Cowboy Alibi

by Paula Graves

  Joe tucked his arm around Jane’s waist and guided her toward the cashier’s booth to cash in his chips. “You’re quite the little storyteller, aren’t you?” he murmured, his lips brushing the tip of her ear. A spark of pure electricity zigzagged through her at the light touch.

  “Got us the information we were looking for,” she replied softly.

  “If it’s the same guy,” Joe warned.

  The cashier took the chips and started handing Joe cash. Jane watched her count out the bills, her eyes widening with surprise. He had won over $3,000 at the blackjack table.

  “I get the feeling you’ve gambled before,” she murmured as they stepped into the midday sunlight outside the casino and started west toward their motel.

  He gave her a considering look, dropping his arm from her waist. He faced forward, quickening his pace. “I don’t make a habit of it.”

  Jane hurried to stay in step. “Took guts to double down with the dealer holding ten.”

  He glanced at her. “How would you know?”

  She stumbled to a halt, considering the question. “I have no idea.”

  He paused and looked back at her, a little frown creasing his brow. He released a soft sigh and motioned with his head. “Come on. Let’s get back to the hotel. I could use a rest before we go looking for your con man.”

  She caught up with him, putting her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry-I’m pushing you too hard.”

  He looked faintly horrified by the notion. “I’m fine. But we haven’t had a lot of sleep in the past few days.”

  She couldn’t hold back a soft chuckle. “Well, it helps to sell our newlywed cover story.”

  He slanted a look at her, his lips curved with a half grin that made her heart skip a beat.

  The Admiral Arms Motel was a couple of blocks off the strip, within walking distance of several of the town’s casinos. It hadn’t been exactly cheap, and they’d taken one of the last rooms available, but the room had been clean, with a pair of double beds. They’d even managed a few hours of uninterrupted sleep before rising early to start their tour of the casinos in search of information.

  Of course, the easiest way to find out who she really was would have been to head for the Reno Police Department, let them take her fingerprints and check them against their records. But she couldn’t risk it. What if she was wanted for more than being a con man’s shill?

  She hadn’t told Joe everything about her dream, only the memory of the con man and the certainty that she had known him here in Reno, although the more she thought about it, the sillier she felt about being so reticent. He already suspected her of complicity in his brother’s murder. What was fraud compared to that?

  Joe grabbed the phone book as soon as they got back to the room, sitting on the edge of the bed to thumb through the listings. “Well, what do you know? There’s no Lady Luck listed in the phone book.”

  Jane sat across from him on the other bed. She picked up the phone, drawing a small frown from Joe. She dialed the number for the front desk.

  A woman picked up. “Admiral Arms Motel.”

  “I’m trying to find a particular establishment in the phone book and I’m having no luck. A business associate asked me to meet him there later this evening. It’s a tavern called the Lady Luck, on Pridemore, but I’m not familiar with that part of town. Have you ever heard of the place?”

  There was a brief pause before the clerk answered. “I’ve heard of it. I’m sorry, I don’t know the phone number, but we do have city maps available for sale at the front desk if you’d like to pick one up. It will show you where Pridemore Avenue is.”

  “Thank you. I’ll do that.” Jane hung up.

  “No luck?”

  “Well, it exists. And it’s on Pridemore Avenue, I think. And going by the tone of her voice, the desk clerk thinks I’m nuts even to consider going there.” She pushed her fingers through her hair, scraping it back from her face. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”

  “A little.”

  She pushed off the bed. “Give me a ten and I’ll run down the strip to one of the burger joints for us.”

  He stood, as well. “I’ll come with you.”

  “Don’t be silly. You rest. I’ll be back in a flash.”

  “You’re not going anywhere without me.”

  She stared at him in growing dismay. “You mean you don’t trust me to go anywhere without you.”

  He shook his head. “I mean I don’t like the idea of you out there by yourself with someone gunning for us. We’re safer together.”

