by Joanna Wayne
“So monsters, that’s it?”
“There was this two-ton bull a few years back. Wanted to show me who was boss after he threw me off his back and into the dirt. When I saw that hoof coming at my head, I knew a moment or two of panic.”
“Ouch.” She cringed at the image. “You could have been killed.”
“Yep. That’s the night I gave up bull riding for keeps. Figured I could do more good as a cop than a corpse, so here I am.”
Here he was, on her deck, chatting as easily as if they’d known each other for years. A knight in cowboy boots and carrying a badge. He’d found out more about her son in two days than the DPD missing-persons division, the P.I. she’d hired and she with all her questions had discovered in ten long months.
“So the Western boots you wear are not just for show. You really are a cowboy.”
“Every chance I get.” He scooted back from the table, stretching his long legs in front of him. “I know I hit you with a lot tonight, Faith. I know how worried you are about Cornell. But give me a little more time. I promise I’ll find him. If he’s in any kind of trouble, I’ll go in and even the odds. Trust me on that.”
Strangely, she did. She owed him big-time. But she couldn’t deny that it was more than gratitude he inspired. She liked his being here, liked his touch when he’d held her hands across the small table. Even liked watching him eat.
If she wasn’t very careful, she might start liking him so much that she forgot he was here only as a cop and as a favor to his brother’s bride.
When they finished eating, Travis gathered the nearly empty food containers and carried them to the trash while Faith cleared the dishes from the table. “Leave the wine and glasses,” he suggested. “I have a few more questions and it’s too nice outdoors to go inside yet.”
“Questions about Cornell?”
“Yeah, though feel free to wow me with your personal exploits if you like. You’ve heard my tales of horror and stupid acts of daring.”
“You were in attendance during my most stupid act of daring,” she said.
“Fighting off the drunk at the Passion Pit?”
“In full hooker garb.”
“Do you still have that outfit?” He grinned devilishly.
“No,” she lied.
“Yet it lives forever in my mind.”
She made a face. “Now, that’s scary.”
But not nearly as scary as the zany pulses of sensuality she felt at his teasing. “I’ll finish in here,” she said, before the sudden flushes of heat inside her grew any hotter. “I’ll meet you back on the patio in a few minutes.”
“Sounds good.”
“But no more wine for me,” she said. “I’m a lightweight drinker.” And not used to sexual temptation in any shape or form, certainly not the shape and form of a rugged cowboy cop on a night when, thanks to Cornell’s secrets, her vulnerability was at an all-time high.
* * *
TRAVIS RETURNED TO the deck, worrying that the questions he needed to ask were only going to upset Faith more. But Cornell was clearly not the innocent schoolboy Faith had portrayed him as. He was a man, albeit young and probably inexperienced.
Messing around with one of Georgio’s dancers could have led him into real trouble. Travis only hoped that actually had been Cornell and not an imposter who’d made that phone call in the wee hours of the morning. His being alive was the best news they could have hoped for.
It was Cornell’s connection to Georgio through Angela Pointer that worried Travis the most. Georgio ruled his world like a third-world dictator. No one crossed him. No one ratted on him. He made sure they were too scared to do that.
Travis poured himself a half glass of wine and walked to the edge of the deck, his thoughts wandering back to Faith. Her heart was literally breaking with worry over Cornell.
His mother must have felt that same kind of love for him and Leif. She’d left R.J., her sorry, alcoholic, womanizing husband, and raised them by herself.
Only instead of losing him or Leif, she’d lost her own battle with cancer, knowing she was leaving two young sons to make it without her.
Travis wished he remembered more, but most of what he knew of her came from Leif. She had loved them more than anything. Leif had assured him of that. Travis figured that if she were alive today, she’d like Faith.
He liked her, too. More than liked. He didn’t understand it himself, but some weird chemistry had come into play the first night he met her. She’d stayed on his mind, haunted his dreams, fueled more than a few fantasies.
But then she’d been more image than person. Now she was real. She was a key component of an investigation that might link to a lot more than Cornell’s running off with a stripper.
No two ways about it. Faith ignited urges and feelings in him that had no place in a police investigation. Reactions like those made lawmen weak and all too frequently stupid. The brain tended to check out when emotions checked in.
He looked up as Faith rejoined him on the porch. The sun had set and the moonlight filtering through the branches of a stately oak tree painted silver streaks in her silky brown hair.
The crazy need to take her in his arms and hold her close hit again. Damn. Why did this have to be so hard? She was attractive, but she was just a woman. He worked with them all the time. None had ever gotten to him like this.
“What else do you want to know?” she asked.
“Anything that might help me to get inside Cornell’s head, figure out what and how he’d react to stressful situations.”
“After what you told me tonight, I’m not sure how well I even knew him.”
“Let’s start with the seizures,” Travis said, needing her to focus on specifics. “Was this something new or had he dealt with them for a long time?”
