Our Red Hot Romance Is Leaving Me Blue (17 page)

Justin looked at him in amazement. To fake something as serious as cardiac arrest, to deliberately waste the time of emergency personnel who could be missing a legitimate cry for help was unthinkable in Justin’s world. “But J. P.—”

“Did I drag you away from something important? A hot date maybe?”

The question caught Justin off guard. “A hot date? Are you kidding?”

“Oh, you can’t fool me, buddy. I saw you this afternoon at Mama Hayes’. Lunching with a total babe. Yessiree. If I dragged you away from her, I will never forgive myself.”

“Well, no. I mean, yes, I was, but no, it wasn’t a date. We had a business arrangement tonight—” Justin stopped abruptly, not wanting to give John Patrick too much information just yet.

“Business? Don’t tell me you hired a pro. Hell, Justin, you
don’t have to pay for it. I can introduce you to some chicks who’ll give it away,”

“It’s not like that,” Justin said crossly. Now he was losing his patience again. “Tell you what. You seem fine. I think I’ll just run along.”

“No, not yet. Have a sandwich with me. See? Already got it made.”

Justin had had enough of his brother-in-law. He tore a sheet of paper towel from a holder that sat on the counter. “I’ll just take it with me. Tell Felicia to get some rest and I’ll see her later.” He wrapped the sandwich in the paper towel and left through the front door.

John Patrick walked outside behind Justin and watched as he climbed into his truck and drove away. Shit, he had hoped to keep him here a little longer. He shouldn’t have given up on his heart-attack farce so soon. Still, he had to grin. He had perhaps disrupted Justin’s evening. He had learned his meeting with the hot babe was business and not a date and he had escaped an evening with his in-laws. Not bad results for a plan thrown together hastily.

J
ustin’s call re-scheduling their appointment had left Sophia feeling a letdown. With no séance to conduct, she had no need to rest and meditate, so it was lucky she had bought a magazine to read. She understood Justin’s explanation, though, and hoped his brother-in-law was doing well.

All at once, a light supper of cheese and crackers and even the chocolate-covered cherries she had bought for dessert held much less appeal. Sitting in a club chair at the small round table in her hotel room, she sipped wine from one of the hotel’s tumblers. She picked another chocolate-covered cherry from its paper cup, popped it into her mouth and washed it down with a sip of wine.

The white roses, sitting in the ice bucket filled with water,
gave a false ambience of gaiety to the room. She had bought them for the séance because spirits were strongly drawn to white roses, along with soothing music and a candle’s flickering flame.

Leaning over, she reached for another slice of cheese and a cracker, and in doing so slid out of her chair in one smooth move, depositing her bottom on the floor. Oh, goodness, was she tipsy?

She hadn’t intended to be. She had wanted only to have a couple of glasses of wine with the cheese and crackers she had bought at Target. But being a nondrinker, she had underestimated her alcohol tolerance, and now, sitting on the floor, she announced to the room in a carefully measured voice, “I’m a towel blowing in the breeze.”

Moving back to the chair, she picked up the bottle and poured herself another inch of the delicious beverage, “Or is it
two
towels floating in the breeze? No, that doesn’t sound right either.” Why couldn’t she think of that simple saying? She decided to call Debbie Sue and ask her the correct expression.

She picked up the room phone and pressed for an outside line but instead of a dial tone, there was a hint of background noise.

“Hello?” she said. “Is someone there?”

Just as she started to hang up, a male voice said, “Sophia?”

“Justin?”

“You must have been calling out as I was calling in. Do I need to hang up and let you make your call?”

“No, please don’t hang up.” She hoped he couldn’t tell
from her speech that she had been drinking. She squared her shoulders and assumed an erect posture. “How is your brother-in-law?” she asked carefully.

“He’s fine. It was a false alarm.” A small laugh followed.

“Oh, thank goodness. I know you’re relieved. Why are you laughing?”

“You sound a little like you’re three sheets to the wind.”

“That’s it,” she said triumphantly. “Three sheets to the wind. I was just trying to think of that old saying.”

