Wanted Woman

Outside she gulped the damp morning air as she scanned the streets, not sure if she was looking for the face of a killer, that of a handsome dimpled sheriff’s deputy or maybe a face that resembled her own.

The streets were empty at this early hour. She looked back to find the clerk still watching her.

Climbing onto her bike, Maggie backtracked a few blocks to make sure no one was following her, then rode south out of town to one of the dozens of state campgrounds she’d seen on the map. She picked a closed one, wound her way around the barrier until she found a campsite farthest from the highway, deep in the woods and near the river.

It wasn’t until she was pretty sure she was safe that she dragged out the newspapers, starting with the article in the Cascade Courier.

She read it in its entirety twice. There was little about the original kidnapping. Mostly it was a story about a woman named Daisy Dennison who had been a recluse for twenty-seven years after her baby daughter had been stolen from her crib.

Her husband Wade, the founder of Dennison Ducks, a local decoy carving plant, was behind bars for a variety of things including shooting the sheriff during a recent domestic dispute with Daisy.

Wade Dennison’s attempts to make bail had been thwarted by his wife. Daisy, it was alleged, had filed for divorce and had started a new life.

What a great family, Maggie thought sarcastically.

But what Maggie did get from the story was that the couple’s youngest daughter, Angela, had been kidnapped twenty-seven years ago. No ransom had ever been demanded. Angela was never seen again.

Angela Dennison. Was it possible Maggie was this person? If what Norman had told her was correct, she had to be. How many other babies had been kidnapped from this tiny town twenty-seven years ago?

She quickly set up her two-man tent and finished off the milk and a couple more doughnuts before going through the larger newspapers. Nothing about Norman. She breathed a sigh of relief.

She knew she should try to get some sleep but the river pooled just through the trees near her campsite, clear and welcoming. She left the tent and walked over to the small pool, stripped down and took a bath. The icy cold water did more than clean and refresh her. It assured her she was alive. At least for the time being.

Full and feeling better, she still felt restless, anxious for the cloak of darkness so she could return to town—and worried about the deputy she’d stayed with part of the night. He had no reason to come looking for her. Unless he’d been warned she might be headed to Timber Falls. But then, that would mean Jesse Tanner had been in contact with Detective Rupert Blackmore and Blackmore knew she was alive.

Would the deputy help Blackmore find her? Why wouldn’t he? It would be her word against a respected detective. No contest.

She hid her bike in the trees, then brought the saddlebag full of money and her meager toiletries and clothing into the tent to wait until dark.

Chapter Five

Jesse had made a point of steering clear of the Dennisons since the time he was a boy. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin the morning by confronting Desiree, let alone her mother Daisy.

But he stopped by the sheriff’s department just long enough to leave his Harley and pick up the patrol car Mitch insisted he use along with that damned cell phone.

The Dennisons lived a few miles outside of town not far from Dennison Ducks.

Jesse hadn’t seen Wade and Daisy’s daughter Desiree since the shooting at the Dennison house when his brother had been wounded.

But he’d heard Desiree had been frequenting the Duck-In Bar more than usual and driving like a bat out of hell in that cute little sports car Daddy had bought her before he went to jail.

The last time he was at the house he’d found them all in the pool house, Mitch lying on the floor bleeding and Daisy with the gun trying to kill Wade. Fun family. Charity had saved the day—and Mitch—and all Jesse had needed to do was handcuff Wade and haul him off to the hospital then jail, adding to the scandal that had been a part of that family from as far back as Jesse could remember. Long before their youngest daughter had been kidnapped twenty-seven years before.

Needless to say, neither Daisy nor Desiree was going to be anxious to see him again. The feeling was mutual.

He parked his patrol car near the four-car garage and climbed out, the Dennison mansion looming out of the forest in front of him.

The place had been built with one thing in mind, letting everyone know just how much money Wade had and how much more could be made through duck decoys. It was an overdone plantation house straight out of Gone With the Wind. Antebellum style with huge pillars, a massive veranda complete with white wicker and inside, a Timber Falls’ version of southern belles. Except Daisy, like her daughter Desiree, was no Southerner. Nor was either a belle.

He checked the garage first, peeking in the windows. There was Wade’s SUV. Daisy’s SUV. And Desiree’s little red sports car, the passenger side caved in. He opened the garage door and stepped in, taking the chip of paint he’d scraped from the bike out of his pocket and holding it up against the car door panel. Perfect match. As if there had ever been any doubt. Then he headed for the main house.

“Would you please get Miss Desiree up, ma’am,” he said in his best Rhett Butler imitation when the housekeeper answered the front door of the house a few minutes later. “It’s the law come a calling.” He flashed his credentials.

The German housekeeper didn’t get the accent or the humor, what little there was. Nor did she look the least bit concerned. It wasn’t as if this was the first time a uniformed officer had come to the door looking for Desiree.

“She is indisposed.”

Jesse laughed. “She’s still in bed. If I have to come back it will be with a warrant for her arrest.”

“I’ll take care of this,” said a female voice from the cool darkness of the house. Daisy stepped from the shadows. She was close to fifty and still a very attractive woman. It seemed as if the years she’d spent in seclusion after Angela’s kidnapping had made her more reserved, less haughty. Her dark hair had been recently highlighted with blond streaks and cut to the nape of her neck so that it floated nicely around her pretty face.

But Jesse would always see her as he had at the age of nine, a goddess with long dark hair and a lush body, riding bareback through the tall grass behind his house, smelling of fancy flowers and what he later realized was sex.

“Hello, Jesse. Can I offer you some coffee? Or perhaps a glass of iced tea? Zinnia just made some.”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Dennison.” He supposed it was natural he was disposed not to like the woman even if he had never spoken more than two words to her before. “I need to see Desiree.”

“I’m sure she’s still in bed. Please. Call me Daisy.”

“I’m going to have to insist you get her up, Mrs. Dennison.”

Daisy’s back stiffened. So did her features. “It’s that important?”

“Yes, ma’am, it is.”

She sighed. “Very well. If you’d care to wait in there.” She pointed toward a small sitting room, the walls lined with books. “I’ll go get her.” Her look said Desiree would not be happy about this.

Too bad. He was a hell of a lot less happy about this than the princess of the house.

It was a good forty-five minutes later before Desiree made an appearance. Jesse had reacquainted himself with several classics in the small library by the time she burst into the room.

Her scent preceded her. She smelled of jasmine, her hair still wet from her shower, her face perfectly made-up. She was wearing all white, a blouse that floated over her curves and white Capri pants that set off her sun-bed tanned legs. She gave him her come-hither look, but being seductive came as easily as breathing for Desiree.

“Jesse,” she cooed. “You really should call a girl before you drop by so she can be presentable.”

He was struck by the color of her eyes. But it wasn’t just the eyes, he realized.

She moved past him, darting to plant a kiss on his cheek and brushing one of her full breasts against his arm as she did.

He found his voice. “This is not a social occasion and you know it.”

She turned to smile at him. Desiree Dennison had found that she possessed a power over men and she loved it.

“I’m here on sheriff’s department business,” he said. “I witnessed an accident last night on the highway by my place. I saw you hit a motorcyclist when you pulled out from Maple Creek Road.”

She drew back, gave him a get-real look, then lied right to his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Where were you at three in the morning, after the bars closed?”