Haystacks and Hoaxes (Cowboy Brand of Justice #3)

Chapter 7 Ex Factor

Christmas Eve

R ock felt like he was working two full-time jobs in the final days leading up to Christmas. He continued to assist with the oil equipment robbery case during the day. Afterward, he drove to Decker Kingston’s home to keep Mila in the loop about everything. Their debriefing sessions inevitably took most of the evening and resulted in an invitation to join them for dinner.

Christmas Eve was no exception. He sent Hawk home early, then texted his brother like he always did.

I’ll be home late. Pulling guard at the Kingstons.

With the danger surrounding Mila right now, it only felt right to keep his brother informed of his whereabouts. Plus, he didn’t want Gage holding dinner for him.

His brother’s response flashed on his cell phone screen seconds later.

Bro! You’re obsessed. Tried to warn you.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Rock hastily shoved his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. The two of them could continue their bickering later. He spun around, wondering why the sound of footsteps had stopped, and found Mila trying to sneak up on him.

“Boo!” She wiggled her fingers in the air, creeping closer like the bogeyman.

“Nice try.” He arched a single eyebrow at her. “Wrong holiday.”

“Oo! Somebody’s cranky!” She lowered her hands with a chuckle.

It was a beautiful sound. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into her this evening, but he liked it. She hadn’t done much laughing or smiling since finding out about the arrest warrant for her mother. None, in fact. The smile she was currently wearing was the first one he’d seen since her weep fest in the medical center.

She was still too thin and pale. The baggy pink sweatshirt she’d pulled over a pair of gray sweatpants this evening didn’t hide the pounds she’d lost, not from a forensic expert like himself with an eye for details. The poisoned fruit had really taken the punch out of her.

“Quit looking at me like that.” She made a face at him.

“Like what?” He thumped around her with his cane, playfully bumping shoulders with her on his way to the sofa.

“Like you wish you’d been saddled with a different partner than me.” She sounded so forlorn that he scrambled for something to say that would convince her otherwise as he took a seat on the sofa.

“You really think I’ve been spending hours every evening debriefing someone I don’t want to work with?” He hoped she heard how ludicrous that sounded.

“Instead of kicking back, watching football, and relaxing with the brother you rarely see anymore because of me? Yeah!” She flopped down on the other end of the sofa, emitting a gusty sigh. “That about sums it up.”

“There’s just no pleasing any of you!” He snorted as he laid his cane on the floor beside the sofa. That way, if Gwen came racing through, she wouldn’t knock it over like she had last time. “You insist I don’t want you around, while Gage insists I’m downright obsessed with you.”

Her hazel eyes rounded with astonishment, making him wish he hadn’t volunteered that last bit of information. “So, which is it?” She picked up a throw pillow from the middle of the sofa and hugged it tightly.

There was no way he was admitting the truth out loud. “I’m obsessed with your art,” he drawled, reaching for the duffle bag he’d tossed at the foot of the sofa upon entering the room. Pulling out the sketchpad he’d borrowed from her during her interview, he riffled through the pages until he came to the one she’d drawn of her brother. “If you framed this and gave it to your sister-in-law for Christmas, she’d consider it a family heirloom.”

Mila narrowed her gaze at him. “You completely dodged the question, which means there’s at least a little truth to your brother’s claim. Forensics 101.”

“Whatever.” He tossed her sketchpad back in his duffle bag. Though he’d photocopied the sketches she’d made of Chester Farm to keep as evidence, he still wasn’t ready to give back the originals. Like she’d pointed out on a number of occasions, originals were always better than copies.

“Prove me wrong,” she taunted, sending him a mischievous look .

“How?” Whatever came next was probably going to take his finest acting skills, but he’d promised himself he’d keep things professional between them.

“Take off your boot, and give me your leg,” she ordered softly. “The injured one,” she clarified.

He gaped at her, worried they were about to cross a line.

She rubbed her hands together expectantly. “What I’m about to do is something I learned from a friend in high school, who ran track and eventually became a physical therapist.”

“Should I be worried?” He eyed her cautiously.

