by Becki Willis
“How were we to know there was a big rodeo in town?” He pulled in next to a truck and horse trailer. “Looks like some of the rodeo people might be staying here. And it looks nice enough.”
“In 1982,” she mumbled.
“So it’s not quite up to your standards. It’s not one of your franchises with their fancy hot tubs and mints on the pillows. It looks like a nice little mom and pop operation, the backbone of America,” he chided.
“But it’s a kitchenette,” she whined.
“And if it was on the fourth floor with an elevator, you would call it a suite. Same difference, easier access. You said it had good reviews on that travel site you were looking at.”
“Just go get the key. I’ll wait here and see if any cock roaches pass by.”
Kenzie was still grumbling as Travis unlocked the door to the motel room. Though not fancy, the room was newly remodeled and looked and smelled fresh and clean.
“See, it’s not so bad,” Travis said, carrying in an armload of luggage.
“Maybe.” She said the word cautiously, slowly unwrinkling her nose as she surveyed the kitchen, sofa, and king-sized bed, all in one large room. “There’s only one bed,” she noted.
“All they had.”
She wandered into the adjoining bathroom, refusing to be impressed with the spacious counter top and tiled shower. No radiant flooring, but it would do.
Travis was already seated at the kitchen table and pulling the printed papers from the box. He tossed aside the enclosed business card with the librarian’s hand written phone number, but not before Kenzie saw it and offered a gloating grin.
Focusing on the problem at hand, she leaned over his arm to better see the papers he held. “What is all that?”
He perused the first several sheets. “This looks like another contract. Probably a codicil to the one you already have. This one outlines the payment structure.” He read through it briefly. “You were right. This says the money will be paid up front, before the wind farms are even built. This particular document is for the government to purchase back some of the farms from NorthWind. At a hefty little profit, I might add.”
He found another contract and some computer logs. “I’m not sure what that is,” he murmured, “but this looks like approval for a government grant.”
“Awarded to NorthWind, I’m sure, before they even existed!”
He scanned the papers. “Looks that way.”
“So this is the proof. The evidence that professor told Makenna about. He didn’t think there was a paper trail, but this is it.”
“It appears to be,” Travis agreed. “We’ll have to double-check dates, but it looks like these are grants awarded to a company that hadn’t been built yet.”
“So this is what my mother was hiding? Proof that NorthWind was built by fraud?”
Travis was slow in answering. “I think there’s more,” he finally said.
“Why do you think that?”
“Because we didn’t find just the disk. We found those two lists. They tell me there’s something more out there, something we haven’t found yet.”
“But where? How will we find it?”
“We have to decode the clues. And my guess is the rest of the evidence is somewhere in New Hampshire.”
Kenzie rubbed her aching head. “To be honest, I never would have thought my mother was capable of weaving such an elaborate plan. This took quite a bit of planning.”
“Maybe your father helped her. But let’s think about this for a minute. Your mother, or possibly even your father, hid evidence they felt was important, most likely before they went on the run. But they only hid half of it, taking the other half with them. Maybe it was for blackmail, maybe it was paranoia, maybe it was to exonerate themselves.” She looked doubtful at his mention of exoneration, but remained silent while he talked out his theory. “As an extra pre-caution, they wrote all their clues in code, so that if the envelope fell into the wrong hands, no one would be the wiser. But your mother gave you the envelope when you left home, so obviously she wanted you to eventually find the truth.”
“What about the key? It doesn’t make sense. Makenna has a key, but how is she supposed to know what it fits?”
“I’m guessing there were clues; you just didn’t recognize them as such.”
A frown puckered Kenzie’s lips. “Okay, let’s say there were clues left with each daughter. We didn’t know the other existed, so does that mean we each have a set of the same clues? Or did they think we would somehow find each other and eventually put our leads together?”
He did not answer directly, his mind chasing down another thought. “That line about your mother maybe not being able to join you… That still has me puzzled.”
“The clues were left at some of the first stops along our pre-destined route. I assumed she hid them as we arrived at each, but maybe not. Maybe she went ahead to Red Rocks and Esterbrook and wrote the letter while we were separated.”
“Possibly. Or maybe it was another clue.” Travis pondered the idea for a moment, before releasing it on a deep breath. “The other question is why the mafia is suddenly so interested in finding your father again. He’s been underground for twenty-three years. They’ve had a line on your where-abouts for months, but have just recently started tailing you. Why are they suddenly so interested in you?”
Kenzie could not resist tossing her dark head and flashing a bold grin. “You mean aside from my charming personality and stunning good looks?”
Travis allowed his dark eyes to roam over her, his expression unreadable. With none of her playfulness, he said solemnly, “Aside from that.”
His warm gaze was doing strange things to her heart rate. Kenzie stared back at him with wide eyes. After a long moment, she blinked and struggled to come back into the conversation. “Um, what was the question?”
Travis gave a little chuckle and changed gears. “We need to look at the clues. Where are the new ones?”
Kenzie opened the manila envelope and sorted through its contents. She handed him the two smaller slips of paper first, the ones with nothing but numbers. He studied them for a long time, copying them into a spiral notebook where he kept notes.
