies? She still had three other sons.”

“I guess she figured they’d be fine with their father. But babies... Also they needed the money. Easier to kidnap a couple of babies than one of the younger boys who’d make a fuss.”

“Still, they didn’t have to kill them.”

“The horse trainer probably didn’t want to be saddled with two babies. Not very romantic running away together with the money—and two squalling babies.”

That was the story the prosecution had told that had gotten her father sent to prison. But was it true? “I thought he swore he didn’t do it.”

She scoffed. “That’s what they all say.”

Nate Corwin, according to what Nikki had been able to find, had said right up to the end when they were driving him to prison that he didn’t do it. Maybe, if the van hadn’t overturned and he wasn’t killed, then maybe he could have fought his conviction, found proof... Or maybe he’d lied right up until his last breath.

“But I thought it was never proven that he was even Marianne’s lover, let alone that he helped her kidnap her own children?” Nikki asked.

The nurse’s aide made a disbelieving sound. “Who else was there?”

“I’d heard the nanny might have been involved.”

“Patty? Well, I wouldn’t put it past her.”

This caught Nikki’s attention. “You know her?”

The nurse’s aide pursed her lips as if she shouldn’t be talking about this, but fortunately that didn’t stop her. Anyway, she’d already broken worse rules today by sneaking Nikki into the hospital.

“She accompanies her husband most of the time. You can tell Patty doesn’t like him visiting his ex-wife,” Tess said. Nikki got the impression that Patricia McGraw also didn’t like being called Patty.

“She won’t even step into Marianne’s room,” the nurse’s aide was saying between puffs. “Not that I blame her, but instead she stands in the hallway and watches them like a hawk. Imagine being jealous of that poor woman in that room.”

“I also heard that Travers McGraw himself might have been involved,” Nikki threw out.

Tess shook her head emphatically. “No way. Mr. McGraw is the nicest, kindest man. He would never hurt a fly, let alone his own children.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially even though they were alone at the back of the hospital and there was only open country behind them. “He hardly ever leaves the ranch except to come here to see his now ex-wife—that is until recently. I heard he’s not feeling well.”

Nikki had heard the same thing. Maybe that was why he’d agreed to let her interview him and his family for the book.

When Nikki had first approached him, she had expected him to turn her down in a letter. The fact that she’d made a name for herself after solving the murders in so many of her books had helped, she was sure.

“You seem to have a talent for finding out the truth,” Travers McGraw had said when he’d called her out of the blue. He’d been one of just three people she’d contacted about interviews and a book, but he’d been the one she wanted badly.

That was one reason she’d tried not to sound too eager when she’d talked to him. McGraw hadn’t done any interviews other than the local press—not since a reporter had broken into his house and scared his family half to death.

“I work at finding the truth,” she’d told him, surprised how nervous she was just to hear his voice.

“And you think you can find out the truth in our...case?”

“I want to.” More than he could possibly know. “But I should warn you up front, I need access to everyone involved. It would require me basically moving in for a while. Are you sure you’re agreeable to that?”

She’d held her breath. Long ago she’d found that making demands made her come off as more professional. It also shifted the power structure. She wasn’t begging to do their story. She was doing them a favor.

The long silence on the other end of the line had made her close her eyes, tightening her hand around the phone. She had wanted this so badly. Probably too badly. Maybe she should have—

“When are you thinking of coming here?” Travers McGraw asked.

Her heart had been beating so hard she could barely speak. “I’m finishing up a project now.”

“You do realize it’s been twenty-five years?”

Not quite. She’d still had two weeks before the actual date that the two babies had been stolen out of the nursery and never seen again. She wanted to be in the house on anniversary night.

“I can be there in a week.” She’d crossed her fingers even though she’d never been superstitious.

“I’ll take care of everything. Will you be flying to Billings? I can have one of my sons—”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll be driving.” Though she was anxious to meet his sons. But the only other way, besides driving to Whitehorse, was to take the train that came right through town.

“I hope you can work your magic for us,” McGraw said. “If there is anything I can do to help...”

“We’ll talk when I get there. It would be best if no one knew I was coming. I’m sure in a small town like Whitehorse, word will get out soon enough.”

“Yes, of course.”

She’d left a few days before she’d told him she would be arriving. She’d wanted to see Marianne McGraw and get a feel for Whitehorse before she went out to the ranch. Once word got out about her, she would lose her anonymity.

Tess put out her cigarette in the dirt.

“If Travers McGraw is so devoted to the mother of his children, then why did he marry the nanny not long after his divorce?” Nikki asked, hoping to get more out of Tess before she went back inside.

“It was nine years after the kidnapping. I heard Patty showed up with a baby in her arms and a sob story. He’s a nice man so I guess he was taken in by it.” Tess definitely didn’t like Patricia McGraw.

“A baby? Was it his?”

