Body of Evidence (16 page)

“I get what you're asking, son,” the senator replied, his voice just below testy. “Like I said, boys, I travel all over our great state and I don't recall anyone in particular. The man you described could be anyone, anywhere in Texas. I don't think I can help you.”

Anderson took note of the growing impatience in the man's tone. His gut told him the good senator knew more but had no intention of confessing right here on capitol grounds. They'd have to do some more research.

“Thanks for your time, sir,” he said, getting up.

Levi gave Anderson a knowing look and shook the senator's hand. “We'll let you get to that vote.”

“All right, then. Always good to see a Ranger. I don't
cotton to drug trafficking but we all know it's hard to break up a cartel coming over the border, no matter how many men we put on the patrol. You gentlemen let me know if I can help in any other way.”

“I'll hold you to that, Senator,” Anderson said, tipping his hat to the tall man who watched them out the door.

“I think he's lying,” Levi said on a low voice when they exited the elevator.

“Careful,” Anderson replied. “We're in the whispering gallery, remember?” The rotunda was called that because a whisper on one side could be heard clear on the other side.

Levi rolled his eyes. “I still think—”

“Me, too. But he ain't talking today, that's for sure. All the more reason to keep an eye on the man.”

“Let me do some research,” Levi replied. “That way, you can go have that lunch date with your lady.”

“She's not exactly my lady,” Anderson retorted. “Yet.”

 

Jennifer glanced behind for the hundredth time. She'd enjoyed a cup of coffee, shopped for trinkets in the gift shop, and even bought her mother a pair of dangling Lone Star earrings.

And now, she was pretty sure she was being followed.

She'd first caught glances of a dark-haired man with a mustache behind her as she'd looked back after leaving the gift shop to get some fresh air. Afraid to attract attention inside the building, she'd found a side door
and escaped outside, hoping she was just imagining things.

But she'd just spotted that same man coming across the grounds, headed straight toward her.

Now, her hands shaking as she stopped in front of the Heroes of the Alamo monument, she stood underneath a small live oak tree and worked her fingers on her phone to call Anderson.

“Anderson, it's me,” she said when she heard his voice. “I'm outside. I think someone's following me.”

“Where are you?”

She could tell he was running by the sound of his voice and the echo of noise following him.

“I'm near a tree right by the Heroes of the Alamo monument. What should I do?”

“Get behind either the tree or the monument. Stay where you are and whatever you do, don't take off running. He could take a shot. Stay on the line, Jennifer, do you hear me?”

“I will.” She took a deep breath, hurried around the monument, then looked back. “He's a few feet away. Dark hair with a mustache. I think it's the man who attacked me.” She let out a gasp. “And he has a gun.”

A
nderson's pulse slapped at his temple with each pounding of his boots against granite as he raced down the steps and headed out onto the grounds. His gun drawn but down, he shouted “Texas Ranger. Get out of the way.”

People moved over, shocked and dazed, as he rushed through the tourists strolling down the long alleyway of monuments and trees known as the Great Walk in front of the capitol entrance. Squinting into the afternoon sun, Anderson frantically searched until he saw the Alamo monument. But where was Jennifer?

And where was the man after her?

Anderson slowed, stopped and focused on the area around the monument. He spotted a lone man wearing a wool sock cap slowly making his way toward the monument.

Was Jennifer behind the granite base?

Anderson watched the man, noting the deliberate cadence of the man's steps. The man was medium height and he had a dark mustache. Jennifer thought this was her attacker and Anderson believed her.

Berating himself for putting Jennifer in danger,
Anderson stayed a few steps behind the man, oblivious now to the crowd of people forming in a cluster up near the steps. He looked from the man to the monument. Jennifer couldn't be inside the open passageway underneath the arched columns. That would put her in danger. Maybe she'd gone behind a tree or one of the wide columns supporting the bronze statue of the Alamo soldier holding up a musket.

