Elusive Echoes (22 page)

They'd been in Santa Fe, New Mexico, only
two states away from Wyoming and the closest she'd been to her home
for two years. She'd told Denny of her plan to slip out and call
Sean for help. She'd managed to skim some of the take off the
homeless kids scam she and Denny had run on various street corners.
She had enough to get them both bus tickets to Cheyenne, and she
knew Sean would find a way to get her. Only Denny had been missing
when it was time to leave, and when she'd decided to leave without
him, he'd been waiting with Nick at the bus station. Nick had told
her if she had been resourceful enough to figure all that out, she
could run bigger cons, and her don't-touch-the-virgin con had been
born.

Mel shook her head and blinked back tears.
"I was wrong. Denny was exactly where he wanted to be."

Justin rubbed his jaw. "Nick DeVayne was
always a rooster. He wouldn't run things from behind the scenes. If
there's a scam going on and he's involved, I'd expect him to be
front and center."

"The fact that he's not's quite a script
change, isn't it?" Ryan spoke quietly, turning in his seat to look
directly at Joe.

"I'm afraid it is. And it makes Denny a wild
card. Unpredictable." Joe drained his glass of tea. He caught Mel's
gaze. "My contact will probably want to get in touch with you and
really pick your brain. His name's Ben Jamison."

Mel nodded. "Sure. I appreciate everything,
Joe."

"I know. That's why I do what I do." With a
cocky grin, Joe settled a Dodgers baseball cap on his head and
tugged the bill lower over his eyes before he pulled open the back
door and stepped through.

Ryan glanced at his father briefly before
standing and crossing to slip his arms around Sandy's waist.

Justin cleared his throat. "I came across
these the other day." He slid a large gold envelope tied with red
string across the table. "Just some pictures. Happens some of them
are old. You're even in a couple, got a handful of your parents in
here. They were with Tilly's things. I plumb forgot I had them
until Sean mentioned you didn't have any pictures of your
family."

Fighting to keep the hot tears in her eyes
from spilling over, Mel traced the edges of the envelope. "Thank
you," she whispered, not trusting herself to say much more.

Thankfully, at that moment the baby monitor
came to life with Bethany's lusty cry and Sandy sighed. "Sorry,
guys. I was going to peel the potatoes for dinner but the boss is
calling." She handed Ryan the vegetable peeler.

"Wait!" Mel stood. "Please let me see to
her."

Sandy looked startled. "Okay." She opened
the refrigerator and retrieved a pink bottle, which she handed to
Mel. "Put this in the bottle warmer and set it for two minutes.
Call me on the intercom if you need anything."

****

After Mel left, Devil's Advocate wandered
over to the fence, apparently looking to be friends. Sean managed
to get a lead on him and walked him across the stable yard and back
without incident. Dev shied away from any affection on Sean's part,
though, when he unclipped the rein and settled him back in the
paddock.

When he turned, Sean noticed Sandy crossing
the yard, and he waited for her to approach. "What's up?" he asked
when she got closer.

"I need to talk to you about Mel."

Sean scowled at her. "Look, I know I was a
jerk on Sunday. But even Mel's forgiven me."

Sandy shook her head. "This is something
else."

Sean looped Dev's lead over the gate and
gave Sandy his full attention. "Okay."

Sandy was just a little out of breath when
she stopped walking. "I think she's pretty fragile right now. All
this crap with her brother, and then worrying about her little
girl."

"No argument there." Sean started walking
toward the stable, where other horses awaited his attention.

Sandy fell in step next to him. "It occurred
to me when I listened to her tell her story that in a very real
way, she was violated. She may not have been actually raped, but
the violation is very similar."

Sean stopped walking and turned to stare at
his sister-in-law. "I. . ." He took a deep breath and tried again.
"I hadn't thought to look at it that way."

"I'm not a professional counselor or
anything." Sandy touched Sean on the arm. "But she gets a look in
her eyes when she talks about it, especially about the times she
was forced to scam the older men."

