Yesterday's Lies (17 page)

“Do I look like a short order cook?” she asked testily. “Didn’t I ask you if you’d be back for lunch this morning before you left?”

“Please?”

Keith could be so damned charming when he chose to be, Tory thought defensively. She managed a stiff smile. “Okay, brother dear, I’ll see what I can scrape together, but I’m not promising gourmet.”

“At this point I’d be thrilled with peanut butter and jelly,” Keith admitted as he sauntered out of the kitchen and up the steps. In a few minutes, Tory could hear the sounds of running water in the shower upstairs.

By the time that Keith returned to the kitchen, some twenty minutes later, he’d showered, shaved and changed into clean clothes.

“I hardly recognized you,” Tory said teasingly. She placed a platter of ham sandwiches next to a glass of milk on the table. It was then she saw the mail. Quickly pushing aside the magazines and catalog offers, she picked up the stack of envelopes and began to thumb through them.

“Bills, bills and more...what’s this?” Tory stopped at the fifth envelope. The small white packet was addressed to her in handwriting she didn’t recognize. There was no return address on the envelope but the letter was postmarked in Sinclair. Without much thought, she tore open the envelope. A single piece of paper was enclosed. On it, in the same unfamiliar handwriting that graced the envelope was a simple message:

STAY AWAY FROM MCFADDEN

“Oh, dear God!” Tory whispered, letting the thin white paper fall from her hands onto the table.

“What?” Keith set down his sandwich and grabbed the letter before staring at the threat in disbelief. As the message began to sink in, his anger ignited and his face became flushed. He tossed the letter onto the table. “That does it, Tory, I’m not going to listen to any more of your excuses. When McFadden gets back here you tell him that you’re out of this investigation of his!”

“I think it’s too late for that.” She was shaken but some of her color had returned.

“The hell it is! Damn it, Tory. He was beaten. Neva’s been getting threatening phone calls. You were shot at, for crying out loud! Shot at with a rifle! What does it take to get it through your thick head that whoever is behind this—” he pointed emphatically at the letter “—is playing for keeps!”

“We can’t back out, the police are involved and the whole town knows what’s happening.”

“Who gives a rip? We’re talking about our lives, for God’s sake!” His fist curled angrily and the muscles of his forearms flexed with rage. “All of this has got to stop!” Pounding the table and making the dishes rattle, Keith pushed his chair backward and stood beside the door. Leaning heavily against the frame he turned pleading gray eyes on his sister. “You can make him stop, y’know. You’re the only one he’ll listen to.”

“Not when he’s set his mind to something.”

“Then unset it, Tory!” He turned his palms upward and shook his hands. “What does it take to get through to you?”

Tory looked down at the note lying face up on the table and she trembled. For a moment she considered Keith’s suggestion, but slowly her fear gave way to anger. “I won’t be threatened,” she said, “or compromised. Whoever sent this must have a lot to lose. I wonder what it is?”

“Well, I don’t!” Keith nervously pushed his hair away from his face. “I wish this whole nightmare would just end.”

“But it won’t. Not unless we find the truth,” she said.

“Oh, God, Tory, you’re such a dreamer. You always have been. That’s how McFadden tricked you the first time and now you’ve let him do it to you again. You’re so caught up in your romantic fantasies about him that you don’t see the truth when it hits you in the face!”

Tory leaned against the refrigerator. “Then maybe you’ll be so kind as to spell it out for me.”

“He’s using you, Tory. All over again. I just never thought you’d be dumb enough to fall for it!”

With his final angry words tossed over his shoulder, Keith stalked out of the room leaving Tory feeling numb. Within a few moments, she heard the sound of the pickup as it roared down the lane before squealing around the corner to the open highway.

For the rest of the afternoon, Tory waited for Trask to return as he had promised. She tried to make herself busy around the house, her anxiety increasing with each hour that passed without word from him. As the day darkened with the coming of night, Tory began to worry. What, if anything, had he found out from Linn Benton and George Henderson?

Both men had to hate him. Trask’s testimony had sealed their fate and sent them both to prison. What if they were somehow involved in his beating and the threatening calls to Neva?

When the phone rang at ten o’clock, Tory felt relief wash over her. It had to be Trask.

She answered the telephone breathlessly. “Hello?”

“Tory? It’s Neva.” Tory’s heart fell through the floor. “I was wondering—actually hoping—that you’d heard from Trask.” All of Tory’s fears began to crystallize.

