Losing Ladd (13 page)

Heart pounding hard within his chest,
Travis snapped a few quick shots of the men with his cell phone.
Maybe someone else would recognize them. Debating whether or not to
follow Jeremiah, Travis hesitated. The one man remained outside. If
Travis drove by him now, he might call attention to himself and
arouse suspicion. But with Jeremiah putting distance between them,
Travis might lose his primary target. Pressure compounded as he
silently counted the seconds. Jeremiah’s taillights illuminated,
then disappeared as he turned a corner. Unfortunately the stranger
remained in place. No longer looking around as though distracted,
he seemed to notice Travis’ truck. Probably not used to seeing a
vehicle in decent condition around these parts.

But when the man’s
expression changed, Travis took that as his cue to depart.
Get out of Dodge before the man was able to place
a face with the truck
. Throwing the gear
into reverse, Travis made a three-point circle in the middle of the
street and took off in the opposite direction. No sense giving the
guy any more detailed description than necessary. Too bad it came
at the price of losing Jeremiah. Glancing in his rearview mirror,
Travis was torn. Bothered. The man continued to stare after him.
Not good. If the guy told Jeremiah a black truck had been parked on
their street, a man inside watching them, it would be all Jeremiah
would need to come looking for him. Young brunette guy in a black
truck could lead him straight to Travis.

Or Troy. They shared looks
and they shared vehicle description. Slamming a palm to the
steering wheel, Travis cursed his mistake.
How could he have been so stupid
?

Chapter Eleven

Injecting as much enthusiasm into his
voice as possible, Cal asked, “How was the spa treatment, girls?”
He wanted nothing more than to focus on his wife and daughter and
their pleasure, but thoughts of Jeremiah and the robbery gnawed at
him. Cal knew they were connected. Sure as he was breathing, he
knew the two were not a coincidence.

“
Great!” Emily squealed,
waving fluttering fingertips for his perusal. “I got a facial, and
my nails done in sparkles.”

Sure enough, Cal mused, her nails
glittered pearlescent cream in the overhead lighting. “Those are
mighty pretty.”

Annie smiled. “Emily insisted her toes
match, so be careful if you think you’re losing your mind later at
home when you catch glimpse of a disco ball bouncing from her
feet.” She laughed, adding, “She had every toe done in a different
shade!”

“
Wonderful. It will remind
me of my old dancing days.”

“
Really?” Emily asked.
“You know how to dance? Can you teach me?”

Placing an arm around her shoulders,
Cal led Emily from the spa and winked. “I don’t think my moves
would be very popular with the ‘in’ crowd today. You might want to
watch some of those online videos instead.” Glancing at Annie over
Emily’s head, he remarked, “Or maybe we could find a dance class
around here?”

She nodded. “I’ll ask Candi. She’s
full of good ideas when it comes to what’s in.”

“
Sounds like a plan,” Cal
replied. Candi was Annie’s best friend and very hip. If anyone knew
it would be her. Now that she worked in the salon with Annie, she’d
be easy to consult with on the matter. “Are you gals
hungry?”

“
I am,” Emily answered
unequivocally.

Annie nodded. “I could use a bite to
eat.”

“
I’ve got a little more
work to do around here,” Cal lied, “but how about you two head on
over to Fran’s and I’ll catch up with you?”

Annie looked to Emily. “Best
cheeseburgers in town.”

Emily grinned. “Works for
me.”

Cal escorted Annie and Emily to the
truck and sent them on their way. Returning to the lobby, he picked
up a set of keys for one of the hotel vehicles and made his
departure. It was sort of a complimentary rental car program the
hotel offered for guests interested in taking a spontaneous trip to
town yet had no car of their own. While most folks didn’t need it,
they all appreciated the gesture. Now that Malcolm was back, he
could head out. “I’ll have the car back this afternoon,” Cal
said.

Malcolm Ward waved him off, his light
blue eyes warming within the tanned brown of his skin despite the
pressure Cal knew him to be under. “Take all the time you need,” he
replied. “You know we have two more for the taking.”

