The Rivals (23 page)

Drew hissed in a breath. “Why are a couple of Wyoming oilmen involved in a Texas oil deal?”

“King bought up a lot of mineral leases in Texas when the bottom fell out of the oil industry. He owns just about as much oil—and land—in Texas as he does in Wyoming.”

Drew suddenly realized why Kate Grayhawk might have been taken. Not as a threat against Clay, but as a threat to be used against King. There was no question that Kate was King Grayhawk's granddaughter. If what Clay had told him was true, the old man might have wanted Kate aborted before she was born, but once she'd shown up, he'd claimed her as his progeny.

So what was it Niles Taylor wanted King Grayhawk to do? Get out of the deal? Be quiet about whatever was wrong with it? Give up more of the profits to the consortium—or to Niles himself? The best way to find out was to ask the old man. And the sooner the better.

“I've got someone to see,” Drew said abruptly.

“If I'm not mistaken, that's the waitress with your breakfast,” Morgan said, as the waitress set a plate in front of Drew.

Drew took one long, regretful look at the steaming white gravy with sausage that had been ladled over fluffy homemade biscuits. He knew if he took one bite he'd want to eat it all, and he had a lot to do before the hearing. He shoved the plate aside and said, “How would you like to give me a ride out to Forgotten Valley?”

“Sure. No problem.”

Morgan's rental car turned out to be a four-wheel drive Jeep. It looked like his stepbrother had already done a great deal of back-country driving.

“Where have you been to sling up this much mud?” Drew asked as he eyed the Jeep.

“I took a drive out to the elk refuge at dawn.”

Drew had made the drive north out of town himself a couple of times to watch the elk in the early morning. It wasn't a muddy trip. As he buckled himself into the passenger's seat, Drew eyed his stepbrother, wondering if Morgan himself might be a victim of blackmail.

As Clay's chief of staff in Washington, Morgan wielded a great deal of power. As Clay moved on and became governor of Texas, and eventually president, Morgan would almost certainly go with him as a trusted advisor.

That made Drew's stepbrother a very powerful man, and a potential target for the kind of blackmail scheme that had been tried on Clay.

“Are you in trouble?” Drew asked, as his brother made the turn onto Spring Gulch Road.

Morgan shot Drew a startled glance. “What?”

“Has someone tried to blackmail you? Are you being blackmailed right now?”

Morgan spluttered and laughed. “Are you crazy? What gave you an idea like that?”

“Clay's current predicament,” Drew replied. “It was a set-up, Morgan. Someone wants a hold on Clay and planned to get it by blackmailing him with pictures of him in bed with a dead girl.”

“Is that what Clay told you?”

“I figured it out for myself.”

“That sounds like a pretty elaborate set-up when Clay was only invited to the party yesterday morning,” Morgan said.

“How do you know he was only invited yesterday morning?”

“Niles mentioned it at breakfast,” Morgan said. “Which means that if what Clay says is true, someone set up this intricate blackmail scheme in less than twelve hours. That doesn't make sense to me.”

Drew understood now why Clay prized Morgan's advice. Drew had never looked at it that way. But he knew for a fact that Clay hadn't intended to go to the party on Bear Island before yesterday at breakfast.

“They snatched the girl three months ago,” Drew mused aloud. “She was available on the spur of the moment. They could easily have had the drug handy. All they needed was Clay.”

“And someone to commit the murder,” Morgan pointed out. “Jimmy Joe told me that he didn't see anyone suspicious coming or going from the house. He had a guest list and was checking people off as they came in, which means the murderer was someone who was invited to the party.”

“Or that Jimmy Joe left the door sometime during the night and the murderer walked in without being noticed,” Drew suggested.

“Which sounds more likely,” Morgan agreed. “Although it probably wouldn't hurt to talk to everyone on the guest list.”

“The cops are already on it,” Drew said. But he wondered how cooperative the influential guests had been, considering their high profiles and the fact this was a homicide.

“Here we are,” Morgan said as he pulled up to the back door of the main house at Forgotten Valley.

“You're welcome to stay here,” Drew said.

“Thanks, but I've got a room in town.”

Drew didn't question Morgan further. All the DeWitt kids had their quirks. Needing his own space was one of Morgan's.

“Are you going to be at the bail hearing?” Drew asked.

“Clay will get in touch when he needs me.” Morgan grinned and said, “I hear you're his attorney.”