Justin laughed again and she smiled. His laughter was warm, sweet and sexy. She wished she could see him laughing.

“When did you start drinking?” he asked, amusement still sounding in his voice.

“Only about a year ago,” she answered, “but just on special occasions.”

He laughed louder this time. “No, I mean tonight. When did you start drinking tonight?”

His laughter sent waves of warmth through her and she sat on the edge of the bed, envisioning his clear blue eyes lighting up with merriment. She tittered. “Oh. Sorry. After you called I decided to buy a nice bottle of wine, which isn’t like me at all. For some reason wine sounded good to go with the cheese and crackers I bought for supper.”

“Cheese and crackers is your supper?”

“Well, not yet it isn’t.”

“So you haven’t eaten?”

“Just a few cradders and sheez.” Good lord, she had slurred
her words again. “Pardon me, Justin, I meant
crackers
and
cheese.
I’ll probably go out and get something in a while.”

“Don’t you dare,” he said, his tone now laced with concern. “You shouldn’t be driving. Look, I haven’t eaten either. How ’bout I come by and take you to dinner?”

“Oooh, that would be so nice. Could I have a steak? I would really like a big juicy steak.”

“You can have anything you want,” he said.

“Super. How much time do I have before you get here? I need to put on a new face.”

“About ten minutes,” he said, “but don’t do that. There’s nothing wrong with the face you’ve got.”

Justin disconnected. Shit, he had done it again—made a comment about the way she looked. He couldn’t seem to talk to her without doing that. She must think he was just one more of the typical horny bastards that were bound to hit on her all the time.

That thought didn’t set well with him. He didn’t want her to see him in that light. She was a nice person. Hell,
he
was a nice person, so why did he keep acting like an acne-faced teenager failing with lame attempts to win the heart of the popular cheerleader?

Thinking of Sophia made him think of the séance. The subject of re-scheduling would surely surface over dinner. The sooner the mysterious occurrences in his home were explained, the sooner Sophia would return to El Paso. That thought didn’t set well with him either. How quickly she would be gone from his life was a sobering reality.

He arrived at the hotel, pulled under the covered curbside parking, and called her again. “I’m here,” he said when she answered. “I’ll be waiting in the lobby. Don’t hurry, I’m a firefighter. We’re accustomed to sitting around waiting.”

He went into the lobby and took a seat on a sofa near the elevator. He had barely opened a magazine before she appeared. He didn’t know if the wine or the quick trip to the lobby had given her complexion a flush, but she was radiant. She had changed into jeans and a white cotton blouse, the same thing half the women in the county wore, but on her it looked far better.

Rising from the sofa, he awkwardly extended his right hand in greeting. His intention was to mention how quickly she had gotten from her room to the lobby, but what came out of his mouth was, “Wow, you look awesome.”

Dammit, he had done it again.

“Thank you,” she said, blushing a deep crimson and looking down.

He offered her the crook of his arm. “Come on. A couple of good steaks are waiting for us.”

She took his arm. “Thank goodness. I don’t think I need any more wine and cheese.”

The drive to Kincaid’s Steakhouse was relaxed and comfortable. Justin teased her about being slightly tipsy and she laughed right along. He liked her self-deprecating nature. He viewed one’s ability to laugh at oneself as a sign of good character.

“I probably shouldn’t have anything else to drink tonight,” she said. “I’d hate looking foolish in front of someone who doesn’t know me well enough to overlook it.”

“I’m driving, so I won’t be drinking. But let’s make a deal all the same. No matter what happens tonight, I won’t think badly of you if you won’t think badly of me.”

“You’ve got a deal,” she replied.

The supper, much as lunch had been, went by in a rush. Justin was barely conscious of the food servers who came and went. He was sure of only two things, really—the steaks were outstanding and so was the company.

Eventually, the talk of Sophia’s reason for being in town surfaced. With the topic open for discussion, Justin now felt comfortable enough to ask the questions that had been bothering him, and he was learning much from Sophia.

