by Joanna Wayne
“But I never knew that. I never knew any of it. I moved to San Antonio, but still I called and asked about you all through the years. I was always told you both were fine, that you were in good homes, in good schools. And in the pictures, you look so healthy and happy. I couldn’t take you back and give you nothing. I couldn’t take you back to the kind of hell I had made for myself.”
“What pictures?”
Sylvia reached to the table and picked up a photograph album, opening it to the middle. Ashley skimmed through pages of snapshots and school photographs. And it was true. In most of them she and Peter were smiling, the insincere “cheese” that children learn to perform.
“I made bad choices, Ashley, all through life. I thought I deserved for bad things to happen to me. I was nothing, not even strong enough to take care of my own children. I lived with a series of abusive men, drank too much, lived on regrets and tranquilizers. I was so out of it I never even heard about Peter’s death until he was already buried.”
Sylvia dabbed the shredded tissue at her eyes. “That’s when I finally got the courage to get my life together. I had to clean up my act so I could find you, if only to tell you how sorry I am. And to let you know I never stopped hurting for the children I gave up. I never will.”
“I’m sorry, Sylvia. I really am. Sorry for all three of us.” Ashley reached out a hand across the table. Sylvia clasped it. They sat that way for a minute, not talking, not moving. And all the while Ashley was aware of Dillon’s nearness. He was beside her, silent, supportive.
“I don’t know what you want from me, Sylvia.”
“Whatever you can give. Just having you come today means more than you can ever know. You’re so pretty, so special.”
“I’m part of you.” Ashley stood and crossed to stand in front of Sylvia. “I don’t know what we can be. Not yet. The past can’t just be wiped away.”
“I know that.” Sylvia stood and opened her arms to Ashley.
Shaking, Ashley stepped inside them. The hug was awkward, tender, yet frightening. It was a first step. Right now Ashley wasn’t sure she could ever take the second.
“I have to go now,” she said. “It’s late, and I want to get back to my son. He’s almost two. His name is Peter Dillon.”
“I know. My grandson. I hope to get to see him someday.”
Ashley’s breath caught in her throat. The family ties she’d always wanted were suddenly scaring her to death. “We’ll see,” she said. “We’ll just have to see.” And this time she reached for Dillon, needing the feel of his strong arms around her waist.
THE BEER was hot. And hot beer made Lester Grant very angry. Lowering the window, he tossed the can onto the highway. It bounced like one of those Mexican jumping beans before it flew out of sight. A little more trash on the interstate wouldn’t make much difference. Not in Louisiana.
But it wasn’t just the hot beer that was getting to him. It was Ashley Randolph. She wasn’t going to lead him to the money. Not until he convinced her he meant business.
He’d tried breaking into the house. Actually Ernest had let him in, but it had gotten him nowhere, except almost shot by Dillon.
Ernest was still on the scene, following Ashley’s every step, and she hadn’t gone near anything more interesting than the body Lester had crammed into the lean-to. Nosy old man, showing up at the moment Lester decided to add a little excitement to his stay at the ranch. He’d butchered a calf. That would have been it if the old man hadn’t appeared in the bushes, cutting fences like a high-school boy on Halloween.
And Ashley had found the body while Lester was back in New Orleans connecting with a man he knew could provide him with fake documents to get out of the country, leaving no record of Lester Grant’s whereabouts behind.
Too bad Lester had missed seeing Ashley retching and green as the grass, though. His partner was getting all the fun. Partner? Gullible fool was more like it. The man believed he was going to get a share of the loot when Lester finally got his hands on it.
It would be funny if it wasn’t so stupid. Ernest had visited him in jail, claiming he could get one of the female witnesses to say anything he wanted. Susan Ellen Richards. She was that sweet on him. And all Ernest Gonz wanted was a cut of the money.
You couldn’t blame Ernest. That would have been a real deal for a con man. Corrupt a witness, get a large share of a million bucks. But Lester was too smart for him. He’d kept Ernest hanging on through the years with the promise of a cut of the loot. Delivering threatening letters, keeping an eye on Ashley. The kinds of things Lester couldn’t do from that stinking jail cell.
Ernest had the easy part of the deal, hanging around the ranch, making a little money, picking up women from time to time. He wasn’t the one who’d spent seven years of his life stuck in the pen.
And the fool thought good old Lester Grant was going to count out $250,000 and lay it in his hands. That was going to be another fine sight. Seeing Ernest’s face when he found out differently. The best bet would be to kill him and Ashley, and anyone else who got in the way. Kill them and make a clean getaway.
The only thing nicer than that would be if he could place suspicion on the uppity senator. Now that would be something. So good it almost boggled the mind.
There was a truck stop ahead. He could get a six-pack of cold beer, but if he did he’d probably have to pull off the road and get some sleep.
And if he did that, he’d never get to Kelman by morning.
Chapter Fifteen
Ashley stood in the bedroom watching Dillon knot the conservative silk tie at his neck. Today the jeans and the boots had been shelved in favor of his business blues. The Stetson, however, would stay. From a saddle atop Thunder to a mesquite-scratched pickup truck to a long, shiny limousine, no one ever doubted Dillon’s ties to the ranch.
