“A smart woman like yourself, a journalist, I would have thought you’d have figured it out by now. Didn’t you ask yourself who the father of that baby might have been?” She felt a hard knot form in her stomach from the way he was looking at her—as if he were about to spring something on her that she didn’t want to hear.

  “It’s a story as old as time. Jasper must pay for the sins of his father.” His voice broke with an anger she suspected had been building for years. “The father of her baby was William Cole, Jasper’s father,” Ethan said with a wave of the journal. “It’s all in here. My mother’s confession.”

  * * *

  EARL RAY GOT the call shortly after Bessie had gone to the café to get her famous cinnamon rolls started. He’d made her promise to save him one. Today, he was determined to finish the last-minute things that had to be done before they moved into the house.

  Heart lodged in his throat, he took the call. For weeks, he’d waited and hoped that one of his contacts would be calling with good news about his daughter. He didn’t doubt that Tory had covered her tracks. But he was now fairly certain that the baby had been born here in Buckhorn—delivered by Thelma Rose—because of what her son had told him.

  What had happened to the infant after that, though, was anyone’s guess. Thelma Rose would have detailed the pregnancy in her county home nurse’s journal that she kept. But had she told anyone about the birth? Had Ethan Ford just kept that part from him out of meanness? Or hadn’t the man known?

  Then yesterday, he’d gotten a call from the private investigator he’d hired.

  “I have a lead,” PI Edmond Voss had told him. “It’s tentative so I hate to get your hopes up. I’m traveling to Houston today. I’ll call you tomorrow once I know something more.”

  “Did you find her?” Earl Ray asked into the phone now, his pulse racing. Somewhere, he had a daughter who would be about thirty years old. She could be married with children of her own. He’d used all his available resources and come up with nothing. Desperate, he’d hired a private investigator he’d used before.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Caulfield,” a woman said on the other end. “I’m Edmond’s secretary Margaret Brewer. I’m afraid I’m calling with some bad news.” She explained that Edmond has been killed in a hit-and-run accident in Houston Heights.

  “No,” Earl Ray said in shock. “Is that all the information you have?”

  “There was an eyewitness who saw the vehicle and man who ran him down,” she said, stopping to blow her nose. “I’m sorry. It’s just so upsetting. Apparently, the driver stopped after running him down and took Edmond’s briefcase before speeding away. The police are investigating it.”

  “You know he was working on a case for me.”

  “I do, but when I spoke with him after he reached Houston, he hadn’t learned anything new. He was only then following up the lead. I’m so sorry. I’m sure any information would have been in his briefcase.”

  “I’m the one who’s sorry. Edmond was a fine man. My condolences.”

  Earl Ray felt an icy chill at the news. The killer now had what information Edmond had gathered on the case—and Earl Ray’s and Tory’s DNA that he’d provided for the PI. This had been no accident. Someone was determined to keep him from finding his daughter.

  “Tory, my God, what have you done?” he cried as he hung up the phone. “What kind of people did you get involved with?” The kind of people who didn’t want their past exposed even after all these years. He shuddered at the thought. “Who did you give our daughter to?”

  * * *

  DARBY FELT THE stale air stir as Ethan waved the journal angrily at her, an unpleasant scent coming with it.

  “That’s right,” Ethan cried. “It was Jasper’s father! He and my mother!”

  She wanted to argue that it couldn’t be true. But from what little she knew of Jasper’s parents, they had unexpectedly taken him away when he was five. Had he known why?

  “Your mother wrote about it in her journal?” she asked, trying not to show her disbelief. Ethan had only one side of the story.

  “She wrote down everything. She was obsessive that way. Every secret. Every dirty little detail this town had ever had because my mother was the kind of woman people confided in. When they were in pain. When they were filled with gratitude. They repaid her with truths about themselves and others. They confessed their sins. And she put it all in her book as if it could save their souls.”

  “Including about her own life? Did she write down how she felt about William?” She could see from his expression that she had. “She was in love with him.”

  “He bewitched her into thinking it was love,” Ethan cried. “She would never have gone with a married man. They were going to run away together.”

  “Why didn’t they?” she asked, the words almost on a whisper.

  He shook his head. “She pretended that she was fine. That her heart wasn’t broken, but I could tell by her writing...” He seemed overwhelmed with emotion. “She could have let me die. The doctors said I would never survive at such a low birth weight. But she fed me with an eyedropper, determined that I would live.”

  Darby knew that Ethan hadn’t been with his mother when she’d come to Buckhorn. He must have seen the question in her expression.

  “It was only when I needed surgery for my heart defect that she had to let me go. She didn’t have the money and the hospital wouldn’t do the surgery unless...unless...” He looked away. “She left me on the hospital doorstep with a note. She never forgave herself. It’s all in her journal. She swore she would never have another child that she might lose. And then William Cole came along.”

  “So, she made a choice to have his child even though she knew it would probably kill her.”

  “He was married!” Ethan screamed the words at her. “He found out about the pregnancy and left her to die with his child!”

