Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [8]
“You’re right,” she admitted, as the shock gave way to pain. “Henderson thinks Mary Theresa might be dead.” The words were horrible, echoing painfully in her heart and bringing tears she refused to shed to her eyes. “I can’t believe it,” she admitted, shaking her head in silent denial. “I just can’t believe it.”
“No one knows for sure what happened to her.” Thane took a cursory glance around the small, cozy room and walked to the river-rock fireplace where he studied the pictures gathering dust upon the old notched mantel. “There’s a chance she may still be alive.”
“She has to be.” Maggie wouldn’t believe Mary Theresa was gone.
“What exactly did Henderson say?”
“Not much.” Not nearly enough. The sketchy details Henderson had given Maggie only begged more questions rather than answering any. “Just that her secretary, Eve…Oh, I’m really losing it, I can’t remember Eve’s last name.”
“Lawrence.”
“That’s it,” Maggie said, slightly disturbed that Thane knew so much about her sister’s life when they’d been divorced for years. “Anyway, Eve tried to get ahold of Mary Theresa and couldn’t—and I think someone from the station called as well. Anyway, the police and the news crew, I think, drove to her house and found a way in. Mary Theresa wasn’t home, and one of her cars was missing.”
“Didn’t anyone call you?”
“No.” Maggie shook her head.
“Don’t you think that’s odd?”
“Yeah,” she said, then leaned back in her chair. “But last weekend Becca and I drove up to Coeur d’Alene, and if anyone phoned, I wouldn’t have known it because I don’t have my answering machine hooked up.”
He looked at her hard. “Why not?”
“It’s a long story,” she said, evading the issue. It was bad enough that Thane put her on edge, but the entire situation had her doubting what was real, what was imagined. “I moved here to get away from all the rat race and chaos of the city,” she admitted, hedging just a little. Never in a million years would she have thought that she would confide in Thane Walker, the one man who had, years before, stolen her heart and callously shredded it into a million painful pieces. The less this man knew about her personal life, the better.
He cocked one eyebrow. “Seems like an answering machine would make life easier.”
“Sometimes, I guess.”
“Most of the time.” He picked up a recent picture of Becca, his eyes scanning the school photograph that showed off teeth still too big for her head, dark hair that refused to be tamed, and eyes that sparkled with the same green fire as Maggie’s. “Your daughter?”
“Yes.” No reason to lie. “She’s thirteen.”
“Pretty,” he said, slicing Maggie a glance. “Looks like her mother.”
She wasn’t about to fall for that line. At least not again. She was pushing forty, for God’s sake, not a naive girl of seventeen any longer. “People say she has my temper.”
The edges of his lips lifted a bit. “I pity anyone who crosses her.”
“Unfortunately, it’s usually me.”
“I imagine you can handle yourself.”
“Most of the time.” Maggie glanced at her watch, then gnawed nervously on the corner of her mouth and climbed to her feet. “She should be home by now.” Walking to the large window by the front door, she flipped on the security lamp that was suspended on a pole near the barn. Instantly the gravel lot was washed with garish blue light.
“Where is she?”
“Riding. The ridge, I think.” Maggie folded her arms under her breasts and stared through the glass. “She left when it was still light and I thought she’d be back by now.” Already worried sick about Mary Theresa, Maggie felt a gnawing anxiety about her daughter. Opening the door, she walked onto the porch and told herself to calm down, to ignore the rapid beating of her heart. Too much was going on. It wasn’t enough that she had to deal with Thane again, or that he was still as earthy and irreverent as ever, or that Mary Theresa was missing. No, she had to be worried about Becca as well.
She heard Thane follow her outside, felt him standing close behind her, sensed the raw heat and intensity that seemed