Again Tess shook her head stubbornly. “He adored his wife Marianne. He still does. Who knows whose baby Patty brought back with her.”

“So what are the chances that nanny Patty had something to do with the kidnapping?”

Tess raised an eyebrow as she looked anxiously toward the back door of the hospital. “She got the husband, didn’t she? Everyone says she married him for his money since there’s a pretty big difference in their ages and she wouldn’t have wanted Marianne’s babies to raise. She has her hands full with her own child. Talk about a spoiled brat.”

Nikki wondered what had brought the nanny back to the ranch after almost ten years. What if Patty Owens knew something about the kidnapping and Travers McGraw had married her to keep her quiet? But then why wait all those years?

“It certainly does make you wonder, huh,” Tess said as she reached for the hospital keys. But she hesitated before she opened the door. “Something horrible had to have happened that night to turn her hair white. Something so horrible she can’t speak.”

“Something other than having her babies kidnapped?” Nikki asked.

Tess shuddered. “I try not to think about it. But if she was in love with the horse trainer...” She leaned toward Nikki and said conspiratorially, “What if she killed the babies before she dropped them out the window?”

Nikki felt a chill race through her. That was something she’d never considered. From what she’d read about the case, it was believed that someone—Marianne, according to the prosecutor—had given the babies cough syrup containing codeine so they would be quiet. Maybe she’d given them too much.

Her head ached. She’d thought of little else but this case since she’d stumbled across the old newspaper clippings in her mother’s trunk and learned about her father, Nate Corwin—and the McGraw kidnapping.

At first she hadn’t understood why her mother would have kept the stories. That was until she recognized the man in the photograph. The photo of him had been taken on the day Nate Corwin was convicted.

“I always wondered why if you loved my father, you didn’t keep the Corwin name since you were legally married, right?” she’d asked her mother, and had seen horror cross her features.

“Why would you ask—” Her mother had never remarried but had gone back to her maiden name, St. James.

“You told me my father died.”

“He did die.”

“You just failed to mention he died on the way to prison for kidnapping and murder.”

“He didn’t do it. He swore he didn’t do it,” her mother had cried. She was convinced that her husband hadn’t been involved with Marianne McGraw nor had anything to do with the kidnapping, let alone the double murder of two innocent babies.

But someone had. And if not her father, then someone had let him be convicted and die for a crime he hadn’t committed.

Nikki was determined to get to the truth no matter what it took. She had just short of a week before the twenty-fifth anniversary of the kidnapping to get the real story. Travers desperately wanted her to do the book. It was the family she was worried about.

She’d been thinking about how to get close to at least one of the sons before she headed for Sundown Stallion Station and met the rest of the McGraws.

If there was one thing she believed it was that the people in that house had more information than they’d given the sheriff twenty-five years ago. They just might not realize the importance of what they’d seen or heard. Or they had their reasons for keeping it to themselves.

“So how did you get into writing crime books?” the nurse’s aide asked as if putting off going back down that long hallway by herself.

“It’s in my blood,” Nikki said. “My grandfather was a Pulitzer Prize–winning newspaper reporter. From as far back as I can remember, I wanted to be just like him.”

“He must be proud of you,” Tess said almost wistfully.

Nikki nodded distractedly. Proving herself to her grandfather was another reason she would do whatever it took to get the real kidnapping story—or die trying.

Chapter Three

Cull McGraw put down the windows on his pickup as he drove into Whitehorse. It was one of the big sky days where the deep blue ran from horizon to horizon without a cloud. In the distance, snow still capped the top of the Little Rockies, and everywhere he looked he saw spring as the land began to turn green.

Days like this, Cull felt like he could breathe. Part of it was getting out of the house. He just felt lucky that he’d intercepted the newspaper before Frieda, the family cook, had delivered it on the way to the kitchen.

He didn’t need a calendar to know what time of the year it was. He had seen the approaching anniversary of the kidnapping in the pained look in his father’s eyes. He could feel it take over the main house as if draping it in a black funeral shroud.

Every year, he just rode it out. The day would pass. Nothing would happen. No one would come forward with information about the missing twins. Another year would pass. Another year of watching his father get his hopes up only to be crushed under the weight of disappointment.

What always made it worse was the age-progression photographs in the newspaper of what Oakley and Jesse Rose would look like now and his father’s plea for any information on them.

Ahead, he could see the outskirts of the small Western town. Cull sighed. He should have known there would be a big write-up in the paper, since this would be the twenty-fifth anniversary. He glanced over at the newspaper lying on the seat next to him. He’d read just enough to set him off. When would his father realize that the twins were gone and would never be coming back? Knowing Travers McGraw the way he did, Cull knew his father would hold out hope until his last dying breath.

But this year, the publisher of the paper had talked his younger brother Ledger into an interview. As he drove down the main drag, he spotted Ledger’s pickup right where he knew it would be—in front of the Whitehorse Café.

