Dreaming of a Hero (Heroes Series Book 2)

by Lyssa Layne

  “Yeah, looks good.”

  “Where’s Alan?” Mike poured the eggs into the sizzling skillet. “Do you think he wants to come up, too?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. He said he was going to take care of something, but he didn’t tell me what.”

  “Dianna went to pick up Brent. When they get back let’s put our heads together and see if we can figure out what happened to Wendell Wallace.” Mike looked at Mallory. “And Mallory, too.”

  “Brent left. He shouldn’t have. He wasn’t—” She frowned.

  “Feeling well?” Mike supplied. “He didn’t look good this morning.”

  “No.” Shelby picked up her fork when he set her meal in front of her. Clearly, she didn’t want to discuss Brent’s health in front of Mallory, so he dropped it.

  He made himself an omelet and the three of them sat in silence as they ate. No one had much to say. His own thoughts felt like Mexican jumping beans. He couldn’t concentrate on anything. His mind kept tripping between Wendell Wallace, Dianna, and Mallory. All of them needed his attention and he couldn’t decide which one was most important. His head said Dianna, but Mallory tugged at his heart.

  She looked so sad, so lost he wanted to wrap his arms around her. She’d come here to bury her father and she’d had one nasty encounter after another. If he fed her and she woke up refreshed in the morning, maybe things would look brighter. He hoped so.

  “Can I get you anything else?”

  “No. Thank you.”

  She was so angry with him. He looked at Shelby. “Do you have something stronger than Tylenol? Her fingers really have to be hurting.”

  “Yeah. There’s some other medicine in my first-aid kit down at the house. I’ll get it.” She stood up. “I’ll go now. Mallory, if you want to go into the library, I’ll meet you there in a minute.”

  She nodded.

  Throwing him a puzzled look, Shelby left.

  Without speaking to him, Mallory followed her lead and left him alone in the kitchen.

  ~*~

  Mallory sat in the library, alone.

  She’d left Mike with cleanup in the kitchen. He could just stay there and do the dishes and think that maybe he ought to treat a guest a little better. She was too tired to move or she’d leave tonight. Mike might think Dianna incapable of murder, but Mallory wasn’t as sure. Ordinary people could do crazy things if they were pushed too far. From what she’d seen of Dianna so far, Mallory knew she had a jealous streak. Maybe she had other issues, too. Like an uncontrollable temper.

  Mallory didn’t care. All she wanted was to get away. She closed her eyes for a minute. As soon as Shelby taped her fingers, she was off to bed. Even if the whole herd of horses galloped off into the desert, she wasn’t going to look. She would cover her head with her blankets and pretend she didn’t hear a thing. She set her glasses aside, leaned over, and laid her head on the armrest.

  Two people walked to the door and stopped.

  “She’s asleep,” Shelby said.

  “Good,” Alan replied. “Best if she goes to bed and doesn’t stick her nose into anything else. The less she knows, the better.”

  “She doesn’t know anything. I started to say something earlier, but I caught myself in time,” Shelby said.

  Mallory’s heart raced and it was all she could do to keep feigning sleep. What did they mean ‘it was better if she didn’t know’? Know what? Mind racing, she tried to remember what they had talked about in the kitchen. Wendell Wallace. The SRPL. Nothing jumped out at her. Did one of them know who had been in her room earlier? Shelby had acted completely clueless and Alan hadn’t been around. Where had he been all day?

  Mike joined them. “You’re here. Good.”

  Before they could tell him she was asleep, he walked in. “Oh, she’s sleeping.”

  Pretending to wake, she sat up and rubbed her eyes. She reached for her glasses. “I guess I drifted off.”

  Alan gave her a probing look, and she tried her best to look innocent. A shiver skittered down her spine but she met his eyes evenly.

  Shelby sat beside her and picked up her hand. “Let me see. Yep, you’ve got some jammed fingers here. I’ll tape them. That should help.”

