Larkspur Road Read online

  “Even my mom didn’t know. Gram never would tell her, not during all the years Winny was gone or after she came back.”

  Ellis patted Samson’s head. “Well, now, remember, some old things are like graves—best left undisturbed.” She nodded meaningfully. “You want to bring your aunt some supper, go right ahead. But don’t be surprised if she refuses to poke her head out the screen door. She didn’t say a decent word to Doc Grantham the whole time she was in the ER—didn’t do more than grunt and curse when he examined her foot. She’s a tough bird, that one.”

  But even a bird needs to eat, Mia thought.

  So half an hour later, after showering, pulling on her Wranglers, a pale blue tank top, and sandals, then twisting her blond hair into a loose knot atop her head, she headed for the kitchen. First she poured Samson’s kibble into a bowl and freshened his water, then she washed her hands and turned her attention to her fridge.

  It wasn’t as if she was going to any trouble. She had half of a roast chicken left from the previous night’s supper, so she merely wrapped it in tinfoil, then nuked a potato in the microwave while tossing together a quick salad of greens, carrots, peppers, and tomatoes.

  There. Done.

  So don’t start yelling at me from your grave, Gram, she thought as she stuffed everything into a wicker basket, grabbed a hoodie, and carried Winny’s supper out to her car. You may not have liked your sister, but you wouldn’t want her to starve to death out there on Sweetwater Road, would you?

  She had just slid into the Jeep when her cell phone rang.

  Samantha.

  “What’s up?” Mia asked, fastening her seat belt one-handed.

  “Mia, I’m scared. Really scared.” Mia went stock-still as she heard the quiver in her sister’s voice. “It’s Brittany. God, I don’t know what to do.”

  “Sam, take a breath. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Britt’s missing. I can’t find her anywhere!”

  Mia felt her heart slam hard inside her chest. “What do you mean missing?”

  “I’ve called every single one of her friends. No one knows where she is. Or else they’re just not telling me!” Sam’s voice rose in a crescendo of panic. “I could kill her right now. Alec and I are supposed to leave tomorrow for our honeymoon and she’s…gone. Or hiding. Or something. Laura claims she doesn’t know where Britt is, but…”

  Her sister’s voice broke, and Mia heard hard, gut-wrenching sobs.

  “Give it a minute, honey, take a deep breath.” Her mind was racing as she tried to think. Laura Walker. Britt’s best friend. If anyone knew where she was, it would be Laura.

  “Start from the beginning, Sam. Tell me the last time you saw her.”

  “Last night. We had a fight. She was being rude to Alec and I told her to knock it off. She flew out the door, yelling that she was spending the night at Laura’s. But she didn’t come home this morning—and she’s not answering her cell. So I called Laura and she claimed she didn’t know where Britt was. She swore that Britt did sleep over, but she was upset and woke up around five this morning and just left.”

  Sam sucked in a deep, shuddery breath. “No one’s seen her, Mia. I’ve called all her friends—and her father. He hasn’t heard from her either. I even called Wade, the boyfriend du jour, even though he and Britt broke up a month ago, but he had no clue. No one’s seen her!”

  Not good, Mia thought, fighting back her own rising panic. Think, she ordered herself, struggling to come up with a logical explanation.

  “She might be cooling off somewhere, still pissed about the fight you two had. Try to stay calm, Sam.”

  But her heart clenched with the beginnings of real fear. She needed to stay cool, think clearly. Samantha had been a drama queen all her life—every issue was life-and-death, joy or despair. Mia, the little sister, had always been the cool, practical one, the one with her head screwed on tight, her feet on the ground. But at this moment, she felt on the verge of sheer terror.

  Britt was a good kid, an A student, responsible. Sure, she was high-spirited and boy-crazy, but she wasn’t the type to run away or give Sam cause for worry.

  Fighting down the fear twisting through her, Mia spoke quickly. “She’s probably grabbing breakfast somewhere—or just sitting with a coffee, pulling herself together. You said she wasn’t happy about staying at her dad’s while you’re in Corfu.”

