by Paula Graves
She was also beginning to second-guess the decision to borrow the Pattersons’ RV, now that they were wary of stopping at any more RV parks. It was next to impossible to blend into traffic driving the massive vehicle. Their pursuers had probably connected the firebombing in Yuma to their escape already. How long before they had the license plate number for the RV and put out a phony all points bulletin?
“We need to switch license plates,” Abby said a little while later, after bringing up her concerns to Luke. “Except there’s no way I’m going to risk someone else’s life that way.”
“Ideally, we’d switch tags with the same make and model of RV, one that’s similar in color and not currently in use.” Luke slanted a lopsided grin at her. “Of course, ideally, I’d have a billion dollars and a red Ferrari.”
The sight of his grin made her heart turn an embarrassing little flip. She dragged her gaze back to the road. “Can’t help you with either of those. If my folks were still alive, though—” She stopped short as an idea popped into her head.
“What?” Luke prodded.
She grinned at him, feeling hopeful for the first time in days. “I know where we can find that license plate we need.”
Chapter Nine
The sign over the sales lot read Seymour Motor Homes of Texarkana. Sunset had passed, only a faint smear of blood orange on the horizon as a reminder of their long day. Luke looked over at Abby, who gazed at the sign with a hint of sadness in her tired blue eyes. “This was your folks’ place?”
She nodded. “Billy didn’t even change the name.”
“How long since you’ve seen the place?”
She turned into the lot and parked. “Ten years. I left when my parents died and haven’t been back since.”
“Are you sure Billy’s still here?”
“I got a letter on my birthday. He mentioned he was taking good care of the place.” Abby sounded different when she spoke of Billy Langston, the man she’d sold her parents’ RV dealership to after their death. As she’d neared her hometown, her East Texas accent, softened by time and distance, had found its edge again. “Go see if he’s still here. There might be people around who’d remember me.”
“Will he come back with me? Won’t he think it’s a trick?”
She smiled brightly. “Tell him Baby Abigail sent you.”
He grinned. Baby Abigail?
He stepped down from the motor home and out into the mild November night, glad to stretch his legs and breathe in something besides diesel fumes and the fragrant remains of their fast-food meals. Glancing back at the RV, he saw Abby had left the driver’s seat and disappeared from view.
He approached the dealership office in long strides, pasting a friendly smile on his tired face when a stocky man in his late fifties stepped out of the office to greet him before Luke reached the door.
“We’re closed for the evenin’,” the man said firmly in a wide Texas drawl.
“I’m looking for Billy Langston. Is he still here?”
The man’s expression grew wary. “I’m him.”
“Baby Abigail sent me. She’s waiting in the RV over there.” Luke motioned toward the Pattersons’ RV.
Langston’s dark eyes slanted toward the vehicle, his expression instantly suspicious. “Who the hell are you?”
“Her friend.”
Langston looked him over. “Do you have a name, friend?”
Luke glanced back at the RV, feeling exposed. “Did someone come here and tell you something about Abby?”
“Tell Baby Abigail to come out here where I can see her.”
The back of Luke’s neck prickled. “Is someone else here?”
“You think I’d tell you?”
Luke sighed. “I don’t know what you’ve been told—”
Billy brushed past him and walked toward the RV. “Abigail? You in there?”
“Mr. Langston—” Luke caught up with him. “We’re trying to keep a low profile, sir.”
Langston wheeled on him. “That’s what I hear.”
“What exactly do you hear?”
Langston frowned. “Abigail’s inside there? For true?”
“Yes.”
His gaze narrowed on Luke. “Why didn’t she come herself?”
“She didn’t know if you’d be here alone. There’s a reason she doesn’t want people to know where she is.”
“Because of the murder in Yuma?” Langston squared his shoulders. “What’ve you gotten the girl into, mister?”
“He’s helping me, Billy.”
Luke and Billy Langston both turned at the sound of Abby’s soft voice. She stood beside the RV, Stevie propped on one hip, gazing at Langston with a mixture of love, sadness and relief in her blue eyes.
