Forgotten Secrets (15 page)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The large oak door snicked quietly behind them, closing Thayne and Riley in the Rivertons’ main house. Thayne surveyed the living area. He’d never been inside the place. Mahogany wood and plush furniture exuded money, but the room had been decorated for comfort and convenience, not for show. A couple of Remington paintings hung on the wall, and a large shadow box filled with stones, arrowheads, and other treasures held center stage in a massive wall unit.

Arms crossed, Shep stood silent between Thayne and his boss. Like Brett’s right-hand man could stop Thayne. He’d heard Shep had lung cancer, and the rumors seemed to be true. Normally, he had a cigarette glued to his fingers. No nicotine stains. He’d quit at least a month or two ago.

“You look like hell, Brett.”

“Thanks.” He eased into a leather chair.

Thayne might not appreciate the guy and his seedy lawyers bugging Pops, but Brett was four years older than Thayne. He’d graduated a year ahead of Hudson. Brett had played on the football team. Defensive end. The guy had been fast, agile, and muscular.

Not anymore. Thayne could see Brett’s collarbones recessed, his cheeks hollow, his skin gray.

Thayne shoved aside the sympathy for Brett’s obvious medical condition. The moment Thayne had recognized the high-tech surveillance, the hairs on the back of his neck had shot to attention. Riley had cautioned him not to get his hopes up, that Gram might be drawing the wrong conclusions because of her AD. Good advice, but right now he had to wonder what Brett Riverton was hiding.

“I’m here about Cheyenne.”

“You found her?” Something akin to pain flickered across Brett’s features. Interesting. Guilt, maybe?

“Not yet.”

Brett’s brow furrowed into deep lines. “I’d hoped . . .” He let out a sharp curse. “I’m sorry I haven’t been more help. As you can see, I’m stuck on the ranch for the time being. What can I do?”

“Answer my questions, Brett. You were headed to see my father today. What about?”

Brett’s jaw tensed. He clearly didn’t want to say anything. Thayne recognized the struggle on his face.

“When’d you upgrade the surveillance, Brett?” Thayne asked. “I recognize the models. The general public doesn’t have access to them. What are you into?”

Brett’s jaw tightened. “A few rustlers have thinned out the cattle too much to my liking.”

“Really?” Thayne crossed his arms. “You can’t lie worth a damn.”

A fleeting smile tugged at Brett’s lip. “I’ve been told I’m quite good at avoiding the truth.”

“Did you lie to my sister?”

Brett’s expression went blank. “That’s none of your business.”

“Everything about Cheyenne is my business until we find her.” Thayne didn’t like the slight thickening in his voice, but every hour that went by, the fear deep in his belly grew larger. “She’s been missing for more than thirty-six hours.” He glanced at Riley.

“After thirty-six hours, the chances of an abduction victim’s survival drop to less than five percent.” Riley strode across the room. “Special Agent Riley Lambert, FBI, Mr. Riverton. I’d be interested in your permits for some of this equipment. It was mounted on federal lands.”

“I built the road,” Brett growled.

“The government owns the land,” she countered. “I could cite you.”

“Leave him alone, Blackwood,” Shep erupted from the door. “Either that or do your job so we don’t have to.”

Thayne tilted his head. “What’s he talking about?”

Brett shook his head. His knuckles had whitened on the chair’s arms. “Get my pain meds, Shep.”

The hand scowled but rushed out of the room, slamming a door at the rear of the house.

“We’ve had some thefts since spring.” Beads of sweat popped on Brett’s forehead and upper lip. His grip tightened on the wheelchair’s arms. “About six months ago, one of our hands took off after he stole some new equipment. I haven’t been able to track him down to press charges.”

Thayne studied the man who had been his older brother’s rival in high school. Brett was tough to read. Normally Thayne could smell a lie. Brett had been right; he was a good liar, but he couldn’t hide his physical condition or the fact that he was keeping a secret related to Cheyenne.

Determined to discover the truth, Thayne walked over to Brett and towered over him. “Where were you Friday night?”

