A Stolen Chance (6 page)

“If you don’t come with us, Hans and I will sleep out here on the cold ground. I’m not leaving you out here alone.”

The stubborn man. Why did he care? He didn’t know her. She studied him closely. He wasn’t anything like Dewayne. This man’s good looks weren’t polished but rugged, his facial features chiseled, not pretty. His stance, though relaxed at the moment, implied power and agility. He’d not been winded from his run when he arrived, either. She didn’t doubt he could move with deadly speed if he chose to. How she knew he wasn’t a threat to her, she didn’t have a clue. There was an air about him that radiated integrity. Susan resisted the urge to snort. Like her instincts were trustworthy. She’d married Dewayne, and look how that turned out.

Though he wore a warm jacket, she didn’t want to think of him sitting out in the cold all night. She glanced down at his dog. His heavy coat would keep him warm. Her gaze returned to Mr. Rhodes. “All right. I’ll drive back with you to the motel.” She’d leave early in the morning, before she had to face him again.

“Good. I’m glad that’s settled.”

Chapter Five

It was five a.m., still dark out. Showered, shaved, and dressed for work, Carson looked out the window. No lights could be seen in Shannon’s van. He grinned. He’d expected her to skip out before he got up so she wouldn’t have to face him this morning. Something wasn’t right about her situation. His police officer instincts told him she’d lied to him about where she was going and why. He’d bet she was on the run, but from what? From the law? He hoped not. A husband, boyfriend? That thought didn’t sit well with him, either.

You’re disgusting, old man.
She’s not from around here and won’t stay.
Even if she did, she wouldn’t be interested in him. Oh, he knew women liked him well enough. Janet, his ex, had certainly pursued him with a vengeance. They’d been happy until she got tired of the odd hours and of him leaving her alone too much when a case needed his attention.

He’d had plenty of women friends in Albuquerque, but they’d been merely friends, someone to spend time with, have sex with. Shannon wasn’t the type. This woman signified home and family, and she was young—probably too young for him.

Thirty minutes later he stepped out the door of the café, Hans on his heels. He walked over to Shannon’s van and knocked on the sliding door. Rustling could be heard in the rear of the vehicle.

A sleepy voice asked, “Yes, who is it?”

“Carson. The coffee is ready. Breakfast in five minutes.”

“Oh, I’m fine, but thank you.”

“Aunt Leona is waiting to meet you.” Grinning, he added, “She’s already set a place for you at the table.” She’d been full of questions about their late-night guest and horrified to hear where he’d found Shannon.

He chuckled at the small tad of irritation in her voice. “Oh, all right. You go ahead.”

“No, I’ll wait.”

Five minutes later, she opened the door. The wind caught her hair, brushing it across her face. She’d left off her coat and hat. Her sky-blue turtleneck sweater hugged her curves and smoothed over shapely hips, her legs encased in worn denim jeans. His pulse raced in appreciation.
Down, Carson. She’s leaving after breakfast, and you’ll never see her again.
If he could get her to open up, to tell him what kind of trouble haunted her, he might be able to help her. If she’d let him.

****

Filled with trepidation, Susan stepped from the van. Carson Rhodes was too nice, and she feared he saw too much. Eating breakfast with him wasn’t a good idea, but he’d gone out of the way for her last night. Accepting his invitation was the polite thing to do. Then she’d head out. She hoped she didn’t regret accepting his hospitality.

She took the hand he offered. Her heart thrummed with pleasure at his friendly smile. Close-cropped dark hair emphasized brown eyes. Form-fitting jeans and a black T-shirt revealed muscled biceps and taut abs. How could the man be in such good shape and work in a café? Maybe he jogged or worked out every day.

They entered the restaurant through the back door. A woman’s laugh tinkled over the bass of a man’s mumble, both against the backdrop of clanging dishes and silverware. The aroma of fresh coffee and bacon filled the air. Her mouth watered in response.

