Lullaby and Goodnight Read online

  With the receipt in hand, Rafe appeared to relax, and said he looked forward to checking into a hotel. For her part, Rhianna wanted a hot shower, maybe room service and a romantic evening with Rafe. As he led her through the hotel lobby toward the elevator, he spoke softly in her ear. “Do you realize this is our first night alone together in almost a year?”

  Rhianna tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Is Allison cramping your style?”

  “I’ve learned to schedule around her,” Rafe admitted without an ounce of complaint entering his tone. His eyes shone with sincerity, while revealing a banked sensuality that tripped her pulse. “But I’m looking forward to having you all to myself.”

  Rhianna wanted this time with Rafe. They’d had so little romance in their relationship. Everything had been done out of order. She and Rafe had never been on a date. Yet they had a child together. They’d suffered through a crisis together, but were not yet married and had never had a honeymoon. They’d never really had time to explore one another at a less-than-frenetic pace except for that one night in the tub. Tonight she ached to put aside the possibility of the Suttons losing the ranch. She wanted to forget the kidnapper had never been caught. She just wanted to have a romantic evening with the man she loved.

  Maybe if he trusted her, really trusted her, he would confide in her and reveal why he still resisted marriage. She believed he loved her. Knew he loved his daughter. And she wanted them to be a family in every way. Rhianna vowed to have patience. Rafe had told her he loved her, and she wouldn’t press for more. Not yet. She would give Rafe all the time she could. And she refused to think about what she would do if time ran out.

  Nothing was going to spoil this evening. With a smile on her face, Rhianna had tucked in a nightgown of sheer emerald lace, a color that brought out the highlights in her eyes. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Rafe’s face when she wore it for him.

  Rafe opened the door and Rhianna sucked in a gasp. She’d traveled the country with her family, often staying in budget hotels. She’d never seen a room like this, with a cozy fireplace tucked in a corner, a desk with a massive bouquet of fresh flowers, a computer, a fax machine and a spare phone, a king-size bed with a satin coverlet folded back to reveal crisp white sheets.

  She twirled around and sat on the bed, bouncing with abandon. “Rafe, can we afford all this?”

  “One night won’t break us.” With a smile at her pleasure, he sat beside her and kicked off his shoes, then lay back with his hands laced behind his head. “Someday we’ll come back and spend a week.”

  That sounded good to Rhianna. Rafe didn’t refer to their future together often, so whenever he did, she cherished the moment, locking it away like a keep-sake, taking it out to examine when she doubted they had a future together. But now was not the time for deep thinking.

  Rhianna scooted next to Rafe and started to unbutton his shirt. The phone rang and her fear thudded through her. “Allison!”

  The baby she’d left with Laura was never far from her thoughts.

  Rafe picked up the phone and motioned for Rhianna to listen on the extension. “Hello?”

  She hurried to the desk, telling herself she’d just spoken to Laura less than an hour ago and the baby had been fine then. But babies could come down with fevers quickly.

  Get a grip.

  Even if Allison had taken sick, Cameron would know what to do. So why did she feel so guilty for leaving Allison?

  Rhianna picked up the receiver, prepared to hear Laura speak. But the voice was male. Unfamiliar. “Mr. Sutton?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is Mr. McPherson from the Weston Auction House.” A wave of relief washed over Rhianna and weakened her knees. She sank into the nearest chair as the stranger continued, “I’m afraid we have a problem.”

  Oh, no. Had the art been damaged? Rhianna looked across at Rafe. His expression remained stoic, but she could see a hint of despair in his eyes. Since they hadn’t finished the roundup and the cattle remained unsold, they needed to sell the Rovells to meet the ranch’s mortgage payment.

  “What kind of problem?” Rafe asked.

  Mr. McPherson’s voice remained brief and businesslike. “I’d prefer to discuss this in person. Could we meet at the auction house in an hour?”

  “Look, we’ve spent the day flying from Highview to Denver. Then we crated the art and flew to New York. We’re tired. Can’t we settle this on the phone?”

  “That’s up to you, sir. The Rovells aren’t here.”

