Joanna Wayne - The Second Son

“Why would I?”

“For starters, we almost got killed back there.”

“I doubt seriously the explosion was meant for you. Or do you live there, too?”

“No. Kate lives there with her boyfriend. It’s actually his place.”

Branson kept his eyes on the road, but his concentration was centered on Lacy. He knew that how a person reacted to questions was as important as the answer they gave. “Exactly how much do you know about Kate’s life?”

“Kate’s thirty-three, six years older than I am. I’m not her keeper.”

Avoidance. He wasn’t surprised. A bride still in her wedding dress who wasn’t interested in even calling her husband probably had a few secrets of her own.

“I didn’t mean to offend you with my answer,” she said when he didn’t question her further.

“You didn’t.”

“Something did. You’ve got that hard-as-nails look on your face again, the same one you had when you walked in on me in Kate’s bedroom.”

“I just don’t like playing games when I don’t know the rules or the desired outcome. Someone shot your sister and then blew up the house where she resides. You pretend to be all worried about her, but when I try to help, you evade me with ‘I’m not her keeper.”’

“See. I knew you were offended. But, you see, Sheriff, I don’t know if you’re just the good-old-boy lawman you’re pretending to be or one of the brutal boys I read about in the paper. I don’t know if you’re out to help Kate or arrest her.”

“And what might I be arresting her for?”

“I’m not sure. You’re in the business. You’d think of something.”

“I wouldn’t say her arrests in the past have been all that creative. Writing bad checks. Shoplifting.”

“I never said she was a saint.”

“No, you haven’t said much of anything. If you really want to help your sister, it’s time you did.” He measured his words, wondering what it would take to get through to Lacy. “The stints your sister has done behind bars before would be nothing compared to the sentence she’d get if she were to be convicted on kidnapping charges.”

Her forehead wrinkled. “Kate is not a kidnapper.”

“That’s a start. Is your sister involved in something illegal or just something that could get her killed?”

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, rubbing a spot under her left ear. “I’m sure you aren’t going to believe me, but I really don’t know where that baby came from or who shot Kate. All I know for certain is what you’ve told me, substantiated by the fact that she didn’t show up for my wedding.”

“So your story is that Kate missed the wedding, you came looking for her, and that’s when I hit you with the bad news?”

“Something like that.” She clasped her hands in her lap, nervously entangling her fingers. “Believe me, if I’d known Kate was in the hospital, I’d have been right there beside her.” Lacy turned to face him. “I just wish I had known sooner that Kate had been shot.”

“Even if you’d been at her bedside the whole time, your sister wouldn’t have known it,” he assured her. “She hasn’t been fully conscious since she collapsed at our ranch.”

“But she would have known somehow that I was there. And even if she hadn’t, I would have known.” She reached to the ball of hair on top of her head and started pulling out pins. Shiny auburn curls shook loose, falling around her shoulders, wild and tempestuous. She raked through them with her fingers, but her attempts to tame the tangle were futile.

Branson watched the transformation and then forced himself to look away. No married woman should look that good, especially one sitting in his truck. One he had undressed.

He stuck a finger under the collar of his shirt and tugged it away from his neck. The truck was suddenly way too warm.

Lacy leaned back and closed her eyes. Her muscles were taut, her face strained. She had the look of someone fighting demons in her mind. But were they her demons or Kate’s? Either way, Branson had a strong suspicion that they’d become his demons before this was all over.

And the key to Baby Betsy’s true identity lay somewhere in the muddle of facts and danger surrounding these two women.

LACY CLOSED HER EYES and tried to deal with the problems at hand. Ricky and Kate’s town house going up in smoke. Kate shot and lying in a hospital all alone.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not after she’d agreed to the bargain just to keep Kate safe. Only now she’d broken her bargain with Charles. But only temporarily. She’d have to go back to him. There was no way out.

“We’re about two blocks from the hospital,” Branson announced, breaking into her tormenting thoughts.

Lacy sat up straight and pulled down the visor. There was no mirror. Probably just as well since she didn’t have a comb or even a lipstick on her. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered right now except seeing Kate.

“Do you think they’ll let me see my sister if visiting hours are over?”

“It shouldn’t be a problem. My badge will get us by the front desk, and the floor nurses will be thankful someone in the family is there to visit the patient. You can probably stay the night with her if you like.”

“Yes, I’d like that.” Anything to put off the inevitable confrontation with Charles. He would be livid. But she pushed worries about Charles to the back of her mind the second Branson pulled into the well-lit parking lot.

SEVERAL MINUTES LATER, Lacy and Branson were trotting along behind a tall nurse who had introduced herself as Carol Roust. The intimidating woman had jumped right in and taken control of the situation, insisting she talk to them before Lacy saw Kate.

Lacy was only a step behind her when Carol stopped at the door to the nurses’ lounge. “We can talk in here,” she said, standing back while they entered. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot on the counter. Help yourself if you’d like some.”

Lacy dropped into the nearest chair, nodding yes when Branson poured a cup for himself and offered to pour one for her. Carol declined his offer of the same and took the chair opposite Lacy, crossing her legs.

She waited until Branson joined them at the table before she started talking. “The doctor was here earlier. He said Miss Gilbraith was making a remarkable recovery in every way but one.”

“Which way is that?” Lacy asked.

“She is still not responding to questions or to any attempts to get her to talk. She appears not to be aware that we are in the room with her.”

Branson took a sip of his brew. “So, she’s still in some sort of coma?”

“Not exactly.” The nurse pursed her lips. “Ideally, the doctor should be talking to you about this, but he just left the hospital and I don’t think he’ll be returning tonight. He stressed before he left that any family member visiting Kate be advised of the situation. He wanted you to know about the problem as well, Sheriff.”

“What problem?” Lacy spoke the question quietly, though she wanted to scream it at the nurse. The woman’s passion for melodrama had Lacy’s stomach churning and her patience strained to breaking.

“We think your sister’s inability to respond to verbal stimuli may not be physically induced.” She lay her hands on the table. “To put it bluntly, we think she may be faking.”

Kate, performing? That certainly sounded like the sister Lacy knew and loved. For the first time since she’d heard of Kate’s injury, she felt a little relief.

“That would be a good sign, wouldn’t it, Miss Roust? I mean, if Kate is only faking a coma, then she is recovering in that area as well.”

“Playing games with a hospital’s medical staff is never a good thing, Miss Gilbraith.”