Breathing hard, Anderson centered his gaze on the man. He couldn't shoot him in the back, but he could bring him to a halt before he got to Jennifer.

Then the man made a quick move and disappeared behind the monument. Anderson took off, drawing his gun out from his body. When he heard a scream, Anderson knew the suspect had found Jennifer.

 

Jennifer gagged at the moist grimy hand wrapped over her mouth, her nostrils flaring with fear, the smell of dirty clothes and foul breath making her feel queasy.

The man said something in Spanish then leaned close. “Don't make a sound.”

Jennifer recognized that voice but she did as he said, praying Anderson would find her at the same time she hoped he'd stay out of the line of this man's gun sight. She bobbed her head, closing her eyes to the terror surrounding her.

She could see the blue sky, hear laughter somewhere out on the grounds, could smell the scents of fresh-cut grass and decaying leaves mixed with the stench of sweat and grime, and all the while her heart bumped and pushed for escape. This man wanted her dead
because she'd seen his face. Was he that desperate or that dangerous? Maybe both.

But she hadn't come this far to die right here on such a beautiful fall day. She had God on her side now. And she had Anderson. So she shifted her perspective from that of a victim to that of a survivor. Glancing around as the man dragged her up against one of the marble columns, Jennifer felt the warmth of the sun on her face.

And the touch of God's love.

 

“We have to get out of here,” the man said, his English broken and heavily accented. “
Si, querida?
You've seen me too many times now. Too many times.”

So this was the man who'd been at the alligator pond the day she'd found the cut fence and the man who attacked her. She couldn't go with him. She knew if she did so, she'd die. She'd never see her mother or Anderson again.

The man glanced around the big column then yanked her close, pushing her toward a copse of trees off the path.

Jennifer grunted, almost stumbling as he forced her into a twisted run, his gun burning into her sweater near her ribcage. Looking around for a weapon, she turned back toward the monument, praying someone would notice she was being taken by force.

That's when she saw a familiar face.

Anderson.

But his face had changed. He looked dangerous and determined and angry. She saw it all there in the briefest of glimpses, but it was enough for now.

Jennifer didn't dare let on that she'd seen him, but her heart shifted and picked up a new beat with each step into the trees.

And then she heard Anderson call out. “Texas Ranger. Drop the weapon and let the woman go.”

After that, her world tilted and shifted as the man holding her whirled around and shot at Anderson, using her as a shield while he did it. But Anderson was ready for the shot. He ducked into some shrubs, his big body rolling as he landed.

The man urged Jennifer on, cursing in Spanish, fear and frustration causing him to perspire.

Jennifer didn't dare try to get away now. He'd kill her and Anderson, too.

They hurried across the vast acreage. Where was Anderson? Had he been hit?

They'd reached a grouping of live oaks, the air going dark in the shelter of the great trees. Jennifer had to do something to save herself before this man took her off the grounds and into the downtown crowd.

So she stopped abruptly, shifting her frame against the surprised man, forcing him to grab her. And when he did, Jennifer managed to hold her hands together and elbow him with a thrust to his stomach. It wasn't much, but it caused him to struggle and loosen his grip on the gun.

 

Anderson watched from his spot around the corner. He'd managed to sneak through the trees and wait, hoping to meet the attacker and Jennifer head-on. Now, he held his breath as he stood hidden behind a massive
live oak trunk, and watched Jennifer struggling against her captor.

And that diversion gave Anderson just enough time to step out, take aim, and wait for the perfect moment.

It came as the man turned away from Jennifer, holding her with one hand as he blasted her in guttural Spanish.

“Let her go!” Anderson listened, held up his gun and put his sights on the man. He'd only have one shot. Better make it a good one. When the man grabbed Jennifer again, Anderson didn't hesitate.

The shot rang out, echoing through the trees.

And the man holding Jennifer went down into a heap on the leaf-covered grass.

