Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [27]
“Exactly.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“I’m not sure that’s good enough, Thane,” she admitted.
“It’s the best I can offer.” His jaw was rock-hard, his blue-gray eyes steady and focused on her so intently she saw his pupils dilate.
The back of her throat went dry, and a small, very feminine part of her wanted to believe in him, to put the deception of the past behind her, to give him the benefit of the doubt. “You’re…you’re asking a lot.”
“I know.” He was serious, pain evidenced in the lines fanning from his eyes. “But I have to ask. I could be in trouble, Maggie. The police act like they think I was somehow responsible for Mary Theresa’s disappearance.”
Maggie thought of the desperate voice she’d heard while feeding the horses. Her sister’s voice.
“What do you say?” he asked.
Maggie didn’t answer. She didn’t know what to say.
He snorted and shook his head. “You don’t believe me, either.” His voice was flat, without judgment. “Well, hell, I suppose I deserve this, but I’m tellin’ you right here and now, I didn’t do anything to harm her.”
If only she could believe him, trust in those cold blue eyes, see beyond the cynical man in rawhide and denim and peer into the depths of his inky soul. What would she find, she wondered, then decided she was better off not knowing. “All right,” she heard herself saying, “I’ll ride with you, Thane. You’ve got over a thousand miles to convince me that you’re on a mission of mercy, that you’re just interested in the safety and whereabouts of your ex-wife, that Mary Theresa’s welfare is your primary objective.”
He didn’t so much as flinch at the barbs of sarcasm in her words. “Let’s get a move on.” His gaze swept the interior of the cabin, to the fireplace, where only dead ash was testament of last night’s fire. “You’ve taken care of everything here?”
“Yep.” She nodded. “As soon as Becca’s packed, I’m ready. Barkley’s going to camp out in the barn with the other animals until Charlie can pick him up and take him to his place. So”—she looked around her home one last time to see that everything was as it should be—“I guess we’re all set.”
He nodded and walked down the short hallway to Becca’s room, when the phone rang again. Maggie snatched it up, crossing her fingers in the hope that it was her sister.
“Ms. McCrae?” A male voice. Her heart nose-dived. “This is Craig Beaumont. I work with your sister, and I was just checking to see if you had any idea where she might be.”
Maggie sagged against the cupboards. “No,” she said, her throat closing. This was all starting to be too real. She’d never met Beaumont, only knew he was a “pretty boy who would sell his mother to the devil for higher ratings,” according to Mary Theresa. Craig was worried, he claimed, and explained how Marquise hadn’t come in to work last Friday, how everyone at the station was worried, and how they’d been checking around. “…we tried to call earlier, but couldn’t get hold of you.”
“I’m sorry.” She hung up a few seconds later and felt dead inside, her hopes dashed.
“Trouble?” Thane asked as he walked into the kitchen, carrying her athletic bag and a smaller case that housed Becca’s portable CD player.
“That was the man Mary Theresa works with.”
“Ron Bishop, the station manager.”
“No, her cohost.”
“Beaumont.”
“Yes. They were just checking.”
“So she hasn’t shown up anywhere yet.”
“No.” She shook her head and decided that the sooner she got to Denver, the better. “We’d better get going.”
“I’ll load up.” Maggie helped Becca out to the truck, apologized profusely to Barkley as she locked him in a stall with the horses, then closed her ears to the sound of his whining as she slammed the door of the barn shut behind her.
With one eye to the clouds that gathered in the morning sky, Thane stowed the bags beneath a canopy covering the bed of his truck, then climbed behind the wheel. They were squeezed together more tightly than Maggie liked, but she held her tongue.
As soon as they put Becca on the