Our Red Hot Romance Is Leaving Me Blue

by Dixie Cash

  Reaching his SUV, he stopped, leaned on the fender and drew a deep breath of unpolluted air. The cool crispness was revitalizing. And as the air filled his lungs, a new plan began formulating in his brain.

  Justin was known as a good guy. In fact, John Patrick wished he had a dollar for every time he had heard someone say, “Justin Sadler is such a good guy.” Bullshit. As far as John Patrick was concerned, Justin Sadler was a hick and a naive redneck. Why, if he, John Patrick, had been born with Justin’s height and only half his hair and good looks, he would rule the fuckin’ world.

  But if Justin wanted to sit down and talk business, John Patrick would do it. And if Justin wanted to help him out, John Patrick would allow him to do that, too. His well-meaning brother-in-law had been right about one thing—he did have a better business head on his shoulders. And cooking the books would be a snap. He would soon have the money he needed and no one would be the wiser.

  He left the hotel parking lot, tires squealing. Pulling onto the highway he laughed at the turn of events. Yep, just when you thought life had handed you a bad dose of medicine, a cure came along.

  Justin spent his whole trip back to Sophia’s room digesting the news about the natural gas find. His steps carried a distinct buoyancy. Everything around him seemed even more surreal and out of focus than it had during and after the séance. But beneath it all a thrill lurked. If John Patrick could be believed, Justin Evan Sadler was a millionaire.

  He rapped lightly on Sophia’s door to warn her he was back, then inserted the key and went inside. Sophia was under the covers, lying on her side, watching TV.

  “Hi,” she said, smiling. “You look like you just scratched off the winning lottery ticket.”

  Justin looked at her for a few seconds then burst into laughter. “In a way, I did. Listen, I need you to do me a favor.”

  “Sure.”

  “Throw some clothes on, would you? I ran into John Patrick in the bar. He’s had too much to drink and I need to drive him home. As you might guess, someone driving drunk has a bigger effect on me than it might on other people. If you’d follow me in the rental, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Of course,” she said, sitting up.

  Justin started for the door. “I’ll wait outside while you dress.”

  “I’ll be right out.”

  He waited only a few minutes outside the room before Sophia emerged, combing her fingers through her long hair, then pulling it back into a long pony tail. “I’ve scrubbed my face for bed already. I must look a fright. Don’t look at me too closely.”

  Justin restrained himself from telling her how beautiful he found her. He cleared his throat and said, “Let’s go.”

  Entering the bar, Justin looked around. No John Patrick. But money had been scattered on the bar in a haphazard manner.

  “Excuse me,” he said to Sophia and left her side, heading for the door marked DUDES. Entering and exiting before the door had time to close, he returned to Sophia’s side. “He’s not in the men’s room.”

  “Maybe he needed to get some air.”

  “Bet you’re right. Let’s go outside and see.”

  Quickstepping, Justin led the way to the outside parking lot. Again, no sign of John Patrick or his high-powered SUV. “Damn, I don’t know where he parked.”

  “Do you have the keys?”

  “Yes,” he said, reaching in his pocket and pulling out the Porsche fob. He dangled it in the air.

  “Does it have a button for the lights or the horn?”

  “Of course.” He smacked his forehead with his palm.

  “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Women are taught this practically from birth. Obviously you haven’t lost you car in a packed mall’s parking lot.”

  Justin raised the key high and pressed the buttons, but heard no horn, saw no flashing lights. He jogged to the side of the building, with Sophia right behind him. He saw no sign of John Patrick or his car anywhere. “You’ve got the rental’s keys with you, right?”

  Sophia dug in her purse and pulled out the tagged ring. “Here they are.”

  “Great. Give them to me. We’ve got to catch a Porsche.”

  Sophia scrambled into the passenger seat of the compact rental, Justin scooted behind the wheel, started the car and accelerated in the direction that John Patrick would most likely have taken to reach home. Justin knew the Aero rental would never catch up with the Cayenne. His only hope was John Patrick hadn’t opened up the SUV’s powerful engine. Unfortunately, he also knew the driver loved nothing more than pushing anything to its limit.

