The Troubled Texan

by Phyliss Miranda

  Slowly, he had walked across the hall and quietly opened the door to the guest room. Still in her work clothes but without her shoes, he found her curled up in a fetal position on top of the bedspread.

  Not wanting to wake her, he eased one of his mother’s quilts from the rocking chair in the corner and spread it over Rainey. He stood there for a while watching her sleep before he went down on his knees and pulled her hair back from her cheek. After kissing her lightly, he had quietly retreated with his heart breaking for her.

  Suddenly, it occurred to him that she had become more important to him than he even realized. And they had had such a good day . . . until she had opened the package from San Quentin and had found the purse.

  He glanced up at the clock on the wall. Nearly nine o’clock. He thought back to the package. Putting his lawman’s hat on, the significance of the purse was secondary to the fact that it had been mailed from a man behind bars. A man whose every movement was monitored. Every visitor scrutinized. Every piece of mail read except for anything coming from or going to his attorney of record.

  So how in the living hell had a high-security inmate such as Hunter gotten a purse to someone on the outside?

  Deuce smelled Rainey before he saw her. The familiar freshness of lavender mingled with the scent of fresh brewed coffee and wafted through the air.

  Looking up, he noticed she was dressed in clean work clothes, which meant she planned to go into the depot.

  “Good morning,” Rainey said as she poured a cup of coffee. “I owe you an apology for the way I acted last night.” She put her cup on the table and took the seat across from him. “An apology and a lot of answers to questions I’m sure you have. But before we start, thank you for putting covers over me, and for respecting my privacy. I’m not sure I deserved it.”

  “I’m just glad I could be there for you.” He took her hands and looked into her emerald eyes. “You don’t owe me an apology. Sometimes we all need the space to digest things. In my line of work, I know I do. There are times that you haven’t asked questions about a case when I know you wanted to.”

  “I have.” She squeezed his hands before pulling hers back and reaching for the sugar bowl.

  “I know you were upset when I took the box and purse to my office to be sent off to the state crime lab. I sensed you didn’t want to talk about it and probably don’t today, but I need to know about it so Danny can tell the crime lab what we’re looking for.”

  “I know. If you haven’t already figured it out, it was the one I was carrying when I walked away from the DA’s office. I left a few dollars inside, my identification and tossed it behind a trash can, thinking somebody would come along, dump the contents, take the money and it’d look like nothing more than a snatch and grab.”

  “Can you give me any idea who might have found it and who knows your alias and where to locate you?” His gut tightened just at the thought that he was interrogating her right at his kitchen table. “You got your new ID from someone. Who was it?”

  As Rainey stirred, her spoon hit the sides of her coffee cup again and again before she answered. “Some guy my friend Judith recommended. I thought I had all of my bases covered.”

  After giving him what he could only presume to be every detail about her plan, something she’d not told him before, he found himself thinking that obviously she hadn’t woken one day and decided she’d disappear. It was a well-made plan. Over the weeks he’d thought up dozens of possible scenarios, but transferring from terminal to terminal using several different modes of transportation at the Los Angeles International Airport before going to the car lot certainly wasn’t one of them.

  “Then the only person who knows your alias was the guy at the car lot and your boss gave you his name.” Deuce took a sip of his now cold coffee to give himself more time to think through things. “How’d she get his name and know he could be trusted?”

  “Judith was close friends with an undercover cop, so I figured the guy at the used car lot was one of the LAPD’s informants.” She bit her lip. “I’ve wanted so many times to contact Judith but I promised her that, unless it was life or death, I wouldn’t.”

  Deuce tensed his jaw in frustration because he wanted to tell her that this might well now be life or death, but he didn’t want to speak the words out loud he knew she was also thinking.

