Only in Texas

by Christie Craig

  “Answer it. Maybe that cop finally pulled his head out of his ass and discovered who killed Jack.”

  She doubted that, but who was she not to hope? She hit the button. “Hello?”

  “Where are you?” Dallas demanded. No hello.

  No apology, either. She recognized his angry tone. He’d used it on her last night when she’d thrown the eggbeater at him.

  “Nana picked me up. I’m borrowing her car.”

  “You can’t just disappear like that,” he said.

  “I didn’t. I told your bookie…” She paused just so he understood what she meant. “And I asked him to tell you I was leaving.”

  He exhaled loudly. “He’s not… He didn’t tell me.”

  “And is that my fault?”

  “Why did you take off?” His voice boomed out of her phone and she knew Nana could hear every word.

  I had to get away from you so I could think straight. “I didn’t take off. I have things to do.”

  “The bet thing, right? You’re still upset about that?”

  She pressed the phone to her cheek, hoping to muffle the sound.

  “That’s what this is about, right?” he asked.

  Yes. No. God, she didn’t know. She just knew she couldn’t be around him for much longer or she’d start counting on him. Like she’d counted on her parents and like she’d counted on Jack. She’d learned the hard way that counting on people got you hurt. She couldn’t afford to be hurt now.

  Nikki felt Nana looking at her, listening, and probably surmising what the conversation was about, too.

  “You’ve carted me around all day. And I appreciate it, I do. But I’ve got things to do. We’ll talk in a few days.”

  “Have they fixed your door?” he asked.

  “I’m sure they have.”

  “What happened to your door?” Nana asked.

  “But you don’t know for sure?” He paused. “Where are you?”

  “I should probably go.”

  “Nikki… if you’ll give me a chance to explain—”

  “Bye.” She hung up and turned off her phone.

  Nana turned into the parking lot of her retirement home condo complex, rolled real slow toward her building, studying Nikki every few seconds. “What’s going on, Nikki?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “You’re upset.”

  “It’s been a tough few days.”

  “What happened to your door?”

  “The lock was sticking,” she lied and did so with almost a clean conscience. She didn’t want Nana worrying. “The apartment manager was supposed to fix it.”

  “Something happened between you and that PI, didn’t it?”

  “Nothing happened. He’s just… I need to be alone.”

  “Sometimes a little company is nice.”

  “Not now.” Nikki got out of the car and Nana did the same. She met her grandmother on the other side of the vehicle.

  Nana reached up and pressed a hand on each of Nikki’s cheeks. “Come in for a bite to eat. I can whip up a batch of cupcakes.”

  The word “cupcakes” took her back to Dallas and their little make-out session on his bedroom floor. Heat immediately rushed to her cheeks. “I’d better head out.”

  “Are you okay… no issues with the poison?”

  “Fine. I ate a big lunch.”

  Nana sighed.

  Nikki decided to change the subject. “Are you sure you don’t mind me borrowing your car? Mine should be ready tomorrow.” She blinked away the image of Jack, and her heart raced. When was that going to stop happening?

  “Lord, no. We’re doing another dress rehearsal tonight. I’ll ride with Benny and Helen.”

  Nikki hugged her grandmother, soaking up the love Nana offered. When she pulled back, Nana said, “You don’t have to go through this alone. Stay here. Go see us practice. Have a few laughs.”

  Nikki remembered what Dallas had said about bringing trouble to her grandmother’s door. “I’m fine. Besides…”—she plastered a smile on her lips—“I know Benny comes a calling at night.”

  “Nothing wrong with a gentleman caller every now and then.” Nana pointed her finger at Nikki. “You should try it.”

  “I will when I find a guy as good as Benny.”

  “What about that PI? He seemed nice. Nice to look at, too.”

  “He’s not my type,” she lied. For some reason she remembered lunch when he’d swapped her fries for a part of his onion rings. It was stupid, but after spending years married to Jack, there was something refreshing about enjoying a meal with someone without worrying what fork she used or if the sandwich was too messy to eat with her hands.

  Nana frowned. “You know, leaning on someone isn’t a crime, child.”

