Sunrise Crossing

by Jodi Thomas

  “Anyone up for hamburgers?” Clint offered.

  After some discussion over who would go and who would stay, they decided to all go in Clint’s pickup. Yancy and Tori claimed they didn’t mind squeezing into the small, windowless backseat in the cab. When they drove through the hamburger place, Yancy tossed a blanket over Tori that she complained smelled like a horse, and yet didn’t remove the blanket until they were driving away from the take-out window. Everyone in the pickup heard her laughing softly.

  They were all comrades now, coconspirators. The conversation flowed easily.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  LOW CLOUDS MOVED over the land, making the night as black as the bottom of a well. Gabe Santorno dropped from the oak tree that stood at the bend in the road leading up to a little farmhouse. He was getting too old to be climbing trees. Hell, maybe he should think about retiring. Only where did old warriors go when they could no longer trust their skills?

  Maybe Victoria Vilanie should be his last assignment. Only this time he wouldn’t be bringing the prize home. He wouldn’t be collecting the bounty. This time he would let it go.

  When she’d picked Yancy up at dusk, he’d been watching, waiting in the trees at the edge of Yancy’s few acres of land. Gabe guessed where they were heading and took a chance tracking them on foot. He couldn’t keep up with the Jeep she was suddenly driving, but there were few farms or ranches in the direction she was going. Her place had to be close if she usually walked the distance to visit Yancy.

  Sure enough, by the time he made it to the little farmhouse, the Jeep and a blue pickup were parked outside. He’d almost missed the house because of the old tree, but the oak offered him a great hiding place to watch. From the branches, he could see a mile in any direction.

  Gabe waited until full dark, then slipped like a shadow into the tree. In the daylight, someone might have seen him, but at night, he looked like one of the thick branches.

  The windows of the farmhouse were open, and he could see the two couples moving around. From their body language he knew they were definitely two couples, but the four of them were not friends.

  He waited, spending most of his time watching Yancy. Gabe couldn’t help but think about all the years he’d missed being in his son’s life. What had he looked like when he learned to walk? When he’d been a kid? When he’d been barely grown and had to go to prison. Gabe hadn’t been there to catch him as a toddler when he tumbled or help him through his teens or fight for him when he went to prison.

  He’d never been there, yet he could tell, somehow, that Yancy had managed to grow into a good man. The kind of man a woman like Tori might love.

  Maybe Jewel Ann had had something to do with that.

  He’d asked a few people about her but no one knew more than that she’d stayed with the Stanley widow until after the baby was born.

  Gabe wished he could ask Yancy. Maybe he knew. But the question would be far too personal. Besides, Gabe’s profession was finding people. When this was over, if Jewel Ann was still alive, he’d find her.

  Then, when he knew about Jewel Ann, maybe he’d tell Yancy who he was.

  Gabe was proud of his boy, and it was a kind of pride he’d never known. Even if he hadn’t been there for Yancy’s childhood, Yancy was a part of him. Maybe the only good part left.

  When the shots came, Gabe spotted their point of origin easily and was out of the tree and crawling over dry buffalo grass before the blast stopped, echoing in the night air. The shots weren’t aimed at the house or at him. Gabe knew what they were, though.

  Whoever was firing was trying to draw the people out. If it had just been a normal night, maybe the people would have stepped on the porch to see what was going on, thinking that maybe a car was backfiring or someone was shooting off fireworks.

  But country folks know the sound of gunfire. Yancy and the cowboy inside the farmhouse made sure they all stayed inside.

  In truth, Gabe had seen the ploy work a few times. People are naturally curious. They usually look out to see what’s going on. If the two couples in the house had stepped on the porch, the shooter would have known there were two women in the place. And if he was tracking Victoria Vilanie, he might not get a good view to ID her, but he’d have enough to know the house was worth watching.

