by Lynn, Sheryl
She slumped on the chair. Bernie had gone too far this time. No judge would give her leniency in a kidnapping case, especially if it were proved she murdered the kidnap victim.
“I guess the FBI has already taken Bernie away. Is there a number where I can call her? I want to make sure she’s okay.”
“She’s still in town. In fact, she won’t leave until she talks to you. Albright wants to know if you’re up for it.”
“What? Since when does Bernie dictate to the FBI?”
Tate sat beside her on the futon and picked up her hand. “Your sister has more brass than a war college. If she keeps her mouth shut, the only thing the feds can charge her with is grand theft auto and possibly criminal negligence in Tim Robertson’s death. Even if we charge her locally with grand larceny, and Arizona and Nevada add some charges, she’ll be back on the streets in five years, ten years max.”
“What about kidnapping? Murder? International terrorists?”
“No evidence. She’s the only one who can ID Montgomery. The only one who knows where Farrah is. The only one who can testify that the portfolio was ever in Farrah’s hands. It looks like Farrah was taking it to the bank to stash it. Albright hinted that the safety-deposit box and the portfolio contain enough information to take down Montgomery’s entire operation.”
Diana didn’t know whether to laugh or despair. Only Bernie could turn a situation like this to her advantage. “So why does she want to talk to me?”
“Let’s get some food into you, then go find out.”
DIANA AND TATE ENTERED the conference room at the sheriff’s station. Agent Albright made introductions between them and a federal prosecutor and Bernie’s attorney. Bernie wore handcuffs, but she was the only one smiling.
“They’re offering me immunity.”
“Immunity from what?” Diana asked.
Bernie’s mouth pursed in a mischievous smirk. She batted her eyelashes at the glowering federal prosecutor. “Everything.”
Diana couldn’t believe it. One woman was missing, presumed dead. An innocent in Arizona was dead merely because she had the misfortune to buy Diana’s condo. Five men had died. Gil was still in the hospital. FBI agents had been run off the road and nearly killed. An assassin had escaped.
And don’t forget all the property damage.
It boggled her mind. That no man in the room disputed the comment said Bernie was telling the truth.
“Why?”
Bernie rolled her shoulders in a lazy shrug. She toyed with the chain linking the cuffs. “I know things.”
“Ms. Dover,” the prosecutor said, “your sister has agreed to cooperate with our investigation and testify against Douglas Montgomery and others in exchange for blanket immunity from prosecution on either a local or federal level.”
“So why am I here?”
“If I agree to cooperate,” Bernie said, “I’m dead meat. Doug is, like, one of the richest guys in the world. So they’re going to put me into the Witness Protection Program.”
Again, no one disputed Bernie. “Witness protection, huh?” She looked to Tate, but his impassive cop face told her nothing. “And you aren’t prosecuted for anything.”
“That’s the deal.”
Diana wanted to ask if Bernie had murdered Farrah Montgomery, but doubted if an answer would be forthcoming. “We’re on this earth to experience life. To get back to God, we have to learn our lessons. We have to own what we do, take responsibility, show wisdom in the use of free will.”
Bernie pulled a face. “Geez, what happened to you? Turned into a preacher or something?”
“What happens to you if you don’t get immunity? If you take full responsibility for your actions?”
She snorted a laugh. “Not take immunity? You’re out of your mind, sister. First place, prison sucks. Second place, I’ve got a feeling old Dougie is a lot meaner than the FBI.”
Diana rose. Her shoulder ached and itched, the burn going deep. She resisted the urge to scratch. “Then we have nothing else to say to each other.”
Bernie stretched her hands toward Diana. “Hey, if I take this deal, I’m going to disappear. We’ll never see each other again. No calls, no letters, not even a birthday card. It’ll be like I never existed.”
Just when Diana felt convinced her sister could no longer surprise her, Bernie surprised her. She sounded genuinely pained by the prospect of permanent separation. Even more surprising, Bernie wanted Diana’s blessing. “You have to go where your conscience takes you.”