She told him how she’d had these unexplained feelings and visions thrust upon her since her early teens. She might have had “seeing powers” before that, but if so, she hadn’t recognized them for what they were. For some reason there had been a connection between puberty and her gift of clairvoyance. The passage into womanhood had awakened her abilities from their dormant state.

She also explained that just because the visions had come to her in other situations didn’t mean they would surface for him. Spirits, she told him, were like anyone or anything else—if they
wanted
to communicate, they would. If not, well, it just wouldn’t happen.

Justin studied her carefully as she talked. He had no doubt
she
believed she had powers, but he still didn’t know if
he
believed it. What wasn’t evident was whether her belief had only been pressed into her young mind by her grandmother. If the world of her caretaker and mentor reading people’s
pasts and presents had been a part of her daily life growing up, how could anyone expect her to not to believe that she too had some kind of supernatural power? He couldn’t dismiss the fact that even “non-gifted” people experienced an occasional foretelling of an event. He could easily see how she could construe that normal occurrence as “the gift.”

She had made vague references to the cost of caring for her sick grandmother. He knew schoolteachers’ pay in many instances was paltry. She had to be in financial straits. His heart went out to her. How could he not pay her even if she failed? After all, hadn’t she come here in good faith?

But he had already made the declaration, and made it in front of everybody, that no results meant no money. Period.

“Justin, may I ask you something? And please, if you don’t want to answer, don’t feel you have to.”

He hated questions that started this way. They usually resulted in him being cornered in some way. Despite feeling the tentacles of trepidation, he said, “Sure.”

“Today at lunch you handed me that business card from the representative of an oil company.”

“Yeah?” he said tentatively, wondering where this could possibly be going.

“I felt something dark and powerful when I held that card. I’ve thought about it several times since. Could someone from that company mean you harm?”

Justin felt his brow tug into a frown. “I don’t know why they would. I don’t even know anyone from that company.”

“All I know is, I had a very menacing vibe and it’s tied somehow to the business card.”

A shiver passed over Justin. He had been so absorbed by suspecting the worst, followed by trying to figure out some way to help her, he had failed to give credence to the possibility that she might be able to actually
do
what she claimed. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand it either, really.” She reached across the table and placed her hand over his. “I wish I could tell you more, but I don’t know more. Just be very careful in dealing with that company.”

“By harm, you don’t mean physically…”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I just know they don’t have your best interest at heart. Someone is sneaking around behind your back.”

Now the hair on the back of Justin’s neck was standing up. “And you can’t tell me who it is?”

“I’m sorry. I only saw a shadow, a dark male shadow. But whoever it is, he is very small. Not small like a child, but a very small adult. You know, short. Almost as short as I am.”

Justin sat back heavily in his chair. Yes, he knew one small adult male very well. He pushed the image that had come to him from his mind and let his common sense take over. He knew lots of short men. Maybe not as short as John Patrick, but all the same, they were short.

But what if John Patrick was who she was imagining? Indeed, Justin had never understood a part of John Patrick. Rachel had tried to forge a bond with her brother, but he had shown little interest in being even so much as friends. Since Rachel’s passing, John Patrick had been extremely nice, but Justin had thought it was out of guilt for holding his only
sister at arm’s length. Could the guy have a grudge against Justin for some reason?

“One other thing that I don’t understand has come to me,” Sophia continued.

She now had his full attention and he leaned toward her. “Yes?”

She let out a small, self-conscious laugh, “I don’t know why, but something my Gran Bella always said keeps playing in my head like a song.”

“What’s that?”

“Never trust a man who goes by two first names.”

S
ophia was herself again. Several glasses of iced tea, a huge meal, a scrumptious dessert and coffee had overcome her previous state of being tipsy. In the darkened cab of Justin’s pickup, she stole a glance at him as he drove.

The entire evening had been wonderful. She couldn’t have asked for a more congenial dinner companion than Justin, but he had been preoccupied. Her mentioning the business card and the short man had hit a nerve. The information that had come to her was so vague, perhaps she should have kept it to herself, but the need to warn him had been strong enough to compel her to say something.

