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  Charlie jumped to her feet as soon as she spotted him. “I’ll clean it up.”

  “Why? Aren’t we eating in the kitchen?” It seemed like she was right in the middle of whatever she was doing and it didn’t make sense to put away all her materials only to drag them out again. “What are you making?” He stepped closer to have a look.

  “It’s a slipcover for that sofa we moved today.” She began clearing off the table.

  He gently touched her arm. “Just leave it. That way you can come back to it without having to set everything up again.” Compared to the boys’ projects, hers was neat and organized. “You had all this stuff in your car?”

  “Everything but the fabric. I met a seamstress today…Wren, I think her name was…when I took Grady to soccer practice after school. She has a little shop near the field.”

  “Sew What,” he said. “I know the place.”

  “She told me about this great fabric store in Grass Valley. After soccer, Travis, Grady, and I took a ride over there and I bought all this.” She gazed at her pile and scrunched up her face. “I may have gone a little overboard.”

  “I don’t know anything about how much material a slipcover takes.” He wasn’t even exactly sure what a slipcover was. What he did know was that nasty thing in the barn was beyond saving, but she seemed to know what she was doing.

  “Not as much as I bought. But I’ll make matching pillows. Dinner should be done soon.” She glanced up at him, taking in the mud on his pants, and flashed a sympathetic smile. “Long day?”

  “I had to talk the neighbor down. He tried to hold off repossession of his tractor by pulling a shotgun on the guy from the tow company. We wound up sitting on the ground to talk it out.”

  He usually kept his cases confidential and unlike the rest of Dry Creek hated gossip, but the incident with Randy had bothered him on a visceral level. He’d seen enough desperation in a man’s eyes to know that Randy was hurting. Bad.

  “Oh my.” Charlie covered her mouth with her hand. “Was anyone injured?”

  “Nah, but Randy…he’s the neighbor…is in a bad way. His ranch is under water and he’s struggling to hold on.”

  “Does he raise cattle too?”

  Too. Jace had to keep from laughing. Compared to Beals Ranch, Dry Creek was a hobby farm. It didn’t used to be that way. Before the drought, Grandpa Dalton ran a fairly sizeable cow-calf operation. Never as big as the Beals, but respectable.

  “Yeah,” he said. “On a very large scale. But it’s a tough business.”

  “What’ll happen?”

  “I don’t know.” Jace shook his head. “The ranch has been in the Beals family for generations, so I suspect he’ll do whatever he can to hold on.”

  “Maybe he should figure out another way to profit from the ranch.” Charlie headed for the kitchen and Jace followed her.

  “None of us want a development.” The very thought of it made Jace queasy. The land along Dry Creek Road had always been cattle ranches. A few spreads had changed hands over the years to farmers and horse breeders, but it had always been agricultural.

  “Not development.” She leaned down and checked whatever was in the oven. “Just something else, something that would generate more income.” Charlie straightened up. “Don’t listen to me. I clearly don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  “I think you mean something like what the McCourtneys do. They grow pumpkins and sell ’em to a big distributor in the Central Valley. But the last few years they’ve opened up their farm to the public around Halloween and let folks pick their own pumpkins. This year, they offered hay rides, built a maze for the kids, and set up a little country store where they sold jams, produce, and wreaths. Nick McCourtney said they made a killing. Next year, they’re planning to keep it open all the way to Thanksgiving and add homemade pies to their repertoire.”

  “I love that.” Charlie wore a big grin that made Jace’s gut tighten. That smile was like the sun peeking out on a cloudy day.

  He cleared his throat and spoke to keep from basking too long in that smile. “It’s not as easy with cattle. Dude ranches are a dime a dozen and you need a lot of capital to build the infrastructure for that. Cabins, a commercial kitchen, enough tack for guests. The liability insurance alone is huge. There are a couple of cattlemen who let cell phone companies lease space on their ranches for towers. Besides being an eyesore, the income is only enough to keep a few lights on. The trick is coming up with something new and profitable. You got any ideas? Because we could sure use a plan around here.” If they came up with something good maybe they could raise the money to pay the taxes on Dry Creek Ranch.