  Mallory winced as Shelby wrapped her middle and index fingers with gauze, then white adhesive tape. They did feel better when she was done. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” She gathered her scissors and tape. “I got the pain killers. Here, take one.”

  Mallory took the little white pill from her, but placed it in her pocket. “I’ll take this just before bed. As tired as I am, I’ll fall asleep right here if I swallow it now. If I go to bed now I’ll be up at four in the morning, unable to go back to sleep.”

  “You’re probably a little worked up.” Mike turned his attention to Alan. “I’m sure Shelby told you, but we found a body.”

  Alan moved to the chair and he sat in it. “She did. Any idea on what happened? Shell said someone did in the guy?”

  “Yeah,” Mike said. “He was obviously killed and buried in a shallow grave.”

  “Who would do that?” Alan crossed his ankles and leaned back.

  “Apparently I did.” Dianna stalked into the room, Brent behind her. “At least that’s what the sheriff suggested when he questioned me for the last hour.”

  “He found you?” Mike asked.

  “It wasn’t hard. I drove in and went to my cabin. The sheriff knocked and I answered the door.” She looked as if she couldn’t believe her own words.

  “What did he say?” Mike took her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Whatever it was, we don’t believe him.”

  She snuggled against him for a minute, and Mallory had to force herself from rolling her eyes.

  Still in his arms, she looked up at him with an adoring expression. “I knew you wouldn’t think I killed somebody. Why would I?”

  Mike pulled her close again. “You wouldn’t.”

  This time she removed herself from his embrace. “Damn straight.” She looked at each of them in turn. “I did not hurt that man.”

  “Hey, we believe you.” Shelby frowned. “There’s not one of us here who thinks that for a second.”

  Mallory held her tongue. Maybe they all thought Dianna was a nice person, but she held her own counsel on the subject.

  “For the record,” Dianna continued, “I never met Wendell Wallace. I have no idea what he was doing digging around on The Cholla. And I darn sure don’t know who did him in, or why. The sheriff has some half-baked idea I know about some treasure map and I’m going around knocking people off for it. Where he’d come up with that idea, I don’t know.”

  “Di, she knows.” Mike shot a glance between Dianna and Mallory.

  She opened her eyes wide. “Knows what?”

  “I’ll tell you.” Mallory sat forward. “I know you snuck into my room today and replaced the map you took. Mike’s tried to cover for you. But look, you’re wearing the same outfit.” She had on a light blue T-shirt and jeans. “You didn’t even change.”

  Dianna looked at Mike with her big, innocent eyes that made Mallory want to claw them out. “What’s she talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the night before last, when you knocked on my door and lured me into the desert. I know all about how you and Mike cooked up your little plan to get me out of my room to take the map my father left me.” Mallory stood on trembling legs. She was tired of this whole mess. It was past time the truth came out. “Don’t deny it.”

  “You’re partly right,” Dianna admitted. “And some of what you’re saying is so far off it’s not even funny.

  Mallory snorted. “Which part?”

  “For starters, I didn’t lure you anywhere,” Dianna said. “I had nothing to do with you going into the desert. I went to bed after I saw you in the hallway outside Mike’s room, and I stayed there until morning.”

  “Tell it to someone who believes it,” Mallory said. Mike and the others might buy this dribble
, but she didn’t. Not for one second.

  Mike looked as dubious as she did. “I told you I saw Mallory’s map and that I thought it might be the answer to our prayers.”

  “Yeah, so?” She shrugged.

  “You said you’d help me get a look.” Mike stared at his feet.

  “I meant I’d find a way to ask her to see it, not that I’d steal it.” She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. “And I didn’t mean I’d get her to chase me off into the night.”

  “Then who did it, if not you?” Mike squirmed and looked up with guilt-filled eyes. “I thought—”

  “Not very highly of me.” She looked at each of them in turn. “Do you think I did this?”

  Brent didn’t answer. Before she could press him, Shelby spoke.

  “Heck no.” Tears formed in her eyes. “I knew you wouldn’t do anything so rotten.”

