Dark Horse. B.J. Daniels
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have wanted Marianne’s babies to raise. She has her hands full with her own child. Talk about a spoiled brat.”
Nikki wondered what had brought the nanny back to the ranch after almost ten years. What if Patty Owens knew something about the kidnapping and Travers McGraw had married her to keep her quiet? But then why wait all those years?
“It certainly does make you wonder, huh,” Tess said as she reached for the hospital keys. But she hesitated before she opened the door. “Something horrible had to have happened that night to turn her hair white. Something so horrible she can’t speak.”
“Something other than having her babies kidnapped?” Nikki asked.
Tess shuddered. “I try not to think about it. But if she was in love with the horse trainer...” She leaned toward Nikki and said conspiratorially, “What if she killed the babies before she dropped them out the window?”
Nikki felt a chill race through her. That was something she’d never considered. From what she’d read about the case, it was believed that someone—Marianne, according to the prosecutor—had given the babies cough syrup containing codeine so they would be quiet. Maybe she’d given them too much.
Her head ached. She’d thought of little else but this case since she’d stumbled across the old newspaper clippings in her mother’s trunk and learned about her father, Nate Corwin—and the McGraw kidnapping.
At first she hadn’t understood why her mother would have kept the stories. That was until she recognized the man in the photograph. The photo of him had been taken on the day Nate Corwin was convicted.
“I always wondered why if you loved my father, you didn’t keep the Corwin name since you were legally married, right?” she’d asked her mother, and had seen horror cross her features.
“Why would you ask—” Her mother had never remarried but had gone back to her maiden name, St. James.
“You told me my father died.”
“He did die.”
“You just failed to mention he died on the way to prison for kidnapping and murder.”
“He didn’t do it. He swore he didn’t do it,” her mother had cried. She was convinced that her husband hadn’t been involved with Marianne McGraw nor had anything to do with the kidnapping, let alone the double murder of two innocent babies.
But someone had. And if not her father, then someone had let him be convicted and die for a crime he hadn’t committed.
Nikki was determined to get to the truth no matter what it took. She had just short of a week before the twenty-fifth anniversary of the kidnapping to get the real story. Travers desperately wanted her to do the book. It was the family she was worried about.
She’d been thinking about how to get close to at least one of the sons before she headed for Sundown Stallion Station and met the rest of the McGraws.
If there was one thing she believed it was that the people in that house had more information than they’d given the sheriff twenty-five years ago. They just might not realize the importance of what they’d seen or heard. Or they had their reasons for keeping it to themselves.
“So how did you get into writing crime books?” the nurse’s aide asked as if putting off going back down that long hallway by herself.
“It’s in my blood,” Nikki said. “My grandfather was a Pulitzer Prize–winning newspaper reporter. From as far back as I can remember, I wanted to be just like him.”
“He must be proud of you,” Tess said almost wistfully.
Nikki nodded distractedly. Proving herself to her grandfather was another reason she would do whatever it took to get the real kidnapping story—or die trying.
Cull McGraw put down the windows on his pickup as he drove into Whitehorse. It was one of the big sky days where the deep blue ran from horizon to horizon without a cloud. In the distance, snow still capped the top of the Little Rockies, and everywhere he looked he saw spring as the land began to turn green.
Days like this, Cull felt like he could breathe. Part of it was getting out of the house. He just felt lucky that he’d intercepted the newspaper before Frieda, the family cook, had delivered it on the way to the kitchen.
He didn’t need a calendar to know what time of the year it was. He had seen the approaching anniversary of the kidnapping in the pained look in his father’s eyes. He could feel it take over the main house as if draping it in a black funeral shroud.
Every year, he just rode it out. The day would pass. Nothing would happen. No one would come forward with information about the missing twins. Another year would pass. Another year of watching his father get his hopes up only to be crushed under the weight of disappointment.
What always made it worse was the age-progression photographs in the newspaper of what Oakley and Jesse Rose would look like now and his father’s plea for any information on them.
Ahead, he could see the outskirts of the small Western town. Cull sighed. He should have known there would be a big write-up in the paper, since this would be the twenty-fifth anniversary. He glanced over at the newspaper lying on the seat next to him. He’d read just enough to set him off. When would his father realize that the twins were gone and would never be coming back? Knowing Travers McGraw the way he did, Cull knew his father would hold out hope until his last dying breath.
But this year, the publisher of the paper had talked his younger brother Ledger into an interview. As he drove down the main drag, he spotted Ledger’s pickup right where he knew it would be—in front of the Whitehorse Café.
* * *
JUST AS NIKKI had done for the past few days, she watched Ledger McGraw enter the Whitehorse Café. He had arrived at the same time each morning, pulled up out front in a Sundown Stallion Station pickup and adjusted his Stetson before climbing out.
Across the street in the park, Nikki observed him from behind the latest weekly newspaper as he hesitated just inside the café door. She saw him looking around, and after watching him for three mornings, she knew exactly what he was looking for. Who he was looking for.
He tipped his hat to the young redheaded waitress, just as he had the past three mornings, before he took a seat at a booth in her section. He had been three when the twins were kidnapped, which now made him about twenty-eight. There was an innocence about him and an old-fashioned chivalrous politeness. She’d seen it in the way he wiped his boots on the mat just outside the café door. In the way he always removed his hat the moment he stepped in. In the way he waited to be offered a seat as if he had all day.
She’d keyed in on Ledger when she’d realized that no one else in the McGraw family had such a predictable routine. That wasn’t the only reason she’d chosen him. In the days she’d been in town watching him each morning, she had seen his trusting nature and hoped he would be the son she might get to help her.
Nikki didn’t kid herself that this was going to be easy. She’d heard from other journalists that the family hated reporters and all of them except Travers had refused to talk about the kidnapping. She desperately needed someone on that ranch who would be agreeable to help her. Ledger might be the one.
Nikki wished she had more time before making her move. But the clock was ticking. The twenty-fifth anniversary of the kidnapping was approaching rapidly. It still gave her a chill when she looked at the photographs she’d taken of Marianne McGraw. It hadn’t been her imagination. The woman had risen up from her chair, eyes wild, hands clenched around the “babies” in her arms.
If Nikki had had any doubt that the woman was still in that shell of a body, she no longer did. Now she had to find out if the rumors were true about Marianne and Nate Corwin.
From across the street, she