Bridal Falls Ranch Ransom (5 page)

The humor in the ruse found its mark and made him grin. “So I don’t have to list sperm cop on any future job refer—”

A metallic clatter blended with a high-pitched scream and resonated through the upstairs rooms.

The hairs on the back of J.P.’s neck came to attention.

“It’s Edith,” Eve yelled. “Something’s wrong!”

Tossing Eve’s hat into the corner, he bolted for the closed door at the end of the hallway.

Grasping the knob, he turned it and slipped into the room, where Edith Weber stood with one hand pressed against her chest. Wide-eyed, she pointed a shaky finger at the box on the edge of the table. Taking a step back, she shuddered, shook her head and covered her mouth with her hand.

In four steps he reached the work space. Eve’s work space, judging by the sheets of delicate line drawings depicting wedding dresses. But the beautiful images warred with the repulsive smell invading his nostrils. Rotting flesh, distinct in its putrid stench.

J.P. lifted his arm and pressed his nose into the crux at his elbow.

Reaching down, he pulled back the solid-black plastic sheeting Edith had cut through, probably with the scissors on the floor right where she’d dropped them.

Staring at the carnage, he gritted his teeth.

A rat the size of his fist lay splayed in the box. Neatly gutted, cut up into pieces, packaged and sent to Eve Brooks.

Cut up. The exact words the kidnapper had used when he’d threatened Eve in his second phone call.

J.P. sobered as he lapped the flaps of the box.

“I need a paper sack, Edith, and a plastic bag, something I can seal this in.”

“I’ll get someone to take it to the trash can outside.”

“I’m not going to toss it.”

Her eyes went wide for an instant before a look of horror twisted her features. “You’re going to keep it!”

“I’m going to send it out for forensic analysis. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find out who sent it to Miss Brooks. I’m going to need a box to ship it in, too.”

Edith exited the studio and J.P. listened to her hurried footfalls on the stairs. In less than half a minute, she returned with the items he needed to seal up the kidnapper’s gruesome message.

“J.P.! What’s going on?” The sound of Eve’s voice coming from behind a closed door near the back of the room brought his head around.

“Edith’s fine. I’ll fill you in as soon as I take care of it.”

Turning back to the job at hand, he bagged the rat and its wrapper along with the box it came in, put it in the paper sack first, then into the plastic garbage bag and finally the shipping box Edith handed him.

“When does your mail carrier come?”

“This afternoon around three.”

“Will you make sure this goes out today?”

“Yes.”

Taking the permanent marker Edith handed him, he scribbled the address of the private forensics lab he used in L.A. onto the box. He sealed the package and put it on the corner of the table.

He had to admit it was a stomach-turning piece of evidence, but not one he could overlook. If even a single print was found it would override the howls he was sure he’d hear from his buddy at the lab when he opened the parcel for examination.

Glancing at the desk where Eve’s computer sat, he spotted the telephone. “Is that the phone where the kidnapper’s call came in to Miss Brooks?”

“Yes.”

J.P. reached into his pocket and pulled out the recorder, glad the thug who’d trashed his computer and ransacked his bunk room had failed to take the device.

“What is that?” Edith asked.

“An in-line recording device. Once I plug it into the phone jack and plug the telephone into it, we’ll be able to record any call that comes into the lodge. Hopefully we’ll catch a break and record one from the kidnapper.”

Edith nodded. “What will they come up with next?” She stepped up and took the box off the table. “I’ll get this weighed and affix the postage.”

“Thanks,” he said, watching her gingerly take the parcel from the table and head out of the studio as if at any moment it might break wide open.

Within a couple of minutes he’d installed the recorder.

“J.P.?” Eve called out.

Taking one last look around her cushy prison, he turned and left the studio, headed for the room at the end of the hall to tell her what had just transpired.

The thug had intended to send Eve a message. One he knew would strike at her heart. Feed her fear he’d follow through on his threat if she didn’t pay the ransom.

But it wasn’t going to happen on his watch. He was here to protect her, no matter what.

This was his fight now.

