by Toni Leland
Some of her earlier apprehension about her plans evaporated as the morning wore on, and her courage grew. She could do this. She would do this. Stephen couldn’t hurt her anymore.
Around eleven thirty, Dillon came in. “You about ready for lunch? I missed breakfast and I could eat a horse. Ooops. Sorry.”
Julia laughed. “Let me check with Bud.”
“I’m right behind ya. Hey Dillon, how’s that old rattletrap runnin’?”
“Better than the new ones. How’s that GTO comin’ along? You got the timing fixed yet?”
Julia watched with amusement as the two men talked engines and gears and other stuff that were a complete mystery to her. It was a view of maleness with which she was unfamiliar, but it felt right and she liked it.
The front door opened and she turned to take care of business, then almost threw up. Her past stood in front of her.
Stephen’s eyes glittered with malice and his cruel mouth curved around his words.
“Julia, Julia—what am I to do about you?”
He threw a careless glance at the two men in the corner, then leaned across the counter. “Did you really think you could fool me? I’ve known all along that you ran away. Who was it? That bastard from the library? Or some cowboy you met at the horse show?” His eyes traveled down her body and his face curdled into disgust. “Look at you. Fat and sloppy.”
Julia couldn’t make her mouth work, but her brain was spinning. Let him rant for a few minutes while she gained her composure. He wouldn’t hurt her in front of Bud and Dillon.
Stephen stepped back. “Well, a strict diet and the treadmill will get rid of that. Get your coat.”
“I’m not going with you.”
His face hardened. “Oh yes you are. Your little stunt cost me a fortune. You’ve had your fun, now get your coat.”
“I’m divorcing you, Stephen. Go home.”
“I’ll never give you a divorce. Are you crazy? The Dorsey family doesn’t do that sort of thing.”
Julia could feel Dillon’s intense scrutiny of the situation, and it fueled her courage.
“I can divorce you without your permission. Now go away.”
Dillon stepped up and cleared his throat. Stephen looked at him and frowned. “You have a problem?”
“No, but you have a problem if you don’t do as the lady says.”
Stephen turned back to Julia. “Is this who you’re fucking?”
With lightning speed, Dillon’s fist smashed into Stephen’s aristocratic face, knocking him back against a couple of gumball machines. Dillon grabbed the lapels of the fancy overcoat and yanked Stephen upright.
“You get the hell out of here before I lose my self-control.”
He let go and stepped back. Stephen wiped his mouth, then looked at the blood on his hand.
“You sonofabitch. I’ll have your ass for this. You don’t know who I am.” He turned to Julia. “You may be able to get your divorce, but I can still make your life miserable.”
Dillon stepped forward, ready to swing again, then looked out the window as a sheriff car slammed to a stop and a deputy leaped out.
Stephen stepped toward the officer as he came through the door. “This man just assaulted me.” He glanced back at Julia. “I was just here having a conversation with my wife.”
Bud came out from behind the counter. “Sheriff, this man came in here and threatened my employee, then shoved my friend.” He glowered at Stephen. “I’ll press charges.”
For the next five minutes, the deputy sorted out the various stories, then turned to Dillon. “You have some ID, sir?”
Dillon nodded and handed him a small card. The deputy’s eyes widened and he handed it back, his voice low with awe. “Ex-Secret Service. I’ll bet you’ve seen some real action, huh?”
“A little. Right now, I’d like to get this mess cleared up so my friends can get on with their business.”
The deputy turned to Stephen. “Mr. Dorsey, I think you’d better get on your airplane and go home before someone files a formal complaint. I don’t think you’d enjoy our rural jail.”
Stephen straightened his coat, then turned to Julia. “You haven’t heard the last from me.”
The deputy’s jaw hardened. “Sir, is that a threat?”
Stephen snorted and walked toward the door, then turned back and pinned Julia with an evil smile. “Oh, those stinking nags you loved so much? They’re on their way to a fancy restaurant somewhere in France.”
Chapter 43
A year’s worth of adrenaline crashed through Julia’s system and her knees buckled. Bud grabbed her shoulders and helped her into the lunch room. Dillon stayed behind to finish up with the deputy. Julia heard him outlining the details of Stephen’s arrival. She sank into one of the chairs and dropped her chin onto her chest. Her pulse thumped in her ears and she was beginning to feel sick to her stomach. But for all that, it was basically over. She’d stood up to Stephen, hard as it had seemed, and now the only thing left would be the formality of drawing up divorce papers.
Bud’s pudgy hand squeezed her shoulder. “You gonna be okay?”
She looked up and nodded, her lower lip trembling. “Bud, I’m so sorry about this. I sure didn’t mean to get you tangled up in my problems.”
“I got tangled up the day I agreed to pay your salary in cash. I may look like a country bumpkin, but I’m not stupid.” He pulled up a chair. “Any chance that guy will come back?”
Julia took a deep breath. “There’s always a chance. His ego drives everything he does.”
A pain started in her chest. Would she be forced to leave here to protect Bud and his business from Stephen’s far-reaching wrath?