“Hey, Billy,” she said, her lips curving into a grin.
“Baby Abigail.” Langston took a step toward her, his heart in his eyes. “Good Lord, girl, you grew up on me.”
She handed Stevie to Luke and held out her arms to Langston. “What’s it take around here for a girl to get a hug?”
Stevie squirmed in Luke’s arms, twisting around to look at his mother hugging a stranger. He started to cry. “Mama!”
“Shh, son, it’s okay. Mama’s just fine,” Luke crooned.
Langston released Abby. “Is this your boy?”
“That’s Stevie.” Abby smiled at her son. “He’s a pistol.”
“You had a baby and never told us?”
Abby’s face fell. “It was complicated. Matt had died only a little time before—”
Billy smiled. “He looks like you.”
Luke stroked Stevie’s back soothingly. “I hate to break up the reunion, but we’re pretty exposed—”
“Let’s get y’all into the office. There’s nobody else here. It’ll be safe.” Langston nodded his head for them to follow him back to the sales office. Luke tucked Stevie close and took up the rear, keeping an eye out in case Abby was wrong about trusting her father’s old friend. Someone had been here already, looking for them. It could be a trap.
But the sales office was empty, just as Langston said. He led them to a small room in the back and waved at the comfortable-looking sofa across from a battered oak desk. “Sit down. Y’all look like hell.”
“It’s been a stressful couple of days,” Abby admitted.
“Someone’s been here asking about us,” Luke told her. “Mr. Langston thinks I’ve done something to get you in trouble.”
“It’s not Luke,” Abby said quickly to Langston. “I’m the one who dragged Luke into this.”
She explained quickly about arriving home to her apartment to find it occupied by masked men looking for something her late husband had apparently taken.
“And you’ve got no idea what it was?” Langston asked.
“None.”
“Who came to see you?” Luke asked.
Langston shot a look at him. “Said they were FBI. Can’t say I’m quite as sure now they were telling the truth as I was when they flashed their badges at me.”
“What did they say?”
“Seems like you’re a suspect in a murder back in Arizona.” The look Langston shot him suggested he wasn’t entirely sure the accusation wasn’t true.
“Luke didn’t kill anyone,” Abby said. “Those men were after us, not the other way around.”
Luke’s phone rang, making Abby jump beside him. He handed Stevie over to her and dug in his pocket for the disposable phone. He didn’t recognize the number on the display.
“Yeah?” he answered carefully.
“Luke, it’s me.” It was Sam. Luke relaxed. “I bought a new phone. I think you might want to do that as well, next chance you get.”
“Has something new happened?”
“Just an APB out of Yuma, Arizona, looking for you in connection to a murder at a motel there.”
“Yeah, we heard about that already.”
Sam’s wry tone changed immediately. “How? Did someone try to pick you up?”
&nbs
p; “Not yet. We ran into an old friend of Abby’s. Someone claiming to be FBI paid him a visit. I’m not sure it was really the Feds, though.”
“Your friends in black?”
“Or someone like them.”
“Right now, you’re just a person of interest because you left your car at the motel right in front of the room where the murder took place. Kristen had her partner, Jason, ask for more information on the murder. She’s going to see how much they’re really working with so we’ll know better what to do next.”
Luke’s heart sank as the reality of his dilemma sunk in. “I can’t come home. They’ll be looking for me there.”
“You can’t stay out there on the road, either, Luke. But I think you need to ditch the RV as soon as you can. Someone finally got around to connecting you to the Pattersons, thanks to the firebombing of their home. The APB lists the Pattersons’ RV as a possible vehicle of interest.”
Luke’s stomach dropped. No matter how many times they zigzagged, the bad guys stayed right behind them. Or, hell, maybe in front of them by now. No telling at this point. He hid his growing despair. “Okay, we’ll figure out something.”
“Just get to Alabama. Call me when you cross the state line and we’ll go from there.” Sam rang off.