Chapter Five

J.P. eyed the montage of temporary cowboys as they trailed into the barn, a couple with their saddles slung over a shoulder, all carrying duffel bags for the two-week period they’d be working branding season at the Bridal Falls Ranch.

Rubbing leather soap over the seat of a nice Circle Y saddle with a soft rag, he listened to Devon Hall give each man his bunkhouse assignment and explain the schedule. Only one man blipped on J.P.’s radar. A lanky cowboy named Ted Allen. Something in the way his calculating stare had roamed over everyone and everything made J.P. wonder if he was looking for more than a couple of weeks’ pay.

“If you boys wanna head on up to bunk row and get settled in, we’ll meet half an hour from now at the corral to pick a mount,” Devon said.

A nod went through them as they turned and headed for their accommodations.

J.P. straightened and watched them go, pulling in details before turning to Devon once the group was well out of earshot.

“Locals?” he asked, laying the soiled cloth on the saddle seat.

“All but one of ’em.”

“Let me guess. Ted Allen?”

Devon nodded. “How’d you know?”

“I didn’t like his calculated once-over. Better keep an eye on him. I’ll run a background check on all of them to see if anything turns up.”

The ranch foreman pushed his lower lip out in consideration of the request. “Can’t hurt. The Bridal Falls Ranch needs temporary cowpokes we can trust.” He tapped the folder in his hand presumably containing the temporary workers’ employment applications. “But I didn’t just ride in on the last stagecoach, J.P. And when this is all over, I’d like to know what the hell is going on and why you’re really here.”

His nerves bristled as he met Devon’s unrelenting stare. He didn’t read challenge there, just concern.

“Eve Brooks is in danger. I’m here to protect her while I try to find out who’s making her life hell.”

The foreman didn’t blink. “This doesn’t have anything to do with the missing samples from the cryo room, does it?

“It never happened.”

“I can live with that. Besides, she’s the boss. What she says and does goes. You can come up to my office for these employment files this afternoon while I’ve got the crew out combing for strays. They’ll be in my inbox. Did you find out anything I should know about on my permanent crew?”

“They all came back clean.”

“I knew they would.” Devon turned and walked away, apparently satisfied for the moment with his answer.

J.P. shrugged off the layer of unease his body was wrapped in, picked up the saddle and carried it into the tack room along with the cleaning supplies.

Eve Brooks was a fragile soul. A fact he hadn’t understood until she’d told him about the pipe bomb. Then she’d received the box containing a dissected rat, clearly a message from the kidnapper quantifying his threat to hurt her. She’d taken the information okay, but he’d heard the distinct sound of fear in the tremor of her voice.

Flopping the saddle onto the rack, he left the tack room and headed for the bunkhouse.

She’d survived a nightmare, and what a horrific nightmare it was. He couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to have a bomb go off in his face.

Too bad the rat package itself hadn’t given up clues as to who’d sent it on the address label, and it would be weeks before he heard back from the forensic lab in L.A. He’d even called the delivery company, hoping someone was able to identify who’d sent the unnerving message to Eve’s doorstep, but no one could.

A week on the Bridal Falls Ranch and he was no closer to finding Eve’s tormenter than the day he’d arrived.

* * *

E
ve stared at the grouping
of photographs arranged on the wall in her work space. Celebrity brides smiled back at her, adorned in flowing waves of taffeta, satin, lace, beading and chiffon precisely wrapped around their figures and personalities. All gown designs she’d envisioned while she’d stared in awe at the beauty of Bridal Falls, with its glistening train of water and veil-thin mist of spray.

She could use some inspiration right now.

Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she glanced at the letter in her hand. Amanda Blackburn’s wedding gown request, along with her personal profile. It was due back in L.A. on the cutting floor by the end of the week for a sample gown to be constructed for her first fitting and final approval.

She contemplated her options. She hadn’t been comfortable soaking up the falls’ particular brand of magic since the kidnapper’s calls had started.

But nothing had taken place since the rat incident, and J.P. was never far from her. Maybe it was time to trust him with her safety and the true secret behind her success.

Forcing the weight of doubt from her mind, she pressed the intercom button on her desk.

“Yes?” Edith’s reply came over the speaker.