* * *

JUST AS NIKKI had done for the past few days, she watched Ledger McGraw enter the Whitehorse Café. He had arrived at the same time each morning, pulled up out front in a Sundown Stallion Station pickup and adjusted his Stetson before climbing out.

Across the street in the park, Nikki observed him from behind the latest weekly newspaper as he hesitated just inside the café door. She saw him looking around, and after watching him for three mornings, she knew exactly what he was looking for. Who he was looking for.

He tipped his hat to the young redheaded waitress, just as he had the past three mornings, before he took a seat at a booth in her section. He had been three when the twins were kidnapped, which now made him about twenty-eight. There was an innocence about him and an old-fashioned chivalrous politeness. She’d seen it in the way he wiped his boots on the mat just outside the café door. In the way he always removed his hat the moment he stepped in. In the way he waited to be offered a seat as if he had all day.

She’d keyed in on Ledger when she’d realized that no one else in the McGraw family had such a predictable routine. That wasn’t the only reason she’d chosen him. In the days she’d been in town watching him each morning, she had seen his trusting nature and hoped he would be the son she might get to help her.

Nikki didn’t kid herself that this was going to be easy. She’d heard from other journalists that the family hated reporters and all of them except Travers had refused to talk about the kidnapping. She desperately needed someone on that ranch who would be agreeable to help her. Ledger might be the one.

Nikki wished she had more time before making her move. But the clock was ticking. The twenty-fifth anniversary of the kidnapping was approaching rapidly. It still gave her a chill when she looked at the photographs she’d taken of Marianne McGraw. It hadn’t been her imagination. The woman had risen up from her chair, eyes wild, hands clenched around the “babies” in her arms.

If Nikki had had any doubt that the woman was still in that shell of a body, she no longer did. Now she had to find out if the rumors were true about Marianne and Nate Corwin.

From across the street, she watched Ledger take a seat in his usual booth. A moment later, the redhead put a cup of coffee, a menu and the folded edition of what Nikki assumed was the Milk River Courier on his table.

The local weekly had just come out this morning. Ledger had been interviewed, which surprised her, since it was the first time she knew of that he’d spoken to the press, but it also made her even more convinced that Ledger was her way into the family.

Inside the café, she watched Ledger looking bashful as he picked up the menu, but he didn’t look at it. Instead, he secretly watched the redheaded waitress as she walked away.

Nikki saw something in his expression that touched her heart. A vulnerability that made her turn away for a moment. There was a yearning that was all too evident to anyone watching.

But no one else was watching. Clearly this young man was besotted with this redhead. Today, though, Nikki noticed something she’d missed the days before.

As she watched the waitress return to the table to take his order, she saw why she’d missed it. Along with the obvious sexual tension between them, there was the glint of a gold band on the young woman’s left-hand ring finger.

Her heart ached all the more for Ledger because this was clearly a case of unrequited love. Add to that an obvious shared history and Nikki knew she was witnessing heartbreak at its rawest. The redhead had moved on, but Ledger apparently hadn’t.

High school sweethearts? But if so, what had torn them apart? she wondered, then quickly brushed her curiosity aside. Her grandfather had often warned her about getting emotionally involved with the people she wrote about.

She knew in this case, she had to be especially careful.

“Care, and you lose your objectivity,” he’d said when, as a girl, she’d asked how he could write about the pain and suffering of people the way he did. “The best stories are about another person’s pain. It’s the nature of the business because people who’ve lost something make good human-interest stories. Everyone can relate because we have all lost something dear to us.”

“What have you lost?” she’d asked her grandfather, since she’d never seen vulnerability in him ever.

“Nothing.”

She’d always assumed that was true. Nothing stopped her grandfather from getting what he wanted. He’d go to any extreme to get a story and later to run the newspaper he bought, even if it meant risking his life or his business. But then again, that was one of the reasons Nikki suspected her grandmother had left him to marry another man. Not that her grandfather had seemed to notice. Or maybe he hid his pain well.

Ledger McGraw was in pain and it couldn’t help but touch her heart. Nikki knew her grandfather would encourage her to use this new information to her advantage.

“Keep your eye on the goal,” he’d always said. “The goal is getting the best story you possibly can. You aren’t there to try to make things better or bond with these people.”

That had sounded cold to her.

“It’s all about emotional distance. Pretend you’re a fly on the wall,” he’d said. “A fly that sometimes has to buzz around and get things going if you hope to get anything worth writing about.”

Nikki now felt anxious. She had to make her move today. Ledger would be finishing his breakfast soon. She couldn’t put this off any longer. Just as she decided it was time, she saw Ledger grab the redhead’s wrist as she started to step past his table.