  Information that Gabe remembered Charlie Watts providing echoed in his thoughts. Victoria’s dad had said he didn’t care if she was dead or alive. He wanted her back. For a quarter million, some of the bounty hunters might decide that dead would be the easier way. They’d make sure no one connected the bullet that killed her to them. Then, a few days later, they’d show up as if just arriving in town and identify the body.

  Gabe was almost to the neighbor’s fence when he saw an outline of a man running low to the ground. The runner reached the main road and turned toward town, his form blending with the brush and mesquite trees growing wild. The shadow knew what he was doing. He’d be invisible before any car lights could catch him. Like Gabe, he was in shape, able to run two miles.

  Car lights turned on the road from town. Gabe pulled back and disappeared in the grass. By the time the sheriff’s cruiser passed, lights silently blinking, the shadow traveling in front of him was gone.

  He moved deep into the night heading toward Crossroads. Tori and Yancy were safe tonight but Gabe’s fears had come true. Another hunter had found Victoria Vilanie’s trail and he wouldn’t stop until he snatched her up—or worse, killed her.

  As Gabe slipped into the back of the Franklin sisters’ house, he knew what he had to do.

  Find the shadowy hunter and stop him.

  Yancy was going to get the chance to be happy that Gabe never got.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  FIFTH WEATHERS LEANED back in his office chair and stared at Madison. Between roaming around Clint Montgomery’s place and checking on things at the office, they’d been hanging out with the sheriff for an hour. Sheriff Brigman had finally called it a night and gone home. Fifth got what he’d been waiting for—a minute alone with Madison.

  “Well, did you notice?” Fifth whispered, even though they’d both heard the front door close.

  She nodded. “But I don’t think Sheriff Brigman did. He never went in the house. I thought of mentioning it to him, but I couldn’t see that the news would have anything to do with the shots being fired half a mile away.”

  “Right. But I couldn’t get the obvious out of my mind. Three people at the farmhouse. The table set for four.”

  “And when you left me there, I couldn’t miss how every few minutes at least one of them glanced at the stairs as if they expected someone might come down. All three were helping hide something or someone.”

  “They were terrible at pretending,” Fifth said.

  “Maybe that’s because they’re honest people. They must have seen themselves as protecting someone. But from who? Surely not us.”

  Fifth grinned. “My first thought was that the shooter had gotten inside and was holding a gun on them, but Parker wouldn’t have set him a place at the table. Besides, if they’d been in danger, Montgomery would have told me when we went outside. Whoever was there was being hidden, protected.”

  Madison nodded as if she knew Fifth was testing her. “The professor, maybe. They could have all known him. You said he wasn’t in his room when you left the Franklin Bed-and-Breakfast.”

  “Yeah, but he could have gone to eat or visit with friends. I swear, the guy has been here a few weeks and he already knows more people in town than I do.” Fifth rubbed his forehead. “It doesn’t make sense. Why would three people, two of them I consider my friends, lie about there being someone else in the house? Why would they protect the professor from me? I sleep ten feet away from the man every night.”

  “I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure out who Dr. Gabe
Santorno is. I can’t tell if he’s a good guy or a bad guy. I just know he’s not who he says he is. I checked this morning. There is no Dr. Santorno at the University of Texas. If he’s lying about that, he’s lying about why he’s here.”

  “I say we bring him in and question him,” Fifth said.

  “You do a lot of interrogation?” she asked.

  “No. Most of the locals start confessing in the cruiser on the way to the office.”

  Madison laughed. “You read Santorno’s bio from his army years. I’m guessing he wouldn’t tell us anything he didn’t want us to know even if we tortured him. And remember, as far as we know, the man has done nothing wrong. Maybe UT canceled his class and he doesn’t know it yet, or maybe he’s just hoping to get the job next year. People stretch the truth all the time to make themselves sound better. If we give him a few days, maybe he’ll slip up and we’ll see who the man behind the professor mask is.”

  “Well, we can’t starve him out. He’s eaten enough at the Franklin sisters’ place to last until fall.”