  Alan uncrossed his legs and placed his hands on his thighs. “I know you didn’t do it. I checked the horses and none of them had even been out of the corral. I think if anyone’s making things up, it’s not you.”

  Mallory gasped at his unspoken accusation. “Why would I go into the desert at night, stumble around and fall into cactus? For what purpose?”

  “I don’t know. But I think you invented the whole story,” he declared. “Maybe you took a late night walk, fell down, felt stupid and thought up the whole loose horse story to cover.”

  “I assure you I didn’t.” Mallory looked at each of them. Shelby studied her manicure. Dianna smirked at her. Brent focused on something on the wall behind her. Only Mike looked her in the eye.

  “I’m not buying that.” He held eye contact. “If Mallory says someone knocked on her door, then someone did.”

  “And someone did take the map.” Mallory wasn’t going to back down. She hadn’t imagined the horse and they weren’t going to make her think she did.

  “I did,” he said. “I told you the truth about that.”

  “But Dianna’s not telling the truth. I know it.” Mallory’s voice rose in desperation. “I saw her in my room today.”

  “Earlier you thought it was me,” he reminded her gently. “And your glasses were knocked off out in the desert so you can’t be sure of what you saw.”

  Mallory bit her lip in frustration. For a minute there she thought Mike was on her side. But he simply wasn’t going to believe her over Dianna and all his friends.

  “I’m going to bed.” She stood and marched with as much dignity as she could muster out of the room.

  Once in her quarters she gave into the frustration and anger and chucked her pillows cross the room. She didn’t give a damn what the others thought, but the look in Mike’s eyes had nearly undone her. She thought he believed her. Apparently not.

  He had more faith in his old friend than the woman he’d kissed only once.

  Her hand throbbed.

  Holding it, she remembered the little pill Shelby had given her. It was probably Tylenol 3, a heavy-duty pain killer, although it didn’t say so on the capsule. Shelby was a nurse, surely she wouldn’t hand over anything that was too strong. With her hand feeling like it was about to fall off, Mallory filled a glass from the tap and swallowed it along with the pill. Too tired to undress, she fell into bed. If a whole herd of horses came through here tonight she wouldn’t even care.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Visions of maps came and went through Mallory’s dreams. An Arizona state guide, the United States Atlas. All the roads led to The Jumping Cholla. No matter how hard she tried to go the opposite direction, the roads would twist and turn until she stood under the arch looking for Skeeter.

  She woke with a start.

  Her mouth felt so dry that she wondered if she’d swallowed half of Arizona. She glanced at the clock. She’d gone to bed so early it felt late, but actually, it was only a little after eleven. What woke her? The dreams.

  She stumbled to the bathroom and turned on the light. She drew a drink and sipped it. Feeling a little more human, she rinsed her face and ran a comb through her tangled hair. Her fingers felt better, thanks to Shelby’s pill. Laying the brush on the sink, Mallory looked in the mirror. Dark circles rimmed her eyes. Although she needed more sleep, she was wide awake.

  Walking back into the bedroom, she decided to pack. If she went ahead and put her things in her suitcase she could get out of here that much earlier. There wasn’t that much, but locating, folding, and storing would give her something to do for at least a while.

  She picked up her jeans and smoothed them. Had she really only been here a few days? It seemed so much longer since Mike had called her and told her about Skeeter. She’d learned virtually nothing about the man who fathered her. She’d come here hoping to know him, and all she had were more questions and half of a map people were willing to lie and steal to get their hands on. Were they also willing to murder for it? There had to be more to it than appeared. She tossed the jeans aside.

  Flipping on the light next to her bed, she reached for her purse half expecting the map to be gone again. But she found it. Drawing it out, she laid it on the desk and pulled up a chair. After putting on her glasses, she studied the creased yellow paper. Once again, she noted the same landmarks that now were familiar. Tortilla Flat and Goldfield among others. The ranch marked with the little X.

  But there were no clues to lead her to the Lost Dutchman, or any other treasure. Turning it to and fro, she looked to see if anything jumped out from a different angle, but nothing struck her. If the paper was so worthless, why had Skeeter carried it around sewn into his pant leg? He was eccentric, but was he that nutty?

