Free McCullen's Secret Son (The Heroes Of Horseshoe Creek Book 2) by Rita Herron Page B

closer to his father in this room. He envisioned Joe resting in his big recliner with his nightly shot of bourbon, a book in his hand, his head lolling to the side as he nodded off.
    Maddox gave him an odd look, then at least pretended to buy the lie. Brett was grateful for that.
    But he picked up his and Willow’s plates and tea glasses and carried them to the kitchen, anxious to leave.
    The day was passing quickly, and he didn’t want Willow to spend another night without her son.
    * * *
    E ARLY AFTERNOON SUNLIGHT faded beneath the gray clouds as Brett maneuvered the long drive to Hicks Howard’s farm. The place was miles from nowhere and looked as if it hadn’t been operational in years. Run-down outbuildings, overgrown pastures and a muddy pond added to the neglected feel.
    If Leo had come here, it had probably been to hide out. But if he was in trouble, whoever he’d crossed had found him anyway.
    Willow checked her phone again, willing it to ring with some word on Sam. Why hadn’t the kidnapper called yet?
    Terrifying scenarios raced through her head, but she forced herself to tune them out. She had to think positive, had to believe that she would bring Sam home.
    Willow tensed, her chest hurting. Maybe she should tell Brett that Sam wasn’t Leo’s now. But...she wasn’t ready for his reaction, for the anger, to explain why she’d kept her secret for so long.
    Granted, she’d had her reasons. Brett had left her to sow his oats. He hadn’t wanted to settle down. If he’d stayed around, he would have known about Sam.
    Brett rolled to a stop beside a tractor overgrown by weeds. It looked as if it hadn’t been used in a decade. A rusted pickup covered in mud sat under an aluminum shed.
    As he approached, a mangy-looking gray cat darted beneath the porch of the wooden house. Boards were rotting on the floor, and the shutters were weathered, paint peeling.
    Brett knocked on the door, and a noise sounded inside. Something banging, maybe a hammer. He knocked louder this time, and a minute later, the hammering stopped and a man yelled to hang on.
    The door opened and a craggy, thin, balding man leaning on a walker stared up at them over wire-rimmed glasses. “If you’re selling something, I don’t want it.”
    “We’re not selling anything. We just want to talk.” Brett gestured to Willow, and she introduced herself.
    “Mr. Howard, I was married to your son, Leo.”
    “What?” The man grunted as he shifted his weight. “I hate to say it, honey, but you don’t look like Leo’s type.” He raked his gaze up and down her body. “My son usually goes for the more showy girls.”
    Remembering Doris, she understood his point. “Did Leo tell you he was married?”
    The older man scratched at the beard stubble on his chin. “No, but he didn’t come around much.”
    “Why was that?” Brett asked.
    Mr. Howard wrinkled his nose. “Why you folks asking about my son? Is he in some kind of trouble?”
    “Would it surprise you if I said he was?” Brett asked.
    “No. Leo was always messing up, skirting the law. From the time he was a teenager, he hated this farm. I was never good enough for him, never made enough money.” He gestured at the walker and his bum leg. “When he left here, he said he was going to show me that he wasn’t stupid like me. That he’d be rich one day.”
    “Was he?” Willow asked.
    Howard shrugged. “About five years ago he came back with a duffel bag of money, all puffed up with himself. But when I asked him how he got it, he hem-hawed around.”
    “You thought he’d gotten it illegally?” Willow asked.
    His head bobbed up and down. “I confronted him, and that’s when he came at me.” He gestured toward his leg. “That’s how come I had my accident.”
    Willow’s pulse hammered. Leo had caused his father’s accident? No wonder he hadn’t told her about him...
    * * *
    T HE MORE B RETT learned about Leo Howard, the less he liked him. “Did he give you an indication as