by Linda Warren
“As I said, just forget about it.”
He reached for his hat. “Sorry. I can’t do that.”
“Brodie…”
He wasn’t listening. He was already out the door.
W HEN A LEX GOT THE RESULTS , her first thought was Brodie. How was he taking it? She felt responsible for the whole mess, even though she was only doing a job. Mrs. Braxton had already found Brodie and if Alex had turned down the case, another investigator would have taken it. Maybe Buck was right and she was too soft-hearted.
She would give Brodie time before she contacted him. By tomorrow she had to let Helen know. She couldn’t put it off any longer.
Buck walked into her office. “You did a great job sniffing out info at the beauty shop and the spa on the Cryder woman. She’s a fine piece of work.”
Was that praise? She could hardly believe her ears. She flexed her fingers. “It’s amazing the information you can get while getting your nails done.”
“I’m going to put a steak on the grill tonight. You going to be home?”
“Yeah,” she replied, surprised at this offer. They usually did their own thing.
“I’ll put another steak on. See you at home.”
She wondered if the heat was getting to him. He didn’t seem like Buck at all.
Later, at home, she made a salad to go with the steak and baked potatoes. Buck wouldn’t touch the salad, but she liked it.
Cutting into her steak, she asked, “What do you think makes women like Mrs. Cryder commit such a heinous crime?”
“Greed.” He dumped Tabasco sauce on his meat. He put it on everything, even his eggs. “She found a rich man and decided to get rid of her family. If the police had believed it was a robbery gone bad, she would have gotten away with it.”
“People do strange things sometimes in the name of love.”
“It’s greed and selfishness, not love.”
She wouldn’t debate that. She was just glad they were talking. On a whim she decided to share the Braxton case with him.
“You remember the missing baby case I was working?”
“Sure. A waste of time,” he replied around a mouthful of food.
“No, it wasn’t. The man Mrs. Braxton believed was her son really is her biological son.”
He stopped chewing. “You got to be kidding.”
“No.”
Buck took a swallow of his beer. “How old is this man?”
“He’ll be forty in October.”
“Why in the hell does the Braxton woman want to tear apart his life now?”
Alex was taken aback by this reaction. “Because someone stole her baby and she has to know that he’s alive and well.”
“Doesn’t she realize what she’s doing to his life?”
“Buck,” she said, trying to reason with him, “losing a baby is a traumatic thing, something a woman never gets over. Even though Mrs. Braxton was able to go on with her life, her missing son was always at the back of her mind. That’s why Brodie Hayes’s photo in the paper triggered her hope again. She’s lost two other sons. Brodie is her only living boy. The need to see him is never going away.”
“You women have all these emotions that us men just aren’t equipped with. We look at the facts. Once you get the emotions involved everything goes to hell.”
“I get involved. I admit that. I’m more sensitive than I should be for a cop or a private investigator.”
He pointed his knife at her. “You get that from your mother.”
They never talked about Joan and she welcomed this opportunity. “My mother was sensitive and caring?”
“Damn right. Waterworks was a regular display and when it was that time of the month, hell, I stayed out of the house.”
“Did you ever hold her and tell her you understood?”
His eyebrows knotted together like a rope. “Hell, no, ’cause I didn’t understand why every little thing made her cry.”
“What did she cry about?” She might be pressing her luck, but she wanted to hear more.
“When I didn’t call and tell her I was going to be late. I was a cop and couldn’t call her every few minutes. She cried when I forgot her birthday, and the waterworks lasted a week when I forgot our anniversary.”
“She had reasons to cry. That’s just plain insensitive.”
“But that’s me, girl, and you know it. Your mother knew it, too, when she married me. Don’t know why she wanted me to be someone I wasn’t. Don’t know what she saw in me in the first place, but I was so crazy about her that it didn’t matter. She was different than I was. Maybe that’s why I fell for her. She was this gentle, soft-spoken woman who never saw the bad in anyone.”
“Maybe she saw some good in you.”
“Could be, but she had to look hard for it.”
Her heart filled with joy at this wonderful glimpse of her mother. Alex had heard precious little about her all these years.
“You never talk about her.”
He shrugged.
“A man thing, huh?”
“You got it. Talking is a woman thing.” He took another swallow of his beer. “Speaking of women—when the hell is Naddy coming back?”
“When she runs out of money.”
“God. I shouldn’t have to raise my mother.”
“Naddy can take care of herself. You told me that.”
“Mmm.”
There was silence for a moment and it wasn’t uncomfortable like in the past. That easy companionship felt surreal since she’d wished for it so many times as a kid.
“So how did Mrs. Braxton take the news that this Brodie Hayes is her son?”
Alex laid her fork down. Back to business. “I haven’t told her yet.”
“Why?”
“I’m giving Brodie time to accept the situation.”
His eyes narrowed. “Brodie? Are you involved with this man?”