  Surprised, she sputtered, “Me? Oh, I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

  “Why not? You used to own a business, right?” He gazed into the dining room, where her slipcover project still sat on the table. “You’re creative. That’s what it takes to come up with a winning idea. Creativity.”

  Surprise turned to pleasure. Her expression practically glowed with it and Jace was back to staring. God, she was pretty. And nice to talk to.

  “Then I’ll give it some thought.” She pulled a pan from the oven and pushed the door closed with her hip.

  He forced himself to look away from her and focus on whatever was in the pan. “Lasagna?”

  “Yes, the boys said you like it.”

  “Love it. Love rocky road cookies too, though until today I’d never heard of them.”

  “Those were a bribe to get Grady to bathe after soccer.”

  Ah, that explained the shampoo smell. Jace’s youngest was a great many things. Clean wasn’t typically one of them.

  “So they’ve been okay, huh?” Travis and Grady seemed to like her at least.

  “The kids?” Her lips curved up. “They’ve definitely got a lot of energy but they’re good boys, just—”

  “Just what?” he wanted to know.

  She began setting the table. A stall tactic, Jace suspected.

  “Tell me, Charlie. Whatever you’ve got to say, I can assure you I’ve heard worse.”

  “It’s nothing negative.” She finished carefully placing the flatware on each mat. Small fork, big fork. A little formal for a family dinner in the kitchen, but Charlie liked to do things up and Jace kind of liked it. It would’ve done his grandmother proud.

  “I’m not a psychologist, but I think they act out because they miss their mother,” she continued.

  She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t know. “Probably. Not a whole lot I can do about that.” Mary Ann had been the one to leave, not him. He made sure the kids were out of earshot and said, “She used to at least call and send cards for their birthdays. She doesn’t even do that anymore.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  Jace shrugged and stared out the window. “The ranch…the house…this town, it was never for her. But I foisted all of it on her, so she ran. She ran as far as she could go.”

  Charlie didn’t say anything, but he could see the wheels spinning in her head. She was running too.

  * * * *

  After dinner Charlotte went back to her sewing. Jace’s cousins came over and she could hear them talking in the kitchen. Jace was telling them about the neighbor, and then they began talking about their own financial problems. From what she could gather from the conversation, their grandfather hadn’t been up-to-date paying his property taxes when he’d died, and now the three of them had to come up with the cash to make it good.

  She cut and sewed and listened, realizing the direness of their situation. Though no one had said the words, Charlotte understood that they could lose Dry Creek Ranch if they weren’t able to pay the bills.

  Charlotte had been here less than a week, but even she could see how much Jace and his children loved this place. She couldn’t fathom them losing it.

  “What are yo
u working on, there?”

  She turned to find the cousin named Cash standing behind her, looking over her shoulder.

  She’d met him earlier while cleaning up after dinner. He’d been cordial enough but definitely standoffish. She couldn’t say she blamed him. A few days ago, she’d been a stranger. Now she was living here.

  “Uh, I’m recovering a couch.”

  He nodded. “Jace said something about you getting a bunch of furniture from old man Maitland. My fiancée’s an interior designer. She’s into stuff like that.” He focused on the pattern she’d made from tracing paper. “I’m sure she’d be interested to see what you’ve got going here.”

  “I’d love to meet her. Tell her to drop by the barn near the creek. That’s where I’ll be working on most of the projects.” The last thing she should be doing was forging connections here. The less people knew about her, the better. But what else was she supposed to say? They were Jace’s family after all.

  “I’ll do that,” he said and made his way to the bathroom.

  She went back to working on her slipcover, using the ranch as her inspiration. Farmhouse chic. Lots of denim, ticking stripes, burlap, and leather accents.

  To be sitting in the dining room, sewing, felt oddly normal. It was as if she’d become part of the household.

