Numbers Never Lie (Crimson Romance)

by Shelley K. Wall

  An hour later, he was still sitting in the other room, watching her through the glass. He would have been amused if he didn’t really care what happened next. She was sitting with her back to the window — to him — facing the other wall. Nothing could be mistaken about the intention in that. He knew she was crying because she put her hand to her face a couple of times like she was wiping her eyes. Everyone else had grown bored and left, thankfully. He didn’t need more witnesses as he talked with her. Still, even as mad as she was, he wanted her to let him touch her. He couldn’t help it.

  He stepped in the door, closing it quietly, and waited for her to face him. When she didn’t, he sat at the table. He rested one hand on the table and the other in his lap, watching the back of her head. The curls were pretty much a disaster from the stress of the day but they still framed her head nicely.

  “So, Trevan Prater of Prater Ranch,” Sophie said matter of factly, her back still to him.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you always go to this extreme to close a case?” Her voice cracked a little at the end. He wondered if she was still crying, but she wouldn’t turn around and look at him.

  “No. Come on, Soph, surely you know what was real and what wasn’t?”

  “Do I?” she hissed. “How would I know that? Nothing you’ve said, nothing you’ve done is true.”

  “Yes, some of it was. Actually, a lot of it was.” Her words cut into him like razor blades.

  “You said you were a good guy. You swore it.” She hiccupped now and he knew for sure she was crying. He couldn’t stand it anymore. The chair scraped loudly on the floor as he pushed it back and moved around the table to face her.

  “I was a good guy. I still am.” He knelt in front of her. Her face was red and blotchy. Mascara colored tears ran down her cheeks. He sucked at this part; he couldn’t handle crying. “Look at me.” He willed her to raise her eyes to his.

  When she refused, he put his hands on her arms and shook her gently. “Henry, look at me.”

  “No.” Her bottom lip was quivering. “Why would you play me like that? Do you really have to go that far to solve a case?” Her voice came in short gasps. She’d cried so much she couldn’t really string a sentence together. “Because if that’s what you do as one of the good guys, then maybe you’re not as great a guy as you think you are. What a shitty way to make a living.”

  “I wasn’t playing you. I never was. I had to get you away from here to make sure that we had time to figure it out, and whoever was trying to hurt you wouldn’t be able to. I needed to keep you safe.”

  “Well, you really went the extra mile on that. You must be one of the best agents they have. I bet all the criminals want to have you chasing after them, screwing them.” She was being sarcastic now, and bitter.

  “Soph, you’re angry. I deserve it, but I didn’t use you to solve this case. I understand you feel that way, but — ”

  “Stop it! Stop psychoanalyzing me. You don’t understand me at all.” She fumed.

  “You’re right.”

  She glared at him. “You are the most disgusting man I have ever met. No one I’ve ever known would have stooped so low to get a project done.” She clenched her eyes shut to stifle the tears. “I was so stupid. I thought it was real for a few minutes there. You should be really proud of yourself. You’re really a great actor.”

  “I wasn’t acting; it was real.” He put his hand under her chin and stroked her throat. He was exhausted with all the emotional turmoil in this room. “Everything between you and me was real. It is real. You can pretend it isn’t if you want to, but I can’t. I know what I felt. What I feel now. And this is no act.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Tell that to someone who cares.” She jerked her head back from his hand.

  He stared into her face. “I thought I was,” he said quietly, admitting defeat.

  “Can I leave now, Agent Prater?”

  “No, I’m sorry, but you can’t.” He backed away to the other side of the table and sat again.

  “Why not?”

  “Because until we have this guy, or guys, in custody, I’m still stuck to you like glue.”

  “Well, you’re pretty good at that, but no thanks.”

  “You don’t get a choice in this, Sophie. This is a federal investigation. If we think one of our star witnesses is in danger, they are put under twenty-four-hour protection.”

  “So now I’m a witness, not a suspect?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Wow, that’s a relief,” she said sarcastically. “Do you also sleep with witnesses or is that only reserved for suspects you’re trying to expose?”