She met his eyes squarely. “By involved do you mean attracted to, sleeping with or generally making a fool of myself?”
“All of the above,” he snapped.
“I just feel this man’s pain. That’s all.”
“Good grief, you’re just like Joan. Get your head on straight. We run an investigating agency and our clients put a lot of trust in us. Mrs. Braxton is our client and she is your first priority. Get on that phone and call her this instant.”
She slowly stood, throwing her napkin onto her plate. “This is my case and I will handle it my way.” She gritted her teeth and counted to three. “A lot of lives will be changed when the DNA results are revealed so I’m taking it slow. If you have a problem with that, you can take me off the payroll.”
“Now you listen here…”
Alex grabbed her purse and headed for the door. So much for a nice evening. Buck had turned into his usual controlling, manipulative…No wonder her mother cried a lot. She felt like crying now. But she wouldn’t.
She jumped into her Jeep and sat for a moment. How could one man make her doubt every decision she’d ever made? Buck wasn’t getting to her this time. She’d made the right decision concerning Brodie and Mrs. Braxton.
As she backed out of the driveway, she wondered how Brodie was taking the news of the second test. Pulling to the curb, she poked out his number. No answer. He either wasn’t home or not taking calls. She had to tell him she was informing Mrs. Braxton in the morning of the DNA findings so she headed for the freeway and Mesquite.
Chapter Six
When Alex drove up to Brodie’s ranch, everything was in darkness except for a couple of spotlights at the corrals. Through the b
eams of the light, she saw the dogs running toward the Jeep. She got out.
“Hey, guys, where’s your master?”
One of the dogs barked and she had no idea if it was Buck or Butch. Since he was the mouthy one she decided it was Buck. Sensing she wasn’t a danger or threat they trotted back to the barn.
She breathed in the fresh country air. A coyote howled in the distance and an owl hooted. She wasn’t used to living in the country. The hum of traffic, horns honking and curse words hurled through the air were the usual night sounds in her world. But here was a peacefulness as comforting and pleasant as a hug from an old friend. She liked Brodie’s ranch.
Her thoughts came back to him. Where was Brodie? He’d gotten the report so what would a stubborn hardheaded cowboy do?
Go home to confront his mother. She crawled back into the Jeep and reached for a phone book she kept in the backseat. Actually, she had several books for different towns around Dallas. They were very useful for finding people and places quickly. Flipping through it she found Claudia Hayes’s name and her address. Great. She knew the street. It was in a subdivision not too far away.
Thirty minutes later she drove by the house. Lights were on and the garage door was closed. No big white truck in sight. She drove by once again to make sure she hadn’t missed it. Brodie wasn’t there.
She wasn’t sure why she had to find him tonight, but she was compelled to confront him. The second test had to have hit him like a ton of bricks. Where would he go to nurse his wounds? Where would a cowboy go when he was down?
A bar. A honky-tonk, good-time bar.
She grabbed the phone book again. There were several places in Fort Worth where cowboys hung out, but she was betting that Brodie hadn’t gone that far. Stopping for a light, she thumbed to the yellow pages and ran her eyes down the list of nightclubs and bars. Good grief. This could take days.
How could she cut down the list? Reaching for her cell phone, she poked out a number.
“Hey, Dudley, this is Alex.”
“Hey there, good-looking. What can I do you for?”
Dudley was one of her information sources. He knew everything there was to know about Dallas and Fort Worth, including some things he shouldn’t know.
“I’m looking for a bar or nightclub in Dallas where cowboys hang out.”
“Ah, honey, those cowboys’ll do you in. They love their horses more than they’ll ever love a woman.”
“Don’t be asinine. This is business.”
“Mmm. You got a pencil and paper?”
Alex dug in her purse, turned a corner and pulled to the curb. Dudley spouted out several clubs and she marked them in the book.
“Thanks, Dud.”
“Now, honey, if you want a good ride, look no further than Dud the man.”
“You just never give up.” Alex laughed. Dudley was her father’s age, but he was always coming on to her. It was one of his quirky habits and she always ignored him.
“Not when there’s a pretty lady involved.”
“Good night, Dudley.”
She heard his laugh as she clicked off.
B Y THE TIME she found the fourth bar and Brodie’s truck wasn’t there, she was beginning to wonder if she had him pegged wrong. Maybe he wasn’t licking his wounds. Maybe he had accepted the fact that DNA didn’t lie.
That wasn’t her impression of him, though. Brodie would not take this well. The fifth bar was Boots and Spurs and she drove around the block, looking for the truck. Bingo. There it was. Her instincts were right. Another truck backed out and she took the parking spot.
Now what? She could wait for him to come out or go in.
She slung her purse over her shoulder and got out, making sure her gun was within easy reach. Not that she planned on using it, but going into a bar alone after midnight was always a risk.