  Travis was in his room, probably talking to the same girl Charlotte had seen him with when she’d picked him up from school. She was no expert on teens, but Travis seemed pretty taken with the girl. She couldn’t be sure but she thought she saw them holding hands.

  Grady was watching TV in the front room. The program must’ve been a comedy because every few minutes or so, he barked with laughter. Several times, Jace had shouted for him to pipe down.

  A fire roared in the woodburning stove that sat between the kitchen and dining room. Occasionally, Jace would get up from his discussion and throw in another log.

  Sherpa, an Australian shepherd with one brown eye and one blue, lay under the table at Charlotte’s feet. Scout was on the couch—where he wasn’t supposed to be—with Grady. The entire scene could’ve been a painting of the perfect American family. To think Jace’s ex-wife had run from here boggled the mind. But she supposed outsiders could’ve said the same thing about her.

  Her life had once appeared a fairy tale. The big airy condo with its Golden Gate view and Presidio Heights address. The handsome lawyer, who in his free time did pro bono work for the poor and sat on charitable boards. His U.S. senator father.

  To observers she and Corbin had had it all. No one would ever believe that Senator Ainsley’s golden child was a possessive, verbally abusive woman beater.

  Chapter 10

  Thursday afternoon Jace got an email from Chris. It was only four words: Is this the woman? Attached was a picture of Charlie.

  He picked up his office phone and punched in Chris’s number. “Who is she?”

  Chris chuckled. “You don’t mess around, do you? According to her boyfriend, Charlotte Holcomb.”

  Jace looked at the picture again. Except for the evening gown and the expensive jewelry dripping from her ears and throat, it was Charlie all right.

  “Boyfriend? Who is he?”

  “What’s this about, Jace?” Chris asked, his voice firm.

  Jace didn’t want to jack his friend around, yet he didn’t want to give away Charlie’s location either. “I think the boyfriend’s been abusing her and she’s on the run from him. So he reported her missing, huh?”

  “A few days ago. He’s a big-deal lawyer, Jace. And his father is Senator Charles Ainsley.”

  Jace took a few minutes to absorb that news.

  Everyone in California knew who Charles Ainsley was. Before running for the U.S. Senate, Ainsley was mayor of Los Angeles and was the state’s own version of a Kennedy. Women thought he was hot and guys wanted to drink a beer with him. People still talked about the time Ainsley had jumped on stage during a benefit concert to support the victims of the Wine Country fires and had accompanied Neil Young on “Rockin’ in the Free World.” Ainsley was no Neil Young, but Jace thought he’d held his own.

  Other than that, he didn’t have an opinion on the guy. But Grandpa Dalton used to say Charles Ainsley was “big hat, no cattle.” Jasper Dalton had high expectations of his elected officials. Jace, not so much. Hell, a hardware-store owner with absolutely no law enforcement experience was probably going to beat Jace for sheriff just because he talked a good game.

  “He says she’s pregnant and suffers from severe depression and he’s worried about her safety,” Chris continued.

  Jace had seen no signs of depression, only fear. “Did you meet the guy…Charles Ainsley’s son?”

  “Nope. Apparently he met with the chief personally.” Chris let out a humorless laugh. “It pays to be someone in this town. Anyone else who lost his girlfriend would’ve gotten no further than the front desk.”

  Girlfriend. Jace was still trying to get a grip on the revelation that she wasn’t married. Odd that Charlie had been wearing a wedding ring when he first met her.

  “The dude’s name?” Jace wanted to do a little research on his own. The fact that he was a senator’s son would make it easier than usual. There was probably plenty of information about him floating around online.

  “Let me look.” Jace could hear Chris tapping a keyboard in the background. “I’m not supposed to be doing this shit.”

  “Yeah, I know. But it’s for a good cause.”

  “You sure about that? Maybe the chick’s batshit.”

