Texas Gun Smoke. Joanna Wayne

Jaime and Jaclyn?” Bart asked, alarmed that Jaime might be somewhere bombarding her with questions.

      “Jaime went into town with a couple of her girlfriends,” Lenora said. “Jaclyn seemed tired, so I suggested she go upstairs and get some rest. She seemed grateful for the offer.”

      “That’s probably a good idea,” Bart agreed, hating the disappointment that he hadn’t gotten to tell her good-night.

      “She’s really worried about her friend,” Becky said. “She didn’t say much, but I could hear it in her voice when she talked about the police blowing off her concerns.”

      Lenora stood and walked over to where Bart was standing. “I don’t know how the police can do that. I know the area’s had a hard time coming back after Katrina and that the police have their hands full with the upswing in crime, but surely they could have at least questioned people about her disappearance.”

      “It’s hard to say what they were thinking or what they’ve actually done,” Bart said, “but I think the situation deserves better than it’s getting.”

      “I’m not sure you’re getting involved in this is a good idea, Bart.”

      He dropped an arm around his mother’s shoulders. “Aren’t you the one who always says that the Lord expects us to reach out to those in need?”

      “Don’t twist my words around, Bart. Jaclyn needs police assistance, and you’re not in law enforcement.”

      “I’ve seen all the episodes of Law & Order.”

      “This isn’t a joking matter.”

      He knew that all too well. “I don’t plan on doing anything stupid or reckless. I’ll be fine, Mom. Now tell me about your day,” he said, eager to change the subject. “Langston says you’re researching the possibility of child care for the employees of Collingsworth Oil who have young children.”

      She clearly wasn’t convinced his going to New Orleans with Jaclyn was a good idea, but she was eager to talk about her plans. He listened a good fifteen minutes, then excused himself to go back to his place and get some sleep.

      He was walking through his front door when he got a call from Aidan Jefferies.

      “I hate to call you this late, but I’ve been out at the crime scene of an armed robbery at a convenience store in southeast Houston. The clerk was shot twice in the head, but we’ve got a good lead on the perp. Anyway, I’d asked one of the young recruits to see what he could find on Jaclyn Mc-Gregor, since that was the name given by the woman who reported Margo Kite’s disappearance.”

      “What did he find?”

      “A good reason for you to say adios.”

      Bart’s blood boiled as he listened to the details of Jaclyn’s recent past. He swallowed the curses that flew to mind as he thanked Aidan and headed back to his car. He had a few words for Jaclyn, and they wouldn’t wait until morning.

      Chapter Five

      Jaclyn had retired to her room at the Collingsworths’ early, but not because she was exhausted, as she’d claimed. The family camaraderie and familiarity had made her increasingly uneasy. They had tried to make her feel welcome, but that was only because they didn’t know the real Jaclyn McGregor.

      So she’d escaped to the guest room and sat here alone. Voices had drifted from downstairs for a while, but it was quiet now, and when she’d heard a truck leaving earlier, she’d looked out the window and seen that it was Bart.

      He’d be back at his house by the pond by now, probably with his window open so that the drone of the crickets and the rustle of leaves dancing in the breeze lulled him into a sound sleep. All was well at Jack’s Bluff.

      But all was not well with Margo. Jaclyn usually managed to hold on to her optimism during the day. But when night came, there was no holding back the nightmarish possibilities that crept into her mind. No one understood her certainty that Margo was in trouble, but she knew it as surely as she knew that day would follow night—or that Bart would soon find out about her past and drop her, possibly even en route back to New Orleans.

      Jaclyn slipped her shirt over her head and dropped it to the bed, then reached behind her to unsnap her bra. She may as well grab a shower and try to get some sleep. She hadn’t brought pajamas with her, but there were white chenille guest robes in the closet, so she’d slip on one of them to traipse to the bathroom just down the hall.