  There was a big map in the library. Maybe there was something on it that would give her an idea. Not relishing the idea of running into anyone, Mallory bit her fingernail. Surely they would all be in bed. She folded the paper along the crease and slipped out into the hall. The lights were dim and nothing showed under Mike’s door. Creeping by, she almost jumped into the library.

  The map hanging on the wall was obviously old. About two feet high and four feet wide, it had been professionally framed. Showing no modern landmarks, the drawings depicted the mountains and the desert. There was no Apache Junction or Jumping Cholla resort. But Tortilla Flat and Goldfield were clearly marked. Taking Skeeter’s creased, yellowed paper from her pocket, Mallory rested it on the wall next to the bigger drawing. The landmarks were identical—with the exception of the ranch’s location.

  Looking so close her nose almost touched the glass, Mallory studied the empty spot on the big map. What had drawn the original homesteaders here? Had there been a mine or an Apache burial ground here at one time? Did the river attract them there? She didn’t think it had run this way a hundred or more years ago. If it were like most water in the desert, it had been diverted that way by modern engineers. But she didn’t know for sure.

  She took a step back. What had she expected? To find the Lost Dutchman marked with a big red checkmark in the middle of the page? Right on the ranch? She smiled, thinking of it. Wouldn’t it be funny if they had the gold right here under their noses the whole time? Unlikely, but funny.

  Maybe not that funny, actually. Something had drawn Wendell Wallace to the ranch. What? Did he have a map of the area with something on it, too? If so, what? Her mining facts were a little cloudy, but maybe what had drawn the original ranch owners to the river, if it were here, was the river itself. Didn’t gold miners need water for sluice boxes?

  Excited, she looked around. Surely somewhere in this library there would be a book about Arizona gold mining. Maybe one of them could tell her if there’d ever been a mine on this location. With a racing heart and damp palms, she began to search.

  ~*~

  Mallory looked up from her research. She’d hunted through every book in Mike’s library, but hadn’t found anything about a mine being in same location as The Cholla. She rolled her head from side to side and lifted her arms over her head. The grandfather clock showed it to be after one in the mo
rning.

  If she was going to keep this up much longer, she needed caffeine.

  Slipping into the hall, she glanced both ways. Nobody was about. She headed for the kitchen, when she noticed the kitchen door standing open and the light on.

  She peered around the corner.

  Brent stood with his back to her, the fridge door wide open. So she wasn’t the only one with an urge for a late-night snack. Moving in, she spoke. “Looks like I’m not the only one up.”

  He spun around, his shirt hanging open, the top button of his jeans undone. And in his right hand he held a hypodermic needle. “Get away from me.”

  She backed up as fast as she could. “I’m sorry.”

  He advanced, holding the needle aloft. “Quit slinking around here spying on people.”

  “Hey, I wasn’t spying. I came down for a drink and I noticed the light on. I looked in to see who was here. That’s all.” Mallory began to wonder what he was high on. “I’m not the one who’s in the kitchen in the middle of the night shooting up.”

  He laughed bitterly and waved the syringe. “If only. This is insulin. I need it two times a day, plus when my blood sugar spikes. Like now.”

  “Insulin? You’re diabetic?” She knew some diabetics didn’t appear sick. Brent, on the other hand, looked like he had a terminal illness. She’d never expected this.

  “Type 1 since childhood.” He waved the needle again. “Meet my old friend. Keeps me alive.”

  “That’s what they meant at breakfast when they asked you if you had taken care of things.” Mallory almost laughed now, remembering how her thoughts had run wild.

  “Yeah.” He looked at his bare stomach. “I don’t like people feeling sorry for me or babying me.”

  “So that’s why they were worried about you being out all night without your insulin. That’s why you dared the flood. If you stayed there you could’ve gone into insulin shock.”

  “You got it,” he said. “Face death by drowning or shock and coma.”

  “I’m sorry.”