The Hideaway

by Meryl Sawyer

  “Not really. You hadn’t bothered to even say hello to me since you moved back to Taos, so I had no idea how you normally behaved. You seemed a little tipsy, but I honestly didn’t think you were drunk. Claire, I told you who I was and you willingly made love to me.”

  She pondered the information, then said, “You should have told me that morning in the shop instead of letting me think I was a suspect.”

  “I should have,” he conceded. “I walked into your shop expecting you to remember our night together. You acted weird, and it wasn’t until later that I realized you didn’t remember a damn thing. I thought you’d reverted to being snooty.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me later? It wasn’t as if you didn’t have the chance.”

  “I didn’t want to give you a reason to hate me any more than you already did. I thought I could protect you … and myself.”

  “Protect yourself from what?” Her voice was toneless now, and he could see Claire was beyond anger. She had trusted him enough to remain behind bars while he solved two crimes. Would he ever be able to get her to trust him again?

  “I didn’t want anyone asking questions about what I was doing there.”

  “Everyone would assume you were looking for drug dealers or something. No one would care.”

  “Bam Stegner will care. When he hears this story, he’ll know exactly what I was doing there.”

  Claire looked at him blankly, then a small gasp escaped her lips as she finally realized exactly why he had gone to Stegner’s club. “You stole Bam’s bear. You freed Khadafi! I never dreamed it was you!”

  “When you represent the law, you don’t break the law. I didn’t want a soul to know I was there, or I would have lost my job. My car was hidden in the woods. I was going back to it when I saw you.” He pulled his fists out of his pockets and turned his palms up, shrugging. “What can I say? I’ve always been crazy about you. I slipped into the room and called your name.”

  “I thought Seth was calling me.”

  “How was I supposed to know that? You walked in and let me kiss you. It wasn’t until later when I researched the effects of Roofies that I realized you were mentally disconnected from what was happening and would never remember our night together.”

  She studied him, her expression cold and closed. “Do you know how many nights I was awake worrying about not having an alibi? I just spent days in hell because of it.”

  “If I’d been in town, you never would have been arrested.” It was a lame excuse and he knew it. “I should have told you when I returned, but I was afraid to tip off Vanessa by getting you released. She might have destroyed incriminating evidence.”

  “You asked me to trust you, and I did, but you didn’t trust me one little bit. Did you?”

  “No,” he admitted. “I didn’t. Be honest with yourself, Claire. Why should I trust you? You’re not even willing to be seen in public with me.”

  She turned away from him, but not before he saw the hurt expression. Man, oh, man. He was not explaining his way out of this the way he had hoped. He was just making things worse.

  “What else have you lied about?” She sounded tired and disgusted.

  “Nothing.” He bit out the word, barely resisting the urge to haul her into his arms and kiss her until she admitted they were meant for each other.

  “I don’t believe you.” She turned on him, anger spiking every word. “I’ll bet my mother wasn’t involved with your father for years. He was a talented sculptor and he used his talent as a way of getting close to my mother. You made up the long-term affair to get back at my father.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Claire,” he began, but he could see he was wasting his time. “It always comes down to the same thing, doesn’t it?”

  “I should have listened to my father—”

  Zach headed for the door, shutting out her words. He’d been wrong, and he was more than willing to admit it. But he didn’t want their parents dragged into the middle of every argument. Weren’t they beyond this?

  He snapped his fingers, calling, “Lobo! We’re outta’ here.”

  Lobo bounded up to the door, and Zach walked out without looking back. He drove home, disgusted with himself and angry with her. He’d been kidding himself if he thought this relationship was going anywhere.

  At home he dropped onto the bed without taking off his clothes or boots. For once luck was with him. He was so damn exhausted he didn’t toss and turn, thinking about Claire.

  Hours later, he awakened, the gray light of early dawn filling the room. Lobo was beside him, his hackles raised, growling, low and fierce. There was another noise, too, but his groggy brain couldn’t immediately identify the low rumble. The noise became an ominous roar. He jumped to his feet and rushed to the window.