“How do you like Odessa?” he asked, breaking into her deep thoughts.

“I like what I’ve seen, but I miss the mountains.”

“I bet you don’t miss the haze of pollution drifting over from the border.”

It was true. Mexico didn’t have the same air-quality standards as the U.S., and a gray haze made its way from Juarez into El Paso when the wind blew from the south. Sophia laughed. “It sounds like you’ve spent some time in El Paso.”

“Rachel and I went there a few times. She liked bargain shopping in those little shops in Juarez. I used to tease her and say if we lived closer, she’d have to file for dual citizenship.”

Much too soon, the Blue Mesa Inn came into sight. “Thank you, for rescuing me from more cheese and crackers and maybe more wine,” she said. “My head thanks you too, for the ache it won’t have tomorrow.”

Expecting him to let her out at the hotel’s door, she picked up her purse and reached inside for the diamond-shaped key fob. Instead of driving into the porte-cochere, he chose a parking spot near the entrance.

“It was my pleasure,” he said. “Let me walk you to your room.” He popped the latch on his door.

She dreaded the awkwardness that always seemed to come at the end of a date. “That isn’t necessary,” she said quickly and scooted out the passenger door. “I’ll be fine, but thanks for the offer.” She slid to the ground. Standing beside the open door, she looked back into the cab. “I’ll see you tomorrow night at seven.”

He gave her a sweet smile. “Okay, then. Seven it is.”

She walked into the hotel, knowing Justin hadn’t left and was sitting, as any gentleman would, watching and waiting
for her to be safely inside. She stopped at the front door, turned and gave him a little wave. He waved too, then backed out and drove away.

Her room was at the end of a long hallway on the second floor. When she first checked in, she had liked that because only one neighbor’s noise would disturb her, but now, her door seemed to be very far away and she felt isolated in the vacant hallway. Wanting to waste no time, she hurried to the door and slid the key into the lock.

One step into the room and she saw chaos. Her personal items were strewn everywhere. The mattresses had been removed from the two beds and stood on end against the wall. The ice bucket holding the white roses had been dumped on the floor. Her room had been ransacked!

Fear knifed through her. She gasped and dropped her purse. Its contents scattered over the floor. She glanced into the bathroom. The toiletries she had left on the vanity were strewn all over the counter. A tiny cry escaped her throat. Who would do this? What could someone have been looking for? The only items of value she owned were her grandmother’s pieces of jewelry. Thank God she hadn’t left them in the room.

As she recovered from the shock, new questions rushed at her. How had someone gotten into her room? And was the criminal who did this still present?

Those thoughts propelled her to move. She backed out of the room into the hallway, then turned and dashed toward the EXIT sign and the steel stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, she shoved the steel door open and spotted the receptionist
counter. She hustled up to it and was met by a young woman behind the desk who wore a name tag that said
MISTI
.

“Miss, miss,” Sophia said breathlessly. “Someone has broken into my room. They trashed everything. I think I’ve been robbed.”

The clerk’s eyes popped wide and her jaw dropped. “Oh, my God! Are you kidding me? Oh, my God!”

Misti rounded the corner of the tall desk and strode to the elevator. When the car didn’t arrive immediately, she quickstepped to the door marked
STAIRWAY
. She jerked the door open and mounted the steps two at a time. Before Sophia could catch up, Misti stopped on the landing, gasping for air. She jogged back down to where Sophia stood. “What do you think I should do?”

Incredulous, Sophia stared at the young woman. “For starters,” she said slowly, “do you have a security guard? Or maybe you should call the police.”

“Of course!” Misti bumped her forehead with the palm of hand.

“We’ve got a security guard. His name’s Brad. Let me see if I can locate him.”

She scurried back to the reception desk and Sophia followed. Misti yanked open a drawer. It was stuffed almost to the point of overflowing. She rooted around in it until she came up with a two-way radio. Fingers shaking, she pressed a button. “Brad?…Brad, can you hear me?…Over?” No response. She pressed the button again. “Brad, answer me, forgodsake. We got an emergency here. Brad? Are you around? Over?”