  “I am leaning… leaning on you. I’m borrowing your car.” And it pained Nikki to do it. She wanted to be the one Nana leaned on.

  She gave Nana another hug. “Don’t forget to take your blood pressure medicine. If Benny comes over, you’ll need it.” She sent her grandmother another smile and was hit with a wave of emotion. Somehow, Nikki had to get back on her feet—be the strong one in the relationship, and find a way to pay for Nana’s cable.

  Nana frowned as if seeing through Nikki’s front. “Call me when you get home, okay?”

  Nikki stopped at a stop sign and tried to decide. Go home and curl up on the bed and have that private meltdown she so deserved, or go to the gallery to take care of what had to be taken care of.

  Only the weak cry. Her mother’s voice played in her head. Biting down on her lip, she turned toward the gallery. Her stomach clutched at the thought of cleaning up Ellen’s blood, but Dallas was right. It was easier now that she’d seen Ellen was okay.

  She parked outside the gallery, moved to the front door, purposely not looking through the glass door at the blood, and started going through her purse for the keys. They weren’t in the side pocket. They weren’t in the middle, either. She pulled out her wallet. She really needed to clean out her purse. Shaking it, she didn’t hear the keys jingle.

  That’s when she remembered she’d given Dallas the keys. “Shit.” She leaned against the door. When she opened her eyes, another realization hit—the lights in the gallery were on. She distinctly remembered cutting them off when they’d left.

  Her gaze shot to the tile floor and her stomach muscles knotted as she prepared to feel repulsed.

  But… no repulsion.

  No blood.

  What had… How…?

  She reached for the doorknob and when it turned in her hand, she fought the need to run. Instead, she reached back into her purse, pulled out her can of Mace and stepped inside.

  The smell of some strong cleaner filled the air. Who had…?

  The air conditioner spurted to life. She gripped the Mace. Her gaze shifted to the artwork, making sure none had been taken—though she supposed a thief wouldn’t clean up and then rob her blind.

  But then she heard footsteps.

  Immediately her thoughts shot to Ellen’s story of hearing someone in the gallery.

  Nikki listened to the steps moving down the hall that led from the office at the back.

  Her gaze shot to the front door. Without enough time to make it out without being seen, she backed up against the wall, so she wasn’t immediately visible. The footsteps came closer.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Is this how Ellen felt? Nikki’s heart thumped so loud it echoed in her ears. Images of the blood flashed in her mind.

  The steps drew closer—almost right beside her. Panic took over. Finger on the Mace nozzle, Nikki swung around, sprayed, screamed, and bolted for the door.

  “Hello.” Dallas walked into his dad’s home. It didn’t smell right. The house hadn’t smelled right since he’d gotten out of prison. It wasn’t that the house contained an odor. It was the lack of certain scents. It no longer smelled like Lemon Pledge or fresh-baked cookies. It no longer smelled like his mom.

  When Dallas didn’t se
e his dad right inside the door, he had the impulse to swing around, get back in his car and go to the Park Knoll apartments to check on Nikki. It had taken everything he had not to go straight there from the police station. What if her landlord hadn’t fixed her lock? What if he was right, and someone was after her?

  Dallas had called at least six times. Left five messages, all of which she hadn’t answered. And not because she was in danger, but because she didn’t want to talk to him.

  You tried. She doesn’t want you there. Leave her be. His brother’s words of wisdom echoed in Dallas’s head.

  He had almost thrown those same words back at Tony about LeAnn. How crazy was it for his brother to move back home when his wife asked for a divorce? But Tony’s problems with LeAnn were different. And Tony was right—Dallas couldn’t force Nikki to accept his help. But he did have to return her keys. And as soon as he got the gallery key from Austin, he’d do so. Dallas had called Austin twice to see if the cleaning crew had finished, but Austin never answered his phone. So while he waited to hear back from Austin, Dallas felt obligated to have dinner with his dad.

  Dallas took another step inside his parents’ home. His dad sat in his old leather recliner, watching TV. Problem was, the screen was black. The thing wasn’t turned on.