 

Jennifer gulped in fresh air, the sound of the single shot ringing inside her head. She put her hands to her mouth then stared down at the open eyes of the man who'd just tried to kidnap her. Blood ran from his midsection, just below his heart. She gasped, fell down on the leaves and grass a few feet from the man, then closed her eyes.

But two big arms brought her up. “It's all right. It's over now. He won't hurt you. No one will ever hurt you again.”

She sank against Anderson's suede jacket, the feel of his badge crushing against her heart, the warmth of his arms protecting her giving her a new hope, a new beginning and a reason to believe.

 

Two hours later, after they'd given statements to the capitol security, the Austin police and everyone else
involved, Anderson thanked Levi for coming back to the scene and took Jennifer by the arm to walk her back to his truck.

He'd have more reports to file and more questions to answer, but for now, Jennifer was safe. And he wanted nothing more than to get her out of here and home.

“Do we know who that man was?” she asked once they were in the truck and on the road.

Anderson nodded. “We ran an electronic fingerprint scan. Name's Alfred Lando. Got a record for small-time drug trafficking and other petty crimes. He's not an illegal but he has ties back in Mexico.”

“He's the one, Anderson,” she said, her hands in her lap. “I can at least identify him now.” She looked beat and tired, her clothes rumpled and dirty. And they never did have their lunch.

“Yes. It's over now. Hey, you hungry?”

“No.” She searched his face. “Do you think that man was involved in vandalizing the rescue center?”

“I can't say for sure, but that's a good assumption.”

She let that soak in, her face going pale. “Is this really the end? Or will they keep coming after me?”

“I think this is it,” he replied. “Too much heat on them right now.” When his phone beeped, he pulled it out. “Let me get this, okay?”

She pulled her hands closer around her and fell silent.

“Michaels.”

Anderson listened while Senator Fred Huffington read him the riot act in a very colorful dressing down.

“What in the name of Texas were you thinking, Ranger, engaging in a shoot-out on capitol grounds?”

Anderson let out a frustrated sigh. “I was doing my job, sir. The suspect had a woman at gunpoint. I had to step in.”

“Listen, I read the report and got an update from my aide, but I don't like this one bit. Now whatever y'all are investigating, you'd better keep it away from my door, understand? The good people of Texas expect us to protect them, not shoot people right in front of tourists and citizens in our halls of government. You got me, son?”

Anderson got it loud and clear. He'd touched a nerve with the President Pro Tem. Now why did that not surprise him? “I did what I had to do, sir. And I was protecting one of your tax-paying citizens today.”

“Yeah, and I'm sure you'll be hailed a hero. But you could have handled this differently. Should have brought in backup and let our security officers help you.”

Anderson gritted his teeth. “I immediately alerted your security staff. They kept the crowd back and called in backup. Sorry, I have to go, sir. I appreciate the suggestions.” He disconnected and glanced over at Jennifer. She was his priority right now, not some possibly corrupt lawmaker who was afraid of the heat.

Jennifer shifted on the seat. “Am I still in danger?”

Anderson couldn't give her a definite on that even though he was pretty sure she was safe now. He'd told her the danger was over and almost lost her because of that. “I want to say yes, but I don't want anymore surprises like the one we had today.”

“I see,” she said, her tone full of defeat.

“Look, once we put out the word that Lando was killed in downtown Austin, on capitol grounds, I think
the heat will be too high for anyone to come after you. We have the unidentified body and we've killed one of their own trying to harm you because you could identify him. Your property is too hot for them to ever come near it again.”

She didn't look convinced.

Anderson's heart fell like a lead weight to his stomach. Could he lose Jennifer because of this never-ending case?

From the look on her face right now, yes, he certainly could.

T
wo days later, Anderson looked impatiently at his watch, then at the men filing around the conference room located in a big law office in San Antonio.

“Relax, buddy,” Daniel Riley said under his breath, giving Anderson a warning look, his dark eyes widening.