  In his driveway were a dozen Hell’s Angels, revving their Harleys. Bam Stegner was leading them, his silver spurs gleaming in the early morning light.

  Thirty-two

  The morning sun was warm against her back, and the scent of dew-wet sage hung in the summer air. From the top branch of the cottonwood a blue jay scolded Claire as she knocked on her father’s door.

  After Zach had left last night, she had forced herself to go to bed, but she’d barely slept, awakened by disturbing dreams. She’d been stunned to learn Zach had been the mysterious stranger. Her memories of that night had been elusive, true, but she had never suspected Zach had been the man.

  The mystery man had seemed so gentle … so sensitive. Those were the last words she would ever use to describe Zach.

  Maybe her brain had played a trick on her. She’d done a little reading about Rohypnol. It was a powerful drug that induced memory loss. The impressions she had were vague at best. Still, it seemed to have been a pleasurable experience unlike the traumatic incidents reported by many other women who had been secretly given Roofies.

  Zach had not been responsible for giving her the drug, but she still couldn’t help being upset with him. He had let her worry herself sick because she didn’t have an alibi. Then she’d sat in jail, terrified circumstantial evidence would convict her. Anger burned hot and raw inside her. If possible, she was even more furious with Zach now than she had been last night.

  Her father’s front door swung open, and Maude said, “Claire, thank heavens you’re out of jail. Imagine, Vanessa Trent charged with murder.”

  Claire stepped into the entry hall. “She had plenty of motive.”

  Maude lowered her voice. “Did you hear the CNN report on how the police broke the case?”

  Claire shook her head. She had been too preoccupied to turn on the television.

  “They’re saying Zachary Coulter tricked the actress into confessing. It was a brilliant move. A little shady, I guess. It looks as if he’ll be forced to resign.”

  “Zach?” Claire said, astonished. “Resign as sheriff.”

  “Yes. The FBI agent and the Federal Marshal Greer give the sheriff full credit for bringing her to justice. But the reporters say he did it in an underhanded way. Some people are howling for his badge. Others are calling him a hero.”

  Zach had never given himself credit for doing anything more than checking Vanessa’s alibi. She was angry with him, true, but if he had gone out on a limb to help her, she hadn’t properly thanked him. She’d breezed out of jail, never thinking her freedom might cost Zach his job.

  Suddenly, it became more urgent than ever to talk with her father. Zach had been wrong not to tell her about the night in The Hideaway, but he had done so much to help her when no one else could.

  “I need to see my father.”

  Maude adjusted the apron covering her denim dress. “Claire … he hasn’t changed his mind about Zachary Coulter.”

  “I just want to ask him one quick question.”

  Maude reluctantly led her down the hall into the breakfast room overlooking the courtyard. Her father was seated at the table, the morning paper beside his plate, the television on CNN.

  Claire sat down be
side him, saying, “There’s something I need to ask you.”

  He refused to answer or even look at her.

  “Don’t you think you’re behaving childishly?” she asked. “I want to talk to you.”

  He slowly turned to face her. “What do you want to know?”

  “Promise you’ll be totally honest with me,” she said, and he nodded. “Was Mother involved with Jake Coulter for a long time, or was it just a short fling?”

  Claire heard Maude’s startled intake of breath, but her father’s gaze remained steady, emotionless. He let the question hang in the vacuum of silence as if it were beneath him to answer it.

  “Look, I’ve just spent time in jail. I had plenty of opportunity to think about my life. I need to know the truth about Mother, so I can—”

  “Justify your relationship with Zach Coulter.”

  The animosity in his voice shouldn’t have surprised her, yet it did. Even though he had been the one to be so cruel to Zach her father still harbored an unhealthy amount of anger. She refused to give him any more ammunition against Zach by telling what Zach had done. Their relationship was over—not that it had ever really gotten going.