And always he was equally devastating. Her spirits fell a couple of notches. Handsome, wonderful, and he loved her, and what had she done for him? Brought murder and total chaos into his life. Possibly even lost the upcoming election for him.
And no matter what he claimed, she knew how much politics meant to him. A way of giving back, he’d often said, to a state and country that had given so much to him. If honest, hardworking men didn’t run for office, then the country would be run by power-hungry crooks. Also his words.
But major problems were brewing again. Lester had disappeared. Dillon had been so sure he would be in custody in a day or two, but now he could be anywhere. The Louisiana police were clueless as to his whereabouts.
He would be back, one day when they least expected him. And he would kill again. A man that full of hate would make someone pay for his stint in prison with no monetary reward of stolen funds. And she was that someone.
Ashley—and anyone else who happened to be in the way. She had to make sure that wouldn’t be Petey or Dillon or any of the Randolph family.
“What’s the matter?” Dillon crossed the room and took her in his arms, tilting her face until she had to make eye contact. “Are you still thinking about the meeting with your mother?”
“No. It’s nothing. Just a case of nerves, I guess.”
“Why don’t you come with me today? You still have time if you hurry. The plane doesn’t leave until ten. I’ll speak at the luncheon in Austin, and we’ll be back here for dinner. I’m sure Mom would love to watch Petey.”
“No. I’ve way too much to do, getting ready for the birthday party. Tomorrow’s the big day.”
His face grew troubled. “You’re not still thinking those crazy thoughts about running away, are you?”
“Dillon, we’ve been through this before.”
“And we’re going through it again. Over and over until you start making sense.”
“You need to catch a plane, Dillon. We’ll talk about this tonight.” She tried to pull away from him.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her, his eyes burning into hers. “Your place is here on the ranch with your husband and your son. If the
battle involves one of us, it involves all of us. That’s what families do, Ashley, they share each other’s successes, and they share the battles.”
“You don’t know Lester. You don’t know what he’s like. He won’t stop until we’re all destroyed.”
“Then we’ll all be destroyed together, but we won’t sacrifice you.”
“Please, Dillon. Let this go for now. You have a speech to give to a thousand union workers. You need their votes, and they need you for senator. The whole state does.”
“Everyone needs me except my wife.” The words were hard, a challenge she couldn’t live up to.
“I do need you, Dillon. But I can’t destroy your life, and I can’t put Petey in danger. It’s as simple as that.”
“Only one thing is simple here, Ashley. Your inability to commit. You talk about family. You talk about love. But when it comes right down to it all you do is run. What do you think it will do to Petey if his mother walks out of his life?”
“He’ll understand one day. And one day, if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to come back without the threat of Lester hanging over us.”
“He’ll understand, all right. The same way you understand why your mother deserted you. Is that what you want?”
“No. I want him safe. And he won’t be alone, not the way I was. He’ll have you and your family.”
“And what about the two of us, Ashley? Are you willing to throw us away? Because that’s what you’ll be doing. I accept equal share of the blame for what happened between us before. Maybe more. But not this time. And I won’t settle for a relationship where every time the going gets rough, you take off on your own.”
“I’ll be doing you a favor.”
“Tearing the heart out of me is not the kind of favor I can appreciate.”
The muscles in his arm strained against the sleeves of his shirt, and his eyes bored into hers, so dark and compelling she shuddered and grew limp.
“Run away, again, and it’s over between us.” He took her in his arms and kissed her hard, passion so consuming she grew dizzy. She melted against him. One brief moment, and then he pulled away. “Think about it, Ashley, think long and hard. Either we win or Lester does. It’s up to you.”
Ashley fell to the bed as Dillon turned and stamped out of the room and down the stairs. The tears started, falling as fast as a winter rain, soaking the pillow where she’d buried her head. A jagged pain began in her stomach but ended deep in her heart, in her very soul. And the tears just kept on coming.
THE SPEECH was a success if you measured success by applause. The crowd had interrupted Dillon numerous times with loud ovations, including one of the standing variety when he came to the conclusion.
Any other time, Dillon would have been on a high, ready to talk someone’s ear off about the future of Texas. Today he only wanted to get home. They should have broken down and bought a small plane before now. Then he wouldn’t be stuck in Austin until three o’clock.
Of course, he might not be finished with business much before then. Branson had come up with a name and address for Ashley’s foster mother at the time of her brother’s death, and the woman lived in Austin. She’d been divorced and remarried during the intervening years, making finding her tough as old jerky.
Dillon hadn’t told Ashley he was tripping into her past again. Yesterday’s experience with her mother had been too hard on her. Everything was too hard on her right now. Even him.
And she was way too hard on him. Fate was a fickle mistress. When you fall once from the top of the world, you don’t expect to have to do it again. Yet that was what Ashley had in mind for the both of them.
Somehow he had to get through to her. And he had to do it fast. Otherwise, he’d have to keep his word about roping and tying her to the premises.
