“Made you leave?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“He told me to butt out of police business and that I was going to get myself killed.”
Jack snorted.
Collin said, “He sounds like an intelligent guy.”
“Ha ha,” I said. “Except that he told me to meet him somewhere private. When I got there—”
Jack shouted, “When you what?”
“When I got there.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
I turned away from him. “As I was trying to say, when I got there, he was weird. He all but admitted he’d been following me.”
Jack made another loud noise, but I didn’t stop. Snowflake had buried her head under her paws and looked like she needed a Valium.
“Because earlier that day, when I was at the orthodontist’s office, he showed up there, too. And of course he showed up to arrest me when Mary Alice Hodges called on the wrath of God.”
“Arrested you?” Collin asked. The corners of his lips curved up millimeters short of a grin.
“Long story.” One I didn’t want to relive. “It was all very mysterious, and then a security guard banged on the car, and Burrows left.” I paused to take a drink of water.
Jack crossed his arms. “Is that all?”
“Almost.”
Jack threw his hands in the air. He wasn’t usually this open and dramatic, except around Mickey, but then they went back to childhood as cousins and best friends. Well, I’d asked Jack to communicate better, so I guess I was getting what I asked for. Sort of.
My eyelids fluttered a smidge as I answered him. “On Christmas Eve, Nadine told me a friend of hers was scared of a bad cop. She had the friend call me. The friend said her name was Beth, and we agreed to meet at her place at noon. When I got there, she was on her back patio. Dead.”
“That, I knew about.”
Ava put her hand over her heart. “Yesterday, when I got there?”
I pursed my lips and nodded. “Right before, actually.” I looked at Jack. “Here’s the part I haven’t talked to you about. When we were leaving church last night, Samson pulled me aside.”
“Now you get around to telling me.” Jack said.
This time I didn’t spar with him. “Yes. He was pretty okay, actually, and apologized about my arrest and the phone, but he did ask me how I ended up at the scene of the murder of a dancer from the Polo Club. That’s a strip bar,” I explained to the group. “Nadine knew her as Beth, but she’d introduced herself to Jack and me as Ivanka when we met her at a truck stop the night of another murder.”
A gasp from the doorway cut me off. It was Greg, looking extremely young with the black knit cap gone, his hair shiny and straight, and clean clothes on his lanky frame. Farrah stood beside him. I wondered how long they’d been standing there, but knew they could have heard us from anywhere in the house.
Farrah whispered, “Oh my God,” into the sudden silence, and buried her face in Greg’s shoulder.
***
Laura had already reached the kids before I got my first word out.
“What is it?” I asked them. But I was sure I knew. They’d heard me say that someone who’d been at the truck stop was murdered. Whether there was a connection to what they saw or not, it had to be terrifying. I’d be scared if I were them, too.
Laura patted Greg, then went to the other side of Farrah and slipped an arm around the girl’s waist. The two were almost exactly the same height, although Farrah was even slighter than Laura. Greg shook his head at me. Laura whispered to him, and the three of them left the room. Snowflake sprinted to catch up to them.
Jack put his hand on my knee again, and this time I didn’t object. We looked at each other, and he shook his head, just barely perceptibly. “Anything else, Emily?”
That I love you even if I want to string you up by your heels right now? That I wish I hadn’t yelled at you in front of everyone? That I want you to put your arms around me and make this all better? When I opened my mouth, a whisper came out: “No.”
Jack squeezed my knee.
“Luckily I’ve got all weekend with nothing to do,” Collin said. He stood up. “But right now, I’m going for seconds.”
Jack said, “Me, too.” He let go of my knee and followed Collin.
I snapped out of my daze and shifted to go after him, but Ava stopped me by wrapping a hand around my arm, her long fingernails clicking together as she did.
She leaned in. “I so lost. What up with this place, these people?”
“It’s never like this.”
She chuptzed me, and I almost laughed. “You lie, I think. But that okay. I used to the melee from Katie and Nick.”
“They’re in another league.”
“More important question: are you and your boss an item, or not?”
“I wish I knew.” Maybe. Sometimes. “Right now I’m having trouble trusting him.”
“About your daddy?”
“Yeah. About him.”
“Seem like Jack have good intent.”
I sighed. “He probably does. But he almost never tells me what’s going on.”
“He look good though.”
Now I laughed and stood. “Yes, he does.”
“And it appear from last night you like he tongue down your throat or wherever it was I see it.”
I squawked.
Ava laughed. “That better.”
Collin came back into the great room and held his hand out to Ava. “Madame, your manservant awaits his next instruction.” He bowed.
