Long, Tall Texans: Hank & Ultimate Cowboy ; Long, Tall Texans: Hank Read online

  “My name is Kyle,” he said tersely.

  Julie gave Brody a sympathetic look, trying to telegraph to him to be patient.

  “All right, Kyle.” The waitress brought their food and she and Brody dug in. “I think you’ll like the horses. At least you used to when you were little.”

  “How do you know what I liked?” Will asked.

  Julie held her breath. She and Brody hadn’t discussed when to tell him about the DNA results.

  Brody shifted, pushing his fries around on his plate, then shrugged. “Most kids like horses. Especially boys.”

  Will shrugged. “Whatever.”

  Brody’s jaw tightened in obvious frustration. “Well, we’ll see when we get to the BBL.”

  Kyle didn’t respond, but he wolfed down his food as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

  “You can have another burger if you want,” Julie said, wiping ketchup from her mouth with her napkin.

  But Will simply folded his napkin neatly and placed it on the table. She noted the meticulous way he handled it and had a sinking feeling his captor had been obsessive-compulsive.

  Brody paid the bill, and they drove the rest of the way to the BBL in silence. Cracking through Will’s veneer might be harder than she thought.

  But getting him to talk was imperative. If his abductor had seen the newscast, he would probably have panicked.

  That panic might trigger him to do something bad—like take his anger out on the other kids he was holding.

  Or what if he came after Will?

  She didn’t want to tell Brody, but she’d stick around and keep her eyes peeled. And she’d alert her coworkers.

  Will was not only a suspect in a crime and a kidnap victim, but he was also a witness and could identify his abductor.

  Which meant he might be in danger.

  * * *

  BRODY WATCHED Will’s reaction as they arrived at the BBL, but just as he’d been on the ride and when they’d stopped to buy him some clothes and toiletries, he remained sullen.

  Will’s look turned even more wary as Brody showed him around the ranch house. He behaved as if he was searching for bars on the window and guards like he was still in prison.

  Or maybe that was how it had been where he’d lived the past few years.

  “You can have this room,” he told Will, strategically giving Julie the first guest room by the stairs and placing Will in the second. Both rooms were situated across from the master suite so he and Julie could monitor if Will left his room and went downstairs.

  He also intended to keep the alarm set at night in case Will tried to leave.

  Julie set the shopping bag of jeans and shirts in the room, but her phone buzzed and she excused herself to answer it.

  “Come on,” Brody said. “I’ll give you a quick tour of the ranch.”

  Will’s lips pressed into a thin line. “What will my assignments be?”

  “Your assignments?” Brody asked.

  “Yes, sir. I’m here under court order. I expect to have assignments.”

  Brody rubbed his chin. He wanted to tell him that his assignment was to remember him, to remember his life before the kidnapping. But he couldn’t push. “You mean what will your jobs, your chores be?”

  “Sir, yes, sir.”

  Brody’s chest squeezed at the military response. “You can muck stalls, help exercise and groom the horses.”

  Will’s eyes crinkled. “Sir, yes, sir.”

  “You can stop with that, too,” Brody said, his irritation mounting. “This is a camp, not a military base. The boys here call me Brody.”

  Will’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Sir, yes, sir.”

  “It’s Brody,” he said again, struggling for patience. “Now, come on, I’ll show you around.”

  He led Will down the stairs and outside. Julie was on the porch. “I have to go, Brody. I’ll be back in a while.”

  “What’s going on?”

  She cut her eyes toward Will. “A woman from the fair where Hank Forte went missing called in. She said she saw someone suspicious and is going to meet with a sketch artist.”

  That sounded hopeful.

  “I’ll be back in a little bit.” She looked at Will. “Anytime you’re ready to talk, Kyle, I’m ready to listen.”

  A mixture of emotions flickered in his eyes for a second, but then his mask fell back into place.

  Brody watched her leave, then turned to Will. “My brother and I used to love riding when we were little,” he said. “Our father had a spread east of here, not a big one. He wasn’t a smart rancher, but we had a couple of horses we used to ride. Chance was mine and my brother, Will, liked this old guy named Tully.”

  He walked toward the stables where they kept the quarter horses and Will followed. “One day Will took Tully out on the riding trails and Will got turned around. But even though Tully was old, he had a good sense of direction and brought him back.” He paused, glancing at Will to see if he had any reaction, but Will seemed to be looking across the land as if he was still searching for the prison guards.

  “Another time Tully got spooked when they came up on a skunk. The skunk put out his scent, and when Will rode back, he smelled so bad it took three days to wash the stench off of him.” Brody laughed, but Will pulled his chin as if he might be remembering that day.

  Brody continued to tell stories about Will as he showed him the horses, then led him to the dining hall. Several of the ranch hands were laughing and talking about a cow that had gotten stuck in the mud, and the campers filled the room with their chatter.

  He introduced Will to Carlos, one of the older boys who’d joined them as a counselor after he’d attended the camp, then he spotted Kim Woodstock and Jordan McGregor, counselors and the wives of two of Brody’s best friends, and made a mental note to seek their help.