  “Dad?”

  His father jumped up as if he’d been in some kind of a daze. “Dallas. You’re early.”

  Dallas spotted four beer cans on the coffee table. When his mom was alive, she’d allowed him a six-pack a week. No doubt, he was over his quota now.

  “It’s six-thirty, Dad.”

  “Oh. I must have dozed off. Let me get that grill going.” He looked back over his shoulder as he walked into the kitchen. “So tell me about this new case.”

  His dad wasn’t staggering, so he wasn’t drunk, but the sad truth hit. He was lonely. Dallas could almost feel the emotion in the air. Sure, his dad could get out with his ol’ buddies, but Dallas remembered his dad telling him once that all his friends did was complain about their old ladies. Did they know, his dad had asked, that he’d give anything if his own old lady was at home?

  Dallas saw the photo albums on the coffee table. Was that what his dad did all day? Look at pictures and grieve? Guilt punched him in the gut. He’d been so wrapped up in his own grief that he hadn’t considered how much his father must be hurting.

  He stepped closer to the kitchen. “Instead of cooking, why don’t we just go out? I have to pick up a key and return it to someone, then maybe we can go to that rib joint you like.”

  His dad paused. “You got the time?”

  Dallas nodded. He’d make the time. “Yeah.”

  His dad chattered all the way to the car about how he hadn’t had ribs in a long time. How the dinner out was a great idea. Dallas was about to start the car when his cell rang. His heart gripped with hope that it was Nikki, returning his calls. While he didn’t like the idea of groveling in front of his old man, it wouldn’t stop him.

  “Excuse me,” he told his dad and looked at the call log.

  It wasn’t Nikki’s number, but then he saw the name. “B. Littlemore.” Nikki’s grandmother. Could be Nikki.

  “Hello?” Hope sounded in his voice.

  “You said you’d take care of my girl,” Mrs. Littlemore scolded. “And from what I can tell right now, you’re doing a piss-poor job of it.”

  “What’s wrong? Where’s Nikki?” Dallas clutched the steering wheel, remembering how sweet she’d looked curled up in his bed this morning.

  “She was supposed to call me when she got home. I called her and she didn’t answer. Then I got Benny to stop by her apartment on the way to play rehearsal. Her door’s been broken in. Where’s my Nikki, Dallas O’Connor?”

  Dread filled Dallas’s chest. “I don’t know. Look, I’ll drive over to her place now. But calm down, the apartment was broken into last night, so I’m sure she’s fine.” He felt his left eyebrow arch upward. But damn he didn’t want that to be a lie. “Wait. Maybe she went back up to the hospital to see Ellen.”

  “Nope, I called there. And I called the gallery. No answer.”

  “Does she have other friends?” He hated that he knew so little about her.

  “Since the divorce, she’s not been very social,” Mrs. Littlemore said.

  “Okay, you keep trying to reach her. I’ll head out to her place. If I find her, I’ll give you a call. You do the same.” He hung up his phone and looked at his dad.

  “You want a rain check, right? Don’t worry.” His dad reached for the door handle. “I understand.”

  In honesty, that was exactly what he’d been going to say, but the disappointment in his dad’s voice shot that idea to hell. “Or you could come with me.”

  A smile lit up his dad’s eyes. “Let’s go.”

  Dallas took off, and remembered another smile he’d grown fond of seeing. The thought that something bad could have happened had regret pulling at his gut.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “I’M SO SORRY,” Nikki repeated for the tenth time, placing a stack of wet paper towels across Austin Brook’s eyes. Then she scowled. “Why didn’t Dallas tell me he was doing this?”

  “I don’t know,” Austin growled then, yanking the wet paper towels off his face, he glared at her with bloodred eyes. “Goddamn it! I almost shot you.”

  “But you didn’t,” she said, hoping to soothe him. “And I really appreciate it, too.”

  He yanked the inch-thick stack of soggy paper towels back over his eyes and continued to mutter. She didn’t understand everything he said, but most of it was four-letter words.

  “If Dallas had told me about this, I’d never have sprayed you. It’s his fault.”

