by Joanna Wayne
“I think we should table this conversation until we get back to the motel,” Travis urged. “And then we need to discuss it as calmly as possible—without accusations and recriminations. There will be plenty of time for those later.”
“I can’t go to a motel with you.” Panic bled into Angela’s voice. “That’s the first place Alex and his men will look for me.”
“I can’t dump you on the street,” Travis said. “Either you trust me to protect you or we go directly to the police, and you can tell your story to them. You might be able to persuade them to put you in protective custody. It’s your decision.”
“I can’t go to the police. If I tell the truth, it will harm Cornell. I’d rather be dead than cause him more trouble.”
“Then I guess you’re stuck with me for a while.”
Travis stopped for fuel and then at a fast-food chain with a drive-through lane. He ordered breakfast sandwiches and coffee for all of them. He also got a cup of ice for Angela to hold against her swollen ankle.
Faith tried to eat, but one bite into the sandwich she grew nauseated. Angela had promised to explain everything, but in the end it would just be more talk. She couldn’t tell them where to find Cornell, and nothing else mattered at this point.
Faith reached into her pocket and touched her phone, willing it to ring. If she could only hear from Cornell, they could go to him. He surely knew that no matter what he’d done, she would never turn her back on him.
She closed her eyes and then opened them quickly as a deadly premonition wrapped strangling fingers around her heart. She might never see her son again.
As if reading her pain, Travis reached for her hand and squeezed it.
But even Detective Travis Dalton, as amazing as he was, couldn’t win all the time.
* * *
BY THE TIME they reached the motel, Angela’s ankle was turning a weird shade of purple. Travis picked her up and carried her inside. They used a side door that opened into a courtyard to avoid questions from the attendant at the front desk.
Unfortunately, the cleaning lady was just finishing with their suite. She moved out of the way as Travis situated Angela on the sofa and Faith retrieved pillows from the bedroom to elevate her leg.
“What happened? Did you fall?”
“It’s just a sprain,” Angela answered quickly. “I wasn’t looking and twisted it stepping off the curb.”
“I’ll get you some ice.”
“Thanks.”
The cleaning lady rolled the vacuum cleaner out into the hall as she went for the ice.
* * *
“I NEED TO MAKE one quick call to Reno,” Travis said. “I’d appreciate it if you save the explanations until I’m through. No use having to repeat everything for my benefit.”
“We’ll wait,” Faith agreed.
An awkward silence filled the room when he stepped out. Now that the moment of truth had arrived, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it.
If Angela’s talking to the police would harm Cornell, then the facts might not set him free. Still, better a jail cell for a little while than living on the run.
“Any news?” Faith asked when Travis rejoined them.
“Nothing. Hopefully, you can shed some light on what’s going on, Angela. How did Cornell get mixed up in a smuggling operation?”
She had the look of a prisoner facing a firing squad. Faith sucked in her breath and waited for an explanation that might destroy her world.
“I guess I should start at the beginning.”
“Please do,” Faith said. “Don’t sugarcoat anything. I can’t fight for Cornell unless I know exactly how he got into this situation.”
Angela curled her long blond hair around her fingertips, twisting it first one way and then the other. Her eyes remained downcast, her long lashes shielding them from view.
“Cornell came into the Passion Pit one night with a bunch of his high-school friends.”
“How did they get in if they were all underage?”
“They had fake IDs. All the teenagers carry them these days. Old enough to go to war at eighteen, old enough to drink and go to see a scantily clothed woman dance around a pole. That’s how most of them see it.”
“Is that the night you met him?”
“Yes. My ex-boyfriend showed up and started trouble. Georgio had warned him never to come inside the club when he was high, but there was no reasoning with him in that condition.”
“What kind of trouble?” Faith asked.
“He cornered me as I was leaving the stage to work the tables. I tried to fight him off, but he was touching me, you know, sliding his hand inside my G-string and trying to kiss my nipples, that sort of thing.”
Faith’s stomach rolled as the image seared into her brain.
“Where was the bouncer?” Travis asked.
“Dealing with a rowdy customer. Before he realized what was going on and could get to me, Cornell caught Walt off guard. He threw a punch that sent Walt’s head slamming into the wall.
“Blood poured from his nose, and his eyes rolled back into his head. He literally passed out for a few seconds. When he came to, he pulled himself to his feet and staggered toward Cornell, fists up for a fight.
“The men in the room started yelling to Cornell to finish him off. Fortunately, the bouncer reached them before another punch was thrown.
“He would have tossed them both out, but I intervened. I was scared that if they left together the fight would continue on the street and Cornell would get roughed up bad. Walt was crazy when he was high, and a street fighter. Knives, blades, broken beer bottles, metal pipes. He was skilled in all of them.”
Angela’s voice grew shaky. She stopped talking, but finally looked up and faced Faith. “If Cornell would have left with his friends, it would have all been over. They’d have had a laugh over the fight and then forgotten about it.”