  * * *

  DARBY STARED AT ETHAN. “Your mother detailed in her journal why he left?” she asked and saw his expression change. Thelma Rose had, but still Ethan blamed the Cole family—including Jasper. “Was she the one who broke it off?”

  “Because she knew this baby was going to kill her because of him!”

  She remembered what Earl Ray had told him about Ethan’s son facing the death penalty in Texas. “You must have been planning this for years. But why now? Is it because of your son’s death sentence?”

  His face contorted into raw pain for a moment. “You really have done your homework, haven’t you? It would be a shame if you didn’t have the whole story now, wouldn’t it?”

  Darby could feel the phone in her pocket. She’d gotten what she’d come for. He’d admitted that he had framed Jasper for Aiden’s murder. But she realized she didn’t have everything as she looked at the journal in the man’s hand. “Is what happened to Earl Ray’s baby in there?”

  Ethan smiled. “The only record of his precious daughter. If I were to destroy this journal, he would never know. He’d never be able to find her. Ever.” His smile vanished in an instant. “The journal is yours. But first there is something I need to show you. Unless you’ve changed your mind about getting the whole story from me. In that case, you’re welcome to leave. I’ll be happy to unlock the door and let you walk out. But you won’t be taking the journal. I will destroy it the moment you walk out that door.”

  She swallowed and hesitated. She needed that journal and not just for the marshal to prove what Ethan Ford had done, but for Earl Ray so he could find his daughter. She’d come here to get to the truth. Was she willing to walk away now? Ethan would be gone after midnight and the journal with him—if he didn’t destroy it as he’d threatened.

  “You promise to give me the journal after I see whatever it is you need me to see?” she asked, even as her instincts told her that she couldn’t trust him. Shouldn’t.

  “I promise,” he said. He again motioned for her to lead the way out the back door. She stepped past him, telling herself that nothing was going to happen to her. Any number of people could have seen her come inside the shop. Jasper would come looking for her soon if he wasn’t already on his way.

  As she stepped through the door, she thought she heard him unlock the front door of the shop. Because he was finished there and never coming back? Or because he wanted to make it easy for Jasper to get in. She realized Ethan Ford was planning on Jasper showing up.

  The truck was parked directly behind the shop like it always was. She started walking along the side of it when she saw something that made her stumble. There was a large wooden box behind the truck. She told herself that he had probably packed items from the shop in it. The box sat at the rear of the vehicle on what appeared to be a hoist to load it up onto the truck bed.

  But as she drew closer, she saw with surprise that it was empty. What struck her like an arrow to her chest was the size of the box. Coffin-sized.

  Darby felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. Goose bumps rippled over her skin. She was starting to turn to look back at Ethan when she realized he was right behind her. He was so close that he hardly had to move to hit her.

  The blow made her stagger. She crashed into the side of the truck, careening off to fall to her knees on the ground just inches from the wooden box. Her vision blurred and then darkened. She fought not to pass out as she tried to stagger to her feet.

  Ethan moved swiftly to her, surprising her with his speed as well as his strength. He swept her up in his arms and carried her the few steps to lay her down in the box. Still fighting to stay conscious, she grabbed hold of the black coat he wore and tried to pull herself up. He tore her fingers away and took her purse with her gun and cell phone inside.

  She hadn’t realized that she was screaming until the sound stopped when he punched her again. Her head fell back, hitting the wood hard. Gasping, she tried to rise, but he was already sliding the lid onto the top of the box. Not a box. A coffin—just as she’d feared.

  Suddenly, she was in total darkness. She tried to push the lid off even as she heard him hammering in the first nail. But the lid wouldn’t budge and she realized he was crawling around on top of it, driving in nails. Her screams were more like muffled gasps that echoed back at her.

  “No one can hear you,” he said in that low voice of his.

  She felt her flesh crawl. It was as if he had his lips next to her ear. “No please,” she whispered. “Please.”

  “I’m disappointed. I’d hoped Jasper would be stopping by. Odd. Maybe he doesn’t love you as much as you thought. Too bad. I hate for you to die alone, especially now that you know almost everything. I guess you’ll never know about Earl Ray’s daughter. Don’t worry, I’ll keep my word. I’ll give you my mother’s journal. I’m finished with it. Unfortunately, I’m not sure you’ll be able to read it in there before I start to shovel dirt on top.”

  “No!” she cried, terrified as she imagined the sound of dirt falling on the wood over her head.

  She heard him hammer in the last nail. A motor whirred to life, and she was being lifted into the back of the truck.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “WHAT TIME IS IT?” Jasper asked from the back of the SUV patrol car as the marshal started the engine and headed away from the ranch.

  “Eight thirty-five.” The marshal had left him in the back of the patrol car while he talked to his deputies and took a couple of calls.

  Jasper swore now and began to talk quickly, desperately. “Darby has gone to Gossip to confront Leviathan Nash, who we now know is really Ethan Ford. The man blames this town for his mother’s death. He blames my grandmother. Ethan only invited Darby to the shop to get even with me. She’s in terrible trouble.”