  “No, but she’s not happy about much of anything these days. She’s been so moody lately, snapping at Alec when he’s been wonderful to her. Fighting with me over every little thing—”

  “All mothers and daughters fight, Sam—,” Mia began, but her sister cut her off.

  “How would you know? You think it’s easy living with a sixteen-year-old? Mia, you know nothing about what it’s like—you don’t even have any children of your own and at the rate you’re going you—oh!” Samantha’s voice cracked. “Crap, crap, crap. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that—I’m taking this out on you and it’s not your fault!”

  For a moment Mia couldn’t speak. Her throat was too tight. Her sister’s words hurt. Probably because they were true. She seemed to have a knack for getting involved in dead-end relationships. And the way things were going, that didn’t seem likely to change anytime soon.

  She was thirty-one, living in a small town with a limited population of men, and chances weren’t great that she was going to meet her prince at the Toss and Tumble Laundromat or the Lucky Punch Saloon. True, her life was full, between her friends, her teaching, and her quilting, but it wasn’t as full as she’d once thought—and hoped—it would be.

  It wasn’t full of love. And a man she could count on.

  It wasn’t full of children and laughter and a family gathered around a table—like a Norman Rockwell painting, she thought with a stab of pain that sliced deep into her heart. She drew a long breath, swallowing past the lump in her throat.

  “It’s okay, Sam. I know you’re upset.”

  But the truth was, her sister was right.

  She had to face the fact that after one disastrous marriage and one broken engagement, her prospects of actually finding a man in Lonesome Way she wanted to marry and stay married to—and to have a houseful of kids with—seemed to be dwindling like winter kindling.

  Her two best friends, Lissie and Sophie, both had great marriages and adorable children—Lissie an exquisite moppet named Molly and Sophie a little son, Aiden, who was a miniature spitting image of Sophie’s gorgeous husband, Rafe Tanner.

  And in another life, if Mia and Rafe’s brother Travis had gotten married as they’d dreamed way back in high school, they might have their own little boy now, too—one who was every bit as handsome as Travis. The thought gave her a sudden deep pang, which she quickly shook off, annoyed with herself.

  After all this time, Travis Tanner should have no power to upset her. None.

  Her infatuation with Rafe’s strapping younger brother had ended too many freaking years ago. High school. She’d been an idiot back then, a stupid, naïve teenager who’d believed Travis when he whispered that he loved her, that he would always love her.

  Maybe he’d believed it himself. Right up until the moment when he dumped her like a sack of mealy potatoes.

  She’d obviously been the only one to give her heart away. And Travis hadn’t hesitated to toss it back to her in bloody little pieces.

  She’d been sixteen then. The same age Brittany was now. And she’d been full of silly, romantic dreams, believing she and Travis would be together forever—one of those blissfully happy married couples who adore each other through the decades and are surrounded by scads of children and grandchildren.

  Well, she reminded herself as she listened to Sam apologize yet again, it wasn’t as if her track record with men was any worse than that of the other women in her family.

  “Listen, Sam, you need to hang tight right now.” She kept her tone upbeat, despite the worry gripping her. “I’m sure Britt will come home soon. And if she doesn’t�
��”

  She broke off suddenly as a red convertible streaked around the corner two blocks ahead and roared down Larkspur Road.

  “Sam, wait a minute.” She interrupted her sister’s breathless worried chatter. “Hold on. I think…”

  The convertible barreled closer, straight toward her.

  Britt drove a red convertible. A Mustang. Steve Duncan, her father, had bought it for her on her sixteenth birthday.

  Mia’s gaze was glued to the flashy little car and her breath caught in her throat. “Sam, wait. Listen to me—”

  The car squealed to a halt at the curb not ten feet from Mia’s Jeep. The skinny sixteen-year-old driver with dirty blond hair, wearing sleep pants and a T-shirt beneath a purple hoodie, tumbled out from behind the wheel.

  “Samantha, she’s all right,” Mia gasped. “Brittany’s all right. She’s here.”

  Her sister erupted into relieved weeping so loud Mia had to hold the phone away from her ear.