  Rafe rubbed his forehead. “What do you mean, they aren’t there? We saw them unloaded. I have a receipt for them.”

  It seemed as if Murphy’s Law was haunting them—everything that could go wrong would go wrong.

  “Have they been stolen?” Rhianna asked, unable to keep the horror from her tone.

  “Not from us. We unwrapped crates of framed posters, not original art.”

  “Posters?” Rafe asked.

  “Someone pulled a switch. I suggest you call the police,” McPherson suggested. Before he hung up, he gave them a phone number where they could reach him that evening.

  Rhianna put down the phone, shocked. Rafe had already grabbed a pad and pen and begun making notes, and she could only marvel at his presence of mind in the face of another disaster.

  She came over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, knowing their romantic evening had been ruined. “What are you doing?”

  “Making a list. We saw the Denver museum pack the art. We saw the art placed in the delivery truck. We followed the delivery truck to the airport, where we watched them load the art onto the plane. Then we saw the art come off the plane in New Jersey, and we followed the van to the auction house. So where was the switch made?”

  “Maybe at the auction house after it arrived?” Rhianna suggested.

  Rafe wrote her idea on his pad. “It’s possible, but unlikely. I’m sure their security is tight.”

  “But that art wasn’t out of our sight during the entire trip.”

  “Sure it was,” Rafe argued. “We didn’t actually ride in the trucks or the cargo hold of the plane.”

  “No one could have switched the art during the airplane ride because the cargo hold isn’t pressurized.”

  “Okay, let’s concentrate on the two trucks. In Denver, we watched them crate the art and place it inside the truck.”

  “And then we went to get our car,” Rhianna reminded him. “We took what? Maybe two minutes before we caught up to the truck outside.”

  “Probably more like five minutes. Not long enough to unload the art and reload the fakes.”

  Rhianna’s mind switched from shock into over-drive as adrenaline flooded her. “Suppose someone simply switched the trucks?”

  Rafe looked at her in amazement. Then he leaned over and kissed her. “You’re brilliant.”

  She leaned into the kiss, threaded her fingers through his hair, enjoying his appreciation of her suggestion. “Shouldn’t we call the police?”

  “Yes. And I’m also going to phone Dad and have him start the Denver authorities investigating.” Rafe stood and held out his hand to help her to her feet. “Sorry, but we need to fly back tonight.”

  “I understand.”

  Regret darkened his eyes. “Taking the red-eye is not how I planned to spend the night.”

  “There’ll be other nights,” she promised him, hoping that before they landed back in Denver the missing Rovells would be found.

  AS SOON AS THE PILOT gave permission and they’d landed in Denver, Rafe powered up his cell phone and called the senator. “Any news?”

  Rhianna unbuckled her seat belt and stepped into the crowded aisle. His father’s voice came through the air waves loud and strong. “The Rovells are still missing, but I think you should pay Duncan Phillips another visit.”

  “Why Duncan?”

  At Rafe’s question, Rhianna’s brows went up. He leaned toward her and tilted the cell phone so they both could hear his father’s answe
r. “You thought the trucks that transported the art might have pulled off a switch, right? Well, guess who owns the coast-to-coast trucking company?”

  “Duncan?” Rafe guessed. Just when he’d been thinking the number one suspect behind his troubles had to be the Stones or Judge Stuart, new suspicions about Duncan arose. Duncan had been at the party the night Rafe and Rhianna had made love. Jealousy could have caused Duncan to stalk Rhianna, with his ultimate goal being to get her back when she needed help. He could have kidnapped Rhianna and forced the Suttons to pay the ransom with one evil purpose in mind—to make Rhianna come back to him when the Suttons couldn’t make the mortgage payments.

  Duncan Phillips had the means, opportunity and motive to pull off the series of criminal acts. He also had the arrogance to think he could get away with it. Rafe wished Rhianna weren’t with him. He ached to confront Duncan alone.

  As they exited the airplane, Rhianna bit her lip, a troubled look in her eyes. “I didn’t know Duncan owned a trucking company.”

  Rafe spoke through teeth clenched in anger. “Apparently, there’s a lot about the man we don’t know.”