But he still had today and the better part of tomorrow. Tomorrow the son he’d already learned to love would be two years old. A great family occasion, with everybody present. Food for an army, decorated cake, hand-cranked ice cream, cards and special gifts. Everybody present and accounted for. Even Ryder was flying in, missing an afternoon rodeo competition in Fort Worth to do it.
A family celebration. Exactly as it had been for all the birthday parties in the Randolph family for as long as he could remember. And if he didn’t come up with a miracle fast, it just might be the last one like that for Petey and for him. A celebration without Ashley wouldn’t be a celebration at all.
DILLON SAT in the woman’s apartment, disappointment clawing at his stomach. He’d hit another dead end.
“I know I haven’t been much help, Senator Randolph, but I just can’t remember anything that might help you locate the stolen money.” The woman kicked her crossed leg impatiently. “The police questioned us over and over right after the robbery. I told them the same thing I’m telling you.”
“Did anyone call during that time and leave a message that didn’t make sense to you?”
“You mean like some kind of secret code?”
“Something like that, or maybe a location.”
“No. I can’t remember any strange call, no unusual hang-ups. And, like I said, as far as I know Peter never even tried to contact Ashley. The first we heard about the robbery was when the social worker called to tell Ashley her brother had been killed, shot by the police when they cornered him. That was the very next day after the robbery.”
Dillon searched his brain. The right answer required the right question. A new twist that would trigger a memory. This woman was his best lead. If he failed today, he had no idea where to look next.
“Are you sure Ashley didn’t receive any letters from her brother right after he’d been killed?”
“I’m sure of that. Over and over that poor girl said how they’d never even had a chance to say goodbye. He was all the family she had. Her mother never even sent her so much as a card on her birthday.”
“So I’ve heard. Did anyone send her cards?”
“Just her brother, when he was alive.”
“Did anyone send her presents?”
“No, the only thing she ever got was that stuffed animal.”
Dillon pulled a pen and a scrap of paper from his pocket. “Tell me about that.”
“It was just a little cheap thing. A stuffed bear with a red bandanna around its neck. Not quite right, if I remember correctly. Oh, yes. It was the stomach. The seam was sewn so crooked and sloppily, the poor bear looked like a reject.”
“Who sent her the bear?”
“Her brother. We never told her that, though. The bear didn’t show up until a month or so after Peter had been cornered and shot. Somehow it got delivered to the wrong address, and the folks took their own good time about returning it to the post office.”
The woman cocked her head and nodded. “Come to think of it, I’m not sure I even remembered to tell the police about that bear. Not that it mattered. It was just a cheap toy.”
“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell Ashley the present was from her brother?”
“For her own good. She was just starting not to cry so much, and we didn’t want her to start up again. We put it up and gave it to her at Christmas.”
“But you still didn’t tell her it was from Peter.”
“No. We just told her it was from us. She loved that mangled-looking thing, she did. Slept with it every night, like she was a baby with a Iovey instead of a heartbroken teenager. She was such a sad girl, and I wasn’t much better off myself. Not with my marriage falling apart at the seams like that little brown bear.”
A surge of excitement darted through Dillon. A mangled brown bear with a sloppily sewn seam. It might just be the answer. The way for Peter to get the money to Ashley without anyone else knowing. Only Ashley never knew the bear was from him.
If he was right, Bear was a millionaire. The money, or at least some of it, was probably in Petey’s hands right now, stuffed inside Bear. It had been there all along.
A little bear Lester Grant could have easil
y walked away with.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help.”
“You were a great deal of help. Dillon shook her hand. It was all he could do to keep from kissing her, to keep from jumping up and down and shouting Petey’s yippie ki yi yi. If he was right about this…
His steps were lighter than air as he headed for the rented car and the drive to the Austin airport. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Ashley’s face when he stuck a pair of tweezers through the seam of Bear’s stomach and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. Just the way Petey must have done with his tiny fingers a couple of nights ago.
BRANSON MANEUVERED through the San Antonio afternoon traffic, turning left on Culebra and sipping the last of his Taco Cabana cola. When he’d started all these investigations, he’d fully expected to find out the worst about Ashley and her ties with Lester Grant. Now he hoped to find out the best. He’d settle for the truth.
What worried all of them was that one of the ranch hands could be mixed up in this. The meeting Branson had lined up this afternoon with Susan Ellen Richards might give them a few answers as to who the traitorous rat might be.
Miss Richards hadn’t been too cooperative over the phone. That’s why Branson was visiting in person. Persistence always paid off, one way or another.
“ME HELP, Mommy.”
“Okay, sweetie. It’s your birthday cake. You can help.” Ashley wiped away some of the flour that covered half the kitchen surfaces and sat Petey beside the bowl. “We want to get the cake all ready before Daddy comes home.”
“Daddy gone work.”
“That’s right, your daddy is gone to work. Your daddy is the best senator in the state of Texas. One day he might even be governor, or perhaps the president of the United States. And we’ll have flour all over the White House kitchen.”