Drew made a face. “Against all good sense. He keeps telling me it's a done deal, that all I have to do is show up, and he'll be out of jail on bail.”

“I'm betting that's exactly what will happen.”

“I hope you're right,” Drew said as he let himself out of the Jeep. “See you…when?”

“Later,” Morgan said.

Drew watched his stepbrother back up and drive away. He wished they were closer. He wished they saw each other more often, or at least talked on the phone. Drew wasn't in touch with his other step-siblings, either. It was as though they'd all made a pact to disavow the past and live their lives forward, never looking back.

Drew glanced into the garage on his way into the house and saw his foreman had retrieved his fishing boat and pickup. He crossed to the pickup and retrieved his cell phone. And found three messages—all of them from Sarah. He remembered he'd written the number on a pad and left it by the phone in her kitchen last night, with a note to call if she needed him.

He debated whether to call her back. Until he realized all three calls had been made after he'd left her house this morning. After she'd sent him away.

Had something happened? Was she all right? Were the kids all right? Had some new information come in about Tom's murder? Or the charges against Clay?

Drew felt his heart racing as he reached for the button to call Sarah back.

Before he could punch in her number, the phone rang.

Drew had never before been nervous in a courtroom, except perhaps for his first appearance before a judge. He'd also never before represented a client accused of murder. He'd spent time on the phone with Clay's criminal attorney in New York, confirming what he ought to say on Clay's behalf and what Clay ought to say. Drew didn't know why he felt so anxious. He only knew he was.

The hickory benches in the Teton County circuit courtroom were packed with interested spectators, including media and townspeople. More troubling to Drew was the presence of both Jackson Blackthorne and King Grayhawk. He knew from stories Clay had told him just how much the two men hated each other. He knew King wanted to keep Clay in jail. Drew only hoped Blackjack had as much sway with the circuit court judge as Clay had said his father did.

Clay sat beside Drew at the defendant's table dressed in a dark gray wool-blend suit Drew had brought to him, with a crisply starched white shirt and a subdued tie. He looked like the influential and respectable political figure he was. What amazed Drew was the total lack of concern in his cousin's demeanor.

“You look like you're here as a spectator, rather than the defendant,” he said to Clay.

Clay smiled, an easy, confident smile, and said, “That's because I know I'm innocent.”

“Lots of innocent men have gone to jail,” Drew retorted.

“Once I'm out of here,” Clay said, “you and I are going to get together with Detective Barndollar and figure out who the real murderer is.”

Drew groaned.

“What's wrong?” Clay asked.

“Nothing that can't be fixed.” Clay's mention of Sarah had reminded Drew that he'd never returned her three calls. Clay's high-priced New York attorney had called immediately after Drew had seen the notice of Sarah's calls and kept him on the phone so long that he'd neither called Sarah back nor sought out King Grayhawk. He'd raced just to get showered and dressed for court.

Whatever Sarah wanted to talk about must have been important, or she wouldn't have called three times. Now that he had time to think about it, that niggling worry was back. Was she all right? Were the kids all right? He needed to know why she'd called.

As he reached for his cell phone, the excited hum in the background was replaced by scraping feet and rustling clothes as the bailiff said, “All rise.”

“That's not Judge Wilkerson,” Clay said under his breath.

One of the part-time magistrates entered the courtroom and took a seat at the bench, which was on a raised dais angled in the corner of the courtroom. Drew heard the ripple of excitement run through the crowd as everyone realized a substitution had been made.

“Be seated,” the judge said. “I'm Judge Warner. Judge Wilkerson has recused himself because of a close relationship to the defendant through his father.”

Drew heard a buzzing in his ears. He'd known things would go to hell. He just hadn't been sure how it would happen. He glanced at Clay, whose head was turned and whose eyes were locked with his father's.

Drew turned his own gaze across the courtroom and saw the smug look on King Grayhawk's face. Apparently King had done a little wheeling and dealing of his own overnight.

The district attorney rose and began his presentation, in very short order coming to precisely the conclusion Drew had expected. “The state believes there is a significant risk of flight if the defendant is released on bail, and therefore asks that bail be denied.”

Drew wiped his sweaty hands on his suit trousers under the table as he listened to the DA list the reasons why he believed flight to be a possibility, ending with, “The defendant has a personal jet waiting at the airport as we speak.”

The judge called on Drew to speak next.

