Cassidy, Carla - Midnight Wishes

by Midnight Wishes(lit)

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."