  “When I was in town last night, I told them that I wouldn’t be in until late. That I was working on a case. And I am, so let me fix us something to eat.” He tried to lift her spirits a little by adding, “I don’t want to take the chance on you burning my house down fixin’ breakfast.” He pointed a finger at her. “I know because you already told me you can’t cook. Why do you think I have Emily prepare meals for us?” He raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “Thanks.” She continued to stir her coffee. “I probably need to eat. Maybe it’ll settle my stomach down a little bit.”

  Deuce set about cooking bacon, eggs, and toast, by pulling a cast-iron skillet from underneath the cabinet. Shortly, the smell of bacon frying filled the air.

  “I have good news for you.”

  “I can use some.” She spoke in a soft voice, but her words were stiff.

  Deuce wasn’t sure if this was the best time to bring up Allura’s giving him the name of a doctor for PTSD, but he knew Rainey needed more help than he could give her right now. She needed a professional since the discovery of the purse had led to such a setback for Rainey.

  Another big concern was he still hadn’t told her about the second letter. By now, the state crime lab was probably ignoring Danny’s daily calls to see if they had preliminary results on the letters.

  Deuce turned slices of bacon and wondered how well Rainey was going to take having a second letter sprung upon her. As mad as a calf being branded probably wouldn’t compare to what he expected Rainey’s response would be. But he felt justified in keeping the knowledge from her to protect her.

  After giving it a second thought, he decided to bring up Allura’s recommendation.

  “Allura called and gave me the name of a therapist that specializes in PTSD.” He pulled two pieces of paper towel off the roll and put them on a plate for the bacon. “I’ve got his name in my billfold.”

  “Thanks.” Again, another bland, distant response.

  Think, Deuce, think . . . surely there’s something I can say that will make her smile!

  The sound of a jaybird’s call filtered through the open screen door.

  “Since you got to town I’ve been thinking about our school days together. Do you realize that if you hadn’t stayed on my ass to keep my grades up that I’d have never made All-American and certainly not have made it to the pros?” He didn’t expect an answer, so he went on. “Hell, I wouldn’t have even gotten into college.”

  He looked at her and sad, vacant eyes stared up at him.

  “You probably didn’t know how many times I thanked you. My Brainy Rainey, I think I played every game for you.”

  “And I have to admit that I crushed on you a bit.” A slight smile curved the corner of her mouth.

  “Crushed on me?”

  “That’s what I hear the kids say now—they crush on someone.” For the first time since she’d walked into the kitchen her voice didn’t sound fragile and shaky.

  “Hey.” Deuce walked to her and stood behind. Putting a hand on each shoulder, he leaned down and whispered, “You know what, I think I’m crushin’ on you now.”

  Rainey put her hands on each of his. “That’s good, ’cause I’ve never stopped crushin’ on you.” Looking deep into his eyes, she asked, “I’ve got a question and if you don’t want to answer, then you don’t have to.”

  “Shoot away.”

  She took a deep breath as if having to gather up courage. “Our senior year, you left the impression that you planned to ask me to the homecoming dance. Why didn’t you?”

  Her question stirred something deep inside as he recalled his conversation with her father. He though
t twice about giving her an honest answer but decided he’d kept too many things from her already. Finally, he answered, “Rainey, I called but your father told me basically that I wasn’t good enough for you and never to call again. So I didn’t.”

  “That explains a lot.” She bit on her lip.

  He kissed the top of her head. Deciding nothing else needed to be said, he went back to the stove and changed the subject. “Scrambled, I hope because if you order anything else I can promise they’ll be scrambled.”

  “Then scrambled it’ll be.” She got up and poured her coffee out and refilled both of their cups as if she’d heard nothing she hadn’t heard before. “Can I make the toast?”

  “Sure.”

  Relief flooded over Deuce just at the thought that maybe her knowing he had tried to call her all those years ago helped get her mind off the purse that had come in the mail. Whether she was willing away her bad memories or the thoughts of a good breakfast was doing it, he could care less as long as she was feeling better.

