Trust. There was that word again. She thought back to what she'd told Ethan before they'd left Vegas. And again, without hesitation, realized she trusted McClain to watch her back. More and more it appeared that she was going to need him to.
And more and more it appeared that it was ghosts from her past, not goblins from her present, that were haunting her.
It was closing in on six o'clock when they drove up the lane to the Campbell ranch. Thunder rumbled in the background like a distant volley of mortar fire.
"Right out of
Bonanza
."
McClain said, taking in the rolling foothills and rusty mountain peaks in the background. Cattle had clustered together in anticipation of the building storm. Horses grazed placidly in tall grass on either side of the long lane leading to the large two-story ranch house that was flanked by several neat and well-kept outbuildings.
A late-model club cab sat in front of the closed doors of a double garage attached to the white house. The house looked like it might have been built in the eighties to resemble a turn-of-the-century ranch house—either that, or it was a well-preserved older house that had been renovated and added onto.
Flower beds flanked a redbrick sidewalk leading to a porch that ran the length of the front of the house. The porch floor appeared to be newly painted with gray enamel. An old-fashioned swing that could accommodate two, if they sat real close, hung by chains at the south end of the porch. At the other end a pair of antique rockers sat on either side of a small wicker table upon which a Boston fern thrived. On the front door a grapevine wreath with tiny rust-colored birdhouses, metal stars, and a swath of cornhusk ribbon twined through it welcomed visitors.
"Should have named it Peace and Tranquility Ranch," McClain commented as he remembered seeing a huge
Rocking C
formed out of forged steel suspended above the main driveway on their way in.
"Has all the appearances of a peaceful valley, all right," Eve agreed. "Let's hope we're not bringing armageddon down on top of them."
She almost swallowed her words when the front door swung open and a tall, tough-looking cowboy wielding a very big gun glared at them with steel in his eyes and not one ounce of peace or tranquility gracing his granite-hard face.
"Can I help you folks?" he asked, sounding like the only thing he wanted to help them with was finding their way out of Dodge.
"Jasper Campbell?" McClain asked, wary of the twelve-gauge shotgun that Eve knew could be loaded with anything from buckshot to deer slugs, either of which would shoot substantial holes in anything from trees to oh, say, them.
"State your business," the cowboy said. "And don't make the mistake of telling me you're here with a message from your father."
OK. So Jed had called ahead.
"Sorry about that," McClain said. "I needed to find your place and didn't figure the truth was going to get me the information."
"You still haven't told me your business, son."
As in
son of a bitch,
Eve figured, and stepped in to try to diffuse the animosity of the man with the gun.
"Mr. Campbell," she said, and found herself the target of those intense gray eyes. "My name is Eve Garrett. This is Tyler McClain. Mr. McClain and I are private security specialists and we're searching for a young woman who we believe is in the company of your son, Billie."
Campbell said nothing. Since he hadn't lifted the shotgun to his shoulder, though, Eve took it as a good sign that she could continue.
"The young woman's name is Tiffany Clayborne. And I can assure you, we mean her no harm. As a matter of fact, Tiffany is a friend of mine—although she's been a little miffed at me of late."
He still said nothing, neither confirming nor denying Tiffany's presence at the ranch.
"Mr. Campbell," Eve began again, "if Tiffany is here— and we're fairly certain that she is—we understand her reluctance to trust that we're here to help her. Tiffany," she said a little louder, on the off chance the shadow she saw slanting across the floor from behind the open door was her, "it's Eve. Honey, someone's after you. That same someone is also after me. We've got to get you out of here.
"Tiffany," she said again when Campbell's grip on the shotgun became a little less hostile, "call Katrina Hofsteader in New York. We know she slipped you her cell phone at Oracle. That's why we were able to track you this far. She's kept in touch with us, trying to help us find you before whoever is after you does. Please call her. She'll confirm that we have your best interest in mind. Sweetie, we just want to help you."
From behind the door, Eve could hear a woman's voice and then another male voice whispering softly.
"You folks just hold on, right here, OK?" Campbell said when someone behind the door got his attention.
Then he shut the door in their faces.
"Now what?" McClain whispered.
"Now we figure they're having a little come to Jesus meeting. Maybe placing a call to Kat. Let's sit," she suggested. "Present ourselves at our nonhostile best."
When she sat down on the top porch step with her back to the door, he grinned down at her. "Does the term
sitting duck
have any particular meaning to you?"
"He's not going to shoot us. And this will show him we have no reason not to trust him because he has no reason not to trust us."
"Do you ever get tired of being right?" McClain asked after he'd sat down beside her and stretched out his bad leg.
"Actually, I like being right." She couldn't stop herself from smiling at him. Couldn't help but melt a little bit when he smiled back.
"It really is like a movie set, isn't it?" she asked, shifting her attention to the surrounding mountains so she wouldn't have a total meltdown from the ready heat in his eyes. A jagged lightning bolt split the gray above a rugged peak of the range of mountains boxing in the valley where the Campbell ranch lay nestled like fruit in a bowl. Ozone was heavy and thick in the air.
"Let's just hope it doesn't turn into the gunfight at the OK Corral."
The door opened behind them then.
Together, they rose and turned. Campbell, sans shotgun, stood in the open door frame.