  He was right, she knew, but she wasn’t sure he was telling her the whole truth, either. Clearly, he didn’t trust her, and who could blame him? A woman with a hidden past, a dangerous present and an uncertain future? She wasn’t even sure she trusted herself. What if her past came rushing back to her while she was out there alone? What would she remember? What might she do?

  She nodded finally, conceding his point. “Okay. You’re right. Together it is.”

  She followed him out of the motel room.

  JOE AND Jane bought a couple of burgers and shared an order of fries at one of the fast-food joints not far from the motel. At midday, the temperature was nearing seventy degrees, warm enough for Jane to suggest they eat their meal at one of the outdoor tables.

  “Have you ever been to Reno before?” Jane asked Joe.

  He shook his head. “Some buddies and I took a trip to Vegas once, during spring holiday, but not Reno.”

  “I think I like Idaho better. Closer to the mountains.”

  He finished his hamburger and wadded up the paper wrapper, spinning it between his fingers on the concrete table in front of him. “I went to college in Texas,” he said, smiling at the memory of his four years in College Station. “Hot as hell from March until October, and flat as a pancake. I missed the Rockies.”

  “I wonder how long I lived here in Reno.” Her green-eyed gaze swept over the street scene in front of the hamburger joint as if seeking something familiar.

  “What do you remember? Besides just being here, I mean,” he added when she turned to look at him.

  “Not much,” she admitted. “A street scene. The black-haired man playing three-card monte.”

  “What makes you think this man can tell you anything about yourself?”

  She sighed, bending a thin French fry between her restless fingers. “I’m pretty sure I worked for him.”

  The confession shouldn’t have surprised him. God knew he’d thought much worse things of her. But her soft admission made his heart sink. “Worked for him how?”

  “In one memory I had, I picked a man’s pocket on his cue.” Her gaze skittered away from his, her face flushed. “And in a later dream, I was talking a mark into a shell game the man was running.”

  “How do you know these memories are real?”

  She plucked at the bun of her half-eaten hamburger. “I guess I wasn’t sure. Not until we talked to that blackjack dealer and he knew the man I was describing.”

  “Do you know how old you were then?”

  “I don’t even know how old I am now.” She looked up suddenly, an eager light in her eyes. “Do you?”

  “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “You told me you were twenty-five when we first met. That was almost a year ago. But I don’t know-”

  “You don’t know if I was telling the truth,” she finished for him. She looked down at her sandwich for a moment, then folded it in its wrapping paper and stuck it back in the paper bag where they’d put their trash. “Why don’t we head back to the motel and get a little rest?”

  He caught her hand, stilling her movements as she started to stand. “It probably wasn’t a lie,” he told her. “You’re probably twenty-six.”

  “But you don’t know,” she said sadly. “You don’t know that anything I told you was the truth, do you?”

  He couldn’t deny it.

  She slipped her hand away from his, picked up the bag of trash and put it in the nearest
trash bin. He had to hurry to catch up with her, falling into stride as she reached the sidewalk. “Do you want me to lie to you and tell you I think everything you said was the truth, even what I know were lies?”

  She halted, turning to look at him, her eyes narrowed against the bright sun. “No. Of course not. I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at myself. Or whoever it was I used to be.” She sighed, pressing her fingertips to her forehead as if trying to rub away a headache.

  He touched her arm, making her look at him. “Let’s just go back to the motel and rest a little while. A nap will do us both some good.”

  She didn’t move, even as he gestured for her to join him in resuming their walk back to the motel. He stopped after a couple of steps and turned back to her.

  “Do you still think I killed your brother?” she asked.

  The question caught him by surprise. He’d had exclusive, private access to her for a couple of days now, and the subject of his brother’s murder had barely come up in all that time.

  Did he even think of her as a suspect anymore? Had he ever, really?

  Her expression betrayed both fear and hope. “Do you?”

  “No,” he admitted. “I don’t think you killed Tommy.”

  She released a soft breath, her eyes fluttering closed for a second.