  Two of the kids ran up and hugged him, and Brody hugged them back. “How’s it going?”

  “We roped a calf today,” a little guy named Palmer said.

  Freddy, an eight-year-old who’d just joined the group this week, grinned. “And Carlos showed us how to play horseshoes.”

  Brody ruffled the boy’s hair. “That was my little brother’s favorite game. He used to beat me at it all the time.” Actually he’d let Will beat him but the joy on his face had been worth it.

  “We’re going to camp out under the stars tonight,” Palmer said.

  “And Carlos said we get to ride with the cattle drive,” Freddy exclaimed.

  “I’m so proud of both of you.” Brody grinned as they raced off.

  But when he looked up at Will, his brother was studying him with an odd expression.

  “I like seeing the kids so excited,” Brody said. “Most of them come from broken homes, and the majority don’t have good role models. We teach the kids how to trust, how to have fun and work hard, all about teamwork and respecting themselves and others.”

  Will lapsed into another sullen silence, but Brody continued the tour, determined his brother see that the BBL was not a prison. The next few hours he introduced him to a couple of other camp groups. They sat in on the camp out where the kids told stories about what they’d done that day, then they roasted hotdogs over the fire.

  Will looked puzzled as they walked from the cookout back to the house. When they reached the porch and Brody sank onto the porch swing, Will hesitated.

  “Why did you bring me here?” Will finally asked.

  Brody swallowed hard. He didn’t know if it was the right moment, but Julie said time was important, that little Hank, and whomever else Will’s abductor had, might be in danger.

  So he decided to tell him the truth. “Because you’re my brother,” he said gruffly. “All those stories I told you, they were stories about you and how we grew up.” />
  Will’s jaw hardened. “That’s not true, my name is Kyle.”

  Brody met his gaze. “Kyle is the name the man who kidnapped you gave you. Your real name is William Henry Bloodworth.” Pain wrenched his chest. “We lived on a small ranch with our father. But we both loved the rodeo and when you were ten years old, we went to a local rodeo.”

  Will shook his head in denial, but Brody continued. “I was seventeen, your age now. And Julie, Special Agent Whitehead, she was my girlfriend.” Brody leaned forward, his breathing labored as the memory haunted him. “Dad had gone to work a job, and I was supposed to watch you. But Julie and I snuck off to the barn to make out, and I left you in the stands alone. When I returned…” his voice cracked and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You were gone.”

  “I’m not this Will,” he said. “You may want me to be but I’m not. I’m Kyle.”

  “Yes, you are my brother, Will. The DNA results proved it.” Emotions flooded Brody, and he ran his hand through his hair. “I looked for you for years. I dogged the police and FBI, hired private investigators, I told myself I’d never give up. And now you’re here.” His breath rattled out. “I don’t know who took you, but I know he abused you, and…I’m sorry. So sorry that I didn’t protect you. So sorry that you’ve suffered.” God, he wanted to pull his brother in his arms and hug him. “I…wish I could change the past, Will, wish I could take back the horrible things that have happened to you, but I can’t.”

  “I’m not this Will,” he said, although his voice sounded weak this time, and pain darkened his eyes. “So stop saying I am.”

  Brody heaved another breath. His chest was about to explode. “Yes, you are.” He pulled out a copy of the DNA report he’d received from Julie. “Look at that, Will. It verifies that you are my little brother.”

  The boy’s hands shook as he took the paper and read it. When he glanced back up at Brody, anguish flashed across his features, but denial screamed in his eyes. “No…this is wrong. I wasn’t kidnapped. I live with my father and he loves me and…I’m not this Will.”

  Then he raced inside the house and slammed the door. Brody closed his eyes, praying he hadn’t made a mistake by pushing him too hard. Julie said it might take time for Will to come around. To trust him.

  But they didn’t have time.

  Poor little Hank Forte might be getting a beating he didn’t deserve right now.

  * * *

  JOSEPHINE CRANTERA fidgeted in the seat beside the TBI sketch artist. “No, he had thick eyebrows. Dark, sort of pinched together.”

  Julie listened, praying this wasn’t a false lead.

  “Like this?” Ava, the sketch artist asked as she angled herself so Josephine could see the drawing.

  “Yes, yes, that’s good. And his nose was flat, like it had been broken. And he had a scar above his right eye.”

  Julie studied the photo as the woman continued to describe him.

  “His face was longer, narrow,” Josephine said. “And his eyes, brown. Dark. Beady as if he was up to no good.”

  “Where was it you saw him?” Julie asked.

  “Beside the balloons, you know the dart game.”

  Julie nodded. “How old was he?”

  Josephine twisted her skirt in her hands, bunching it up. “A young man, maybe twenties. But there was something off about him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The way he stared at that little boy. It just didn’t feel right.”

  The hairs on the back of Julie’s neck prickled. “Go on.”

  Josephine pressed a hand to her mouth. “It was like he was angry at him, but then he had this strange smile. That’s what made me think about him when I saw the picture of the missing little boy on the news.”

  Julie frowned. The profile of the kidnapper had put him in his twenties when the crimes had just begun, which would make him in his forties now.