“About a simple leg massage? Hardly.” She waved a warning finger at him. “Before you jump the gun and rain all over the idea, I’m going to bring you up to speed on a crucial piece of Heart Lake High football history. This gal,” she pointed two fingers at herself, “is the person they called to the field during our most talked about homecoming game ever.” She smiled for the second time that evening, making his resolve waver. “The score was tied with only fourteen seconds left to go. Coach called a timeout, because our star running back was nursing a strained muscle. Doc was trying to decide whether to pull him from the game.”

She paused and wiggled her fingers expressively at him.

He couldn’t believe she’d left him hanging. “Are you gonna finish the story, or what?” He hadn’t been living in Heart Lake long enough to know the ending to any of their football games, famous or not.

“After I finished working my magic, they put him back in the game and we won!” She gestured at his leg. “Every time I see you limping, I can’t help wondering if the Mila touch would be just as effective on a wounded soldier.”

“Your modesty knows no bounds.” He couldn’t resist teasing her, though he wasn’t about to accept her offer. The thought of her brother walking in on them almost made him blush.

“Really, Rock?” Irritation brought a bit of color to her pale cheeks. “You can pull extra guard shifts for a week straight, probably without being paid, but I can’t test out a measly little theory on your leg?”

He shrugged. “I’m already in physical therapy. Probably be there for the rest of my life.” He was starting to lose hope that he’d ever again walk without the help of a cane.

“The truth at last!” She tossed the pillow she’d been clutching at him. “I think we both know you have nothing to lose here.”

He caught the pillow and dropped it on the floor. “Other than my dignity.”

“Oh, please! This isn’t about your dignity.” She jutted her chin at him. “The only thing keeping you from ditching that cane is between your ears.”

His jaw dropped. “Mila!” He was pretty sure he’d just been insulted. Or goaded.

“Chanel turned in earlier,” she continued, “and Decker is reading Gwen a bedtime story.” Mila clapped her hands impatiently and beckoned at his wounded leg again. “Come on! You’ve already seen me at my worst. All it’ll take is one whiff of your smelly dogs to make us even.”

Telling him he had stinky feet was such a far cry from flirting that he decided to stop overthinking her offer. Instead, he slid off his boot.

She pretended to choke on his stench while he propped it on the sofa between them.

He shook his head at her. “Are we even yet?”

“Almost.” She made a big show of rubbing her hands together again before lowering them to his ankle. “Pull up the hem of your jeans, cowboy, so we can do this right. ”

He silently complied. The next thing he knew, she was pulling his sock off and digging her cool fingertips into his cramped calf muscles. It wasn’t nearly as painful as he’d been expecting. On the contrary, it felt good. He held her gaze, not saying anything, just breathing.

“It’s okay that you survived your last deployment, Rock.”

He jerked back a little, as the familiar guilt flooded his chest. “You have no idea what you’re?—”

She talked right over him. “It’s okay that you were one of the fortunate ones who got to come home.”

“Who told you what happened to me?” He couldn’t imagine his brother talking behind his back.

“Nobody. I looked up the story online.” Her eyes grew glassy with unshed tears. “I read about the soldier in your squad who came home in a box, and about the other guy who will never walk again. According to the only soldier willing to sit through an interview, none of them would’ve survived without your bravery that afternoon.”

His insides churned with emotion. “It’s easy to Monday-morning quarterback stuff like that.” Which didn’t change the fact that war was an ugly business, and winning always came at a cost.

She acted like she hadn’t heard him. “The last thing the soldier said to the reporter was a quote from the Book of Romans. ‘All things work together for good to those who love God and are called according to His purpose .’ ” She drew a shuddery breath. “Which means you were meant to live to fight another day, Rock. Maybe not with your comrades on the battlefield, but right here in Heart Lake.” She grimaced at him. “With a messed-up partner whose life is currently in shambles. ”

Her words moved him deeply. “Just doing my job,” he muttered.

“Are you?” A tear slid down her cheek. “Or are you still going above and beyond like you did for your Special Forces comrades? You have to be exhausted, Rock, but here you are. Present. Making sure I drink water and take my stupid vitamins. Then you keep my head so full of boring facts and numbers about the robbery case, that I have a lot less time to pontificate on how much my life may or may not have been shortened by a deadly pesticide. And whether my mother was the one who administered the poison.”