The bell on the front door jangled and, a moment later, Dillon stepped into the room. “How are you doing?”
Her trembling had stopped and she rose to her feet. “I’m okay.” With an apologetic glance at Bud, she brushed past Dillon. “I’ll get back to work now.”
At the parts counter, she gazed at the door and out into the parking lot. It had been hard to admit to Bud that Stephen might return, but harder still to accept that fact for herself. If he decided to make her life hell, she’d be forced to move on again. Either that, or start right now by filing a restraining order to keep him away from all the things she loved.
Dillon dropped onto the motel bed and exhaled sharply. “Man, being friends with Ginger is more exciting than a drug bust.”
He flopped back on the bedspread. He still hadn’t eaten breakfast, but the adrenaline rush had obliterated his hunger. He closed his eyes. It had felt so good to punch that pompous ass in the face. If only he could have gotten in a couple more swings. One would have been for his mom. He grimaced. He’d better call her soon. She’d be disappointed that he hadn’t shown up for New Year’s.
He rolled off the bed and walked over to the table to stare at the unopened brown envelope. Why was he hesitating? He’d waited a long time for this opportunity, what was the hang-up? He gazed out the window. Maybe he was tired of the chase. The past was over, and he didn’t even know where Sal’s wife had gone. Other than closure, what was the point? He picked up the envelope and broke the seal, then sat down to read. The beginnings of anger were replaced by incredulity.
“You sonofabitch!”
He scanned the documents, stunned by Rusher’s report. A few minutes later, he set the papers aside and let out a long, slow whistle. Life was certainly a mystery.
The following day, Julia stayed true to her plans to see a lawyer and start getting her life back together. It turned out to be fairly simple. She’d have to obtain copies of her real identification, then Stephen would be served. If he didn’t respond, the state would grant her freedom. With no property or children involved, she could technically get the decree without his agreement, but if he fought it just to be contrary…she’d deal with that when the time came.
She sat in a booth at the truck stop restaurant, fiddling with her napkin and waiting for Dillon to arrive. He
’d been strangely subdued after the altercation at Bud’s, and she wondered if he was having second thoughts about his continued involvement with her. She wouldn’t blame him. She seemed to be a catastrophe just waiting to happen.
He slid into the booth and grinned. “Sorry, I ran into a buddy and lost track of time.” His features softened. “How did it go?”
“On the surface, it looks easy, but I’ve learned to never trust easy.” She glanced up at him. “Or anything else that seems too good to be true.” She blinked and looked away. “I can’t stop thinking about what Stephen said about my horses. I know the newspaper said they’d been sold at auction, but what if he really did pay someone to haul them away? I feel so helpless.”
Sympathy colored Dillon’s voice. “There must be a way to trace the transaction.”
“Only if Stephen is willing to give that information. By now, they could be in a stockyard waiting to be transported to Mexico or Canada.” Intense pain rose in her chest. “There isn’t anything I can do.”
“What about that site you found on the Internet? Could they help?”
“I don’t know, but it’s worth a try.” She shook her head. “I never even got Coquette’s picture registered. God only knows where she went.”
Dillon stood up and held out his hand. “Come on. Let’s get on this right away. It’s only been a week since the sale.”
She took his hand and fell into step beside him, hope brewing in her heart. His professional life had been spent tracking down information and, if anyone could help her, he could. She squeezed his fingers and he threw her a lopsided grin.
“The real estate transaction for your farm will have been registered by now, and the new owner might have some information on the disposition of the horses. We’ll start with that.”
Julia settled into a chair next to Dillon and stared at the screen on his laptop. Her arm barely touched his and she was acutely aware that they were alone in his motel room. Contentment trickled into her heart. She’d been alone with him before, but the tension and distractions had always been the determining force. She felt mildly surprised at how relaxed she felt, even though the situation with Stephen was far from over.
Dillon’s fingers moved over the keyboard and a series of screens popped up, one after the other. He leaned forward and read the small print, then sat back.
“There it is. The property was bought by someone from Oregon. Name, address and phone number.” He pulled out his cell phone, then stopped. “What time is it there?”
“Two hours earlier than here.”
Dillon paused, doing the math, then dialed. He smiled at her while he waited for an answer, then his eyebrows knit together.
“Yes, this is Special Agent Dillon with the Treasury Department calling for Esther or James Franklin. This is about the property in Washington State that you recently purchased. Please call me back at your earliest convenience.”
He recited the phone number and hung up.
Julia stared at him. “Can you do that?”
He grinned. “I can, but if I get caught, I’m in deep doo doo.”
She sat back in the chair and considered him for a moment. “How is your personal investigation going?”
He looked startled, then chuckled. “All done. Bad guy’s caught. End of story.”
She glowered. “That’s all you’re going to tell me? Come on, give. I want to know details.”
He stared at her for a minute. “I can’t tell you the classified parts, but since I wasn’t official in my hunt for the traitor, that part’s fair game. All the time I was trying to get a handle on what had happened, my agency chief was doing his own investigation. He never told me, probably didn’t want me blundering into his way. I’ve been called a loose cannon more than once…anyway, turns out we had a double agent in our camp, a guy who was taking kick-backs from the counterfeit ring to keep them informed of every move we made. Which explains why the bad guys always disappeared just about the time we thought we had a wrap-up.”