Faith shared Angela’s regrets. But all the ifs in the world wouldn’t change things now. “What did happen?”
“I had a drink with Cornell. We connected. I’d never met anyone like Cornell. He didn’t come on to me sexually or start bragging about what a big shot he was. We just talked, like old friends.”
“He was a very special kid,” Faith murmured.
“Almost a man,” Angela reminded her. “He came back to the club a couple of times that week. On each occasion we had a chance to talk. It was two weeks before he kissed me. From that moment on our relationship changed.”
That, Faith could identify with. But Cornell was so young. As she had been when she’d hooked up with Cornell’s father. But the relationship had given her Cornell, and she would never be sorry for that.
“Cornell didn’t want to lie to you, Mrs. Ashburn. He loves you very much. After he kissed me, he wanted me to come home with him and meet you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I knew you wouldn’t be blinded like Cornell. You’d see right through me and realize how wrong I was for him.”
“Yet you didn’t break up with him?”
“I couldn’t. He made me feel decent and special. He saw me as more than an exotic dancer. When he found out I was pregnant, he begged me to leave my job and let him take care of me. He wanted to quit school and get a job. For a few days, even I got wrapped up in the fantasy.”
“He wanted to take care of you even though you were pregnant with another man’s child?”
“He did. How could I not love him for that?” Angela moved her ankle and rearranged the hand towel and ice, wincing as she did so.
“Is that when Cornell went to work for Georgio?” Travis asked.
“No. Cornell would never have willingly had anything to do with Georgio. He hadn’t even met him at that point, though evidently Georgio knew about us. I’m su
re Walt told him.”
The story seemed to be going in circles. Faith was no closer to understanding how a teenage infatuation had led Cornell into smuggling stolen religious artifacts across the border. “So your ex-boyfriend and Georgio were friends,” she said in an effort to keep the order of events straight.
“Walt worked for him.”
“Doing what?” Travis asked.
“Keeping the customers happy. He sold them crack cocaine, marijuana, ecstasy—anything they wanted, except when the narcs were around. Sniffing out narcs was Walt’s specialty.”
“I still don’t understand,” Faith said. “If Cornell didn’t go to work for Georgio, how did he become a smuggler?”
“Walt decided he wanted me back. Apparently, he started a fight with Cornell one night when I was in the backstage dressing room. The bouncer threw them out. That’s when I heard the shots.”
Travis leaned forward. “Gunshots?”
Angela nodded. “I ran out of the dressing room and into the bouncer, who had come after me.”
“Does this bouncer have a name?”
“Brad. That’s all I ever heard him called. Anyway, he said Georgio wanted to see me. When I got to his office, Cornell was sitting in a chair, the front of his shirt covered in blood. I thought he was the one who’d been shot. I ran to him, but he pushed me away. He wouldn’t look at me. Wouldn’t talk to me.”
The dread swelled in Faith’s chest until every beat of her heart felt as if it were knocking against cement. She listened, stunned, as Angela told how Georgio had found Cornell standing over Walt’s dead body, the murder weapon in Cornell’s hand.
He’d shot Walt in the back of the head. He’d killed in cold blood an unarmed man walking away from him.
“No. Cornell would never do that. He couldn’t.” For a second Faith didn’t even realize that her anguished cries had come from her lips instead of just echoing through her entire being.
Travis pulled her to her feet and into his arms. He held her against him, so close she could feel his own heart beating against her chest.
When she finally stopped shaking, she pulled away. “Finish what you have to say, Angela.” She’d hear the words, but she would never believe her boy was a murderer.
“Cornell didn’t deny that he’d killed Walt. He was ready to call the cops and confess. Georgio convinced him that he shouldn’t.”
“Did he also convince him not to call me?” Faith asked. “I’m his mother. I should have been with him, helping him make the decisions that would follow him forever.”
“Cornell didn’t want to hurt you, Mrs. Ashburn. He was worried more about you than he was about himself.”
Worried, but he’d shut her out. He still was shutting her out. Somehow she’d failed him. A mother’s love hadn’t been enough.
The rest of the explanation began to blur in Faith’s mind. Georgio had offered Cornell a way out. He’d make sure no one connected him to a crime that might send him to the electric chair. All Cornell had to do was go into hiding until the investigation blew over.
Georgio had insisted Angela leave town as well, since the cops would surely question her about the murder. That way she wouldn’t have to lie to them.
Angela had encouraged Cornell to accept Georgio’s offer. She’d gone to the Jackrabbit Chase Ranch and lived in isolation, warned that the cops were looking for her and that she had to lie low. Cornell had gone to live with one of Georgio’s contacts living in Mexico, an American named Tom.
She’d talked to Cornell only on rare occasions after that. At first he’d told her that he was transporting horses across the border. It wasn’t until a couple weeks ago, when she’d overheard a conversation between Alex and Georgio, that she realized Cornell was smuggling contraband. That was when she’d become a prisoner instead of a guest.
“Alex had me call you a few nights ago. He made me tell you to stop searching for Cornell.”