She fanned herself. “I like the sound of that.”
The two of them walked ahead of me into the kitchen. Laura and the kids had disappeared. Judith was placing a giant CorningWare serving dish out on the counter, full of something with a bubbling top that smelled like cinnamon and spice and everything nice. There was a tub of Blue Bell Vanilla Bean ice cream beside it, along with a stack of dessert bowls and a bunch of spoons. I decided to skip seconds and go straight for the good stuff. I dug a serving spoon into the virgin surface of the as-yet-to-be-identified dessert. I ladled out a large chunk. Bread pudding. I put my hand on the side of the serving dish. Still warm. I added two scoops of vanilla ice cream. I looked around the once-again crowded room. No one seemed to be watching me.
As quietly as I could, I walked to the stairs, still keeping one eye on everyone in the kitchen. I tiptoed up each tread unnoticed. When I came to my room, I turned the handle and ducked in the door. I closed it softly, releasing the knob only when the tongue was positioned over the recess in the latch.
Peace. I sat down, taking a moment to breathe. Then I set the bowl on the side table along with my phone. A moment of guilt gave me pause. I’d snuck out before we’d even opened presents. But Laura had left with the kids, so I was off the hook. I flopped backward onto the fluffy white comforter and landed with my head in the mountain of pillows. What a day. What a long and difficult day.
I reached out for my phone. I was relieved to see a text from Wallace, although it wasn’t in the group string with Nadine. And I had another from an 806 number I didn’t recognize. A sense of dread crept into my chest. Betsy.
I pulled Wallace’s text up first: Please oh please oh please God let Emily not have done something incredibly stupid that will reflect poorly on me and keep her from being approved to adopt.
It didn’t sound like anything had happened to Betsy. More like I’d done something. What in Hades are you talking about? I hit send.
Then I opened the other text: This is Byron from CPS. Wallace gave me your number. He said you communicate best by text. Please call me at your earliest convenience.
Oh geez. Iciness flowed over my face. Byron was the CPS investigator working on Greg’s and Farrah’s cases.
Wallace responded: Tell me you aren’t with them. Please.
If push came to shove, I could answer that one truthfully, but it wasn’t time to show my hand yet. With WHOM? Please give
me a little to go on.
I chewed the ragged edge of my now swollen hangnail. Could Byron have any other reason to call me except about Greg and Farrah? Maybe, but probably not. Could Wallace possibly be referring to anyone other than the two teenagers? Maybe, but probably not. Put the two together, and the answer to the first changed to “not likely.”
Wallace: G & F.
Just because I expected it didn’t mean I didn’t throw up a little in my mouth when I read it. I couldn’t honestly say I wasn’t with them. But I could pretend to misinterpret the question. Then I could be truthful. No, I don’t have them. Has there been news? Send.
Wallace: Anonymous phone tip to Byron.
Oh no, oh God, no, no, no. Who knew the kids contacted me? Jack was the only one who knew everything. I closed my eyes and pictured every move I’d made with the kids in Amarillo. I hadn’t seen anyone following us. My mother had never known there were teenagers in our house. So how, how could someone have seen me with them in Amarillo? They couldn’t have. They just couldn’t have.
That left Jack. What if Jack had told someone? Even one person in passing would have been enough. It had to have been him, even if it was only an accident, it had to have been him. Because it sure wasn’t me.
I answered: Crazy! I’ll call him.
I stared at the phone. I had no idea what to say to Byron. In a text, I could evade his questions. A call was harder. Voice mail would be ideal, but he had to be expecting my call; he’d called on Christmas day. He’d be watching for my number.
My number. Not a random number. That was the answer. I’d call from a house phone. I looked around the room. No phone. Jack’s bedroom down the hall might have one. There might be one in the kitchen or the office, but I didn’t want to go back downstairs.
Spit.
I put my phone’s ringer on silent and turned out the light. I slipped out the door and crept down the hall away from the staircase. Jack’s door was closed, but his light was out. Holding my breath, I turned the handle even more carefully than I’d turned my own a few minutes before. I eased the door open a generous crack and ducked in, then repeated the silent shutting of the door and latch.
I exhaled. Using the flashlight on my phone, I searched the room. There, on the bedside table on the far side of the room was a phone. Tiptoeing, I reached it in seconds. I lifted it from its base, still using my phone as a light. I pressed the button to turn the house phone on and got a dial tone. I typed in the number from Byron’s text and the phone started dialing, then ringing, although I could barely hear it over the pounding in my ears and my labored breaths. I hated lying. I was no good at it. If he answered, I’d hang up.
