The Danger Within

by Valerie Hansen

  Layla gave a subdued sigh and faced forward. “I suppose he is rich. I hadn’t really thought about it. He’d have to have a lot of money to be able to support a place like this, especially the way cattle prices fluctuate.”

  “Si. And there is the mining, too.”

  “Mining? The way he talked, I assumed all the silver had played out.”

  “There are still mineral rights to lease.”

  “Are they worth a lot?”

  “Not as much as water. Any rancher who needs water and doesn’t have the rights has a hard time here in Colorado. The state controls who gets water and how much.” He bent to take a better look at the cloud-laden sky. “This is good for the land. Not so much runs off if it melts slowly.”

  “There’s apparently a lot I don’t know about this part of the country,” Layla said.

  Norberto gave her a fatherly smile. “You will learn, señorita. You are smart. And you are interested. The rest will come naturally.”

  Thinking about how hard she’d had to work to learn to cook, Layla chuckled. “I don’t know about that. I imagine Michael will be really glad when your wife is back on her feet and able to start working in the house again.”

  To her surprise, the older man abruptly looked away. She scowled. “Norberto? How is Imelda doing?”

  “She is better, I think.”

  Layla thought she noted a twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth but with such a thick mustache covering his lip, it was hard to be certain.

  “How much better?”

  Norberto shrugged.

  His I-don’t-know attitude gave Layla pause. Could Imelda be stalling for reasons other than wanting to be pampered? She supposed it was possible. Norberto was certainly hiding something.

  The real question was, was Michael aware of the suspicious circumstances surrounding his cook’s extended absence? She doubted it. No man who liked to eat meat as much as Michael Vance did would purposely replace Imelda with someone who regarded beef as inedible.

  Layla smiled to herself. If he was stringing her along just to keep her at the Double V, then he deserved to go hungry. And if Norberto and Imelda were pulling the wool over everyone else’s eyes, whatever their motive, the truth would come out soon enough.

  She folded her arms across her chest and set her jaw. Until the facts became evident, she’d keep fixing healthy food and watching Michael struggle to eat it. He’d been doing pretty well, considering. And he was undoubtedly more fit because of the change in his diet, so all her efforts were not in vain.

  She pictured him seated across from her at the kitchen table. The image of the two of them, together, seemed so right, so perfect, it made Layla’s heart beat faster.

  She licked her lips. Thought of Michael’s kiss. Remembered the look in his eyes. It was clearly one of love. She couldn’t deny that. What she could deny—must deny—was that she shared those tender feelings.

  Chapter Twelve

  By the time they arrived at the ranch house the snow had stopped. Boot tracks led up to the back door. It looked as though Michael had beaten them home.

  Layla was halfway to the house when Norberto caught up to her. “Wait, señorita. I will check inside for you.”

  Her brows arched and she faced him. “What for? Did your boss tell you I have to be watched all the time?”

  The older man looked confused. “No, no. It is not you. It is a…” He struggled for the word.

  “Precaution?” Layla offered.

  “Si. A precaution.”

  “Well, you can stop fussing over me. Michael’s home. See his footprints? He’s already gone into the house.”

  Norberto’s eyes narrowed. Glancing in the direction of the horse barn, he shook his head. “Those cannot be the boots of Señor Vance. If he put the horses away, his tracks would come from over there.”

  “Maybe he rode.”

  The old man was adamant. “There are no hoofprints.”

  Layla wrapped her arms around herself to contain a shiver. “Then who’s in the house?”

  “It could be one of the other men, looking for Señor Vance,” Norberto said, studying the ground.

  Layla watched him puzzle it out until the silence was so unbearable she had to ask, “What?”

  “Look for yourself. A man went in. He did not come out.”

  “Maybe he used another door.”

  “That is possible. Wait here. I will go check.”

  Before Layla could stop him, Norberto had broken into a trot and disappeared around the west side of the ranch house, leaving her standing alone.

  Never before had she noticed uneasiness because of being by herself. On the contrary, going solo had always given her peace. Now, however, she was not a happy camper.

  The yard was empty. The surrounding countryside was quiet. Too quiet. It was as if the ranch itself was holding its breath.

  Disgusted, Layla blew a cloud of condensation and gave herself a lecture. “This is silly. I’m a grown woman, not a little girl afraid of the dark. I’m not going to start imagining bogeymen in every dark corner just because somebody else is overly cautious.”

  She squared her shoulders and marched up the porch steps, insisting, “It’s still daylight. Norberto’s nearby. There’s nothing to fear.”

  Her hand grasped the knob and turned it. As usual, the door was unlocked. A whoosh of warm, inviting air greeted her as she stepped inside, wrapping her in comforting feelings of home and hearth.

  On a lark, she called out a cheery, “Honey, I’m home.”

  The sound of her inane greeting echoed through the silent rooms. Layla giggled to relieve anxiety. She was turning, intending to stick her head out the door and assure Norberto that she was fine, when someone or something smashed into her shoulder and knocked her against the door, slamming it closed.

  Layla fell to her knees.

  A viselike hand gripped her shoulder and threw her aside.

  She screamed.

