Lonestar Sanctuary (17 page)

He recoiled, but she dug in her purse again and brought out her
checkbook. "Here, you want to see how incompetent I am? Make sure
I'm a loser?" Her voice rose, and she saw the girls look toward her, so
she gathered her self-control. "Here, take a look."

She knew what he would see. Chicken scratches scrawling their
way across the page, strikeouts, messy entries that made no sense.
Falling silent, sadness replaced the anger. "I'm not a criminal, Rick."

His hand closed around the checkbook. "I'm sorry, Allie. I believe
you. If someone's messing with your account, we need to find out who."

Her gaze came up at the softening of his voice. Maybe he recognized
the ring of truth. "I've never given anyone the number. Unless it's the
guy who killed Yo and my family. Maybe he's trying to make me look
guilty of something. That smuggling thing, maybe."

"He's doing a pretty good job of it." Rick laid the checkbook next
to her other things. "The FBI will track you down in short order."

"I didn't leave a trail," she said. "No credit cards, nothing."

"Did you know you were under suspicion when you left El Paso?"

"I had no idea." She began to return the items to her purse.

"What about this Jimmy Hernandez that you testified against?
How did that happen?"

Allie sighed. It was an old story, and she was sick of it. Everyone
seemed to think it had some bearing on her present circumstances,
and she knew it didn't. "He worked with me. He was in charge of getting stock handlers. I noticed he seemed to have a lot of men milling
around who couldn't speak English, but I didn't think much about it
at first. It's not unusual, you know? I was on my way to the grocery
store one night and noticed him pull off onto a deserted road in front
of me. He had a load of workers in his truck. It was long after hours,
so I decided to circle back and see what he was doing. I parked my
pickup along the road and walked back. The workers were all transferring to a van. The next day I started paying attention and noticed
none of the workers Jimmy used were the same day to day. I got suspicious and told the police. A couple of months later he was arrested,
and I was called to testify when the trial came up."

Rick's scowl turned thoughtful. "So he could be behind it if you
sent him to prison."

"They had a lot more on him than my testimony."

"But you turned him in."

She held out her hands, palms up. "They were already suspicious."

"He might not know that."

This was getting them nowhere. Allie shook her head. "Look, he
died in prison during a riot. It's not him."

"If you had nothing to do with any illegal alien traffic, then someone is out to get you."

Allic wanted to slap her forehead. "That's what I've been trying to
tell you.You're not listening."

"I'm listening now," he said. "Who hates you?"

Allic sighed. "Everyone asks that, and I just don't know." She could
see he didn't believe she didn't know who was after her. But she could
feel a noose tightening around her neck.

THE WIND HOWLED AND RAGED OUTSIDE THE WINDOW LIKE A PACK OF
wolves baying for entrance. Allie stirred the pot of chili and watched
the eddies of sand dance in the glow of sunset.

"Smells good." Charlie stood with his thumbs hooked in his pockets. The expression in his eyes said he was talking about her and not
the chili. He looked washed-out.

Allie hid her smile. Rick seemed to barely notice how she looked,
let alone how she smelled. "It'll be ready in a few minutes. You okay?
You look a little pale."

He rubbed his forehead. "Just a headache." He smiled and held out
a small, velvet box.

"What's this?"Allie took the box and opened it. A diamond eternity necklace lay nestled on the satin. The diamonds circling the pendant
made her blink. "Charlie, it's beautiful. Who's it for?"

"You." His smile was shy.

Allie caught her breath. "Oh no, Charlie, I can't accept something
so expensive." In her hand, the little box closed with a snap. She
pressed it back into his hand. "I'm sorry."

"It's true, isn't it?"

"What is?"

He stuffed the box into the pocket of his jeans. "Someone in town
said you and Rick got hitched."

"It's true."

He blinked rapidly, and his eyes looked moist. "You married Rick?
You just got here."

"He knew my first husband." She knew it sounded lame.

"That's no reason to get married." Charlie's lips trembled like he
wanted to cry. He pressed them together like he suddenly remembered he was a grown-up.

