Against the Wind (23 page)

“Too late for that,” said a man's deep voice. The black hazard suit was gone. He was tall, lean and wiry, thin-faced, with hair as black as the night. Jackson might have gone for the weapon if the man hadn't swung it toward Sarah, pressed it up against the side of her head.

She made a little whimpering sound, but didn't move.

“Where's your car?” the man asked.

“Just down the road,” Jackson answered.

“Let's go.”

They walked along the dirt road, both of them moving in front of the man with the pistol, a big Glock 9 mm, it looked like.

He shoved Jackson toward the driver's side. “Get in and drive.” He tipped his head toward Sarah. “You get up front with him.”

She did as she was told while the man with the gun got into the backseat and aimed the weapon at the back of her head.

“Where are we going?” Jackson asked.

“Back to the yard. Mr. Spalino wants a word with you.”

So they'd been in touch with the boss. Apparently cell phones worked even out here. Jackson started the Chevy, turned it around in the road, and headed back to L.A. He drove carefully. With Sarah the target, he couldn't afford to take chances.

It seemed to take forever to reach the trucking company back in the San Fernando Valley. The lights were on in the office when they drove through the gate, which stood open as if in welcome.

“Pull up in front.”

Jackson did as directed, waited till the man climbed out of the car and yanked Sarah out, then climbed out himself. Another guy stood on the porch in front of the door, stocky, with a heavy thatch of iron-gray hair and a bulldog face.

Vincent Spalino.

“It's a little early for visitors—even around here.” Spalino tipped his head toward the man with the gun. “Bring 'em inside, Floyd.”

Jackson rested a hand on Sarah's shoulder, hoping to reassure her. If Spalino wanted them dead, there was no better time or place than out there at the mine.

They walked into Spalino's office, Spartan, with a metal desk and chairs, a brown vinyl sofa that looked as if it occasionally served as a bed, and a few family photos on the wall. The door closed behind them. The tall guy, Floyd, didn't come in.

Spalino walked behind his desk but remained standing. “Take a seat.”

Jackson sat down next to Sarah in cushioned metal chairs on the opposite side of the desk.

“All right,” Spalino said, “who the hell are you and what the hell do you want?”

Sarah cast Jackson a glance that told him she was the one who needed to speak. “I'm Sarah Hollister— Andrew's wife. This is a friend, Jackson Raines. We came to find out why you've been making threats against me and my daughter.”

“So, you're Hollister's widow.”

“That's right.”

Spalino sat down in his black leather chair. “Well, I've got news for you, lady. Your husband had more enemies than fingers and toes. If someone's been threatening you, it ain't me.”

“The way I hear it,” Jackson put in, “Andrew Hollister was blackmailing you. You figured Sarah knew you were dumping pharmaceuticals out at the mine and you wanted to make sure she kept her mouth shut.”

He grunted. “First off, me and Hollister were business partners. That's all. He didn't ask for anything more than we agreed on. Hexel paid me to dump the stuff,
and I paid Hollister for the use of his property. He was happy to get the money.”

Jackson mulled that over. Hollister had been blackmailing Kozak, but not Spalino. “If it isn't you, it must be the pharmaceutical company.”

Spalino shrugged his bulky shoulders. “Could be. The company's got real deep pockets. Hollister might have figured he could squeeze a little more out of 'em.”

“Would they come after Sarah?”

“They might. It's a small company with big plans. The guys who run it haven't been around that long. They still don't know the ropes.”

Meaning they were wild cards, just the sort to cause trouble.

“The dumping has to stop,” Sarah said.

Spalino leaned back in his chair. “We ain't paying your husband no more. I told those guys at Hexel that sooner or later it would have to end. With Hollister dead, the mine's in probate. Better to seal it up now, before somebody starts sniffing around.”

“What do you mean,
seal it up?
” Sarah asked.

He eyed her with speculation, as if weighing how much he could say. “You got the cash, right? The money your husband got paid? He was thinking of leavin' the country. I figured he was putting away a little nest egg. When he died, you got the cash so we're in this together, right?”

Sarah opened her mouth.

“She got the money,” Jackson answered for her. “We're all in this together.”

