“You’re up. That’s means I won’t have to wake you.” Laredo crossed to the table, tossed a newspaper on top of it, pulled out a chair, swung it around, and straddled it.
“Did you have any luck?” He pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair, reaching for his coffee cup.
“You could say that.” Steady blue eyes held his gaze. “I located a bellman who remembered you, said your name was Chase Calder. Unfortunately, according to the morning paper”—Laredo gave it a push toward him—“you’re dead, killed in a car crash the night before last.”
He picked up the paper, but the type was blurred. He extended his arm, trying to bring it into focus.
“Need some reading glasses, do you,” Hattie guessed, rising from her chair. “I’ll get you a pair of mine. They might be the right strength.”
Questions buzzed in his head, but he held his silence until he read the article. Hattie’s glasses worked well enough to allow him to see the print. The write-up was a small one, between two and three inches long. Its length was mostly due to the identity of the victim in this particular traffic accident. Even then there were few facts to glean from it, merely that the deceased was Chase Calder, owner of the Triple C Ranch in eastern Montana.
“Chase Calder.” He spoke the name, but it had no more meaning to him than if he had said John Doe. He set the paper aside and laid the glasses on top of it. Hattie picked up both.
“Do you remember anything at all about the man who robbed you?” Laredo studied him thoughtfully.
“No. I only remember you telling me that you saw a man holding me up. My memory starts with the slam of a car door, gunshots, and a vehicle peeling out.”
“That was your holdup man, making his getaway as fast as he could,” Laredo stated, “taking with him your wallet with its identification and driving the car you rented. He even managed to wind up with the key to your hotel room.”
“It’s also possible the victim was Chase Calder.”
“It’s possible,” Laredo conceded. “But I don’t believe it. That article in the paper omits one important detail—following the crash, the car burst into flames. The body was burned beyond recognition. Granted, I didn’t get a good look at your robber, but to the best of my recollection, he was about your height and build. He could have even been about your age. We may never know, unless the family requests an autopsy. At this point, the authorities definitely haven’t ordered one. Why should they when they are convinced they know both the man’s identity and the cause of his death?”
“But there’s someone who knows the dead man isn’t Chase Calder,” he murmured, thinking out loud.
“That’s right,” Laredo said with a decisive nod. “The man who tried to kill you. It’s possible that he might not know that the thief took off in your rental car, but not likely.”
“He won’t know for sure unless I come forward—assuming I really am Chase Calder.”
“The newspaper archives might have a photo of Chase Calder,” Laredo told him. “That’s one way you could find out. Of course, there is another way.”
“What’s that?”
“Someone from your family is flying in this morning to arrange to have the body shipped home for burial. I have the name of the mortuary they’ll be using on the Fort Worth end. All you would have to do is show up there and wait to see if you are recognized.”
“I could.” But doing so would only answer whether or not he was Chase Calder. It wouldn’t solve anything else. If anything, his situation might be worse. His killer would know he was alive, but he wouldn’t know who that man was.
“You could, but you won’t,” Laredo guessed.
“No, I don’t think so.”
Hattie looked up from the article, the reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. “Why not? Think what your family is going through right now,” she protested.
He experienced a twinge of guilt, but it didn’t change his decision. “I regret that, but—”
“You regret it! That is the most heartless thing I have ever heard.” She glared her disapproval.
“Maybe it seems that way, but I think it’s best for now,” he replied calmly.
Hattie stared at him long and hard, her lips pressed tightly together. “And as long as you think it’s best, that is all that matters, isn’t it?”
“This isn’t the time to come forward.” It was a gut decision. Right now his instincts were the only thing he could trust.
“It could take months for your memory to return,” Hattie warned.
“And in the meantime,” Laredo spoke, “there’s a man out there who wants him dead. For all he knows it could be a member of his own family.”
That possibility had clearly never occurred to Hattie. It showed in the sudden doubt that flickered in her expression. “Still,” she began, “you must be curious about your family. Don’t you want to know if you have a wife? Children?”
“Of course I do.” Impatience riddled his voice, but it was born of his inability to remember for himself.
“I can find out the answers to those questions.” Laredo pushed off the chair and stood up. “Hopefully without raising too much suspicion.”
Gratitude tinged the look he gave Laredo. He was fully aware of how much he already owed this man. But, in addition to that, there was a connection between them that he couldn’t fully explain. Perhaps it was the sense of mutual regard.
The irony of it wasn’t lost on him. He was a man with no memory, seeking his identity. Laredo, on the other hand, sought to conceal his identity under an assumed name.
“I don’t know where you plan on going,” Hattie said, “but you aren’t leaving this house until you’ve had breakfast.”
“I wondered how long it would take before you offered me some of those bacon and eggs you served him.” Laredo walked over to the counter and helped himself to some coffee.
By midday the temperature had climbed to well over ninety degrees, and it felt even hotter than that on the concrete streets and sidewalks of Fort Worth, signaling the onset of another scorching Texas summer.
Inside the hotel lobby, the air was cool. Comfortably ensconced in a leather chair facing the hotel entrance, Laredo pretended to peruse the newspaper he held open while keeping one eye on the front door. He was playing the odds that the arriving family members would stay at the same hotel Calder had used. An early morning trip to the newspaper archives had turned up a photo of Chase Calder. There was no more doubt they were one and the same man.
As busy as the lobby was, with people coming and going and meeting, no one took any notice of his presence even though Laredo had been sitting there close to an hour. He figured he had another hour before someone from hotel security came around to “talk” to him.
