Wink of an Eye

by Lynn Chandler Willis

  “Like a hiccup,” Rhonda said. She pointed out the “hiccup” in the pictures.

  “Exactly. Did you notice the tire needing air?” Sophia asked, glancing up at me.

  I slowly shook my head. “No, but it’s been several weeks since Ryce was killed. McCoy’s probably had it patched since then. What about the rope?”

  Sophia smiled. “Rodney told you about it?”

  “He said you were having the lab in Odessa analyze it.”

  “There was definitely epidermis on the smaller portion. And even a trace of blood.”

  “Was that the noose?” Rhonda asked.

  Sophia and I looked at one another. “Yeah,” I said. I pushed my hand through my hair, wondering how I was going to tell Tatum the rope he saw in the back of Averitt McCoy’s truck was the rope that killed his father. Truth was, the kid probably already knew it.

  “So what’s next?” Rhonda asked.

  “What I do best … surveillance work. I want to find out who’s pulling Gaylord Denny’s strings, and why. Would you like to join me?” I asked Sophia. It beat the hell out of spending several hours in the van with Rodney.

  “How soon do you think you’ll be ready to get back to work?” Sophia asked.

  “As soon as they turn me loose. Probably another day or two.”

  “Now, wait just a minute,” Rhonda said. “You’ve been through a major trauma. The doctor said you’d need physical therapy. Plus, you’re supposed to have blood drawn every few days to check for organ damage—”

  “The physical therapy is getting used to walking on crutches, which I’ve done before. And the blood work is outpatient. Besides, there’s not a lot of physical work required in putting a tail on someone. All that’s required is a lot of sitting and a lot of coffee.”

  “Gypsy, I’m not so sure—” Rhonda started, then stopped. “Ooh … hi, Claire.”

  I looked up at the door and thought I was going to need the ventilator again. Her smile nearly took my breath away. Her smile turned into more of a smirk as she eyed Sophia.

  Sophia turned to get a look at my other visitor. Her brows raised with surprise. She stood and offered Claire her hand. “Mrs. Sellars. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  Claire ignored Sophia’s outstretched hand but did smile. “Ms.… I’m sorry … I don’t remember your name.”

  “Ortez,” I said before Sophia had the chance.

  “Ah, yes. I didn’t realize you two knew each other.” She waved her hand in our direction like she was shooing away a fly.

  I gathered the pictures that were spread on the bed table and handed them to Sophia. “Sophia’s helping me with an investigation.”

  “Oh. How nice of her.”

  The tension in the room was growing at a very uncomfortable rate. Claire was showing her true colors and it wasn’t a pretty sight. I was within seconds of pressing the nurse-call button for a little something to knock me out.

  “Well, I think I’ll run down and see Mom, then grab something to eat,” Rhonda said, anxious to get the hell out of there.

  “I need to be going, too. I’ll walk down with you,” Sophia said. She put the pictures back in the book bag, then smiled at me. “Call me.” She smiled at Claire, then waltzed out of the room with Rhonda in tow.

  Claire watched them leave, waited a moment, then pushed the bed table out of the way, leaned in, and kissed me hard on the mouth. After she pulled away, she stood gazing at me. “I was worried I wouldn’t ever be able to do that again. Rhonda said it was touch and go for a while.”

  I grinned. “You know Rhonda. She tends to be a little dramatic.”

  She sat down in the chair Sophia had sat in. “Last rites and a ventilator is a little dramatic.”

  My mind was bouncing like a Ping-Pong ball. I wanted to grab her and love her. I wanted to know how she knew Sophia. I wanted a pain pill.

  “Are you going to tell me how you got snakebit?” She was smiling again and the Ping-Pong ball was bouncing toward option number one.

  “Oh … I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  She leaned forward and examined my foot. The scent of her jasmine shampoo seduced my olfactory nerves. “It actually looks pretty good, considering.”

  “So, how do you know Sophia Ortez?” I finally asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

  She threw her head back and laughed. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  “I asked first.”