Spalino nodded. “The stuff's stored in fifty-gallon drums. The drums are stashed in one of the auxiliary mine shafts. A few sticks of dynamite to close the
entrance to the shaft and the barrels are safely disposed of, all nice and tidy.”

Jackson looked at Sarah. Now wasn't the time to argue. She made a faint nod of her head, clearly getting the message.

“What about Hexel Pharmaceuticals?” Jackson asked. “How do we get them to leave Sarah alone?”

“I'll talk to them, explain the deal.” He turned to Sarah. “If they're the ones who been hassling you, they won't give you any more trouble.”

Jackson caught Sarah's faint wash of relief.

“That…that sounds fair.”

“Hey, we all came out winners, didn't we? Hexel will have to figure something out, but you know, that's their problem.”

He rose from behind his chair. “Too bad about your husband. Him and me—we always got along real good.”

Sarah made no reply. It was difficult to manage a nod.

“Your car's out front,” Spalino said.

“Thanks.” Jackson rose and so did Sarah. He set his hand at her waist and guided her toward the door.

“One more thing.”

Both of them stopped and turned.

“You open your mouth to the wrong people—you won't be getting threats. You'll be dead.”

“I
want to go home.” Sarah turned as Jackson closed the door to their suite behind them. It was seven-thirty in the morning and they were just getting back to the hotel.

“All right. I'll call the airport, make arrangements to leave. We'll be back in Wyoming before dark.”

Sarah paced over to the window and looked down into the courtyard. She watched a young valet pull a car up in front of the lobby, then wait for the driver to climb inside.

She turned back to Jackson. “This all seems so surreal.”

“I know what you mean.”

“I don't feel right about leaving that stuff in the mine. We don't even know what it is.”

“Some kind of waste from whatever it is Hexel doesn't want anyone to know they're doing.”

“I feel like I should do something, but—” She shook her head. “But I've got Holly to think of.” She returned to staring out the window, watched the valet through a sudden film of tears. “How could I have married a man like that? How could I not have seen what he was like from the beginning?”

Jackson walked up behind her. Slipping his arms around her waist, he drew her back against his chest. “You were young. He was good at what he did and that included conning you.”

She turned around and leaned into him, slid her arms around his neck. “I wish it had been you.”

He moved a strand of dark hair off her cheek with his finger. “There's time, Sarah. You're young yet and so am I. Things can still work out.”

She looked up at him and the tears in her eyes rolled down her cheeks. She stepped out of his embrace, felt a chill at the loss of his warmth. “I won't marry again, Jackson. Not ever. You might as well know that. If you're looking for a wife, you need to look somewhere else.”

Jackson's gaze remained on her face. “I wasn't looking for a wife when you came along, Sarah. I'm not looking now. But unlike you, if the right person happens to come into my life—if I fall in love—I won't throw away the chance for happiness.”

Sarah felt a sharp pinch in her heart.
If I fall in love…

She was in love with Jackson. She didn't think he knew and she would never tell him. How could she? How could she drag a good man like Jackson into the kind of sordid life she had been living? The kind that seemed to follow her wherever she went?

“I need to pack,” she said, turning away from him and heading for her bedroom.

“I'll arrange our flight home.”

Sarah paused at the door and looked back at him, saw him reach for the phone. He was so handsome her heart squeezed. She had never met anyone like him. She never would again.

She was in love with him and she didn't deserve him.

She stepped into the bedroom, closed the door and leaned against it. If Spalino kept his bargain, she and Holly would be safe.

There was no reason to continue her impossible relationship with Jackson.

There was only one thing to do.

As soon as she got back to Wyoming, she was moving off Raintree Ranch.

 

The plane returned them safely home. Jackson drove his pickup, which he'd left at the Wind Canyon airport, back down the road to the ranch. Sarah sat in silence beside him.

“You're supposed to be feeling better,” he finally said. “I've got a hunch Vincent Spalino is a man of his word, and I'm pretty sure Hexel Pharmaceuticals is behind the threats against you. Spalino will talk to them and hopefully, your problems will disappear.”

She looked up at him with troubled blue eyes. “I hope you're right. I still don't like the idea of just looking the other way while Hexel dumps its garbage into the mine or somewhere else. They don't want to go to a legitimate toxic dump site because they don't want anyone to know
what they're doing. God only knows what that is—or what the consequences might be.”

