Perfect Family

by Potter, Patricia;

  Alex put his arm around her waist in the easy, accomplished way of his, guiding her inside. She stopped and looked at him. “My answer is final. I won’t sell.”

  Alex sighed. “The buyer has said he will increase his offer. He really wants that land.”

  Any lingering instinct to trust him was shattered. “And you think I should accept it?”

  “It’s far more than the land is worth, certainly a great deal more than the ranch will ever earn,” he said noncommittally. “It’s something to consider.”

  “I have considered it.”

  He nodded as they were greeted by the same maître d’ who had seated them before. She followed him, but she felt empty. Tired.

  It definitely was time to go home.

  Rain was falling even harder when they left. They ran for the car, then drove in silence back to his office, where she’d left her car.

  Alex felt the distance she’d put between them. It could be measured in miles rather than feet. Everything he’d gained in the past few weeks had been lost in a few moments. But Marc had insisted that he try again. The congressman just couldn’t believe that someone would turn down all that money. Her refusal, Marc had claimed, was “the romance of the moment. When she gets home, she’ll think about all the things the money can do.”

  Marc, who was usually very good at reading people, hadn’t a clue about Jessica Clayton.

  But then none of them had. Not a single one of them had thought she would turn down millions. And now he’d lost the one advantage he had. He’d seen the trust fade from her eyes.

  He drove to his condo. Perhaps he had let his loyalty to the Clementses overtake his usual neutrality. He’d liked Jessica. He’d liked her more than any woman he’d met. Probably for the reason she’d backed away. Her total lack of greed.

  Goddammit.

  He parked in the garage, then went up the steps and inside. He went right to the liquor cabinet, poured himself more whiskey than he usually did, and went out on the covered deck that overlooked the valley. Rain was like a curtain.

  He sipped his drink, then went inside and called Marc. “I don’t think she’s going to change her mind,” he said. “It was a mistake to even suggest it.”

  He listened for a moment to Marc. “Dammit, I’m not going to listen to you anymore. And she doesn’t know anything about those damned bonds. You can tell Cullen that as well.”

  Alex slammed the phone down. He felt dirty, angry, frustrated. This should have been so easy.

  Jessie couldn’t get the conversation out of her mind as she drove down the main Sedona road. It was dark, and the rain fell in sheets. She could barely see the line down the center of the road.

  She recounted each word in her mind. Damn Alex. Whenever she thought she might be able to trust him, he’d throw out another tidbit that made her reassess his role in all of this. They all thought they could manipulate her later by dangling temptation in front of her.

  She fumed. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, she would be home. At least she knew what to expect of Sol. She knew him. He knew her.

  She was still a stranger here. A stranger with something that everyone wanted. She felt betrayed. She felt empty.

  Jessie shook her head, telling herself to concentrate. She didn’t like driving in weather like this. She could barely discern the dividing line on the road. On a good day, it was a drive of twenty minutes or so; tonight it would take forty or more. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

  Lights coming from the opposite direction were diffused by the rain. They seemed to come right at her, and she instinctively swerved over to the side of the road. She fought the car for a moment, then found the road again. She breathed, and the trapped air in her lungs came out in a rush.

  She was not ordinarily a timid driver, but the narrow and winding road wasn’t that familiar. She leaned forward, trying to see better when she noticed a pair of headlights behind. Too close for bad weather. She looked for a place to pull over and let the car pass, but the road climbed here and there was only a dropoff on her right.

  Darn it, no one was going to force her to go faster than she felt safe. Once they got over this hill, the road leveled out again and stayed that way to the turnoff toward the Sunset.

  She felt a bump from behind, just enough that had she not had both hands glued to the steering wheel, it might have pushed her from the road. She speeded up just a little bit. She wanted to look back at the car behind her, but she didn’t dare take her eyes from the road in front.

  Another bump, this time a more forceful one. Not an accident this time. She was sure of that. Fear ratcheted upward.

  She speeded up again, aware of a sharp curve ahead. She remembered a sheer dropoff at the road’s edge. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. She fought down panic. Where exactly was that curve? Where was other traffic?

  She saw headlights coming toward her from the opposite direction. She pressed down on the horn, hoping against hope they would see a car too close behind her. But instead the oncoming vehicle merely splashed more water on her windshield, making it even more difficult to see. It did, however, have the effect of forcing the car behind her to back off.

  But once again she sensed the car creeping back up upon her. She shot a glance in the rearview mirror but only saw a dark blob. She couldn’t tell what kind of car it was, not even the exact color.

  Her knuckles whitened as she searched desperately for a place to slow and stop. But if she did that, what would happen? Did her assailant have a gun? Exactly how far would they go?

  She was coming to the long curve when she saw a dirt road go to the left and the faint glow of a light. A house. She made a sharp left turn, praying no one came in the opposite direction. The car started to spin, refusing to slow, missing the driveway and plowing through a fence before slamming to a stop in a ditch.

  She felt the impact of the air bag as it exploded like a hammer against her chest. She lost her breath, momentarily stunned. Slowly, she started to reason again, as the bag dissolved in a cloud of white powder.

