by Ken Casper
Gwyn thought about Jed’s aspiration to become a concert violinist and his trip to New York. Frannie had apparently been right—he didn’t have the requisite skill, yet Gwyn had to wonder how the woman, unschooled in the finer points of classical music, as Jed claimed she was, could judge his talent so accurately. Of course, Gwyn hadn’t heard Jed play. Maybe his amateurishness was obvious for anyone to hear. Or maybe Frannie had refused to support his ambition because she was afraid of losing him. Which would mean she was more manipulative than Jed realized.
Unfortunately, this kind of speculation played right into Fielder’s hands. Even if Jed had had the requisite talent when he went to the Juilliard, Frannie’s disappearance could easily have distracted him and prompted his counselor to discourage him. They’d never know now if he might have succeeded had Frannie not disappeared.
JED WAS COMPLETELY off balance all day. He did what he had to do, but he couldn’t seem to feel any of it. His mind kept wandering to the sheriff’s visit, to the look on Gwyn’s face when Fielder had promised to come back with an arrest warrant. She was scared. He only hoped she didn’t know how nervous he was, too. Suppose the sheriff hadn’t been bluffing. Suppose he really did have sufficient evidence to charge him with Frannie’s murder. It was all circumstantial, but people had been convicted of murder—even executed—on no more than circumstantial evidence.
Jed had the uncomfortable feeling Tessa Lang, the archaeologist, might have found something at the burial site that would further reinforce Fielder’s case against him, something incriminating the sheriff had sworn her to secrecy about and that he wouldn’t reveal until the very last minute. What it might be baffled him, but in his gut Jed knew there was something, if only he could remember what it was.
He took Gwyn to Santiago’s that evening for dinner. It was the best Mexican restaurant in town and, as far as Jed was concerned, within a hundred-mile radius. He’d gone to school with Rico Santiago. The family business had started as a strictly mom-and-pop operation, the food served literally out their kitchen back door. Rico’s mother and grandmother had expanded the operation over the years until now it was run in a sprawling complex of added-on rooms and intimate patios. Mariachis strolled the crowded dining areas on weekends, entertaining and lending an air of festiveness to the boisterous atmosphere.
Rico had returned to Uncertain a couple of years ago. His grandmother had been convinced from the day of his birth that he was destined for the priesthood. Then Rico reached puberty, discovered girls, and his life took a different course. His considerable straying from the path of celibacy was still a butt of friendly razzing. After graduating from medical school he’d returned to Uncertain, opened his own family practice and married his high school sweetheart. If Abuela Santiago was disappointed in his rejecting her choice for his vocation, she seemed to have gotten over it—and, as soon as she found out she was going to be a great-grandmother, to have forgiven Layla for tempting him away from holy orders.
As always the Tex-Mex fare was spicy, generous and mouthwatering.
“Something wrong with the cinco-cinco nachos?” Rico’s mother, Carlita, asked when Jed and Gwyn ate only half the platter of crispy tortilla chips piled high with seasoned beef, refried beans, chopped onions, tomatoes, melted cheese, jalapeños and guacamole.
“The only thing wrong,” Gwyn told her with genuine pleasure, “is that I can’t eat more of them. Jed tells me your chicken mole is to die for, so I have to leave some room.”
Rico’s mother smiled happily. “I’ll wrap the nachos up for you to take with you.” She turned to Jed. “You seen Rico?”
“Not lately,” Jed admitted. “How are he and Layla doing?”
“She has the morning sickness.”
“Again? Have you told her they’ve found out what causes it?”
Mama Santiago chuckled richly. “I don’t think my daughter-in-law is looking for a cure.”
“They’re nice people,” Gwyn commented nearly two hours later when they were pulling out of the parking lot.
“I always envied Rico his big, close-knit family. They’re very kind people.”
The tangy aromas of cumin and sharp cheddar wafted through the car. “And generous,” she added. “We have enough food in these doggy boxes to feed a small convention.”
Jed shook his head. “I’ve often wondered how they earn a profit. They certainly don’t make one on me. I always seem to come away with twice as many leftovers as I’ve paid for.”
He slowly pulled up the driveway of Beaumarais and parked the Jaguar in the garage behind the house. Each took a foam container from the rear seat, and they walked hand in hand toward the back of the stately mansion. He paused and stared across the broad lawn leading down to the lake’s edge. The full moon was just rising, an oversize golden disk that sparkled above the mist seeping across the water between moss-draped cypress trees. Crickets chirped. An owl hooted and somewhere off in the distance a whippoorwill called.
A beautiful night. A beautiful woman at his side.
They deposited the leftover food in the refrigerator.
He turned to face her. “I love you, Gwyn.”
Her heart leaped. She gazed up into his eyes. There was wariness there as well as desire. She understood both.
“I love you, too, Jed.” She waited for him to say more, but instead he brought his mouth down to hers and kissed her sweetly on the lips. Oh, there was passion, but it was banked, held in reserve. “Let’s go upstairs,” she whispered.
SEVERAL HOURS later, she stirred. He was still beside her, his arm extended across her naked belly. She looked over and found his eyes wide-open.