  “She looks fine. Don’t worry. Give me a few minutes with her, honey, and I’ll call you right back.”

  Tossing her cell onto the seat before Sam could answer, Mia sprang out of the Jeep.

  “Aunt M-Mia.” Leaning wearily against the convertible, her niece stared at her through tear-filled, sea blue eyes. “Please don’t try to make me go back. Because I w-won’t.”

  Britt might have her father’s eyes, but the mutinous expression on her face reminded Mia strongly of the way Sam had looked countless times after their mother had grounded her.

  “I won’t stay with my dad while Mom goes on her honeymoon. And she can’t make me. I’m not going back to Butte for the rest of the summer. You have to let me stay with you!”

  Chapter Three

  Twenty minutes later, Mia watched Brittany swallow the last buttery bite of one of Sophie’s famous cinnamon buns.

  “I can’t make any promises,” she said as the girl stared at her with pleading eyes. “Your mom gets to decide where you stay.”

  They were sitting at the table in Mia’s small, comfortable kitchen. Wide windows framed by delicate white lace curtains opened onto the quiet, tree-lined street. Brittany’s sandals were on the floor, upside down under the table, her bare feet curled beneath her. Samson lay snuggled on her lap on the pretty peach-cushioned chair.

  Sitting at the opposite end of the table, Mia thought back to the little girl who’d dragged a lavender blanket everywhere she went, until the blanket had faded to a dull shade of gray by the time she entered first grade. That little girl had endlessly drawn pictures of rainbows and castles and had loved the Sleeping Beauty storybook Mia had given her for her birthday more than any other book—until she discovered The Black Stallion and Little Women, and then Harry Potter and Twilight had come along.

  What had happened to that child? The young woman at her table had grown into a subdued young beauty—her long tawny blond curls tumbling down her back, shadows under her eyes the same color as the blanket she’d once carried everywhere.

  “I hate going to my dad’s house,” she said miserably.

  “Since when? I thought you were crazy about your new little stepbrother.”

  “Tate’s…a brat.” Brittany looked away as she said the words, and somehow Mia didn’t believe them. “You should see how Gwen and my dad cater to him. He gets everything he wants. It’s…lame there. I don’t want to stay in that house for three days, much less three weeks.”

  “But all of your friends are in Butte,” Mia pointed out. “Don’t you—”

  “I’m sick of Butte. I’m sick of everyone. I just want a break.”

  Tears filled the girl’s eyes. And that was the most alarming thing of all. Britt didn’t cry easily. She was an athlete—a soccer player and track star—and she had tons of friends, both boys and girls.

  Why does she want to get away from everyone?

  “Did you argue with one of your friends? With Laura?” Mia chose her words carefully. “Are you upset about breaking up with that guy you were dating—what was his name… Wade?”

  Britt’s mouth opened, closed. She swallowed. And shook her head.

  “I just want to be here. With you.” Her voice was so low Mia could barely catch the words. Rubbing her eyes, she looked exactly as she had when she was a little girl, exhausted and ready for a nap. “Why does everyone need to make a federal case out of it?” she burst out suddenly. “I’ll get a job for the summer. Pay my own way. So what’s the big deal?”

  This is going nowhere, Mia thought. Whatever was up with Britt, it might be better to discuss it after she’d had a few hours of sleep.

  “You look wiped, honey.”

  “I woke up really early today.”

  Five o’clock in the morning, according to Laura.

  Mia pushed to her feet, held out a hand. “Come on then. You can take a nap in the guest room. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

  Leading the way down the hall, she glanced back over her shoulder to see Samson trotting after them. “But you’ll need to talk to your mom when you wake up,” she warned.

  “Can’t you talk to her for me?” Brittany stumbled toward the double bed with its white wrought-iron headboard and wasted no time in pitching herself facedown on the rose and blue quilt. “If you tell Mom it’s okay with you, she’ll let me stay. She always listens to you.”

  Mia refrained from pointing out that nothing could be further from the truth. She and Samantha definitely had their differences, though they were nowhere near as drastic as whatever sisterly drama had forever separated Gram and Aunt Winny all those years ago. She and Sam loved each other and despite their widely differing temperaments—and Sam being eight years older—they’d always been close.