  “If it weren’t for Zach, I would still be in prison,” she informed her father. “This has nothing to do with him. I need to know the truth about my mother.”

  Several uncomfortable seconds ticked by as her father watched her with an unwavering stare. Finally, he said, “Amy became involved with Jake Coulter shortly after you were born.”

  She couldn’t stifle her gasp. Zach had been telling the truth; her image of her family had been nothing more than an illusion. Finally, she managed to whisper, “That long ago?”

  “Yes, that long ago.” His voice broke, and he averted his head self-consciously.

  “Why didn’t you divorce her?” she asked, struggling to understand how he could have put up with the affair for almost fifteen years.

  Maude rushed from the room as if she couldn’t bear to listen to his answer, Claire realized the older woman had never been told about this. Claire waited, unable to imagine a man with her father’s pride ignoring his wife’s affair.

  “Maybe it’s time you did know the whole truth,” he said finally, his voice leaden with stark pain.

  “It’s more than time,” Claire told him. “I have to know.”

  “Your mother would have divorced me in a second except she knew I had the money and connections to prevent her from taking you with her. She loved you so much that she stayed … She stayed for you.”

  Oh, my, God. Claire tried to imagine how torn her mother must have been. Yet she had carried on, living what had seemed to be a happy life. All the while, she had secretly loved another man. “You used me to keep her.”

  “Yes,” he admitted without a hint of remorse. “Sometimes you can love a woman too much.”

  Dangerously close to screaming at him, Claire rose, asking herself what kind of a man used a child as a pawn. All these years she’d condemned her mother, never once suspecting her mother had sacrificed her own happiness because she loved Claire.

  And in the end, the child Amy Holt had loved so much, had been the one to cause her death.

  The ache in Claire’s chest grew more intense with each heartbeat. If she had been less of a “little princess” and more worldly like Zach, Claire would never have run to her father after discovering her mother with Jake Coulter. She had embarrassed her father, forcing him to take action.

  “I just had one more year with Amy,” her father said. “I knew the day you went off to college, she would leave me for Jake Coulter.”

  An overwhelming feeling of pity engulfed her and she saw her father for what he was—a pathetic man. He had emotionally blackmailed her mother into staying with him. Her death had only intensified his obsession.

  “Why can’t you stop living in the past, pining for a woman who never loved you? Take a close look at Maude, and you’ll see all the love you’ll ever need.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Get a life, Father. Let me find a counselor who can help you.”

  “Help me?” Her father turned a mottled red and shoved her hand away. “I don’t need help. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  How could she make him see his obsession was unhealthy? Maybe she couldn’t. After all, he had clung to this for years. “Let’s get counseling together.”

  “Claire, there isn’t a damn thing wrong with me. You’re the one who loves a Coulter. You’re the one who needs help.”

  Heartsick, Claire drove directly from her father’s home to the gallery. So, Zach had been telling the truth. For years, her father had let her believe a lie. He had also encouraged her to think Jake Coulter was a man who hopped from bed to bed. She didn’t have to ask to know this was yet another lie. Jake had loved her mother; she had no doubt he’d been faithful to her even though he was married to another woman.

  I’ve always been crazy about you.

  Zach’s words echoed through her head, a bittersweet refrain. Had he always loved her? At this point, she had to admit anything was possible. She just didn’t know what to believe any longer. She’d assumed he was a torn cat just like his father, but maybe, it wasn’t true. She’d hadn’t actually seen him out with a woman. But he was so handsome that it was impossible to imagine there were no women in his life.

  I’ve always been crazy about you.

  She remembered the night of the Art Festival. She’d asked him how he interpreted Paul’s painting. Zach had said the cowboy loved the woman, but didn’t know if she would accept him the way he was. Had Zach been trying to tell heir something?

  Suddenly, she was no longer as angry with him as she had been. Sure, she was still upset, but she understood. Trust did not come easy to Zach Coulter. At what point in their relationship had she really given him reason to trust her?

