“Any kind?”
“The one I hope to adopt is a mutt. Big dog. Boxer and pit bull probably. At least according to the vet.”
“Guard dog?” he asked, remembering the way she glanced over her shoulder as she crossed the street with Eli an hour earlier.
“That’s one criterion.” Her eyes shifted away, toward the area where Eli and a group of kids were crowding around the arcade-type machines. “I, um, live alone.” She picked up her glass. “Could use the company. You know.”
“Yeah.” He nodded, thinking of Sarge and silently praying the dog would pull through.
“So, you grew up around here?” she asked, changing the subject and pushing a bit of uneaten pizza crust to one side of her plate.
“Been here most of my life, except for college and a few years in the army. Inherited the place and decided ranching was a good life. What about you?”
“I was born and raised in Helena, but my grandparents lived here, so I spent my summers at their farm.” She smiled thoughtfully, caught up in the nostalgia of the moment, seeming to study her near-empty glass, though he suspected her mind was miles and years away, conjuring images of her youth. Vaguely, he wondered if she’d known Leanna, who had spent the first years of her vagabond life in Montana’s state capital as well.
“So you decided to settle down here?”
“Eventually.” Her eyes shifted, and she looked up at him again. “I went to college in Missoula, medical school in Seattle, and stayed for a while. I got married, then divorced and, since I’d inherited the farm, decided to move back.”
“No kids?”
She shook her head, her nose wrinkling in distaste. “He. . wasn’t ‘ready.’ ” She made air quotes, then, as if she’d thought better of it, shook her head. “It’s over, has been for three years, and I told myself I’d try never to be catty about it, even if he is an easy target.” She lifted one slim shoulder, dismissing the man to whom she was once married. “So, how about you? What happened to Eli’s mother?” She took a sip from her glass.
“She took a hike. Never hear from her.”
She thought about that long and hard.
“We do fine,” he stated firmly.
Her expression was neutral, but he bet she didn’t believe him for a second. And the thing of it was, she was right. He remembered Eli’s most recent crying jag, when he’d begged to find out where Leanna was. God, it tore his heart out, and he couldn’t help wondering how scarred his boy was.
Before the conversation went any further, they were interrupted. “Hey! Doctor Lambert!”
Trace turned to see the receptionist for the clinic wending her way through the tables. She was balancing a glass of wine in one hand. The fingers of her other hand were laced with those of a twentysomething guy who sported a scruffy beard and wore a frayed stocking cap drawn down over his ears.
“Hi, Heather,” Kacey said.
“This is Jimmy,” she said quickly; then her gaze landed on Trace. “And you’re Eli’s dad, right?” She was nodding, agreeing with herself. “How’s he doing… oh!”
At that moment Eli came barreling back to the table. “I need more money!”
“Hey, dude, don’t we all?” Jimmy said.
Eli cast him a who-the-heck-are-you glance. “To play the games,” he said to his father.
“I think maybe it’s time to go.” Trace scraped his chair back.
“Wow.” Jimmy took a look at Kacey as she stood. “You kinda remind me of someone.”
“Miss Wallis!” Eli said; then his expression clouded as he remembered that she was gone.
“Shelly Bonaventure,” Heather said.
Jimmy snapped his fingers. “That’s it. Man, you’re like a dead ringer or something.”
“Or something,” Kacey said, and she, seeming to suddenly want to leave as quickly as Trace did, reached for the coat she’d tossed onto an empty chair.
But the kid was right. Trace was only vaguely aware of Shelly Bonaventure as an actress, but in the last week her picture had been splashed across the front of every magazine near the checkout stand of the store where he bought groceries. He’d also caught the end of an “in-depth” story on the woman when he’d been channel surfing the news for an update on the weather.
“She was from around here, wasn’t she?” Jimmy asked.
“Helena, I think,” Heather said.
“Helena,” Trace repeated, his gaze meeting the doctor’s. Like Leanna. And Kacey.
“I think I’d better get moving,” Kacey said. “Thanks.”
Heather’s gaze swept from her boss to Trace and Eli, and she had trouble smothering a smile.
“Can we see Sarge?” Eli asked again as Trace helped him with his jacket.
“Tomorrow, bud.”
“But I want to see him now.” Eli’s gaze traveled through the window and across the street to the veterinary clinic.
“We have to let Dr. Eagle work with him.”
Eli’s lower lip protruded, but he didn’t offer up any further arguments. Kacey told Heather she’d “see her back at the office next week,” before they all eventually worked their way out of the crowded restaurant and into the icy night, where a few tiny flakes of snow were falling and the temperature was hovering just below freezing.
He and Eli walked the doctor to her car. As she fumbled for her keys before unlocking the Ford, she smiled up at him. “Thanks for the pizza.”
“No problem. Eli. .” He nudged his boy. “Don’t you have something to say to Dr. Lambert?” His kid looked up at him and blinked. “About the ice cream?” Trace reminded him.
“Oh. Yeah. Thanks,” Eli said, remembering his manners.
“Anytime. Take care of that arm, okay?” With one last glance up at Trace, she said, “Dr. Lambert sounds a little too formal anymore, doesn’t it? It’s Kacey.”
“Kacey,” Trace repeated.
Then she opened the door of her Edge and slid behind the wheel.
Still holding Eli’s hand, Trace watched as she nosed the Ford out of its space and drove away. He bustled his son to his own truck, parked nearby, and as he headed out of town, he thought about her and Leanna and Jocelyn Wallis and Shelly friggin’ Bonaventure.
Two were dead.
One was missing.
And the fourth, Kacey, had glanced guardedly over her shoulder as she’d shepherded Eli across the street earlier.
Three of them had ties to Helena.
And they all resembled each other.
As he slowed for the stoplight near Shorty’s Diner, he wondered what the hell, if anything, their connection was.
She was home!
He heard the key in her lock, the creak of the kitchen door, and the sound of her footsteps as she crossed the kitchen floor.
It was amazing how crisp the quality of the sound was, and he settled deeper into his chair to listen remotely as she snapped on the radio and ripped something that sounded like paper. Oh, of course. Her mail!
Though he had no camera equipment — he hadn’t risked that yet — he could imagine Acacia walking through her house, kicking off her shoes… running the bathwater. .
That a girl…
In his mind’s eye he watched as she pinned up her hair, then stripped off her clothes, tossing them into a corner in the bathroom. Then, naked, her nipples tight and hard with the cold air, she would settle herself into the steaming tub.
Would she add a stream of bubble bath and let the foam surround her? Perhaps light a candle or two and watch the flames flicker and gleam against the cold panes of the frosted window? Would she sink down low enough in the tub that the tendrils of hair on her nape would become damp? Would the water drops glisten on her long legs as she hooked her ankles over the rim of her old claw-footed tub?