Leann Sweeney - Pushing Up Bluebonnets

"Thank you, Estelle. Thank you so much."

I paid a visit to the bathroom then, the one that reminded me of Glenwood Cemetery. I sat on a little bench against the wall and thought for a minute. Ian found the pictures, maybe in the trash here at the ranch or maybe in Simone's camera case on the trip to U.T. He got worried. What else did his daughter have on her camera? If Ian somehow met up with Kent Dugan, and Simone saw them together, she might have taken their picture with her new telephoto lens, just like she'd taken pictures of JoLynn. He couldn't know unless he looked at all her pictures. And he had to be concerned that others might see any or all of what she'd shot. So he stole the whole friggin' camera.

I stood, put my hands under the cold water and then rested my palms against my warm cheeks. I don't want to bring Estelle into this if I don't have to. I walked slowly back to the kitchen. Maybe I didn't have to reveal how I learned where the other camera might be.

I found Richter and Cooper holding beer glasses when I returned, while Kate was cleaning up after me.

"I realize now that I didn't see Ian here tonight," I said. "He came back from Houston with you, right?"

"Yes. He called Simone right after dinner—which didn't make Adele too happy," Richter said. "He took off right after he spoke with Simone and I assumed she said something that bothered him. She gets to him. Gets to all of us at times."

Cooper said, "Why the interest in Ian?" He knew I wasn't simply making polite conversation.

"I have this gut feeling. Can we act on it without every single piece of evidence in place for once?" I said.

"You suspect Ian of something? That's ridiculous," Richter said.

"Can't hurt to ask him a few questions," Cooper said. "Is this about the camera?"

Richter looked back and forth between us. "Simone's camera? The one I bought for her?"

"Actually, this is about the one she lost. " I walked over and picked up the cordless phone from its spot on the kitchen desk. "Do me a favor, Mr. Richter. Call Simone. Tell her mother or whoever answers that you didn't get to see Simone today and want to say good night."

"What's this about, Abby?" But he took the phone and dialed.

"I'll explain later."

I breathed a sigh of relief when Simone apparently answered and she and her uncle talked briefly before he wished her that good night.

When he disconnected, he said, "I've never done that before. She seemed . . . glad to hear from me. Now, please, what's going on?"

"I wanted to make sure she was safe—and she is," I said.

Cooper was already headed for the door and I grabbed my bag and was on his tail. "Kate, we'll call the two of you when we get this figured out."

"Um, okay . . . sure," I heard her say.

We took Cooper's truck and I gave him the general direction of McFarland's house. I was sure glad he didn't ask me how I knew.

Cooper said, "Is there evidence on the camera Ian took from his daughter?"

"I don't know. But he believed there might be. I'm guessing he thought Simone caught him meeting with Dugan," I said.

" That's what you asked Simone about today—her pictures, about what she saw." Cooper was driving so fast I was holding on to the handle above the passenger door for dear life.

I said, "When Ian called his daughter after dinner, I'm betting she mentioned my visit to her earlier today."

Cooper steered with one hand and unclipped his cell phone from his belt. "And that's why McFarland took off in such a hurry." He flipped open the phone and pressed a speed dial number. "This is Boyd. I need you and the patrol car at Ian McFarland's house. And I need you now ." He paused to listen, then said, "It's on the Richter property. Look it up on a damn map if you have to, Marshall." He closed the phone and looked at me. "I don't know how much more I can take of this job."

Those were probably the longest two miles I've ever gone. What had Ian done? What did he plan to do now? Finally we saw the house lights up ahead. Cooper killed the headlights and slowed his truck to a crawl. "I prefer surprises," he said.

"I'm not sure you could surprise anyone. This road is too noisy."

"Worth a try," he said.

The wide rectangle of light coming from McFarland's open garage door made the last few feet of our trip easy. We stopped right before a giant oleander bush—there was one on either side of the driveway. "Stay in the truck, Abby. Let me ask this guy a few serious questions first."

He reached across me, opened the glove compartment and took out his weapon. Something semiautomatic, but it was impossible to tell the make in the dark.

After he quietly left the truck, not bothering to fully close his door, I took my Lady Smith from my bag and slid across and out the driver's side.

I stayed hidden behind the oleander and saw Cooper with his weapon trained on the door inside the garage that led into the house. The Lexus in the garage had all the doors as well as the trunk open. From the looks of things, someone was taking a trip. And I was betting that someone wasn't coming back anytime soon. Cooper positioned himself beside the front passenger door, maybe eight feet from the entrance to the house.

When Ian McFarland came out into the garage with a box in both hands and saw who was there to greet him, he froze.

"Put down the box and place your hands on your head," Cooper said.

"What's this?" Ian said. "We're playing cops and robbers, are we?"

"Put down the box, Mr. McFarland," Cooper repeated.

"Or what? You'll shoot me?" And then suddenly, McFarland threw the box Cooper's way and whipped a pistol from his waistband. "Why don't I simply take care of this little problem myself?" He raised the gun to his temple.

I felt my stomach drop. I didn't want to witness a man murdering himself. I was sure Cooper didn't, either. I set my Lady Smith on the gravel and stepped out from behind the tall bush.

"Please don't do that," I said.

"Look who's joined the party. How many times have you seen a man make a bloody mess of his head? And I'm using the word bloody in the literal sense, by the way."

"Never saw anyone commit suicide. And I don't want to now," I said.

"Abby," Cooper said slowly, his eyes fixed on McFarland. "Get back in the truck."

No, he didn't know me very well, either.

"Brits aren't big on guns, are they, Ian?" I started walking toward him, my elbows bent, hands so he could see I held no weapon.

"Please, let me handle this," Cooper said in a strained whisper.

I kept my eyes on Ian. "I talked to Simone a long time today. Saw the photos all over her walls, the ones she'd taken. She's talented, Ian. And I'd say half of them were of you."

"That's why I hoped to leave without a word," he

said. "She doesn't need this disaster of a father in her life. Now I have to depart another way."

"And what's your thought process on that?" I said. "You kill yourself and leave us with unanswered questions— leave her devastated. You think she'll want to go off to school then? You think she'll want to pick up a camera when she finds out she might have driven you to this?"

From the corner of my eye, I saw Cooper inching closer to Ian.

"That's ridiculous. It's not her fault," McFarland said. "I was a fool. I had no idea Dugan would try to kill JoLynn when I told him she was trying to con Elliott out of every penny she could get her hands on. Money that belongs to my daughter. Then Dugan comes round looking for her. The idiot. The stupid, stupid idiot ." The gun was wobbling in his hand now, not pressed against his skull.

"How did you find Kent Dugan?" I asked.

"Through JoLynn's cell phone, the one I nicked not long ago. She kept it hidden with a bag of old makeup under her sink. I charged it up and voila` —I had her history."