identity. A small arrow of regret pierced through him. There would be
no warmth or flirtation today. It was obvious she considered him and
his presence a necessary evil. So be it.
He stared out the window at the passing scenery, trying to ignore
Cody's chatter as the little boy filled up the silence that stretched
between the two adults. He didn't want to be sucked any deeper into
Cody's need for a father or Abby's desire for a soul mate. All he
wanted was to find a killer, then get back to his own life in
Chicago.
"Don't ya think, Luke?"
Cody's voice pulled him from his inward thoughts. "What? I'm sorry, I
didn't hear you."
"Don't ya think we should have a party at the ranch on the Fourth of
July?"
"Cody, I'm sure Luke won't be at the ranch by then," Abby answered.
Cody turned bright blue eyes on Luke. "Where will you be? Why won't
you be here?"
"I'll be in Chicago," Luke answered. "That's where I live."
Cody stared at him in disbelief, then shook his head in confusion.
"That's silly. You're a cowboy and cowboys don't live in Chicago."
"Maybe I'm just one of those pretend cowboys you told me about," Luke
replied.
Again Cody looked at him, studying him with concentration. "Nope,
you're a real cowboy. I wouldn't give my good luck hickory nut to a
pretend cowboy."
Luke noticed the way Abby's lips were tightly compressed, as if she
were having difficulty biting back choice comments. He was surprised
to realize he appreciated her reticence. Although he had no intention
of being a part of Cody's life, oddly enough he didn't want the young
boy thinking badly of him.
Minutes later. they pulled up in front of Cody's friend's home. "Tell
Mary Ann I said thanks and we'll be back to get you around noon," Abby
reminded her son as he ran toward the front door of the attractive
ranch house.
"Okay," he agreed. He was met at the door by a tall brunette who waved
to Abby as Cody raced through her front door.
"I won't have him hurt," Abby said softly as she pulled away from the
curb.
"You've obviously worked me into some sort of monster in your mind if
you think I would consciously hurt a little kid," Luke observed
dryly.
"I just want you to be conscious of the fact that for some
incomprehensible reason Cody thinks you're great. The fact that he
gave you his hickory nut means he's chosen you as a special person in
his life."
"There was a time not so long ago that I had the feeling you thought I
was rather great." He wasn't sure why he was baiting her. Perhaps to
shatter her aloofness. He would prefer anger to the cool indifference
she'd shown him since they'd gotten into the truck.
"That was before I discovered you were a liar. And as far as I'm
concerned liars are right down there with crooks and swindlers."
A stain of color flushed her cheeks and Luke felt a flash of desire hit
him in the midsection as he remembered the heat of her kisses, the
satin softness of her skin. "The next time we make love I'll remind
you of my real name before, during and after."
If not for his seat belt, his head would have crashed through the front
window as she jammed on the brakes and squealed to a stop. She turned
in her seat. and faced him, her eyes flashing anger. "Trust me on
this, Luke. I don't intend for there to be a next time. I've had both
the Foxwood men and I've found them both lacking in one very important
area."
"I've never had any complaints before," he protested.
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Oh, stop being so ... so ...
male. I'm not taking about your prowess. I'm talking about the fact
that you lack honor."
"I did a dishonorable thing, but I'm not a dishonorable man," Luke
countered.
She sighed in obvious aggravation, then jumped as a car behind them
honked. "You're holding up traffic," Luke said.
She slammed the truck into gear and took off once again. "All I know
is I've had it with Foxwood men, and I'll never, ever sleep with you
again."
"Ah, you tempt Fate when you make absolutes. Hasn't anyone ever told
you before never to say never?"
"Never say never unless you mean it, and I mean it," she replied.
Luke smiled, amused by her vehemence. Intellectually, he was certain
she meant what she said, but she couldn't hide the pulse pounding in
the hollow of her neck, or the desire that masked itself within her
anger.
He had a feeling she wanted him again, and that suited him just fine
because he wanted her, too. He leaned back in the seat and smiled to
himself. Before he left the ranch to return to Chicago he intended to
have Abby one last time.
HIS SMILE IRKED Abby to distraction, just as his familiar scent had
from the moment he'd climbed into the truck. Damn him for making her
remember the pleasure of lovemaking, the sweet surrender that made the
world stop spinning and time stand still. Damn him for bringing back
the memory of what it felt like to be in love.