"Well, we did." She clamped her teeth against any explanation. It
wasn't like Charlie was a good friend or anything. He was just disappointed not to make his conquest. He was on his way to growing up,
and she'd just given him a valuable lesson in not counting chickens.

"Probably for Betsy," he mumbled, then turned and shuffled away.

If only she had someone she could really talk to here. Or anywhere, for that matter. There was no one left to her now, no one to
help her see the path through the trees. Had she even done the right
thing? But Jon had trusted Rick. Surely she could do the same.

Rick just seemed so sure of himself. She was anything but. Part of
her insecurity came from the trouble she had with light, and part of it
was the life she'd led that of a nomad. The rodeo was her family, but the personnel often changed with every event. She'd learned to hide
behind a smile and her work.

The thump of Rick's boots on the floor had become familiar, and
she glanced up as he came into the kitchen. The expression on his face
told her he had more questions.

"I've been thinking about who could be targeting you," he said,
pulling out a chair from the table and sitting down. "I wonder if it
could be someone who has something against Jon."

"Against Jon?" Allie shook her head. "Everyone liked him."

"Not everyone," Rick said.

Allie joined him at the table. "What do you mean? He was like a
pied piper. At the sound of his voice, people flocked to him. He had
that certain something that made people instantly warm to him."

"I know. But some people resented that. We had a colonel who
couldn't stand him. He thought Jon was a fake who used his charisma
to advance himself."

Allie stared at him. "Jon was genuine."

"I know. I'm just saying not everyone liked him."

"He's dead," she pointed out. "This stalker keeps saying he's going
to strip me of everything I love. So it's personal and targeted at me."

"Yeah, that's true. Shoot, I thought maybe I was on to something"
He stared at her. "Tell me about your life with Jon. About the rodeo.
Maybe we'll see something you've missed."

"It was a fairy tale," she said softly.

"How'd you meet him?"

"He was on leave, and his buddy talked him into going to the
rodeo. He hated it, you know. The dust, the smells. I was moving
horses from one corral to the other, and he stepped into some horse
dung. He was so mad. I laughed, and he looked up. Our eyes met and it was . . . magic. He asked me out, we saw each other every night for
a week, and he asked me to marry him. I said yes."

"He moved fast."

"You moved faster." They locked gazes, and Allie laughed. No
magic there, though Rick's steadiness drew her.

It was just as well. Loving Rick would be like trying to ride a horse
that had never been broken. The flight into the air might be high, but
the jarring when she came back down could crush her bones.

"We married right away, against the advice of his parents. They
never really accepted me. He found a house off base, and we settled
in. Betsy was born about ten months later. Life was perfect for three
years." The few years she'd spent with Jon had been the best of her
life -a home, a neighborhood, a church. Bliss.

"Then he was sent to Iraq."

"Yes." She looked down at her hands. "A few months later I got the
news. I had no choice but to go back to the rodeo. I had to support
Betsy, and it was the only way I knew how."

"Jon's insurance?"

"Only a little left over after the burial costs. He meant to get
more," she added when she saw his frown.

"Anyone at the base you might have had a run-in with?"

She thought back. In her memory, the days spent with Jon at
Fort Irwin, California were filled with sunshine and laughter. No
darkness marred the halcyon days. She shook her head. "There was
nothing."

"And the rodeo?"

She shrugged. "You get a lot of transients. People who think the
rodeo is glamorous until they are faced with the reality of dust, sweat,
and cow patties. Some hate being told what to do and walk off. I've had the usual rounds of misunderstandings, minor arguments. Nothing that
stands out."

"What about competitors? Any sore losers?"

A face leaped to mind. "I just thought of someone," she said slowly.
"There was a stock contractor we used for about five years. Ted Rediger.
I found him injecting some bulls with something to make them buck
harder. That's a big no-no. I turned him in, and he lost the contract
with the rodeo."

"Did he know you were the reason he lost the contract?"

"I don't know. Maybe." She hadn't even thought about the incident
until now. It had seemed so minor.

"He never confronted you?"