“They started when he was fourteen. Cornell’s father was working for a Central American oil company at the time. Cornell went for a two-week visit. A few days after he came home, he started running a high fever. The seizures started soon after.”
And that had surely scared her to death. “How long was he sick?”
“Two weeks. He was finally diagnosed with some rare strain of flu. Twice we were told he might not make it through the night.”
Faith’s voice broke. She swayed and then leaned against a corner post for support. Travis could fight it no longer. He walked over and put an arm around her shoulders.
She leaned into him, her head nestled against his chest. His thumb rode the tight veins in her neck.
“I’m sorry,” she finally whispered between sniffles. “I’ve relived this often enough that I should be able to talk about it without falling to pieces. It’s just that everything is so stressful right now.”
“No apology needed.” He’d always figured he’d had a tough life growing up, but Faith’s hadn’t been a picnic. A divorce. Raising a son alone. And now this. “You’ve earned the right to a little meltdown,” he said.
“But it doesn’t change anything.”
She stepped from his arms. They felt incredibly empty without her.
Travis’s cell phone vibrated. He was tempted to ignore it, but was too much a cop to do that. He checked the caller ID. It was his partner, Reno.
He took the call. “What’s up?”
“You know that dancer you asked me to run through the system?”
“Yeah.”
“No rap sheet, but she’s a runaway. Lived with her mother and stepfather in West Texas before she left home at sixteen.”
“And since then?”
“Worked at a convenience store in Austin before ending up in Dallas and going to work as an exotic dancer at the Passion Pit. But get this, she made a 911 call a couple of weeks before Cornell disappeared. Said her boyfriend had beat her up and she needed an ambul
ance. Spent two days in the hospital, then dropped charges against the guy.”
“Do you have an ID on him?”
“Walt Marshall. Also one of Georgio’s employees.”
“Subject ever been married?”
“I take it you’re not free to talk right now?”
“Not really, but go on. Where is Marshall now?”
“Missing in action, at least from the Dallas area. Never reported as missing, but I can’t find anything on him for the last ten months.”
“Anything else on the subject?”
“According to her landlady, Angela Pointer left about the same time Cornell disappeared, without paying her rent. That’s all I’ve got so far. So you want to tell me what this is all about?”
“Yeah. I’ll call you back in about ten minutes.”
He wasn’t going to get into this with Faith until he had more facts. But it was turning into one hell of a mess.
Travis didn’t even want to speculate what kind of trouble Cornell had gotten himself into if he was messing around with the pregnant girlfriend of a lunatic.
“An emergency?” Faith asked when he broke the connection.
“Appears that way. I hate to rush off, but my partner has some new evidence on one of our cases and I need to go over it with him.”
“No problem. I understand completely. I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve already done.”
“I’ll check out Angela Pointer tomorrow,” he promised. In truth, he planned to do a little snooping tonight. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I find out anything further. In the meantime, call me if you hear from Cornell again.”
“I will.”
She walked him back through the house and to the front door. When she looked up at him, he got hit with that crazy rush of emotions again. He had to make the goodbye short and not too sweet before he did something really foolish—like kiss her.
“Lock your door,” he cautioned. “You can’t be too careful in the big city.”
“I always do.”
He took one of her hands, squeezed it tightly and then turned and walked away while he still could.
With any luck he’d find Angela Pointer alive and well and swinging from a pole at the Passion Pit tonight. He had an ugly hunch that wouldn’t be the case.
Chapter Eight
“They were lying,” Reno said as they walked back to Travis’s pickup truck.
“The two dancers who actually admitted knowing Angela?”
“Yeah. Their spiel sounded rehearsed.”
“Right,” Travis agreed. “I don’t figure I’ll do any better talking to Georgio when he gets back in town—if he’s actually out of town.”
Reno opened the door and swung into the passenger side. “Easy to see how Ethridge hit a brick wall.”
“We’ve already gotten a few steps further than he did,” Travis said as he slid behind the wheel. “At least we know about Angela Pointer.”
“But not her whereabouts,” his partner said emphatically. “Nor are you any closer to locating Cornell. And lest you forget, we are in the middle of a very high-profile murder investigation.”
“All true. But I promised Faith Ashburn I’d find her son, and I never walk on a promise. Besides, I’m not totally convinced Scott’s murder and Cornell’s disappearance are exclusive.”
“Now you’re pushing it. Eighteen-year-old runs off with his sexy girlfriend—not the kind you take home to Mama—then calls his mother months later and says ‘I’m sorry.’ Doesn’t sound like foul play to me,” Reno said. “Sounds like a teenager whose hormones are calling all the shots.”
“Normally, I’d agree with you, but Faith is so sure he wouldn’t have left home.”
“The same Faith who didn’t even know her son was boinking a stripper?”