  Over breakfast they talked mainly about the things he’d brought her for her shop and her mood lightened. More than once she thanked him for the fixtures and fussed at him because he refused to tell her how much he’d paid for them.

  “I probably should go into my office today, so why don’t you stay out here and rest?” Deuce took both of their plates to the sink and scraped them.

  “And you’ll have someone sitting on the doorstep all day long?” she said matter-of-factly.

  “No. I haven’t had a 24/7 detail on you since the mysterious stranger staring at you through the window ended up being one of my finest.”

  She eased up next to him. “Thank you.” Rainey slid her arm around his waist. “You’ve been so understanding and I’ve acted so ungrateful to you.”

  Turning, he took her in his arms and said, “I know a way you can show me how thankful you are of me.” His lips pressed against hers, then gently covered her mouth. Raising his mouth from hers, he gazed into her eyes and was happy to see sadness replaced with yearning, passion.

  Standing on her tiptoes, she touched her lips to his, welcoming another deep, searing kiss that was disturbed by the sound of his iPhone.

  “Damn it.” He brushed a gentle kiss across her forehead. “I’ve got to take this.”

  “I know.” She began to run water in the sink, obviously still refusing to use the automatic dishwasher.

  “Danny, you got any news?” Deuce had been told that the state crime lab might have a prelim report for them sometime today. He’d said a dozen prayers that it would come in soon because he was worried about Rainey. Whoever Hunter had on the outside doing his dirty work for him seemed more deranged than the mass murderer himself.

  After hearing that once again Danny had been assured that the prelim test results could be in as early as tomorrow, Deuce said, “Stay after them, man. Did you get the purse and box off?”

  Danny reassured him that he’d taken the package to Federal Express in Amarillo himself and had just gotten back and knew he’d want the update on the letters.

  “We really need at least a prelim report on the two letters. I’d bet my bottom dollar that whatever trace they find on the letters they’ll find on the box. Keep me posted.”

  Pressing the end icon, Deuce looked up into eyes that brimmed with fire and ice, but her words were colder yet. “What do you mean ‘two letters’?”

  Deuce’s first thought was to deny there being a second letter because just within the last hour she had turned the corner back to normality. The reality . . . she didn’t need justification not to trust him, although the omission of the second letter might well give her enough reason.

  “Don’t you dare lie to me, Deuce Cowan.” Her brows drew downward in a frown. “I mean it, don’t lie to me. Was there a second letter?”

  “Come sit down,” he said.

  “No, Deuce. Every time you have bad news for me you want me to come sit down like it’ll make telling me easier. I want the truth and now.” Her words came out hard and very pointed.

  “Yes, there was a second letter.” He began to walk toward his office, half expecting her to pull him back by the nape of the neck like his mother used to do when he was caught doing something she didn’t like. “Come to my office. I have a copy.”

  Rushing past him, she stopped his progress forward. “Why in the hell didn’t you tell me? I thought I could trust you.” She spat the words out like someone had washed her mouth out with soap.

  “Because you were in a good place. You’d just gotten settled down after receiving the first one. I know I should have told you, but just couldn’t.” The look of disbelief on her face made him ashamed of his actions, but if being intent on saving her could be used as a reason maybe she’d understand.

  “It wasn’t your decision to make.” She turned and stomped to his study with him closely behind.

  After he logged on to his laptop, he pulled up the file with the two copies side by side. “Not to justify my actions, but this one came just a day or two after the first one. I wanted to get it off to Austin for examination as quickly as possible.”

  “Let me see it.” She sat down in his desk chair and stared at the words, without saying anything for the longest time. “There’s something not right about the second one. The words are so familiar, yet aren’t modern. Did you notice this?” She ran her fingers along the words: “I kill because I like to see the expression on their faces when they know they are about to die.”

  “Rainey, I’ve read each letter until I’ve memorized them, trying to figure out what they mean.”

