Perfect Family (15 page)

She could see the second story of the main lodge. She suddenly had the feeling of being watched. Or was it because someone had been in the room?

Why?

Jessie closed the curtains and painfully limped to the bed, punching on the television remote. She wanted noise. She stretched out on the bed, grateful that it was more comfortable then her own. Cullen had certainly spared no expense.

Cullen
. He would most certainly have keys to each room. She tried to remember everything Alex had told her about him. He'd served in Korea with honor but, unlike his uncle, he'd never lost his sense of direction. He'd been successful in banking, then had put together the consortium to build the Quest. He most certainly wouldn't be interested in her possessions.

She ignored the television and her mind relived the day. Alex had left twice during the day. Marc had also been gone most of the day. So had, for that matter, Ross. How many others had an opportunity? But she kept returning to the original puzzle. Why would anyone want to go through her possessions?

She changed position and pain jabbed through her arm. Jessie repressed a few choice expressions, then rose painfully and went to the bathroom. Alex had stopped at a convenience store and picked up some double-strength aspirin before returning Jessie to the Quest. She gulped down several.

Her mind was still spinning. She wanted it to stop. There was no way she could solve any of the puzzles tonight.

Tomorrow was Sunday. The last day of the reunion. She had planned to leave on Monday, but now she might stay another day. Visit the library. And the newspaper if there was one. Even the courthouse. Perhaps she could learn more about what happened fifty years ago. Could that have anything to do with her? With the questions—and fear—whirling in her head? In the meantime, she would ask questions.

With that promise to herself, she started to drift off. She turned down the volume of the television, but left it on, comforted by the humming sound. She turned off the light.

She only wished she could turn off the questions. And warm the chill that replaced the euphoria she'd felt earlier in the day.

Ross ran his hands over the sorrel. He was usually reliable, well-mannered. And Dan'l had told him that Jessica had a good seat, that she seemed competent.

He blamed himself for not going with them. He'd thought she would be safe enough with Alex, and then the bastard had left them. After that, Ross wasn't sure what happened.

April had claimed that she thought Jessica was right behind her when she turned into a path that wound up into the rocky cliffs. When she had stopped to warn her of the steep path, Jessica was gone.

He was also angry with Alex. The damned lawyer had said he would accompany the women. Ross had expected him to do so.

He was equally angry with himself. He'd had errands that afternoon. Errands that couldn't be postponed. But he
should
have postponed them. He didn't like the fear that had knotted his stomach when April had come galloping in. It had already been dark, and he knew how easy it was to get lost in the hills and mountains that surrounded the ranch.

He'd found himself liking Jessica and her wry sense of humor. He hadn't liked thinking of her out there. Alone. Too much could happen.

It had taken several hours to locate her. He'd been amazed, though, to find her traveling in the right direction toward the ranch. She'd been thrown, which had to have hurt like hell, and yet she'd tried to get back on her own. It'd been foolish but game.

But one look at her, and he'd known she was operating at the limit of her endurance. He'd been surprised at the tenderness he felt when she'd rested trustingly against him.

Damn, he didn't want to feel tenderness. He didn't want to get involved with a woman. Particularly this woman, who might hold his future in her hands. He couldn't afford losing his objectivity.

He'd had many brief affairs in which both he and the woman understood it would be exactly that and no more. His Apache blood had proved an aphrodisiac to some and a deterrent to others. He hadn't cared much either way. He only knew he wouldn't brand a woman with that mark. Nor saddle one with a man with a police record.

He finished his inspection. He'd realized immediately that the limp wasn't serious. But he'd looked for something, an indication that the saddle or blanket had been tampered with in some way. From everything he knew of Jessica, she was a good rider. Of course, it had been a long time. Still …

He didn't trust Marc, not when the congressman really wanted something. Nor Alex. Over the years, Ross had had many dealings with him, and he knew that Alex took chances. Oddly enough, it had been the family outlaw—himself—who'd insisted they not stretch the truth on loan statements or lease applications. But then, he admitted, he'd never trusted anyone who had anything to do with the law. Justice had always been for families like the Clementses. Not for families with names like Sanchez, his mother's and grandmother's name.