“Please go and find J.P.” The words hung up in her throat, but she forced them out. “Ask him to saddle Ginger, and a horse for himself. Tell him I’ll meet him in the barn in half an hour. I’m going to ride out to Bridal Falls.” She released the button and closed her eyes, praying Edith didn’t challenge her wishes with a motherly cajole layered in sympathetic overtures. That would make it all too easy to follow her instincts and retract the request. To stay locked up in here forever.

“I’ll take care of it, dear.”

Straightening, she shook off the fingers of fear combing over her nerves. Turning, she headed for her room to change into jeans and boots, purposefully avoiding her reflection in the mirror as she passed the open bathroom door.

Thinking instead about the fact she hadn’t felt the sun’s direct warmth on her skin in months.

* * *

J.P.
reined in the
headstrong bay he’d saddled and slid a glance toward Eve, whose face was skillfully hidden beneath the thick veil hanging over the brim of her hat.

“How far to the falls?” he asked, taking a look at his watch. They’d left the ranch forty-five minutes ago.

“It’s three miles from the main lodge as the crow flies. Three and a half this way. My great-grandmother Evelyn discovered it the year she and my great-grandpa Parnell homesteaded the place.”

“In 1890 as I recall.”

“You’ve been talking to Henry Brashear, haven’t you?”

“He’s a knowledgeable man and a good pilot. Sure seems to know and care about your family.”

“Yeah, as long as you never ask him about my mother, Katherine.”

“He claimed the Brooks women are a hardy lot.”

“Not my mom. She hated it here. Left the first chance she got and took me with her.”

“Did you grow up in L.A.?”

“Yeah.” Eve steered her mare off onto an overgrown path and leaned forward in the saddle. “We’ve got a steep climb ahead. It’ll take us along this ridge before it drops us into a narrow meadow at the base of Bridal Falls.”

J.P. tried to relax into the rhythm of the horse’s gait, but he couldn’t stop watching for movement in the thick stands of timber skirting the trail. There were an infinite number of places to hide, and any one of them could produce a threat he would never see coming until it was too late.

Casually, he felt for the butt of the pistol strapped to his side, the one the thug hadn’t discovered tucked under the mattress in his bunk room. Drawing a sense of security from it, he stayed on alert. His Glock was still at large, and deadly in the hands of whoever had stolen it, but at least he knew the ranch hands of the Bridal Falls each had an alibi for the night it was taken. They were all playing poker.

The hiss of water whispered just beyond a cluster of trees, and it turned to a rush as they topped out on the spine of the ridge and began their descent.

He caught a glimpse of the falls through the trees. Intrigued, he sat up straighter in the saddle, anxious to take in the sight. He was no expert on places you had to see to believe, but he knew he’d become a convert the second they cleared the trailhead and reined in the horses on a patch of grass-scattered earth.

“Incredible,” he whispered. Unable to take his eyes off the mesmerizing waterfall, he watched it leap from a lip of rock a hundred feet above in a fan pattern. It divided midair into three separate gushers and broke apart on a prominent outcropping of rocks below before flowing into a serene pool thirty feet long and thirty feet wide.

“I was four years old the first time I saw it.” Eve dismounted and led her horse to a spot where a makeshift hitching post had been constructed between two trees.

“It was the most magical thing I’d ever seen in my life. It still is.” She casually tied her horse’s reins around the post and pulled them tight.

“My grandfather made sure I had a photograph of it the following week. Gave it to me in a frame. I still have it.”

J.P. climbed down out of the saddle, wishing he could see her expression behind the veiled hat. It was the first time he’d detected a note of genuine pleasure in her voice.

“Were you close?”

“Very. We idolized each other. He was old and I was young. No one in the middle seemed to be paying much attention to either one of us at the time, so we teamed up. When I was old enough he taught me to ride, to shoot, to track wild game, to be self-reliant....” Her voice trailed off, her head lolled forward, and he wondered if she wasn’t about to cry behind her veil.

“And he introduced me to this beautiful place. He helped me become who I am, and then he passed away. Less than a year later, my parents divorced, my mother got custody and moved us to L.A. My dad took over the ranch.”

“You still miss him, and this place, don’t you?”