“Did I wake you? I’m sorry.” He withdrew his arm. “Go back to sleep.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked, dismayed by the troubled expression on his face.
“Nothing,” he said softly, and repeated, “Go back to sleep.”
She pulled herself into a sitting position and rearranged the pillows behind her head more comfortably.
“Tell me what’s bothering you, Jed,” she urged him.
He hesitated, then drew himself up beside her.
When he remained silent, she prompted, “Speak to me, Jed. Whatever the problem is, we’ll work it out together.”
His expression was forlorn. “Talking with Carlita Santiago last evening reminded me how much I’ve missed—marriage, children.”
She leaned over and laid her head against his shoulder, her hand sliding across his chest. She could feel his heartbeat under the coarse hair that overlay the warm firmness of muscle. “Family,” she said. “I know.”
He snaked his arm around her and planted a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “I want to spend the rest of my life making love to you.”
The murmur of his smooth, deep voice so close to her ear sent erotic little vibrations tripping through her. She felt herself floating the way she had in his boat on the lake, gliding effortlessly through a misty forest of half-hidden trees.
With his free hand, he touched the long coil of auburn hair that cascaded over her shoulder to her breast. He combed his fingertips through the silken strands gently, as if they were something delicate, sacred and magical. “I want to share my life with you, Gwyn. I want to make babies with you.”
She cuddled against him, pressing herself into the reassuring shelter of his body. This kind of contentment was new to her. It wasn’t a neutral thing, like having no worries or the absence of pain. It was a positive force that brought her serenity. She’d dreamed of having a home, a family, a husband and children, but she’d never thought such fantasies could come true. Not for her. “Me, too.”
“I wish I could ask you to marry me, Gwyn,” he muttered in quiet defeat, “but as long as this murder charge is hanging over my head—”
He might as well have dashed the love boat smack into a sa
ndbar—or maybe an iceberg. The fog immediately cleared. She lifted her head and stared at the handsome profile of the man who’d become the center of her world. There was no denying the sadness in his eyes. It made her ache. She knew why he was doing this. To protect her. To spare her the pain of losing him if things didn’t go right. His damn nobility made her furious. She’d spent her life alone, and now he was abandoning her, too. Never mind that he thought it was for honorable reasons. Her parents were always doing things “to help” her, “for her own good.” When she wanted to be close instead of “safe,” she was called selfish.
“Jed, we’ve had this conversation before.” She pulled away from him and propped herself on the pillows crowding the headboard. Instinctively, she tugged the sheet up to cover her naked breasts. “And frankly I don’t see any point in having it again.”
He shifted, and she felt his startled gaze sweep her face. Refusing to meet it, she looked away, toward the windows, where morning light was spilling into the room like gold dust. His perplexity at her response further fueled her temper.
“Besides, who said I wanted to marry you?” She swung her legs over the side of the bed, away from him, so he couldn’t see the tears her anger was causing.
He ran his hand down her spine, sending shivers along the vertebrae. “Gwyn . . .” he implored.
She jerked away. The sensation of his fingers on her skin distracted her from her rage and she didn’t want it to cool. Confrontation had never been in her makeup. Her parents had been very efficient in nurturing it out of her, but maybe it was time for nature to take over.
“The sex has been great, Jed, so let’s leave it at that,” she announced, and started to get up.
This time, he grabbed her arm. She stared down at the hand that had only minutes earlier stirred such glorious passion in her, but that now held a different kind of force. She turned toward him. He was glowering at her as if she had three heads.
“Is that all this is about? Sex?” he asked in a low voice. There was an edge in his words now, and disappointment, as well.
It’s about love and trust, devotion and steadfastness, she wanted to yell at him. But what good was anything if it had to be spelled out. She dragged her fingers through her hair. She’d given herself to him, not just physically, though that had also been more complete, more unreserved, than she’d ever imagined possible, but she’d left herself totally vulnerable when she’d presented him with her heart. She’d told him she loved him, and it wasn’t enough.
Drawing in a deep breath, she yanked her arm out of his grip. “Damn you, Jed Louis.”
She rose from the bed and padded naked to the bathroom. At the door she paused and glanced back at him. “I’ll be gone for the next few days. I have to go to Coyote Springs to check on some miniature donkeys, or maybe they’re jackasses, for a kiddy show. I’ll see you when I get back, and maybe we can have another romp in your bed.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
JED WAS IN his office in Jefferson, studying a contingency contract for a piece of property he was buying on the outskirts of Longview. He’d put in long hours the past three days, leaving the house before June arrived, so he could feed Gwyn’s miniature horses in addition to his own, repeating the process in the evenings.
He barely registered the outside office door opening until he heard his secretary greet the visitor by name. He jumped from his seat and went to the doorway.
She was wearing a shirt of butter yellow—a color that perfectly complemented the long braid of auburn hair slung over her left shoulder. Her jeans hugged her slender hips the way he wanted to.
Had she come to rail at him? To announce she was leaving Uncertain? To tell him that since he didn’t want her in his life she was going away forever? He’d replayed his last conversation with her over and over, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong. Why could she not understand it would be unfair, selfish and irresponsible of him to ask her to tie herself to him when his future was so tenuous? Of course, she had free will, and he respected her right to make her own decisions. But he couldn’t contribute to an error of judgment that could ruin the rest of her life. He loved her too much.