  Her laugh settled into the infamous Claire smirk. “She covered Steven’s campaign. She was determined to find a skeleton in his closet, but always came up short.” She shrugged.

  I wondered if the shrug meant her husband was clean or if Sophia just didn’t dig deep enough. I wondered if it involved hiring illegals?

  “Your turn. How do you know her?”

  Now I shrugged. “Like I said earlier, she’s helping me with an investigation.”

  She lowered her brows and crinkled her perfect nose. “I didn’t realize your trip home was a working visit.”

  “It didn’t start that way. I’m just doing a favor for a friend.”

  She smiled devilishly. “And I’m sure the fact your working partner is absolutely beautiful doesn’t hinder this investigation at all.”

  I fought back a grin. “Oh … Sophia? I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Don’t make me stomp on your bad foot.”

  We both laughed until I started wondering what was wrong with this picture. Claire was the one who was married. I hadn’t asked Sophia if she was seeing anyone, but to my knowledge, we were both free agents.

  Claire got up out of the chair and sat close beside me on the bed, nuzzling my neck. I hadn’t shaved in five days. I didn’t want to imagine what her porcelain skin was going to look like. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she whispered, and I believed her.

  Still, it irritated me that here was the wife of a state senator, recognizable to some in the general public, sidling up to me in my hospital bed like she was ready to see how okay I really was. I turned my head only slightly, but it was enough to cause her to pull back and glare at me.

  “Okay,” she said, and judging by her tone, I braced myself for the coming storm. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

  I was wanting that pain pill something fierce. “Actually … I need to talk to you about your husband.”

  She stared hard at me with questioning eyes. “Steven?”

  “Unless there’s another one I don’t know about.”

  She laid her hands in her lap like a schoolgirl and smiled softly. “Steven’s the only man I ever married. The only man I ever wanted to marry loved Las Vegas more than he loved me.”

  Oh, that was a low blow. The same could be said for the only woman I ever wanted to marry who loved horses and cows more than she loved me. “Why’d you marry him if you didn’t love him?”

  She blew a heavy sigh. “He needed a wife for his career, and I needed a husband to keep the ranch.”

  “What do you mean to keep the ranch?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Daddy and his stupid ideas of what a woman can and can’t do. After his stroke, he was going to sell the ranch. He didn’t think a woman could run it. Even if that woman was his own daughter.”

  “Does Steven know anything about running a ranch?”

  She looked at me and grinned. “About as much as you do.”

  I returned the smile but something wasn’t adding up. She had told me the night at the motel that they had been married twelve years. Carroll Kinley suffered his stroke four years ago. They were married long before Daddy threatened to sell.

  “But weren’t you and Steven already married when your dad had the stroke?”

  She stared at me for a long time, then finally looked away as her eyes filled with tears. “What do you want me to say, Gypsy? That I got tired of waiting for you to come back? Steven was nice, he was convenient.”

  I’m sure Senator Sellars would like to know he was convenient. “Do
you love him?”

  She turned to me, her lips arched in a sweet smile. “No.”

  I took a deep breath, wanting to avoid what I knew was coming next.

  “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.”

  I called that one as if she were reading from a script. Probably because I was reading from the same script, reciting the same lines.

  “And a divorce wouldn’t be good for his political career,” I said quietly.

  She shrugged slightly. “That’s a part of it. If I divorce him, I lose the ranch.”

  I stared at her, uncertain of what she meant. “The ranch is in Steven’s name?”

  “It’s in both of our names. Daddy transferred ownership a few years ago.”

  “You could buy him out.”

  “Do you know how much the ranch is worth? Where would I ever get that kind of money?”

  I hated that ranch with a passion but because I knew what it meant to her, I was suddenly scrambling for ways for her to never lose it. “You could use your share as collateral.”

  “A loan against the ranch? With Carroll Kinley still alive?” She chuckled.

  “I guess killing him’s out of the question.”

  Her mouth dropped as she gently punched my shoulder. “Gypsy!”