“I'd like to get this over with,” Anderson said as the Alamo Planning Committee gathered to discuss the threatening letter Anderson had in his hand. “I need to get back to the case at hand.”

“No, you want to get back to the subject at hand—one Jennifer Rodgers—from what Levi tells me.”

“Levi needs to mind his own business,” Anderson said, but it was without malice. His friends meant well, but he couldn't help but worry and fret about things best left unsaid.

Jennifer wasn't exactly taking his calls these days.

In fact, the woman had pretty much told him to come back and see her when he'd cracked this case. And not a minute sooner.

She wasn't afraid of the bad guys. She was afraid of loving him. Maybe because he'd brought danger to her
door and the one time he'd taken her out of her comfortable environment, he'd almost gotten her killed. Or maybe the fact that he'd bragged over and over about his dedication to being a Ranger. No time for anything else. Maybe she decided she couldn't deal with that.

So much for a fun first date.

And that failure on his part rankled Anderson enough to make him jittery and restless. But he
did
have a job to do, as always. Right now, that job involved smoothing the feathers of these determined men by assuring them the Rangers would be there to serve and protect so they could have an all-out celebration for the 175th anniversary of the Battle of the Alamo.

While Anderson could only sit here and stew about the battle inside his heart.

He watched as oil baron Rodney Tanner and cattleman Hank Zarvy walked in wearing expensive suits, top-of-the-line hats and handmade boots. Tanner nodded, then settled into a chair across the way, his hawk-like gaze sweeping the room. Hank Zarvy went around shaking hands and grinning. Neither of them looked too worried about the letter Zarvy had handed over to the Rangers.

A letter that stated, “Call off the celebration or pay the consequences. A lot of people could get hurt.”

Probably some extremist group wanting to protest or cause a ruckus. Whatever it was, Anderson wanted to get on with the reassuring and preparing so he could get back to figuring out Jennifer.

Then Sam Myers walked in the room, his dark gaze moving over the faces to settle on Anderson. When the man headed straight toward Anderson, he got up and
held out his hand. “Mr. Myers, I'm Anderson Michaels. We spoke on the phone.”

Sam Myers was gray-headed and tall, with a white mustache that matched his silver-shot hair. “Good to meet the man who saved my granddaughter,” he said, extending Anderson a hearty handshake. “I recognize you from the pictures on the news and in the paper.”

Several of the board members looked up at that declaration. Rodney Tanner leaned forward. “Sam, I didn't realize you had a granddaughter until I read in the paper about the attempt on her life at the capitol. Some vagrant wanting money—imagine that.”

Mr. Myers nodded. “I'm not proud of it, but I haven't kept in touch with my daughter and her only child, Jennifer. Long story and a matter of wounded pride on my part. But thanks to this young man here alerting me to what happened, I think things are about to change on that front. Ranger Michaels is a true Texas hero.”

Anderson saw Daniel's surprised grin and shot him a warning glare. While the kidnapping had been reported as a random mugging, he'd felt the need to give full disclosure when he called Sam Myers about this threat and this meeting. And besides, he wanted to bring Jennifer and her grandparents together for a lot of reasons, some selfish, some not so selfish.

He leaned close to Sam Myers. “Could we talk privately after the meeting, sir? About Jennifer?”

Sam nodded. “We have a lot to discuss, son.”

Anderson returned to his seat, but he didn't miss the questioning glance Hank Zarvy sent him. Anderson didn't consider himself a hero.

And apparently, neither did Jennifer Rodgers.

 

She missed her hero.

Jennifer wondered for the hundredth time why she'd pushed Anderson away when she was so in love with the man it hurt to breathe.

Maybe because she couldn't handle being in love with a man who courted danger. Just like her father but in a different way. Or at least that's what Suzanne kept telling her.

“Honey, the man saved your life. And from the way he looks at you and tries to take care of you, I'd say he's got it bad for you, too.”

