“He must be somewhere else.” She didn’t want to believe that her boy would lie so blatantly—especially about this—and yet, she couldn’t overlook any possibility. Staring out the bug-spattered windshield, she realized that J.D. wasn’t listening to her arguments anyway. He was driving out of town in the direction of Cawthorne Acres, John’s ranch. The thought hit her like the proverbial ton of bricks. “You’re not really going to take me to the wedding reception, are you?”

He lifted a dark brow. “Seems as if you were invited.”

“I know, but—”

“We’ll just see if anyone’s seen Stephen.”

“No!” She was emphatic.

“Got any better ideas?”

She wanted to come up with something—anything other than her estranged father’s wedding—but she couldn’t. Her stomach twisted into tight little knots. “ All right, we’ll check,” she finally conceded because she couldn’t think of another place Stephen would have gone. “Discreetly,” she said, hating the thought. “We’ll inquire discreetly. I don’t want to cause a stir.” Then she looked down at her attire. Jeans and a short-sleeved blouse. Everyone else would be dressed to the nines for the wedding. Not that it mattered. She’d suffer any kind of humility; just as long as Stephen was okay.

“There won’t be a stir,” J.D. assured her as he slowed at the lane leading to John Cawthorne’s place. The gate was open and the curved sign that spanned the lane read Cawthorne Acres. A black ribbon of asphalt sliced between moon-washed fields of cut hay. In the pasture on one side of the road a few bales had yet to be hauled to the barns. They stood like unmoving, rectangular sentinels in the dry stubble. On the other side of the lane, long-legged foals romped and bucked around a small herd of serene older horses. Silvery moonlight played upon their white markings, making them appear ghostlike.

At the end of the lane, the ranch house and grounds were ablaze with lights.

Tiffany’s stomach tightened and her fingers curled into fists of anxiety as she saw dozens of cars parked in the lot between the house and barns. More vehicles had been directed into one of the fields while still others were parked along one side of the lane.

Dear God, what am I doing here? she thought as J.D. eased his Jeep behind a sports car nearly a hundred yards from the house. You’re only here to find your son. Nothing more. Remember that.