  “But you know who did,” he added.

  Her eyes snapped open. “So do you. Clint Holbrook.”

  He nodded. “I think so. I think you may have seen it happen.”

  “I saw it happen?” She looked queasy. “How did he die?”

  “He was shot.” Joe closed his eyes, trying not to remember the images of his brother’s murder scene. “If Clint knows you saw it, it could be why he came after you.”

  “He could have killed me in the apartment. He could have killed me at the cabin. But he didn’t.”

  Joe nodded. “I’d like to know why he didn’t. Wouldn’t you?”

  She looked away, her gaze turning toward the mountains to the west of the city. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “He wants me enough to kill people to get to me. That doesn’t speak well of me, no matter how you slice it.”

  He brushed a piece of hair away from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear, his breath catching when she turned to him, her lips parted and a question in her eyes. He dropped his hand to his side. “If you don’t want to go to the Lady Luck tonight, we don’t have to.”

  She sighed. “No. We should go.” She started walking again, her pace quick and determined.

  He followed, his own pace less hurried, his strides just quick enough to keep her from moving too far ahead.

  She was right about one thing. Clint Holbrook wanted her enough to kill people to get to her, including his brother. And until they figured out why, neither one of them would be safe.

  “SO, YOU WERE counting cards, weren’t you?” As they reached the motel parking lot, Jane broke the silence they’d maintained for most of their walk back to the motel.

  Joe shot her a look as they started up the stairs to the second floor. “That would be wrong.”

  She grinned at the flicker of amusement in his eyes. “One day in Reno and Cowboy Joe loses all his ethics.”

  “Not all of ’em-” He pulled to an abrupt stop as they reached the second floor, catching Jane off guard. She stumbled into him, grabbing his shoulder.

  His arm swept back, keeping her tucked behind him. “Can I help you?” he said to someone hidden from her view. Curious, Jane craned her neck to see around Joe’s broad shoulders.

  Standing in front of the door to their room was the dark-haired man from her memory flashes. His hair was still long and thick, swept back from his wide forehead in a lush black mane. The silver at his temples had spread to the rest of his hair, streaking the black with liberal strands of white, but there was no doubt he was the man she’d worked for as a shill.

  He caught sight of Jane and for a second, his expression reflected a hint of surprise and something a bit darker. But he recovered quickly, greeting them with a nod. “Actually, I think maybe I can help you. The name’s Harlan Dugan. I hear you’re lookin’ for me.”

  Joe stepped forward carefully, keeping Jane tucked safely behind him. “Looking for you?”

  Jane pulled away from Joe’s grasp. “Do you know me?”

  For a second, the man’s expression shifted, revealing surprise. But his mask of calm confidence quickly returned. “I can tell you that,” he said with a broad smile. “For a price.”

  “It’s a price you’re not gonna want to pay, Harlan!” The booming voice rattled the Airstream’s screen door, making her jump. She looked up in alarm.

  “I can have the whole thing for you by tomorrow morning. Guaranteed.” Harlan’s voice carried through the hot desert air as surely as it carried through a gathered crowd on a Reno back street. “Just give me till tomorrow.”

  The desperation in his voice made her stomach coil into an anxious knot. She looked away from the Airstream, blinking against the afterimage of the sun’s hot glare on the trailer’s silver side, and picked up the walnut shell she’d dropped.

  “What kind of price?” Joe asked the man blocking the path to their motel room door, jerking Jane’s mind back to the present.

  “That can be negotiated,” Harlan said, looking at Jane. He smiled again. “The red hair is new.”

  She touched her choppy bob. “It’s normally brown.”

  “I remember.” Faint affection glittered in his eyes. “You used to wear it braided all the time.”

  “So you really do know me.”

  His brow furrowed. “What happened to you, girl?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Amnesia?”

  “Can you tell her who she is or not?” Joe growled.

  Jane caught his arm, squeezing. He looked at her.