“I haven’t seen him since this morning,” she admitted.

“I see.” There was a stilted silence. “Do you know if he went to Salem?”

“That’s where he was headed when he left here.”

“Damn.” Neva waited a second before continuing.

“Maybe he went to the cabin,” Tory suggested hopefully, though she already guessed the answer.

“I was already there, about an hour ago. His Blazer’s gone and no one answered the door. I have a key and let myself in. I’m sure he hasn’t been there since early this morning.”

Tory’s heart began to pound with worry. “And I assume that he hasn’t called you?”

“No.”

“Have you called the sheriff?”

“Not yet.”

“What about the investigator, John what’s-his-name?”

“Davis,” Neva supplied. “He knows I’m worried. He’s already contacted a couple of his men.”

Tory slid into a nearby chair and felt the deadweight of fear slumping her shoulders. “So what do we do now?”

“Nothing to do but wait,” Neva replied. “You’ll call if you hear from him?”

“Of course.” Tory hung up the phone and a dark feeling of dread seemed to seep in through the windows and settle in her heart. Where was Trask? The question began to haunt her.

Dear God, please let him be all right!

CHAPTER TEN

T
HE
ROAD
FROM
the Willamette Valley was narrow. It twisted upward through the Cascades like some great writhing serpent intent on following the natural chasm made by the Santiam River. With sheer rock on one side of the road and the deep ravine ending with rushing white water on the other, the two lane highway cut across the mountains from the Willamette Valley to central Oregon.

At two in the morning, with only the beams from the headlights of the jeep to guide him, Trask was at the wheel of his Blazer heading east. And he was dead-tired. He had spent all of the morning and most of the afternoon at the penitentiary asking questions and getting only vague answers from the low-lifes Henderson and Benton.

Trask’s hands tightened over the steering wheel as he thought about the ex-judge’s fleshy round face. Even stripped of his judicial robes and garbed in state-issued prison clothes, Linn Benton exuded a smug untouchable air that got under Trask’s skin.

Linn Benton had been openly sarcastic and when Trask had asked him about another person being involved in the horse swindle, the judge-turned-inmate had actually had the audacity to laugh outright. Trask’s slightly battered condition and obvious concern about what had happened five years past seemed to be a source of amusement to the ex-judge. Trask had gotten nowhere with the man, but was more convinced than ever that somehow Linn Benton was pulling the strings from inside the thick penitentiary walls. But who was the puppet on the outside?

George Henderson had been easier to question. The ex-vet had been shaking in his boots at the thought of being questioned by a man whose brother he had helped kill. But whether Henderson’s obvious anxiety had been because of Trask’s stature as a senator, or because of previous threats he may have received from his prison mate, Linn Benton, Trask couldn’t determine.

With an oath, Trask downshifted and the Blazer climbed upward toward Santiam Pass.

All in all, the trip hadn’t been a complete waste of time, Trask attempted to console himself. For the first time he was certain that Linn Benton was still hiding something. And it had to be something that he didn’t expect Trask to uncover, or the rotund prisoner wouldn’t have smirked so openly at his adversary. It was as if Benton were privy to some private irony; an irony Trask couldn’t begin to fathom.

“But I will.” Trask squinted into the darkness and made a silent vow to get even with the men who had killed his brother. If another person was involved in Jason’s death, Trask was determined to find out about it and see to it that the person responsible would pay.

For over six hours, Trask had been in the Multnomah County Library in Portland. He had searched out and microfilmed copies of all of the newspaper clippings about the horse swindle and Jason’s murder, hoping to find something, anything that would give him a hint of what was happening and who was behind the series of events starting with the anonymous letter. If only the person who had written the letter would show his face...tell his side of the story...let the truth be known once and for all...then justice could be served and Trask could put the past behind and concentrate on a future with Tory.

* * *

T
HE
NIGHT
SEEMED
to have no end. Tory heard Keith come in sometime after midnight. She tossed and turned restlessly on the bed, alternately looking at the clock and staring out the window into the dark night sky.
What could have happened to Trask?
she wondered for what had to be the thousandth time.
Where was he? Why hadn’t he called?

She finally slept although fitfully and when the first streaks of dawn began to lighten the room, Tory was relieved to have an excuse to get out of bed and start the morning chores. If she had had to spend another hour in bed staring at the clock, she would have gone out of her mind with worry about Trask.