Jackson slowed to let a deer cross the road. A small spotted fawn followed its mother. “I'll talk to Dev. Maybe we can come up with a way to handle the problem without involving you.”

She nodded, sighed and settled back in the seat. She fell silent again as he turned down the private road leading into the ranch. A car sat in front of the main house, he saw as they drove up, a plain brown Ford Taurus with bald tires that needed replacing.

Jimmy stood in front of the driver's-side door talking to the man, who had straight brown hair cut short, a bad complexion, and wore wrinkled khaki slacks. Sarah made a funny sound in her throat as Jackson pulled the pickup to a stop in front of the ranch house next to the car.

Jackson turned. “You know who that is?”

She glanced away. He could see she was upset.

“Who is he, Sarah?

She trembled. “He's…he's a policeman from Los Angeles…a detective named Mercer.”

Jackson opened the door of the pickup, rounded the vehicle and helped Sarah climb down. Mercer turned away from Jimmy and started walking toward them.

“Welcome back,” the man said to Jackson with a smile that looked anything but sincere. “I'm Detective Ed Mercer, homicide division, LAPD. I'd like a word with you, Mr. Raines.”

“Why did you come back here?” Sarah interjected. “Why can't you leave me alone?”

“I'm just on vacation,” Mercer said, “heading home
after two weeks off. I told you that when I came to see you before.”

Jackson looked at Sarah hard. She hadn't mentioned the detective's visit. He couldn't help wondering why.

“If you'll excuse us, Sarah,” Mercer said, “I'd like to talk to your friend alone.”

Jackson could see she wanted to join them, but Mercer wasn't giving her a choice.

“Holly's probably with Livvy,” Jackson said. “I'll send her home.”

Sarah just nodded, watching as he and Mercer walked inside the ranch house. Holly spotted him and came running in from the kitchen, bubbling with excitement.

“Jackson!” She ran to him and he lifted her into his arms.

“You keep growing,” he teased, “and pretty soon you'll be too heavy for me to lift.”

She giggled at that. “I'm glad you and Mama are home.”

He gave her a kiss on the cheek and set her back down on her feet. “Your mama's waiting for you in the cottage.”

Holly flashed a grin, then took off running, heading back into the kitchen, slamming out the screen door and racing for home.

Jackson turned to the detective. “Why don't we go into my study? We can speak privately there.” He headed that way and Mercer fell in behind him. Once the door was closed, he moved toward his desk instead of the sofa, forcing Mercer to take a seat in one of the brown leather chairs on the opposite side.

“So what can I do for you, Detective?”

Mercer surveyed the study, his gaze taking in the
leather-bound books on the shelves and the old potbellied stove. Though Jackson didn't even know the man, there was something about him that rubbed him the wrong way.

Mercer leaned back in his chair. “Like I said, I was just passing through. I thought I'd stop by, see if there was something you might be able to tell me about Andrew Hollister's murder.”

Jackson eyed him carefully. “How could I tell you anything? I wasn't there when it happened. I didn't even know the guy.”

“No, but you know the woman who shot him.”

Jackson's whole body tightened. He held on to his temper, but only by a thread. “As far as I know, Sarah Allen isn't even a suspect in her husband's murder.”

“Oh, she's a suspect, all right. She was there that night. It isn't clear exactly what time she left the house but she could have been there at the time the murder was committed. She had motive. It was common knowledge the woman hated her husband. Hollister had a girlfriend and Sarah found out. Oh, and there was the life insurance policy.”

“What are you talking about? Sarah got almost nothing from Hollister's estate.”

“True enough. Turned out the policy was expired. But then, Sarah didn't know it at the time. She didn't find that out until later.”

“That's all you have? She might have been there around the time he was killed and she didn't like him?”

“Motive and opportunity, my friend. And the spouse is always the number one suspect. In this case, it all adds up.”

“And how, exactly, did she kill him? Point her finger at him and pull the trigger? Sarah doesn't own a gun.”

“We haven't found the murder weapon yet, but sooner or later, something's going to turn up that proves she was the one who shot him.”

Jackson came out of his chair. “This conversation is over. Unless you're here with an arrest warrant, Detective, it's time for you to leave.”

Mercer stood up, too. “Like I said, I was on vacation. Two weeks this year. I just figured I'd drop by, see if you might have something you wanted to tell me.”