  Fear clutched at her. Was someone out there? Would they come to finish what they had started? The rain was falling too hard, too loudly to hear anything. Lightning flashed nearby and the low roar of thunder rumbled across the valley.

  She had to get out. Her hands fumbled at the seat belt. Her fingers were like rubber, unable to function. Finally, the belt came loose. She tried to open the door. Thank God, it gave.

  She grabbed her handbag and the envelope with the wills in it and tumbled out, finding her feet sinking into mud. Then she saw a car stopped on the other side of the fence. Was it the car that had bumped her, that had tried to force her off the road?

  A man was coming around it, followed by a woman in a raincoat. Then she noticed it was a pickup, a truck. The aggressor had been in a car.

  Breathe slowly, she thought. You’re safe.

  She struggled through the mud. Her chest hurt. Her body ached. The man reached her. “Are you all right?”

  She wasn’t. She was terrified. She hurt. Her shoes were ruined. She felt herself giggling. That was the last thing she should worry about. “I think so,” she said. “Thank you for stopping.”

  Thank God they had.

  “Did you … see a car following me?”

  The man looked at the woman, then nodded. “I thought it curious he didn’t stop. People usually help each other out here.”

  “Did you see what kind it was?”

  The man shook his head. “I was watching your car. Come get in the truck.”

  He helped her over to the truck.

  She turned back and looked at the wreck. She realized she wasn’t going to go home tomorrow.

  She also knew that she would be staying where someone wanted to hurt her. This time, it was no tap on the head, or a mussed apartment.

  This time, someone wanted her dead.

  twenty-four

  Sarah reached for the phone when it rang. Halden had retired, and she was lis
tening to the late news. Ben was next to her, his eyes glued to the door.

  She’d thought about going to bed herself, but she wanted to wait up for Jessie. This would be her last night, and Sarah wanted to make sure all had gone well at Alex’s office. Alex, she knew, might well try to change her mind.

  But Sarah felt comfortable that Jessie wouldn’t do that. The girl had a stubborn streak.

  She’d wanted to tell Jessie everything, but everything would be too much. Perhaps when she got to know the family better, when she felt the rhythms of it, Sarah could tell her the entire truth. But then perhaps it was better that no one knew.

  Only Ross knew the entire truth now, and he’d been sworn to secrecy. She’d told him in a moment of agony, when guilt became a weight she couldn’t bear. He’d taught her how to live with it.

  But now the events that happened fifty years ago were like a writhing nest of snakes, each capable of destruction. She could only try to protect Jessie as much as possible. At least, none of the incidents had been deadly.

  She only wished she knew who was behind them. She could only guess, and guesses were worth nothing.

  So the ringing of the phone startled her. She received few calls this late.

  “Sarah?” Jessie’s voice. Shaken. Trembling.

  Sarah’s heart pounded. Her chest hurt. “Jessie? What’s wrong?”

  “There was … an accident and I’ve been delayed. I didn’t want you to worry. I’m going to call a cab …”

  “Where are you?”

  There was a silence on the other end for a moment, then a reluctant admission. “I’m not hurt, but a good Samaritan insisted that I go to the hospital.”

  “I’ll be there immediately.”

  Sarah put the phone down, stood, then grabbed a table to keep her balance. The world seemed to spin for a moment. She felt weak, dizzy. Ross. She would call Ross.

  She sat down and dialed his number.

  “Macleod,” he replied brusquely.

  “Ross, Jessie’s been in an accident. She’s at the hospital. Can you go to her?” Sarah wanted to go, too, but she received the impression over the phone that the last thing Jessie wanted was a fuss.

  “What happened?” His voice was rough.

  “I don’t know, but I talked to her. She said she was all right.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Sarah was left holding a dead phone.

  Ben whined, as if sensing something was wrong.

  “It’s all right,” Sarah said soothingly, but Ben started pacing restlessly.

  She heard Ross’s pickup roar onto the road. She closed her eyes and prayed Jessie was really all right. There had been too many accidents. Perhaps it was for the best that she was going home.

  Jessie saw Ross charge through the doors of the hospital. His hair was wet and mussed, his shirt partially unbuttoned, his shirttail out.

  She had hoped Sarah would come, but no one should be driving on a night like this, particularly a woman who might be ill. Might be. Now she was questioning everything about the family and everyone in it.

  Including Ross? If she didn’t, perhaps she should. Black was white, and white was black. She could no long decipher the signals.

  Her heart clenched at the thought as she’d waited in the waiting area. She’d planned to call a taxi, but someone at the hospital told her she might be waiting for hours on a night like this. She feared that worry might harm Sarah more than her knowing what had happened. The doctor also didn’t want to release her until a friend or relative came for her. A recent concussion. Now bruised ribs and other cuts.

  She hadn’t wanted to talk to Alex. Or Cullen. Suspicions swam around her head. Alex was the only one who knew where she was. No, the last person she wanted to see was the attorney.

  Jessie had thought about calling Ross herself but had hesitated. They hadn’t parted on easy terms. She also knew what happened to her senses when she was with him. Chaos. They became complete chaos.

  So she’d called Sarah.