She had changed, showered and started breakfast before she heard Keith moving around in his room upstairs.

Coffee was perking and the apple muffins were already out of the oven when Keith sauntered into the kitchen. She turned to face her brother and he lifted his hands into the air as if to ward off a blow. “Truce, Sis?” he asked, grinning somewhat sheepishly.

The corners of Tory’s lips curved upward and her round eyes sparkled with affection for her brother. “You know I don’t hold a grudge. Well, at least not against you.”

“Or Trask McFadden,” he pointed out, walking to the stove and pouring them each a cup of coffee.

“I think five years was enough,” Tory said.

“For sending Dad to prison where he died? Give me a break!” He offered her a mug of steaming coffee, which she accepted, but she felt her smile disintegrate.

Tory set the basket of muffins on the table and tried to ignore Keith’s open hostility toward Trask. “Did you say something about a truce?”

“A truce between you and me. Not with McFadden!” Keith frowned, sat down in his regular chair and reached for a muffin. “By the way, where is he this morning?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, biting nervously at her lower lip and trying to hide the fact that she was worried sick about him. She glanced nervously at the clock. It was nearly seven.

“Did he visit Benton and Henderson yesterday?” Keith had his knife poised over the butter, but his eyes never left his sister’s anxious face. It was evident from the circles under her eyes and the lines near the corners of her mouth that she hadn’t been able to sleep.

“I don’t know that either. No one’s seen or heard from him since he left here yesterday morning.”

Keith set the knife aside. “So you’re worried about him, right?”

“A little.”

“He can handle himself.”

“I wish I could believe that,” Tory said.

“But you can’t? Why not?”

“Think about it,” Tory said with a sigh. “His brother was murdered for what he knew, Trask was beaten up the night before last and someone shot at him on Devil’s Ridge.” Her voice trembled slightly and she took a long swallow of coffee. “I think I have a reason to be worried.” She glanced nervously out the window before taking a seat at the table. “If I don’t hear from him this morning, I’m calling Paul Barnett.”

“Maybe Trask’s with Neva,” Keith said as gently as he could.

Tory felt the sting of Keith’s remark and she paled slightly. “He wasn’t with Neva,” she whispered. “Neva called here last night. She’s worried, too.”

“Look, Tory,” Keith cajoled. “A United States senator doesn’t just vanish off the face of the earth. He’ll be back flashing that politician’s smile of his. The man’s a survivor, for crying out loud.”

Tory didn’t answer. She swirled the coffee in her mug and silently prayed that this time Keith was right.

The sound of Rex’s pickup caught her attention. Still wrapped in her own worried thoughts, Tory poured the foreman a cup of coffee without really thinking about it. By the time that Rex came in through the back door, she had already added a teaspoon of sugar to the cup.

“’Mornin’,” Rex greeted, noting the lines of worry disturbing the smooth skin of Tory’s brow.

“How about some breakfast?” Tory asked.

Rex eyed the muffins and the sliced fruit on the table. “Looks good, but no thanks.” He patted his flat abdomen. “Already ate with Belinda.” He paused for a moment and shook his head. “I just wanted to let you know that I fixed the combine late yesterday afternoon and that I’m planning to cut the yearling calves from the herd today. There’s a rancher who lives in Sisters and he’s interested in about thirty head. He’ll be here around eleven.” Rex pushed the brim of his hat farther up on his forehead as he accepted the cup of coffee Tory offered. He warmed his gnarled fingers around the ceramic mug. “He might want to look at the horses, too.”

Tory managed a smile. “Good. You can show him the mares and the foals as well as the yearlings.”

Keith didn’t bother to hide his surprise. He frowned, causing a deep groove in his forehead between his eyebrows. “You plan on selling some of the mares?”

“Maybe. If the price is right.”

Her brother leaned back in his chair and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Because you know that once this scandal hits the papers no one, even if his life depends on it, will buy a Quarter Horse from the Lazy W.”

“That’s exaggerating a little, I think. But the note from the bank is due soon and we’ll need all the cash we can get.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“I’ll try not.”

“Okay,” Rex said, noticing the simmering hostility between brother and sister. “I’ll show the man from Sisters around, see if I can get him interested in any of the horses.”

“I thought you wanted to keep the mares another year at least and wait until the foals were born,” Keith persisted.