Throughout her impassioned tirade, not once did her fingers stop kneading the knotted muscles in his leg. It only took a few minutes to prove her point. His leg was better. He’d suspected it for a while, but he’d been afraid to test his theory. It was easier to continue leaning on his cane than risk being caught in a wave of muscle spasms that could drop him on the floor.

Funny how no one besides Mila had been able to see through his pride and fear. Not his physical therapist. Not his brother. Not his boss. Only her.

She lifted her hands dramatically and stood, making him miss her soothing touch. What she did next blew his mind. She jogged backwards, putting a good twenty feet of distance between them. “Get out of the boat, Peter.”

He chuckled helplessly. He couldn’t help it. Her reference to the apostle who’d walked on water caught him right in the funny bone. Even more importantly, it caught him in the heart. The fact that she believed he could walk again made him anxious to prove her right. She needed a win right now. They both did.

He stood, shaking his head in bemusement at her as he took his first tentative step. Then he shifted his full weight onto his injured leg. It held steady. Glancing down, he silently begged the leg to work right. Just this once. For her.

“Don’t look down, Rock.” Mila’s voice tugged his attention back to her. “Look at your messed up partner.”

“Quit calling yourself that.” He hated it when she did.

“I hate it just as much when I see you wrestling with your demons, Rock.” Her musical voice was like a tide, lifting him and carrying him ever closer to where she was standing.

He was only a few steps away when the truth hit him. The reason he hated hearing her refer to herself as damaged was because it was the same way he felt every time he looked into the mirror. It was a feeling he despised. A feeling that filled him with despair.

But no longer. His partner got him in ways no one else ever had. Where others could only see the falling leaves or rotting hay, she saw the dawn of a new season. She’d seen it at Chester Farm, and she’d seen it in the soldier standing in front of her.

He closed the distance between them one step at a time — with the light thump of a boot sole followed by the nearly silent fall of his bare foot. The best part was that he reached her without having to take a knee.

“You’ve spent the last few days trying to convince me we’re in this together.” The way she was looking at him made him feel whole again. “You finally succeeded.”

It wouldn’t have taken more than another half step to tangle their fingers or fuse their mouths together, but he didn’t want to muddy the new level of trust they’d reached. It was too new. Too pure. Too perfect, just as it was.

“While we’re celebrating my many illustrious accomplishments,” he informed her in the lightest voice he could muster, “your brother finally gave me the green light to spring you out of prison tomorrow.”

Her lips parted in a gasp of delight. “Rock Hefner!” She launched herself into his arms. “How can I ever thank you?”

It was a ludicrous question from where he was standing. He couldn’t resist lifting her off her feet and giving her a twirl. “I believe you promised to bake cookies,” He reminded as he lowered her feet to the floor. “Only a lightweight would let a little pesticide get in the way of that, and my partner isn’t a lightweight.”

Her hazel gaze glowed like a cozy home fire. “Do you want your cookies with or without pecans?”

“With.”

“Should I double the recipe since Johnny will be there?” Her eyes laughed into his.

“I’d quadruple it,” he advised, somehow managing to keep a straight face. Part of him wasn’t kidding.

“Oh, no!” Her smile slipped. “I totally forgot about gifts!”

“Sketch me something,” he urged. The right thing to do would’ve been to assure her that her homemade cookies were more than enough, but he instinctively knew it wouldn’t be enough for her. “And don’t forget to sign it. Someday, I’m going to proudly point it out to my colleagues and brag about how fortunate I was to meet you before you became famous.”

“Ha. Ha.” Though her voice was dry, the light was back in her eyes.

He returned to the sofa to pull on his sock and boot and roll down the leg of his jeans.

Mila’s mocking voice followed him. “Your limp is almost non-existent tonight. It’s amazing what we can do when we get out of our own way. ”

It felt like every cell in his body was smiling as he reached for his duffle bag and cane.

She hurried his way to whisk the cane out of his hands. “You don’t need this anymore.”

“Mila,” he warned.