Sean sighed. So he hadn't been the only one
to notice. He'd hoped he was imagining it. He rubbed the back of
his neck. "I've seen that look, and it's scary as—" The words stuck
in his throat. "What can I do to help her?"

Sandy cringed. "She's going to hate this,
but I think she should see a counselor. Someone trained in domestic
violence and in PTSD."

Cold reached into Sean's heart and squeezed.
"You want me to convince her, don't you?"

Sandy smiled. "I think she'll get miffed at
you if you bring it up."

Sean slapped his palm against the wooden
stable door. "I don't know what to do, Sandy. I don't know how to
help her."

"
I'm
going to suggest counseling to
her." Sandy took his hand in hers and squeezed gently. "She'll get
mad at me. But if I open the door, you can maybe reinforce the
suggestion if you get the opportunity, and she won't be as mad at
you if you aren't the one to bring it up."

Sean nodded. He wanted badly for Mel's world
to right itself, but he knew it wouldn't happen on its own, and he
was completely powerless. "She doesn't have much hope of finding
her daughter, does she?"

"Joe's good, Sean. He took seven years to
find me for Ryan because they had the name wrong. But he's starting
with no name, and in some ways, that might be easier." She patted
him on the arm. "Just be there for her. In fact. . ." She turned to
look at the house. "She's in the nursery with Bethany right now.
And I sure would love the chance to visit with Domingo. You should
go to her. She's feeling a little raw after talking about her
baby."

Sandy didn't have to make the suggestion
twice.

Chapter Thirteen

Sean hung in the nursery door, the tears
he'd been struggling against for the past week filling his eyes.
Apparently oblivious to his presence, Mel sat in the old wooden
rocking chair that had once belonged to his mother. Her blond hair
spilled like a curtain of sunshine around her face, as her head
bent close to Bethany, cradled securely in her arms. She sang a
lullaby about pretty horses in a low, lilting voice.

Sean's heart tore in two; half saw her as a
fifteen-year-old girl with the daughter she'd never had the chance
to hold. The other half saw her as the woman she'd become, with
their own child. She was a natural mom, he realized. Maybe he'd
known it from the moment she'd put her arm around him after his
mother died.

Slowly, he scrubbed at his eyes, absolutely
unwilling to be caught in this vulnerable emotional state by anyone
in his family. He watched until Mel finished the song and kissed
the baby on the forehead.

"That makes a mighty pretty picture,
Sweetness," he whispered.

Mel didn't look up right away but she
smiled. She brushed her cheek against the sleeping baby's, then
stood and laid Bethany in her bassinet.

When Mel turned to Sean, her eyes were
bright with unshed tears but she stood in place. Moving with care,
the way he would with one of his frightened horses, Sean crossed
from the door to where Mel stood.

He traced a fingertip along the line of her
jaw, stopped at her chin, and raised her face, falling into her
gaze. "Hard day?"

"Yeah, a little." She laid a palm against
his cheek. Her hand was warm and smelled of baby lotion. "I have
all this stuff going on in my head. About my little girl, and about
. . . the other thing. And sometimes I think what if I am . . . and
then I wonder, what if I'm not, you know?"

Yeah, he knew. For the past couple of days,
he'd been tormenting himself with the same conflicting thoughts.
And not for the first time, he considered that if they had a child,
it might in many ways be just a replacement for the baby she'd
never even been allowed to meet. He hated that thought, recognizing
the selfishness in his desire for any child they created to be
special to them both because of their love for one another.

"I might have to let her go, Sean." Her
voice was quiet. Her chin quivered as she held back tears. "I might
never find her, might have to just accept I'll never know."

"Is that what Joe said?"

"Not in so many words."

"So they'll keep looking?"

She nodded. "Yeah, but—"

"Then we hold onto hope." He folded his arms
around her and held her close. "Don't give up on her yet,
okay?"

She nodded again. "I want to believe we'll
find her, Sean. I'd give almost anything just to know she's okay."
She sighed, then seemed to melt into him, bunching his shirt in
tightly clutching fingers like he was her personal lifeline to
hope.