“And the other one?”
She handed over the larger piece of paper and watched as he repeated the same process.
“How do we go about cracking the code, Travis?”
“Let me study them for a while. Sometimes I can see a pattern.”
Kenzie tried to do the same, looking back through the other papers. She finally pushed back from the table. “Obviously this is your specialty, not mine. I think I’ll change clothes and see if I have anything left in my wardrobe to wear tomorrow. I may have to go shopping.”
“Bet you’d just hate that, too,” he muttered without glancing up from the papers. Standing behind him, she stuck her tongue out at him and made a face. “I saw that,” he claimed.
“Did not!”
He merely chuckled and kept studying the numbers.
Kenzie opened her suitcase and started sifting through its contents. She made three piles: one for clothes that were ruined, one for clothes that could be repaired, one for items merely wadded up and wrinkled. The last pile was the smallest of all.
She found an extra trash bag in the kitchen and began filling it with the ruined items. No sense in carrying them home if they were beyond salvage. “Oh man, I liked that shirt!” she whined as she lifted the t-shirt from Gruene Hall, its words now shredded.
She was smoothing wrinkles from a salvageable lacy bra when her phone rang and she saw an unfamiliar number. The area code was the same as Craven’s. Thinking he was probably calling from his home phone, she stepped into the bathroom to take the call with a modicum of privacy.
“Hello?”
“Kenzie Reese. This is Harry Lawrence calling.” The energetic greeting caught her by surprise.
“S-Senator Lawrence. What a surprise.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. Even more s
urprising was that he would call so late in the evening, well after office hours in Washington, DC. Fear clutched at her heart. Had something happened to Craven? “Is-Is something wrong, sir?”
“No, no. And I apologize for calling so late. My days don’t always end at six o’clock.”
“I can certainly understand that.” So why are you calling?
“I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate your joining me in Colorado and taking up our cause. I think we can make a real difference for the good people in the Rocky Mountains.”
“I certainly hope so, sir. It’s terrible that they are still living under those conditions.”
If he sensed the censure in her words, he chose to overlook it. “Has Franks set up an appointment with you to photograph my interview?”
“Not with me, but he may have spoken with my editor.”
“We’re scheduled for Tuesday morning. You’ll be there, of course.” It was not a question.
“Rapids City or Washington?” She wasn’t sure if the magazine was going to him, or he was going to the magazine.
“We’re actually doing the interview in my home.”
“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, sir. I know you have homes in at least three states.”
The Senator chuckled, obviously enjoying stringing her along. “That I do, Miss Reese, that I do. But you did such a wonderful job on that piece in New Hampshire, I thought you might enjoy returning there. We’ll be doing the interview at my home in the Granite State.”
Kenzie was as pleased as she was surprised. She had always wanted to go to New England, but it was one of the few places her photography had not taken her. That had been one of the worst things about breaking her leg; she missed the chance to go to New Hampshire, sending Makenna in her stead. Now it appeared she would have another opportunity.
Pulling her thoughts together – and reminding herself that he thought she had been the one in New England last month- Kenzie realized he was still toying with her. “I distinctly recall you telling me you owned two homes in New Hampshire. One in the mountains, one on the coast.”
“Ah, you have a sharp mind for details. That’s what makes you a successful photojournalist, Miss Reese.”
“However, I would make a terrible interviewer, I’m afraid,” she admitted with saccharine sweetness. “I get far too aggravated when my questions are evaded.”
The Senator laughed outright, clearly delighted with her spirited reply. “Touché, Miss Reese, touché.” When his chuckle settled, he continued, “We’ll be meeting in my home in the White Mountains. Franks will contact you with all the details. Or Craven, perhaps.” His infinitesimal pause was deliberate. “It seemed the two of you were getting along quite nicely.”
She refused to take the bait. “Yes, I was quite impressed with all your staff members, Senator.”
“I will look forward to seeing you Tuesday, Miss Reese.”
“Likewise.”
Kenzie hung up the phone, her brow puckered in confusion. Looking down at the bra she still held in her hands, she started out the bathroom door and ran smack into a hard, muscled chest.
“Tr-Travis!” The phone flew from her hands, the bra tossing into her face as her arms caught askew between them. He grabbed for her waist to steady her.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” There was more accusation in his quiet tone than apology.
“You did-didn’t. Not really. You just surprised me.”
He looked down from his lofty height, his eyes first on the generous cup size of the lacy creation, then on the flame in her cheeks. “I thought I heard you talking.”
Kenzie realized he knew good and well she had been on the phone. She suspected he also thought she had been talking to Craven. Lifting her chin, she decided to make him ask what he wanted to know. “You probably did.”
“Problems?”
“Not at all.”
“I saw you step into the bathroom to take the call.”
“I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“You weren’t.” A nerve worked along his tightened jaw. Inwardly, Kenzie’s heart did a high-five, relishing the flair of jealousy in his dark eyes.
He released her and bent to retrieve her phone, not hiding the fact that he was reading the screen. “Isn’t that a DC area code?” he asked as he handed her the device.