“Hello, Jed.” It wasn’t a hostile greeting, but there was skepticism in it.
“Hi, Gwyn,” he replied lightly, partly for the sake of his secretary, partly because he was unsure of himself, of her. “I’m glad you stopped by.”
“I was in town picking up mineral blocks for my horses,” she said, justifying herself.
He waved an arm, inviting her into his office. She entered. He closed the door behind her and forced himself to keep his hands at his sides while he waited for her to speak.
“About the other morning,” she said tentatively. “I’m—”
“No,” he cautioned her, then realized he didn’t know why she was here. “Before you say anything, please let me apologize, explain.”
“I—”
But she didn’t get a chance to utter another word before he had her in his arms and was kissing her madly.
“Gwyneth,” he said in a husky voice as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. The smell of her skin, the silky softness of her hair, were aphrodisiacs, stirring, arousing, tormenting. She squirmed in his embrace.
“I—” she started again.
The slam of the outside door had them both jumping apart. Almost immediately, there was a rattle of the doorknob and the office door flew open. Logan Fielder filled the available space.
Jed’s secretary, trying to see around the tall sheriff, whose arms were akimbo, called out, “I’m sorry, Mr. Louis, but he—”
“That’s all right, Nicole.” He stared at the intruder. “You want something?”
“It’s not me, Louis. It’s the D.A. He’d like you to come to his office at your earliest convenience—that means now—to answer a few questions.”
Gwyn began trembling. “Are you putting him under arrest, Sheriff?”
“Depends on what he tells the D.A.,” Fielder responded. “Grab your hat,” he told Jed. “You might be a while.”
Jed was tempted to resist, to tell the sheriff to go to hell, but he knew this showdown had been coming. It was time to face it head-on.
“Call Thorndyke,” Jed told Gwyn. “Tell him what’s happening and ask him to meet me at the district attorney’s office. Tell him I won’t say a word until he shows up.”
Jed reached over to the hat rack, snagged his Stetson, set it carefully on his head, leaned over and kissed Gwyn familiarly on the lips and followed the sheriff out the door.
Chapter Thirty
GWYN’S HANDS SHOOK as she dialed the number of Dexter Thorndyke’s office in Dallas. He wasn’t there.
“I have to reach him immediately,” she told the secretary at the other end. Images of Jed sitting at a scarred wooden table with a bright light shining in his eyes flashed across her mind, though she was fairly certain the notion was ridiculous. They wouldn’t be using rubber hoses on him, either.
“Have you tried his cell phone number?”
In the excitement of the moment, Gwyn had completely forgotten about it. “No. What is it? I don’t have my planner with me.” Actually, her appointment book was out in the Rover, but it was parked a block away. She didn’t want to take the time to retrieve it.
Thorndyke’s secretary rattled off his number. Flustered, Gwyn had to ask her to repeat it while she scribbled on a piece of paper on Jed’s desk.
He answered on the second ring. “Hey, take it easy,” he advised a moment later. “Calm down and tell me exactly what’s happened.”
She felt her face grow warm at the realization that she’d been babbling. Giving herself a moment to collect her wits, she recounted the turn of events.
“So he hasn’t been arrested,” the attorney noted. “Just invited to the D.A.’s office.” He paused
a moment. “Could be worse.”
“You will help him, won’t you?” She hated the note of panic in her voice, but there was no hiding the fact she was scared. Jed had been sure the authorities were out to get him, and he’d been right. He’d wanted to shield her from this, but how could he? Whether they were married or not, together or not, didn’t matter. When he suffered misfortune, she suffered with him. Wasn’t that what love meant? Experiencing emotions together?
“Actually, I’m in Uncertain right now,” the voice at the other end said. “In Riley Gray’s office. It’ll probably take me half an hour or so to get to Marshall.”
“So you’ll come?” she asked anxiously, though he’d already told her he would.
“Gwyn, relax.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” she replied with a feeble attempt at wry humor.
He laughed. “You’ll be okay. Look, go over to the D.A.’s office and wait for me. They probably won’t let you see Jed, but that’s all right. I’ll be there as soon as I can. If you do see him, tell him to keep his mouth shut.”
“He told me to tell you he wouldn’t say anything until you arrived.”
“Good man. Now, go about being your usual cool self, Gwyn. Nothing ticks off cops and lawyers more than people who aren’t afraid of them.”
It was her turn to laugh. “Got it. Thanks, Thorny.”
She hung up the phone feeling somewhat relieved. Jed always kept his cool with the sheriff. No reason to think he wouldn’t with the D.A., as well. But with Fielder their confrontations almost had the element of a game. Raised to this new level, the stakes were higher.
She tore off the piece of paper with Thorny’s number on it, just in case she needed it again, stuffed it into her purse and left the office. Jed hadn’t been officially arrested or charged, she reminded herself. Maybe this was just another bluff, an attempt to intimidate. To what end? To get him to confess to a crime he didn’t commit?