  “It’s a mixture of classic writing and modern day. These words aren’t like the others. The syntax is different. There’s something I can’t put my finger on.” She minimized the screen and tried to log on to the Internet. “Damn, it’s still not connecting. Well, I thought maybe I’d find something there, but guess not. It’s going to eat me alive until I can remember where the words came from.” She looked up at Deuce. “And, I’m not mad at you. I was at first, but I realize you were doing what was in my best interest. I really do love you for taking care of me.”

  Putting his hands on her shoulders, he squatted down and kissed her on one side of her neck, then turned his attention to the other side. “I love you, too,” he whispered, then pulled up to his full height.

  “Let me try to access the Internet one more time. Maybe I put in the wrong code.” She sat down and got immediate access. “I think I was just too upset and put in the wrong password.”

  Deuce watched as she typed in several words, each connected with the plus sign.

  The screen flashed up with numerous links that included the words.

  “‘The Tell-Tale Heart’ by Edgar Allan Poe!” she almost screamed. “We had to read it in high school. Don’t you remember?” She stood up and threw her arms around his neck and gave him a long, lingering kiss.

  Damn, he didn’t want to admit that he couldn’t remember reading the story but if he had, after all these years, the words didn’t sound familiar to him. But if it took suddenly remembering to get another kiss, he could make himself recall each and every word vividly.

  “Oh, I remember now.” He kissed her long and hard. Whether he wanted to release her or not, he had to take care of business and then he could go back to kissing.

  “Got to call Danny.” He stepped away and picked up his phone and punched in his chief deputy’s number and hardly waited for his answer before he began, “Part of the letters came from ‘The Tell-Tale Heart.’”

  He stopped to listen to Danny say, “By Edgar Allan Poe?”

  “Yeah. Rainey and I had to read it in high school, but to be honest with you, she was the one who remembered the words. Got a job for you.”

  It took Deuce a few minutes to give Danny his assignment and to reiterate that he was to tell the warden at San Quentin that they were investigating a case and needed the information on Hunter posthaste.

  “Let’s go sit o
n the couch.” This time it was Rainey who made the suggestion.

  “So they’re going to check to see whether Hunter has access to anything by Poe.”

  He nodded. “Particularly in his cell. I know you heard but I want his visitor’s log. Do you remember the name of the lawyer handling his appeal?”

  “No. He hadn’t been assigned one when I left town. There certainly weren’t any clamoring to get the case, so I’m sure he had to wait for some unwitting lawyer to surface to the top of the pro bono list and get assigned the appeal. Or some lawyer who thinks he can make a name for himself by accepting the case came crawling forward.”

  “There’s nothing we can do now but wait. Tell you what. Let’s make a couple of sandwiches, take a blanket and blow off this day. Go down by the stream and sit under one of those big ol’ cottonwoods,” Deuce said.

  “Sounds well and good to me, but then your phone will ring and that’ll be the end of blowing off the rest of the day.”

  He tried on his best smile. “It’ll take Danny a while since it’s two hours earlier in California. I’ll leave my phone here and promise to work extra hard tomorrow to make up for it.” Since his smile didn’t work, he put up his little finger and said, “Pinky swear.”

  Rainey rested her chin on her hand. A bemused smile touched her lips. “That’s so girlish, it isn’t even funny.”

  Compared to the look on her face when she came downstairs he saw a hopeful glint in her eyes along with her smile.

  Taking his phone out of his pocket, he laid it on the end table, got up, and pulled her to her feet. “Turkey or ham?”

  “Turkey.”

  They walked hand in hand into the kitchen.

  While Rainey changed her shoes, Deuce made a quick call to the nursing home to check on his mother and let them know he wouldn’t be by until later in the day with the VCR and tapes if she was still upset over football. To his surprise, the clerk for Unit B wanted him to talk with the administrator, Elaine. While he waited for her, his heart pounded out of control thinking that something was wrong and they hadn’t called him.