“Hmm. Guess your life will be better if you don’t see me again. I probably embarrass you.”
“You fluster me, confuse me.” She shook her head. “Infuriate me. But you don’t embarrass me.”
“You’re still better off without me hanging around.” She turned a dazzling smile on Tate. He jerked as if she physically touched him. “You do have the Incredible Hulk, here. Do you treat her good, man?”
“Bernie, please. Not now.”
“This is my last chance to talk to you.” She looked between Diana and Tate. “Oh man, you guys are in love. That is so cool. Maybe I should work on finding somebody nice. I’m getting kind of old for bad boys.”
Bernie slumped back on the chair, her grin as saucy and unrepentant as ever. “You know, Di, if I was strong and smart like you, I’d do the right thing. Take my lumps. But hell with that. Immunity it is.” Her smile faded, and for a brief moment Diana saw the child she’d once been, the beloved twin who’d been as close as her own skin. Bernie’s throat worked in a hard swallow. “I didn’t think you’d talk to me. I’m glad you did.”
“I’m glad, too. But I have to warn you, if you don’t learn your lessons in this life, you’ll have to learn them in the next.”
“I’m willing to wait. And I promise you, I won’t waste the money Mom left me. I’ll do something good with it.” She gestured at her attorney. “Bring on the paperwork. I’m ready to sign my life away.”
The prosecutor cleared his throat. “You do understand, Ms. O’Malley, that this deal is only good as long as you tell the truth, the whole truth. If we catch you in one lie, all bets are off.”
“Sweetie pie, with a deal like this, you’re gonna hear so many truths, you’ll want to etch them in stone.”
Diana canted her head toward Bernie and asked tacit permission from Albright. He nodded. She hugged Bernie and kissed her cheeks. She didn’t bother reminding her to be good. It was a waste of breath. Tate took her arm, and she headed for the door.
“Di?”
“Yes?”
“I never told you I’m sorry. For all the trouble. The mess. Getting shot at. Your friend getting hurt. I really am sorry.”
Bernie had never apologized for anything in her life. Diana decided she must mean it. “Apology accepted. Take care. I’ll see you in the next life.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Tate asked Consuela.
She lifted her chin, her dark eyes filled with triumph. She looked around at the Track Shack’s dining room. New vinyl flooring gleamed in the soft glow of sparkling clean light fixtures. A rainbow of neat tablecloths covered brand-new oak tables built by Consuela’s oldest son. The chairs had been covered in matching upholstery by Consuela’s talented daughters and nieces. Early morning sunlight outlined the window painting of a narrow-gauge coal train puffing through the mountains. Gold letters, in an Old West style, proudly spelled out Track Shack Bar and Grill. Instead of tacky neon beer advertisements, the walls were hung with Navaho blankets, Ute baskets, paintings by local artists and old mining tools.
Business had never been better. Even the crustiest old regular approved of the changes.
Consuela held out a hand for a pen. “This is my dream.”
Tate nodded at the attorney, who then pointed out where Consuela needed to sign the purchase contract. With a flourish, she handed over an earnest money check. The attorney placed the check and contract in a folder. “I’ll set up the closing
and let you know when and where.” He shook hands with them both and left the bar.
“Why didn’t you tell me before that you wanted to buy the Shack?” Tate asked.
Consuela sniffed. “You never asked.”
“I’ll be cleared out of my apartment by the end of the day. If you have renovations in mind, go for it.” Chuckling to himself, he walked away.
“Tate?”
He turned back to her.
“You’re a good man. A lousy restaurant manager, but a good man. You run for sheriff in this town.” She tapped the center of her chest. “I’ll vote for you. All my relatives will vote for you, too.”
That would be a hundred votes, easy. “Thanks.”
He practically floated to his apartment. Diana was hard at work in the apartment, packing books into cartons. “Well?” she asked.
He showed his palms. “It’s done. A cash deal that will clear my debts and leave me enough to put a down payment on a new truck.”