“What is it?” Abby’s eyes gleamed with anxiety.
“We’ve got to ditch the RV. It’s included on the APB.”
Abby’s lower lip started to tremble. She caught it between her teeth and lifted her chin, her eyes darting around as if she could somehow find the answer to their latest disaster of a problem somewhere in the RV sales office.
Her gaze settled on Billy Langston. “Did you sell your car dealership or give it to Ross?”
Langston seemed taken aback by the laser focus of her gaze. “I still own it. I split my time between the dealerships.”
Abby’s expression cleared, and she actually broke into a big smile of relief. “Great! Can we borrow an SUV?”
ABBY HADN’T REALIZED just how much she’d missed Texas until she walked into the Langstons’ kitchen and saw Wanda Langston standing in front of their ancient gas stove, stirring a big pot of turnip greens and whistling an old Dolly Parton tune. She turned at the sound of Billy’s boots clomping on the floor as he stepped inside behind Abby, Stevie and Luke. Her eyes widened and her weathered face split with an enormous grin.
“Abigail!” She crossed to Abby, her arms outstretched.
Abby flung herself into the woman’s arms, overwhelmed by the familiar scent of White Linen and cooking greens.
Except for a few more gray hairs sprinkled through her close-cropped auburn curls and a few more smile lines, Wanda hadn’t changed a bit in the past ten years. She was short and compact, muscular from working in her garden and tending to the chickens and pigs she raised for extra income. Her hands were rough in texture but gentle as a mother’s touch as she cradled Abby’s face to get a better look. “Good God, girl, you’re too thin. Don’t they feed you out in California?”
Abby blinked back tears and grinned. “Not as well as you do!” She gave Wanda another hug. “It’s so good to see you.”
Wanda looked at Billy. “Couldn’t call ahead, old man?”
Billy grinned back at her. “I wanted to surprise you.”
Wanda made a face at her husband, then looked at Luke, who stood to the side, holding Stevie on one hip. Wanda’s smile faded a little. “You must be the fellow who’s put our Abigail crossways with the law.”
Luke’s eyebrows notched upward. “Looks that way.”
Wanda gave him a long, considering look. “Well, you’d better be worth the headache.”
“I’m the one who put him crossways with the law, Wanda.” Abby caught Wanda’s hands. “Luke was in the Marines with Matt.”
Wanda’s eyes narrowed at her mention of Matt’s name. Most people had liked Matt as soon as they met him. He’d been that kind of guy, charming, funny and impossible to resist in a lot of ways. But Wanda had never warmed to him the handful of times she had visited Abby in California. Abby had always figured it was because Wanda blamed Matt for keeping Abby out West after her college days were done. She knew Wanda had thought Abby would head back home to Texas after school. When it didn’t happen, Matt had been as good a scapegoat as any.
Although, knowing Wanda’s keen insight into people, maybe she’d seen what even Abby hadn’t seen until much later—the liar and cheater hidden beneath Matt’s pleasing exterior.
Abby crossed and took Stevie from Luke’s arms. Luke gave her an odd look, as if he were seeing her for the first time. Maybe he was, in a way. When her parents died, she’d let the move to California for school create an almost complete break from her old life. It had been the only way she could survive the crushing grief that had driven her away in the first place.
The separation had changed her, not always for the better. She’d learned to compromise, to settle for less than what she really wanted, because she knew that life wasn’t fair. But sometimes she’d settled for far too little, hadn’t she? She’d let Matt get away with lies and betrayals that she should never have accepted. Maybe if she’d stood her ground with him more in the past, she wouldn’t be in the mess she was in now.
But as her mother used to say, that was dirty water under a rickety bridge. She had to deal with the here and now. And standing here in Wanda Langston’s kitchen, surrounded by the people she loved most in the whole world, she felt like a whole new woman. In this place, she was no longer the woman Luke had known for almost a decade.
She was Abigail Jane Seymour, from Texarkana, and she was a force to be reckoned with.