  “Don’t worry,” he snapped. “He’s gonna hear about this. You got a fan?”

  “In the office,” she answered.

  “Bring it here and plug it in. Please.” He motioned for her to hurry.

  She took off to collect the fan. When she came running back in, Austin’s phone rang. He dropped the paper towels from his eyes and stared at the cell, then answered it. “The next time you ask me to do you a damn favor, remind me to tell you to just kiss my ass!”

  Tony dropped his bags so he could open the front door. It hadn’t occurred to him that LeAnn might have changed the locks until he reached for his keys. Worry swelled in his chest that she might have tried to lock him out.

  When his key slipped into the lock, he wanted to believe that her not changing the locks meant something. He grabbed his bags and held tight to his hope. Stepping over the threshold, he was surrounded by the feeling of coming home.

  He belonged here. What’s more, he should have never left.

  Inhaling LeAnn’s scent, he looked at the kitchen clock. He wasn’t sure what time she got off, but if her hours were the same and she still worked twelve-hour shifts, he guessed she’d gone in at eight that morning and would leave at eight tonight. That meant he had a little over an hour to get his stuff unpacked, clean up, and emotionally prepare for the fireworks that were bound to happen when she found him here. He exhaled and hoped like hell his lack of sleep didn’t hinder his ability to cope.

  He dropped the bag of groceries on the kitchen table. He’d gotten a good bottle of red wine, a bag of the chocolate-covered peanuts she had a weakness for, her favorite coffee and hazelnut creamer, a pack of real butter, some croissants, and a bottle of the most expensive blackberry preserves his grocery carried. Expensive hopefully meant quality. LeAnn loved croissants and jam. Finding the wine opener, he popped the cork so it would have plenty of time to breathe. LeAnn also loved a glass of wine and a snack before bedtime.

  He carried the other bags with him as he moved into the living room. His gaze fell to the empty corner of the room where the baby swing had once sat. He remembered coming home every evening, kissing LeAnn then walking to the swing and lifting his daughter into his arms.

  His chest clutched when he recalled that only a week before Emily died, she�
�d learned to smile. And with that precious smile on her face, she’d looked so much like LeAnn. That was the day Tony had completely and wholeheartedly fallen in love with his daughter. Oh, he’d loved her before, but her first smile was a heart snatcher.

  Determined to make his homecoming about good things and not about what they had lost, he shook off his grief, and went to store his things in the spare bedroom. He intended to let LeAnn know right off that his plan included joining her in their bed just as soon she’d allow it.

  He opened the third bedroom and dropped his bags inside. Then he walked back into the hall and stared at the closed door that led to the nursery. Curious to see what LeAnn had done with the room, he turned the knob. His breath caught.

  The crib still had the pink sheet with teddy bears. The rocker still had a burping cloth thrown over one arm. There was even a little outfit set out on the changing table.

  Had LeAnn even come in here since Emily died?

  He’d been so grief stricken, losing his mom one week and then Emily the next, he hadn’t stopped to consider what they needed to do with… her things. Or how they needed to go about healing from the loss. But standing here now, he knew they needed to clear out Emily’s things. They needed to move forward.

  But first he had to win LeAnn over. Prove to her that she didn’t want this divorce. He shut the door and walked into the master suite. He stared at the bed where he and LeAnn had loved, played, teased, and laughed. That’s what he needed to make LeAnn remember.

  He went back to the spare bedroom and dug into his bags. He pulled out a pair of jeans and clean underwear; the shirt was optional. LeAnn had always loved him without his shirt. You know what it does to me when you run around without a shirt on, she’d said to him a dozen times.

  Grabbing his leather bag that contained his razor, deodorant, and aftershave—the aftershave LeAnn had picked out herself—he started down the hall to the guest bath.

  He almost made the door when he remembered—the guest bath only had one of those whirlpool tubs and no shower. He recalled debating with LeAnn about adding a shower when they had the extra bathroom remodeled. She hadn’t wanted to have to hang a curtain rod. You won’t ever use this bathroom. You got the shower in the master bath.