“You also said to stay away from Georgio.”
“That was only to throw you off. You must hate me for the role I played in this,” Angela said.
“I’m not sure how I feel about you,” Faith said.
“I understand and I don’t blame you if you hate me. Just drive me to the border. I’ll get out of your life forever.”
But it was too late for that now. The damage was done. “No. You’re coming back to Dallas with us,” Faith said. “The lies, the blackmail, the fear—it has to end. Besides, you’ve already confessed everything to the best homicide detective in Dallas. There’s no point in running.”
A homicide detective who’d be instrumental in sending her son to prison for the rest of his life, if not the electric chair.
If she’d had any hope of a future with Travis, it had just come to an end, along with all her dreams for Cornell’s future.
“If I go back to Dallas, Georgio will track me down and have me killed,” Angela said. “Maybe that’s what I deserve.”
“It’s Georgio and Alex who need to get what they deserve,” Travis said. “I plan to make sure they do. In the meantime, I’ll get you full-time police protection.”
“Where will I live? I have no money. No job. No friends I can trust.”
“You’ll live at the Dry Gulch Ranch with Faith and me for now. R.J. wants family, and he’s about to get some, with all the complications that go with it. That won’t begin to make up for the pain and suffering he put me through when he left me to be raised by foster parents who hated and abused me.”
“I’m not family,” Angela said.
“Nor am I,” Faith added.
“That’s okay. He’ll like you both better than he ever liked me,” Travis said.
* * *
CORNELL JERKED AWAKE. Something furry was inside his pants, climbing up his thigh. He unzipped his jeans and shimmied out of them. The tarantula skimming his briefs was unperturbed.
He knocked the big creature away and leaned against the trunk of the tree he’d been sleeping under, trying to catch his breath and get his bearings.
The dregs of sleep disappeared and reality set in again. It was far more frightening than dealing with the wicked-looking spider.
The air was chilly. He’d lost his jacket, probably left it back at that horse barn he’d tried to sleep in last night.
He remembered sneaking out of the building before daylight when one of the mares began to neigh and stamp, protesting the nearness of the stranger who’d invaded her space. With only moonlight to illuminate his path, he’d stumbled upon a fence line and then followed the strings of barbwire until he’d reached the creek, where he’d stopped to rest and evidently fallen asleep.
He reached for his phone to check the time, then remembered he’d hurled it into the Rio Grande after making that last call to Dolores. He’d wanted Angela and his mother to know he was safe.
Safe. Georgio had promised him that once. What a joke. A man nobody crossed unless he had a suicide wish, though Cornell hadn’t figured that out until long after he’d sold his soul to the devil.
Now he had crossed the devil. Georgio wouldn’t know at first that it was Cornell who’d tipped off the border patrol that the horse trailer would be carrying more than steeds. But it wouldn’t matter.
He had screwed up. Georgio had no patience for people who screwed up, especially when they knew as much about his business as Cornell did.
But Cornell didn’t care anymore. They’d made a prisoner of Angela. Even if Cornell had continued to play by the rules, it was only a matter of time until Georgio came to the conclusion that he and Angela were dispensable.
It was past time for someone to take the monster down. All Cornell had to do was get to the police and tell all before Georgio found and killed him. Then both of them could rot in prison. A man should pay for his crimes.
Cornell pulled on his jeans and started walking again. By the time he reached a country road, the sun indicated it was midmorning. He walked along the shoulder, stopping to put up a thumb when a car passed.
He figured he’d walked a good two miles before someone finally slowed down. A black sedan with a man in the passenger seat.
“Need a lift?”
“If you’re going into Laredo.”
“Sure. Get in.”
Cornell took one step toward the car before he saw the gun. He started to run. Shots cracked through the still air. Blood splattered the ground around him like red rain.
He pushed on, staggering toward the fence. He grabbed for a fence post. He missed and the earth rose to meet him. The world went black.
But he could hear his mother’s voice calling to him, pleading with him to come home.
“I love you, Mother. I’m so sorry I let you down.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Sounds awful fishy to me,” Reno said. “Did Cornell even own a gun?”
“Not according to Faith. And I don’t remember a body showing up outside the Passion Pit ten months ago.”
“Had there been, we would definitely have remembered, since we were already knocking ourselves out trying to find some solid evidence against Georgio.”
“We had evidence,” Travis corrected. “An eyewitness who conveniently fell from a ladder and died before he could testify.”
“And now we have Cornell, who could possibly testify that Georgio had him kill Walt, except that his testimony would also send Cornell to prison, so why confess? Georgio always manages to stay ahead of the game.”
“Only why would Cornell go along with that?” Travis questioned. “Supposedly, he wasn’t an addict, so that counts out his doing it to get drugs. He had no police record, no juvenile infractions. No history of violence of any kind. I checked his school records just before I called you. He was never even suspended for fighting.”
“There’s always a first time, and women can bring out the worst in a guy.”
“So I’ve heard.”