  God knows the man had thought about killing me enough. I simply returned the thought. I lightly touched the scar on my lip. “I’m just kidding,” I finally said so she wouldn’t get any ideas. I had enough blood on my hands. I wondered how much blood Claire had on her hands? “How involved is Steven with the ranch?”

  She looked at me as if she didn’t understand the question, then slightly shook her head. “He’s not involved at all. I oversee most of the day-to-day operation. Sam—remember Sam? He’s still the foreman so he helps a lot.”

  “Who does the hiring?”

  She cocked her head and stared at me, grinning slyly. “Why? You need a job?”

  I laughed. “I tried that once. It didn’t end very well.”

  “Yeah, I never did get the mud out of my blouse.”

  She had the most annoying ability to change the subject, or totally distract me. I pushed the memories of our rain-soaked lovemaking out of my mind. “No, I don’t need a job,” I said and smiled. “But my current job does have a couple questions about the ranch.”

  “Your current job? You’re investigating the ranch?” She turned away and stared straight ahead, nodding angrily. “She won’t give up.”

  She’d lost me. “Who won’t give up?”

  “That Mexican reporter. The one that was just in here. Did she put you up to this?”

  “Claire, no one put me up to anything. I was hired by a family to investigate a suspected murder.”

  She sprang from the bed and spun around to stare at me. “A murder? At the K-Bar? When?”

  I shook my head and quickly raised my hands to calm her rising anger. “It wasn’t at the ranch. The ranch isn’t even involved, not directly anyway.”

  “What do you mean ‘not directly’?” She was getting louder, and angrier.

  “Claire, calm down. No one is investigating the ranch.”

  “Then why all the questions? Who does the hiring … how involved is Steven … you were interrogating me.”

  She always did have a flair for the dramatic. “I wasn’t interrogating you. I had some questions because there were some things that came up during the course of the investigation that jumped out at me.”

  “What kind of things?”

  I took a deep breath and figured I might as well put it out on the table. “The K-Bar employs several undocumented workers. I didn’t know if you were aware of that.”

  She looked away, her mouth twisted into a tight knot. She didn’t say anything for a long while and I could see the words tumbling around in her head as she contemplated what to say. Finally, she looked at me, then sat back down on the bed. “I don’t know that much about your business, Gypsy, but I imagine you work by yourself most of the time. I doubt in your line of work you’ve ever had the need to hire someone. The Mexicans who work at the ranch are good men. They’re hard workers. It’s not an easy job. I mean, you lasted what … one summer?”

  “Claire, I’m not saying they’re not good men. But it can’t look good for a state senator to knowingly be working illegals.”

  She sighed again then spoke in a soft voice. “He doesn’t know.”

  That’s not what I wanted to hear. I wanted her to tell me her husband was the mastermind behind everything and she was totally mortified at his unscrupulous behavior. But it’s not a perfect world.

  “Did you hire them or did Sam?”

  She closed her eyes and spoke in a sad voice. “I did. I think part of me did it out of spite, thinking how it might even benefit me for the good senator to be caught in a scandal. He couldn’t really make too many demands for a divorce settlement if his career was at stake.”

  “And what about the other part?”

  She stiffened her back and set her jaw. “It was strictly business. It was financially beneficial to everyone involved.”

  Everyone except the eight missing girls.

  She sniffled back tears, then laid her head on my shoulder. “So what do we do now? Is your pretty Mexican girlfriend going to expose Senator Sellars’s dirty little secret?”

  “It’s not his dirty little secret.”

  She wiped at her face, then glanced up at me. “You know, this might not be a bad thing. If he thinks his political career is in jeopardy, he might be willing to negotiate a more reasonable settlement.”

  That was my Claire. Always thinking. Always thinking about how she could benefit from someone else’s problems.

  “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s a business associate,” I said, referring to Sophia.

  She pulled away and looked at me. “I hope you’re not one to mix business with pleasure.”

  I put my arm around her and pulled her to me. “Only at the company Christmas party, sweetheart.”