“Here we are, guys.” At the sound of Carson’s voice, the sounds stopped. A short Native American woman, wrapped in a too-large white cook apron, looked up. A smile lit her face as she approached. It was his aunt, the woman who’d teased him and his friend the morning before.

“Aunt Leona, this is Shannon Langley.” Carson gestured toward the redheaded man at the table. “And that is Uncle Buck.” The older man grinned and waved.

Leona took her hand and led her to a table. “Hello, Shannon. We’re pleased to have you join us for breakfast.”

Shannon.
Would Susan ever get used to her new name? She’d tried to make it as close to her own as possible, but it still fell foreign on her ears.

Buck lurched up and pulled a chair back for her. “Have a seat, Miss Langley. Your pretty face will brighten up our breakfast considerably.”

Carson snorted. “Watch out for the old coot, Shannon. He’s a flirt. I don’t know why Aunt Leona puts up with him.”

“Because I’m a wonderful lover, young man, that’s why.”

“Buck!” Leona set a plate of biscuits on the table and thumped him on the head with her fingers. “Behave. She’s not used to your outrageous behavior.”

Shannon giggled at the horsing around between the three.

Like yesterday, the food was good, the company better. She needed time with other people; she’d been alone for too long. It must be nice to have a close-knit family to joke with, one that would hold up under considerable teasing. Susan enjoyed listening to them. She gathered from the conversation that Leona and Buck would be leaving soon. Carson had just returned, from where they didn’t say, and he’d be running the café and motel with the help of a few hired people. He needed to hire two more.

Customers began filing in, and Susan rose to leave. Leona pulled her aside, her brow furrowed. “I don’t know what’s going on in your life, child, but if you need a safe haven, you’ll find it here.” She patted Shannon’s hand. “Remember my words.”

Voice too choked at the kindness to speak, Susan nodded.

The older woman smiled and then turned toward the counter and started serving coffee.

Carson took Shannon’s arm and escorted her out the back door. She wondered why his touch evoked warm sensations in her belly when that of all other men, since her divorce from Dewayne, caused fear and revulsion.

He stopped at the driver’s side of her van and opened the door. “No more camping out in isolated spots, all right?”

“Okay.” She grasped for something to say, to prolong this moment. She liked this man, but she had to go. “Thank you for last night and the breakfast.”

“You’re welcome. Be careful.” He turned and walked back inside.

****

Susan stared into the flames of her campfire. She’d left Siesta almost a week ago. After backtracking to Santa Fe and Madrid, New Mexico, she’d turned west again and ended up at the campground in Chaco Canyon. She’d toured the ruins of several Anasazi pueblos. A book she’d purchased in the visitor’s center fed her imagination about the life of these pueblo people. Fascinating! She loved history, and this was an area she knew little about. Relaxing in her lounge chair and sipping coffee, she let her mind conjure up visions of ancient people going about their evening chores a thousand years ago. She could see women bending over their cooking pots while the men tilled the crops that had once grown plentifully due to irrigation and rainfall running off the canyon walls. Children’s laughter rang across the canyon floor as they ran and chased each other in games. Tonight the pueblos were mere shells of their former glory. Did the spirits of their people visit in darkness, mourning the loss of their past way of life?

At one time they’d been prosperous, trading turquoise for needed supplies. Several theories abounded as to the cause of their extinction. Some rumored they became cannibalistic. Susan preferred to believe they’d left the area and blended with the other pueblo Indian tribes in the area—the Hopi, Laguna, Acoma, Zuni, and others.

On occasion she’d felt the presence of their spirits. Goose bumps had peppered her arms and almost driven her inside her van. She’d persevered and allowed the haunting atmosphere to wash over her. Tonight the tall canyon walls surrounded her like a lover’s arms, peaceful and calm. She sighed. If only the spirits could make decisions for her.

She needed to make up her mind what to do—whether to settle or to keep running. Could she stay in a place like Siesta and remain undiscovered? Maybe, but probably not. Carson appeared to be an intuitive man, trustworthy, one who would protect anyone who needed him. Leona’s words rang in her ears. “If you need a safe haven...”