Cal nodded thanks, cupping his hand
closed over the keys. But that was Malcolm. Not only calm under
pressure, the man was personal, genuine. Similar to the gel that
kept his shock of white hair smoothed back in place for his
southern California hairstyle, Malcolm was the invisible glue that
held the business together. He was subtle yet effective. You
couldn’t miss Nick Harris coming from a mile away but not Malcolm.
He beat a softer path.

“
Let me know if you hear
anything from the police regarding the break-in.”

“
Will do,” Malcolm
replied.

Cal had his suspicions about who was
involved, despite Jeremiah’s alibi. The intent of his little
impromptu visit with Annie suddenly became clear, and one way or
another, Cal was going to prove Jeremiah’s involvement with the
robbery. Until then, he was employing a backup plan. If Jeremiah
had any more thoughts of confronting Annie, him—or God help him,
Emily—Cal was going to greet him with barrel of a gun.

Not a man of violence, Cal understood
some men only understood the threat of physical harm. They pushed
the boundaries until someone stopped them cold. Dead cold.
Hardening himself to the possibility, Cal knew he would shoot
Jeremiah if the situation warranted. If there was no other way to
get the point across to back off and leave his family alone, Cal
would shoot.

First on the agenda, collect his guns
from his parent’s home. Boxed up before he’d moved to Arizona, he
had yet to move the guns from the attic. His and Annie’s new home
had only recently been completed, and the guns had been not a high
priority when it came to moving in. Cal planned to transfer them
when he got around to it.

That day would be today.

Driving the half hour to Misty
Mountain Ranch, the Foster family estate, Cal contemplated a
confrontation with his mother. He hadn’t called to warn them of his
arrival. There was no need. He had a key. He’d let himself in.
Still, the thought of seeing his mother so close to the impending
trial chafed him. The insanity of her support for Jack made no
sense. Bringing Troy to trial, airing Jack’s dirty laundry would do
more harm to her reputation than good. Contrary to her continued
assertion that she and Jack were in the right, the Fosters had a
reputation to uphold, a community profile to manage, and this trial
would do nothing but soil it. Everything she claimed to defend
would be ruined.

It was lunacy. Sheer
lunacy.

But that was his family. Everyone had
their “crazy” in the gene pool, and apparently his mother was
revealing theirs. Years of impeccable dignity and aplomb would be
ripped and churned by the gossip mill, plastered all over the
papers. Victoria Foster would be mocked. She’d become the face of
pity. Families would shun her once they learned about Jack’s real
actions. The secrets from years of whispers would become shouts in
the streets. People had speculated about Jack’s and Delaney’s
divorce. Many had the details right. Jack Foster was an abuser. An
abusive alcoholic and he was the reason Delaney baled on their
marriage. Afterward people had flocked to Delaney and Felicity like
they were warm pie blowing through an open window. Women offered to
take Felicity while Delaney was busy working. Men and women alike
had made a point to give Delaney a start with her new accounting
business, his brothers leading the way, their wives included, and
word was spread.

As Cal turned onto the drive to his
childhood home and took in the acreage, he was flooded by
bittersweet memories. Wide open spaces called to the horseman in
him, the mountains in the distance beckoned his outdoorsman side.
Not only beautiful with its rolling hills of green, Misty Mountain
Ranch was known for quality horses sold by rock-solid members of
the local community. The Fosters were part of the town’s fabric.
They lived and breathed the country and people around them. From
the densely-packed earth beneath him to the starry skies that
blanketed his nights, Cal loved this land. He loved the ranch and
everything it stood for.

But once the facts about
Jack’s attack on Delaney spread, it would taint the entire Foster
family. Because his mother had chosen to involve herself. Because
she had chosen to take up for Jack, the business of Misty Mountain
Ranch would suffer. His brothers and their families would feel the
repercussions. Shoot,
he’d
feel it too. Cal didn’t kid himself. He was
knee-deep in the center of this mess and he and Annie would not
escape the talk.

