24 Karat Ammunition. Joanna Wayne

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24 Karat Ammunition - Joanna  Wayne


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That’s not something my mom would do.”

      “Who’s this camp supervisor you mentioned?”

      “Ms. Bulligia. I’m working as a junior counselor in a summer camp south of Dallas. That’s where we live—Dallas.”

      So Trish had moved back to Texas. He wondered when that had happened, not that it mattered. Their lives had gone different ways long ago—which made this all the more bizarre. “Is there a husband, other siblings?”

      “No. My father’s dead. There’s just Mom and me. She owns a boutique, not far from our house.”

      “What about a boyfriend?”

      “Me? Or Mom?”

      “Your mom. Is there someone she might have had a fight with?”

      “There’s no boyfriend, at least not lately. She’s off guys,’ cause they’re jerks. This one guy used to come into the boutique to buy gifts for his wife, but he started hitting on Mom and then showing up everywhere she went.”

      “What happened with him?”

      “She called the cops, and they scared him off.”

      So she did normally go to the cops, instead of telling her daughter not to call them. “When was that?”

      “A year ago.”

      “And she hasn’t been bothered by him since?”

      “I don’t think so.”

      Which didn’t necessarily mean the man had lost his fascination for Trish. She was not an easy person to forget. Langston could definitely vouch for that. They sat without talking, with only the whir of the ceiling fan and the occasional whinny of a horse in a nearby pasture to break the silence.

      “Think carefully, Gina. Did your mother say anything else when she called?”

      “Only that…” Gina’s voice broke completely and she hugged her arms around her chest. “She said that she loved me. That’s the last thing she said before she hung up.”

      “Who did you tell that you were coming here?”

      “No one.”

      “Not even a girlfriend?”

      “No. I was afraid they’d call the police and make this worse for my mom.” Gina shuddered. “I have to find her, but I don’t know where to look. I don’t know how to start.” A tear spilled from her right eye and started to roll down her cheek. She brushed it away with the back of her hand.

      Something tightened around Langston’s chest like a lasso. He walked over and put a hand on Gina’s shoulder. He was awkward at dealing with emotional females, always had been. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’ll find your mother, Gina. Count on it.”

      Gina jumped up from the rocker. “I’ll go with you to look for her.”

      “No, you stay here at the ranch. You’ll be safe and you’ll be available if Trish tries to contact you again. But you can help.”

      “How?”

      “Write down anything I should know. Home and boutique addresses. Names of employees at the boutique. Names and phone numbers of your mother’s friends—male and female. The name of the stalker from last year. Where she goes when she wants some quiet time away from home. Anyplace you think she might go to hide.”

      He pulled a pen and small black notebook from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and handed them to her. “And I need a current picture of your mother if you have one. If not, write me out a good description.”

      “I have a picture of the two of us and Selena that we took before I left for camp.”

      “Who’s Selena?”

      “She works at the boutique, but she’s also Mom’s best friend.”

      “Be sure I have her name, address and phone number as well.”

      “When will you leave?”

      “As soon as I can change into a pair of jeans and throw a few things together.”

      “I’ll have the information ready.” She looked up at him, eyes moist. “You must have been a very good friend for her to have sent me to you after all this time.”

      “Yeah, good friends.” And that was all Gina needed to know.

      He’d spent years trying not to think of Trish at all. He’d never fully succeeded. She’d always been there, skirting the back of his mind like a song that stayed in his head long after the music had stopped. Now the music was hitting crescendo again.

      But this was only about finding Trish and making sure she was safe. Old songs—like old feelings—couldn’t be trusted.

      THE PLANNED FAMILY MEETING had dissolved, but a new one waited for Langston when he reached the kitchen, this one between him and his three brothers, who were all having beers and killing time until they could start interrogating him.

      “What gives?” Matt asked.

      “Do you remember Trish Edwards?”

      “Yeah, I remember her.”

      “Gina is Trish’s daughter, though the name’s not Edwards now. It’s Cantrell.”

      “What’s her daughter doing here?”

      “She thinks her mother’s in some kind of trouble, that she may have been abducted.” Langston filled his brothers in on the little he knew.

      Zach straddled a straight-back chair. “So who is this mysterious Trish?”

      Matt planted a hand on Zach’s shoulder. “A woman who dumped your brother years ago.”

      “You’ve been dumped?” Zach asked. “Why have I missed out on this?”

      “I was still in college,” Langston said. “You were a mere snotty-nosed kid at the time.”

      “Exactly,” Matt said, his tone edgy. “Trish was a long time ago. You don’t owe her anything, and even if you did, this is police business. If there’s been an abduction, they’ll be able to handle it better than you.”

      “Like I said, Trish doesn’t want police involvement, but I’ll call them if it seems warranted.”

      “If you don’t want go to the police,” Bart said, “I know a great private detective in Houston. He does the legwork for Phil Caruthers and some of the other leading criminal defense lawyers in the city. There’s no one he can’t find.”

      “Write down his name and phone number for me,” Langston said. “I may need him before this is over.”

      “So what are you going to do?” Zach asked.

      “Drive to Dallas and see if I can figure out what’s going on.”

      “Why not fly up in the company Cessna?” Zach asked. “It would be a lot quicker.”

      “I’ll need the car when I get there, and there won’t be that much traffic this time of the night. I can make the drive in under four hours.”

      “I still say call the cops,” Matt said. “You don’t even know the woman anymore. She could be involved with drugs or wanted for something and on the run.”

      “She owns a boutique. That’s not your typical criminal profile.”

      “If I can’t talk sense into you, I’ll go with you,” Matt said. “Bart can handle the ranch a few days without me.”

      “And if I can’t, I have CEO Mother to tell me what to do.”

      Matt groaned. “That is not a joking matter.”

      “I’d rather go this alone at first,” Langston said. “I can


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