  Before she could recover her senses enough to identify the intruder, a dark figure bolted past, jerked open the door and vanished.

  Michael and Norberto arrived in the kitchen together. It was Michael who bent and pulled Layla to her feet. “What happened?”

  “I—I don’t know. Somebody knocked me down.”

  “Are you okay?” He sounded breathless.

  As soon as she nodded, Michael turned his attention to his hired hand. “I told you to stay with her.”

  “It’s not Norberto’s fault,” Layla quickly explained. “He told me to wait outside while he checked the front of the house but I…”

  Michael’s arm tightened around her shoulders, drew her closer. “You couldn’t follow directions. Why am I not surprised?”

  Again, he glared at Norberto. “What did you find?”

  “Nothing, boss. No more tracks. I was coming to tell the señorita we should go to the barn and wait for you when I heard her yell.” He spread his hands in a gesture of frustration. “Lo siento—I am sorry.”

  “I’m not blaming you,” Michael said. “Go see to the horses. I got them both unsaddled but I hadn’t had time to rub them down or feed them. I’ll stay here.”

  Layla looked up. “What if there was more than one man?”

  “Good point. Okay. Norberto and I will check the rest of the house before he leaves. Do you think you can stay put, for once?”

  He didn’t wait for Layla’s answer before he took her hand and said, “Never mind. I know better. Just come with me. That way I won’t have to wonder what else you’ve gotten yourself into.”

  “Hey, I couldn’t help that there was a prowler in your house. What do you think he was after, anyway?”

  “Beats me. He probably didn’t think we’d come home so quickly. I’ll check the safe in the den. Norberto, you check the bedrooms and closets in the back of the house.”

  “Si, boss.”

  Layla held back, tugging on Michael’s hand. “Don’t we need a weapon? Something to defend ourselves wit
h?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “A weapon? Last I heard, you didn’t approve of such things. Have you changed your mind?”

  “Maybe. Probably. I didn’t enjoy being thrown around and trampled.”

  Pausing, Michael studied her expression. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. All I hurt was my pride.”

  “Which is considerable,” he taunted. “Someday I’ll have to try to teach you the difference between courage and idiocy.”

  “It’s a pretty fine line.” Layla was smiling.

  Michael nodded as he led her down the hall by the hand. “For you, it probably is.”

  She had to take two steps for every one of his. “Oh, yeah? Well, I’m not the one poking around, looking for burglars, empty-handed.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t announce that fact quite so loudly, just in case.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Besides, I thought you didn’t believe in using violence to fight violence.”

  She made a face at him. “That was before I met you.”

  Layla was still with Michael when they finished the search and he dialed Sam Vance to report the latest development. To her relief and delight, Michael put the call on speakerphone and she heard Sam say, “I’ll radio Becky Hilliard and ask her to stop by your place. She’s already out that way.”

  “How about the local sheriff?” Michael asked.

  “Right now, I think we should consider your prowler as part of our ongoing investigation. Besides, I want Becky to talk to your lady friend. Maybe she can get more out of her than I did.”

  Michael cleared his throat noisily. “Uh, Sam? Layla’s here with me. We’re both listening. I thought you knew.”

  Layla was pretty sure she heard a muffled expletive in the background. She giggled. “Hi, Detective. How’s it going?”

  “Not as well as I’d hoped,” Sam said. “But since you’re on the line, have you remembered anything else?”

  “No.” Layla sobered. “I really did tell you everything I knew the first time we talked. There’s no hidden connection between me and the dead man. At least not that I’m aware of.” She watched Michael’s face, saw him nod support. “Maybe the collision was really an accident. Maybe the guy was just in a hurry and I was in his way.”

  “In his way?” Sam echoed. “I’d never thought of it quite like that before. What do you think, Mike? Has Dr. Dixon been getting in anybody’s way?”

  Thoughtful, Michael gazed at Layla. His brow knit. “In a manner of speaking. She’s the one who figured out what was killing my cattle.”

  “That might be enough.”

  “I can’t see why. Doc Pritchard never said anything about being threatened or attacked after he’d been here.”

  “He did leave town, though.”

  “Sure,” Michael said, “but he was always talking about wanting to visit Las Vegas.”

  “Just the same, I think I’ll see if I can track him down, make sure he’s all right. There’s always the chance he didn’t leave Colorado Springs of his own free will.”

  Layla shivered.

  Michael circled the desk and draped his arm around her shoulders. “Let us know as soon as you can, will you, Sam? Layla’s looking kind of peaked. She’d never admit it, but I think you’ve scared her.”

  “Will do. Watch for Becky. She should get there in an hour or so.”

  “Fine,” Michael replied. “Take care. And thanks, Sam.”

  Hanging up, Michael gave Layla’s shoulders a squeeze of encouragement before releasing her.

  “I’m confused,” Layla said.

  He arched an eyebrow. “What else is new?”

  “I’m serious. I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with Detective Hilliard like I did with Sam. What should I call her? Rebecca, Becca or Becky?”

  “Sam’s the only one who ever slips and calls her Becky. It’s a quirk of his. I think she prefers Becca.”

  “That’s how she introduced herself to me,” Layla said.