Nikki saw those too shallowly buried emotions arc between them as the waitress reacted to whatever he was saying to her. The waitress jerked free of his hold and looked as if she might cry. But Nikki’s gaze was on Ledger’s face. His pain was so naked that she couldn’t help feeling it at heart level.

Ledger McGraw was incredibly young, his protectiveness for this woman touching. He’s still a boy, Nikki thought, and felt guilty for what she was about to do.

* * *

LEDGER IMMEDIATELY REGRETTED grabbing Abby’s wrist. Without looking at her, he said, “He’s hurt you again.”

“Don’t, Ledger.”

As she jerked free of his hold, he raised his gaze to meet hers again. “Abby.” The word came out a plea. “Any man who would hurt you—”

“Stay out of it, please,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “Please.” Her lowered voice cracked with emotion. “You don’t understand.”

He shook his head. He understood only too well. “A man who hurts you doesn’t love you.”

Her throat worked as she hastily brushed at her tears. “You don’t know anything about it,” she snapped before rushing toward the kitchen and away from him. “He just grabbed my wrist too hard. It’s nothing.”

He swore under his breath, realizing he didn’t know anything about it. He’d never understood what she saw in Wade Pierce. He especially didn’t understand why Abby stayed with the man.

Ledger finished what he could eat of his breakfast. Digging out the cost of his meal and tip from his jeans’ pocket, he dropped the money on the table, grabbed his hat and left.

Once outside, he stopped in the bright sunlight as he tried to control the emotions roiling inside him. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen the bruises, even though Abby had done her best to hide them. The bastard was mistreating her—he was sure of it.

He wanted to kill Wade with his bare hands. It was all he could do not to drive over to the feedlot and call the man out. But he knew that the only thing that would accomplish was more pain for Abby.

When was she going to see Wade for what he really was—a bully and a blowhard and... With a curse, he realized that Abby might never come to her senses. She was convinced he couldn’t live without her.

“Ledger?”

He turned at the sound of a woman’s voice.

Marta, the other waitress and a friend of Abby’s, held out the newspaper to him. “You forgot this,” she said, sympathy in her expression.

That was the trouble with a small town. Everyone knew your business, including watching your heart break. He hadn’t looked at the newspaper, wasn’t sure he wanted to. He hadn’t been thinking when the publisher had cornered him.

He took the paper from Marta and mumbled, “Thanks,” before the door closed. Gripping the newsprint, he turned toward his ranch pickup. He felt light-headed with fury and frustration and that constant ache in his heart. Not to mention he was worried about what would happen when the rest of the family saw the story in the paper.

And yet, all he could think about was driving over to the feedlot and dragging Wade out and kicking his butt all the way from Whitehorse to the North Dakota border.

But even as he thought it, he knew he was to blame for this. He’d let Abby get away. He’d practically propelled her into Wade’s arms. He hadn’t been ready for marriage. As much as he loved her, he’d wanted to wait until he had the money for a place of his own. He couldn’t bring Abby into the house at Sundown Stallion Station. He could barely stand living on the ranch himself. He’d told himself he couldn’t do that to her. Then Wade had come along, seeming to offer everything Ledger couldn’t.

Head down, he was almost to his pickup when he heard someone call his name.

* * *

THE COWBOY WHO got out of the second Sundown Stallion Station pickup made Nikki catch her breath. She’d seen photos of Cull McGraw, usually candid paparazzi shots over the years, but none of them captured the raw power of the man in person.

From his broad shoulders to the long denim-clad legs now striding toward his brother, he looked like a man to be reckoned with. The one thing he had in common with all the photos she’d ever seen of him was the scowl.

“Ledger!” Cull looked like he wanted to tear up the pavement as he closed in on his brother. “Have you seen this?” he demanded, waving what appeared to be a newspaper clutched in his big fist.

Ledger stared at him as if confused, as if he was still thinking of the waitress back in the café. Clearly, he hadn’t bothered to look at the newspaper he was now gripping in his own hand.

“Why in the hell did you talk to the press? Not to mention, why you didn’t tell me that Dad had raised the reward. Again!” Cull slapped the paper against his muscular thigh. “Patricia is going to lose her mind over this. All hell is going to break loose.”

“We probably shouldn’t talk about this out here,” she heard Ledger say. “Enough of our lives is open to public consumption, don’t you think?”

Cull swore and looked toward the café. Two waitresses stood looking out the large plate-glass window along with several patrons.

“Fine. We’ll take this up at home,” Cull said through gritted teeth as he turned on his boot heel and headed back toward his pickup.

With an expression of resignation, Ledger turned toward the café window. The redheaded waitress was no longer at the window. He stood for a moment, looking as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders before he headed for his truck and climbed behind the wheel. The engine revved and he roared past, sending up dust from Whitehorse’s main street.

Nikki shifted her gaze to Cull, realizing her plan had just taken a turn she hadn’t expected. She hesitated, no longer sure.

