Stripped Bare Read Online Free PDF Page B

picture window along the front of the house remained bare, letting in maximum light. Even though she didn’t use them often, all the small appliances were red and retro or covered with vintage cozies.
    Dad stood at the stove in his canvas Dickies, stocking feet, and faded hoodie. He glanced up with tired eyes. “Hi, Katie. How about some eggs?”
    Even the word brought bile to my throat. “No, thanks.” I dropped onto a step stool next to the butcher block. “Did you just get in?” For almost forty years Dad had been a conductor on the BNSF. We grew up with his intermittent presence. Out on the road for twenty-four to forty-eight hours, home the same, sometimes more, sometimes less. Taking calls to go to work at all hours. Unpredictable and variable. Still, he was the most stable parent of the two.
    He cracked two eggs into the pan and poked at the sizzling bacon with a fork. “Worked all night from Lincoln.” Ropey, with thinning gray hair, Dad spoke low and slow, never raising his voice. “They” said he was one tough cowboy, riding barebacks on the rodeo circuit before he went into the army, but he only showed us kids a gentle side.
    â€œI heard about Eldon. And Ted.” Yeah, I’d figured. Even though he was on the rails half the time, Dad’s sources kept him informed through a system that would make the CIA envious.
    A desert of sand drifted in my eyes, and my shoulders knotted tighter than a pony’s backside in a dust storm. I slumped over my knees. Between Eldon’s death, Carly’s disappearance, Ted’s prognosis, and the stomach-churning thought of Milo’s suspicions, I didn’t know which problem to focus on first.
    Dad lifted a slice of bacon with a fork and laid it on a paper towel. He tilted the pan and slid his eggs onto a plate. “What do you suppose happened out there?”
    Not whatever fantasy Milo dreamed up, that’s for sure. I closed my eyes. I figured Eldon was the main target and Ted got in the way. Eldon owned one of the oldest and biggest spreads in the Nebraska Sandhills, probably close to one hundred thousand acres. Land didn’t necessarily translate into big cash flow, though. Even if it did, Eldon was so tight he’d squeeze an ant for the tallow.
    I looked up at Dad, hoping he’d cough up some gossip. “I thought everyone liked Eldon.”
    Dad carried his plate to the rustic picnic table. The table didn’t match Mom’s decor, but she bowed to practicality. With a bench along the wall and mismatched chairs on the outside edges, the picnic table accommodated a whole passel of Foxes. Dad built it after Michael and Douglas, the twins, numbers six and seven, were born. As Fox number five, I’d been squeezing onto that bench most of my life.
    Dad sounded more sad than tired. “I can’t think of anything worth shooting someone over.” He’d spent a year in Vietnam and had returned a pacifist.
    I stared at the black kitty-cat clock with its rhinestone-encrusted tail that ticked the seconds. I intended to ask Dad about Eldon’s enemies, but my mind shifted.
    Carly hadn’t been home last night. My concern registered about a five on the Carly scale. Unfortunately, Carly had the tendencies of a beagle: at any moment, she’d slip out the open door and make a run for it. Mostly, she made her way home on her own. Sometimes I had to grab the leash and go after her.
    Dad worked on his breakfast while bright sunshine streaked across the floor from the picture window.
    When I found Carly, what could I tell her? She’d been close to Eldon, and his death would flatten her. I had no clue who shot Eldon, and she’d want answers.
    The basement door creaked open and a phantom drifted into the kitchen. In her silky blue kimono and bare feet, Mom floated toward Dad and bent to kiss his rough cheek. “I thought I heard you.” She flicked her wild snaggle of wavy hair