“You don’t,” she insisted. “I’ve watched you in action all week. Several times, you’ve used it for nothing more than a prop. Essentially, when you’re not thinking about everything you’ve lost, you don’t need it.”

Their gazes clashed in a silent duel, during which she shoved his cane behind her back.

“You’re a brat.” He wanted to kiss her. Badly.

She tilted her head at a haughty angle. “I believe the word you’re looking for is partner.”

“A very bratty partner,” he amended.

“All yours,” she added triumphantly. “Lucky you!”

All mine. In that moment, there was nothing he wouldn’t have given to make it true. However, she still worked for him, and he wasn’t about to betray her trust by crossing lines that shouldn’t be crossed.

He reached for the Stetson he’d tossed on the arm of the sofa and settled it on his head. “What time do you want me to be here in the morning?”

“Is nine o’clock a good time for you?” She looked a little worried. “I was hoping to watch Gwen open her gifts. It’s only her second Christmas. Plus, that would allow me to wait until the morning to bake the cookies, which means they’ll still be warm when you arrive.”

“Nine o’clock is perfect.” So, this is what falling in love feels like. It wasn’t like falling at all, more like watching his heart drift out of his chest and land straight into her capable hands.

He tipped the brim of his hat at her, knowing his heart was safe with her. He was already counting the minutes until he returned to give her a ride in the morning.

You win, Gage.

He wasn’t going to admit it to him, but his brother was right. He wasn’t just obsessed with Mila Kingston. He was in love with her — a woman he’d met a mere week ago, a woman he’d been fighting to keep alive ever since, a woman he was going to continue protecting no matter the cost.

Mila shut the door behind Rock, feeling weak as she leaned back against it. With the way her knees were trembling, she might actually need the cane she was clutching to make it back to the guest room.

The sound of clapping made her head jerk toward the tall, arched entryway leading to the kitchen.

Decker was standing there in a t-shirt and sweatpants. His feet were bare.

“Should I take a bow?” She wasn’t sure why he was clapping. She also wasn’t sure how to explain why she was holding Rock Hefner’s cane after he’d left the house.

He answered her question with a question of his own. “Only if stealing mobility-assisted devices from wounded soldiers is something to brag about?”

She tossed her head. “He doesn’t need it anymore, and I just finished proving it to him.”

Decker dropped his hands to his hips. “How’d you know?”

“I just did.” She wasn’t sure how to explain it. “He’s my partner,” she added vaguely .

“It didn’t take you two long to bond,” he observed blandly.

She attempted to twirl the end of Rock’s cane on the tip of her finger. After a few wobbles, it slipped off. She caught it and lowered it back to the floor. “I reckon a few near-death experiences can do that to a partnership.” She smirked at him. “He’s not the only person I’ve bonded with this week.”

“Oh, the horror!” Decker pretended to back away from her with his hands raised protectively in front of him. “If you’re suggesting what I think you are…”

“There are worse things in the world than having a sister you didn’t ask for,” she informed him loftily.

“Name one,” he shot back.

She pretended to think hard. “Can I get back to you on that?”

He lowered his arms to his sides. “I’ll have gray hair by then, but sure.”

She danced his way, scowling at the side of his head. “I think I see one already, old man.”

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I can feel it. Having a second kid on the way can do that to a person.”

That wasn’t what had been weighing on him the most, though, and they both knew it.

It seemed like the right time to ask him the same question she asked every evening. “Have there been any new developments in Mom’s case?” Despite the fact that Carla Kingston might be behind bars soon, both of them were still referring to her as their mother.

Instead of saying no like he usually did, he angled his head toward the kitchen. “Want to grab a cup of coffee?”

She nodded and followed him. Unsure what to do with Rock’s cane, she propped it against one of the kitchen cabinets. Then she joined him at the bar.

He pulled out a stool for her. She perched on it, laying her cell phone on the countertop in front of her. As he’d gotten into the habit of doing, he brewed coffee for them and returned with two steaming mugs.

He set one in front of her. “Gage and Johnny have been interviewing everyone in town who’s willing to talk to them about our mother. It’s been enlightening.”