Cull had reached his truck, but hadn’t gotten in. He was watching Ledger leave, still looking angry.

If Cull was this upset about the article in the newspaper and new reward, wait until he found out that she would be doing a book about the family and the kidnapping case.

She almost changed her mind about the truly dangerous part of her plan. Almost.

* * *

JERKING THE DOOR of his pickup open, Cull climbed in, angry with himself for coming here this morning to confront his brother. He should have waited, but he’d been so angry with his brother... He knew Ledger hadn’t meant any harm.

Tossing the newspaper on the pickup seat, he reached for the key in the ignition. Like most people in Whitehorse, he’d left his keys in his rig while he’d confronted his brother. Had it been winter instead of a warm spring day, he would have left the truck running so it would be warm when he came back.

The newspaper fell open to the front-page story. A bold two-deck headline ran across the top of the page. Twenty-Five Years After Kidnapping: Where Are the McGraw Twins?

The damned anniversary of the kidnapping was something he dreaded, he thought with a shake of his head. Like clockwork, the paper did a story, longer ones on some years like this one. He hadn’t seen anything but the first few quotes, one from his brother Ledger and the other from their father, when he’d grabbed up the paper and headed for his truck.

It was just like the publisher to talk to Ledger. His brother was too nice, too polite. If the publisher had approached him, the man would have gotten one hell of a quote. Instead, Ledger had said that the loss of the twins was “killing” his father after twenty-five years of torture.

How could their father still be convinced that Oakley and Jesse Rose were alive? Travers McGraw had this crazy fantasy that the twins had been sold to a couple who, not realizing the babies were stolen, had raised them as their own.

Cull and his brothers had tried to reason with him. “How could this couple not have heard about the kidnapping? It was in all the newspapers across the country—not to mention on the television news nationally.”

His father had no answer, just that he knew the twins were alive and that they would be coming home one day soon.

He knew his father had to believe that. The alternative—that his wife and her alleged lover had kidnapped and killed the twins for money—was too horrible to contemplate.

Under the newspaper fold were the photographs of the babies that his father had provided. Both had the McGraw dark hair, the big blue eyes like their other siblings. Both looked angelic with their bow-shaped mouths and chubby cheeks. They looked like the kind of babies that a person would kill for.

When he’d seen that this year his father was doubling the reward for information, Cull had lost it.

With a curse, he could well imagine what his stepmother was going to say about this. Worse, a reward that size would bring every crank and con man out of the woodwork—just as it had over the years. What had his father been thinking? He was desperate, Cull realized, and the thought scared him.

His father had been sick and didn’t seem to be getting any better. Was this a last-ditch effort to find the twins because he was dying? Cull felt rattled as the idea sunk in. Was their father keeping the truth from them?

Accompanying the story were also photos of Oakley and Jesse Rose digitally age-progressed to show what the twins could look like now. Cull shuddered. How could his father bear to look at these? It was heartbreaking to see what they would have looked like had they lived.

The rest of the story was just a rehash of the kidnapping that summer night twenty-five years ago. What wasn’t in the story was that Travers McGraw had sold his most prized quarter horse to raise the ransom demand, and that even after horse trainer Nate Corwin’s arrest, the $250,000 ransom had never been recovered.

Nor was there anything about what Travers and Marianne had lost. Not to mention the children left behind. Their mother was in a mental institution and their father had fallen into a debilitating grief and held on to a crazy hope that might be killing him.

Cull wadded up the newspaper and threw it onto the passenger-side floorboard. Had he really thought he could keep this from his family? It was only a matter of time before everyone back at the ranch saw this. His stepmother, Patricia, had long ago tired of this yearly search for the twins. This latest story would set her off royally.

The local weekly paper was only the beginning, he thought with a curse. With the twenty-fifth anniversary of the kidnapping mere days away, other papers would pick up the story and run it, including television news shows.

A part of him wanted to leave town until things died back down again. But as upset as he was with his father, he knew he couldn’t run away. His father needed his sons, maybe now more than ever before. Because he might be sicker than they thought. Because once the story was out about the huge reward...

He backed out of his space, wanting to get home and put out as many fires as he could. He’d just thrown the pickup into first gear and gone only a few feet when a young woman stepped off the curb right in front of his truck.

Cull stomped on the brakes, but too late. He heard the truck make contact and saw her fall, disappearing from view before he could leap out, his heart in his throat, to find her sprawled on the pavement.

Chapter Four

Cull knelt beside the dark-haired woman on the pavement, terrified that he might have killed her. He heard people come running out of the café. Someone was calling 9-1-1 as he touched the young woman’s shoulder. She didn’t stir.

“Is she alive?” someone cried from in front of the café. “The 9-1-1 operator needs to know if she’s breathing and how badly she’s injured.”