What if Dewayne found her and hurt Carson or his family? Was settling for awhile worth putting them in jeopardy? She didn’t know what to do.

She gazed into the fire, its movement hypnotic, while she swallowed her comforting brew. The soft sound of foot drums accompanied by a flute reached her ears. Now how did she know what foot drums sounded like? Oh yes, from the CD she’d purchased at the gift shop. She glanced toward her van. Had she left the disk player on? No. She’d turned it off just before stepping outside. Hair rose on the back of her neck. She looked around expecting to find reenactment dancers approaching. No one was in sight. She listened. Was it her imagination? No. The sound echoed clearly on the slight breeze.

As a child she’d seen spirits or ghosts that appeared at odd times and places. Though their presence had frightened her, they hadn’t been threatening. Eventually she’d accepted their company as normal. Then during her early teens, they’d left her alone.

As the beat grew in volume, the flames in the campfire separated to form dancing warriors. One warrior broke away from the group and stalked toward her, a lance held in his hand. The lone feather decorating his hair danced in the wind. His dark eyes held her transfixed as he grew closer, becoming more life-sized with each step. When he stood before her, she leaned back in her chair to distance herself, too afraid to try to stand and run.

He shook the lance. His voice, low and guttural, called, “Trust, daughter.”

Susan jumped as the warrior disappeared, his shape pulling apart into nothingness. A crow cawed on the canyon top above. Her eyes returned to the fire and then back to the canyon wall. The crow called again.

****

Damn the probation officer and damn Susan—the bitch! May she forever burn in hell.
She’d disfigured him, and now he was on the run.

His probation officer had taken one look at his burned face and reached for the phone. Dewayne knew the game was up. Before the man could pick up the receiver, Dewayne popped him in the face and took off at a run. He’d barely made it out of the building as officers dove to catch him. A block away, he lost them in the foot traffic on the street. He was wanted in connection with the explosion and fire. Susan had set him up, sure as shit.

Thank God he’d stashed a wad of money and could pay cash for the cheesy motel he checked into. The place didn’t have surveillance cameras. He’d be safer here than at the local four-star inn.

He yanked the ugly red floral bedspread off the bed and flung it into a corner. He’d seen that television show about dirty hotels. He sure as hell didn’t want to wallow in someone else’s semen. Fully dressed, he stretched out on the sheet covering the lumpy mattress. It sagged on the side next to the night table, threatening to dump him on the floor. The spotty carpet didn’t look inviting. No telling what had been spilled on it over the years. Someone had dropped a hot iron, leaving a permanent imprint. With the TV remote in his hand, he scooted to the center of the bed and stuffed both pillows behind his head.

The news blared from the set’s speakers. He froze.
Damn.
His mug, without the scars, of course, splashed all over the screen on Fox News
.
“Dewayne Holt, recently released from the Illinois State Prison, is wanted by authorities for questioning...explosion and fire...believed to be headed to Ohio...”

His chuckle turned into a rip-roaring laugh.
Fooled you. I’m in Kansas, dickheads.
Of course, they thought he’d head straight for his brother’s. What kind of fool did they take him for?

“Body found in the blaze is not that of Susan Lawton.” His laughter died, and he turned up the volume. “At this time the remains of a woman between thirty and thirty-five years old have not been identified, but they do not match Miss Lawton’s most recent medical records. Sources say extensive dental and plastic surgery was required after the last vicious attack by her ex-husband, Dewayne Holt. Miss Lawton is wanted for questioning...”

“Son of a bitch!” He hurled the remote at the far wall. It shattered, and parts fell to the floor and slid behind the television set. A loud pounding from the room next door bounced the picture on the wall. He flew off the bed to retaliate but stilled as the announcer said, “Fire investigators say the trigger that caused the blaze was set from within and was a deliberate act.”

“Well, no shit. Took you experts a week to figure that out?”

He paced the room, restraining the urge to hit the walls, to break something. It wouldn’t do to have someone knocking on the door, remembering his scarred face.