  He toyed with the idea of calling the highway patrol, but decided he preferred catching up with John Patrick and getting him to pull over. Lucky for all, the nighttime traffic on the West Texas highways was scarce. He and Sophia had met only one car traveling in the opposite direction.

  He unclipped his cell phone and handed it to Sophia. “Locate John Patrick’s number and call him for me. If we can get him, maybe I can talk him into stopping.”

  After a few seconds Sophia said, “Got it. Sorry it took so long. I’m not familiar with this phone.”

  Taking it from her, Justin listened to the burrs, his hopes diminishing as he heard each one. When John Patrick’s outgoing message for voice mail engaged, he snapped the phone shut and returned it to the holder clipped to his belt. “Damn. He’s not answering.”

  “Maybe he’s home already,” Sophia said.

  “I hope not. He lives about five miles farther north than my place and another five or more off the highway. If he’s already home, he flew under the radar.”

  “Is there someplace he’d go besides home?”

  Justin laughed sardonically. “Oooh, yeah, but I don’t know all of those addresses.” A few beats of silence passed, with Justin thinking of the inebriated man who had taken Rachel’s life. He swallowed hard. “I hate to think he’s putting someone’s life in jeopardy. I’ll drive as far as his house. If his vehicle isn’t there, I’ll call the DPS.

  “That’s probably best,” Sophia said softly.

  They rode in silence until they reached the turnoff that led to John Patrick’s house. Justin said a silent prayer that the familiar black Porsche would be parked where it usually was when John Patrick was home—on the circular drive in front of the house. Rachel had told him once that she thought her brother did that so that he could make a fast getaway if he needed to. But when the Daly home came into Justin’s headlight range, his hopes were dashed. He saw no sign of the Cayenne and drove back to the main highway.

  “Let me try his cell one more time.” He reached for his phone again and keyed in the stored number. He waited for an answer that didn’t come.

  “What about calling his house?”

  “I don’t want to upset his wife needlessly. I’d rather call the troopers. If it turns out he’s home and parked in the garage or something, then no harm’s done. On the other hand, if he’s still out driving around, they’ll find him.” After a long, guilt-laden pause, he added, “And they’ll nail him on a DUI. He could go to jail.”

  Sophia reached over and touched his forearm. Her touch had a soothing effect, easing the conflict he felt. “I know it’s hard for you to call them, but it’s the right thing to do.”

  “Yeah. Lives could be at stake. And don’t I know that better than anyone.” Keying in 9-1-1, he gave the operator the information and was thanked for his call and his service to the community, but he ended the call feeling more heel than hero.

  “I know you feel bad, but you had no choice,” Sophia said. “You had to do it.”

  Justin sent a sideways glance at his passenger. Was she reading his mind and thoughts? Was she capable of that?

  “I didn’t read your mind,” she replied. “I don’t have the power to do that. But I do think you’re the kind of man who wouldn’t take enjoyment from a situation like this.”

  “I appreciate that,” Justin said. “Say, uh, I hope you don’t mind, but we’re about a m
ile from the entrance to my place. I’m feeling better now and if you wouldn’t mind, I’ll just—”

  “Don’t apologize. It makes perfect sense you want to go home. I’ve had a wonderful evening. Let’s just pretend we had a date and I’m taking you home.”

  Justin chuckled. “I suppose that would be in keeping with the way things are done these days, wouldn’t it?”

  “That’s what I hear,” Sophia said, laughing too.

  With his gate in sight, Justin slowed. He crossed the cattle guard and eased up the winding driveway. His headlights spotlighted his home and much to his utter disbelief, there, in front of his house, sat the Porsche, driver’s door open, lights on. As Justin came to a stop behind the SUV, he could hear the motor purring like a contented cat.

  “I’ll be damned. I didn’t even think to look here.”

  “At least he’s off the road,” Sophia said with a sigh.

  “That’s a plus.” He switched off the ignition. “Looks like I’ll be babysitting tonight.”

  “I’ll stay just long enough to make sure everything’s all right.”