Cull took the young woman’s slim wrist and felt for a pulse. But his own heart was pounding so hard, he couldn’t tell if she had one. He leaned closer to put his cheek against her full lips and prayed.

With a relief that left him weak, he felt her warm breath against his skin. As he drew back, her eyes opened. They were big and a startling blue as bright as the Montana day. A collective sigh of relief moved through the crowd as the woman tried to sit up.

“Don’t move,” Cull ordered. “An ambulance is on the way.”

She shook her head. “An ambulance?” She seemed to see the people around her. “What happened?”

“You stepped out into the street,” he said. “I didn’t see you until it was too late.”

“Please let me up. I’m fine.”

“But I hit you with my truck.”

She sat up, insistent that she was fine. “Just help me to my feet.” She glanced around on the ground next to her. “Where is my purse?”

Just then Sheriff McCall Crawford pushed her way through the crowd. “What happened?” she asked as she knelt beside the woman.

“She stepped into the street,” Cull said. “I hit my brakes but—” He’d had so much on his mind. He hadn’t even seen her until she’d stepped off the curb.

“I told you,” the woman said. “You didn’t hit me. You might have bumped into me and then... I must have fainted.” She looked around her. “If you would just hand me my purse...”

The sheriff glanced around as well, spied her large shoulder bag and handed it to her. “Are you sure you’re all right, Miss...?”

“St. James. Nikki St. James.”

“Still I’d like the EMTs to have a look at you,” the sheriff insisted.

“That really isn’t necessary. I feel so silly. If I had been paying attention...”

“No,” Cull said. “I was the one not paying attention.”

The ambulance arrived and two EMTs jumped out. Cull stepped back to let them get to the woman. Nikki St. James. He frowned. He’d seen that name somewhere recently.

The sheriff pulled him aside. “I’m going to have to write up a report on this. I suggest you call your insurance agent.”

“She said she was fine.”

“It doesn’t appear that you actually hit her,” the sheriff said. “More than likely she just stepped off the curb and fainted when she realized she’d stepped in front of your truck. But as a precaution, let your insurance office know. They might want you to get her to sign something.”

In front of his pickup, the EMTs were helping the woman to her feet. Cull heard her say she needed to go to her rental car. She was late for an appointment.

“I’m not sure you should be driving,” one of the EMTs said.

“I can take you wherever you need to go,” Cull said, stepping forward. “I agree. You shouldn’t drive.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Actually, I would appreciate that,” she said. “I’m not familiar with this area. As shaken as I am, I would probably get lost.”

“Where are you headed?”

“A ranch outside of town. The Sundown Stallion Station—are you familiar with it?”

Cull stared at her, feeling all the blood drain from his face. He remembered now where he’d seen her name before. On a scratch pad on his father’s desk.

* * *

SHERIFF MCCALL CRAWFORD watched Cull help the woman into the passenger side of his pickup. He looked more shaken than Nikki St. James did.

She tried to still the bad feeling that had settled in her stomach as she watched Cull slip behind the wheel. She’d seen his face when the woman had told him where she’d been headed—to his ranch.

McCall could no more help her suspicious nature than she could flap her arms and fly. She’d heard about scams involving people who appeared to have been hit by vehicles. It usually involved a payoff of some kind.

As she watched Cull start his truck and pull away, she couldn’t help wondering who Nikki St. James was and, more to the point, what she was after. Did she really have an appointment at the ranch? Or was she a reporter trying to get a foot in the door?

Travers McGraw had been forced to get a locked gate for the ranch entrance because of the publicity about the kidnapping. With the twenty-fifth anniversary coming up next week, McCall worried that Cull had just been scammed.

She looked toward the café, suspecting someone in there had witnessed the accident. Wouldn’t hurt to ask and still that tiny voice inside her that told her there was something wrong about this. Also she could use a cup of coffee.

As Cull drove past, she saw him glance at the woman in the passenger seat of his pickup. He looked worried. McCall thought he should be.

Nikki St. James was looking out the side window as they passed. She seemed to be interested in someone inside the café.

McCall turned to see redheaded waitress Abby Pierce standing in the window.

* * *

NIKKI TRIED TO RELAX, but she could feel Cull’s gaze on her periodically as he drove. That had been more than risky back there. He could very well have killed her.

Her original plan was for Ledger. She’d seen how kindhearted he was. It was one thing to have Travers on her side, but she needed at least one family member she could count on. She’d hoped her stunt would make him more amenable to helping her once he knew who she was.

With Cull, she wasn’t sure. At first, he’d been so scared that he would have done anything for her. But then she’d seen his shock when she’d told him where her appointment was.

As he drove south, she said, “Thank you for doing this. I hate to have you going out of your way for me.”

“It’s not out of my way. Your appointment is with Travers McGraw?”

“Yes.”

His gaze was like a laser. “He’s my father. I’m Cull McGraw, his oldest son.”