She crossed back to Wanda, her drowsy son clinging to her side. “Wanda, this is my son, Stevie.”
Wanda’s eyes widened with surprise and no small amount of hurt, and Abby felt a rush of guilt for having stayed distant from Wanda and Billy for so long. “Good lord, Billy, did you hear that? Our Baby Abigail has a baby of her own.”
“Hard to believe, ain’t it?” Billy grinned. “I remember when you weren’t any bigger than a pea pod, walkin’ around here like you owned the whole world, and here you are a mama now.”
“Now you’re going to make me cry,” Abby said with a watery chuckle. Stevie twisted in his arms to look up at her as if she’d grown an extra head. Had it really been that long since he’d heard her laugh?
“Are you staying here or are you just passin’ through?” Wanda hurried back to the pot on the stove, which was threatening to boil over. “’Cause we’ve got plenty of room for the whole lot of you. Plenty to eat, too.”
“We can’t stay more than tonight,” Luke said quietly. When everyone turned to look at him, he held his ground, though Abby thought he might have turned a shade redder at the sudden onslaught of scrutiny.
As Wanda opened her mouth to protest, Abby quickly backed Luke up. “It’s a long story, Wanda. Billy can catch you up on it. Right now, though, we’ll take you up on the offer of dinner and a place to stay. I’ve got to go change Stevie’s diaper.”
She made a quick escape into Wanda’s small bathroom, just down the hall to the left. Closing the door behind her, she took a couple of deep breaths to push away the tears burning her throat and shook her head back, squaring her shoulders.
“Mama?” Stevie’s voice was small and uncertain.
She stood him up on the counter, so that he was a head higher than she was. He looked down at her, catching her face between his small, grubby hands.
“It’s okay, mister. You believe Mama, don’t you?”
He just looked at her, his unusually solemn eyes reminding her of Luke’s ability to see right through her.
“Let’s get that wet diaper off, okay?” She picked him up again and swung him around to her back, where he clung like a monkey until she could fold a towel across the counter as a changing pad. She made quick work of the soiled diaper, remembering with wry annoyance that she’d planned to start Stevie on full-bore potty training this past weekend.
That would have to wait, obviously.
She opened the bathroom door and almost ran into Luke, who stood on the other side, his hand raised to knock.
“Hey,” he said, dropping his hand to his side.
“All done,” she said with a smile. “I hope Wanda’s got those turnip greens about ready, because I’m starving.”
“You have an accent,” he murmured, his gray eyes hooded.
“You can take a girl out of East Texas—”
“You didn’t have it in California. Not like this, anyway.”
She grinned up at him. “Well, your own accent is coming out to play a bit, too.”
His lips curved slowly. “You’re a bad influence.”
“Or a good one,” she countered, feeling wildly confident all of a sudden. Maybe it was as simple as being back home in Texarkana, where everything was familiar and real.
It had been a long time since she’d felt this way.
Luke’s eyes narrowed even more. “Wanda said to meet her in Ross’s old room and she’d help you get set up for the night.” He stepped back to let her through the door.
She slid past him, not trying too hard to keep from brushing up against him as she passed. His soft intake of breath made her smile.
She’d gone a couple of steps down the hallway when Luke spoke behind her. “Nice homecoming picture, by the way.”
She turned to look at him. “Wanda kept that picture, huh?”
“Seems she had hopes you’d come back home to Ross eventually. He’s still not married, you know.”
Was that jealousy glittering in Luke’s gray eyes? “Wanda talks too much.”
“It’ll be hard for her to say goodbye to you again.”
Abby hugged Stevie closer. “It’ll be hard for me, too.”
Luke walked down the hall toward her, his movements slow and deliberate. He cupped her cheek, his thumb moving lightly over her chin. “When this is all over, you should consider moving back here to Texas instead of staying in San Diego.”
“Not as much linguistics work around here,” she pointed out, her voice shaky because the idea was much more tempting than she’d expected.