“Good for you.” She pointed at a stack of magazines. “Pack or recycle?”
He slid a hand over the back of his neck. “Ric offered me his trailer. If you have second thoughts about me moving out to your farm, I understand.”
“I offered because I meant it. Why are you having second thoughts?”
The time was past for any secrets between them. He swung a chair around and sat backward on it. “I’m broke. It’ll take me awhile to get on my feet again. Replacing the windows and doors in your house must have cost a fortune. Plus, Consuela wants her relatives to work here, so you’re out of a job. And you have doctor bills.”
“You aren’t seriously worried about money, are you?”
He couldn’t even look at her.
“I’m not poor,” she said. “I live the way I do out of choice. In fact, some people might say I’m rich.” She crossed the room and cupped his face in her hands. “I know you won’t ask me for money, not even for a loan. So I won’t bother offering. Just rest assured that you living at my place does not cause me any kind of economic hardship.”
“You’re rich?”
She stroked his cheeks with her thumbs. Merry light made her eyes sparkle. “Rich is relative. In today’s economy a few million is pretty piddly.”
A few million. He suspected he could live to be a thousand years old, and she’d never cease to amaze him. “So why were you working for me in the Shack?”
“I told you, I wanted to be close to you.” She kissed his nose. She stared into his eyes. “I want you to live at the farm for purely selfish reasons. I’m madly in love with you, Tate Raleigh.”
His heart felt too big for his chest. “I love you, too.”
“I know.” She kissed his nose again. “I also know you will not be pushed, prodded or manipulated. If you don’t want to move in with me, that’s okay. I can find other ways to pester you.”
He turned his head and gazed upon the photograph of Lisa. “As long as we’re being honest here, I have to lay it out for you.”
“Okay.”
Her accepting manner frightened him in a way he couldn’t define. Maybe because he didn’t feel deserving. But she deserved the truth and nothing but. “I loved my wife. We were going to stay married forever. But I couldn’t love her enough. I couldn’t hang with her when she needed me the most.”
A line appeared between her brows. “I don’t see it that way, but I understand why you do.”
He slid a hand beneath her shirt until his palm rested against her scarred chest. The smoothness of her skin felt strange, but not unpleasant. “This scares me.”
“I know.”
“I couldn’t bear to let you down because I’m a coward.”
“I know that, too.”
“I can’t make you any promises.”
“I’m not asking for any.” She trailed her fingers through his hair. Her face was so calm and wise and beautiful he could barely bear to look at her. “For the first thirty-six years of my life I thought only perfect people were worthy of love. That love meant making demands, forcing changes, molding people into ideals. To cause disappointment was the gravest of sins. That isn’t love. It’s fear. What I know now is that love is acceptance. It’s surrender. Love just is. That you are so hot and an incredible lover is a bonus. I love you, the whole package. Whatever happens, happens. Nothing will change the fact that I love you and I always will.”
His insides felt like mush. “And if I disappoint you?”
“Then we’ll have a big fight and really wild make-up sex.”
He laughed. “So you’re willing to take a chance on me.”
She kissed his mouth then moved away. “I’m not the one who has a problem with that. It’s you.”
DIANA STEPPED INTO the shower and lifted her face to the pounding water. She and Tate had spent all afternoon worming seven very uncooperative goats. Marlee had given her specific instructions, but the execution had proved far more interesting and strenuous than theory.
“Hey, honey,” Tate said. He rapped his knuckles on the shower door. “The timer went off for your bread. Should I pull it out?”
Tate knew his way around a kitchen, but the finer points of baking eluded him. She slid the door open enough to see him clearly. He was already showered and dressed in his deputy’s uniform. Broad shoulders and bulging biceps strained the khaki shirt. The equipment belt fit snugly around his lean waist. Sexy. She wondered if they had enough time for a quickie before he went to work. If they skipped dinner…
He shook a finger at her. “Quit looking at me like that.”
“I know how you can wipe that look off my face.”
“Yeah, then I’ll be late to work.” He backed a step. “How do I tell if the bread is done?”