She’d feigned surprise. “I knew Whitehorse was a small town, but...”

Nikki saw suspicion in his eyes as they met hers. He would have been a fool not to be suspicious and Cull was no fool. She could see that right away.

She recalled the change in him she’d seen after she’d mentioned her name—and where her appointment was. Had the sheriff said something to him to make him question the accident?

He’d said little since they’d left the small Western town behind them. This part of Montana was rolling prairie where thousands of bison had once ranged. In the distance she could make out the Little Rockies, the only mountains on the horizon.

Wild country, she thought, watching the cowboy out of the corner of her eye. It took a special breed to live in a place where the temperature could change in a heartbeat from fifty above to fifty below zero.

Nikki tried to relax but it was hard. There was an all-male aura about Cull that seemed to fill the pickup cab. She would have had to be in a coma not to be aware of the handsome cowboy, even with his scowling. Did he suspect that what happened back there had been a stunt? She should have stayed with her original plan and waited for Ledger.

Too late to worry about that now. With relief, she saw the sign for the turnoff ahead. Her pulse jumped when she saw the Sundown Stallion Station horse ranch come into view. It reminded her of every horse movie she’d ever seen as a girl. Miles of brilliant green grass fenced in by sparkling white-painted wooden fence that made the place look as if it should be in Kentucky—not the backwoods of Montana.

Cull McGraw hit the remote control on the massive white gate that she knew had been erected not long after the kidnapping to keep out the media and morbidly curious. People not so unlike herself.

The gate swung open without a sound, and after he drove the truck through, it closed behind them.

She was really doing this. Her grandfather had taught her that nothing was out of line to get a story. She would get this one. Her head ached and she was regretting her stunt back in town. It almost got her killed and it hadn’t worked. Cull seemed even more distrusting of her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him glance over at her. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

Nervous, scared, excited, terrified. “I have a little headache,” she said. She’d hit the pavement harder than she’d planned.

He looked worried and guilty. She felt a sharp stab of her own guilt. But she quickly brushed it away. She had to know the truth about her father. Even as she thought it, a lump formed in her throat.

What if her grandfather was right and she couldn’t handle the truth?

This case was definitely more than just a book for her; she could admit that now. She’d come here to prove that Nate Corwin had been innocent.

“Nate Corwin was a philanderer,” her grandfather told her the day before she’d left for Whitehorse, Montana. “Of course, he was having an affair with Marianne McGraw. He loved women with money. It’s why he married your mother.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Too bad you can’t ask your mother, but she’s off on some shopping spree in Paris, I hear. But then again, she’d just defend him like she always did,” Wendell St. James had said. “Don’t come crying to me when you find out the worst.”

“I’ve never come crying to you,” she’d pointed out.

“Smart girl,” he’d said.

When she’d first confronted her mother about what she’d found out, Georgia had told her that her father had never liked Nate.

“It was because Nate was his own man,” her mother had told her. “Daddy tried to hire him right after we got married. But your father flat out refused. ‘I’m a horse trainer, not some flunky who sits behind a desk, especially a newspaper one.’” She’d chuckled. “You can imagine how that went over.”

Nikki could. “So there is no truth in the newspaper accounts that he was cheating on you?”

Her mother had smiled. “Your father loved me and adored you. He couldn’t wait to finish his work at the ranch and get back to us.”

“Why would he leave us if that were true?” she’d asked.

“Because his true love was his work and horses. Yes, he was away a lot because of his job, but he wouldn’t have cheated,” her mother had said simply.

Cheated? Or done much worse?

“I’ll get you some aspirin when we reach the house,” Cull said now as he drove along the tree-lined drive. “If you feel too ill, I’m sure you could get your appointment changed to another day.”

She shook her head. “Aspirin would be greatly appreciated. I really can’t put this off.”

The sun flickered through the dark green of the leaves. Ahead, the big white two-story house loomed.

Nikki looked over at him, torn between apprehension and excitement. She was finally going to get into the McGraw house. “I’m a little anxious about my appointment.”

“Yes, your appointment.”

She didn’t like the way he said it and decided to hit him with the worst of it and get it over with. “I’m nervous about meeting your father. I’d thought maybe he would have told you. I’m a true crime writer. I’m going to write a book on the kidnapping.”

Cull swore as he brought the pickup to a dust-boiling stop in front of the house. He seemed at a loss for words as he stared at her and she stared right back as if unable to understand the problem. A muscle jumped in his jaw, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly she thought it might snap. Those blue eyes had turned to ice and peered out just as cold and hard.

Fortunately, they were both saved. The front door of the house opened; a woman appeared. Nikki knew at once that she was the notorious Patricia “Patty” Owens McGraw.

She’d been able to learn little about Patricia Owens, the nanny, or Patty Owens McGraw, the second Mrs. McGraw, other than the fact that she was from a neighboring town and had gotten Ted to divorce Marianne so he could marry her sixteen years ago.