Jennifer wasn't so sure she wanted to be taken care of if it meant having to watch Anderson go off and face that kind of intense danger every day. How could she live like that? Hadn't it been enough that her father had done the same thing, that each time he kissed her goodbye she couldn't be sure he'd come back?

And he hadn't come back from the Amazon.

What if she gave her heart to Anderson, kissed him goodbye and never saw him alive again? Being held at gunpoint the other day and watching Anderson shoot her captor right in front of her had only intensified her fears. Right along with her love for Anderson.

But the man had made it very clear he'd rather stick to the job than get involved. Too messy. Women didn't understand the nature of his work or the long hours.

Jennifer had certainly fallen into that category right from the get-go.

“I need some time,” she'd told Anderson.

“I need some time,” she repeated to her mother now as they finished up with the late feeding of the horses.

Jennifer looked around at the new lumber lined up behind the barn and the beginning of a new wall Anderson's father and his church buddies had already erected.

Everywhere she looked, she saw memories of Anderson.

How could she go on without him?

How could she live with him?

 

Anderson couldn't live like this.

After leaving San Antonio with a promise to continue looking into the threatening letter and keep watch over the committee's proceedings, he drove up the interstate toward Rodgers Exotic Animal Rescue, determined to talk to Jennifer. But he didn't do that. Yet. First, he had to let his mother and his family in on what was going on and enlist his mother's help.

He'd already had a long talk with Jennifer's formidable grandfather, but at least they'd reached an understanding.

And come up with this plan.

Now if he could just get Jennifer to cooperate.

He'd talk to Suzanne, too, since she seemed to be halfway in his corner. She also had to tread carefully in regards to her daughter, too. He'd just have to pray that he could make this work.

 

Jennifer got up at the usual time on Saturday morning, her list of chores front and center on her mind as she entered the kitchen.

Suzanne was waiting along with Jacob and Becky and two of Jennifer's most reliable volunteers.

“What's up?” she asked, afraid another animal had died. Or worse, another set of human bones had been found.

Suzanne smiled and handed her a cup of steaming coffee. “You have a card here, honey. Now read it and follow the instructions. We're taking over again today so you can have a Saturday off.”

“I don't want a Saturday off,” Jennifer said on a stubborn groan. “I need to work, Mom.”

“You think you need to work,” Becky chimed in, looking spunky and determined. “But what you need is to read this card and do exactly as it says. We have our orders.”

“And who gave you these orders?”

“Can't say,” Suzanne retorted. “Just do it, Jenny. We'll take care of things, we promise.”

With that, she motioned to the others and they were out the door before Jennifer could protest. Frustrated and still half asleep, Jennifer sank down at the table and watched the gold and cream sunrise coming over the hills just outside the back door. Then she tore open the envelope and pulled out the pretty floral card.

“We never had our lunch date. Get dressed in something pretty and bring a coat. I'm taking you on a picnic. I'll be there at eight sharp. Don't make me have to drag you out of that compound, Jennifer.”

The man had such as sweet way of asking—no, telling—her what to do.

Jennifer's first inclination was to throw the card in the trash and go muck stables.

But…she didn't really want to muck stables or feed Boudreaux and Bobby Wayne, or check on the turtles.

And it was all Anderson Michaels' fault.

“Okay, Ranger-man,” she said, staring at the scrawled black ink on the card. “Just one date. Just to remember you with a good ending. And then that's it.”

 

“Where are we going?” she asked Anderson an hour later. She was once again in his big truck, snuggled in a long brown sweater-coat and her favorite jeans and yet another pair of boots—these sturdy and flat and good for long walks.

“I thought it was about time you see where I grew up,” he said, his grin telling her that he seemed glad she'd agreed to this.

“You're taking me to…the ranch? Your family's ranch?”

“Yep.”

“Will we be alone there?”