“Thump the loaves. If it sounds good and solid, it’s done.” She watched his backside while he walked away. Maybe when he got home they could play sexy cop and naughty prisoner. She slid the door closed.
This summer had been heaven. She and Tate had settled into housekeeping as if they’d lived together all their lives. He was even getting used to the animals. When she mentioned getting a horse for him, he hadn’t discounted the idea and even acted a tad interested. The only sore point was that Tippy had decided Tate was the love of his life, and when Tate went to work, Tippy howled his misery for a good twenty or thirty minutes.
She washed her hair and soaped up her body, rinsed, then lifted her right arm over her head. She probed her armpit. All was well. She shifted to her left side. She was growing used to the pock-mark scars left by the shotgun pellets and splinters. Good thing Tate adored her butt and legs. After examining her breast, she moved her fingers to her armpit.
As soon as she touched the lump, she knew it wasn’t scar tissue. Her belly lurched and her eyelids snapped open. She pushed at the tiny lump in her lymph nodes. It was solid, but she could manipulate it. When she pressed hard, it hurt, but otherwise it didn’t.
Fear rose. That the lump was in her armpit as opposed to her breast could indicate an infection, or it could mean cancer cells had escaped treatment and now metastasized into her system.
“Okay, God, I’m scared, but not immobilized. What happens, happens. I can deal with it.” She stepped out of the shower and dried off. Her hands trembled. She could deal with the cancer recurring. She didn’t know if Tate could. She wrapped the towel around her body and walked out of the bedroom.
Tate was setting the table for dinner. He lifted a smile, but it faded. “What’s the matter, honey?”
“I found a lump.” She raised her arm and pointed to her armpit. Fear made the lump feel as big as an orange. She blinked back tears. “I’ll go to Durango first thing in the morning to get it checked out.”
His head moved in a slight nod.
When he didn’t ask questions, or say anything at all, she returned to the bedroom and dressed.
They ate dinner. He told her Gil Vance had decided to officially announce his retirement. Gil had offered Tate his full support in a run fo
r sheriff. Diana thought that was a very good idea. He’d do an excellent job.
He didn’t say a word about the lump. He didn’t look her in the eye.
A spiritual leader had told Diana, “True faith isn’t believing in God. It’s the conviction that no matter how weak, fearful, wretched, skeptical or downright disbelieving you are, you know that God believes in you.”
Diana felt Tate’s lack of faith in himself as if it were a dark little animal squatting on the table between them. When she kissed him goodbye, she said, “I’ll always love you.”
He brushed her cheek with a kiss, but failed to say he loved her back.
“PUT THAT NO-GOOD BUM on the street,” Marlee Crowder exclaimed.
Diana gave her friend a dry look. Arms folded, expression stormy, Marlee leaned against a stainless steel counter in the exam room. Marlee had dropped everything to accompany Diana to the hospital in Durango. Diana sat on a paper-covered table. She wore a paper gown, tied in front, and wished the doctor would hurry up. It was cold.
“You’ve been outraged for hours now,” Diana said. “It isn’t healthy. All that negative energy.”
“Why aren’t you outraged? How can you make excuses for him?” She curled her upper lip. “Had to stay at the station and write up accident reports? Right. If he really loved you, he’d be here. You’re too good for him. Just boot his butt right out of your house. Tate Raleigh isn’t good enough to lick your feet. Ought to run him out of town!”
The doctor bustled into the room. A nurse bearing a tray followed. Short, dark and all business, the doctor turned to Marlee. “You might want to wait outside.”
“I’m a veterinarian, I won’t faint.” Marlee clasped Diana’s hand. “I’m with you all the way, girlfriend.”
“Then stand on the other side of the table.” The doctor scrubbed her hands then snapped on fresh gloves.
At the sight of a hypodermic needle Diana’s courage wavered. This was going to hurt. She untied the gown and stretched out on the table. She turned on her side and raised her arm to expose her armpit. The doctor palpated the area, then lowered the needle.