Brett chuckled, the sound having little to do with humor. “Where do you think?” He swept his arm down his emaciated body.

“What about Shep?”

“In Cody. Getting chemo.” Brett slouched in the chair. “Look, I had nothing to do with Cheyenne’s disappearance. Believe me.”

Thayne glanced at Riley. She nodded and handed him the necklace. From her expression, she agreed that Brett was hiding something. Thayne had run out of patience. He held the evidence in front of Brett’s face. “Do you recognize this?”

If possible, Brett’s face paled even more. “Where’d you get it?”

“I’m asking the questions.” Thayne tilted the bag, the large stone gleaming even in the dim interior light of Brett’s home. “What’s it worth?”

He rolled backward slightly. “This is ridiculous. The price of the necklace is irrelevant.”

“It’s from your mine, isn’t it?” Thayne asked.

“You know it is. It’s got the color indicative of the vein of Wyoming jade my great-grandfather discovered.”

“Actually, thanks for that information.” Thayne scribbled something else into his notepad. “Expensive. Unique. I bet I could find the jeweler who you commissioned. You might as well tell me.”

“You’re crazy. I have no idea where your sister is or why she was taken. Hell, I donated Mac and the plane for the search. I encouraged my hands to help. I’d be there, too, if I could.”

Riley stood beside Thayne. “It’s quite common for perpetrators to insert themselves into the search or investigation.”

Thayne could have cheered. He loved the way she’d piled on. Federal weight would help. Brett wouldn’t be easy to rattle.

“That’s BS.” Brett’s fists clenched, but his hands shook.

“You and Cheyenne were involved. We have a witness.” No need to tell him it was Gram.

Brett remained silent.

“You’re lovers.” Thayne clipped the words. Normally, he’d have tried to ignore Cheyenne’s private life. She was, after all, his sister. But he had no choice.

Thayne shoved the plastic bag holding the necklace into Brett’s hand. “You gave Cheyenne a piece of jewelry worth a fortune. Either that or she stole it.” Thayne didn’t mention the other theory, but he could feel Brett crumbling. This was Cheyenne’s necklace all right.

“You son of a bitch.”

“If it gets my sister back, I’ve got no problem with that.”

Riley leaned in. “Mr. Riverton, please. You’re obviously trying to protect someone. Tell me about the necklace. It was found near Cheyenne’s cell phone with some of her personal items. We think she was wearing it when she was taken.”

Brett closed his eyes. “Damn her. I told her not to wear the necklace.”

His right hand began to tremor; then a seizure moved through his body. Shep raced into the room. He glared at Thayne. “What the hell did you do?”

“Mr. Riverton?” Shep opened his mouth and shoved two pills down his throat. He looked around wildly.

Thayne shoved a glass of water into Shep’s hand. He tipped it. “Drink up.”

Brett swallowed. His eyes rolled back into his head. The muscles in his extremities jerked. He started to slide out of the chair. Thayne rushed to help. He and Shep stabilized him.

“I’m calling 9-1-1.” Riley tugged her phone from her pocket.

“Don’t,” Shep said. “There’s nothing anyone can do. Give the medicine a couple of minutes.”

“He needs a doctor.”

“They’re doing all they can.” Shep gulped. “Mr. Riverton’s been poisoned and is being treated, but it’s a slow process.” Shep closed his eyes. “He needs to keep his illness as quiet as possible, or the board of directors will take over. It’ll ruin him.”

Thayne winced at Brett’s trembling body. “We’ll give it a few minutes. Then I call an ambulance.”

Riley kept her phone out, thumb poised over the screen. Within two minutes, the tremors in Brett’s hand lessened, and the sharp spasms transformed into flutters.

Thayne’s satphone rang, and he glanced at the screen. “We’ll be outside, Shep,” Thayne said, “but we’re not finished.”

“Blackwood,” he said into the receiver. “Hold on for a second.”

He escorted Riley to the front porch. An armed cowboy strode toward them.

Thayne shifted his jacket back, showing his weapon. “Walk the other way.” The man paused, but behind Thayne, Shep stood in the doorway and gave a quick nod.