Sean had been a problem solver his whole
life. Give him a troubled horse; he knew exactly how to approach it
to get it to trust again. Give him a complex logistics problem or
financial question, and he had the skills to fix what was wrong.
When his brother needed him to watch his back, Sean was there
without question. He didn't have the first idea how to make Mel's
life right again.

And that was killing him by inches and
feet.

****

LeeAnn wasn't thrilled when Mel arrived
fifteen minutes late to relieve her for her evening off, and she
wasn't shy about letting her know.

"I thought I might end up
working your shift again." Her scowl was aimed in Mel's direction
as she deliberately tugged off her green apron. "I washed the last
of the dishes and stacked them
all
. I thought that kid was supposed
to come in today to help with setup."

"Ricky's not here yet?" Mel frowned. It
wasn't like him to be even a minute late. "Thanks for covering
until I got here. I really appreciate it."

"Whatever." LeeAnn flung the words over her
shoulder on her way out the front door.

Mel watched her leave, glad when she was
gone. Her attitude sucked eggs, and if she kept it up, she wouldn't
last much longer. Even if she was good with the drinks and knew her
stuff, Mel had no idea what Sandy had been thinking to take the
girl on. But then, Sandy had taken a chance on Mel herself some
years back. And she'd had at least as big a chip on her
shoulder.

Still, Mel decided it was time to talk with
Sandy about hiring some more help. They were busy enough they might
be able to afford two more part-time employees. Then, if LeeAnn
quit, they could move someone up to full time.

For all the complaining she had done, at
least LeeAnn had accomplished the setup so everything was ready for
the evening's customers, who would begin to arrive within the hour.
Thursday wasn't their lightest evening, but it was seldom hard to
handle the folks who came in. Mel actually enjoyed being the only
bartender on her nights, and with Ricky serving the food, they made
a good team. He was a hard worker, liked the customers, and always
got excellent tips.

Working out the problems of the bar and
making plans for the future steadied Mel. Thinking of things other
than her screwed up family helped give her distance from the
troubles and a calming perspective on her life. When she was here
behind the bar, she was Sandy's partner, half owner of Valentine's,
one of the most successful businesses in Orson's Folly. She didn't
feel like a victim when she dealt with business matters.

The front door opened, and Mel looked up
with a welcoming smile, ready to serve the first customer of the
evening.

Her smile and professional attitude
vanished. She kept her voice careful, emotionless. "Denny."

"Hiya, Melanie."

The brother she'd walked away from had been
a tough boy with scruffy dark hair and eyes, still somewhat awkward
at seventeen, but already developing the suaveness needed for life
as a professional grifter.

The hard man who sauntered across the space
between the door and the bar had his hair cut in a flashy style.
His clothing was western-style but all designer-made. He had
expensive sunglasses hooked in the collar of his pricey shirt. His
cowboy boots were genuine alligator skin. He'd either hit it big or
he had a benefactor who was willing to cater to his tastes.

"What are you doing here?" She struggled to
maintain an even tone. She wanted to jump over the bar, grab him,
and make him tell her what he knew about her daughter. Instead, she
crumpled a towel and wiped the bar down while she waited for his
answer.

"Aren't you going to offer me a drink?"

"You planning to pay for it?" she
countered.

Denny flinched and clutched his chest.
"Ouch. Harsh."

She raised an eyebrow, not for a moment
fooled by his playful attitude. The organ beating in the chest he
clutched was as cold and dead as last year's Easter ham and as
rotten as an old egg.

With a smirk, Denny slipped a pricey
appearing leather wallet out of his pocket and removed a twenty,
then slid it across the bar. "Whiskey sour. And, ah, keep the
change." He took a seat on the nearest stool.

Not on your life, you
little prick.
Mel smiled as she made the
drink and correct change, and set both in front of him.

Denny took a drink without touching the
bills. "Did you get my letters?"

"You mean your cryptic little trips down
your version of Memory Lane?" Mel tossed the cloth beneath the bar,
not caring that it knocked over a row of shot glasses. "Yeah, I got
them. What do you want, Denny?"