  “Who picked Duncan’s trucking company to ship the Rovells?” Rhianna asked.

  “Good question.” Whenever he thought how poorly Duncan had treated Rhianna, Rafe’s blood pressure went up. Thinking that the man might have deliberately stolen the art so the Suttons couldn’t make the payments on the land made Rafe furious. Realizing that Duncan could have been the man who’d kidnapped Rhianna and put her and Allison’s lives in danger made it impossible for Rafe to concentrate on the facts. But he had to. They had no proof that Duncan had done anything wrong.

  Right now, Rhianna’s thinking was clearer than Rafe’s. At least she wanted to pin down the facts. Rafe took out his cell phone and dialed the Denver museum. The curator wasn’t in but her assistant gave him her home phone number.

  Marie’s sleepy voice answered the telephone. “Yes?”

  “This is Rafe Sutton. Sorry to wake you, but we think the Rovells were stolen off the truck. Did you pick the shipping company?”

  “Yes. I did. They came highly recommended.”

  Rafe frowned, wishing he’d gotten more sleep. He had the feeling he was missing something besides their luggage, which had failed to show up at the baggage claim. “Don’t you use a standard company?”

  “We don’t often need to hire an entire truck. You have an exceptionally large collection,” Marie told him.

  “So who recommended the trucking company?” Rafe asked.

  “Hal Stone said they were the best.” Marie yawned, but her voice became defensive. “I had no reason to doubt Mr. Stone.”

  “Thank you for the help, Ms. Valencia.”

  Rafe took Rhianna’s hand and headed for their parked car. “Hal recommended that the museum use Duncan’s company.”

  “Hal’s always offering his opinions,” Rhianna said. She must have caught the look of speculation in Rafe’s eyes. “What? You think Hal and Duncan are in cahoots against us?”

  “I don’t know.” Rafe unlocked the car door. “I’m tired. Hal might not even know that the company he recommended belonged to Duncan.”

  Rhianna put on her seat belt and rubbed her eyes as Rafe started the car. “Where’re we going now?”

  “We need to talk to Duncan.”

  “It’s six in the morning.”

  Rafe pulled into Duncan’s home before seven. He didn’t care if he disturbed Duncan’s sleep. He didn’t care if Duncan didn’t want to see him. Rafe wanted answers.

  Duncan, fully dressed in a suit and tie, answered the front door. “I can’t help you.”

  Rafe walked right into the posh foyer without waiting for an invitation. Rhianna stayed at his side, frowning at Duncan. “You don’t seem surprised to see us.”

  “I figured you’d come to me.” Duncan smirked at Rhianna and jerked his thumb at Rafe. “I just didn’t expect you to bring him.”

  “Why not?” Rafe challenged with a lift of one brow that he hoped irritated the man as much as Duncan’s attitude grated on him.

  Rhianna stepped between the two men. “Duncan, we came because you own a trucking company that transported art—”

  “Sutton art,” Rafe interrupted.

  “—from the Denver museum to the airport,” Rhianna explained. “Only the art never arrived at Newark airport. Someone switched the trucks. We got posters and the art vanished in one of your other trucks.”

  “Can you prove that?” Duncan asked. When Rafe hesitated, Duncan shook his head and folded his arms over his chest. “And you suspect me?”

  “We didn’t say that.” Rhianna glared at Duncan, and Rafe applauded her silently for standing up to the bully.

  Duncan practically growled a threat at Rhianna. “You’d better not make accusations you can’t back up.”

  Rafe would have liked nothing more than to plant his fist in the man’s sneering face. Instead he decided to hit Duncan where it would hurt more—in his pocket. “I’ll expect a check from you to cover our losses this morning.”

  Duncan shook his head. “My insurance company handles all the claims.”

  Phillips Insurance. Was there a company in Denver the man didn’t own? Rafe took Rhianna’s hand, knowing the intimacy would annoy Duncan. “Fine. I’m sure your check will be good.”

  Duncan rocked back on his heels. “It’s not that easy.”

  “What do you mean?” Rhianna asked.