He ran his hand down Carefree's neck. “Good boy,” he murmured softly. He'd found nothing suspicious. For a moment, he wondered why he'd even looked.

It was a case of mixed signals. Nothing more. And Jessica had learned a lesson last night. If she was plucky enough to ride again, he would teach her something about cutting horses. If she stayed that long. Alex had said she planned to leave Monday.

But she would be back when she learned the details of the trust.

For how long?

To stay. Or to sell? So much depended on one woman's decision.

After this night, she would probably be only too eager to sell a tradition.

Hell, a tradition, and a losing proposition.

But dammit, all he needed was a few years to prove that the Sunset could make a good profit, if not a great one. That was all in the hell he needed.

He closed his eyes, wondering how badly he wanted those years. And what he would do—when it came down to it—to get them. How much of his soul would he trade for them?

Jessie took another hot bath in the morning and plotted her next moves. Then she changed her airline ticket, delaying her return to Atlanta for a few days. Because Alex, or the family, had paid top price for them, there was no problem.

Then she called Sol. He was obviously pleased—and relieved—to hear her voice. “Ben and I have missed you.”

“I miss you, too. How's Ben coping?”

“He's pining. He sits next to me, but he's always facing the door. His tail starts beating when the door opens.” Then he added quickly, “But he's eating well.”

“Ben always eats well,” she said wryly. She hesitated, then added, “Would it be too much trouble if I stayed a few days longer?”

“No, of course not. You're more than due for a vacation, and Ben is good company.” Then curiosity crept into his voice. “Is it true? Was your father Harding Clements?”

She had explained everything to him before she'd left Atlanta, and he'd been more than a little intrigued. He loved historical mysteries and this seemed to qualify as one.

“I think so,” she said. “I gave them blood for the DNA test, but they have a picture of him, and I'm pretty sure it's my father. I also look very much like Sarah did when she was my age. She was Harding's sister.”

“Ahhhhhhh.” She heard the long sigh across the miles. Then he asked, “Did you find out why he left?”

“That still seems the big mystery,” she replied. “That's why I want to stay. I want to do some research. Library. Court records.”

“Then stay as long as you feel it's necessary, Jessie. I know how important this is to you.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I'll be back in a few days.”

“And Jessie?” She heard a hesitancy in his voice. “I wasn't sure I should tell you, but in light of the burglary in your house, I think you should know. The shop was burglarized last night. I haven't done a complete inventory yet, but they ransacked our desks and got into the safe. Thank God, there wasn't much there. Just Saturday receipts. A few hundred dollars.”

She stilled. Another coincidence? They were beginning to pile up. “Maybe I
should
come home.”

“No, no, of course not. There's been other burglaries in this center. I probably shouldn't even have said anything, but …”

She smiled to herself despite her apprehension. Sol was open and honest, and couldn't keep any secret unless pledged to secrecy. Then he would go to his grave with it. “You'll let me know if you find anything else missing?”

“Of course. You have a good time. Solve those mysteries to your satisfaction.”

“I will. Say hello to Ben.”

“Of course. I'll tell him you said to give him an extra dog biscuit.”

“Are you spoiling him?”

“Rotten,” he answered.

“And you told me you didn't like dogs.”

“Ben is different. And I didn't say I didn't like them. I just … never had time for them.”

“Wait until Christmas,” she threatened.

He chuckled. “We'll talk about that when you get back.”

She said good-bye, and thanked him again, and hung up the phone.