“Yes.”
“No wonder you wanted privacy.” His words were stiff as he turned away.
The sweet taste of victory turned suddenly sour. No longer wanting to play games, she stopped him with her words. “I just had the oddest phone call.”
“Mr. Sweetie Pie, I assume.”
“No. His boss.”
Travis turned back to her, all traces of jealousy now gone. The look on his face was one of guarded interest. “Senator Lawrence?”
“Yes. He wanted to thank me for my work on the Estes Park project.”
Travis gave her a rare and heartfelt compliment. “You’re an exceptional photographer, Kenzie. Your reputation is impeccable. I don’t know why you think that odd. He couldn’t have asked for better publicity.”
Pleasure unfurled in her heart, making her feel warm and delicious inside. “Thank you,” she said softly. “But it’s awfully late in DC to be making a business call.”
“I doubt he keeps normal business hours.”
“He said as much. But it was just how he thanked me.”
“He was harassing you?” Travis was immediately defensive. “I swear, if the man is some old pervert-”
Kenzie put her hand on his arm to assure him. “No, of course not. Nothing like that.” She moved a step closer. Of its own volition, her hand slid to his chest, settling there with an easy sense of familiarity. “There was nothing sexual about it, but it was almost like he was teasing me. He did the same thing when we met. For some reason, he enjoys sparring with me. It’s like he enjoys getting me riled.”
A smile played at the corners of Travis’s mouth and his eyes glittered with mischief. The sight was a rare treat. “It is sort of fun.”
She forgot all about the intriguing vision as she sputtered, “W-What! How rude! Why would you say that?”
His warm and wicked chuckle did strange things to her core. “Your eyes,” he murmured. “They flash like sparkling green jewels. No man should ever have to live his life without seeing that sight.”
It was the sweetest thing any man had ever said to her. Tears rimmed her eyes as swallowing became difficult, but she slapped at his chest with a grumbled accusation. “You are such a cheater! You don’t play fair, Ranger Merka. How can I be mad at you when you say something all sweet and mushy like that?”
He merely laughed and backed up, allowing her to proceed first. She went back to her suitcase and dropped the bra inside. “By the way, the Senator requests my presence in New Hampshire Tuesday morning.”
“New Hampshire?”
“Yes. He still has a home there – two, actually – and that’s where he wants to do the interview. Which is fine with me, since I’ve always wanted to go there.”
Travis rubbed a hand along his clean-shaven jaw.
“What are you thinking?” she asked. “I see the wheels turning in your mind.”
“Just wondering if we should fly or drive.”
“You-You’re going with me?”
He looked down at her with a searching gaze. “Unless there’s a reason you don’t want me to.” His words were low.
He was referring, of course, to Craven. Kenzie shook her head with certainty. “None at all.”
He tried to hide the pleasure on his face, but she glimpsed the softening lines around his taut mouth. “That gives us three days to figure out where in New Hampshire the other clues are hidden.”
“I’ve only got another hour or two in me tonight,” Kenzie admitted. “I’m exhausted.”
“Go on to bed if you like. I want to go over a few more things, then I’ll crash on the couch.”
“That thing’s n
ot big enough for me, much less for your long legs! This is a king bed. I’ll share.”
“The couch is fine.”
“Travis, don’t be ridiculous. We slept in the same bed last night; we can do the same tonight.” Her words were casual, but inside her heart was thumping wildly. I loved waking up with you beside me. Don’t make me beg.
He still looked uncertain. Actually, she thought, he looks petrified.
“I promise not to attack you.” Okay, so I’ll beg.
“Or snore?”
“I don’t snore!” she proclaimed, tossing the nearest pillow at him.
“Come on, tiger, let’s put in another hour, then I’ll plug my ears so I won’t have to listen to you not snore.”
Kenzie pretended to take offense, but her victorious smile told otherwise.
Chapter Fourteen
Kenzie set her internal clock to wake early, so she could enjoy the wonder of waking next to Travis. She had gone to bed first last night, but roused groggily when he crawled onto the bed atop the covers. Warm under a blanket, she had the comforter pushed to the foot of the bed. Travis curled it back and wrapped it over himself. But sometime is the darkness, his arm had come free and cocooned itself around Kenzie. She awoke snuggled against him, separated by layers of bedding.
She studied the sleeping man beside her. His handsome face was softer in sleep, yet still held an edge. Wariness, she decided. It was hard for him to let his guard down. Trust, nor love, came easily for this man.
Until she met the solemn Ranger, she thought the same about herself.
Kenzie memorized the tiny lines fanning away from his eyes. Too much squinting in the bright Texas sun, she thought. The top of his forehead was a few shades lighter than the tanned planes of his lean cheeks, the area shaded by the brim of his ever-present cowboy hat. There was a worry line embedded between his brows, evidence of a stressful job. The brackets around his sensuous mouth were softer, now that they were not pulled down in a scowl. She wanted to reach out and soothe the wrinkles away. She knew she was often the cause of his frown. The two of them were so different from one another, but her heart ached with yearning just watching him sleep. It was all she could do not to run her fingers through his blond hair.