  Justin dreaded what lay ahead. He had been cordial to John Patrick in the bar, but after the revealing conversation, he didn’t know how long he could maintain that façade. He opened the door and slid out.

  At the Porsche he stopped, leaned inside, and killed the engine and lights. John Patrick might have no concern for the price of gas, but Justin didn’t see the point in the waste. As he closed the door, his eyes landed on his own front porch, bathed in the weak glow of the porch light he had turned on when he and Sophia left earlier. There, lying face down and motionless was a body. Justin recognized the clothing. John Patrick.

  Passed out, Justin thought. He expelled a breath and left the Cayenne. He walked over and gently nudged his brother-in-law with his toe, “Hey J. P., get up.” No response. He nudged again, a little harder. “Get up, J. P. You can’t sleep it off out here on my porch. The coyotes will drag you off.”

  Sophia came alongside him. “Are you sure he’s all right?”

  Justin looked at her. “I assume he’s passed out.”

  Squatting, Justin made a visual inspection of his brother-in-law, looking for signs of trauma. He picked up his wrist and felt for a pulse.

  Taking his shoulder, he gently turned him over until he lay on his back. “Jesus,” he mumbled and dragged a nearby chair closer, raised John Patrick’s feet and placed them on the chair. Without a word to Sophia, he grabbed his phone and for the second time in the evening, called 9-1-1.

  “What’s wrong?” Sophia asked after he disconnected.

  “I don’t know, but he’s barely breathing and his pulse is so faint I had trouble finding it. The other night, I thought he was lying about the cardiac problem, but maybe he wasn’t.”

  “Shouldn’t he be covered up?”

  “Yeah, what was I thinking? I’ll be right back.” Justin went into the house and grabbed the first thing he found—the afghan from the couch. Rachel’s afghan.

  Outside, Sophia took the throw from his hands and spread it over John Patrick’s still body. She pressed her hand against his forehead for several seconds. Justin couldn’t see her face, but her body language told him something was happening. “If it’s his heart, I doubt he’d be running a fever,” he said. “I think he feels clammy.”

  Not moving from her place beside the unresponsive body, Sophia looked up at him with sadness in her eyes. “When the paramedics get here, be sure they understand that he’s suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder as well.”

  Justin stared at her in disbelief.” Are you kidding? How? What do you know that I don’t?”

  “Let’s just say that what this man has been through tonight, I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.”

  Justin didn’t say another word. He sank to the porch floor, his body pressed against John Patrick’s to keep him warm while they waited in silence. His imagination was running wild with what might have occurred, but for a reason he couldn’t understand, much less explain, he chose to not ask questions.

  Every few minutes he picked up his unconscious brother-in-law’s wrist and felt for a pulse. It was there, but barely. Still, he was alive. If Sophia hadn’t been here, Justin would have assumed it was his heart or that he had passed out from overdrinking. Could a person truly be shocked to the brink of death? He’d heard of it before, but never witnessed it.

  In less than twenty minutes the wail of the ambulance’s siren pierced the night’s quiet. The horizon, black as velvet, displayed a splash of brilliant color. “Here they come,” Justin said.

  He recognized the ambulance driver as Mike Greenwich, a man Justin had worked with many times. His partner was a young Mexican man Justin had never met. Both were removing paraphernalia from the back of the EMT unit when Justin approached. “Hi, Mike. Glad to see you.”

  “Hey, man.” He gestured toward his partner. “This is Julio. He’s new.” He peered around Justin’s body. “I thought this was your address when the call came in. What’s going on?”

  “I just got home and found my brother-in-law like this.” He tilted his head toward John Patrick’s still body.

  “Is that a kid?” Julio asked, as the trio moved to the body.

  “Naw, he’s a full-grown asshole,” Mike said. “What’d little Johnny do this time? Fall down and go boom?”

  Mike and his companion laughed, but grew silent when Justin stopped them with an icy glare. “This is my wife’s brother, guys.” After a pause, he continued, “His pulse is faint and breathing is shallow. He’s cold and clammy to the touch. He’s been drinking heavily but no signs of vomitus, passageway is clear, no obstructions. Reflexes are normal with no response to painful stimuli. Pupils are normal, not fixed and dilated. I don’t have a cuff here at my house, so I didn’t take his pressure.”