Only Cal didn’t care. He would stand
up to the lot of them and face them with a clean conscience and a
pure heart. Troy had done nothing wrong. Delaney had done nothing
wrong. Together, they would stand strong against this assault of
lies.

Roaming the confines of the toasty
attic, the air suffused with heat and dank, Cal counted his
blessings. He’d avoided contact with his mother on the way in. She
was here but in her bedroom. Retired for a cat nap, Thelma had told
him.

Before
lunchtime
? Cal could only hope it was
simply a lack of sleep and not a prescription-induced slumber. His
mother had been known to partake in the past. She might do so again
considering the stress she was under. Pausing in the center of the
plywood-lined space, Cal searched for sight of his boxes. He was
certain he’d left them in the corner, but now, they weren’t there.
Glancing around, he examined boxes according to size. His guns were
packed in a pretty big box. The myriad stacked around him could not
belong to him. Taking a few steps, he ducked his head for a timber
frame and continued his search. There were pieces of furniture
arranged neatly in a line, accompanied by empty frames and a
miscellany of household items. A lot of this stuff should probably
see the inside of a thrift store, he mused, but it wasn’t his place
to toss out junk. Cal’s job was to find his belongings and move
them to his new home.

In the back, behind an old hutch, Cal
spotted his box. At least he thought so. Walking over, he squatted
behind the wooden crate and, sure enough, believed the box was his.
There were several lightweight boxes piled on top of it which he
carefully moved aside. As he brushed the dust from his box,
featherweight fumes of dirt particles billowed into his face and he
coughed. Reading the label, this was definitely his box. His gun
collection. Satisfaction unfurled, mixing with a swarm of
anticipation. Inside he would find not only an assortment of
shotguns, but pistols, ammunition...everything he needed to protect
his family from the likes of Jeremiah Ladd.

When he slid the box free from its
position, the bottom stuck, immovable as if it had been glued in
place. Too long in dormancy, he thought, giving the box a good
shove. Breaking free, the corner hit Cal’s knee. “Ouch!” Dropping
back, his hand landed on a slender wooden box.

It split open and the
contents spewed free. Cal swore as he stared at a bunch of letters
strewn about the floor. Rubbing the spot on his knee, he noticed
they were addressed to his father in handwritten script. Gathering
them, Cal re-organized the envelopes as he’d found them, the stiff
paper flaps catching on one another. Taking greater care, he peered
at the fronts, realizing they weren’t all addressed to Daddy. Some
were addressed to Susannah. Comprehension snapped his senses
together.
Susannah Ladd
?

A flush of adrenaline inflamed his
thoughts. His father had kept letters from his old flame? Cal
hurried to put the letters back in place, but curiosity pulled at
him to slow down. What did this mean? Why would Daddy keep these
after all these years?

Pausing, drawn to the handwriting
scrawled across the front, he realized there was no address. Only a
name. Susannah. Guilt swept over him. Odd. He’d done nothing wrong,
but the mere touch of the envelope filled him with guilt. Shame.
Like he was looking at something he shouldn’t. Unable to stop
himself, Cal opened a loosened flap and tugged the letter
free.

My Dearest
Girl
...

Cal held his breath as he
read.
Last night meant more to me than
anything in this world. Nothing can raise my spirits the way you
do. You fill me with ecstasy. Joy. You make me feel like the world
is my oyster, your heart is my soul. Dear Girl, do you know what
you do to me when you say those things? They are indelible in my
mind, seared in my heart like a hot iron brand to the hide. Your
love completes me. I am nothing without you. I will never be
anything
without you.
You are the light of Heaven, an angel of His. You are a gift, a
holy blessed gift and I am yours. Faithfully and forever I pray you
know I will always belong to you. Gerald.

Cal’s heart stopped beating—but, oh,
how his father’s must have beaten for Susannah! Holding the
delicate page in hand, Cal couldn’t breathe. The rumors were true.
His father and Susannah. Cal reached for another letter. He
couldn’t stop. Even if he wanted, he couldn’t stop from reading
on.