“Yeah, well, I don't. And since this is private property, I'd suggest you get moving. I'm sure they could use your services back in L.A.”

Mercer smiled the same unfriendly smile he'd flashed before. “I'll keep in touch. You never know…you might have a change of heart.”

Jackson made no comment, just stood fuming as Mercer walked out of the study.

Change of heart?
One thing he knew for sure. Where his heart was concerned, it was already too late for a change.

 

Sarah opened the door to let Holly and Rags out to play. She froze at the sight of Jackson standing on the porch, his fist raised to knock, as angry as she had ever seen him.

Two thoughts occurred: First, she wasn't actually afraid of him—not in a physical sense. She had finally realized Jackson would never hurt her. Second, he had come to talk about Andrew. He had spoken to Mercer. He knew the detective believed she was a murderer.

Holly and Rags rushed past him out the door, the
little black-and-white dog yipping as the pair ran off to play. Sarah just stood there.

“We need to talk,” Jackson said, his jaw hard as steel.

Sarah managed a nod. “Come in.” She stepped back out of the way, letting him walk past her into the living room. He didn't sit down and neither did she.

“He was here before, wasn't he?”

It wasn't exactly what she expected him to say. She had expected accusations. “He was here.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because I've brought you more than enough trouble already.”

“That isn't good enough. What are you leaving out?”

She swallowed past the lump that rose in her throat. “I couldn't bear to see the way you would look at me once you knew the police believed I was a murderer.”

Jackson released a breath. “You still haven't figured it out, have you? You still aren't sure you can trust me. I'm your friend, Sarah. Whatever you tell me, I'm not going to look at you any differently. All I've ever wanted to do is help you. I can't do that if you don't tell me what's going on.”

When she didn't move, Jackson reached out, drew her into his arms, and she didn't resist. It was hard to believe he was taking her side again and yet clearly he was.

“I'll talk to Dev,” he said. “Ask him to find out who this guy is and what's going on with the murder investigation.”

A trickle of fear slid through her and her shoulders stiffened. “Please, Jackson.” She eased out of his
embrace. “I'd rather you didn't. I don't want any more trouble. Lieutenant Delaney was the detective in charge of the investigation—he's Mercer's boss. The lieutenant thinks someone Andrew owed money to killed him. I don't think the police are trying that hard to find out. I keep hoping…praying that in time things will settle down and this will all go away.”

Jackson made no comment. Clearly he wanted to do more than ignore the matter. His jaw flexed, but he didn't argue. For now it seemed he was willing to concede to her wishes.

“Next time you tell me if someone shows up and gives you any trouble.”

Sarah opened her mouth, then closed it again and simply nodded. Jackson stalked across the living room toward the door. He was still angry but not because of Mercer's accusations. He was mad at her for not asking him for help.

She watched him walk out the door and close it solidly behind him, her heart squeezing hard in her chest. He was the best man she'd ever known and she was totally in love with him.

Still, she couldn't let things continue as they were, couldn't afford to get in any deeper.

How would she ever find the courage to leave?

 

It was dark outside, a warm summer wind blowing through the trees, making a soft whistling sound. As Jackson walked into his study, the phone started ringing. He headed to his desk and picked it up.

“Hey, brother.”

“Gabe! Been a while since I've heard from you. What's going on?”

“Just thought I'd call and see how things went in California. I spoke to Dev a couple of times, so I know a little of what's been happening to Sarah.”

Jackson raked a hand through his hair. “Things have been pretty much upside down, I can tell you.” He explained to Gabe about the stakeout and the waste being dumped in the mine, that it looked as if Hexel Pharmaceuticals had been behind the recent threats to Sarah, and that he hoped Vincent Spalino would help get things worked out.

“I was just getting ready to call Dev and fill him in,” Jackson said. “I meant to call earlier, but somehow time slipped away.”
Somehow. Like spending the afternoon talking to a homicide detective about Sarah's possible involvement in her husband's murder.

He didn't believe for a moment that Sarah had murdered the guy. It just wasn't something she would do. What he needed was information on Ed Mercer and he hoped Dev could help him get it.

“You're into some serious stuff, bro. If anyone can help, it's Dev. Call him tonight, Jackson. Don't screw around with this.”