Fearless Gunfighter. Joanna WayneЧитать онлайн книгу.
Rachel again. Get out there, look over the town and the area, talk to people while we’re gathering as much information as we can on the missing girls. You’ve got a talent for noting what most people miss. Use it.”
“I’ll need an identity.”
“In the works. Lane will be forwarding you a driver’s license and establishing the background materials. You’re Syd Cotton, a freelance travel/ photographer from New York. It’s your first time to this area of Texas, so naturally you’ll be asking lots of questions and nosing around.”
“I’ll stick to that until you tell me differently.”
“I’ll be in touch around noon and, Sydney, glad to have you aboard. I think you’ll be a real asset to our team.”
As excited as she was to be on the insider team, the thought of working undercover made her uncomfortable. She’d planned to question the staff in the bakery, see what they remembered about Rachel.
Now the best she could do was look around. She didn’t see how much could come of that. It was difficult to imagine a madman choosing his victims as they enjoyed their morning scones and coffee.
But then, stranger things had happened.
* * *
THE TOWN OF Winding Creek was like a movie set re-creation of the Old West. The low wooden buildings had surely been standing since gambler brawls and gunslingers overflowed from the bars and into the narrow streets.
Only now the stores sold fragrant candles, silver Christmas ornaments, sequined Western shirts and stylish cowboy boots. Main Street, with its brightly painted benches, pots filled with flowers in full bloom and even a few hitching posts along the curb, was so quaint it almost seemed a facade.
A horse trailer pulled by an oversize black pickup truck squeaked to a stop at a traffic light.
Two elderly gentlemen in denim coveralls slouched on one of the benches, their Western hats pulled low over their foreheads to block the sun. Crumbs from the giant cinnamon rolls they were devouring fell from their mouths to the front of their shirts.
Even more intriguing were the smiles and nods and the tipping of straw Stetsons from strangers. It was easy to see why Rachel had felt it worthwhile to take a side trip to Winding Creek. It was far more difficult to imagine evil lurking among the smiles and welcoming shops.
But somewhere between the bakery and the resort, something had gone terribly wrong. Sydney picked up her pace and hastened the last half block to the bakery.
Her pulse quickened as she stepped inside Dani’s Delights. She was struck immediately by the shop’s mouthwatering odors and glass cases filled with tempting pastries. The attractive redhead behind the counter was pouring coffee into tall white mugs as she chatted and laughed with her customers.
Sydney sidestepped the line of about a half dozen people waiting for service. The morning rush hour was apparently in full swing with at least half the square metal tables occupied. The noise level was high as the occupants communicated with not only the friends at their table but those sitting several tables away.
The small-town atmosphere registered solidly in Sydney’s mind. There seemed to be few strangers in the group, but then, this was half past eight on a weekday morning. The clientele might be vastly different on a Saturday afternoon when Rachel had been here.
Sydney scanned the space. Blue painted shelves filled with inexpensive gift items lined the left wall. A display of unique pottery pieces filled eye-catching mahogany shelves near a back staircase.
Sydney was immediately drawn to the vases, pitchers and bowls in the pottery area, as she was certain her sister would have been. Sydney picked up and checked the price on the bottom of a small but striking vase glazed in the earthy colors Rachel loved.
Ninety-five dollars. More than the amount Rachel had charged. Sydney checked additional items. There were several bowls and pots in the sixty-to seventy-dollar price range.
“They’re made by a local artist.”
The voice startled Sydney. She spun around and found herself looking into the expressive eyes of the redhead who’d been serving coffee. A quick glance back at the counter revealed that there was no longer a line.
“The potter does beautiful work,” Sydney responded. “I have a sister who’d love the colors and designs.”
“You should bring her in or take her to visit the artist’s studio. She has a lot more choices than I can display. I can give you her card if you’re interested.”
“Yes, please do.”
“Do you live around here?”
Sydney took a few seconds to compose a response that Jackson would approve. “I live in New York but I’m certainly enjoying your charming town.”
“Do you have family in Winding Creek?”
“No. Actually I’m here for work.”
“Now you’ve piqued my curiosity. What kind of work brings you to our small town?”
“I’m a freelancer. I do travel articles for a variety of magazines and newspapers. I’m thinking this one will feature Winding Creek but include the surrounding area and some interesting anecdotes about the inhabitants.”
“You’ll meet no shortage of interesting people, that’s for sure. Where are you staying?”
“I’m at the motel for now but I hope to find something a little roomier and with some atmosphere.”
“There are several popular B and Bs in town that would fit that description.”
The bell over the front door dinged as a couple of middle-aged women walked in.
“Best get back to my duties, but if you’ll stop by the counter before you go, I’ll give you the addresses for the B and Bs and the pottery studio.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate that. And, of course, I want to try your coffee and a pastry before I go.”
“Good. I hope you become a regular while you’re here.”
“I’m sure I will. Do you work every day?”
“Except on rare occasions. I’m Dani, the owner and creator of all the delights. Well, except for the bread. My hubby is fast taking over in that department.”
“Sounds like a keeper.”
“He definitely is.”
Sydney took another look around the shop and then walked to the counter and got in line behind a woman who was choosing an assortment of cupcakes. The bell over the door dinged again and this time it was two extremely good-looking cowboys who sauntered in.
Brothers, she’d bet from their strong resemblance. One looked a bit familiar. She stared until she realized why.
He was the suspicious stranger she’d tried to follow when he’d left the bar last night.
He looked different all cleaned up, but there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that it was the same man. He’d made a point of ignoring her attempts at conversation last night. He might not be that dismissive and rude since he wasn’t alone.
She went for her most seductive smile and looked him in the eye as he approached the counter.
“Remember me, Tucker Lawrence?”
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