  “Take it easy,” the marshal warned him as Jasper moved closer to the partition between them.

  “Come on, Leroy, you know I didn’t kill Aiden Moss. I’m being set up for this,” Jasper cried. “You really think I’d keep a baseball bat I used to kill someone in my barn? A bat still covered with the blood of my victim?”

  The marshal sighed. “You know I have to take you in. The car was found near your ranch, the murder weapon in your barn. I don’t think you should say anything more until you talk to an attorney.”

  “I don’t care about me. Darby’s walking into a trap. At least stop at Gossip and make sure she’s all right. If you really believe I’m guilty of the murder, then arrest her. She had to have helped me, right? Leroy, do it before something horrible happens to her. You know Ethan Ford is behind everything that’s been going on in Buckhorn. His lease is up tonight at midnight. This is his last chance to get even.”

  The marshal turned onto the highway and started toward Buckhorn. He glanced back at Jasper. “I’ll stop at Gossip, okay?”

  Jasper couldn’t believe the relief that flooded him. He sat back and tried to breathe. “Thank you. Please hurry.”

  The marshal glanced in the rearview mirror at Jasper again before he turned on his lights and siren.

  Praying it wasn’t too late, Jasper fought the fear that wanted to overtake him as they sped the rest of the way into town. If they could just get there in time. He’d never been so happy to see Buckhorn come into view.

  * * *

  AS THE ENGINE started up and the truck began to move, Darby felt her fear escalate. Her head ached, the skin around her eye burning from where he’d hit her. She blinked back tears and tried to pull herself together.

  She had no idea how much air she had left before she would suffocate. Just the thought had her gasping for oxygen. “Calm down,” she said to herself in the darkness and was slammed against the side of the box as the truck hit a bump in the road. “Think. Stop panicking.”

  Easy to say, but so hard to do. Still, she managed to breathe more naturally. She had no idea where he was taking her. But she had a pretty good idea what would happen when they got there. That thought sent her pulse climbing even higher. “Stop,” she warned herself. “Panicking is doing you no good at all.”

  She thought about the construction of the box. She’d already tried to push the top off. How many nails had he put in it? Not that many. Did that mean he planned to open it at some point? To let her go?

  Doubtful. No, she would have to get away on her own. She tried to get her feet up to kick at the lid of the box but there wasn’t enough room to get leverage.

  Sliding down some, she bent her knees as much as she could and kicked hard. She tried again and again and felt it give a little, bringing a flood of hope.

  The truck slowed. She stopped kicking to listen as he turned onto what felt like a gravel road. The rough road made her bounce around more inside the box. She wedged herself in as best as she could to make the most impact on the end of the box at her feet—and kept kicking. She heard the wood rend as it tore away from a nail.

  Her heart soared. She kicked even harder, feeling the bottom left side give a little. She put all her effort into the top left corner and kicked. Darby realized that she was breathing hard from the exertion. Too hard. She felt a little dizzy, as if she were suffocating.

  But she couldn’t stop. If she could kick the end free, she’d have air. If she could push her way out of the box...

  The truck slowed and turned again. Her pulse pounded in her ears as her stomach dropped. They must be getting close to where he was taking her. She kicked harder, more desperate as she felt not just her air running out—but time itself.

  More wood splintered as she put every ounce of strength she had into kicking the end panel free. She could feel air leaking in through the narrow opening she’d made. Only a few more kicks—

  The truck stopped. The engine died. The driver’s-side door groaned open. Time was up.

  * * *

  THE MARSHAL CAME to a stop in front of the old carriage house and climbed out to head toward Gossip. Jasper could only watch from the back of the patrol car as the marshal reached the front door, turned the knob and the door opened. Even from where Jasper sat, he could see that the place had already been cleaned out and was empty.

  “Darby? Leviathan?” He could hear Leroy calling the names as he moved through the shop and opened the back door. Jasper could see that the old truck was gone—just as he’d feared. He closed his eyes, the pain like a spike drilling into his skull. Darby was gone. They both were gone. He and the marshal were too late.

  Leroy came back to the patrol SUV only to walk past it to head across the street to Darby’s office. He returned almost at once and climbed behind the wheel. He reached for his radio and put a BOLO out on Leviathan Nash, his truck and Darby Fulton.

  Jasper fought to breathe. Leroy’s radio squawked. Jasper listened, his heart in his throat, praying for news on Darby—and yet terrified to hear it because on the marshal’s radio it would have to be bad.

  But the news wasn’t about Darby. A homeless man had been arrested for an attempted mugging at a truck stop not far from Buckhorn. The man had several wallets on him, including Aiden Moss’s. Also, he was wearing bloody clothing.

  “That’s your man,” Jasper said, even though he knew that until the clothing could be analyzed and the man questioned, he was still under arrest. “I need you to let me go, Leroy. I need to find Darby before it’s too late.”

  The marshal looked at him as if he thought it might already be too late. “I have a BOLO out on them both. There’s only one highway out of town. It’s just a matter of time before—”