“I sure hope so. At least, we will after I give all of 'em a chance to fuss over you a little bit.”

“I don't need fussing over, Ranger-man.”

“Oh, yes, ma'am, you most certainly do.”

“I'm not the fuss-over type.”

“Get used to it,” he said, taking her hand.

Then he pulled up to a sprawling yellow-brick ranch house with two live oaks centered on each side of the wide front porch. “This is it—the Michaels residence. I have a little cabin on the creek. I'll show you that later.”

Jennifer braced herself for what was about to come. She was finally getting a chance to see how a real family lived. But she wasn't sure she could handle that right
now without blurting out to Anderson that she never wanted to leave this place. Or him.

An hour later, Jennifer had enjoyed homemade cinnamon rolls and laughter and small talk and a tour of the big house and a walk through Ramona's fall garden.

Now, she was holding Anderson's hand and strolling toward the tiny cabin set back near a lone cottonwood tree beside a gurgling creek bed. The woods around them were ablaze in an autumn fire of burgundy, orange and gold.

Anderson set down the big basket of food his mother had packed and turned toward Jennifer.

“Finally, I have you alone.”

He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, holding her. The air was chilly, but the sun and his nearness warmed Jennifer. She wanted to stay in his arms for a long, long time.

He lifted away, staring down at her with those bright golden eyes. “I'm not good with words, but…I need to tell you a few things.”

“I'm listening,” she said, her heart unfurling like a falling leaf.

“First, I love you. I think I've loved you since I watched you feeding those two ornery alligators.”

She couldn't speak, couldn't take her eyes off his face.

“And second, because I love you, I want the best for you. And that means…I've done something that's probably going to make you mad. Real mad.”

“What?” she asked, her hope floating away with the creek's gentle current.

“This,” he said, turning her around as an older couple
came walking toward them. “I invited your grand parents to share this picnic with us.”

 

Anderson watched from his perch against the cottonwood tree while Jennifer sat at the picnic table talking quietly with Sam and Martha Myers. Had he done the right thing?

He hoped so. Suzanne had approved this daring at tempt to reunite Jennifer with the Myers and she'd had her own long talk with her parents earlier today.

Praying this would work, Anderson enjoyed watching her face each time Sam Myers asked her yet another question about the rescue farm. Was she happy? Or was she just being polite to save face? Would she ream him out once her grandparents were gone?

When Sam Myers stood up, Anderson came off the tree and held his breath. Then he watched in amazement as the old man opened his arms to his granddaughter.

Jennifer stood, too, and hesitated for just a second.

Then she rushed into her grandfather's embrace, tears streaming down her face. Soon, Mrs. Myers was hugging her close, too.

Anderson stayed in his spot until they'd said their goodbyes. But Sam Myers turned and tipped his hat to Anderson before he took his wife's arm and escorted her back toward the ranch house.

 

“Can you believe it?” Jennifer said later, half of her veggie sandwich still on the paper plate in front of her. “They want to set up a foundation, Anderson, for me. For the rescue farm. A huge, huge foundation with lots
and lots of real money in it. Was I wrong to accept that?”

“No, you were right, darlin'. They want to make amends and, granted, it took seeing your face on the news and hearing what happened to you to bring them around, but Jennifer, this means you'll be safe there again. You can get a proper security system, put up new pens, hire full-time helpers, and rebuild whatever you want. I'd say this is a win-win situation.”

“I just can't get over the generosity—first your parents and your church. Now my grandparents. And they want to come by tomorrow and have a tour. Grandma's bringing lunch for Mom and me.” She smiled, her eyes watering again.

“I was afraid you'd be mad,” he admitted, glad to see her pretty smile.

“I was at first, but…how can I stay mad at a man who's gone out of his way to save me? And when I say save me, I don't mean just from the drug cartel or the grumpy neighbor. You saved me from myself. You showed me the way back to my faith and my family. How can I be mad about that?”