Thayne led Riley to his vehicle. “We need privacy,” he said and activated the speaker.

“We identified the body buried near the swimming hole,” Deputy Pendergrass reported. “Special Agent Lambert was right. Midforties, time of death is sometime in the spring.”

“Who is it?”

“We lucked out. The guy had dental records. He’d had a tooth abscess about a year ago. He worked for Brett Riverton.”

The murmur of hushed voices filtered through the locked door. Cheyenne reached out a hand to her patient’s forehead. The fever had spiked again. With gentle fingertips, she took Bethany’s pulse: 120.

Bethany groaned, glassy eyes staring out. “Can you hear me?” Cheyenne whispered softly. “You have to fight, Bethany. I’ll do everything I can to save you, but you have to fight.”

For a split second, her patient’s gaze met hers. They were about the same age. Cheyenne could see a spine of steel in this woman. “Ian tells me they need you.”

A lone tear slid down Bethany’s cheek. “Help me,” she whispered; then her eyes closed.

Cheyenne had had enough. She stomped to the metal door. Pulse racing, she lifted her fist, ready to pound against it, then stilled. Would she make matters worse for Ian and the others? She reached for the pendant she’d worn around her neck for the past six months.

They must have torn it off her sometime after they’d abducted her, and right now she wished she could clutch it in her hands, feel the smoothness of the stone, picture the man who had given it to her. Find strength in him.

He’d hurt her, more than she’d ever thought she could be hurt. Even then, there was so much she hadn’t said. So much that could never be said. If she got out of this alive, she’d . . .

She sighed. What good would it do? Sometimes you couldn’t go back. Only forward. She looked over her shoulder. If she didn’t get those antibiotics, Bethany would die.

Even then, someone was out to kill both of them.

“Her words could be fabricated,” a man’s low voice said from the other side of the door. “You know we cannot trust anyone from the outside.”

“Bethany could die, Father,” a woman argued. “Is that what you want?”

There was a tad-too-long pause. “How dare you.” A loud slap sounded. “She is my child.”

“Then perhaps you don’t trust Ian?” the woman asked, so softly Cheyenne could barely hear her.

“He’s spent too much time with the doctor. Which gives me another idea. Perhaps we should keep the doctor with us? Permanently. She could train young Micah. He’s shown a gift for science and math. He’d make an excellent physician.”

Cheyenne’s knees trembled. They were planning to keep her?

“A stranger?” Adelaide’s voice rose. “Stay here?”

“Family
is
everything.” The man sighed. “You’re right. She’ll betray us. They all do, and we can’t take the chance. Once Bethany is well, we must dispose of the doctor.”

“Father—”

“I’ve made my decision.”

“Yes, Father.”

“You’re a good daughter, Adelaide.”

A chime rang. “Time for music lessons,” the man said. “Micah has a gift for the cello as well, did you know? His father very nearly broke his hand and ruined everything, but we got him away just in time.”

“Only at your behest, Father.” The woman’s voice paused. “What about the antibiotics?”

“I’m concerned Ian can’t handle the job alone. Go with him. You can report to me. And Adelaide, remind him of the punishment for disobedience.” There was a pause. “I expect perfection, nothing less.”

Cheyenne closed her eyes. Without help, how could she possibly escape? It was hopeless.

“Stop it, Cheyenne. There’s always a way.” If her grandmother had taught her anything, it was never to give up.
You can give in, you can give out, but never give up,
Gram would say.

“Not giving up, Gram. You’ll see.”

She entered the bathroom and splashed water on her face, feeling for the towel. They’d removed any sharp instruments from the room. She had no weapons . . . unless . . .

She looked at the wooden towel rack to the side of the sink. Maybe, just maybe. She grabbed the dowel and pulled with all her might. She’d become so weak. She’d hidden her food and poured out her beverages since she’d realized someone was poisoning her.

No use.

She propped herself against the wall and lifted her legs, jamming them against the wood. A loud crack echoed through the bathroom.

Her heart raced, and she kicked again. Finally, the splintered rod clattered to the floor. She knelt down and picked it up, turning it in her hand.