Another burglary. And someone had searched her room. What could they be looking for? Or was it still another coincidence? She swallowed hard, wondering whether Sol might be in danger. And yet none of the invasions had been violent. Even the burglar at her home had obviously just wanted to get away. Still, Sol was like a father to her. He had given her a job her sophomore year, realizing from her constant visits that she loved books as much as he did. She had worked for him for three years until she received her degree in literature and discovered that it equipped her for few jobs.

Sol had an independent income from his family. He owned the store just because he loved books, but now he was in his sixties, and he had an itch to write a book, to add to the history he loved so well. When he'd offered her a partnership with a very low down payment, she'd seized the opportunity. She hadn't realized then that she was hiding from life, from risks, from painful commitments. A bookstore was the perfect place to do that. She lived vicariously, but safely, through books.

She hadn't known it, in fact, until she mounted Carefree yesterday, until she felt the old power of a muscled body beneath her, the thrill of the rushing wind, the warm caress of a hot sun. She'd forgotten how it felt to be so alive, to experience so many sensations and emotions, and plain unadulterated joy.

Jessie knew one thing now. When she did return to Atlanta, she would start riding again. Somewhere. Somehow.

Ignoring all the stiffness and painful bruises, she dressed, made a cup of coffee from the coffeemaker in her room and took it outside. The morning sun was bright, intense. It bounced off Coffee Pot Rock, the massive red rock formation shaped like its name. The hues were spectacular, and the raw rugged beauty filled her with awe. And something else.

A sense of belonging? A kind of rightness?

Could a place really be part of one's soul, or was everyone affected by the sheer magnificence of the area?

And loneliness. She had discovered that last night.

She shivered despite the heat. It was late June, and the day already hot. Not like Phoenix, but warm enough. After finishing her coffee, she thought about breakfast. A number of the family staying at the resort had planned to eat breakfast together. But she wasn't up to that yet this morning. April was staying here, and her brother, as were assorted other first and second cousins.

Jessie didn't relish seeing April this morning, not before breakfast. She didn't want either apologies or, she feared, a certain amount of smugness that Jessie had not only been thrown but had also gotten herself lost. She felt her face flush as she thought about last night.

She hadn't had any time to look around Sedona on her own. She would check out the local bookstores to see what they had in literature about the area, then find the library.

It would be closed today, but she planned to be there bright and early tomorrow morning. Her conversation with Sol had spurred her determination to find out more about the family. Independently.

She went back inside the room. It had lost some of its charm last night. She considered moving to another hotel, but the horse was already out of the barn. She doubted whether she would have another visitor.

Sighing, she turned off the coffeemaker and located the keys to the rental car.

Marc glared at his daughter. “What in the hell were you up to?”

April flinched, but he didn't relent. Dammit, she could have ruined everything.

“I didn't think you wanted her to get too fond of the Sunset.”

“So you drove her into the arms of Ross. Her protector. Is that what you wanted?”

“How would I know that he would be the one to find her. It could have been my brother. Or you. Then you two could have been heroes.”

“It was reckless and foolish. You might well have made her suspicious.”

April shook her head. “She blamed herself. And well she should. I didn't plan it. I just saw the opportunity when she didn't keep up with me.”

“And Ross?”

April shrugged her shoulders. “Who cares about Ross?”

“I've seen the way you look at him.”

She shrugged.

“He doesn't want you. That's it, isn't it?” Marc said with a hint of cruelty. “You've always wanted what you can't have.”

“I want what you want, Daddy.”

“Then don't go off on your own. Jessica needs to be handled very carefully. I want her to trust me. She won't if my daughter abandons her in the middle of nowhere.”

“I'm sorry. I just thought …”

He sighed. “You thought you would outsmart your brother. You don't have to compete with him, baby.”

Her eyes flashed.
Damn
. April had always been competitive, especially with her brother. For some reason, she thought she had to outperform him to win approval. She'd always resented Hall, the son who'd been named after their great-grandfather. Marc sighed. Great things had always been expected of Hall, little from her. A good marriage for April would have suited him fine.