  Jace could take that two ways: Chris was either questioning Jace’s judgment because of his prior track record with Mary Ann, or considering the possibility that the senator’s son was telling the truth. “Could be” was all he said.

  “Corbin. Corbin Ainsley. Douchie name, that’s for sure.”

  Jace laughed. “Thanks, bro. I don’t figure I have to tell you that this conversation never happened.”

  “Nope. You and I never talked.” Chris clicked off and Jace jumped on the internet highway.

  Two hours later, Jace called Cash. “Where are you?”

  “Over at the coffee shop, getting lunch. I spent the morning in Plumas County. It was a good twenty degrees colder and I’m still trying to warm up.”

  “You’re a wuss. I’ll be right over, order me a steak sandwich.” Jace hoofed it the two blocks to Mother Lode Road.

  Laney pointed to their usual booth where Cash sat, hunched over a cup of coffee and the local newspaper. “Your sandwich is coming.”

  “Thanks, Miss Laney.” He winked and she swatted his butt with a menu.

  “What’re you reading that rag for?” Jace took the bench across from his cousin and grinned. It was a good little newspaper. Before people got the news on their phones or in 280 characters on Twitter, they actually read it. Now, it was mostly for old-timers.

  Cash turned the paper and pointed to the picture on the front page of Ellie holding a certificate. Student of the month. “Aubrey called to tell me about it.”

  “Nice. Grady got menace of the year.”

  Cash shook his head but grinned despite himself, then his lips pressed together in a grimace. “How’s the new babysitter working out?”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Laney brought their food and Jace waited for her to move on to the next table before he picked up where he’d left off. “Her boyfriend reported her missing.”

  “What about her husband?” Cash took a bite of his sandwich.

  “Doesn’t have one.” Jace had checked public records under Charlie’s real name. “The boyfriend is Charles Ainsley’s son.”

  “Charles Ainsley as in Senator Ainsley?” When Jace nodded, Cash let out a low whistle.

  “He’s a lawyer in San Francisco, handles mostly corporate cases, some economic espionage. Name’s Corbin Ainsley.
You ever hear of him?”

  Before moving to the ranch, Cash had worked and lived in the city.

  “Nah, I never worked white collar. I met the senator a few times, though. Just the usual glad-handing shit. How’d you find out?”

  “I’ve got a few sources,” Jace said. “Charlie doesn’t know I know.”

  “You planning to tell her?”

  Jace took a long draw on his sarsaparilla. “I don’t know. What would you do?”

  Cash eyed Jace for a beat. It didn’t take a genius to know he didn’t approve of Charlie living at Jace’s. Domestic situations were hairy and often blew up fast. As a patrol officer, Jace would’ve chosen a riot over a DV call.

  “I’d tell her you know,” he finally said. “If you’re going to designate yourself her personal protector, there needs to be open communication. For everyone’s safety.” He emphasized the word “everyone.”

  “He’ll never find her here, but I hate the idea of him getting away with what he did.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure. It’s pretty difficult to stay hidden these days. And the guy obviously has the resources to launch a full-blown search. Your friend…Charlie…a week, my ass. She’s here for the long haul.”

  “What makes you say that?” Jace took another sip of the sarsaparilla.

  “That project she’s got going in the barn. That’s not something you do in a couple of days.”

  It had struck Jace the same way. The truth was he’d been more than happy to lug the crap from old man Maitland’s just for that reason. He kept telling himself it was the protective cop in him who wanted her to stay, not the man. But the man knew he was a damned liar.

  “Everyone at the ranch should be alerted.” Cash looked at Jace pointedly.

  Cash was right. They needed to be prepared if Corbin Ainsley ever showed up. What he ought to do is drive to San Francisco and take out the son-of-a-bitch. Who the hell beats up a woman? The thought of Charlie’s black-and-blue back…of her miscarriage…made his stomach pitch and he pushed his plate away.

  “I’ll talk to Sawyer,” Jace said. “You explain the situation to Aubrey. As long as we keep our eyes open, everything will be fine.”