  Madison stood, crossed her arms and began to pace back and forth, deep in thought. “If those three weren’t hiding the professor, then who? If they are honest people, like you say, they wouldn’t be harboring a criminal.” She turned and retraced her steps. “And doesn’t it seem strange that those three would be together. Maybe Parker and the rancher. They live next to each other. But Yancy? Why was he out there?”

  “They were about to eat dinner. Maybe he was hungry?”

  She ignored him and kept pacing.

  The third time she whirled to retrace her steps, she bumped into Fifth.

  He reached out and steadied her, but he didn’t turn her loose.

  “What are you doing?” She tugged on his arms, but he didn’t let go.

  “Stop thinking and relax, Madison.”

  When she shoved, he let go and slid his hands inside his jacket to keep them to himself.

  To his surprise, she didn’t move away.

  He figured now might be the only shot he got all night. Madison wasn’t the cuddle-up-and-talk type. “I love working with you. I love the way you look at every angle, but how about we take a break?”

  “Fifth, this is serious.”

  She was so close he could smell her hair, and every time she breathed, he prayed her chest would brush his chest. Her brain might be running full speed, but his had turned down another track.

  “So is this.” He leaned his head against her throat. “I love the smell of you. I love the feel of you against me, Madison. I love pretty much every inch of you. Do you have any idea how hard it is to wait until you make the first move?”

  She pushed him away. “I’m not going back to the bed-and-breakfast with you, Fifth, so we have to be all business. Hiding out in your room kind of feels like we’re at my parents’ house. Besides, I told my cousin Connie I’d stay with her if I had to sleep in town tonight.”

  “What about the Kirklands’ big house? They don’t even live in it. Quinn’s your relative, too. She’d let you stay there.”

  “Quinn doesn’t even know I’m in town. Besides, if I told her I was working with you on a case, she’d tell Staten and he’d tell the sheriff that I was staying over. If you came along with me, everyone would notice your cruiser parked out in front of Kirkland’s headquarters all night. Half the town knew we ate lunch together. If you stay with me at the ranch no telling what will happen.”

  “I get the point.” He stepped away. “It’s not like we’re star-crossed lovers. Everyone around wants us to get together, but I’d like to have some time to date before we have to pick out rings.”

  “Me, too. Besides, we don’t really have a case with Santorno. Just a person of interest. I doubt my department will let me take off much more time.”

  “How about, when this is over, I come to Wichita Falls and we have a real date. I’ll find a hotel room that looks nothing like your parents’ house.”

  “No,” she said.

  “No?” Fifth looked crushed. He’d thought she was as interested in him as he was in her.

  She grinned. “I have an apartment. Central heat and air, private balcony, plenty of parking, king-size bed.”

  He tugged her close. “I get off at five on Friday. I can be there by seven. You pick the restaurant.”

  She kissed him on the cheek. “How about takeout?”

  “Perfect.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Fulvous-orange warmth

  PARKER TALKED THE outlaws she seemed to be running with, Tori, Clint and Yancy, into eating their burgers over at Yancy’s house. She wanted to see what Tori had been doing. Sometimes talent transferred from one art form to another, and sometimes it didn’t. Clint went along with going anywhere except back to the farmhouse, and Yancy seemed to love the idea of showing off his place.

  They ate standing around a beautiful hand-carved bar. Parker could see the love Yancy had for the house in every corner of the place. After they stayed long enough to roast marshmallows for dessert, she and Clint dropped Yancy off at the retirement home.

  To Parker’s surprise, Tori climbed out, too.

  Parker had to bite her lip to keep from commenting, but Tori was an adult. If she wanted to spend more time with Yancy, that was up to her. They’d all had a tense night with first the shots and then having to hide Tori from the deputy.