  “There you go. Problem solved. Any other questions?”

  Layla gave him a look that was a cross between silly and cynical.

  He laughed. “Don’t worry. You’ll like Becca when you get to know her better. And I know she’ll like you. She’s real down-to-earth. Raised her brother and sister after their mother passed away.”

  Layla frowned. “When we were at church the other night, I thought Holly said Becca wasn’t crazy about children.”

  “I suppose she feels she’s already raised a family. She and Sam were an item, years ago, but he wanted a big family and she didn’t. His wife, Jessica, already had Amy when she married Sam. They have a set of twins now, too.”

  Thoughtful, Layla walked away from him and stood by the window, staring into the icy yard. “Sam did the right thing. It’s crucial for a husband and wife to agree on important points like that. Married life is hard enough without having to overcome hurdles that could have been avoided by discussing them in the first place.”

  “I agree.” Michael’s voice was low, compelling. “So, how do you feel about kids?”

  Layla whirled. “Me? Why?”

  He shrugged. “Just wondered. I’m not sure whether I’d make a good father or not. My dad was the best.”

  “If you love your children even half as much as you do this ranch and your livestock, they’ll turn out fine.”

  “Thanks.” He smiled wryly. “Do you really think so?”

  “I know so,” Layla said. “I wish my parents…”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. It’s just a hang-up I have. My folks raised me and my brother and sister to be independent. I like being that way. Sometimes, I wish Mom and Dad weren’t quite so happy without me, that’s all.”

  “Have you ever told them how you feel?”

  Layla’s head snapped around. She stared, scowled. “Of course not. Why would I do that?”

  Shrugging, Michael smiled at her. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe to show them you still need their love, too.”

  “I don’t,” she insisted. “I’m fine just as I am. And I don’t need lecturing, either.”

  “I wasn’t—”

  “Forget it.”

  Whirling, she headed for the kitchen so he wouldn’t see the tears she was blinking back. The longer she hung around Michael Vance and the Double V, the more she realized how much she’d been missing.

  It wasn’t his fault he was a part of a big, loving family and a big, loving church, any more than it was her fault she wasn’t. It was the stark contrast that hurt. That, and her inability to let go of her prejudices enough to step into the circle of joy his life represented.

  He’d called her foolishly courageous. She wasn’t brave at all. If she had a speck of courage to spare, she’d use it to confess her feelings to her handsome boss and accept whatever he said in return, even if it broke her heart.

  “Before I leave here, I will,” Layla promised herself. “I’ll tell him. I really will.”

  Reacting to the conversation with herself, she made a face. What she needed right now was Smokey. At least when she talked to the dog, no one could accuse her of being totally out of touch with reality.

  That thought brought a smile, a thankful heart and a prayer. “I am grateful for my insight into animals, Lord. I just wish I understood the people in my life half as well.”

  Looking over her shoulder to make sure she was still all by herself, she added in a whisper, “Especially Michael Vance.”

  Becca joined Layla in the kitchen and helped prepare the green salad while they talked.

  “You’re sure you don’t mind?” Layla asked.

  “Not a bit. I get pretty tired of doing the same thing all day long. This is a welcome break.”

  “Boy, not for me. I hate to cook. I’ll be thrilled when Imelda can come back to work.”

  “Really? Don’t you want to stay?”

  “I wouldn’t mind being the ranch vet for a while longer. I just don’t belong in
a kitchen.” She smiled. “Except to eat, of course. Would you like to join us for supper? We have plenty.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks,” the detective said. “I have stacks of paperwork piling up at the office. That’s the worst part about my job. I hate filling out forms.”

  “Is there much crime in Colorado Springs? It seems pretty peaceful.”

  “There aren’t nearly as many problems since Max broke up the big drug cartel,” Becca said. “I’m assigned to hostage negotiations. We don’t get many of those calls, so in my spare time I help out wherever I’m needed.”

  “It doesn’t bother you to work with Sam?” Layla immediately retracted the question. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business. Michael told me you and Sam had dated and it slipped out.”

  “I don’t mind answering.” A shake of her head set her long, brown ponytail in motion. “Sam’s happy. That’s all that counts. He and I were always wrong for each other. It just took us a long time to see that.” She paused, smiled at her hostess. “So, how do you feel about Michael?”

  Layla’s cheeks flamed. “Michael? Why?”

  “I figured turnabout was fair play. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. It’s not an official question.”

  “Whew! That’s a relief. Your partner already thinks I’m hiding something.”

  “Are you?”

  Layla frowned, sobered. “No. I don’t know why everybody seems to think I am. I never met the man who ran me off the road. I don’t know anything about Michael’s missing foreman. And I didn’t poison his cattle or do away with the regular vet. Does that about cover it?”

  Becca laughed heartily. “I’d say it does. And for what it’s worth, I believe you.” She peered at the pot Layla was stirring. “What is that stuff, anyway?”

  “Tofu and tomato with Italian spices. I’m making spaghetti sauce.”

  Stifling a grin, the detective backed away. “Wow. Okay. Well, the salad’s done. Guess I’ll be going. Nice talking to you again.”