Drew made all the arguments he'd discussed with Clay's high-priced New York criminal attorney, wishing with his heart and soul that Clay had been wise enough to wait, or that he'd been a big enough bastard to refuse to help his cousin. Because he knew, as sure as hogs made bacon, what was going to happen the instant he sat down.

“Bail is denied,” the magistrate said.

The courtroom erupted, with the media running for the doors to file their stories, while a deputy put handcuffs on Clay and led him away. Drew had to hand it to his cousin. Clay's face never showed one bit of the fury Drew was sure he felt.

Drew heard low, angry voices and turned to find King and Blackjack faced off behind him in the nearly empty courtroom.

“Told you I'd get him one day,” King said viciously. “You can kiss good-bye any hopes you ever had of that bastard son of yours becoming president.”

“My son only took what your daughter freely offered,” Blackjack shot back. “If a bitch wags her tail hard enough, she'll get what she's asking for.”

Drew heard a gasp and realized it had come from behind Blackjack.

“Dammit all to hell!” Blackjack said, as he took a step aside and revealed Libby Grayhawk. “Didn't realize you were standing back there, girl.”

Libby's face was ashen.

Drew wondered how Libby Grayhawk had ended up on the Blackthorne side of the courtroom. Then he saw Jocelyn Montrose and realized Libby must have brought her house guest here this morning and stayed by her side out of courtesy.

“I need to be getting home,” Libby said. Drew saw her hands were shaking as she pulled on her coat.

Before she could leave, Blackjack's wife Ren slid an arm through Libby's and said, “My husband wants to apologize first.”

Drew watched the ice melt in Blackjack's cold gray eyes as his wife looked up at him.

“I'm sorry, Ms. Grayhawk,” Blackjack said. “That was discourteous of me.”

King Grayhawk laughed. It wasn't a nice sound. “Easy to see who wears the pants in your family.”

“Shut up, Daddy,” Libby said matter-of-factly. She turned to Blackjack and said, “Thank you, Mr. Blackthorne. I do need to get home. There are chores to do.” She turned to the elegant woman at her side and said, “Do you want to come with me, Jocelyn?”

“But of course,” Jocelyn said.

When Libby and Jocelyn were gone, Blackjack turned back to King and said, “I know other judges.”

“So do I,” King said. “That boy of yours is going to stay behind bars till hell freezes over.”

“Clay can take care of himself,” Blackjack said. “I want to know what you've done with Kate. Where's my granddaughter?”

For the first time King looked rattled. His shoulders lost their stiffness and his complexion turned ashy. “I don't have her. I wish to God I did.”

“You mean to say you have no idea—”

“I told you I don't!” King interrupted. “I've got every hand on my spread out looking for her. No one knows where she is. She's just plain disappeared. When I get my hands on the sonofabitch who took her—”

“Vengeance is going to be cold comfort if Kate turns up dead,” Blackjack said brutally.

King looked stricken. “I'm doing everything in my power—”

“Maybe this is going to take both of us…working together,” Blackjack said.

Drew expected King to come back with another malicious retort, but the old man said, “I'm willing to call a truce if you are. We can pick up our guns again when Kate is safe.”

Drew felt like gasping himself, as Blackjack extended his hand and King Grayhawk clasped it.

“Till Kate is found,” King said.

“Till Kate is found,” Blackjack repeated.

Drew hadn't realized either man was aware of him until Blackjack turned to him and said, “What information can you give us about who might have taken Kate?”

Drew found himself the focus of all eyes. He glanced at King Grayhawk, then at Blackjack and said, “I do have a theory about why she might have been taken.”

“Speak up, man,” King said.

“Are you involved in an oil consortium doing a deal with the Japanese?” Drew asked King.

“I backed out of that.” King turned to Blackjack and said, “Heard that boy of yours was investigating the deal, so I took a closer look at it myself. Didn't like what I found.”

“When did you back out?” Drew said.

King lifted his Stetson, scratched his head, smoothed his hair and tugged his Stetson back down low on his forehead. “Two weeks ago, maybe.”

“Have you been getting any pressure from anyone to get back in?”

“Are you suggesting Niles Taylor and that gang are responsible for Kate's disappearance?” King said. “Because if you are—”

“Have you been getting pressure from anyone to get back in the Japanese deal?” Drew said impatiently.

“I got a call from…” King turned to Blackjack and said, “You and I need to talk.”

“The police—” Drew began.

