Matchmaking with a Mission

McKenna groaned inwardly. There was no backing out at this late date, especially since calling him sounded like it was out of the question. But suddenly she was more than a little afraid to find out who Arlene Evans thought was her perfect man.

She only half listened to Arlene rattle on about the man as she thought of the auction and her plans for the future: a man was the last thing on her mind.

It wasn’t until after she’d hung up that she realized she hadn’t caught her date’s name. Great. She thought about calling Arlene back but didn’t want to put herself through another twenty minutes of hearing about how perfect this guy was for her.

In a town the size of Whitehorse, spotting the man should be easy enough at the restaurant Saturday evening.

McKenna quickly forgot about her date. The house would be open for viewing before the auction, but she couldn’t wait. She had to take another look at the place, and this might be her only chance to spend a little time there alone.

ARLENE EVANS GLANCED away from her computer screen to see her daughter Charlotte sprawled on the couch.

Just moments before that Arlene had been feeling pretty good. Her Internet rural dating service had taken off. Several of the matches she’d made had led to the altar. She’d always known she had a knack for this, even if she’d failed miserably with her own children.

For years she’d tried to find someone for her oldest daughter, Violet—with no luck at all. A lot of that was Violet’s doing, she had to admit now. Violet was crazy—and dangerous—so no wonder no man had wanted to take that on.

Now Violet was locked up in a mental institution—hopefully never to be released, if Arlene had anything to do with it.

Bo, Arlene’s only son, had been engaged to Maddie Cavanaugh. The two had been all wrong for each other from the beginning. Unfortunately, since the breakup, though, Bo hadn’t shown any interest in finding himself a good woman to spend the rest of his life with. In fact, when Arlene had offered to line him up with one of her clients, he’d told her it would be over his dead body. It broke her heart, since Bo had always been her favorite.

And then there was Charlotte, the daughter that Arlene had thought would never have any trouble finding a husband.

Arlene scowled as she studied her youngest child—and Charlotte’s huge protruding belly. For months Arlene had been trying to find out who had fathered the baby now growing inside her daughter. The baby was due next month, and Arlene was no closer to discovering the name of the father than she’d been when she’d found out about the pregnancy.

Charlotte took perverse pleasure in keeping it a secret. If her daughter even knew, Arlene thought with a silent curse. Other mothers considered their children blessings. Arlene had come to see hers as a curse.

Not for the first time, Arlene saw a silver SUV drive past. She couldn’t see the driver, not with the glint of the June sun on the darkened side window, but she had the impression it was a woman behind the wheel.

Arlene frowned, trying to remember how many other times she’d seen the vehicle. Strange, since not much traffic ever came down this road. She put it out of her mind. She had a lot more important things to worry about.

When she turned back to her computer, she was surprised to see that she had a potential new client. She completely forgot about the silver SUV as she clicked on the man’s e-mail and felt a small thrill that had nothing to do with success or money.

Since my wife died, I find myself deeply needing the company of an interesting woman. I want someone who would like to travel the world with me. Someone who wants to share my final years.

Travel the world. What woman wouldn’t want to do that with an attractive older man? A man only a little older than Arlene herself.

She e-mailed Hank Monroe back, promising to find him the perfect woman and set up a time to meet.

BEHIND HARPER HOUSE, Nate Dempsey leaned on his shovel to rest for a moment and listened to the sound of the wind in the trees. A hot, dry wind that made his skin ache. The years must have distorted his memory. He’d been so sure he was digging in the right place.

But the land looked different than he remembered, and it had been a long time ago.

He began to dig again, turning over one shovelful of dirt after another, trying to gauge how deep the body would have been buried.

As he dug, he tried not to think about that hot summer night. Not the sounds he’d heard. Nor the fear he’d felt knowing he could be next. What he hadn’t known was who they were burying out back. He didn’t know that until the next morning. Until it was too late.

