Hard Ride to Dry Gulch

“At the Dry Gulch? No way.”

“I guess that will change now that Leif will be living out here.”

“It won’t change anytime soon.”

“Because of your relationship with your father?”

“You got it. And you apparently know a lot more about me, Faith Ashburn, than I do about you.”

“Joni told me a bit about why you and Leif have issues with R.J. But Leif changed his mind about his father. Perhaps you will, too.”

“Sure, and Texas might vote to outlaw beef.”

“Stranger things have happened.”

“Not in my lifetime,” Travis countered. “But it was a beautiful wedding.”

“I’ve never seen Joni so radiant.”

“Have you and Joni been friends long?”

“Eight years. We met in a psychology class at Oklahoma University. We clicked immediately and became fast friends even though I was divorced and had a young son.”

They made small talk until she spotted her car and unlocked it with her remote device. The lights blinked. “That’s my Honda,” she said, grateful for an excuse to end the conversation before he started asking personal questions again.

She let go of Travis’s arm and hurried toward her car.

Travis kept pace, then stepped in front of her at the last minute, blocking the driver’s side door. “You know, Faith, you look a lot better without all that makeup you were wearing the first time we met.”

Her mouth grew dry, her chest tight. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen you before tonight.”

“Actually, we met a few months ago. You’re not the kind of woman a man could forget.”

Faith wondered at what point during the night he’d figured that out. She shrugged. “Sorry. You must have me confused with someone else.”

“Not a chance.” He propped his left hand against the car roof and leaned in closer. “Let me refresh your memory. The Passion Pit. Four months ago. You were cruising the bar when one of your admirers got out of hand.”

She rolled her eyes. “Cruising the bar?”

“Don’t go all naive on me, Faith. A lady doesn’t just drop into the Passion Pit unescorted because she’s thirsty. You were wearing a black dress that left little to the imagination and a pair of nosebleed heels that screamed to be noticed. We talked. I asked you to wait so that I could see you safely home. You didn’t.”

“You definitely have me confused with someone else.”

“Not unless you have an identical twin. I asked Joni. She assured me you don’t.”

And Faith was a terrible liar. That left truth or some version of it as her only feasible choice if she wanted to get the detective off her back.

“You’re right.” She cast her eyes downward, to the tips of Travis’s cowboy boots. “I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I was in that disgusting place once. A detective came to my rescue when a rowdy drunk got out of hand. That must have been you.”

“Yep. Apparently, I am easy to forget. So why the denials?” Travis asked. “As far as I know, you didn’t break any laws that night.”

“I absolutely didn’t. Not that night or any other. I’d just rather Joni not know I did something so stupid.”

“Not only stupid, but dangerous,” Travis corrected. “Why were you there?”

“I was writing an article for a magazine on the increase of gentlemen’s clubs in the Dallas area. I decided I should at least visit one of them for firsthand research.”

“Dressed like that?”

“I thought I’d be less conspicuous that way.”

“There was no way you’d ever go unnoticed, looking the way you did that night. Those red shoes alone were enough to guarantee you’d get hit on.”

So he’d noticed more than that she’d needed help. At least she’d had an effect on him. Not that she cared.

“I’d love to read that article,” Travis said. “Which magazine was that in?”

“It doesn’t matter. It was a busy month and they decided not to run the story, after all.”

“So all that work for nothing.”

“That’s freelance,” she quipped. Even to her ears the attempt at nonchalance fell flat. She was too nervous. And she’d never written a magazine article in her life. The closest she’d come was a letter to the editor they had actually printed in the newspaper.

“I thought Joni said you worked in the personnel department of a department-store chain.”

“Benefits manager, but I occasionally freelance.”

“You’re a lousy liar.”

And always had been. She was going to have to come nearer to the truth if she expected Travis to buy her story.

“Okay, I wasn’t there to write an article. A good friend of mine was worried about her daughter. She’d heard a rumor that she was dancing at the Passion Pit. I offered to go there and find out for certain.”

“Just helping out a friend.”

“Yes. Look, Travis, I know your cop instincts are running wild. But this time they’re way off base. I went to a strip club one night. I wasn’t looking for a job or trying to pick up tricks. I’m thirty-five years old, for heaven’s sake. Way too old to peddle flesh even if I was interested. End of conversation.”

“Not quite. If I ever find out that you’ve exposed my niece to drugs, alcohol or any other sordid behaviors, I’ll tell Joni everything and see that you never come around Effie again.”

Travis Dalton was not only arrogant, but overbearing. That would have turned her off in a second, except that he was being that way to protect his niece. That was the kind of dogmatism she’d craved from the cops investigating Cornell’s disappearance.

The temptation to tell him the truth flared inside her. It passed just as quickly. There was no reason to think he’d be any different than the other officers she’d talked to.

No. She’d made her decision. She had to go higher than the cops if she was to find Cornell. She’d done that. Now she was just waiting to hear back from a man she knew only as Georgio.

“You don’t have to worry about Effie,” Faith assured him. “I would never corrupt a child.”

“Good.” He opened the door.