“I bet.” Mila’s stomach knotted. She cradled the mug between her hands, trying to draw comfort from its warmth.

“Apparently, Carla Kingston has been hobnobbing with Loretta Bentley before and after she fired you.” He seemed reluctant to look up from his coffee cup. “Were you aware they’re friends?”

Unfortunately, she was. “It’s kind of my fault they became friends, since I’m the one who introduced them.” She thought she was doing her mom a favor by sharing her employee discount on salon services.

“Not true.” He drew a heavy breath and let it out. “Turns out, our mother worked for the Bentleys in Dallas.”

That didn’t sound right to Mila. “She worked for a car dealership there, but Dallas is a long way from Heart Lake.” From what Mila understood, her mother had started as a receptionist and worked her way up to be the front desk manager.

“The Bentleys own and operate dealerships at three locations, including Dallas.” Decker lifted his mug to gesture with it. “You can thank Gage and Johnny for connecting the dots.”

“What are you getting at?” She sensed she wasn’t going to like the point he was working up to .

“One of the ladies Gage and Johnny spoke with recalled a heated exchange between your mom and Loretta Bentley on your wedding day.”

“Almost wedding day,” Mila corrected mechanically.

“Of note, their confrontation happened outside the church before you made your famous exit from the altar. Multiple eyewitnesses described your mother as tearfully distraught afterward.”

“Oh, to be a bee on one of their bonnets that fateful day,” Mila mocked.

“Since I wasn’t,” her brother continued with the ghost of a smile, “I had Team Gage and Johnny paw through more of our mother’s past, and something else popped.” From his expression, it wasn’t anything good.

Mila’s heart skipped a sickening beat as she motioned for him to continue.

“This isn’t the first time Carla Kingston has had a warrant out for her arrest,” he announced gravely.

“What?” It was a good thing Mila was already sitting down.

“She was accused of embezzling funds from the dealership’s coffers, but the Bentleys dropped the charges. Nobody knows why.”

As reluctant as Mila was to jump to conclusions, she understood how bad this latest discovery looked for their mom. “Maybe because she was innocent?”

“Maybe.”

Her brother’s answer surprised her. “Really?” Hope leaped into her heart. “Why do you say that?”

“Because a subpoena for her bank records showed that she started investing the oil royalties into a global mutual fund around that same time. ”

Mila spread her hands, not sure where he was going with his story.

“A closer look at the mutual fund proved that it’s nothing more than an overseas shell account. A carefully crafted one, mind you.”

Alarm sliced through her. “Are you saying she’s being blackmailed by the Bentleys?” Which would make her a victim instead of a criminal! Hope warred with her fears. The explanation fit better than anything else she’d heard so far. It wasn’t difficult to picture a young and grieving stepmother facing the prospect of raising a baby that wasn’t hers — not only alone, but as a dirt-poor receptionist with zero support from her in-laws. At the time, nobody had known Mila’s inheritance would grow into what it was today, but somebody had figured it out. Somebody who hadn’t hesitated to terrorize an already struggling single mom into forking over every penny of the oil royalties.

Decker looked troubled. “She’s being blackmailed by someone alright, but there’s no evidence linking the Bentleys to the mutual fund.”

“Yet,” Mila snapped.

“It could be anyone, sis.” He shook his head regretfully. “If our mother had any proof it was the Bentleys, she would’ve gone to the police by now. Or at least told Dad.”

Her throat constricted as another thought popped into her head. “You said her bank accounts were subpoenaed. Does that mean she and Chet know about the arrest warrant?”

“They do.” His jaw tightened.

Poor Mom! Poor Chet! “What did they say?”

“Not much.” He flicked his thumb and forefinger against the side of his coffee mug. “Probably at the advice of their lawyer. It’s standard procedure to advise their clients to maintain radio silence.”

Mila found a thread of comfort in his words. “It sounds like your dad is sticking by my mom.” You were right about that. She was so glad he was.

“That’s what family is for, sis.” Decker gave her a tight smile. “If I ever had any doubts about how much my dad loves your mom,” his words indicated that he most definitely had, “I don’t anymore. He’s doing everything to protect her that I would do if Chanel was in the same situation.”

