Whitehorse (37 page)

"I won't back down," he repeated more firmly. "I'm too damn close, Savanah. I had proof in my hand until…"

"Until the accident?" Savanah's voice quivered a little, yet she did not take her gaze from Johnny. "What happened the night Dolores was killed? Don't tell me you were reckless. You're not a reckless man. What sent you off that highway, Johnny? What really caused Dolores's death?"

Johnny rode in silence as Savanah watched him, her expression expectant and worried. "She had dirt on Foster," he admitted. "Proof that there was more behind his involvement in closing down the Apache gambling resort than just his great crusade to stop gambling corruption on the reservation and save the Indian from himself. That night after leaving the restaurant, we were forced off the road by another car. Whatever proof she had about the senator burned up in the crash." He said more to himself than to Savanah, "I suspected she was getting pretty damn close to discovering something. She hinted occasionally that after she broke the story there wouldn't be a network in this country that wouldn't beg her to work for them."

"She told you nothing?"

Johnny shook his head. "No way. She wasn't about to risk the information leaking out before she could break it herself. Whatever evidence she got the night of the accident would have, in her own words, blown the lid off the gambling industry as well as
Washington
."

Savanah sank back in the seat and closed her eyes. "I was afraid it was something like that. Damn, oh damn." She began to cry.

Johnny hit the brakes and eased the truck onto the shoulder of the highway, then shoved the gearshift into neutral before turning to Savanah and taking her face in one hand. "You didn't come back to Ruidoso just to pay your condolences to Dolores, did you, Savanah? Let's face it. You and she weren't exactly friendly the last few years."

Savanah shook her head, crying harder. "I had to know. I didn't want to think that
I…"
She tried to pull away. "I have to get out of here. I can't breathe."

Shoving open the truck door, Savanah jumped out, stumbling down the shoulder as Johnny killed the engine and left the truck. He slid partially down the grassy slope before finding his footing and catching up to her. Grabbing her arm, he spun her around, caught her with both hands and held her in place as tears streamed from her eyes.

"It's all my fault," she cried, refusing to look at him. "What the hell was I thinking, Johnny? I should have realized. They somehow found
out…"

"What are you saying, Savanah?" He shook her gently, insisting that she regain composure. "Look at me, sweetheart."

At last she raised her dark eyes up to his. "This is all my fault. I shouldn't have listened to her. I only wanted to help you. To help the resort and put the people back to work. Had I for one minute realized she was doing all this for the sake of her career—"

"What the hell are you saying?" Johnny demanded, holding her tighter as her body began to shake uncontrollably.

"Oh, God, Johnny." She sank into his arms. "I think I killed my sister."

EIGHTEEN

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T
he wading pool had been filled with fresh water, and by the looks of the muddy sand around the base of the blue-and-green molded plastic there had been a great deal of recent activity. There were several yellow rubber ducks gliding on the water's surface, scooted along by the occasional gust of hot wind whipping down the mountains.

Throughout the hours of boiling sun, swarming flies, colicky horses, and trainers who questioned and cursed Jake over every decision he made, Leah had found her mind drifting to days long past when she and Johnny would sneak away into the mountains to swim in the cold water of crystal-clear streams, then lie like basking seals on massive boulders, naked, counting hawks and eagles that soared high overhead. Back then their only worry in life had been over their being discovered together. Not that she really cared, much. But Johnny did, not for himself, but for his father.

With the windows rolled down on the truck and sweat inching down her sides under her manure-and bloodstained clothes, Leah stared vacantly through the bug-spotted windshield at the ducks that, scooted by the wind, bumped and nudged one another, and she thought how nice it would be to take Val to those streams, to see the pleasure on his face as the brisk water rushed around his tight legs, and trout, easily seen through the clear-as-glass water, swam round and round his ankles before nibbling at his toes. But those places were for children who could walk, who could pull themselves up over ledges that were little more than footholds for birds.

As the engine shuddered and died, she blinked salty sweat from her eyes and glanced down at the clock.

"Seven-thirty," she read aloud, then tapped the plastic over the clock face, certain there must be some mistake. For the last week she had not left the track before ten at the earliest. Yet the sun just creeping behind the western horizon was proof enough that she was, indeed, home. It was daylight, for a while anyway. She would get to see her son awake for a change. Perhaps he could even entice her to run down to the local Dairy Duchess for a hot-fudge sundae, his favorite, topped with two fat cherries.

She stepped from the truck to be greeted by the pygmy goats, grabbing her jeans and tugging for attention. She scratched them between the horns and allowed them to give her a wet kiss on the cheek before heading for the kitchen screen door. Only then did she discover the collection of cars and trucks parked on the north side of the barn, out of the sun—one of them Johnny's truck, she noted with a flutter of excitement in her stomach.