  “Let’s get him on the bus, Julio,” Mike said. “You drive. I’ll call the stats in.” He put out his right hand. “Justin, it’s good to see you, man.” He turned to Sophia. “You want to ride with our patient?”

  “I’ll ride,” Justin said. He looked at Sophia. “Do you want to follow us or return to the hotel?”

  “I’ll go back to the hotel.”

  “Will you be all right?”

  “Absolutely. I’m fine.”

  “Here, take my cell number so you can call me if you need to.” He said the numbers and she entered them into her own cell phone.

  “Good luck,” she said, “and will you call me in the morning and let me know how things are?”

  “Of course,” Justin said, “thanks for…well, thanks for everything.”

  His eyes lingered on hers.

  Sophia smiled. “I’ll give you this much, Justin Sadler, you sure know how to show a girl an interesting time.”

  twenty-seven

  Sophia watched the ambulance pull away into the night. After hastily entering Justin’s cell number into her digital address book, in the window that asked for a description of the party, she keyed in “someone special” and snapped the phone shut. Her feeling for Justin wasn’t a schoolgirl fantasy. He was someone special. In only a few days she had seen traits in him she didn’t think existed outside of romance novels. He truly was a knight in shining armor and all any girl could hope for.

  Taking a few moments to study his home before leaving, she was tempted to enter. The pull was overpowering, but she resisted. A time and a place existed for all things, and even though this was the place, the time wasn’t until tomorrow evening.

  She climbed into her car and drove away slowly, suddenly drained of energy. She needed to get back to the hotel. Her body needed rest and her mind needed peace for the coming ordeal.

  She was so lost in her own thoughts that before she knew it she was at the hotel. She parked close to the entrance, entered the hotel and walked to her room, all without interruption. Once inside, she sat on the edge of the bed and removed her shoes. Signs of the Monopoly game they had been playing earlier and h
adn’t put away entirely were scattered over the table. Smiling at the memory, she dug out her phone, flipped the case open, pressed the key and waited until she heard Justin’s baritone voice.

  “Hi, Sophia. You at the hotel?”

  Tucking one foot under her, she grinned foolishly. “Safe and sound. How’s your brother-in-law?”

  “He’s the same. They’re going to admit him. I called his wife, Felicia. She’s a wreck. Her father’s driving her here. They should arrive any minute.”

  “Have they said what they think is wrong with him?”

  “No, they’re calling in a neurologist and I suspect the next thing that will happen is a battery of tests. Right now he’s stable but unconscious.”

  “Hm. Well it could be worse.”

  “Yeah, it could always be worse.”

  “Uh, this might not be the time to bring it up, but tomorrow night—”

  “Please don’t tell me you think we should cancel the séance tomorrow night,” Justin said.

  “No, quite the contrary. I was going to say that absolutely nothing should keep us from moving forward. There’s an angry spirit in your home, Justin. All of the signs are there and every time I’m there, I sense it. I think it would be dangerous to delay.”

  “You don’t mean dangerous as in dangerous? Surely you aren’t serious about that.”

  “I wish I wasn’t. I don’t think you should go back there tonight.”

  “I’m not afraid, Sophia. Whatever is in there has been there for months and it hasn’t hurt me.”

  “But it’s under new stress now. It’s unpredictable. Just trust me, okay?”

  “Hey, I trust you, Sophia, okay? I probably won’t be able to get away from the hospital tonight anyway. Uh-oh, Felicia just walked in. I need to go. See you tomorrow night. Sleep tight.”

  Her thoughts miles away, Sophia’s body moved mechanically as she laid her phone on the bedside table and rubbed the cold chills that had formed on her arms.

  The early-morning preparations for a full day of business had Debbie Sue flipping the sign in the Styling Station door’s window from CLOSED to OPEN. Over the years her customers had become her friends, and normally, she was anxious to see most of them. But this morning she was more eager to see Edwina.