“My brother is best friends with Sheriff Hayes Carson,” Keely reminded her, “and Hayes knows Kilraven. He told him the particulars, and Kilraven had a talk with the driver’s insurance company.” She chuckled. “I understand some interesting what-ifs were mentioned. The upshot is that the driver’s insurance is going to pay to fix your car.”
“What?”
“Well, he was drunk, Cappie. In fact, he’s occupying a cell at the county detention center as we speak. You could sue his insurance company for enough to buy a new Jaguar like my brother’s got.”
She didn’t mention that Kell had owned a Jaguar, and not too long ago. Those days seemed very far away now. “Wow. I’ve never sued anybody, you know.”
Keely laughed. “Me, neither. But you could. Once the insurance people were reminded of that, they didn’t seem to think fixing an old car was an extravagant use of funds.”
“It’s really nice of them,” Cappie said, stunned. It was like a miracle. “I didn’t know what I was going to do. My brother is an invalid, and the only money we’ve got is his savings and what I bring home. That’s not a whole lot.”
“Before I married Boone, I had to count pennies,” the other girl said. “I know what it’s like to have very little. I think you do very well.”
“Thanks.” She sighed. “You know, Kell was in the military for years and years. He went into all sorts of dangerous situations, but he never got hurt. Then he left the army and went to work for this magazine, went to Africa to cover a story and got hit with shrapnel from an exploding shell. Go figure.”
Keely frowned. “Didn’t he have insurance? Most magazines have it for their employees, I’m sure.”
“Well, no, he didn’t. Odd, isn’t it?”
“They sent him to Africa to do a story,” Keely added. “What sort of story? A news story?”
Cappie blinked. “You know, I never asked him. I only knew he was leaving the country. Then I got a call from him, saying he was in the hospital with some injuries and he’d be home when he could get here. He wouldn’t even let me visit him. An ambulance brought him to our rented house in San Antonio.”
Keely didn’t say what she was thinking. But she almost had to bite her tongue.
Cappie stared at her. “That’s a very strange story, even if I’m the one telling it,” she said slowly.
“Maybe it’s the truth,” Keely said comfortingly. “After all, it’s very often stranger than fiction.”
“I guess so.” She let it drop. But she did intend to talk it over with Kell that night.
* * *
When she got home, there was a big SUV parked in the driveway. She frowned at it as she went up the steps and into the house. The door was unlocked.
She heard laughter coming from Kell’s room.
“I’m home!” she called.
“Come on in here,” Kell called back. “I’ve got company.”
She took off her coat and moved into the bedroom. Kell’s visitor was very tall and lean, with faint silvering at the temples of his black hair. He had green eyes and a somber face, and one of his hands seemed to be burned. He moved it unobtrusively into his pocket when he saw her eyes drawn to it.
“This is an old friend of mine,” Kell said. “My sister, Cappie. This is Cy Parks. He owns a ranch in Jacobsville.”
Cappie held out her hand, smiling, and shook the one offered. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same here. You’ll have to bring Kell over to the ranch to see us,” he added. “I have a terrific wife and two little boys. I’d love for you to meet them.”
“You, with a wife and kids,” Kell said, shaking his head. “I’d never have imagined it in my wildest dreams.”
“Oh, it comes to all of us, sooner or later,” Cy replied lazily. He pursed his lips. “So you work for Bentley Rydel, do you?”
She nodded.
“Does he really carry a pitchfork, or is that just malicious gossip?” Cy added, tongue in cheek.
She flushed. “Kell…!” she muttered at her brother.
