Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [7]
He hesitated, then shoved his hair out of his eyes with both hands.
“Is there something else?” she asked, determined not to let this man with his wild allegations get to her.
“Oh, yeah.”
Her insides churned. “More speculation?”
“Maybe.” He mounted the steps. “As I said, it looks like I might need your help.”
“You?”
“The detective in charge—his name is Henderson—he thinks I had something to do with Mary Theresa aka Marquise’s disappearance.”
“You? But why—?”
A sharp woof heralded Barkley’s arrival. Three legs moving swiftly, the shepherd tore into the yard and raced up the steps. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled, his fangs flashed an evil white, and his mangled ear lay flat and menacing against his head as he smelled the intruder. He growled low in his throat, his black lips curling back, eyes centered on Thane.
“Where’s Becca?” Maggie asked as if the dog could answer. Thoughts of her sister were thrust aside. Maggie’s heart pounded. She scanned the darkness, searching for her daughter.
Barkley snarled and barked.
“What?” Thane asked, then commanded, “Hush,” to the dog, who backed off but still growled from beneath the rusting porch swing.
Maggie, fear turning her heart to ice, walked down the steps and headed for the corral that opened to the trail Becca had taken. Her gaze pierced the night-darkened fields. “Becca. She went riding about an hour ago. Barkley was with her…” Maggie strained, hoping to see the horse and rider but spying nothing except a few head of cattle, dark shapes shifting against the grass. Why would the dog return alone? Goose bumps rose on her flesh. “I hope something didn’t happen…”
Brrring!
From the open door of the cabin the phone jangled.
Unnamed fear congealed deep in her soul. She turned on her heel, raced across the yard and up the steps to the house. Past Thane and through the screen door, she flew through the living room and snagged the receiver. “Hello?”
The screen door banged shut, and Thane, with the growling dog guarding him, stared through the mesh.
“Ms. McCrae? Margaret Elizabeth Reilly McCrae?”
Her heart hammered wildly. “Speaking,” she said, her eyes fixed on Thane’s as dread took a stranglehold of her heart.
“This is Detective Henderson with the Denver police.”
Her knees buckled, and she sank against the wall. “Yes?”
“Is Mary Theresa Gillette, also known by the single name of Marquise, your sister?”
Maggie began to shake. Her blood turned to ice. Biting her lip, she stared at Thane’s face visible through the screen and nodded slowly, as if the detective could see her. “Yes,” she whispered.
A beat.
She wanted to die.
Tears filled her throat.
“I’m afraid I have some bad news for you, Ms. McCrae,” Henderson said solemnly. Maggie’s head pounded, her fingers tightened over the receiver. “It’s about your sister…”
Chapter Two
Maggie replaced the receiver slowly and licked her dry lips. She couldn’t breathe, could barely think. A thousand thoughts screamed through her head, a million denials. “That was Detective Henderson,” she said dully, her head pounding, her world suddenly out of kilter.
Thane had entered the house during Maggie’s short conversation and stood at the door, his expression intense, his eyes narrowed.
“I figured as much.”
“This detective. Henderson. Do…do you know him?”
“We’ve met.” Thane rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “He comes off like a damned bloodhound. Has a good reputation.”
“That’s what we want, don’t we?” she asked, and met eyes that were shuttered, an intense expression that didn’t give an inch.
“Yep.”
Still reeling in disbelief, Maggie sagged into a chair and propped her forehead with one hand. She felt as if a ton of bricks was weighing her down, dragging her into an emotional abyss