The warmth of his acceptance chased away the chill of fear in Mila’s heart. Somewhere along the way, their blended family had become a real family. It was an unexpectedly wonderful conclusion to draw on Christmas Eve. It felt like an early Christmas gift.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming text. Then another one and another one.

“Whoa! Who’s blowing up your phone?” Decker eyed the vibrating instrument curiously.

“Normally, it would be Mom.” But if her lawyer was advising radio silence, it probably wasn’t her this time. Mila lifted her phone, glanced at the caller ID, and nearly dropped the phone.

“Who is it?” Decker asked quickly.

“Troy Bentley. I thought I’d blocked his number a long time ago.”

“What does he want?” he growled.

She stared in horror at the messages flashing one right after another across her screen. “Forgiveness.” She didn’t believe it, of course. Not for a second!

I’m sorry, babe!

I was wrong to hurt you the way I did.

Please forgive me.

I’ve never stopped loving you.

The doorbell chimed, making her nearly jump out of her skin. She’d been on edge for days. According to her doctor, it was one of the side effects of the residual strychnine working its way out of her system.

Decker reached for her hand and covered it with his. “Don’t even think of opening it! That’s what security cameras are for.” He climbed down from his stool and angled his head at the doorway, urging her to follow him. He was nice enough to carry both of their coffee cups as he led her to his office.

It was a massive, windowless room that brought to mind the Oval Office. Video monitors were mounted on the three walls in front of his desk. Live feeds from both the outdoors and the indoors played across them. One of the video cameras was trained on the great room where Mila had been visiting with Rock every evening this week.

“You could’ve warned me,” she groaned, blushing.

Deck backed her into the throne-like swivel chair behind his desk. “Where’s the fun in that?” He parked her coffee mug in front of her.

“You’re a truly awful person!” She reached for her mug, blushing harder than ever.

“Not a half bad older brother, though.” He sounded smug. “If it had been any other guy with you earlier this evening, I would’ve come in there and broken both of his legs.”

She swayed dizzily. “You saw what I did? ”

“I saw you make the lame walk and the blind to see.” He shook his head at her. “As for the poor guy’s heart? Complete toast.”

“Deck!” She nearly came out of her chair in her haste to point out the scene flashing across the monitor directly in front of her. “What’s that?” Unless she was hallucinating, it looked like a missile cruising toward the front entrance of his home!

“Drones. Dozens of them.” He fisted his hands at his sides. “So help me, if they’re carrying another bomb?—”

The drones separated and swarmed like an energetic cluster of lightning bugs. Then they converged to form a message flashing in a rainbow of tiny lights.

Mila, will you marry me?

The lights momentarily dispersed, and another message took shape.

I love you! —Troy

The lights continued to sparkle, shimmer into darkness, and reappear to form the same two messages over and over again.

Mila, will you marry me?

I love you! —Troy

Mila, will you marry me?

I love you! —Troy

Mila, will you marry me?

I love you! —Troy

“How dare he!” She gripped the edge of Decker’s desk. How did he even know she was staying at her brother’s house? Had the creep been stalking her? She felt exposed and violated. “Do something, Deck,” she begged, fearing she was about to be sick. “He’s trespassing!”

His lips twisted bitterly. “It’s a gray area.”

The light drones shimmered out again, and a new series of pictures appeared — the lone star of Texas, cowboy boots with a strand of Christmas lights circling them, windmills, a pumpjack moving up and down, a boat with water waving beneath it, a gold badge that looked eerily similar to the one worn by the sheriff of Heart Lake, a bird flapping its wings behind a golden cage…

Dread clogged Mila’s throat. “He’s threatening me!” It didn’t make a bit of difference that the light show was being recorded by her brother’s security cameras. Since Troy had begun his drone antics with a marriage proposal, he could simply claim he was romancing the woman he loved with the grand scapes of Texas.

Then the pictures disappeared, and his original question reappeared.

Mila, will you marry me?

“No,” she said fiercely, even though he couldn’t hear her. “Not even if you were the last man standing.” He’d cheated on her the night before they were supposed to be married — with one of their high school classmates, of all people! To this day, she wasn’t sure who’d texted her the photos that had ultimately ended their engagement. It had come from an unidentified number, probably a burner phone.

