The Second Son. Joanna Wayne

somewhere.”

      “My truck is out back.” Not stopping for further explanations, he pulled her along, loping over the grass and rounding the back side of the house. The frightening crackle and pungent odor of burning wood dogged their movements.

      Branson stood by the truck, checking out the situation. So far, the flames were contained in the one town house, but if the fire wasn’t extinguished quickly, the blaze could spread to neighboring residences.

      “Who lives next door to your sister? Invalids? Kids? Anyone who would be home during the day?”

      “It’s vacant. It’s been for sale ever since she moved in.”

      He breathed a little easier. At least no one else was in danger. He ran to the front of his truck, jumped into his seat and reached for his cell phone. But someone had beat him to the 911 call. By the time an operator had answered, the scream of sirens was already closing in on them. He broke his connection just as Lacy slid into the passenger seat.

      “Close the door and buckle up. I’d just as soon be gone when the local law officers get here.”

      She reached for the seat belt. “A cop who doesn’t trust cops. I knew there was something I liked about you.”

      “I thought maybe it was because I just saved your life.” He fit the key into the ignition and yanked the gear to reverse. “Besides, I didn’t say that I didn’t trust cops,” he clarified, backing out of the parking space. “I’m just not interested in explaining to them right now why I’m involved in an explosion on their turf.”

      “That’s right. You’re not from around here. Not really a cop either. Cowboy Sheriff Branson Randolph. It has a nice ring to it.” She put three fingers to her temple and massaged. “Or maybe the ringing is just in my head.”

      A fire truck came racing toward them. He stopped to let it pass and then took the first left. “So, are you still up for a trip to the hospital, or would you rather call your new husband and get him to take you?” He pointed to the cell phone that rested on the seat between them. “You’re welcome to use my phone.”

      She offered a tentative smile. “You’re not backing out on me, are you, cowboy? How was it you put it, turning coward?”

      “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