  CHAPTER 18

  I wanted to kill Rhonda as soon as Rodney pulled into the driveway. I had the sinking feeling my sister was throwing a coming-home party and I was the guest of honor. Rodney parked behind Tatum and Burke’s truck. My mother’s two-seater sports car was parked in the yard and a shiny red Mercedes convertible was parked behind my van.

  “Rodney … what is she doing?” I asked, staring at the bright yellow balloons and yellow ribbon tied to the porch rail.

  “Don’t be mad at her, Gypsy. She means well.”

  He closed the passenger-side door after I got out. I maneuvered the crutches along the walkway, still unable to put any weight on my left foot. I stopped and stared at the Mercedes, praying Dr. Merrick hadn’t taken my mother up on her offer.

  Inside, a “Welcome Home” banner stretched across the top of the archway between the living room and the kitchen. Clusters of yellow balloons were taped to each end of the banner; a few strays had escaped and were floating around the ceiling.

  I was more than pleasantly surprised, and a bit embarrassed, to discover the Mercedes didn’t belong to Dr. Merrick. It was Sophia’s. She was sitting beside Tatum on the sofa and smiled coyly at me.

  “He’s here!” Tatum squeaked as he leapt up. He ran over and awkwardly wrapped his arms around my waist.

  “We can see that, Tatum,” Burke said, and shook his head, grinning. He was parked in his chair near the television. “Don’t knock him down or he might need this ol’ chair before the night’s over.”

  Rhonda, Mom, and Gram all gathered at the doorway. Rhonda was wearing an apron, Mom had an oven mitt on one hand, and Gram was holding a wooden spoon. With this collection of women in the same kitchen—the house hadn’t burned to the ground yet—I was impressed.

  Rhonda squealed like she was meeting a rock star. “Welcome home!” She hugged me, then kissed me on the cheek.

  “How’s the foot?” Mom asked.

  “Good,” I lied. I wasn’t going to say it hur
t like hell in front of Sophia.

  “Damn lucky they didn’t cut it off,” Gram huffed, then went back to the kitchen mumbling something about Grandpa and a nest of rattlers.

  “Gram—keep that spoon out of the spaghetti,” Rhonda said, and hurried to follow her back into the kitchen. “You’re goin’ to make it gummy.”

  Mom looked at me and shrugged. What did she know about spaghetti? She turned and headed back into the kitchen to referee.

  I smiled apologetically at Sophia. At least, to my knowledge, Rhonda’s spaghetti dinner was a family-and-friends affair and not a community-wide fund-raiser.

  “Tatum, help him over to the sofa while I put his bag away,” Rodney said.

  I didn’t need the help but humored Tatum anyway and let him think he was my rock of stability.

  “I sure am glad they didn’t have to cut your foot off,” he said, his arm still wrapped around my waist.

  I grinned. “So am I.”

  I eased myself down beside Sophia onto the sofa and laid the crutches across the coffee table. She still hadn’t said a word but her presence was undeniable. She was generating enough electricity to power a small city.

  “Well … this is kind of embarrassing,” I mumbled.

  Her perfect nose twitched as she controlled a small smile. “I think it’s kind of sweet,” she whispered, leaning toward me as if sharing a secret.

  Tatum sat down in an old recliner Gram had brought with her when she moved in years ago. It had once smelled like cigar smoke. In recent years, it had taken on an old-person, menthol smell. “So, what do we do now?” Tatum asked. “We have the proof we need, right?”

  “Will you let the man enjoy his first night at home?” Burke said. “The evidence isn’t going anywhere. Is it?” He looked at Sophia, then at me.

  “Rodney has everything secured, and properly tagged. And I do plan on getting back to work tomorrow.” I grinned at Tatum.

  “Great. What are we doing?”

  “Tatum,” Burke scolded.

  I laughed and Sophia giggled softly. “It’s okay, Burke. He has other motives. He wants to put this thing behind him so I can take him up to the sinkholes to take some pictures.”