"Come on in. Let's see if we can get this business sorted out."
Eve drew a relieved breath. Beside her, she sensed McClain doing the same. On the heels of relief came guarded interest. After all this time, all this way, they were finally going to come face-to-face with the elusive Tiffany Clayborne.
Mac had expected a coked-out, strung-out wild child. Instead, Tiffany Clayborne appeared before them, a pale but fresh-faced and clear-eyed young woman who looked as innocent as her eighteen years—if you didn't count the hard-won wisdom shadowing her hazel eyes and the panic that sharpened her gaze like a laser.
"Tiffany," he said, extending his hand. "Tyler McClain. And I've got to say, I'm very glad to meet you. At last."
She nodded but was too wary to take his hand. Instead, she sidled a little closer to a boy who could only be Billie Campbell.
"You've led us on quite a chase," Eve said when Tiffany turned an angry glare her way.
"Why do you care?"
"I have always cared, Tiff."
Tiffany met Eve's statement with a stone-cold stare. They weren't going to be mending any fences today.
"OK, look. You talked to Kat, right?"
Tiffany nodded.
"And what did she tell you?"
"She just said I should trust you."
Eve nodded. "And you've had a few too many people let you down in the trust department, haven't you? Including me."
The tension in the foyer became so thick a hacksaw wouldn't have bitten through it.
"Let's go into the living room, shall we?" a pretty forty-something woman said with a welcome diplomacy. "I'm Miriam, by the way. I'm sure you've already figured out that this is my husband, Jas. And this is our son, Billie." She had to reach up to place a motherly hand on his shoulder.
It didn't stay there long, Mac noticed. Miriam Campbell moved quickly to Tiffany's side, placed a bracing arm around her waist. "Come on, honey. I think it's important that we hear what these folks have to say."
With the Campbells rallied around Tiffany like a garrison of troops guarding a peasant princess, Mac sat back and let Eve explain that Edwards, acting on Tiffany's father's behalf, had hired him to find her and that Eve was working with him because she'd been worried about her.
"I'm not going back there," Tiffany stated firmly.
"We're thinking that's a good call," Eve assured her.
While Tiffany's shoulders relaxed some, her combative gaze said she was still suspicious of their motives.
"Until this is all sorted out, we don't think it's a good idea for you to return to Florida."
When she still looked unconvinced, Eve glanced at Mac. He knew what she was wondering. Should she tell Tiffany about Reno and Gorman?
He nodded.
"There's something you need to know," Eve said, holding Tiffany's gaze. "Lance Reno—"
"Was going to kill me," Tiffany interrupted with defiance.
Eve blinked. "That doesn't surprise me, but that's not going to happen now." She waited a beat. "Tiffany ... Reno is dead."
Tiffany blinked, paled, then found her voice. "How? When?"
Tiffany's shock, Mac noted, was real, but he didn't detect any sorrow on her part. Neither were there hysterics. He was starting to like this girl. She was holding up.
"He was murdered. So was Abe Gorman. We found them in the hotel room where you were staying in Vegas two days ago ... about seven in the morning."
"Shit," Billie said, sounding shaken. "We must have just gotten out of there in time."
Silent until this point, Jasper Campbell leaned forward in his easy chair. "Why don't you folks just spell out the rest of what you know about what's going on here?"
Mac propped his elbows on spread knees, his hands clasped, and deferred to Eve.
"This all started several nights ago when I got a phone call from someone. They said they were you."
"I didn't call you."
"I've since figured that out. The bottom line, Tiffany, is someone wants me dead. Someone who knew to use you as bait because they knew I'd come after you. Someone who has been taunting me with warnings that if I didn't find you first, they'd kill you as well as me."
"Why? Why would anyone do that?"
"It's a long story," Mac cut in. "And we really don't have time to go into it right now. We're thinking that whoever hired Reno to kidnap you is the same person who's after Eve."
Tiffany glanced from Mac to Eve. "If that's true, why were Lance and Abe murdered?"
Mac looked toward Eve to supply the answer. "It's possible that Reno didn't keep up his end of the bargain.... Maybe he was supposed to take care of things a long time ago. Instead, he—"
"Played me for the money he could get out of me," Tiffany finished, and Mac couldn't help but feel sorry for her—until he noticed Billie's hand sneaking over and entwining with hers on the sofa. She seemed to have staunch allies in this young man and his family.
"I'm sorry," Eve said. "And I'm sorry we don't have time to give you more answers, but right now the best thing we can do is get you out of here before they catch up with us. Unfortunately, the Campbells are in danger until we can figure out who's behind this and why."
For the first time Tiffany showed emotion. A single tear leaked out as her mask of indifference cracked with vulnerability and pain.
"Whoever these people are, they're smart and their surveillance is sophisticated. They may be on our trail already."
Jas Campbell cut a glance toward the front window, excused himself, and rose to look outside. "You folks traveling alone?"
Mac looked at Eve, who, like him, had already risen to her feet and was rushing to the window.
A black SUV had pulled into the drive. It eased to a stop, and as if it had been choreographed, all four doors swung open and four people got out.
"Sonofabitch," Mac swore under his breath.
Three of the invaders were dressed in black—complete with black gloves, boots, and hoods over their heads. They were all brandishing AK-47s.