by Joanna Wayne
“What time do you plan on leaving for the airport?”
“As soon as you’re ready. The boys and I are packed.”
“I have to talk to Jenny and Mandy and prepare them for this. Your brother and his wife may be wonderful people, but they’re strangers to the girls.”
“I already told them about the vacation, and now Danny and Davy are telling them how much fun they’re going to have. All four are rarin’ to go.”
Just like that. She wanted this. Wanted the girls safe and wanted the chance to find out why Jonathan had been murdered. Wanted to prove her innocence and give the girls a real life.
She wanted it, and yet she had a terrifying feeling, almost a premonition, that going back to Houston would be the biggest mistake of her error-prone life.
Chapter Eleven
They hadn’t flown out of Missoula International Airport as Chrysie had expected but had boarded a small noncommercial jet at a private airport a little more than an hour from Aohkii. The ride was bumpy, though no one seemed to notice but her. She fought to keep down the toast and coffee she’d had for breakfast while Josh and the kids munched on fruit, cookies and soft drinks from the plane’s food cooler.
Josh stopped and joked with the kids as he walked back from the front of the plane, where he’d been chatting with the middle-aged pilot and a copilot who looked almost old enough to shave.
He moved the small pillow from his seat and sat down beside Chrysie. “We’ll be landing in about ten minutes.”
“In a real airport?”
“It’s real but not large enough to handle anything but private and cargo planes.”
“But it is in New Orleans?”
“It is. Rachel and Logan are meeting us there.”
“This seems somewhat surreal.”
“Meeting my brother and sister-in-law?”
“No, my life. Flying around in a chartered jet. Running from killers on a snowmobile. Returning to Houston but afraid to be seen in public or even to go to my house.”
Josh reached over and took her hand. “The surreal part has been the past three years. Now we’re going to set things right and put a stop to your running. And who knows? One of us may visit your house.”
“Tell me about Rachel,” she said, trying to concentrate on something besides problems.
“Rachel’s an attorney, but she takes on mostly pro bono cases now when she’s not volunteering her help with cleanup and rebuilding efforts following Katrina.”
“Did they lose their house to the hurricane?”
“No, their new house is on the lake, but they built it pretty much hurricane-proof. They only live on the top two levels.”
“Did she work for a law firm before the hurricane?”
“She was a corporate attorney with one of the most prestigious firms in town before they got married. One of the senior partners got caught with his pants down, and I do mean that literally. He was also found guilty of being an accessory to murder.”
“That sounds like quite a story.”
“It is. You should ask her to tell you all about it one day.”
“Hey, look, there’s a lake, and I can see sailboats on it,” Danny called from the window seat on the other side of the narrow aisle.
Chrysie raised the shade and peered out her window. The boats were in plain sight, which meant they were descending faster than she’d anticipated. “Is everyone buckled in?” she asked as she leaned over to check the girls, who were in the two seats right in front of her and Josh.
“I’m buckled,” Jenny answered.
“And so are the other three,” Josh assured her. “I checked before I sat down.”
They cleared Lake Pontchartrain, then bounced along the runway a few yards before settling down into a smooth taxiing speed.
“I see Aunt Rachel,” Danny yelled. He was peering out his window and waving like crazy.
“Keep the seat belts buckled until the plane comes to a full stop,” Josh reminded them.
Chrysie took a deep breath. She hadn’t left Jenny or Mandy with anyone except school personnel since she’d left Houston. Now she was about to turn them over to strangers who would fly away with them.
Suppose Rachel and Logan weren’t the wonderful people Josh claimed. What if they were mean to the children or didn’t watch them closely and let them get hurt? What if Mandy had nightmares? Would they know how to calm her? And Jenny’s fever rose so quickly when she got a case of tonsillitis. Rachel didn’t have children. What would she know about pediatric doses of medication?
But then, what kind of caretakers would the girls have if Chrysie went to jail for the rest of their childhood?
The plane stopped. The boys were out of their seat belts in a second. Josh stood and walked to the front of the plane. “Better make sure you have those electronic toys,” he said. Danny and Davy got down on the floor for a thorough check. Davy came up with a small cartridge. “I almost left my best game.”
Chrysie stretched to reach the small overhead compartment. “Don’t bother with the luggage,” Josh said. “We’re going on to Houston in this plane after it refuels, and I’ll get Logan to help me get the children’s luggage.”
Once the rolling stairs were in place, Josh opened the door and the boys pushed in front of him, hopping and jumping their way down the steps. Jenny followed behind Josh, then dropped back to stay close to Chrysie and Mandy.
The boys jumped from the bottom step and went tearing across the tarmac. A man who looked almost exactly like Josh lifted Danny and swung him around while a very attractive woman captured Davy in a bear hug. A second later the order was reversed, and all the while the boys were whooping it up as if it were the rodeo, Christmas and the Fourth of July all rolled in together.
This time the girls did not catch their excitement. Mandy kept a tight grip on Chrysie’s hand, and Jenny clutched a handful of loose fabric on the leg of Chrysie’s trousers.