"No, I never saw him after that."

"I'll have Brendan check it out." Rick leaned back, and his unblinking eyes focused on her. "Are you afraid?"

Allie shuddered. "Wouldn't you be? Some faceless person wants
to hurt me, and I don't even know why. It would help if I knew the
reason.

"Did you date anyone before Jon? With looks like yours, you could
break someone's heart."

Was that a flicker of awareness in his eyes? Allie wanted to look
away and couldn't. His gaze bore into her, and she realized she liked
Rick. And was drawn to him as well. He was steady and strong, and
those broad shoulders could weather any storm. She felt so battered
by life. The thought of a port in her storm was attractive. But maybe
only because he was a link to Jon, and she was so lonely.

She'd have to be careful or she'd find herself in love with him, and
that would be disastrous. Their goal was to help Betsy. Nothing more.
She wanted to smile at her rationalizations.

The chili. Glad to tear her gaze away, she rose and went to stir the
pot. "Jon was the only man I ever loved."

"But not the only man who ever loved you?" he persisted.

"There was a rodeo clown who asked me out a few times, and I
went. He was ... strange." She heard his chair scrape, and she tensed
when he came up behind her. His proximity set her nerves tingling.

"Strange how?"

"Intense. A little too attentive. It was more than I was interested
in, and I kept turning down his invitations. He didn't give up for six
months or so."

"What happened to him?"

She turned and found Rick standing inside her personal space.
With the stove behind her, there was nowhere to back up. "I don't
know. He quit, and I never heard from him again."

"What was his name?" He took out his phone and starting inputting letters.

"Mark Haskell." She watched his focused, efficient movements.
"You must be used to interrogating people. I've wracked my brain trying to remember anyone who might be behind this and came up
blank. Not that I think either of these men is guilty, but at least we
have a place to start. Somewhere to look."

Even though she believed her memories would only lead to dead
ends, it felt good to be doing something. To hang a possible name on
the faceless enemy. In a few days they'd be back to square one with no
idea who her enemy could be, but right this minute, she felt hope
a foreign emotion that had vanished when the soldier showed up on
her doorstep to tell her the love of her life had given his.

"Why didn't you come?" she said abruptly. "When Jon died. Why
didn't you come to tell me instead of letting a stranger do it?"

He took a step back, and his gaze iced over. "I was a stranger too."

"Not really. You were Jon's friend, so I considered you one too. If
you'd come to tell me " She tore her gaze away and turned her back
to him. Stirring the pot, she waited to see if he'd lie to her, deny the
way he looked at her.

"I I couldn't," he said.

Her hand with the wooden spoon in it paused above the steaming
pot. "Were you injured?"

"No, I didn't have a scratch." His tone sharpened with an edge of
bitterness. "Jon died, and I didn't have a bruise."

She put the spoon down on the stove and turned to face him
again. "I'd like to know about that day. How Jon died. If he said anything."

"Now's not the time." He backed away. "I'll call the rest for dinner."

Watching him retreat he was running away for sure Allie
began to wonder if there was more to Jon's death than she'd realized.

She would swear she saw guilt on Rick's face.

THE WHISKEY GLOWED GOLDEN IN THE GLASS. RICK COULD SEE IT IN HIS
mind, taste the hot, smoky taste on his tongue. He hadn't wanted a
drink this bad in two years. Seeing Allie's trusting blue eyes on him,
knowing she thought he could fix everything, made him feel like a
scorpion hiding under a rock.

She had no idea he'd cost her the perfect life she'd loved.

The story would come out sooner or later. He hadn't lived thirtyfour years without seeing how wrongs never stayed hidden. What
kind of friend was he that he'd kill his best friend and then take his
wife? When he'd been doing it for Betsy and Jon's memory, Rick felt less confused. But standing in the kitchen, he realized he wanted Allie.
Wanted her for his own, not to make amends.

He couldn't betray Jon like that. It would be as bad as King David
killing Uriah so he could have Bathsheba. Somehow he had to find the
courage to keep the wall up between them, to keep her from creeping into his heart.