A Weber barbecue grill sat beside the steps, coals glowing hot and the smell of cooking grease making her stomach growl. When had she last eaten anything that had not come out of a vending machine in the jockeys' lounge?

A shout of masculine voices erupted through the door, stopping Leah short. There were whoops followed by, "Kick his ass! Oh, man, that kinda play should be illegal. You guys get ready to pay up. Yo' money is history!"

"Damn game isn't over till the fat lady sings, you baldheaded bastard. Gonzales is gonna knock that ball into the next county."

Leah eased open the screen door.

The kitchen table was crowded with platters of crispy hamburger patties, blackened wieners, bowls of chips and tubs of dips. A washtub full of ice and stuffed with beer, wine coolers, and a sweating bottle of Chardonnay sat on the floor near a pile of wet towels and muddy rubber flip-flops.

Shirtless and barefoot, Johnny walked into the kitchen, a ketchup-stained dish towel thrown over his shoulder, a hot dog oozing mustard and relish in one hand. His eyes widened when he saw her, and he gave her a lazy smile.

"Wanna a beer? Never mind. You like strawberry wine coolers, as I recall." He reached into the tub and withdrew an icy cooler, tossed it to her, then grabbed up a Budweiser and pointed toward the living room. "We're watching the game."

"We?"

"Me and the guys."

"The guys?"

"Edwin. Bobby,
Roy
. Oh, and Sam Clark."

"Sam?"

"He dropped by to say hello. So I invited him to stay. It's Friday and he didn't have anything else to do."

Leah allowed the screen door to close behind her, allowing Johnny a good look at her at last. His eyes narrowed and the amusement that had twinkled in his eyes became serious. "Looks like you had a rough day, baby."

"Not the best. Jake thought I'd had enough and sent me home early." She grinned. "Wanna tell me what's going on? Where is Shamika?"

"I gave her the night off. She said something about Mojo's Truck Stop and kicking up her heels."

"And Val?"

He grinned again and crooked his finger at her. Leah moved to the living-room door. Ed, Roy, Sam, and Robert Anderson were huddled around the television. Situated among them in his wheelchair, smiling, was her son, hair still wet from his pool time, shirtless like the rest of the gang, his face and shoulders red from the sun.

The men shouted again, their enthusiasm punctuated by Val yelling, "Kick his ass!"

Edwin extended his flattened hand to Val. "My man, give me five."

Val struggled hard, then slapped Edwin's hand.

The image brought moisture to Leah's eyes.

Laying both hands on Leah's shoulders, Johnny directed her toward her bedroom. "Where am I going?" She laughed with a lightness that made her feel giddy.

"To sit in a hot bath with lots of bubbles, drink your cooler, maybe listen to a little Neil Diamond, and when you've relaxed thoroughly, you can join us."

He escorted her to the bathroom, where a full tub of steaming honeysuckle-scented water awaited her. He kicked the door shut behind them, turned her around to face him, and began to unbutton her blouse.

"I called the track and talked to Jake. He said you were headed home and that you were exhausted."

"That's putting it mildly." Leah closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of Johnny's hands working the tiny buttons of her blouse. His knuckles brushed her breasts, then his fingertips. He unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, allowing them to fall open while he eased the blouse off her shoulders and let it drift to the floor.

As Johnny sat her down on the closed toilet seat and proceeded to remove her boots, Leah twisted the cap off the cooler, somewhat bemused that she was sitting on a toilet, half dressed, drinking a warmish wine cooler in front of Johnny Whitehorse.

"I wonder what your legion of adoring fans would think if they saw you now," she said, then took a swig of the drink.

"I'm not the one sitting on a toilet in my bra and drinking wine coolers," he retorted, flashing her a smile. "Hell, they've seen more of me exposed than my chest."

"Oh, yeah. That
NYPD Blue
show you did, showing your naked butt off to the entire country. As I recall, it was the highest-rated show of the season." She sipped again and rested back against the tank as Johnny slid the jeans down her legs and tossed them the way of her blouse, boots, and socks. "When I watched the show I thought, Aha, they've used makeup on his butt. I happen to know you have a birthmark on your right cheek. As I recall it looks like rabbit ears. Wonder what the
Globe
would pay for that juicy bit of information?"

He tweaked her nose, then reached for the bra hook between her breasts. "Not much, I think, unless you suggest to them that an alien bit me."

The bra fell away from her breasts, and Johnny's eyes turned smoky. "I remember the first time you actually allowed me to touch your breasts. You were so shy. And when I kissed them you would turn your face away and close your eyes." His fingers slid under the elastic of her panties and eased them down her hips to her knees and then her ankles.