by Toni Leland
They drove past the truck plaza and Julia craned her neck to look down the driveway toward Bud’s. His truck was parked right where she’d left it, but his old station-wagon was in front of the office. He was probably doing year-end paperwork. While Dillon drove down to the next road and headed toward her place, she rehearsed how she’d handle the scene. If he kissed her goodbye, she’d be fine. If not, she needed to be sure he knew the door was still open for the future.
The truck rolled to a stop and Dillon set the brake, then gave her a boyish grin. “Home at last.” He grabbed the door handle. “I’ll get your bag.”
Julia stepped down and took a deep breath of the cool, misty air. She could handle this.
Dillon fell into step beside her as they approached her door. “I’m going to stay down the road, then leave for Florida about three in the morning. You want to have some supper tonight?”
It was all she could do to keep from leaping into his arms.
“I’d love to.”
“I’ll be back around—Ginger! Wait!” He grabbed her arm.
Confused, she searched his face, then turned to see what had his attention. Nausea boiled up her throat and she couldn’t breathe.
Her front door stood ajar.
Chapter 26
Dillon leaned down and, before Julia’s horrified eyes, he pulled a small handgun from inside his boot. He rose, then guided her back away from the door.
“Stay here. I’ll make sure no one’s inside.”
He pushed the door wide open and stepped through. Julia struggled to control her breathing. Had Stephen’s investigators finally found her? Adrenaline coursed through her system and she began to shake. Which of her stupid mistakes had led them here?
Dillon came back out and nodded. “It’s empty. You can go in.” He slid the gun back into the ankle holster, then took her arm.
His voice was calm. “It’s okay, I’m right here. Looks like a grab-and-run.”
A robbery? That simple thought hadn’t crossed her mind.
“I’m sure they were disappointed. I don’t have anything to steal.”
Except diamonds. Her pulse quickened, then she glanced around and headed for the kitchenette. The cupboards were undisturbed, and the carton of oatmeal was at the back where she’d left it. As soon as Dillon left, she’d check, but it was unlikely the thieves had found her stash.
Dillon stood in the small living room, a perplexed look on his face. “Didn’t you have a television?”
Julia was by his side in three strides. Her breath froze in her chest and her heart thundered.
“Oh, my God, no!”
Dillon took her arm. “Hey, take it easy. TV’s are easy to replace.”
She jerked away from his grasp, panic clamping down on her throat. “No. You don’t understand. Oh, my God.” She crumpled into a chair and began to sob.
Dillon dropped to a knee and took her hands, his face contorted with worry. “Ginger, what’s wrong? Tell me!”
She gulped. “What if they come back?”
He squeezed her hands and shook his head. “Petty thieves don’t come back. They got what they wanted. You’re safe.”
She stared at him through her tears. “I’ll never be safe now.”
He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “Come on outside and get some fresh air. You need to tell me what’s going on.”
The mist had turned to rain, and Dillon shepherded her over to the truck and helped her up. A moment later, he faced her, a no-nonsense expression stiffening his features while he waited for her to explain.
Her voice came out on a squeak. “They took the VCR too.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well those are also a dime a dozen.”
She took a deep breath, trying to center her control. “All my identification papers were hidden inside it.”
Stunned surprise lifted his eyebrows. “Why on earth…what identification papers?”
“Birth certificate, Social Security card, marriage certificate, driver’s license.”
His eyes narrowed and a muscle twitched in his jaw. “All those things are replaceable…unless…”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she looked at him again, his blue eyes blazed with hostility.
She swallowed the growing lump in her throat. “I’m not who you think I am.”
“So I gather.”
Dillon waited, his expression impassive. His eyes held no hint of concern or sympathy. Julia’s heart lurched. This would be the most difficult thing she’d done in a long time. What she thought they had together might count for nothing when the truth came out. Would he turn her in? Or simply turn away. She blinked back tears that threatened to flow again. Was it even necessary to tell him?
He reached over and touched her arm. “Ginger, just tell me. I need to know.”
With that personal gesture, her fears crumbled. If for nothing other than her own sanity, she needed to bare her soul. She let out a long sigh and nodded.
“First, I really am hiding from an abusive husband. But he’s not in Florida and he’s not a low-life drunk. He’s a rich and powerful man who always considered me as one of his possessions.”
A sharp pain sliced through her chest and she caught her breath. All the horrific scenes with Stephen, his jealousy, his chameleon personality—they came flooding back like water through a broken dike. Dillon’s fingers squeezed lightly and she looked down at his hand, refocusing on the security of his touch, building a wall against the other images. She met his gaze, which was now attentive and sympathetic. She laid her own hand on his and continued her story.
“I spent most of our marriage wearing dark glasses, keeping my long hair over whichever side of my face was bruised. He had a lightning-flash temper and I never knew what little thing would set him off. Then afterwards, he’d be contrite and loving, buy me expensive gifts, pretend it was a minor thing. I learned to play along. I always had to forgive him two or three times, or face the prospect of another fit of rage.”
Dillon’s voice was gritty with anger. “Why the hell didn’t you divorce him?”