  When Parker watched Yancy take her hand as he and Tori ran for the side door of the office, she grinned. Maybe Tori just needed to be held tonight. Parker couldn’t help but notice the way he’d looked at Tori all evening. Like she was treasured. Like the little artist was the most important person in his world. As they disappeared into the building, Parker couldn’t help but smile. Maybe it was time for Tori to have a little peace in her life.

  Clint left the truck in Park. He reached over and took Parker’s hand. “She’s safer here,” he said, as if he knew what Parker was about to say.

  He’d done a good job of blaming the shots on men out hunting on his land, but now she knew he had the same fear she did. Maybe whoever was out there was looking for Tori. It made no sense, but she had a feeling they both knew that somehow the shots and Tori’s hiding out at her place were related.

  “Tell me about her,” Clint said. Then, before she could start, he added, “Whatever you say won’t affect one thing. I’ll still keep her secret if that’s the way you want it. I’m guessing she’s not on the run from the law or you wouldn’t be putting her up at your place. And somehow I doubt she’s a serial killer.”

  He pulled her hand toward him. “I just need to know the truth, Parker. If it comes to a fight, and after tonight I think it might, I want to know what I’m fighting for because I plan to be standing next to you when trouble comes.”

  “All right. I’ll tell you as you drive home.”

  Without a word, he put the truck in gear and turned toward her place.

  Parker relaxed. As Clint drove home slowly, she told him Tori’s story and he listened, asking questions now and then. By the time they were back at her house, he had a plan. “All Tori has to do is call in. The police. Her parents. The press. Once she does the reward is gone, and so will be anyone looking for her. If she’s no longer missing, no one will be looking for her. She doesn’t have to tell her parents or even the police where she is. Just that she’s safe and living where she wants to be.”

  Parker shook her head. “If she talks, someone will find out. What if her parents show up? What if your ranch is overrun with reporters? The press loves stories about writers and artists who they think go nuts. They’ll talk about it on air, claiming she must be on drugs or imbalanced. Just calling in seems the right thing to do, but it’s not that simple.”

  “I could post a sign saying trespassers on the property are shot on sight. But it sounds like
her parents might try to prove she’s not in her right mind. After talking to her, even I can tell she’s sane, but it sounds like her stepdad might already be spinning his own story. That could be bad for her.”

  They walked into her house talking easily now. He helped her with her coat and hung it on a peg by the back door. She turned on the stove and heated water for tea that she doubted he’d drink.

  After they tossed the untouched dinner and cleaned up, they sat on the couch and ate one of the desserts. They kept talking—really talking—and in the end both agreed that Tori’s presence should be kept quiet. Somehow they’d find a way to settle this, but both thought it would be best if she would remain the invisible artist holed up in Parker’s hideout.

  Neither talked about what had happened at Clint’s place a few nights before. For Parker that kind of tender loving couldn’t be put into words. She’d never known a man could make her feel so totally alive even though she’d known from the first that it was just a one-night stand. He’d never mentioned more and she refused to draw him in with promises of a life together when she knew there might not be one.

  He made no effort to touch her while they sat on opposite ends of the couch, but Parker remembered every detail of their night, every touch, every kiss, every time he’d made love to her as if he’d been starving for her for years. It wasn’t just sex. It was loving. The kind of full-out, complete loving that she’d never known. Despite what he’d said about wanting a fling, she had a feeling it would be all or nothing with Clint if she let what they’d started continue.

  Only she couldn’t. She had a date with a doctor in Dallas as soon as Tori’s life was settled. A date with death perhaps, even though the doctor hadn’t said the word cancer.

  Looking at her cowboy, Parker wished for more. If he said he’d stand with her and fight to help Tori, she knew he would. That was all she’d ask for.

  Her body ached for his nearness, but she couldn’t go to him. Somehow it would be surrendering to need, and Parker wasn’t built like that. She would not get any more emotionally involved. It wouldn’t be fair to him. It wasn’t her nature. She didn’t have the time. It was better for them both if she ended this with one perfect night shared together.