  “There’s always a price,” she said, shivering despite the desert sun warming her face.

  “I’ve known people like you,” Joe said, contempt in his voice. “I’ve put them all in jail. The Reno police might be interested in your little extortion scheme-”

  “Can you risk it?” Harlan countered coolly. “How do you know she’s not wanted by the Reno police? Since she can’t remember who she is.”

  Jane let go of Joe’s arm and looked away, another memory dancing just out of reach.

  “What’s the price?” Joe asked with a sigh.

  “I understand you had some success at the casinos,” Harlan said. “About three grand’s worth.”

  “Go to hell,” Joe said, putting his arm around Jane and starting to go around Harlan Dugan.

  “Are you sure you want to risk it?” Harlan asked.

  Joe stopped within a foot of him. He towered over Harlan Dugan, who was only a couple of inches taller than Jane herself. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Someone’s looking for her, am I right?” Harlan looked around Joe, meeting Jane’s eyes. “Someone I don’t think you want to find you.”

  Joe grabbed the front of Harlan’s shirt. “Stop it with the games, old man.”

  “I’m tired of your games, old man!” A giant of a man, burly and bald, burst through the screen door and strode outside the Airstream trailer, his snakeskin boots thudding against the hard-packed soil a few feet from where she sat, legs crossed, practicing with the walnut shells.

  She tucked her knees up to her chin, ducking her head as he turned to yell at Harlan, who stood in the doorway. “Two grand by tomorrow at noon!”

  The bald man straddled his dusty motorcycle, revving the engine for effect, and drove off, kicking up a cloud of dust behind him.

  She looked up as Harlan stepped outside, scratching the side of his neck in a nervous gesture she knew meant bad news. He crossed to where she sat. She could smell his fear mingling with the odor of tobacco smoke and sweat. “Come on, kitten. We gotta go to work now.”

  “Do I have to?” she asked, her stomach hurting.

  Jane jerked her head up and looked
at Harlan Dugan, realization dawning. He met her gaze, his eyes narrowing as he realized the game was over.

  “Tell her who she is,” Joe warned him, his fingers still curled in the front of Harlan’s shirt.

  “I’m his daughter,” Jane said.

  Chapter Eleven

  Joe stepped back, releasing Harlan Dugan’s shirt. He looked at Jane, his expression tinged with both surprise and concern. “His daughter?”

  “So you remember me now?” Harlan asked, his face an impenetrable mask.

  “Not entirely,” she said. “Just enough to know you used me as your shill from the time I was a child.”

  “People always fall for the kids,” Harlan said with a faint smile. “And you were good, kitten. Real good. You were a natural with a story.”

  Jane looked away, her stomach roiling. Joe’s hand settled in the middle of her back, but she drew away, not wanting him to touch her right now.

  Harlan looked at the motel room door. “Reckon we could go inside and have a little sit-down? I’m not as young as I used to be, and all this standing around is bad on my knees.”

  Jane looked at Joe. He seemed reluctant, but after a brief pause, he unlocked the motel room door and ushered Jane and her father inside.

  Harlan took a seat at the small table by the window, leaving Jane and Joe to sit on the edge of the nearer bed. “This place is nicer on the inside than it looks on the outside,” Harlan commented. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “You mind?”

  “Yes,” Jane said firmly, the phantom smell of tobacco lingering with her, making her stomach churn even more.

  Harlan put the half-empty pack back in his breast pocket and drummed his fingers on the table. “Why were you looking for me?”

  “What’s her name?” Joe asked.

  Harlan looked at him. “Who are you, anyway?”

  “He’s a friend,” Jane said firmly.

  Harlan looked around the motel room, taking in the signs of obvious cohabitation. “Should I be saving up to pay for the wedding?”

  “Just tell her what her name is.” Joe’s voice was low and tight, the look in his eyes deadly.

  “Shannon,” Harlan answered after a short pause. “Shannon Erica Dugan. Born on Valentine’s Day twenty-six years ago.”