Undercover Sheriff. Barbara PhinneyЧитать онлайн книгу.
her name on it, his suspicions would only increase. She arched her brows and locked her hands primly against her skirt, one palm ensuring the card remained tucked away. “So, since you are his twin, what is your name?”
“Alex didn’t tell you? You two seem so close.” He paused, his brows lifted and his head tilted slightly to the left as if expecting a prompt answer. When she refused to rise to his provocation, he continued, “My name is Zane Robinson.”
Rachel ignored his cold tone. His brother was missing, so he was bound to be in a foul mood. Still, she frowned. “Alex said his full name was Alexander Zane Robinson.”
“That’s correct. I am Zane Alexander Robinson. Our mother thought it would be whimsical to switch our names.”
“Interesting.” She nodded, all the while hoping to appear unruffled. She was anything but that. In fact, she felt more ruffled by the second. “Why are you here?” she asked, hoping to move the conversation away from the postcard.
Zane did not move. His hand remained extended, waiting for her to relinquish the postcard still tucked safely in her pocket. Obviously, he did not wish to divert the subject. “Why did you just steal that card?”
When she offered no explanation, he continued, “I want it. If you do not hand it over immediately, I will simply take it from you. By force.”
Rachel swallowed. Regardless of her innocent motives, she had stolen something from Alex’s desk, and this man, his identical twin, had more right to it than she did.
Lord, Your spirit is pricking my conscience. Have it work for Your good.
Reluctantly, Rachel dug out the postcard. All she could hope for was that Zane would find it useful in tracking down Alex. “All I wanted to do was study it when I had the time, because I don’t have it now. I would have returned it.” She would have, she told herself fiercely, but the look of doubt on Zane’s face proved he didn’t believe her.
“And the reason for not giving it to his deputy to aid in his investigation? Unless, of course, you are responsible for Alex’s disappearance.”
“I’m not!” She threw back her shoulders. “I have no reason to wish any harm to Alex! I am, in fact, the one who is working the hardest to find him—and I’m just as capable as the deputy is at following a lead. Perhaps better than him. Otherwise, he would have already found this card himself. He has just admitted to me this very morning that he hasn’t yet searched this room because Alex was at the sheriff’s office, and before that, at the saloon, and had not been here for several hours before he was last seen. The deputy didn’t think searching here would help, whereas I do. That’s why I’m here. I’m retracing his last day starting in the morning.”
“Really?” Zane’s extended hand did not waver, for she had not yet returned the card. “Leads can take a person to places where ladies such as you should never go.”
A snicker escaped her lips before she could stop it. “You, sir, have no idea where I have gone. Regardless, this postcard could hold clues to your brother’s location. That’s the only reason I took it.”
Oh, who are you kidding here? You’re also afraid you’ll be implicated in his disappearance.
Ignoring the sudden internal accusation, Rachel opened the folded card slowly. It was a picture postcard of Castle Rock, the town just a few miles southeast on the same railway line that led up to Denver. The imposing butte jutted up in the picture’s background, an ugly formation Rachel knew was normally covered with mining paraphernalia, but in this romantically painted landscape, the artist had removed all that trash. She hastily committed the image to memory before turning it over. Beneath the standard postcard printing was her name, written at an upward angle. She didn’t recognize the handwriting, but knew that few people in Proud Bend—assuming the writer lived here and not in Castle Rock—could manage such smooth, readable cursive.
Zane tugged the card from her grip, obviously impatient with her delay. After studying it himself, he glanced up at her. “It has your name on it, Miss Smith.”
Rachel swallowed. “Yes. I can read.”
“It’s in my brother’s handwriting.”
She lifted her brows, all the while trying her best to stay reserved. She was anything but that. What Zane had just said answered one of her questions but added others. Why had Alex written her name on a postcard from the next town? Where did he get this card? Had he traveled to Castle Rock in the course of his investigation into Rosa’s disappearance? If so, why take a postcard and waste it by writing only her name on it?
Worry bit into Rachel. Lord, You know where they are. Lead us to them. Rosa wanted to give her life to the Lord, she’d told Rachel hesitantly, and the next day she had promised Rachel she would help her in her ministry to the misguided women who had fallen into a life of prostitution in Proud Bend. That had been over a month ago, for today was the seventh of December. Rosa had gone missing ten days ago. Rachel had gone straight to Alex the day after she’d disappeared. Two days after that, Alex had vanished, as well. So far, she’d found no clues to his whereabouts—except for this card. It might have nothing to do with Rosa, but if it wasn’t important, why keep it? It had been the only thing in a drawer that by now should have been littered with various small items.
“How did you get in here?” Interrupting her thoughts, Zane glanced around the room. “Did my brother give you his key?”
Rachel flushed. “Mrs. Shrankhof unlocked the room for me. Since I’m not privy to Alex’s official files on Rosa and Daniel—”
“Rosa? Daniel?” Zane looked baffled as he cut her off. “Who are they?”
“Rosa Carrera is a friend.” Rachel clipped her words, not wanting to mention the woman’s former profession. “Daniel is her young son, a toddler. They disappeared a few days before Alex did. I reported it.”
“Perhaps they moved away?”
Rachel shook her head. “She’d spent the weeks before her disappearance helping me with my ministry, and she was committed to the cause. She wouldn’t have just left. Besides, none of their things are missing—nor did she say goodbye to anyone.”
“Just what is this ministry of yours?”
She hesitated. She’d hoped to avoid specifying, worried that Zane would lose interest in the disappearance if he discovered that it applied to the unfortunates that society usually considered beneath their notice.
“I minister to the soiled doves of Proud Bend, and attempt to bring them to God.”
He eyed her shrewdly. “And Rosa helped you in this ministry? Was she a soiled dove, as well?”
“She used to be,” Rachel admitted.
“Maybe she returned to her old habits?”
“No, she has given her life to God.” Rachel folded her arms. “Obviously you’re not a Christian, to be so willing to discount the work of the Holy Spirit.”
Zane raised his brows, looking insulted. “I assure you, Miss Smith, nothing could be further from the truth.”
Rachel studied him. Although she couldn’t say why, she believed his words. She had no proof, save the indignant look. She had no proof that Alex’s disappearance was related to Rosa’s, either, but like Zane’s answer, she knew it to be true.
His scowl returned. “So you reported her disappearance to Alex?”
“Yes, but as soon as he opened an investigation, he went missing, too.” Rachel bit her lip. Had Alex somehow given up on this town and abandoned his duties? Had the work here proved too much for Proud Bend’s new sheriff? Too much stress and anxiety?
Automatically, Rachel’s thoughts moved to her childhood friend, Bea. Hard times had hit Bea’s family and by the time Rachel and Bea were eighteen, Bea had turned to prostitution to help make ends meet. A year later, in a fit of remorse for her choices, Bea had taken