Jasmine Cresswell - Missing

Liam turned his attention back to Megan. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner, squirt.”

“That’s okay—”

“No, it’s not. As usual, I was unavailable when you needed me.” He took off his tie and shoved it in the pocket of his suit jacket. “I wasn’t ignoring you, Meg.”

“It never occurred to me that you were. When I didn’t hear from you last night, I assumed you weren’t home.”

“You were right. I didn’t get your message until this morning. Then I had to reschedule my court appearances for the next few days before I could leave Denver. I tried to call on my way to the airport, but the ranch phone was constantly busy and your cell number kept switching me to voice mail.”

“I took the ranch phones off the hook because I got tired of telling reporters that I had nothing to say, and cell phones still don’t work out here so I can’t pick up my messages.”

Megan asked no questions about Liam’s absence the previous night, although she could make a pretty good guess as to why he’d been away from home. If her brother had been running true to recent form, he’d spent the night with some gorgeous woman he would almost certainly never see again.

In high school, Liam had been a jock more interested in football and skiing than girls. During the entire seven years he spent in college and law school, he’d dated no more than half a dozen different women. Then he’d moved to Denver, taken the bar exam and joined a partnership of criminal-defense attorneys. He’d gone out with a fellow lawyer for over a year and Megan had expected to hear at any minute that the two of them were engaged. Instead, their relationship abruptly ended. Overnight, Liam seemed to acquire the ambition to have sex with every attractive single woman in the state of Colorado. Megan wished he could find a woman he liked enough to settle down, but since her own relationships seemed to have all the depth and staying power of wet tissues, she wasn’t exactly in a position to criticize.

“I hoped the ranch might be too far off the beaten track for TV crews to waste time driving out here.” Liam leaned into the rental car and took out a soft leather duffel bag. With a skill acquired in childhood, he stuck out his foot and blocked the dogs from jumping into the backseat. “Obviously I underestimated the news appeal of Dad’s disappearance.”

“It’s not just the fact that he’s disappeared. It’s the fact that he was a bigamist. You don’t get too many of those nowadays.” Megan stopped Bruno from chasing a rabbit by scratching the precise spot behind his ears that guaranteed to make him squirm in ecstasy.

Liam pulled a face. “Just how bad have the reporters been?”

She gave a short, hard laugh. “Somewhere north of rabid. A crew from Channel Six drove down from Jackson Hole within a couple of hours of our hearing the news. The producer demanded an exclusive interview. He informed me that we owed him an interview because Channel Six is our local station and the people of Wyoming have a right to know how Mom feels about Dad’s other wife and daughter!”

Liam muttered an expletive beneath his breath. “I trust you told him precisely where he could shove his demands.”

“I sure did, for all the good it did me. The crew from Jackson Hole was only the first, and not even the most pushy. I’ve developed a whole new sympathy for movie stars who punch out paparazzi. Living with these people in your face 24/7 would be enough to drive anyone crazy.”

“Since you’ve been sweeping reporters off the front porch all day long, I guess you won’t be too surprised to hear that when I drove into the ranch a roving camera crew was busy setting up shop at the entrance gates.”

Megan sighed. “Not surprised, just sick to death of having to deal with them. I finally called Harry a couple of hours ago and asked for help. He came right out, thank God, and ordered them to clear off our land. Unfortunately, I guess there’s no way to stop people parking on the public road outside the boundary fences.” She shaded her eyes from the sun and stared down the long driveway. “I don’t see anyone coming.”

“Hopefully we won’t. I told the crew I was the family lawyer and threatened to have them arrested for trespassing if they drove so much as their front wheels onto ranch property. They seemed to listen.”

“Maybe they’ll get bored and go away if there’s no activity.”

“In your dreams.” Liam clearly didn’t think there was a chance in hell that the reporters would leave.

“The neighbors might refuse to talk.” Megan was more wistful than optimistic. “They’re a pretty nice bunch of people and they don’t have much patience for big-city folk.”

“Yeah, but there’s always one neighbor who’s dying to see himself on TV and won’t care what lies he needs to invent as long as his story gets him on camera.”

“You’re probably right. Unfortunately.”

“Count on it. And even if the reporters can’t squeeze any good copy out of our neighbors, you can bet Dad’s other family in Chicago will have plenty of so-called friends who are only too willing to gossip for the cameras.”

Megan shrugged. “Personally, I’d be thrilled if the media gave up on us and fixated on them. At least Mom would be left in peace.”

Liam sent her a sympathetic glance. “They’re victims, too, you know.”

She sighed. “I know. One day I may start to empathize with them, but right now I can’t. There’ve been too many shocking revelations and too little time to absorb them.” Megan was reluctantly fascinated by the idea that she had a half sister, but she wasn’t yet ready to cope with the tumultuous emotions precipitated by her existence.

“Have you seen pictures of them?” The question was torn from her against her better judgment. She’d been loath to switch on the TV today not only for fear of seeing herself and the ranch house plastered all over the airwaves but even more for fear of being inundated with images of her father’s other family.

Liam nodded. “You can’t avoid seeing them. The story of Dad’s disappearance was the lead story on every channel when I walked through the airports in Denver and Jackson Hole.”

Megan grimaced. “Complete with pictures of the ranch, I suppose?”

“’Fraid so. Along with endless shots of the penthouse in downtown Chicago where Dad’s other wife apparently lives. The media are fascinated by the contrast between the two homes.”

Megan drew in a quick breath. “I don’t mind being portrayed as a country bumpkin if that means the journalists get bored with us sooner.”

“That’s good, because they already have you and Mom typecast as exactly that. Apparently Avery Fairfax is big on the social scene in Chicago—she’s chaired several important charity events and the TV stations have photos and file footage of her looking incredibly sophisticated and glamorous. Mom comes off sounding as if she’s Mrs. Homebody from 1950. It makes for great copy and who cares if there’s no truth to the images they’re creating?”

“In a way, the distortions protect Mom’s privacy, so I’m not sure she’ll mind.”

“Maybe not. Although the cable news channels keep mentioning the fact that the penthouse where Avery and Kate are living is currently valued at six point five million dollars, whereas Mom’s house would probably sell for less than fifty thousand. That might irritate her somewhat.”

Megan brushed the information aside. “Thank goodness the journalists don’t dig deep with their research. The truth is, some resort-development company offered Mom more than a million dollars for the Flying W land only a couple of months ago.”

Liam didn’t look impressed. “A million dollars for six thousand acres, as opposed to six point five million dollars for five thousand square feet of Avery’s penthouse. That would pretty much piss me off if I were Mom.”