Julia let out a slow breath. “What about the ambush where you were shot?”
Dillon’s features hardened. “Apparently, the counterfeiters decided Sal and I were doing too good—” He frowned. “Hey, how did you know I was shot in that operation?”
“You’re not the only one who can find things on the Internet.”
He regarded her for a moment. “So how long have you known?”
“Since the day you invited me to Vermont.”
He let out a low whistle. “Boy, you’d be a hell of a poker player!”
His phone chirped and he stared at the screen, then gave her a thumbs-up.
“Agent Dillon…yes, thank you for calling back…no, there’s no problem with the purchase, I just have a couple of questions about the transaction.”
Julia’s heart was in her throat and it was difficult listening to only one end of the conversation.
Dillon nodded, murmuring “uh-hms” every so often, and taking notes on a motel scratch pad. He sat up straighter and cleared his throat.
“Thank you, Mrs. Franklin. I really appreciate your help…yes, good luck with your plans.”
He closed the phone and smiled.
Julia nearly leaped off the chair. “Tell me!”
“Your horses are safe and sound, right where you left them. The new owners are going to open a riding camp for underprivileged kids, and they purchased the horses too.”
Julia could no longer hold back and she burst into tears, sobs wracking her body and cleansing her weary brain. Dillon kneeled beside her and rubbed her arm, saying nothing, but his presence soothed her quickly. When her last hiccup had subsided, he squeezed her arm.
“The Franklins did sell Coquette and one other mare to Cooper Carter. They thought the horses were too good to be used as schooling horses. So the only thing left is to start tracking Coquette.” He gazed into Julia’s eyes. “We’ll find her, I promise.”
Casey was propped up in the bed, her casted arm resting on a pillow at her side. Her purple face crinkled into a smile as Julia stepped into the room.
“You come to get me outta here?”
Julia chuckled. “Couldn’t you stay and recuperate just a little bit longer? How do you feel today?”
“Bored out of my skull. What’s going on at the farm? Bill tried to tell me it’s under control, but I know him—he’s just a know-it-all. Thinks because he was a Marine—” She looked embarrassed and grinned. “Never mind. I’m just goin’ crazy being out of commission.”
Casey’s comment about Bill wasn’t lost on Julia. Though Casey tried to act brusque and indifferent, her eyes always gave away what was really on her mind. And Bill seemed to be in tune with everything that went on at the farm, which meant he spent a lot more time there than Julia knew about.
She smiled. “Well, I can truthfully say your volunteers have done a wonderful job of caring for the horses and barn. They’ve covered from pre-dawn until well after seven at night. We had one call from a veterinarian. A colic-surgery horse was abandoned at his facility. The owners never paid for the operation, then simply disappeared from the area. He’s going to keep the horse at the clinic until we can come get it.”
Casey shook her head. “I really need to come home. Other than being a one-armed old woman with a headache, I’m fine. I could at least handle phone calls and catch up on the paperwork.”
“Has the doctor talked about discharging you?”
“She said maybe tomorrow, as long as my vital signs stay normal.”
Julia touched Casey’s hand. “Good. I’ll plan on it. We’ve missed you.”
Fifteen minutes later, she pushed through the heavy glass doors and onto the sidewalk at the hospital entrance. A car honked and she turned toward the sound as a red compact car pulled out of a parking spot and swung around the loop to stop in front of her. Dillon leaned across the seat and opened the door.
She climbed in. “Don’t you get tired of driving rental cars?”
“Yeah
, but since I don’t have a place to live around here, it doesn’t make much sense to have a car to park, does it?”
That one sentence painfully reminded her that Dillon was not tied to anything, or anyone. How strange that her own limbo had come to an end, only to connect to someone who was still adrift.
“Ginger?”
She turned quickly and smiled. “Lots on my mind. Casey might come home tomorrow.”
Dillon eased the car away from the curb, then cleared his throat tentatively. “You still planning to find another apartment? I mean, now that the thing with Stephen is out in the open.”
“I hadn’t thought about it again…why do you ask?”
“Well, uh…no reason, really. It just seems logical you’d want your own place, some privacy…you know.”
She gazed at him, delight creeping into her heart. Give him a face to punch or a bad guy to shoot, and Hector Dillon was invincible. Trot out a personal issue, and he was stepping all over his own feet.
She smiled. “I’ll start thinking about that.”
The following morning, Julia’s phone rang as she was pouring a cup of coffee. Dillon’s voice sounded relaxed.
“What time you get off work today?”
“It’s Saturday.”
“Oh, right.” He chuckled. “Living on the road, I never know what day it is. So, what are you doing today?”
“Giving a couple of volunteers some time off. I’m hoping to hear from Casey later this morning about when she’ll be discharged. Are you working today?”
“No, the truck is at headquarters for maintenance. I thought I might come out to the farm and see if I could be of use.”