  Trevan clenched his jaw. “I’m a little more selective than that, whether you believe it or not. I’ll be back in a few minutes, then we’ll go.”

  “Where are you going to lock me up now?”

  “We’re going back to the ranch, until all the analysis is finished and it’s safe for you to come back.” He rose and walked out of the room, leaving her alone.

  • • •

  By mid-afternoon on Monday, Sophie and Trevan were once again hurtling east on Interstate 10 toward Fredericksburg. They’d stopped at her apartment, collected more clothes and her mail, and then got back on the road. Sophie sat still and silent in the passenger seat. The look on her face plainly told him to keep his mouth shut, so he had some nineties rock music blaring on his Sirius radio.

  The music was interrupted by a load brrring and she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Trevan hit the answer button on his hands-free phone. “Hey, Mom.”

  “Hello Trev, how’s your day going?”

  “Not too bad for a Monday. Everything going okay for you guys?”

  “Sure. Sure. Hey, we dropped by the old ranch house this morning and saw you’d been there.”

  Trev looked sideways at Sophie and rolled his eyes. She wasn’t going to like this, either. “Mom, you know you watched the house and you saw me there. I saw Dad on the back porch Saturday.”

  Sophie’s eyes darted to his face and he knew she was just getting more frustrated as he spoke. How was he supposed to tell her his dad was the old man with the telescope? He held up his hand to stop an imminent explosion.

  “Now, why would we watch the house?” the voice on the phone questioned sweetly.

  “Because you knew I was there and you were checking up on me, weren’t you?”

  The voice on the other side capitulated. “Okay, okay. Yes, we wanted to make sure you were okay.” There was a small pause, then: “Who’s the girl?”

  Trev laughed. They had gone from pretending they didn’t know to getting in his business in about two seconds.

  “Her name is Sophie and she’s sitting right here, Mom.” He sent a warm look at Sophie, only to get a scowl in return.

  “Oh, uh. Hi, Sophie, nice to talk to you,” she said pleasantly.

  “Nice to talk with you, too, Mrs. Prater.” He was glad she didn’t continue the silent treatment on the phone.

  “So, are you two still in town or headed back to Houston?”

  “We’re in between right now,” Trevan admitted, “but we’ll back at the ranch in a few hours. We’ll turn off the interstate in about fifteen minutes. We had to take care of some work stuff this morning.”

  “Good. Then come by for dinner at seven. Your dad’s barbecuing and we want to meet your girlfriend.”

  Trevan started to protest when Sophie shot him another deadly scowl but the phone on the other side went dead before he could say anything. He hated the way they did that when they thought he’d refuse. They made the demand, then gave him no chance to respond.

  “Your parents? Your parents live on the hill?” She raised an eyebrow at him, her voice getting a little too loud.

  “Yeah, I took the old ranch house when they built their new place up there. Their place is a lot nicer and has a fantastic view. Unfortunately, that view includes my backyard.” He looked at her with a sheepish half grin. “Sorry, I couldn�
�t tell you.”

  “Jeez, could this possibly get any worse? Are there going to be naked pictures of me posted on the Internet next?”

  Trev laughed out loud at that. “No, only half-naked ones. Just kidding. That won’t happen — not that I know of. But, that hero-worshipping thing you were trying to help with? Well, I think it worked.” He saw her try to hide a smile as she looked out the window. He thought for the first time since they’d interrogated her that maybe things would work out okay.

  The silence stretched between them for five minutes but it felt a lot longer. “Sophie, have you ever ridden a horse?”

  “Not since I was ten and that was just a pony tied to one of those leads. Why do you ask?” She looked at him, curious.

  “We usually take the horses between the two houses. There’s a real nice trail up the hill.” He waited for her to make some sort of wisecrack about cowboys and horses but she didn’t.

  “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

  “No problem.” He was glad. “You’ll ride with me.”

  “I didn’t see any horses when we were there.”

  “You weren’t looking.”

