Free Sunrise Crossing by Jodi Thomas Page B

his childhood.
    Silently, he moved closer. The house might be dark and look like the perfect setting for a horror movie, but there was movement from what appeared to be a new barn.
    For a while he stood watching the inside of the barn through the sliver of light. A young couple worked side by side. The man was tall and lean with dark hair. The woman was small, but it didn’t take much to realize that she was more skilled than the man.
    He couldn’t tell if they were even talking. He only saw them cross the light as they worked. They were obviously comfortable with each other, for they often moved close together.
    He knew he should go, but something drew Gabe to the light. These people were on land that he’d once thought would someday belong to him.
    Finally, the woman laughed and lifted her head. Long black hair swayed past her waist. Something clicked in Gabe’s brain.
    He’d seen her before? But where?
    Then she turned and he saw her face. The pieces tumbled together in his mind.
    He recognized her, not from having seen her in person—but from a picture.
    She was the woman he’d traveled halfway across the country to find for his contact back in Detroit. They wanted to know where she was. They were offering good money. Dead or alive. The people who hired him to find her said they didn’t much care which.
    He should finish the job and move on. Grab her, tie her up in the truck’s sleeper if she wouldn’t come peacefully and take her back. It wasn’t his job to worry about what happened to her after that.
    But Gabe didn’t move. He simply stood in the darkness and watched.

CHAPTER TWELVE
    Periwinkle starlight
    P ARKER DUG THROUGH old boxes of files that should have been thrown away years ago. It was almost midnight and she was running out of time. She had to find the name of the cowboy who’d sold her that farm in West Texas. He might be her only chance.
    She’d never bothered to remember the names of people who weren’t in the art world. After all, there were hundreds of gifted and brilliant people worth knowing, so why bother with those who don’t even have a membership to a public gallery?
    Parker realized she sounded like a snob. She was a snob. Her parents had been snobs. They’d sent her to all the right schools where snobs send their children. And she’d also learned young never to be too open, never to trust completely, never to get involved in other people’s lives or let them too close to you.
    But now she did need someone to trust, and after three days of looking, she had come up with no one.
    The cowboy seemed to be the last on a short list of people who might help and keep quiet about it.
    Finally, she found the deed. The amount she’d paid for the farm made her smile. She remembered the guy had been taller than she was, bone-thin, dust-covered, and had had dead eyes. If she’d offered him half the price, he probably would have taken it. Neither of them had bothered to try to make conversation when they’d signed the papers. He hadn’t even removed his hat. He’d just sat across the table, his arms folded over his chest like the world could end any moment and he couldn’t have cared less.
    Parker didn’t like the idea of having to call him. Even his name sounded like it should be a character in a Western. Clint Montgomery.
    She walked to the window of her town house and peeked through a tiny break in the curtains. The beefy guy who’d claimed to be an FBI agent was still there on the corner, circled in pastel blue light. He had been for several days, either him or someone who looked just like him. If she drove away, she had no doubt they’d follow. If she booked a flight or took the bus, they’d probably be in the seat behind her. She might not be much of a lead to finding Victoria, but she might be the only one they had.
    Parker had thought of calling the FBI and asking if they were really