The woman left the boys, who were bouncing around Logan and Josh, and headed Chrysie’s way. She looked like a model in her tailored blue cashmere sweater and a pair of stylish gray trousers that showed off her long legs and shapely hips. Not a hair of her auburn bob was out of place.
She smiled and extended a perfectly manicured hand. “Rachel McCain, and you must be Chrysie.”
“Yes, and this is Mandy and Jenny.”
Rachel stooped and put herself at eye level with the girls. “I’m very pleased to meet you. I’m Davy and Danny’s aunt Rachel.”
“Do you make them eat all their peas?” Jenny asked.
“I’m afraid not. I don’t like peas much myself. Danny likes broccoli, though, and Davy likes green beans, so I make sure to keep lots of those around. What do you like to eat?”
“I like peas,” Mandy said, “and pancakes.”
“Mmm. Pancakes. That’s one my favorite breakfasts. What about you, Jenny?”
“I like ice cream.”
“Me, too. I love strawberry.”
“I like vanilla,” Jenny said, finally letting go of Chrysie’s trousers.
“I hope you like the beach,” Rachel said. “That’s where we’re going on our vacation while your Mommy and Josh do some work.”
“I wish my mom could come with us,” Jenny said.
Chrysie laid a hand on Jenny’s shoulder. “Next time, sweetie. Next vacation I’ll be there with you.” Unless she was in prison—or… No, she could not go there, could not let herself think she might not be reunited with the girls soon.
Mandy reached over and tugged on Rachel’s hand to get her full attention. “What’s a beach?”
“A beach is a marvelous place with lots of soft sand for digging and building castles and warm blue water for wading in.”
Mandy clapped her hands, and Jenny managed a shy smile.
The woman was good with children. Chrysie should be grateful for that, and she was, but still she had that sinking feeling as if she were about to lose more than a few days with the girls.
> Josh called to the girls to come and meet Logan. Mandy ran to him at once. Jenny looked to Chrysie first. “Don’t leave yet, Mommy.”
Chrysie swallowed past a huge lump. “No, sweetie. I won’t leave yet.”
“I can’t even imagine how difficult this must be for you,” Rachel said once the girls were out of hearing distance.
“I’ve never left them with strangers, not since their father was murdered.”
“Josh told us a little of your situation. You must have been terrified yesterday when those men showed up at the ranch.”
“I was. I still am.”
“What’s the news on Cougar this morning?” Rachel asked.
“He’s still listed as critical, but the doctor says there’s some improvement. They’re hopeful for a full recovery.”
“Good. I’ve only met him once, but he seemed like a really nice guy.”
Chrysie only nodded. If they started talking about the danger and the murderous monsters, she’d never be able to leave the girls.
“We’ll take good care of them,” Rachel said as if reading her mind. “I won’t let them out of my sight. And it won’t just be me watching them. Logan’s hired two bodyguards, retired Secret Service men. They’re the best in the business and great at staying inconspicuous, so the children won’t feel threatened by them.”
“Where are you going?”
“To one of the McCain properties in the Cayman Islands. It’s a small hotel, but one that caters to the very rich and to entertainers who like complete privacy. Logan chose it for its security.”
“I appreciate this—more than you know.”
“Logan would do anything for Josh and vice versa. They lost contact for years, but now they’re as close as brothers can get. Besides, we’re thrilled to spend time with Danny and Davy and we can both use a vacation.”
Chrysie reached into the side pocket of her handbag and pulled out a small black notebook. “I made a list of things you might need to know about each of the girls. And I packed their vitamins and medications with directions, just in case they get sick. Neither of them has any allergies.”
Rachel took the notebook and slipped it into her pocket. “Thanks. I’ll look over all the notes on the flight. If I have any questions, I’ll call you, and you can and check on Jenny and Mandy any time you like.”
Rachel linked her arm with Chrysie’s as they went to join the others. The four adults talked for a few minutes before Josh and Logan went back to the plane for the children’s luggage. Minutes later it was time to say goodbye.
Chrysie’s heart had never felt heavier, but she put on a good show for the girls’ sakes, smiling and talking of how much fun they’d have. She gave them one last kiss and hug as they boarded the plane for the Cayman Islands, a small luxury jet with McCain Industries emblazoned on the side.
Josh put his arm around Chrysie’s shoulders as the McCain jet taxied down the tarmac toward eventual takeoff. “They’ll be safe,” he said. “And so will you. Now let’s get this show on the road. We’ve got a murder case to solve.”
There was no doubt in his voice, no quiver of weakness or tremor of fear. That, as much as anything, helped her think positively as she tried to prepare herself mentally for Houston and the problems she’d tried to run away from for the past three years.
JOSH DROVE ACROSS Houston in a rented car that he had waiting for them when they landed. The traffic was horrendous, typical for a Houston weekday afternoon but totally different from the roads anywhere around Aohkii.
Traffic was the least of Chrysie’s worries. Her emotions were on a new roller coaster. She dreaded dealing with the issues at hand, hated that they would be delving into the murder on a firsthand basis, knowing that danger could lurk behind every corner. Yet the familiarity of the skyline, the myriad Mexican restaurants, even the humidity seemed welcoming. This was home, and she’d missed it terribly, especially before she’d moved to Aohkii.
