of the rustic wooden structure that reminded him more of a fishing lodge than a home for children.
Someone had probably designed it that way. Smart .
A big front porch overlooked the property, the two-story house more welcoming than heâd expected. A van was parked to the side with an emblem of a circle of children holding hands and the name painted on the side. Two other vehicles were parked in the graveled lot. Probably employees.
He climbed out and walked up the steps, then knocked. A pudgy middle-aged woman with a short brown bob answered the door. âYes?â
âMy name is Ray.â
âFaye Gideon,â the woman said with a warm smile. âWhat can I do for you?â
âMay I come in and talk to you?â
A slightly wary expression flickered in her eyes, and she wiped her hands on a kitchen towel. âItâs dinnertime for the kids. Whatâs this about?â
He didnât want to divulge that he was a private investigator yet. âI recently met a woman named Scarlet Lovett. She said she grew up here.â
Fayeâs eyes widened, but a smile flitted across her face. âYes, Scarlet. She did live here. Now sheâs a social worker and helps place kids in forever homes when she can.â She opened the door and stepped onto the porch. âWhat did you say your name was?â
âRay McCullen.â
She pressed her hands to her cheeks. âOh, my goodness, I thought you looked familiar. Youâre one of Joeâs boys, arenât you?â
Ray swallowed. âYes, maâam. You knew my father?â
âOf course!â Faye grinned. âHe volunteered here. Thatâs how he connected with Scarlet. But if youâve met her, you probably know all of this.â
So Scarletâs story was true.
âIâm so sorry about your daddy,â Faye said. âWe all loved him. He was so wonderful with the children. We used to be in this old house nearer to town, but it was small and run-down, and Joe helped us build this place. Now we have twelve rooms, a big kitchen and land for the children to run and play.â
Ray couldnât believe what she was saying. This wasnât the man he remembered from his high school years at home.
âWeâre all sad that he passed and will miss him,â Faye said. âDo you want to meet the children? Theyâll be thrilled to visit with one of Joeâs sons. He talked about the three of you all the time.â
Emotions welled in Rayâs throat. Why hadnât his father told him about this place? About what he was doing?
Because you left and never came back. You refused to talk to him.
And now it was too late.
* * *
S CARLET PARKED AT her rental house outside Pistol Whip, still shaken over the conversation with Ray McCullen. But there was nothing she could do tonight except give him time to process the bombshell sheâd dropped on him.
Heart heavy, she let herself inside the tiny house. Although it was small, she had filled it with homey furniture, handmade quilts and crafts from Vintage Treasures, and sheâd hung photographs of the farmland where the orphanage was housed on the walls.
She loved the beautiful landscapes and had been excited about Joeâs plans to add a stable and horses so the children could learn to ride. Heâd also intended to add farm animals and assign the children chores to teach them responsibility. Working together would make them feel like a real family. God knows, most of them were plagued with self-doubt, insecurities and emotional issues.
She lit a fire in her fireplace, brewed a cup of tea, then grabbed her files and spread them on the kitchen table. She was most worried about one of the preteen boys, Trenton Akers. He was angry and lashing out at everyone, which made it more difficult to find him a forever home.
But there was a four-year-old, Corey Case, who a couple from Cheyenne were interested in. She opened the file on the couple