By Request Collection April-June 2016. Оливия Гейтс
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and switched to Google, where he’d set up dozens of alerts a year ago, having no faith whatsoever that he’d ever hit pay dirt. He’d gotten hundreds of hits because there wasn’t anything all that unique about the chosen keywords, but he never skipped a one. This particular alert was for the name Ann, even though the object of his search had been born Leanna Warner. The other keywords were horses and fundraising.
Tucker wasn’t even sure why he’d bothered, because that was too close to Leanna’s true history. But he’d been thorough and he never let himself get his hopes up. He clicked on the link.
A blonde woman sat in the corner of a photograph. She wasn’t looking at the camera, but to her left. Saving the photo, he brought up the Warner file he kept under a separate password. He’d gathered everything he could about the woman a year ago, right after his brother, Christian, had given up his tough-guy act and confessed that he’d been hoodwinked… . By a slick fundraiser who was tall and slender and had a face that made men do foolish things.
Leanna was a card-carrying member of the Association of Fundraising Professionals with an office in Park Slope. She’d started out with a big firm, eventually opening her own office.
She and Christian had done quite well building up a sizable fund to benefit a number of charities. Only, none of the dividends reached the account. Instead, the investment profits had disappeared. Vanished. So had Leanna Warner, but only after the New York district attorney’s office, acting on a complaint, had gone after Christian.
While there was a lot of circumstantial evidence putting the money in Christian’s hands, there was no proof, no paper trail. Not that the D.A.’s office had stopped looking. They had made it clear Christian would remain a person of interest until they found Leanna and took her testimony. In the two years since the embezzlement, including the year Tucker had been conducting his own investigation, there hadn’t been a single clue as to her whereabouts.
Tucker still wasn’t sure there was one now. The pictures he had of Leanna showed an elegant, sophisticated New Yorker. she’d been one of the Manhattan hungry, seeking her fortune and status among the elite. If her plan had been to cut and run, she’d done herself a disservice. With her looks and the confidence she displayed on the two videos he’d found of her, she could have gone far.
Greed had a way of making fools of even the most promising.
Trouble was, he couldn’t be sure that the woman, identified simply as Annie, was Leanna Warner. If she’d only turned a little more toward the camera…Besides, this woman looked as if she’d been born in Western gear.
He ran one of the old videos and froze it when he had a decent view of her profile. He pulled up the two images so they were side by side on his monitor. For a long time, he just flicked his gaze from one to the other, and dammit, there were similarities. The odds were not high that he’d found the missing Warner, but it would drive him crazy not to know for sure. More importantly, he owed this to Christian.
Tucker didn’t have to look up the number for George Morgan, a family friend who also happened to be a private investigator in New York. He’d been on the case from the moment Christian had told Tucker about Leanna Warner, and while George had found out about her past, he’d had no luck finding the woman herself.
“Tucker. It’s been a while.”
“Too long,” Tucker said, leaning back in his chair, staring at the new picture as if her position would change if he looked hard enough. “I’m calling about Leanna Warner.”
George took a second. “Did something happen?”
“Maybe. I might have uncovered a picture, although I wouldn’t count on it. If it is her, she’s living in a flyspeck town in northern Montana, working at an animal sanctuary.”
“You want me to go check things out.” It wasn’t a question.
“I’d like that, yes.”
“I’m slammed at the moment but I can go in a couple of weeks.” Met with silence, George added, “Or I can recommend a couple of other investigators if you’d like.”
That changed things. Tucker hadn’t realized how invested he was in finding Warner until this photo had cropped up. Locating her might not solve all the issues he had with his brother, certainly wouldn’t fix things between Christian and their mother, but it would be a significant start. “Maybe I’ll fly out there myself. It’s probably a fool’s errand, but if it is her, I’ll make damn sure she doesn’t run again.”
“You know, there’s no guarantee that bringing her to the district attorney will be enough to clear Christian’s name.”
“I know.” Tucker stared out the window, trying to organize his thoughts. “I won’t be hasty. I’ll take a look around. See if I can dig up something tying her to the money.”
“I don’t know…. Sure it can’t wait two weeks?”
He smiled. “I won’t do anything risky. In fact, I have the perfect cover. My foundation funds sanctuaries and shelters.”
“Or you can have a look, confirm it’s her and, while you wait for me, take some time to go fishing. Montana has some great streams and lakes.”
Tucker laughed.
George did, too. “I know. What was I thinking? You’re so much like your old man. He never took time off, either.”
“Listen, do me a favor. When you can, dust off those Warner files, huh? It’s been a while. Let’s see if we missed a connection somewhere along the way.”
“That I can do fairly quickly.”
After they hung up, Tucker looked at his April calendar.
It was jammed, of course. The Rocking B ranch, started on a shoestring by his adoptive grandfather, built into an empire by his late step-father, was over 500,000 acres. They raised cattle, horses and crops, and there were twelve working oil wells on 160,000 acres of backcountry land. Although he had managers to handle the day-to-day business, the buck stopped with Tucker.
It wasn’t easy for him to make the trip himself, but he’d manage. If he rearranged his schedule, he could go the following Monday. That time frame would give him a chance to refresh himself on Leanna’s history and find out what he could about Safe Haven and the town of Blackfoot Falls.
He called Darren in, and they began the work of shuffling appointments. There wouldn’t be any problem, except for one—he dedicated Tuesday nights to dinner with his mother. If he flew out Monday, he doubted he’d be back in time.
Irene lived on the ranch in a private suite of rooms, but they didn’t cross paths that often. She had her own social circle that kept her reasonably busy, but she was still grieving for her husband, who’d died eighteen months ago.
Tucker spent his weekends in Dallas proper taking care of social obligations, and worked the rest of the week at the ranch. She probably wouldn’t say much, but of all the things Irene did, she most looked forward to their weekly dinner. He hated disappointing her, but it couldn’t be helped.
While Darren went through item after item, Tucker kept staring at the pictures he’d pulled back up on his computer. He might want to blame his younger brother for being so gullible, but that didn’t mean Tucker wouldn’t help him clear his name. There was more at stake here. Christian had gotten the short straw when they’d been children, and while Tucker’s own guilt was great, it was nothing compared to their mother’s.
He couldn’t afford to wait for George. Tucker needed to see this “Annie” for himself. And if she was the woman who’d left Christian holding the bag for her crimes, delivering her to justice might help bring his erstwhile family together again.
AS ANNIE SIPPED HER COFFEE, she checked the big blackboard above her desk. On it were the days of the week, the scheduled volunteers, appointments, deadlines…basically her life in chalk.
Mondays were always fun, at least in the early