A unkempt man with a scruffy beard sauntered into the doorway behind the reception desk and leaned a shoulder against the jamb. He filled the doorway. Dressed in blue-and-white-striped overalls and a T-shirt, he looked nothing like a security guard, but he did have a black gunbelt strapped around his hips and some kind of weapon in an attached holster. “Yep, I’m here. What’s up?”

Misti pressed the “talk” button again and spoke frantically into the receiver. “There’s a lady here. She says somebody broke into her room.” Misti moved the device away from her mouth, seemed to remember something and returned it again. “Over?”

Was this a joke? Sophia couldn’t be certain, but she thought the man the clerk was talking to was none other than the security guard in the doorway. Standing in front of the clerk, Sophia had a full view of him.

“What’s the room number?” he asked, appearing to be totally unperturbed.

Sophia could stand this no longer. Speaking over the receptionist’s head, she said to the man in the doorway, “I’m in two-ten.”

Misti thrust the radio toward her. “Here. You have to say ‘over.’”

The man pushed his shoulder off the door frame and came forward, his hand extended. “Hello, miss. I’m Brad Pitt.”

Sophia looked from the security guard to Misti and back again. “You’re Brad Pitt?”

“Yes, ma’am. Have we met before?”

Sophia caught her dropped jaw and forced her mouth
closed. “No, it’s just that, well, your name…Do you get teased about it?”

Looking at her quizzically, the security guard scratched his head. “No, ma’am, I never have. They’s lots of Pitts in these parts. Maybe you’re thinkin’ of my cousin Harry. His life’s a livin’ hell, lemme tell you.”

“No, I don’t know him,” Sophia said quickly. “Uh, could we go to my room now? I’d like to see if anything is missing.”

“You didn’t look around?”

“Well, no, I was afraid someone might still be in the room. So I rushed downstairs as quickly as I could.”

“Ahhh…” he said, brow raised, head nodding. “That was real smart of you. Okay, let’s go see what’s goin’ on.”

Sophia trailed behind him to the elevator. They rode to the second floor and she followed him up the long hallway. Two doors from her room he threw his arm out and across her path and nearly clotheslined her. “Oh, sorry,” he said.

She grasped her neck and cleared her throat. “‘S’okay,” she croaked.

He pulled his gun and crouched, looking left and right.

Sophia made no further physical attempt to stop him, musing that a man who was named Brad Pitt, was seven feet tall and wore overalls that looked like mattress ticking didn’t need any advice from her, but she whispered, “Do you really think you need a gun? I’d hate for someone to get hurt.”

“I’m a professional, ma’am. Please let me work.” Still in a crouch, he crept toward her room. In less than a minute, he returned. “Ain’t nobody in there, ma’am, but boy-howdy,
they left a mess.” He fished a cell phone from his pocket and flipped open the cover.

“Who’re you calling?” Sophia asked, now suspicious of anything Misti or the security guard did.

“Callin’ the cops. Risk management, you know.”

From the appearance of the Blue Mesa Inn, Sophia was surprised that anyone associated with it was concerned with risk management. “Oh. Well, I wanted to go inside and see if any of my things have been stolen.”

Plastering the phone against his ear, the security guard nodded his head. “But don’t touch anything.” He spoke into the phone. “Art? This here’s Brad. Got a little robbery attempt down here at the Blue Mesa.”

Sophia’s shoulders sagged. Nothing like this had ever happened to her. She was torn between fear and anger. Suddenly the soothing voice of Gran Bella came to her.
Everything is fine, querida. You are in no danger. You must keep silent and watch. What goes around comes around.

Before Sophia could have more conversation with Brad, two uniformed cops came trotting up the hallway and entered the room, their hands on their pistol grips. Another man arrived in street clothes. He introduced himself as a detective and showed his badge. A man with a large black suitcase accompanied him. All disappeared into her room. She backed out of the way and paced the hallway.