  “But I don’t really want to.”

  “You’ll go,” he stated flatly.

  • • •

  At six-thirty that evening, Trevor lifted Sophie onto his horse, Blackie, then pulled himself up behind her. Blackie was the biggest of their horses, a sturdy pulling horse, and would have no problem hauling the two of them up the hill. Sophie had argued with him about going. She had no desire to meet his parents. He insisted and she refused again. In the end, he gave her a choice, walk or ride. There was no staying behind.

  “You call him Blackie?” she asked nervously as she held onto the saddle horn. Trevan’s arms rested gently around her, holding the reins.

  “Yep. We also have a solid white horse called Whitey and we used to have a solid brown mare … guess what her name was?” He teased.

  “Let me guess, Brownie?”

  “Yeah, real original, huh? She died three years ago.”

  “So if you have a paint horse, are you going to call it Spot?”

  “As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what we did.” He grinned in her hair and she chuckled.

  They walked the horse down the hill away from the house and he felt the warmth of her back leaning against him, her hips moving gently with the equine’s gait.

  “Henry?” He tightened his arms around her as they started up the steep trail toward his parents’ place.

  “What, Trev?”

  “Do you hate me?”

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “Anything I can do to change that?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Okay then.” They rode in silence the remainder of the way up the trail. He watched her face as she looked back over her shoulder at the view. He could see she appreciated it almost as much as he did. Most people did. It was beautiful. The Texas Hill Country was one of the best kept secrets that he knew of. It was close to the big city attractions but had a slower, more comfortable pace. As they cleared the trees at the top of the trail, Sophie spoke.

  “Are you going to tell them why I’m here?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “From the conversation earlier, I got the impression they thought we were, I don’t know, involved.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes, of course it does. That’s lying.”

  “Is it?” He paused. So that’s it, then. “If it matters so much to you, tell them yourself.”

  His mother rushed toward them. He admired how she’d kept her hair long all these years. Her olive skin remained in good condition, despite the addition of numerous smile lines around her eyes and mouth. His favorite thing about his mom, though, was the way she could make anyone feel at home. Dad always said she’d never met a stranger, and it was true. When someone met Lisa Prater, she made them feel like she’d known them all their life. Both of his parents were highly intelligent and successful in their careers, but more importantly they were just good people.

  “Oh, I’m sooo glad you’re here.” she exclaimed as Trevan dismounted from Blackie. He lifted Sophie down next to him before tying the horse up to a post in the yard.

  “Yeah, me too, Mom.” His voice choked as she squeezed him tightly around the neck. He wrapped an arm around her in return. “This is Sophie.” He laid his hand affectionately on Sophie’s arm. She didn’t pull away. From his mother’s vice-grip hold, he motioned with his head. “Lisa Prater.”

  The door of the house flew open and his dad’s bulky dark frame hurried toward them. “She looks just as good with her clothes on,” he shouted in Spanish.

  “Dad!” Trevan blurted. His temperature rose a notch or two and he shifted his eyes to gauge her reaction. “Watch your mouth. She speaks fluent Spanish.” Sophie stiffened and shot Trevan an angry scowl.

  “Oh, sorry.” He looked at his feet as he held out his hand to introduce himself. “Hi. Robert Prater.”

  “Sophie Henderson. Good to meet you, sir. And sorry about that display.” Sophie didn’t look him in the eye.

  “You don’t need to be sorry.” Trevan couldn’t help showing his frustration. “He should mind his own business and stop being such a damn Peeping Tom.”

  “Well then.” Trevan’s mom changed the subject. “Now that we know everybody, no pun intended, let’s go inside.”

  Trevor noticed the buckskin horse leaning over the fence with its left foot lifted and resting on the right front hoof. “How’s old Goldie’s foot doing, Dad?”

  Sophie followed his gaze to the tan colored horse with golden haunches and giggled.

  Ah, there she is. He smiled with satisfaction.

  His dad cast a funny glance at Sophie before he answered. “She’s still favoring it a lot. Vet’s coming on Wednesday.”