A man and woman came through the front door, followed by a porter with their luggage. The man was tall and lean, with jet black hair partially covered by a black Stetson. His gaze made a thorough sweep of the lobby, noting people and details with the watchful alertness Laredo had usually observed in those in law enforcement.
Laredo lifted the newspaper a little higher and shifted his attention to the petite woman at the man’s side. She had a face and figure that any male would notice. Laredo had an odd longing to see her smile, but her face was expressionless, almost stony and lifeless. At first he wondered if the two had had a fight. Then another possibility occurred to him.
After folding up the newspaper, Laredo stood up and drifted closer to the registration desk to covertly observe the pair. The woman stood to one side, staring sightlessly at the floor, while the man arranged for their hotel room. She looked up once, straight in Laredo’s direction, yet she didn’t appear to be looking at anything.
Her eyes were green, and full of more pain than he had ever seen in a woman’s eyes.
Intent on the couple, Laredo didn’t notice the woman who entered the hotel. His first awareness of her was when she glided into his vision.
“Cat, darling, I am so sorry.” She reached out to the petite brunette to clasp her hands. “I just heard about Chase. How horrible for you.”
Chase. Laredo hid a smile at the name. His instincts about the pair had been right; they were part of the Calder family.
“Tara.” Surprise registered briefly in the woman’s face before her expression dulled again. “How did you know we would be here?”
“After Brownsmith called me with the news, I phoned the ranch,” the woman called Tara explained. “Sally told me that you and Logan had left this morning and planned to stay here. As soon as I learned you hadn’t checked in yet, I came right down. It’s foolish of you to spend the night in a hotel when I have that big old house with all those empty guest rooms. Let me take you to my place. You shouldn’t be staying in a cold, impersonal hotel, not at a time like this.”
“I—” The Calder woman didn’t appear to be too thrilled with the invitation.
“I insist, Cat.” The other woman used her most persuasive tone. “No one knows better than I the agony you are going through right now. It hasn’t been that long ago that I lost my own father. Believe me, I know how deeply you are hurting.”
This woman called Cat was the daughter, Laredo realized, and made a closer study of her so he could describe her later to Duke. Correction, Chase Calder.
When the man joined the two women, the daughter turned to him. “Tara wants us to stay at her place.”
“Too late. We are already registered, and our luggage is on its way up. But we do appreciate the invitation, Tara.” His refusal was warmly polite but firm.
The Tara woman took it better than Laredo had expected. She made a small moue of regret and looked at Cat with genuine empathy. “As much as I would like to argue against your decision, I won’t. This isn’t the time for family to be squabbling.”
So Tara was some sort of relation to Calder as well, Laredo filed away that piece of information.
“Good,” Cat stated. “Because I simply don’t have the strength to argue.”
Tears welled in her green eyes, and her lower lip quivered with the strain of holding her emotions in check, but she kept her chin high. Maybe she didn’t resemble her father in looks, but she had clearly inherited some of his grit.
To Laredo’s surprise, a delicate teardrop slipped down Tara’s cheek. Gracefully she wiped it away, showing him a flash of her discreetly manicured nails.
Smiling in a forced show of composure, Tara asked, “Have you been to the funeral home yet?”
“No,” the man answered. “We came straight to the hotel from the airport.”
“In that case, I have my car here. Let me take you.” When she saw their joint hesitation, she rushed, “Please. I would like to help in some way. You and Ty were here for me when my father died. Let me return the kindness you showed me.”
“Of course.” The woman named Cat seemed to regret her initial hesitation in accepting the offer. “It will be much more convenient than relying on taxis.”
“I’ll have the valet bring my car around.”
The man stopped her. “Not just yet,” he said. “First Cat and I need to go to our room and freshen up a bit. It was a long flight. We’ll meet you down here in, say, forty-five minutes to an hour.”
“Of course. I’ll wait for you in the bar,” Tara replied, then hesitated, a look of grief sweeping over her expression. “Oh, Cat. I just can’t believe Chase is gone.”
Briefly the two women embraced in a moment of shared pain and loss. The wetness of tears glistened on the cheeks of both women. With his arm circled around her, the man led Cat to the elevator bank. Tara watched them for a moment, then pivoted in a graceful turn and headed toward the hotel bar.
After allowing a span of seconds to pass, Laredo followed her. Tara sat on a tall stool at the bar, managing to project a certain aura of innate elegance. At this hour there were few customers. Laredo picked a seat a few stools away, closer to the bartender.
In a low voice intended for the bartender’s hearing only, Laredo said, “I’ll pay for the lady’s drink. I’ll have a beer, whatever is on tap.” He withdrew a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and laid it on the counter.
The bartender glanced at the money and nodded. When the man set a glass of chilled white wine in front of Tara, she said, “How much do I owe you?”
“The gentleman paid for it already, ma’am.” He nodded in Laredo’s direction.
She stiffened, throwing him a cool look of suspicion. Laredo lifted his beer glass in a salute to her. “My sympathies, ma’am.”
His remark dissolved her coolness in an instant, leaving her puzzled and uncertain. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
“No, ma’am. But I happened to see you out in the lobby a minute ago with some of the Calder family.”
“Do you know the Calders?” she wondered with the beginnings of curiosity.
“Only Chase Calder,” Laredo answered truthfully. “The news of his death was a real shock.”
“To everyone,” she agreed and sighed deeply.
“Are you related to them?” He injected an idle note into the question.