Of course she wasn't in love with Luke, but still in those moments when
he'd held her so close, whispered her name in a lover language, she'd
given him a piece of herself she knew she'd never get back.
She shoved these thoughts aside, needing to focus on their business,
the reason why they were together right now. "Where did you say Greg's
room was."
"
He pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. "The Sandford Motel. Know
where it is?"
She nodded. "It's not really a motel anymore. Gus Sandford owns it
and a couple of years ago started renting out the rooms by the week or
month rather than just overnight."
"Deputy Helstrom said Greg was here nearly three weeks before his
death."
Abby shot Luke a look of surprise. "I didn't realize he'd been in town
that long. Somebody told me he was back about ten days before he and I
met up in the diner."
"What we need to do is try to recreate what Greg did in those three
weeks. We need to find out who he had contact with, what he got
himself mixed up in."
"Won't the police have all that information?" Abby asked.
"The police don't care. They believe they've arrested the guilty
person."
"Me." Overwhelming despair blew through Abby like the cold winds of
winter sweeping down the mountainsides. "We've got to find something,
some clue to clear my name. My trial is in five weeks."
"Whatever leads or clues we find, we'll follow and see where they take
us."
She shot him a speculative glance. "Do you believe I'm innocent?"
Immediately she wished she could recall the question, knowing she
shouldn't give a damn what he thought.
He paused for a long moment. "I don't know, Abby," he finally said. "I
do know this, there are too many questions unanswered, too many things
happening that make no sense. I also believe there was a rush to
judgment because Richard Helstrom has a vested interest in
seeing you
put away, and that bothers me."
Abby nodded. At least he wasn't lying and pretending to believe in her
innocence without reservation.
She pulled into the parking lot of the old motel where Greg had been
living before his death. From the exterior, the place looked like the
last bus stop before hell.
The colorful neon sign that had once blinked a cheerful welcome now
hung broken and the rosy paint had dulled and peeled with age and
neglect.
"Not exactly the Ritz, huh?" Luke observed as they got out of the
track.
"But it's cheap and I imagine Greg didn't plan on spending the rest of
his life here."
"He was in unit five. Deputy Helstrom gave me the key."
It took them only a few minutes to locate unit five around the back of
the low, long building. As Luke opened the door, dank stale air hit
them in the face. Dark curtains were drawn closed across the windows
and Luke immediately strode to them and opened both the curtains and
windows, allowing in the bright sunshine and fresh air.
However, even the sunshine couldn't banish the overall air of utter
misery and despair that filled the room. An old gold bedspread covered
the bed and the nightstand was scarred with glass rings and cigarette
burns. Take-out food containers littered the small table, their rancid
scent lingering in the air.
Abby wondered if the food containers were Greg's, or if the police had
sat at the table and eaten during their search of the room.
"What a dump," Luke said, surveying the room with a touch of sadness in
his eyes.
Abby thought she knew what he was thinking. How sad that a place like
this would be a man's last stop. How sad that at the end of Greg's
life, all he'd left behind was a suitcase full of clothes in a cheap
rented room.
As she tried to imagine what she'd feel like if it were one of her
sisters that had brought them here, she felt a small surge of sympathy
for Luke. It would be difficult for any family member to see this
room, the utter hopelessness that it contained.
"It's sad, isn't it?" she finally said softly.
Luke nodded. "Yeah, it is. When Greg was younger, I constantly
hounded him about his life choices, about setting goals and achieving
some measure of success. In the years after he ran away, I hoped
that's what he'd done." He raked a hand through his hair, stress lines
radiating from the corners of his eyes and around his mouth. "Let's
get to it. Why don't you go through the dresser drawers, and I'll
check out the suitcase."
They worked in silence, going through clothing, looking under
furniture, in dark corners, anywhere there might be anything that would
be a clue to whom Greg might have been in contact with in the weeks.
before his death.
"This is hopeless," Abby said nearly two hours later as she finished
looking through the contents of the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.
"If there was anything here that might help, the police must have
picked it up." She left the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed as
Luke turned and stared out the window.
What little they had found was in the center of the bed. Scraps of
paper with names or numbers, match-book covers all from the same local
bar and an envelope of money Luke had found taped to the frame beneath
the bed. "I wonder how the police missed all this," Abby said.