The heat bore down on him. He stopped digging for a moment to look up at the blue wind-scoured sky overhead and catch his breath. Standing there, it was impossible not to think of the past. Had a day gone by that he hadn’t remembered this place?

He’d spent years looking over his shoulder, knowing whose face he would see that instant before he felt the blade. But now he was no longer that skinny, scared boy. Nor was he a man willing to run from his past any longer. It would end here.

He began to dig again. Had it really been twenty-one years since he’d left this godforsaken place? Coming back here, it felt as if it had only been yesterday.

His shovel hit something that made the blade ring. He shuddered at the sound as he looked down, expecting to see bones. Just a rock. No body buried here.

He stopped again, this time the skin on the back of his neck prickling. As he had earlier, he felt someone was watching him. Carrying the shovel with him, he strode back to the house and stripped off his shirt to use it to wipe the sweat from his eyes.

For a moment he stood at the back door, surveying the land behind the house, the tall, old cottonwoods that followed the creek bed, the weather-beaten barn and outbuildings, the rolling grassy hillsides.

He couldn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean Roy Vaughn wasn’t there. He was the man Nate had to fear now, just as he had as a boy.

Stepping inside, he turned on the faucet at the old kitchen sink, letting the water run until it came up icy-cold, all the time watching out the window. He could almost convince himself he’d only imagined that someone was watching him.

Discarding his shirt, he scooped up handfuls of water, drinking them down greedily. Johnny’s remains were out there somewhere. With all his heart he wished it wasn’t true. That Johnny had run away, just as he’d been told. But he knew better. Johnny would have come back for him if he’d gotten away. Johnny wouldn’t have left him at Harper House. Not when Johnny had known how dangerous the place was for Nate.

As he turned off the faucet and wiped his wet hands on his jeans, he gazed out the back window again.

Ellis Harper hadn’t let anyone near the house in years. That meant no one else would have had a chance to dig up the body and hide it, right? He’d come as soon as he’d learned of Harper’s death. But had he come too late?

Bare-chested, he went back out and began to dig again in a different spot, the heat growing more intense. He dug down deep enough, turning over a final shovelful of dirt, and looked down into the hole seeing nothing but more earth.

This was the area where he’d thought they’d buried the body. He’d stake his life on it. Hell, he was staking his life on it.

There was just one problem.

The body was gone. If it had ever been here.

CRICKETS CHIRPED IN the tall grass as McKenna dismounted, loosely tied her horse and slipped between the logs of the jack fence.

The grass brushed her jeans, making a swishing sound as she moved through it toward the house. She listened for the sound of a rattlesnake, telling herself not only was she trespassing but her father could have been right about the dangers—including snakes.

A stiff breeze at the edge of the house banged a loose shutter and whipped her hair into her face. She stopped to look around for a moment, feeling as if she was being watched. But there was no vehicle parked in the drive. No sign that anyone had been here in a very long time.

She tried the screen door on the front porch first. The door groaned open. The wind caught it, jerked the handle from her fingers and slammed the door against the wall.

McKenna thought she heard an accompanying thud from inside the house, as if someone had bumped into something. She froze, imagining Ellis Harper coming out with a shotgun. But Ellis was dead. And she didn’t believe in ghosts, right? “Hello?”

No answer.

“Hello?” she called a little louder.

Another thud, this one deeper in the house. She stepped to the front door, knocked and, receiving no answer, cupped her hands to peer through the window next to the door.

The house was empty except for dust. That’s why the recent footprints caught her attention. The tracks were male-size boot soles. Someone from the county would have been out to check the house before the auction, she told herself.

The tracks led into the kitchen at the back. What she saw leaning by the back door made her reconsider going inside. A shovel, fresh dirt caked on it, stood against the wall. Next to it was a plaid shirt where someone had dropped it on the floor.

Her horse whinnied over at the fence. Another horse whinnied back, the sound coming from behind the house.

Someone was here.