“Every day.” Eve turned to rummage in her saddlebag and pulled out a large, clear plastic satchel that contained a sketch pad and baggie of pencils. “You’re welcome to hike around if you’d like. I’ve got work to do. Shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

J.P. stared after her as she headed for a rock near the base of the falls. She was tall and slender, her stride graceful and easy. Natural? Or maybe that had come from her years as a model. Either way, he enjoyed the view.

“You should feel the water,” she said over her shoulder. “It’s nice.”

He watched her step up onto the rock. Heat clouded his brain for an instant. He got lost in her movements, watching her sit down, then cross her legs, much as a child would do. If he could reach out right now and touch her, he would.

Perturbed with his thoughts, he retrained his focus and surveyed the entire perimeter of the area. All the natural beauty made his head spin, but he couldn’t let it distract him from his mission of keeping another beauty safe.

He tied up his horse next to hers and walked to the edge of the pool. Squatting down, he trailed his fingers through the crystal clear water and scanned for a bottom in the basin, but he didn’t find one.

Deep. Warm. Eighty degrees.

“Geothermal. Spring fed. It’s a great skinny-dipping hole,” Eve announced from her perch in the center of the rock with her sketch pad on her lap. “My favorite thing to do is leap from this rock into the water.”

“Are you speaking from experience?” He pushed back up onto his feet, intrigued by the playful lilt in her voice.

“I’ll never tell.” She went back to her drawing, and he relaxed, watching her hand work the pencil on the sketch paper.

It was understandable how easily she found inspiration here, with the lulling flow of the waterfall. But could she find peace?

Behind him, a rustle in the brush triggered a full-on response.

He spun around, seeing movement near the opening of the trailhead. Warning knifed through him. In battle mode, he reached for his weapon, his hand frozen on the butt of the pistol.

Less than fifty feet away a bull elk erupted from the bushes and stopped in the middle of the trail.

J.P. tensed, watching the wary animal’s large brown eyes take in the perceived threat of intruders on the banks of his watering hole. A big game animal his size could be dangerous, depending on the time of year. Breeding season was particularly tricky, but months away, and with no cow elk harem to protect, he’d probably retreat if challenged.

Glancing Eve’s way, he saw that she seemed undisturbed by the presence of an eighteen-hundred-pound beast with antlers. Working his way her direction, he kept his eyes on the animal, putting himself between her and the threat.

The elk snorted, then bolted into the buck brush next to the trail. He reached Eve, still tracking the animal’s movements, unable to relax until he moved off a safe distance.

“He wasn’t going to charge,” she said, still running her pencil over her paper without so much as glancing up. “Rut is months away.”

“You do know something about elk behavior. I’m impressed.” Impressed that a woman who’d traveled the world in her career, judging by her modeling profile, would know anything about the mating season of bull elk in west-central Idaho.

Glancing down he admired the wedding dress sketch she’d nearly completed. He wasn’t an expert, but he could see the craftsmanship in her lines. “You’ve got talent.”

“Thanks. Fortunately I’ve been able to parlay it into a business I love. Eve Brooks Bridal Couture. As soon as I send this drawing off to L.A. for her final approval, it’ll become Amanda Blackburn’s gown for her nuptials to Ryan Taylor next year, oceanside in Malibu.”

He let loose a low whistle, doubting she could hear it over the rush of the falls. He’d just seen actress Amanda Blackburn’s latest movie on the big screen the week before he’d taken Eve’s case.

“Hell of a long way between here and Holly-weird.”

“Just the way I like it.” With a stylized sweep of her hand, she signed the bottom of the drawing and laid the sketch pad on the rock next to her. “I can’t function in that world anymore.”

“Because of the pipe bomb explosion?”

“Yes. It flipped my entire world upside down. Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

“No,” he lied. His world had tilted in the past three years, but Eve Brooks was talking. He didn’t plan to stop her with his own tale of redemption.

“
Vogue
magazine, Ms. Brooks, can you look this way? Smile. You’re looking a little thin, Eve, are you eating enough? You’ve got to drop five pounds by Friday’s
Harper’s Bazaar
cover shoot or the Versace isn’t going to hang right.”