  But as she watched Ross stride up to her, his brows furrowed, his mouth grim, relief filled her. Her resistence melted. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, to feel the warmth of his body and the protection of his arms. She didn’t care if her body betrayed her, or that her heart fluttered like that of a small bird.

  He came right to her and stood in front of where she was sitting. “You need a bodyguard.”

  “Yes.”

  He offered a hand, and she took it and stood, a groan escaping as she did.

  “Did the doctors say you could go?”

  “Yes. I’ve already taken care of the insurance. That’s always their main concern anyway.” She heard the wryness in her voice. A defense. A defense against her need for him.

  His expression didn’t change as his eyes studied her. She couldn’t even imagine what she looked like. Her slacks coated with mud, her blouse ruined by rain, her hair probably standing straight up. She’d been too sore, too dispirited, to even run a comb through her hair or check for lipstick.

  An angry glint frosted his eyes. “What happened?”

  “Someone ran me off the road. A few miles from the ranch road.”

  “On purpose?”

  “Yes,” she said. She was tired of looking for other explanations, tired of making excuses for accidents that were not accidents.

  He reached down and touched her, then offered her his hand. When she stood, he drew her close to him. “I want to hold you,” he said, “but I’m afraid I would hurt you.”

  The confession stunned her. Not that he was afraid he would hurt her, but that he admitted wanting to hold her.

  Ignoring the pain lingering in her chest, she moved even closer to him. She wanted the warmth and comfort of his body.

  His arms went around her so gently, so tenderly, that she barely felt them. She just leaned into them, feeling safe for the first time that evening.

  Then and only then did he ask, “Do you know who tried to force you off the road?”

  She shook her head. “It was raining too hard. I only know it was a dark car.”

  He swore softly. “What do you want to do?”

  “Go back to the ranch,” she said. “I’ll have to contact the car rental agency in the morning. I have a flight tomorrow, but …”

  “I’ll take care of everything,” he said curtly. But she knew the anger wasn’t aimed toward her.

  Which meant he wanted her to leave. But remembering the burglaries, she wondered whether she would be any safer in Atlanta. But why? If something happened to her, her share of the ranch would go to Sarah and there would be no question of a sale. And it couldn’t be the darn book. No one knew anything about it but Sol. He was the only person she completely trusted at the moment.

  Still, she wanted to trust Ross. And did. Instinctively.

  She kept telling herself, though, that he too had a motive to harm her. If she died, Sarah would have her share and there would be no question of a sale. But how would he know about her new will? For that matter, why would anyone try to run her off the road at this point? Had Alex called someone about the will? Or had someone been following them, someone who didn’t know she’d left her share to Sarah?

  Her head hurt with all the possibilities.

  She needed to back away from all of them. She should go to the police. But then what would she say? What proof did she have? A box falling on her? Someone in too big a hurry on the road? Becoming lost? A “feeling” that her room had been searched? The burglaries back home were in a different jurisdiction.

  And her suspects: a congressman, a banker, a respected rancher.

  The police would laugh her out of the room. Or go after Ross.

  He tipped her chin and looked into her eyes. “I can drive you and Ben to Phoenix tonight.”

  She was too tired and too sore to go anywhere. She shook her head. “I don’t think so, but thanks.”

  He put an arm around her and headed her toward the door. “I think you need a
hot bath. And something to help you sleep.”

  “I already have that,” she said with wry humor. “A prescription left over from my last visit here.”

  He didn’t say anything until they got out to his pickup, then he helped her inside. “Why don’t you and Ben stay with me tonight?” he said. “I have an extra room, and I’ll be nearby.”

  It sounded like a very good idea. A marvelous idea, in fact. After her adventure in the attic, she no longer felt that safe in the main house. Why then did she feel she would be safe with him?

  The simple fact was, she did.

  When Ross settled his long body into the seat, he looked back at her. “Can you even take a guess as to who it might have been in the car?” he asked again.

  She shook her head. She clutched her handbag closer to her. She’d tucked copies of the will inside. She wanted to tell him about it, but …

  Her life was full of buts and ifs. She hated it. For a moment, she even hated the Sunset.

  “Could it have been Alex?”

  “No, it wasn’t that large a car,” she said.

  He was quiet then for a while, until they started along the curve where the bumping had started. “Where did it happen?”

  “Probably about five miles from here. There’s a dirt road to the left, leading to a house. I tried to turn in there, looking for help, but my car went into a spin and hit the fence. The air bag exploded, and then I don’t know what happened. A couple came along in a truck like yours. That might have scared off whoever it was.”

  They rode in silence until they reached the spot. “There,” she said, pointing to where part of a fence had been torn down. Rain had filled in the tread marks, and the dark rain-slicked road hid any skid marks. Her car was gone, apparently pulled out by a wrecker. She didn’t even know where they would have taken it.

  Suddenly, everything crowded in on her. So much to do. Accident reports. Car retrieval, no doubt a battle with the car agency and insurance company. And the feeling that she wouldn’t feel comfortable driving alone again.

  She felt something wet rolling down her cheek, and it wasn’t rain. She moved over to the far side of the seat and looked blindly outside. She didn’t want him to see the tears, to sense her fear, her bewilderment. Her sense of loss.