It was the same classmate he’d enjoyed an on-and-off relationship with, which made his disloyalty sting all the more. His ex-girlfriend had supposedly left town after high school to attend college out of state and major in journalism.

But she was back.

Mila sat back in her chair, stunned. The pictures of Troy Bentley slobbering all over his ex in the party room of a well-known steak restaurant proved that she and her journalism degree were very much back in town .

“Are you okay?” Decker lurched in her direction.

“I think I know who Helen of Troy is.” The realization gave her chills.

“Who?”

“Troy’s ex-girlfriend. It’s the only thing that makes sense.” Helen’s exploitation of the runaway bride story had ensured Mila would be buried in the maximum amount of shame. It had been riddled with snide speculation and titillating half-truths that none of the editors at the Heart Lake Times had been willing to fact check. They didn’t have to. The sensational She Said column fell into the editorial category. It was a word salad of little more than malicious gossip — gossip that might’ve swayed the election results out of Decker’s favor if Mila hadn’t worked so hard to counter it with her Cowboys for Kingston posts. A few months later, Helen’s extensive writeup about Troy Bentley’s inheritance had appeared on the same She Said column. Her claim that he was the sole heir of Chester Farm had essentially been printed in an editorial column, not a news article, meaning it might be nothing more than a rumor. Or a deliberate smokescreen to hide the truth.

Mila pressed her hands to her forehead, feeling feverish.

Decker sprinted from the room and returned with a digital thermometer. He rolled it across her forehead and held it up to read the number. “No fever.” His shoulders slumped.

She didn’t share his relief. Her brain felt like it was about to explode. “We need to fact check everything Helen has ever written about Troy, his inheritance, Chester Farm, and the sanctuary status he’s filing for.” It was all connected somehow. She didn’t yet know how, but she intended to find out.

“Because it all appeared in the She Said column, eh?” His expression sharpened as he mentally followed her line of thinking.

“There and nowhere else.” She couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to her before now.

He wagged a finger at her. “You may be on to something.”

She knew she was.

They returned their attention to his security cameras, but Troy’s light drones were gone. The front lawn was resting in shadows again.

“Show’s over.” Decker searched her face worriedly. “You okay?”

“I am,” she assured. “Merry almost Christmas, Deck.”

“Merry almost Christmas, sis.”

They embraced. Then she returned to the guest room. Sleep, however, remained far from her grasp. After tossing and turning in bed for a while, she sat up and rummaged on the nightstand for her sketchbook and pen. Then she padded in her sock feet down the hallway to the sunroom.

Ollie and Daisy stood up on their cushions and bounded her way, tails wagging. Thankfully, they didn’t bark. All they did was make happy squealing sounds and push their curly heads against her hands for attention. She cuddled with them for a while. Then she settled down on the area rug amidst the array of wicker furniture and opened her sketchpad.

Since she couldn’t sleep, she figured she might as well work on Rock’s Christmas gift. It was way too bad he’d never gotten to tour Chester Farm during its glory days, so she decided to recreate a bit of holiday magic just for him.

Her pen danced over the page as she drew the outline of Farmer Monty’s cozy farmhouse. This time, the shutters were straight, and the porch swing was hanging properly. The urn was also standing upright, holding miniature Christmas trees weighed down with ball ornaments and ribbons. She added the cheerful triple puff of white smoke coming from the chimney that had been there the other day. Instead of blowing sideways in the wind, the puffs were drifting upward in perfect symmetry.

She added the hay huts and the blur of brightly dressed townsfolk moving in and out of them with steaming hot beverages in hand. On a burst of whimsy, she added herself behind the booth at the snack shack, holding out a festive red mug of hot chocolate to none other than Rock Be-Still-My-Heart Hefner.

It was some of her best work, and he was going to like it. She could feel it in her bones. Flipping the sketchbook closed, she pulled one of the decorative pillows off the nearest wicker chair and curled down on the rug between the dogs. Ollie and Daisy snuggled up against her like they’d done the first night.

Together, they drifted off to sleep.