  “My insurance company can’t release any funds until the police investigation is over. And you know the law enforcement people are overworked and underpaid. I expect the investigation could take months!” Duncan exclaimed. He was practically gloating.

  Rafe didn’t let the effect of Duncan’s words show on his face. They didn’t have months. They had only a few more days to make the next mortgage payment.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rhianna couldn’t believe that she’d let Rafe talk her into breaking and entering the Stones’ house. Actually, he’d tried to insist that she stay on the Sutton ranch with Allison, but she’d refused to let him take all the risks alone. His family wouldn’t be close to losing the ranch if they hadn’t paid her ransom, so she would go with Rafe even if she thought what he intended was dead wrong.

  Since the Stones were still in New York, no doubt hoping the art would be found and that they could buy it, Rafe thought today a perfect one to do some snooping. Rhianna looked through the windshield at the mountains and wondered who would take care of Allison if they both were caught and sent to jail. But she didn’t voice her worry. Clearly Rafe already had too much on his mind.

  A man of contrasts, he drove with the casual demeanor of a Colorado native accustomed to steep roads, sharp switchbacks and loose gravel, yet his eyes burned with steel-gray boldness and quiet determination. His shoulders were relaxed under his denim shirt, but a muscle in his jaw ticked as he whistled a country tune.

  Rhianna looked at the wind-whipped trees beneath the low storm clouds and shivered. She knew all about the seductive beauty of the Colorado high country. But she wasn’t deceived by the season. Even in summer, the thin air made the chill lodge in her bones. “Are we going to hide the car and hike in?”

  Rafe shook his head. “Looks like rain. I’d prefer to drive through the front gate.”

  “But don’t the Stones have a caretaker for the house while they are out of town?”

  “I don’t think so. They keep a groomsman and exercise boy for the horses at the far end of the property.”

  Rhianna tried to recall the layout. The last time there, she’d been in labor and distracted by her circumstances. All she could remember was that the cabin had been far enough away from the main house that if she’d shouted for help, no one could have heard her. She’d never seen a barn, but the Stone property was a large one, at least a few thousand acres. They didn’t raise cattle on their hilly land, but kept the place as a second or maybe third home, to visit during ski season or during
Colorado’s glorious summers.

  “Suppose someone sees us?” Rhianna asked, though she thought that unlikely with the way the rain streamed down. Anyone with sense would hole up under a dry roof next to a warm fire.

  “I’ll ask to be let into Hal’s study.”

  “But—then Hal will know we’ve been here.”

  “So? I’ll simply say my cell phone went dead and we needed to make a call. Will you relax?”

  “And if no one sees us?”

  The corner of Rafe’s mouth turned up. “Then we won’t have to explain our presence, will we?”

  Rhianna sighed. Rafe seemed to have an answer for everything. He didn’t appear uneasy about blatantly driving through the rain to the Stones’ home and prying into their personal belongings. He seemed to have nerves of steel.

  “What exactly will we be looking for?” Rhianna asked, raising her voice to be heard over the patter of pelting rain. “Surely you don’t expect to find the marked ransom money under Hal’s desk?”

  “Now that would be lucky.” Rafe smoothly turned down the private road shaded by tall pine trees. “I’m hoping to find a calendar with notes on it, a diary, maybe a list of phone memos that connect him to the art theft.”

  Rhianna didn’t like the idea of reading the Stones’ diaries, and hoped the situation wouldn’t come up. Uneasy, she shifted in her seat and, through the foggy window, surveyed the house, a massive A-frame with cedar walls and an acre of glass that reflected the mountainside. No dogs barked. No cars stood in the driveway. The home looked deserted, but as Rafe parked by the front walkway, Rhianna felt as if someone might be watching. Yet no curtains moved, and the only sounds besides the pounding rain were the ones she and Rafe made.

  “Now what?”

  Rafe raised an eyebrow. “We knock on the front door.”

  Rhianna tried to calm her racing pulse but it did absolutely no good. Her stomach knotted and twisted, and she was glad she’d skipped breakfast this morning. She wouldn’t make a good thief and was sure that her trepidation showed on her face. Rafe didn’t seem to notice.