  Trevan was glad he’d been able to elicit a positive response from Sophie. He knew the horse was going to be fine. He’d looked at the hoof a couple weeks earlier and could tell it was on its way to mending. If Goldie were a person, she’d certainly be a hypochondriac. They often laughed about how the smallest scratch or bump would cause her to limp for days. That’s why they rarely rode her anymore. She preferred to take it easy. Very easy. And since she was getting older, his dad didn’t seem to mind. She had been a work horse on a much larger ranch when she came to them. She had already done her time and deserved a rest. Trevan always thought her smarter than the other horses, but maybe more experienced would be the better descriptor. She’d figured out how to get out of the strenuous work.

  Inside, Sophie sat at the kitchen bar talking to his mom and he listened for a while before he realized he was kind of a third wheel. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and went out to stand by his dad in front of the grill. He could see in the kitchen easily from where he stood.

  “She’s pretty, son.”

  “Yeah,” Trevan admitted.

  “More than pretty, really.”

  “Yeah.” Trev didn’t say more. It wasn’t necessary.

  “How long have you known her?”

  “Not long.” Trevan didn’t want to go into the details. It was none of their business.

  “How long are you planning on knowing her?” This was his way of asking intentions.

  “As long as she’ll let me,” he answered with a shrug, “probably longer than she’d like me to.”

  A loud burst of laughter came from the kitchen and he watched Sophie shoot a glance at him. His mom had tears in her eyes from whatever they were talking about. He assumed he was the butt of their joke. His mom loved to tell stories about him just to embarrass him. Normally, she’d wait till he was there to fully enjoy the humiliation.

  A warm shiver ran through his shoulders as he watched them. It was good to see Sophie relaxing after all she’d dealt with today. It was also good to see Mom had taken such a liking to her.

  An hour and a half later, Trevan lifted Sophie onto Blackie a
nd once again slid up behind her on the horse. The sun was going down behind the trees. They’d need to hurry to get back down the hill before it was pitch dark. The horse could get them there regardless, but he didn’t want to take a chance meeting up with a stray coyote, skunk, or bobcat. The hills had a lot of wildlife that came out mostly at night. His parents had hugged both of them before they left and told them to come back when they had time. He didn’t tell them how long they were staying and he was glad they didn’t ask. He also didn’t tell them that Sophie probably wouldn’t be with him next time. The trail down was a little more comfortable than going up because Sophie had to lean back against him to balance and he was glad for that, even though she didn’t talk until they were almost to the house.

  “Your parents are nice,” she said quietly.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “They’re pretty proud of you.”

  “Where’d you get that from?”

  “Just the way they talk about you, and to you.” He heard her sigh and leaned down to see her face in the shadows. She had an odd expression. One he hadn’t seen before.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I guess I just miss my mom a little. I’d forgotten how nice it was to talk to her.”

  A twinge of sympathy hit him and he squeezed her gently, hugging her between his arms. Her hair was coming out of the knot on her neck and blowing against his face, tickling him. Two days ago, he would have smoothed it back and kissed her. Probably not a good idea right now. It pissed him off that he wanted to.

  “Still hate me?” he asked, for no particular reason.

  She hesitated a little then answered, “Yeah, pretty much.”

  He waited a second, then spoke softly in her ear. “You hesitated.” When they reached the house, he lifted her off Blackie. “I’m gonna brush the horse down and put him the barn. Go on in. I’ll be back in a while.” He turned the horse and left.

  When he returned, he started the wood in the fire pit, got four beers out of the fridge and walked down to the pool. He stripped and dove in, swimming the full length of the pool underwater before coming up. It was almost pitch dark now so no need to worry about witnesses. He swam to the other end quickly, his hands and arms gliding through the water. Two minutes later, he plopped with a towel around his waist in one of the chairs around the fire pit. His second beer was almost gone when Sophie opened the door of the girls’ room and came outside. He downed the remaining beer and twisted the cap on the third.