Dakota glanced over at him, saw his freshly scratched face in the glow of the afternoon sun coming through the window and could guess what was about to happen.
Once the sheriff saw the scratches, she wouldn’t need to hear about the phone conversation Dakota’d had with Courtney in the wee hours this morning. Nor would the sheriff need to see the bloody phone from under Zane’s bed before hauling him off to jail.
Common sense told Dakota, given the evidence, jail was probably the best place for him. But not if she had any hope of him helping her find her sister.
“Here’s what I want you to do,” she said as the sheriff’s footfalls echoed on the old wooden porch. “Go in the bathroom and stay there. Let me handle this.”
Zane shook his head as the sheriff knocked at the front door. “If you think I’m going to hide behind your skirts—”
“What you’re going to do is help me find Courtney, and you can’t very well do that behind bars,” Dakota said through gritted teeth as the sheriff knocked again. “Turn on the shower. There’s something I haven’t told you about Courtney. Now trust me.”
She shot him an impatient look and waited until he disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door before she went to answer the sheriff’s third knock.
AS THE DOOR SWUNG OPEN, Sheriff McCall Crawford couldn’t help her surprise.
“Dakota Lansing?” McCall said. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” She’d been several years ahead of Dakota and they’d gone to different schools—McCall in Whitehorse, while Dakota had gone to Chinook—but they’d crossed paths because of sports.
“I’ve been living in New Mexico. I only recently returned. For my father’s funeral,” she added.
“Yes, I heard. I’m sorry.” The sheriff looked past her. “Is Zane around, by any chance?”
“He’s in the shower, but you’re welcome to come in.” She stepped back and McCall entered the house. “He’s getting ready so we can go out for dinner.”
McCall glanced around the small house. There wasn’t much to see. Zane Chisholm obviously wasn’t into decorating. She doubted he spent much time here.
“I came out to talk to Zane, but since you’re here …” McCall said. “Is there a problem I should know about?”
Dakota looked confused by the question. “A problem?”
“I got a call that there was a domestic disturbance out here.”
“When was that?”
“Twenty minutes ago,” McCall said.
Dakota let out a laugh. “You didn’t really take that call seriously, did you? The closest neighbor is a half mile away. Hard to really see or hear a domestic disturbance, unless of course they said there was gunfire involved.”
“True,” McCall said. “Unless, of course, you made the call.”
“I can assure you, I didn’t call. But I suspect caller ID would have confirmed that,” Dakota said.
The sheriff smiled. She remembered Dakota Lansing as being smart and capable. “Just had to check. Actually the call came from a woman who said she was your sister.”
“Courtney?”
McCall saw that she now had Dakota’s attention. “Is Courtney Baxter your sister?”
“My half sister. Long story. Why would she make a call like that? I haven’t seen her for several days.”
“Good question.” McCall glanced toward the bathroom door. She could hear the shower still running. Zane Chisholm took an awfully long shower.
As she felt the baby kick, McCall rested her hand on her swollen belly. For a moment she was lost in that amazing feeling. The whole pregnancy had been like this, stolen moments from her job when she felt as if she wanted to pinch herself. She just couldn’t believe she and Luke were having a baby.
“Is it possible your sister is jealous?” McCall asked as she turned to leave. “I heard Zane was out with a pretty blonde last night. Apparently they were celebrating rather hard.”
Compliments of the Whitehorse grapevine first thing this morning. McCall even knew that Courtney Baxter had been wearing a very sexy red dress. Who needed Twitter? No one in this county, she thought.
That Courtney was Dakota Lansing’s half sister had come as a surprise. The scuttlebutt now around town was that the girl was the product of an affair Clay Lansing had years ago.
“I actually set up the date,” Dakota said. “I knew the two of them would hit it off. Zane and I are just friends. But I can understand why Courtney might be jealous after a date with Zane. He is a catch.”
McCall nodded as she glanced into the kitchen and bedroom, saw the unmade bed and figured this was merely a case of sibling rivalry. “Well, you two have a nice supper. Have Zane give me a call when he gets a chance.”
As she started for the front door, she heard a cell phone ring from somewhere in the bedroom. “If that’s your sister calling, please tell her I’d like to talk to her, too,” McCall said, and let herself out.
DAKOTA LET OUT THE BREATH she’d been holding since the moment she’d realized it was Courtney’s cell phone ringing. Zane had left it lying on the crumpled covers of the bed. Fortunately it had been out of the sheriff’s sight.
She hurried into the bedroom and gingerly picked up the phone. Private caller. “Hello?”
No answer, but she could hear breathing on the line. “Who is this? Courtney? If that’s you—”
Whoever it was hung up.
Dakota stood holding the phone for a moment, then quickly dropped it back on the bed. She felt a rush of anger. Courtney was fine. She’d called the sheriff twenty minutes ago. She must have seen Dakota’s pickup parked in front of Zane’s house from the county road.
Or she’d called so the sheriff would see Zane’s scratched face.
“What are you up to, Courtney?” Dakota said to the empty bedroom. No good, that much she was sure of. “And what really happened here last night?”
The room provided few answers. Unless you read something into the crumpled sheets on the bed. She felt a surge of anger mixed with something she didn’t want to admit. Jealousy. Zane had gone out with her sister. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She swore under her breath.
Too bad he hadn’t felt that way when they were kids, Dakota thought, remembering how he’d pushed her away.
“You’re just a kid,” he’d said when she tried to hang around him at the rodeo grounds. “Go on. Find someone your own age to bug.”
She ground her teeth at the memory. She’d had the worst crush on him. And, stupidly, she’d written it all down in her diary, every horrible tearful account, including her conviction: Zane doesn’t know it, but some day I’m going to marry him.
Two days ago, when she’d realized that someone had been in her things, she’d discovered that her diary and some old photographs were missing. Courtney. She was the only one who could have taken the diary.
Now Dakota wondered when Courtney had taken it. Two weeks ago—about the same time that someone had mysteriously signed Zane Chisholm up for a dating service?
It was no coincidence that Courtney had tricked Zane into a date. Dakota was sure of that. Courtney had the diary. She knew how her sister had felt about Zane. So Courtney had done this out of meanness?
What had she hoped to accomplish by this? More than sibling rivalry, Dakota