“He’d have killed me. He said more than once that if he couldn’t have me, no one could. I had no way to start divorce proceedings and survive long enough to get away.”
“But there are programs for situations like this, places for women to be safe while they—”
“I did all that. But it’s not an overnight process. They expect you to plan ahead and have alternatives while you seek divorce. It’s a wonderful service, but it wouldn’t work for me.”
Dillon withdrew his hand from hers. “How long have you been on the run?”
“A year in October.”
He cocked his head. “Why here in this god-forsaken place?”
Julia managed a smile. “It’s where the bus ended up.”
“Where did it start?”
She hesitated, terrified by what she was doing. “In Oklahoma.”
He gave her a peculiar look and she shook her head. “There’s more—a lot more—but I really don’t want to talk about it right now. But I will later.”
Dillon straightened up in the seat. “Well, I’m glad you told me. I don’t think you have to worry about your ID. The only way it’ll be found is if someone opens the VCR case for some reason, but I think that’s a real long shot.” He pursed his lips. “You’ll probably be nervous staying here tonight. We’ll get you a motel room so you can at least get a good night’s sleep.” He opened the truck door. “I’ll get your bags and lock the door.”
Julia watched him stride across the sidewalk and disappear into her apartment. She began to shake as the adrenaline drained away. Purging her conscience had been the right thing to do, and Dillon’s reaction confirmed she could trust him. If she needed anything right now, it was a friend.
Dillon tossed her bag in the back and climbed into the driver’s seat. Sliding the gear shift forward, he turned to her.
“So what’s your real name?”
&nb
sp; Ah, one of the missing pieces.
“Julia Dorsey.”
Chapter 27
Twenty minutes later, Julia dropped her bag on the floor inside the motel room. Dillon handed her the key and stepped back.
“I have some stuff to do. I’m sure you have a lot on your mind right now, so I’ll call you later and we can get some supper. Or I can bring you something if you don’t feel like going out.”
His expression was tentative, his eyes dark with questions he wouldn’t ask. Julia stepped up close and rested her hand on his chest, reveling in the warmth and security of connecting with another human being. She smiled, then kissed him lightly on the cheek.
“Thank you for everything, Dillon. I don’t deserve your kindness.”
He stroked her cheek. “You underestimate yourself. Secrets can be corrosive, but sometimes we just have to do whatever will save us.”
She nodded. “Call me when you’re ready for dinner.”
A minute later, she heard the truck pull away and she sat down on the bed and pulled out her cell phone.
“Casey? It’s Ginger…yeah, thanks, I had a great Christmas. How you doin’ out there? I thought I’d come by tomorrow and help out…okay, I’ll be there around nine…yeah, you too.”
She set the phone aside and flopped back on the bed. Dillon seemed confident that the lost identification posed no threat, and she had to admit that the probability of someone opening the VCR case was slim. Even if they did, how likely was it that the name on the papers would mean anything? Still…
She sat up. Better to seize the opportunity to protect herself than hope the situation wouldn’t happen. She’d better start looking for another place to live. She counted back the days since she’d met with Ace Anderson. How soon would she have that damned driver’s license? It would be hard to go house-hunting on foot. She’d swing by the shop tomorrow and check in with Bud. Maybe he’d know when Anderson would be back.
She peeled off the clothes she’d been wearing since before dawn, then stepped into the shower. The hot water pelted her head and shoulders, the sting revitalizing her, washing away the long, tense day, swooshing her worry down the drain. What had Dillon said about secrets? She smiled. He was thinking of his own deceptions, probably feeling a little guilty about it. Maybe he’d come clean now that she’d confessed. She drew her lower lip between her teeth, and a sudden chill ran across her wet skin. She’d only given him some of the truth before she’d panicked. How much more should she tell? Did Dillon need to know who Stephen was? Or about her horses? She took a deep breath and blew it out, the old anxiety creeping in. How much was too much information? And what would Dillon do with what he already knew?
“Crap!”
Dillon snapped the laptop lid closed and stood up. Why had he done that? Why did he have to go snooping into her life? Her old life was over. Why couldn’t he just accept her admission and let it go at that? He walked to the window and stood staring out at the streetlights reflecting on wet pavement. Stephen Dorsey was only one of the richest men in the country, and Dillon was consorting with his wife!
The rain grew heavy and Dillon turned away from the window to stare at the computer. There’d been dozens of hits on Julia Dorsey, but he’d only looked at the first one, which had been about Dorsey International and only mentioned Julia briefly. He took a step toward the computer, then stopped. He’d wait until after dinner. She’d promised to give him more information that he wouldn’t have to learn behind her back. He shook his head. How hard it must have been for her to construct a new life of lies and live them on a day-to-day basis. He snorted. He was just as guilty, though his had been a sin of omission, which was probably a good thing. She’d have freaked out if she’d known he had any connection with law enforcement.
