Justin is right, Cord. He won’t let Sharon Lynn down.”
Cord could see both men were sincere, but it wasn’t enough to reassure him. “I’d just feel better if we had an objective outsider doing the digging into this family’s background.”
“I’m telling you, it’s the wrong tactic,” Justin declared. “You haven’t met this woman. I have. If she realizes somebody’s out there poking around in her life, it’ll get her back up. She’ll fight just to prove a point. If we handle her right, I say she’ll just walk away from the baby without a backward glance.”
“I’m sorry,” Cord said. “I can’t take that chance. If a P.I. is a bad idea, then I’ll do some checking on my own.”
“You’ll be like a bull in a china shop,” Justin protested. “There’s no way she won’t know what you’re up to.”
“It’s me or a P.I.,” Cord insisted stubbornly.
Justin threw up his hands in defeat. “Do what you have to do, but I don’t want to know about it.” He caught Cord’s gaze and held it. “Hazel Murdock better not know about it, either.”
“She’ll never guess a thing,” Cord promised. He stood up and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Harlan Patrick asked.
“I thought I’d take a ride over to Garden City and buy myself a drink.”
Harlan Patrick’s expression brightened “Mind some company?”
Justin groaned. “Heaven protect me from amateurs,” he muttered.
“We’re not amateurs,” Harlan Patrick protested. “We’re just a couple of guys out on the town.”
“See that one of you stays sober to drive home,” Justin said.
They were almost out the door when he called out to them. “You might try the End of the Road Saloon. I understand it’s where Hazel Murdock likes to spend her evenings.”
Harlan Patrick went back and gave his cousin an exuberant pinch on the cheek. “You sweet thing,” he taunted. “I just knew there was a little bit of that old hell-raiser left in you.”
“Just forget where you got the information,” Justin pleaded.
Cord grinned at him. “Hell, we don’t even know your name.”
“I wish,” Justin grumbled. “Try to stay out of trouble, okay? It would be really embarrassing if I had to come over there and bail the two of you out of jail.”
“But just think of how long you could hold it over our heads,” Harlan Patrick responded with a grin.
Justin brightened. “Now that is something to look forward to.”
Chapter Eleven
The End of the Road Saloon was aptly named. It was at the end of a long, dusty road that led to nowhere Cord could see. He was surprised by the fact that Harlan Patrick seemed to know the way without bothering to check on the address or ask for directions.
“I take it you’ve been here before,” he said as they pulled into a parking space outside the huge barn of a building.
He shrugged indifferently. “Laurie Jensen used to sing here once in a while.”
Cord recognized the name and the woman’s connection to Harlan Patrick. “Laurie’s the one who just took off for Nashville, right?”
Harlan Patrick’s expression fell. “Yep. That’s the one.”
Cord glanced around at the old wooden building, which hadn’t seen a coat of paint in years, at the half-empty parking lot and neon beer sign with most of the letters burnt out. “I’m surprised she’d want to leave a golden opportunity like singing here,” he observed wryly.
Harlan Patrick scowled at him. “Okay, maybe it’s not the Grand Ole Opry, but she drew a big enough crowd here. The place was always hopping when she sang. People drove in from all over west Texas.”
“But she wants more?”
“More?” he repeated scathingly. “She wants it all. She wants a recording contract, concert tours, the whole nine yards.” He made no attempt to hide his bitterness. “She couldn’t wait to leave me in her dust. Well, good riddance.” He frowned. “Can we drop the subject?”
“Fine by me,” Cord agreed, aware that he didn’t know enough about the pair’s history to offer either advice or consolation. “Let’s go see what we can find out about this Murdock woman.”
“Let me ask around,” Harlan Patrick suggested when they were inside. “I’ve been here enough that some people know me. It won’t seem as if a stranger’s poking around.”
Cord could see the sense in that. He followed Harlan Patrick’s lead and took a seat at the bar.
The interior of the place was one step up from the exterior. The bar itself was an elaborately carved relic from another era and the mirrored wall behind it was lined with liquor bottles that