“No need to involve a bunch of Barney Fifes,” King said, cutting him off. “I can handle this.”

King glanced at Blackjack, who turned to Drew and said, “The two of us certainly can.”

“What about Clay?” Drew asked Blackjack.

“Clay isn't going anywhere,” Blackjack said with a sardonic twist of his mouth. “I'm sure he'd appreciate anything you can do to help him find out who killed that young woman.”

“I want to be there when you talk to Taylor,” Drew said.

Blackjack glanced at King, who nodded, then said, “All right. I'll give you a call.” He slipped an arm around Ren's shoulder, gestured King down the courtroom aisle and said, “Shall we go?”

Drew's jaw was agape as he watched the two powerful enemies stride away like old friends. Men who'd grown up on the Western frontier were definitely a different breed. In order to survive, they'd learned to set aside their personal animosity to fight mutual enemies—the Sioux or the Blackfoot or natural disasters—knowing they could fight each other at a more convenient time.

He'd never expected to see two lifelong rivals join hands to work together. But to save their granddaughter, they had.

He only hoped King and Blackjack would succeed. An image formed in his mind of Jackson Blackthorne throttling Niles Taylor and he smiled grimly. The man would talk, all right.

Drew was closing his briefcase when he saw movement from the corner of his eye. He looked up and caught his breath at the sight of Sarah Barndollar. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered. Probably because he saw her now as forbidden fruit. He'd walked away. He meant to stay away. Better not to be nice. Better to put a fence up before she closed the distance between them.

“Don't you ever take a day off?” he said, letting his irritation that she was off-limits come out in his voice.

He watched her chin come up pugnaciously before she said, “I left three messages for you this morning. You never called me back.”

“Oh, shit.” He'd forgotten. Again. “I'm sorry. I was going to call you but—”

“I got an anonymous call from a man who said he'd been blackmailed the same way someone attempted to blackmail Clay.”

Drew froze in the act of shutting his briefcase. “Does he know who's at the bottom of this?”

“He suggested a place where he thought the kidnapped girls might be held. I thought you might want to come along.”

“You're not calling in the cavalry?” Drew asked.

“I'm on administrative leave,” Sarah said. “If I call it in, my sergeant will assign someone else to check it out. Besides, I'm not sure it's a legitimate lead. I'd rather take a look myself first. I can always call in help later, if I need it.”

“I'm glad you came to me,” Drew said as he snapped his briefcase closed. “How are we getting there?”

“We'll need to ski up Game Creek Canyon,” she said.

Drew hesitated. “This place is near the top, I suppose.”

“Where else?” Sarah said with a smile.

Game Creek Canyon was another place he hadn't skied much since he'd been buried under five feet of snow at 25 Short—because it was one of those places where avalanche was always a danger.

But Kate might be up there somewhere. And Sarah had asked for his help.

“I'll need to stop by my place to change clothes and get some gear,” he said.

“Thanks, Drew,” Sarah said. “I'd like to take my Tahoe, in case I need to use the radio to call for help later.” She followed him outside and said, “I can give you a ride to your place, if you like, and we can go from there.”

The few flakes of snow Drew had seen first thing in the morning had become a full-fledged snowstorm. “Not the best weather to be heading up into Game Creek Canyon,” he said.

“I don't want to wait.”

Drew could understand Sarah's urgency, but he couldn't help wondering how they were going to see to get where they were going. He didn't want to think about the very real possibility of an avalanche, if it kept snowing this hard and the wind kept blowing.

“Who's taking care of the kids while you ride to Kate's rescue?” Drew asked as Sarah turned onto Spring Gulch Road.

“Nate and Brooke can take care of themselves,” Sarah replied. “They both look after Ryan.” She glanced at him and said, “I didn't want to leave them alone so soon after last night. But Brooke overheard me talking on the phone with that anonymous caller and mentioned it to Nate. The kids want me to do whatever I can to find the man responsible for their father's murder.”

“They're amazing kids,” Drew said.

“They're normal kids,” Sarah countered. “They have their good days and their bad days. They'll always miss their father.”

“Will you miss him?” Drew could have bitten out his tongue for asking such a revealing question, for which the answer was obvious.

“I'm glad to know he didn't run away from us,” Sarah said soberly. “From me. We'd argued that last morning. Tom didn't want me to work such long hours. He wanted me to spend more time with him and the kids.”

Drew wasn't sure what to say. He settled for, “That sounds reasonable.”