“We’ve gone one mile in the last twenty minutes,” Josh complained. “How did you ever stand this traffic?”
“It’s not always like this. There’s probably a wreck.”
“That’s because they have about a million too many cars on the freeway. Give me Montana any day.”
“I like the city.”
“What’s to like, unless you dig smog and people?”
“Museums, plays, shopping and concerts. And we have the Astros, the Rockets and the Texans. Anything you want, you can get in Houston.”
“Good, let’s start with records—Jonathan’s, to be exact. What financial records did he keep at home?”
“Financial records?”
“Bank statements, phone bills—cellular and landline—credit cards.”
The welcoming feeling vanished, leaving nothing but dread and the feeling that disaster was hovering over them like a Texas tornado. She forced her mind to travel back to the daily routine from her past.
“Jonathan paid the household bills at the office. I don’t recall his keeping any of those records or receipts at home. And anything business-related would have definitely been stored at the office. I know the police went through everything at our house and his office the day after the murder. I don’t know what they took.”
“Did you leave all the bill paying and budgeting to Jonathan?”
“Yes, all except the utilities, groceries and whatever clothes or incidentals we needed for me or the girls. I paid for those from my salary.”
“Did you ever see a copy of his pay stub?”
“Not that I remember, but I didn’t worry about things like that. I trusted him. I know that sounds ludicrous now in light of what I know about his being unfaithful, but still it’s true.”
“So we have to find a way to get into his office and see if we can locate those records.”
“You don’t mean break in?”
“That’s not my first choice.”
“His office is on the tenth floor of a building with excellent security. We can’t just walk in.”
“Nothing is so secure it can’t be breached by cops or professional criminals.”
“We don’t even know if the records still exist,” she said. “Luisa Pellot probably had Jonathan’s secretary throw everything away when she cleaned out his office, especially since I wasn’t around to claim them.”
A red pickup truck swerved in front of Josh just as he switched lanes to avoid getting dumped onto the I-10 East exit. A string of curse words rolled off Josh’s tongue. “Sorry. But the guy was an idiot.”
“You just don’t like city driving.”
“You got that right. Now back to business. I think you made a good point about the records being moved. I’m thinking I should check with Jonathan’s secretary before we take the risk of breaking into the office.”
“You can’t do that. Vanessa will call the cops the second you show up.”
“I am a cop, Chrysie. Got a gun, a badge. Hell, I even watch CSI occasionally. I can talk the talk as good as the next guy.”
“You’re a sheriff in Montana, not Texas.”
“I’ll flash my ID so fast that—what was her name again?
“Vanessa Templar.”
“So fast Vanessa Templar will never notice. I’ll tell her this is part of the continuing investigation.”
“And I guess I stay in the hotel while you’re questioning her, because I sure can’t show up at her house. Even with my hair color and style changed, I’m sure she’d recognize me.”
“That’s the other thing. We’re not actually renting a hotel room. We’re staying with a buddy of mine.”
“And he knows I’m wanted for murder?”
“Wanted for questioning in a murder. That’s a far different thing. And he doesn’t know officially.”
“What’s the difference in knowing and knowing officially?”
“If he knew officially, he’d have to turn you in or risk losing his job.”
Chrysie threw her hands up in the air, at least as far as s
he could throw them in the confines in the car. “This just keeps getting worse and worse. First you tell me you’re going to visit the woman who was having an affair with my husband. Then you tell me I’m staying with someone in law enforcement who knows but doesn’t know I’m a fugitive from justice.”
“Take it easy. Grecco and I were roomies in college before I flunked out. He’s fine with this.”
“Grecco? He sounds like some sort of heavy.”
“This is no time for prejudice, sweetheart. Grecco is personable and he’ll take good care of you. Besides, he’s the one who found out that your late husband was not quite the law-abiding attorney you thought.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It seems that your husband was under suspicion of selling Mexican babies on the black market after smuggling the pregnant illegal aliens and the rest of their families across the border.”
Selling babies. The idea of it made her sick. The thought that Jonathan might have been involved in something so abhorrent was unfathomable. “When was he suspected of that?”
“Around three years ago, just before he joined up with Luisa Pellot.”
Back when he’d fretted constantly that he couldn’t get his career off the ground. “Where did you hear this?”
“From Grecco. He was with Border Patrol back then.”
“And now?”
“Now’s he’s with Homeland Security but working on securing our borders.”
“When did Grecco tell you this?”
“Yesterday, right before I tried to call Cougar and got no answer. You can see how it slipped my mind.”
Acid pooled in her stomach. She didn’t want to believe this about Jonathan. She shouldn’t even be talking about it when he was no longer alive to defend himself.
Yet he’d given someone reason to kill him. She hated these doubts, but an icy dread was seeping into her bones, and her gut feeling was that there would be no good discoveries about Jonathan from here on out. Was it possible she could have lived with him for five years and known so little about him?
Yet here she was, trusting a man she barely knew with her life and his brother and sister-in-law, whom she didn’t know at all, with her girls.