“I know. It doesn’t all add up, but having Georgio involved in this in any way makes me naturally suspicious. Add the abusive boyfriend to that mix and there’s plenty of reason to worry.”
“I still don’t see a connection with Scott Mitchell.”
“I know. Just call it one of my wild hunches.” Travis started the engine, shifted into gear and pulled into traffic. It was light even for a Tuesday night.
“So tell me again. Exactly how are you connected to Cornell’s mother?”
“She’s a good friend of Leif’s new wife, maid of honor at the wedding.”
“So no kin to you?”
“None.”
“Good-looking?” Reno asked.
Easy to see where this was going. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Just curious.”
“She’s attractive.”
“And unattached.”
“It appears that way, but I’m not doing this just so I can jump her bones, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”
“Actually, that would make a lot more sense than any other reason you’ve given for jumping headfirst into Ethridge’s case. About damn time you jumped somebody’s bones. Might make you a lot less irritable.”
“Well, it won’t be Faith Ashburn’s, not until her son is found, and probably not then.”
“Why not? Too old for you?”
“Nope.”
“Too hot for you?”
“Too complicated.” And too damned irresistible. The kind who’d make you think of forever. Travis was not a forever guy.
“Complicated? What the hell is that supposed to mean? She smarter than you are?”
“Probably. Most women I date are. But the complicated part is if we date and she gets serious.”
“Break up like you always do when a girlfriend gets serious.”
“Only with Faith, that wouldn’t be the end of it. I’d have my brother’s wife mad at me. Would make those family gatherings real chummy. Plus I’d have to worry about running into her if I showed up at the Dry Gulch to visit Leif.”
“That’s all a bunch of B.S. Face it, partner. You’re falling for her and it’s scaring you to death.”
“Not a chance. Cops and marriage are a lousy mix. You’re the only one in Homicide not divorced or cheating on your wife.”
Reno laughed and gave him a friendly punch to the arm. “Yep, already thinking about marriage. You’re all but roped and tied. Can’t wait until I meet Faith. She must be a hell of a woman.”
“She is. But this is about finding her son, and that’s the only place our relationship is going.”
But in spite of his denial, Travis was having a devil of a time keeping Faith off his mind.
He wondered what Leif would say about that. But then Leif was probably the wrong one to ask. He’d fallen madly in love with Joni in a matter of days. And now he was living at the Dry Gulch Ranch with a father he’d always claimed to hate.
Must be something in the water. Travis would stick to beer.
* * *
FAITH LOOKED UP from the notes she was going over, and punched the buzzer to retrieve the message from her secretary. “You have a caller on line one, a man, says it’s personal.”
“Did he give a name?”
“No, but he said this was about Cornell.”
Her heart lurched. “Thanks. I’ll take the call.”
“Good morning, Faith. Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”
“Georgio.” She hadn’t expected to hear from him this soon—or at this number. “The timing is fine. I’m busy, but I always am. I just didn’t remember mentioning to you where I work.”
“You didn’t, but information like that is easy to find. I tried your cell-phone number first. There was no answer.”
“I just got out of a meeting and I’d turned it off.” She pulled the cell from her desk drawer and checked it as she talked. Sure enough, one
missed call.
Cautious anticipation surged. “This must be important for you to call me at work.”
“Something I find worrisome, but I’d rather not talk about it on the phone. I was hoping you could meet me for lunch.”
She checked her watch. Eleven-thirty, and she had a meeting at one. But anxiety had replaced anticipation now and she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything until she heard what Georgio had to say.
“I can get away for a little while, but I need to be back here a few minutes before one.”
“Perfect. I’m on my way to the airport, but I built in a little time in case you were available. I can pick you up in front of your office in about ten minutes.”
“I’ll be there.” Hopefully, Georgio’s worrisome news was the same information she’d already gotten from Travis and not something else to complicate matters. No use speculating. She’d know in a matter of minutes.
As far as she was concerned, they could bypass lunch and talk in the car. In fact, she’d suggest it. That way she wouldn’t have to wait to hear what he had to say, and he could go straight to the airport.
She filed the reports from the morning, took a quick bathroom break and then rode the elevator down to the first floor. She walked out the double glass doors right on time.
A black luxury car was stopped in front of the building. A chauffeur stepped out and opened the back door for her. Georgio leaned over and waved a welcome.
So much for talking in the car. She climbed into the backseat, straightening and tugging her skirt down to cover most of her thighs when she noticed Georgio ogling them. As if he didn’t see enough flesh in his nightclubs.
“There’s a small bistro around the corner,” he said. “The menu is limited, but Chef François is creative and the food exquisite. I took the liberty of making reservations there. I trust that’s agreeable.”
“Anyplace is fine with me as long as we can talk.”
“We’ll have a private room.”
Her apprehension burgeoned. Was what he had to tell her so alarming that he couldn’t chance it being overheard? Or was he afraid of her reaction when she heard what he had to say?