Opening the door, she stepped into the dimly lit, smoke-filled room. A Willie Nelson song played loudly on a jukebox and couples moved around the small dance floor, clinging to each other. Other couples sat at tables and booths. Several cowboys were bellied up to a horseshoe-shaped bar. Every cowboy had his hat on. Evidently drinking and dancing did not require a cowboy to remove his hat. She spotted Brodie at the end of the bar with a brunette leaning in close, talking to him.
She started to back out, but stopped. The brunette kissed his cheek and walked to a table. Alex weaved her way through the crowd to him. A cowboy stopped her.
“Hey, there, blondie. How about a dance?”
“No, thanks. I’m here to see someone.” He followed her gaze to Brodie.
“You’re out of luck, blondie. Brodie ain’t in the mood tonight. Get my drift.” He winked.
“Thanks for the information.” She winked back and pushed past him to Brodie’s left side. He didn’t turn, just kept drinking a beer.
“Hi,” she said.
“I told you I’m not…” His words trailed off as he saw who was talking to him.
“Well, if it ain’t my favorite P.I.”
“Could I speak with you, please?”
The music was so loud she wasn’t sure if he’d answered or not, but from the look in his blue eyes she knew what his answer was.
“Another beer, Joe,” Brodie said to the bartender. “And bring one for the lady.”
“No, thanks,” Alex quickly replied.
Brodie pushed back his hat and turned to her. “Lady, I figure I’m all done talking.”
“This’ll only take a minute.”
“I don’t have a minute.” Brodie glanced at the bartender. “Joe, where’s my damn beer?”
“Sorry, I’m not serving you anymore, Brodie. You’ve had enough. I suggest you get someone to drive you home.”
“Hell, Joe, when did you get a conscience?”
“Go home, Brodie.”
Brodie pulled his hat low over his eyes and strolled toward the door. He bumped into several people and they moved out of his way. Alex followed him out into the warm night air. Reaching into his pocket for his keys, Brodie stumbled into a truck. Alex knew she couldn’t let him drive in his inebriated state.
When he managed to fish out the keys, she grabbed them.
“Hey. What do you think you’re doing?”
“You’re not driving in your condition.”
“Like hell.” He made a dive for the keys, tripped and fell against her. Under his weight she staggered backward into a vehicle, managing to keep them both upright. He was heavy, but something about his weight on her body and his musky male scent sent her senses into overdrive.
“God, I’m drunk,” he mumbled, his breath fanning her hair.
“Yes, you are,” she agreed. “Try to stand and I’ll drive you home.”
“You smell good—like ripe watermelon in the summertime.” Not the most flattering of compliments, but his whiskey breath felt like a kiss on her heated skin.
“Try to stand,” she said again, ignoring her feminine reaction.
He placed one hand on the truck and pushed upright.
She took his arm. “Come on. My Jeep’s over here.” Without one word of protest, he followed her. She opened the door and he slumped onto the seat, his feet still on the pavement.
“Brodie, put your feet inside,” she said, but he didn’t respond.
She picked up his boots and swung them around. Problem—his legs were too long and she couldn’t wedge them in. Holding his legs with one hand, she reached for the seat-adjuster knob with the other. The seat slid back. She still had a problem.
“How long are your legs?”
He had a silly grin on his face and she wasn
’t sure he was conscious. Finally she managed to slide the boots inside. He then scooted up.
“Now you help.”
He leaned his head against the head-rest and by his steady breathing she knew he was out cold. Leaving the door open, she ran back inside and told the bartender they were leaving Brodie’s truck for the night.
Hurrying outside, she closed his door and jumped into the driver’s seat. All the way to the ranch he never woke up. When they arrived, she drove as close to the back door as she could get. Getting him out of the Jeep and into the house was going to be another problem.
She opened his door and shook him. “Brodie, wake up. You’re home.” She did that three times before he stirred. “Stay awake,” she said, pulling his feet out. “We have to walk to the door. Put your arm around my neck.”
He drifted back to sleep.
“Brodie,” she shouted.
He blinked.
“Try to stand and put your arm around my neck. And stay awake.”
After a couple of attempts, he managed to get to his feet, his body swaying back and forth. She grabbed him and he gripped her around the neck. Slowly they made their way to the door.
It was locked. Damn. She heaved a deep breath and loosened her hold on him so she could dig in her pocket for his car keys, hoping his house key was on the ring. The dogs came to investigate, barking at a slumped Brodie.
“Hush,” she said. Since it was dark she didn’t have a clue what was a car key and what was a house key. Maintaining her hold on Brodie, she used the trial-and-error method. The first key wouldn’t fit. The second worked. She felt like cheering.
Pushing the door wide, they half staggered and half walked inside. She kicked the door closed with her foot. The house was in total darkness and she had no idea where the light switches were.
Brodie’s weight became heavier, as did his breathing. “Stay awake,” she said, feeling on the wall for a switch. After several clumsy tries she found one and flipped it. Light lit up the breakfast room. After the darkness it took a while for her eyes to adjust, but now she could see where they were going.