The only photo she’d seen of Patty the nanny had been a blurry black and white that had run in the newspaper at the time of the kidnapping. It showed a teenager with straight brown hair, thick glasses and a timid look in her pale eyes.

That’s why Nikki was surprised to see the woman who came out to the edge of the porch. Patty was now winter-wheat blonde, sans the ugly eyeglasses, and any sign of timidity was long gone. She wore a large rock on her ring finger and several nice-sized diamonds on each earlobe—all catching the sunlight and glittering wildly. The dress she wore looked straight from some swank New York City boutique, as did her high heels and the rest of her tasteful adornments.

Patty had been nineteen the summer when she’d gone to work as a nanny at the ranch, which would make her about forty-four now. Her husband, Travers McGraw, was sixty.

Frowning, Patricia spun on one high heel and marched back into the house, leaving the front door standing open. She didn’t look happy to see that Cull had a woman with him. Had Travers told his wife about Nikki?

She stared at the rambling, infamous house she’d only seen in grainy newspaper photographs—and always from a distance. Was she really going to pull this off? Her heart was a low thunder in her chest as she opened her door and stepped out of the pickup.

She tried to wrangle in her fears. The clock was ticking. She’d done this all before. Once she showed up, anyone with a secret started getting nervous. It usually didn’t take long before the mystery began to unravel.

Nikki had only days to discover the truth before the anniversary, which was usually plenty of time to make progress on a book. But from the look on Patricia’s face before she’d disappeared back inside the house, and Cull’s cursing inside his pickup, it was going to be an uphill battle.

* * *

CULL KNEW HE’D acted impulsively. He should have listened to Sheriff Crawford. Instead he’d offered the woman a ride only to realize she was going to the same place he was—and for a reason he would never have imagined.

“True crime writer?” he repeated as he climbed out of the pickup after her. Had his father lost his mind?

He’d looked up to see his stepmother appear in the open doorway looking like she’d sucked on a lemon before she’d gone back inside in a snit. Did she already know about this? If not, when she found out, she would go ballistic. He felt the same way himself.

Cull wanted to storm into the house and demand to know what the hell his father had been thinking. Not that it would do any good, he thought, remembering the newspaper story.

He saw Nikki St. James rub her temple where she’d hit the pavement. Even if she’d stepped in front of his pickup on purpose, he grimaced at the thought that he could have killed her. He reminded himself that he’d promised her aspirin, while a part of him wished he’d almost hit the gas harder back in town.

Mostly, he was just anxious to see his father. The only one more anxious, he noticed, was Nikki St. James. His father had no idea what he’d done.

Raised voices came from the house. Had Patricia seen the newspaper article and the increased reward her husband was offering? If so, she was already on the warpath. Even after twenty-five years, there was too much curiosity about their family. So much so that they seldom had guests out to the house. They’d isolated themselves from the world and now his father had invited the worst kind of reporter into their home.

What did his father even know about this Nikki St. James? Had he checked out her credentials? One thing was obvious, Cull thought as he walked with her toward the house. All Hades was about to be unleashed.

He hesitated at the porch steps, noticing something he hadn’t before. Clearly this woman wasn’t from around here, given the way she was dressed—in slacks, a white blouse, pale coral tank and high heels—and the faint accent he hadn’t been able to place. It definitely wasn’t Montanan.

“Hold up,” Cull said to her backside as she continued up the steps.

She stopped midway but didn’t turn until he joined her. She looked pale and for a moment he worried that she was more hurt that she’d let on. She touched her temple. He could see that it was red, a bruise forming, and his heart ached at the sight. No matter who she was or what she was doing here, he hadn’t meant to hurt her. If only he’d been paying attention...

“Maybe you should sit down for a minute,” he suggested.

“I’m fine. Really.”

She didn’t look fine and he felt guilty in spite of how he felt about her being here. He actually felt sorry for her. She had no idea what she was getting into.

“Look, I’m not sure whose idea this was, but it was a bad one. What you’re about to walk into... My family—”

He didn’t get the chance to warn her further, let alone try to talk her out of this before it was too late. His stepsister, Kitten, stormed out of the house and across the wide porch to block their path. Kitten was sixteen and at the age that she thought everything was about her. He could see from the scowl on her face that she’d been arguing with her mother—as usual.

“My mother is impossible,” the teen said around a wad of gum. She was dressed in a crop top and a very short skirt and strappy sandals, as if headed for town, a big expensive leather purse slung over one shoulder. “Can I borrow your truck?”

“No, Kitten,” he said, and started to push past her.

“One of these days you’ll regret being so mean to me,” the girl said, then seemed to see Nikki. “Who’s this?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes suspiciously as she took in the woman next to him. “You finally get a girlfriend, Cull?”

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