Luke turned from the window and looked at her. "Apparently they didn't
dig too deep, but did just a cursory search." He joined her on the bed
and stared at the pile of miscellaneous items. "However, I do find it
interesting that this envelope contains over three thousand dollars in
cash. Where would Greg have gotten it and why hide it?"
"According to what Bert Manigan told me, two thousand of it came from
my bank account." She quickly filled him in on what Bert had told her
about the checks made out to Greg from her.
"And you don't remember writing them?"
"More than that, I'm positive I didn't write them. The only thing I
can figure out is that somebody stole the checks from the office and
forged my signature on them. Why that somebody made them out to Greg
is anyone's guess."
"But that tells us something we'd already suspected," Luke said. "That
Greg was in contact with somebody at the ranch."
"But who?" Again despair swept through Abby. "I've got a dozen men
working for me at the ranch and as you know Rusty doesn't exactly do
background checks on them before he hires them. I don't know much more
about them than their names, and in some cases that's not even the
truth," she finished with a pointed glare.
He raised his hands defensively. "Let's not get into that again." He
picked up the envelope of cash and held it out to her. "You might as
well take this. From what you've said, it probably came from your
account."
"Shouldn't we turn it in to the police?" Abby asked.
Luke shrugged. "Why? They didn't find it. The cash doesn't yield any
clues to the murder, and all it will do if we turn the envelope over to
them is tie up the money where nobody can use it. Go ahead, take it.
Apply it toward your defense fund."
Abby took the envelope, then watched as Luke picked through the other
items on the bed. He grabbed one of the half dozen matchbook covers.
"These are all from the same place," he observed.
Abby nodded. "The Wild Coyote Bar. It's a little dive on the edge of
town."
"In order to have all these matchbooks, Greg probably had to spend some
time in the bar."
A flare of excitement shot through her as she thought of something.
"Lots of the men at the ranch hang out there in their spare time. If
Greg was working with somebody at the ranch, the odds are good they met
in the bar."
"Then we need to go to the bar." Luke stood. Abby also rose from the
bed. "We can't go now. It's almost time to get Cody. Besides, I'm
sure it's not even open until night."
"Then we'll go tonight."
Abby frowned thoughtfully. "From what I've heard, it's a pretty rough
place. Junior has always said he wished it would burn down and save
him the usual nightly fights and drunken disturbance calls."
"If you don't feel comfortable going, then stay at home. I'll go by
myself and see what I can learn."
Abby eyed him in speculation. "No, I'll go. I want to be there when
we get answers. I don't want to depend on your spin on what you hear.
It's my life on the line here."
"Don't you trust me?" he asked, a small smile playing at the corners
of his mouth. The smile was devastating and, coupled with a wicked
shine in his eyes, caused a sensual heat to unfurl in the pit of her
stomach.
"No, I don't." She broke their eye contact and reached for her purse.
When she looked at him, the smile had faded and instead he gazed at her
with the same kind of speculation she'd given him moments before.
"Maybe that makes us even, because I'm not sure I trust you, either.
Come
on, let's get out of here."
He left the room and Abby followed after him, amazed by his last words
and disconcerted by the realization that she wasn't sure deep down that
she trusted herself to be innocent in Greg's death.
Chapter Twelve
The Wild Coyote Bar lived up to its name. Built in-the middle of a
grove of trees on the outskirts of town, the wooden building looked as
if it had been through several wars.
Although it was only a few minutes after eight o'clock, already the
place pulsed with the rhythm of too many drunks and too loud music. The
parking lot was packed and it took Abby several minutes to finally find
an empty space.
"I hope this isn't a mistake," she finally said once they were parked.
"This is the kind of place my mother always warned me to stay away
from."
"Worried about your reputation?" Luke smiled. Abby laughed nervously.
"Funny, isn't it? Everyone thinks I'm a murderer, but I don't want
anyone to think I hang out in disreputable places. Maybe I really am
nuts." She stared at the bar, reluctant to get out of the track and go
inside. "I decided I'm going to call my doctor, make an appointment to
see if he can figure out what's going on with my blackouts." She
looked at Luke, "I'm terrified of what he might find."
Cassidy, Carla - Midnight Wishes Page 16