  Either this woman was wrong, and this young man had nothing to do with Hank Forte’s disappearance, or…the kidnapper had a partner in crime.

  Josephine squinted at the sketch one more time. “Wait. Something else. He had a birthmark, small but on his neck.” She gestured to the right side. “This side, sort of like a strawberry.”

  Ava added the birthmark then tapped the page. “How is this?”

  “Yes, that’s good,” Josephine said.

  Julie’s heart hammered as she studied the finished sketch. “Let me have that for a minute.”

  Ava handed it to her and she rushed to her computer then pulled up the screen shots of all the victims, including the shots showing the age progression.

  Dear God.

  The sketch of the young man Josephine had seen looked like the first boy who had gone missing twenty years ago.

  Jeremy…

  He was alive.

  Nausea suddenly rose to her throat. He had survived, but judging from Josephine’s account, he was now helping his abductor kidnap other boys.

  * * *

  KYLE PACED the room, his pulse racing. He was not Will Bloodworth, that boy Brody Bloodworth talked about. He had never met the man before, never lived on a ranch with him, never ridden a horse named Tully or played horseshoes.

  His name was Kyle Wylie. He lived with his father and brothers.

  He gave you that name when he took you.

  Brody’s words taunted him. Father did give his sons new names, names so the people who’d thrown them away wouldn’t track them down and hurt them or try to take them away from his family.

  But he was not this man’s brother.

  Why was he trying to make him believe that he was? Why had he brought him here?

  Images of the kids running up to Brody and hugging him flashed back. The other campers at the campout had all been smiling and talking to him, too.

  All day he’d waited for the prison walls to come down. He’d expected to see barbed wire fencing and guards posted around the ranch. To be punished when he’d arrived.

  To go to a dark hole.

  But that hadn’t happened.

  Yet.

  What if today was an act to lull him into trusting them?

  That TBI agent would be back, too. Back with her questions and probing and demands.

  He paced to the window and peeled back the curtain, then stared across the land. No barbed wires or guards. Even the horses ran free and seemed to be treated well.

  A fleeting memory tried to shove through the confusion in his head. When Brody had talked about that rodeo…he had seen images of the barrel racers, of calf-roping contests, of a cowboy on a bull.

  Those images had seemed real.

  But he had never been to a rodeo before.

  He closed his eyes, beating his head with his fists. He had to think straight. Think like his father had taught him. As a soldier would.

  That TBI agent with the gold hair and tender smile was the enemy. So was Brody Bloodworth with his phony DNA report.

  He paced back across the room, then noticed a scrapbook on the table by the bed. Pulse jumping, he picked it up and opened it. A photo of a younger Brody and an older man and a little boy was on the first page. The little boy had sandy-brown hair and freckles and was staring up at Brody as if he was his hero.

  That boy must be the Will Brody talked about. The one he thought was him.

  The man was confused. He belonged to Father.

  Still, curiosity nagged at him, and he flipped the pages. Images of the two brothers together filled his vision. In one picture, Will was about three and was riding on the same horse with Brody. In another when he was a little older, it looked as if Brody was teaching the kid how to ride. Then there were pictures of Brody winning barrel races, of him playing baseball on a high school team. Of Brody teaching Will how to ride a bike
.

  Then one of the horseshoe game.

  His stomach cramped, and Kyle slammed the book shut, then threw it across the room. That had been a happy family.

  But it wasn’t his and it never would be.

  He had to go back to Father. Make sure the other boys weren’t being punished because of him.

  Footsteps pounded on the steps in the hall, and Will flipped the lights in the room off, kicked off his shoes and crawled into the bed.

  He’d wait until Brody was asleep then he’d find a way to escape. He’d seen a Jeep parked beside a truck outside when they’d arrived.

  He’d take the vehicle and hightail it back to his father.

  Try to save little Hank from the hole.

  Footsteps sounded outside the room, and he kept himself locked inside. No way he wanted another confrontation with Brody. Finally sometime after midnight, when the house was dark, he sneaked down the stairs. He wished he had the damn keys to that Jeep, but he could hotwire it in no time.

  He held his breath as he slipped out the front door. Like a good soldier escaping the enemy, he didn’t make a sound as he closed it. The sky was dark, void of stars, the dark clouds shutting out the light.

  It reminded him of the hole.

  Father might put him back there when he returned, but he’d have to risk it. His boots snapped twigs as he crossed to the vehicle, the sound of a horse whinnying in the distance making him pause.

  But he didn’t have time to dwell on it. He had to escape.

  He scanned the area around the Jeep and the pastures but didn’t see anyone, so he eased open the door to the Jeep, then slid in and bent over to try to hotwire the vehicle.

  Suddenly footsteps crunched gravel, echoing in the silence, and he realized someone had seen him. His heart raced. He had to hurry.

  A figure suddenly appeared behind him. He felt it, heard his breathing. He gritted his teeth, fear immobilizing him.

  It was too late to escape. Too late to help little Hank.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Brody fought disappointment as he grabbed the car door. He’d hoped he’d gotten through to Will earlier, maybe triggered some memories, but apparently not.