Tory pursed her lips and shook her head. “I think we’d better go with the bird in the hand theory.” She leveled her concerned eyes at Rex. “If the buyer wants any of the mares, they’re for sale.”

“What about stallions?” Rex asked.

Tory clenched her teeth. “They’re for sale, too. For the right price.”

“Even Governor?” Rex asked.

“All of them,” Tory whispered.

“Tory, I can’t let you do this—” Keith began to interrupt and looked as if he wanted to say more, but Tory cut him off.

“I don’t think we’ve got a choice. I have a meeting with the bank scheduled for the end of next week, and for once I’d like to show that the Lazy W has a positive cash flow. You were right when you first told me we’d have to sell—it just took a while for it to sink in. Selling some of the cattle and a few horses might get us out of the red for the month of June. Even if it’s only one month, it would say a lot and help me convince the loan officer to lend us more operating capital.”

“Hmph! How was I to know you’d listen to me for once?” Keith replied. Then, not having an argument against her logic, but worried just the same, Keith set down his empty coffee cup, got up from the table and explained that he would be working with some of the men who were cutting hay.

Rex and Keith walked out of the house together. Tory was left alone with the dirty dishes as well as her worries about what may have happened to Trask.

* * *

T
WO
HOURS
LATER
,
as she was finishing feeding the horses and wondering which, if any of the stock, would sell to the buyer from Sisters, she heard the sound of Trask’s Blazer rumbling down the drive. Her heart seemed to leap inside her. She looked out the dusty window of the stables to confirm what her ears had told her and a smile grew from one side of her face to the other as she watched Trask’s vehicle stop near the house. He got out of the Blazer and stretched, lifting his hands over his head, and making his flat abdomen appear almost concave with the unconscious, but erotic movement. He was dressed in worn cords and a shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The sight of him brought tears of relief to Tory’s eyes.

He started for the house, but she pounded on the window of the stables. Trask turned, squinted against the sun and his wonderful slightly crooked smile stole over his jaw when he noticed her. That was all the encouragement she needed. Without caring that they might be seen, Tory ran out of the stables and straight into his arms. He held her so tightly that her feet were pulled from the ground as he spun her around.

Bending his head, Trask kissed her passionately, sending warm bursts to every point in her body.

“What happened to you?” she asked breathlessly, once the lingering kiss was over. His arms were still around her, locking her body next to his, pressing her curves against the hard muscles of his thighs and torso. “I was worried to death!”

“I should have called,” he admitted, kissing her forehead and letting the faint scent of lilacs from her hair fill his nostrils. All of the frustrations that had knotted the muscles in the back of his neck since visiting the penitentiary seemed to melt away just at the sight of Tory’s enigmatic smile and the feel of her warm body pressed eagerly to his.

“At the very least you should have called! You had Neva and me out of our minds with worry.”

“Neva, too, huh?” he asked with a frown.

“What did you expect would happen when you disappeared?”

“I had no idea I was so popular,” he said with a smile and she laughed, her hands still clutching his shoulders. Through the light cotton fabric of his shirt, she could feel the corded strength of his muscles tightening around her as he kissed her once again before lifting his head. His blue eyes smoldered with aroused passion.

“Why didn’t you come back last night?” she managed to ask, though her thoughts were centered on the feel of his body pressed tightly against her.

“It didn’t cross my mind that it would take all day and half the night to finish what I’d set out to do. I didn’t get back to the cabin until two-thirty and even if I had a phone there, I wouldn’t have called. I thought you’d already be in bed.” That thought brought a seductive curve to his lips.

“I was!” she retorted trying to sound angry and failing. She lovingly traced the rugged set of his jaw with a finger. “I was in bed tossing and turning and wondering what horrible fate had come to you.” Unconsciously she touched the cut on his chin. “You don’t have a great track record for keeping yourself safe, you know. I stared at the ceiling and the clock all night long.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, refusing to release her and grinning broadly. His blue eyes twinkled with the morning light and he kissed her finger when it strayed near his mouth. Her breath caught in her throat at the feel of his tongue on her fingertip. “You paint a very suggestive picture, y’know,” he whispered hoarsely. “I would have done just about anything to be with you last night.” Familiarly his hands slid up her back, drawing her still closer to him, letting her feel the need rising within him. Instantly her body began to react and as his head dipped again, she parted her lips, anxious for the taste of him. How right it felt to be held in his arms with the warmth of the morning sun at her back.