The Texan by Joan Johnston Page B

an unpopulated place,” Owen said.
    Bay felt a chill of alarm run down her spine when she saw the three men hovering near the entrance to the small terminal building in Alpine. Despite the searing June heat, they were wearing dark suits, white shirts, and wide ties knotted tightly at their throats. Since the FBI special-agent-in-charge of investigating the theft of the VX mines was headquartered in Midland, only a four-hour drive away, Bay wondered if one of the men might be Paul Ridgeway. Owen must have been in contact with him to make all those arrangements.
    Her suspicions were confirmed when Owen smiled, held out his hand to the man in the middle, and said, “Hi, Paul.”
    “Owen. Good to see you.” Ridgeway was the shortest of the three men and wore wire-rimmed glasses that made him look businesslike rather than trendy. He was nearly bald, and what hair he had left had been cut severely short.
    There was no mistaking the fact that Paul Ridgeway was in charge. He reminded Bay of a bulldog, with his powerful neck, square flat face, and short legs. Seeing the way he stood braced on both feet, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he turned out to be as fiercely tenacious as one of those small, tough animals.
    The other two agents were long, lean, and sharp featured. Definitely Dobermans.
    “It was nice of you to meet us, Paul,” Owen said. “But we really don’t have time for more than hello and goodbye.”
    Bay felt Owen’s hand in the small of her back, urging her inside to pick up their camping gear, which a baggage worker was bringing inside. She barely managed not to jump at the frisson of feeling it caused. She didn’t need any further encouragement. The sooner they got shed of this threatening pack of lawmen, the happier she would be.
    “You’re going to be delayed long enough to give us a chance to talk with Miss Creed,” Ridgeway said as he joined Owen.
    The other two men flanked Bay, one walking beside her, the other slightly behind, like watchdogs. All that was missing were the bared teeth and the growl.
    Bay did her best to keep the panic she felt off her face. What if they kept her here? What if they sent Owen into the Big Bend alone?
    She glanced at Owen to see whether he was going to leave her at the mercy of this pack of wild dogs. When she saw the twitch of irritation in Owen’s jaw, she nearly sighed aloud with relief.
    “The airport has put a room at our disposal,” Ridgeway said. “This shouldn’t take long. Then you can both be on your way.”
    “What is it you think Dr. Creed knows?” Owen asked.
    “We’ll find that out when we speak to her,” Ridgeway replied.
    The four men were two steps beyond Bay when theyrealized she had stopped. When they turned to face her she asked, “Am I under arrest?”
    “Why, no, Dr. Creed,” Ridgeway said.
    “Then I feel neither the inclination nor the necessity to speak with you. Excuse me, please.” She saw her backpack sitting on a baggage cart and walked past them to retrieve it.
    When the four men caught up to her, Ridgeway’s jaw was jutting. “Surely you realize the seriousness of the accusations against your brother.”
    “Of course I do. There’s nothing I can tell you.”
    The agent lifted a skeptical brow. “Then what is it you’re doing here?”
    “Protecting my family’s interests.”
    “Would you mind explaining that?”
    “Not at all,” Bay said as she grabbed her backpack, slid her arms through the straps, and slung the forty pounds easily onto her back. “I’m going along to make sure nothing happens to my brother if—when—he’s found, so he’ll have a chance to explain himself to you.”
    “So you think he’s hiding in the Big Bend?”
    Bay realized the clever trap Ridgeway had set. She’d stupidly fallen right into it. “My brother isn’t
hiding
, Mr. Ridgeway. He’s
missing
, maybe even
lost
.” She shrugged as nonchalantly as she could with forty pounds on her back. “I don’t know how Luke’s