  If she had told him about going to her father, things might have been different. At first she had hesitated, not wanting to push him into committing himself. Last night she could have told him, but she had been too angry to admit she had chosen him over her father.

  Knowing Zach had risked his career to help her made Claire feel even more ashamed of the childish way she had behaved. He had been wrong; she’d been wrong.

  They both had to learn to trust each other.

  She parked in the lot behind The Rising Sun, then let Lucy out. As Lucy’s paws hit the ground, Claire heard a whimpering sound from beneath the old cottonwood. Lucy dashed over to the figure huddled in the shadows.

  “Lobo?” Claire cried, coming closer.

  Blood oozed from a gash on the dog’s side, matting the dense fur. One of his ears had been partially severed and hung limp against his head, coated with dark-red blood. A peculiar looking puncture had narrowly missed putting out his eye; the lid was drooping at half mast.

  He lurched to his feet, staggered two steps, then collapsed with a heart-wrenching yelp. Lucy lovingly licked the wound on his side as Lobo whimpered, seeming to plead with Claire to save him.

  “Where’s Zach?” Claire cried, frantic. She glanced around, half-expecting to see Zach. Instead, she noticed the trail of blood across the parking lot. Had Lobo come here seeking help?

  “Zach must be at the station or something,” she said out loud, knowing Lobo had lost so much blood that she didn’t have time to locate Zach.

  She had no idea how she found the strength to lift a dog so heavy, but she managed to boost him into the Jeep. Foot to the floor, she sped the few short blocks to the veterinarian.

  “Lobo’s been in a fight,” she breathlessly explained to Dr. Walker once she was inside. “A mountain lion or something got him.”

  The vet peered at Lobo over half-moon glasses, shaking his head. “An animal couldn’t do this. A knife or another weapon caused these wounds.”

  “Can you save Lobo?”

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” the veterinarian warned. “He’s in critical condition.”

  Claire put her hand on Lobo’s
noble head, and he opened his eyes just a crack. “Come on, big guy. Hang in there.”

  Lucy whimpered from Claire’s side as if she understood and was encouraging Lobo to fight for his life. Lobo’s one good eye was glazed over, but he trained it on Lucy. Claire wondered if Lobo had come to get her, or had the dog sensed he was going to die and come to say good-bye to Lucy?

  Claire ran her hand over his muzzle. “You’re a wonderful dog. You saved me from the rattlesnake. Hang on and let Dr. Walker help you.”

  Lobo’s eye snapped shut, and his body went limp. Lucy barked twice, but Lobo didn’t move. Claire petted Lucy, and the two of them stood watching helplessly as the doctor and his assistant carried Lobo away.

  A knife. What had happened? Claire wondered. A chill of apprehension invaded her bones, making her tremble. She was shaking even harder a few minutes later when no one answered at Zach’s home. A call to the station confirmed Zach wasn’t there either. No one knew where he was.

  She called Paul Winfrey and arranged for him to meet her out at Zach’s place. On her way there, she swung by the chapter house, betting Tohono would be there as usual consulting with the tribal council. When she explained what had happened, he came with her, his expression grim.

  Paul and Angela were waiting for them at Zach’s. They had discovered Zach’s Bronco was in the garage and the house had been left unlocked, but he was nowhere around. There were bloodstains on the path leading up to the front door.

  “Lobo must have come all the way into town to get me,” Claire cried.

  “We’d better call the authorities,” Angela said.

  Claire could just imagine how much help Ollie Hammond would be. After all, he’d sided with Vanessa Trent, insisting her version of the time of death was correct. When the actress had turned out to be the killer, Ollie had been humiliated enough to announce his retirement, but he hadn’t left yet.

  While they were discussing what to do, Tohono walked down the lane that led up to Zach’s house, checking the ground as he went. He returned to the porch, saying, “I will call the pueblo trackers to examine the marks in the dirt. They appear to be single tire marks—”