Soon the detective came out, a pen and a small spiral notebook in his hand. “Anything missing?”

Sophia crossed her arms, cradling her elbows, trying to hold her composure. “I looked only briefly, but everything
appears to be there. I don’t have anything worth stealing but my jewelry and my purse. They were both with me.”

He jotted notes. “You can’t think of anybody who’d do this or what they might be looking for?

“No. I live in El Paso. I don’t know a living soul in Odessa.”

“Mind telling me what you’re doing here?”

Did he suspect
her
of something? Sophia bit down on her bottom lip, debating if she should tell the truth. Should she mention Debbie Sue and Edwina? Or Justin? This detective might be acquainted with all three of them. And if she revealed she had come here to communicate with spirits, he might lock her up. But if she didn’t, he might lock her up anyway. “I’m, uh, a teacher. I’m, uh, thinking of relocating,” she lied. “I just came up to look around the area.”

He gave her a raised-brow look.
Phooey!
He didn’t believe her.

“So if you don’t know anyone in town, nobody knows you were coming up here?”

“Uh, no one. I have no family.”

“Not married?”

“No.”

“No friends you might have mentioned your trip or your plans to?”

“No, no friends. I have no friends.” And sadly enough, that was almost true.

“Hmm,” the detective said. He jotted more notes. The man with the big black suitcase came out of the room. The detective turned to him. “All done? Get anything?”

“Got a few prints. Don’t know how useful they’ll be. This is a hotel room, you know.”

“You dusted for fingerprints?” Sophia asked, surprised. At first she had believed they weren’t taking her situation seriously. “Will you need mine?”

“Probably not a bad idea.” The detective handed Sophia a business card. “Just show up downtown and hand the clerk at the front desk my card. Tomorrow’s fine. You think of any new info you want to tell me, give me a call.”

“Yes, I will,” Sophia answered, eager to be rid of the detective. Once in the room, she might very well call up a vision and the vandal. “Can I go inside now?”

“We’re all finished.” The detective gave some kind of signal with his eyes to the security guard.

“I’ll go in there with you, miss,” Brad Pitt said.

They walked back into the room and Sophia perused the wreckage. Now everything was dusted with black fingerprint powder. When she had satisfied herself that nothing was missing, she told Brad Pitt, “I’m going to repack my things. I need another room. Preferably one close to the lobby. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

With the security guard gone, Sophia scraped her toiletries off the bathroom vanity into her makeup bag with a one-armed sweep. In a matter of minutes, she repacked her suitcase, glad she had brought very little with her.

She emptied the wine bottle down the bathroom sink, then returned to the room to put the remaining food in a sack. The open box of chocolate-covered cherries caught
her attention. A piece sat there in its little paper cup and a half-moon bite had been taken out of it. The gooey white fondant center had spread over the bottom of the paper cup and the cherry sat there only half covered by a chocolate shell. She
never
bit into a chocolate-covered cherry for only half a bite. Doing so was too messy. She preferred putting the whole candy into her mouth and chewing and savoring the delicious mix of chocolate and rich fondant and maraschino cherry.

Someone besides her had bitten into that candy. Her breath caught, her pulse quickened. “Oh, my gosh,” she whispered.

With trembling fingers, she gingerly picked up the tiny white cup and placed it in the center of her palm. She carefully closed her fingers around the candy and closed her eyes, willing an image to come to her. Soon a sensation began to course through her and a filmy vision emerged.

She was sitting at home in her living room, cozy and comfortable, with a bowl of popcorn, watching a movie. On the screen, a man was tossing her things around her hotel room, looking in earnest for something, but the vision didn’t reveal what. He was small, but he was not a juvenile. Nor was he a vagrant. He was well-dressed. Something was familiar about him, but she didn’t know what. If she knew a man that small, surely she would remember him.

The image that had been conjured up from the oil company business card reappeared. She had assumed that man meant Justin harm, but perhaps she herself was who he
wanted to harm. Perhaps the image wanted to harm them both. An unexpected shudder passed over her. With a gasp she opened her hand and the candy fell to the floor.