  “I should scold you, I suppose.” When Britt eyed her warily, she grinned and carefully smoothed the girl’s tangled hair back from her face. “But I won’t. Not right now.”

  Something in her niece’s eyes pierced her heart. Brittany wasn’t just being moody. She was truly upset.

  What if there’s more to this? she thought uneasily. And what could it be?

  “Don’t worry, I’ll tell your mom that you’re welcome to stay. But you need to talk to her, too. And accept whatever she decides.”

  “Sure. As long as she doesn’t make me go back.” Britt’s eyes were already closing as she burrowed her face into the pillow.

  She looked so exhausted. And so unhappy. Not at all like her usual buoyant self.

  Drawing the curtains against the sunlight, Mia tiptoed out of the room, leaving her niece in semidarkness, with Samson’s small furry body pressed against her side.

  This has to be more than mere stress because her mother’s just gotten married for the third time and going on an extended honeymoon. And because her dad has a new wife and son.

  But…what?

  Slipping out the front door, she headed back to the Jeep. The day was warming now, the sun glowing in the sapphire Montana sky. She stripped off her hoodie and tossed it in the backseat. With just her tank top and jeans, the sun felt good on her bare shoulders. She climbed behind the wheel and began automatically organizing her priorities.

  First things first. Winny. Then home to play peacemaker with Samantha and Britt.

  Lucky me, she thought ruefully, starting the engine. A fun-filled day of Quinn women family drama. Not.

  Chapter Four

  Though the smells of fresh coffee, fried eggs, sausage, and warm banana bread wafted through the Sage Ranch kitchen, Travis scarcely noticed. He barely even noticed the frantic activity outside as his brother’s two rescued dogs, the gangly black mutt Starbucks and the little brown and black Tidbit, with his stubby tail, chased each other around the perimeter of the house—until they sounded a frantic joint alarm after spotting a squirrel impinging on their territory.

  “Hey, quiet, guys,” he ordered through the open window, halting the racket as the squirrel made its escape into the woods, and one of the horses whickered from the corral. Both dogs turned
to gape at him, tails wagging.

  Ah, home on the range. Where the dogs and the horses play.

  Travis resumed rinsing his plate in the sink, then set it inside the dishwasher, hoping the two mutts hadn’t wakened Grady, still asleep upstairs as of fifteen minutes ago when he’d last checked.

  The boy was as worn out as a stub from that two-day drive. And who knew, maybe from all the tension in his life—and, if Travis knew Val—from all the yelling. The kid had been through a lot in the past forty-eight hours—uprooted from his home, transported hundreds of miles to a place he scarcely remembered, plopped down amid family he barely knew.

  My fault, Travis thought as his older brother ambled into the kitchen. I should have been there for him, kept him attached, connected to the ranch, to the family. But I was too busy with the FBI, chasing bad guys and trying to keep our undercover alive—while letting my kid’s life go all to hell.

  He had a brief image of Nichols, the grungy undercover agent he and Joe had been monitoring for months. Nichols had infiltrated one of the largest human smuggling rings in the country, working hand in glove with soulless thugs who traded in human misery. They’d been trying to keep Nichols safe and alive as he stockpiled a landslide of evidence. Ironic that at the end of it all, it was Joe, tough, gritty Joe, Travis’s grizzled veteran partner, who’d ended up dead in the blink of an eye.

  “I wouldn’t give a plug nickel for your thoughts right now,” Rafe commented drily, pouring himself a cup of coffee and automatically refilling Travis’s cup. “Looks like you woke up on the dark side of the planet.”

  “Guess you could say that. The planet of hard truths.”

  Rafe’s brows rose. “Such as?”

  “I let Grady down. Big-time. I should have been paying more attention, visiting the kid a hell of a lot more and making sure he spent some time with me in Arizona. And here on the ranch.” Travis grimaced. “I’m legally his dad—and maybe if I hadn’t been so wrapped up in trying to bust that damned smuggling ring these past months, I’d have noticed that my own boy was in trouble.”