“Speaking of which…”
He grabbed his cell phone and called a local car rental agency, then took a quick shower. Thirty minutes later, he signed the rental agreement for a small sedan, then headed down the highway toward the truck plaza. As he approached the access road that ran behind Bud’s, a semi swung wide and pulled into the service area of the truck stop. The name “Stafford Casket Company” was printed in bright blue letters spanning the length of the trailer.
Dillon cruised into the entrance and around the back of the building to where the driver had parked the rig. Pulling over, he waited while the driver climbed down.
“I’ll be damned!”
Dillon jumped out of the car and strode toward the husky black man locking his truck.
“Hey, Leon! Hold up!”
The man’s face widened into a grin and his eyes twinkled with mischief as he raised his hands in the air. “Don’t hold me up, boss. I got nuthin’ you want!”
Dillon chuckled and pumped Leon’s hand. “What’re you doin’ in these parts? You get caught in that sonofabitch blizzard last week?”
Leon rolled his eyes. “Lord, that one made a believer outta me.” He winked. “But I was stranded in D.C., so there was plenty to keep me busy.”
Dillon glanced briefly at the trailer. “When did you start working for that outfit?”
“This is my first haul. Picked it up outside the District. Got two more comin’ up too. They’re lookin’ for drivers, if you’re interested.” He jerked his head toward the restaurant. “Got time for coffee?”
Dillon nodded and fell into step beside Leon. “Sure, I’m actually on vacation right now.”
He tuned out the driver’s small talk and thought about this stroke of luck. First the chance heads-up on the activity around here, and now a concrete personal connection with someone on the inside track. He’d bet money that Leon had no clue what was inside his trailer. This operation would take some finesse, but one way or the other, Dillon would find an opportunity to have a look.
Leon’s conversation rambled a lot and Dillon had difficulty steering the man’s thoughts back into the subject of the casket company.
“So, where you headed with this load?”
“Right around here somewhere. I got the directions in the cab. I think it’s a distribution warehouse.”
Dillon nodded. “You said they were hiring. You got a contact number I can call?”
Leon pulled out his wallet and retrieved a rumpled business card. “I need that back, but you can copy the information.”
Dillon wrote down the rep’s name, phone, and the physical address, which he suspected didn’t exist, then handed the card back.
He took a big swallow of coffee, then sat back in the booth. “Where you headed after this?”
“’Nother load of coffins to someplace in Pennsylvania. I don’t have the details yet.”
Dillon’s brain was on fire. Leon was delivering a load and picking up another load. This could be it. Right here under his nose.
Leon looked at his watch, then downed the remainder of his coffee. “Gotta run. They was pretty firm that the delivery had to be on time. I have about fifteen minutes to find the place.” He stood up and smiled. “Good seein’ ya. Maybe we’ll run into each other again, ’specially if you start driving for this outfit.”
Dillon rose and they shook hands. “I’m thinking seriously about that.”
He waited until Leon had left the building, then hurried toward the door. The casket company truck was just easing onto the line road running north beside the truck stop. Dillon climbed into his car and drove to the stop sign, watching the trailer lumber down the road. He wrote down the odometer reading, waited a couple of minutes, then turned onto the line road to follow Leon.
The road was well-paved and arrow-straight like the thousands of roads that had been constructed along the delineations of land parcels when the territory was first settled. At one mile, another line road intersected and Dillon looked both ways to see if Leon had turned. In this vast flat land, one could see for miles. There was no sign of the truck in either direction. Dillon crossed the intersection and continued north. As he approached the next intersection, he saw a single story building
on the left, a structure that looked as though it might be a farm machine maintenance facility. Leon’s truck was backing up to one of the large doors. Dillon pulled over and watched. Only one other truck was parked at the building. Frustration crawled through his head. How hard would it be to get inside that place? A memory flashed through his head, another isolated building in broad daylight. Emotion crushed his chest. Even with a partner, they hadn’t been safe. It would be suicide to try to do this alone. Better to get inside the driver ring as a cover.
His phone rang and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He didn’t recognize the New Mexico number on the screen.
“Dillon? It’s Ginger.”
“How’d you get this number?”
A long silence. “I—it’s on my cell phone from the last time you called me. Is it okay to call you?”
He closed his eyes, working to neutralize his tone. “Sure, no problem. What’s up?”
“I’m ready for dinner whenever you are.”
Dillon glanced at the clock on the dash. It was well after six. Damn it.
“Oh, jeez, I lost track of the time. Listen, something came up and I have to be in St. Louis tonight. Can I have a rain check on dinner? I’m really sorry.”
Distinct disappointment colored her voice. “Sure. I’m beat anyway. Talk to you in the morning?”
“Absolutely. Thanks for understanding.”
He hung up and stared at the building. The other truck was pulling away from the loading bay. Dillon quickly swung his car around and sped back down the road toward the next intersection. Turning right, he cruised west, watching through the back window as the truck continued south toward the interstate.
He blew out a long breath, exhilaration and determination coloring his thoughts. After so long, he might finally solve this case. A stab of guilt seared through his head. But the only way to do so was to act now. He had to follow Leon to his next pickup. After that, maybe the agency would listen to the facts and Dillon could get some help to avenge Sal’s murder.