I heard the tone change in my ear as the two phones connected. I closed my eyes.
“You’ve reached my voice mail. Leave a message.” Byron’s voice. Short, uninformative.
I chose my words carefully, with my fingers crossed for good measure. “Um, hi, this is Emily Bernal calling for Byron. Byron, I spoke to Wallace earlier. I wanted to assure you I don’t have Greg and Farrah, and I can’t imagine who would think I did, or why they’d call anonymously. I guess I have an enemy out there.” I was babbling. I hated it when I babbled. It made me sound defensive, and ding-y. “I’m in New Mexico for Christmas. If you find them, please let me know, even through Wallace. I’ve been so worried about them. Thank you.”
I pressed “off.” I put the house phone back in the cradle, then I dropped my phone on the bed, where it landed flashlight up, and I lowered my face into my hands.
“That didn’t sound good,” a man’s voice said from across the room.
I screamed and jumped back a good three feet. An eerie face watched me from a doorway across the room. The bathroom doorway, I realized. The man stepped forward, but I already knew who the voice belonged to. Jack. Which made sense, since I was in his bedroom.
I was in his bedroom. I flew over to the bed and snatched up my phone. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be in here uninvited.” I rushed around the bed for the door.
He intercepted me, catching me by the shoulders. “What’s the matter?”
“Someone told Byron at CPS that I had Greg and Farrah, and only two people in Amarillo knew. You, and me. And it wasn’t me.”
“Huh.”
That’s all he had to say? My brain shorted out, and a blank white screen appeared where logical thought should be. I jerked away from his grasp. “Huh? I could lose my ability to adopt Betsy, and maybe even be charged with a crime. That’s more than a ‘huh.’ At a minimum, it’s an ‘I’m sorry,’ and then maybe you could throw in whether or not you may have caused it, and if you did, it would be nice to hear how it happened, too.”
“Uh . . .” He looked at the floor between us.
Tears spilled, and I realized I was losing it, overreacting. Too much. It was all too much. “I’m sorry, I can’t talk anymore. I need to be alone.” I whirled and fled for my room.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The next morning I was on my way to the stables by six o’clock, sleepy but determined, having left a heartbroken Snowflake in the kitchen instead of bringing her with me. The sun wouldn’t rise for quite a while yet, but I doubted that I would be the first person out there. Sure enough, the doors were unlocked, and a light shone into the open space between the stalls on either side, emanating from Mickey’s office. It was frigid outside and still really cold in the stable. I’d worn gloves, a wool cap, a scarf, and a heavy jacket, but I knew I’d still be freezing my tushy off for the next few hours. I exhaled, admiring my frosty breath, then knocked on the glass in Mickey’s office door. Steam rose from a Purina coffee mug beside him. He looked up, his wide eyes registering surprise, and motioned me in.
“Good morning,” I said.
“You’re up early.”
“And still not as early as you.”
He laughed. “It’s a holiday. I slept in.”
I knew well the demands of rising early to care for animals. I missed a lot about my rodeo days, and sometimes I even missed this part: working alone before dawn, waking the animals, feeding them, being the one they relied on to care for them. I imagined it was a lot like having a baby. My “babies” had just weighed in over a thousand pounds each. A special bond forms in the dark, when you are the only one there, when they need you.
“I was hoping to take Jarhead or one of his friends out for a ride this morning. Would that be all right?”
“Jarhead would love it.” He got to his feet. “Is Jack coming?”
“No, just me.”
He stopped for a split second, his eyes raking my face, but I didn’t let a flicker of emotion cross it. “Let me get you a saddle.”
We walked together to the tack room next door. It smelled of leather and saddle soap, and I inhaled it greedily. “If you can point out what you’re comfortable with me using, I can take it from there. I don’t want to be a bother.”
He hefted the saddle I’d ridden on during my last few rides from a wall peg, along with the Navajo blanket underneath it. He added a bridle. “Gives me a chance to talk to you. Grab that brush, will you?”
I picked up the soft-bristled brush he had indicated and followed him out. “So how have the kids done?” I asked.
Mickey set the gear on the ground outside a stall, and Jarhead stuck his nose out, snorting. Mickey put both his hands on the beautiful animal’s bobbing face. “They’ve done well. Laura’s the one I’m worried about.”
“Laura? Why?”
He opened the stall door and slipped the bridle over Jarhead’s ears, then the bit into his mouth. “She’s getting attached. The kids need somebody, and she needs to be needed.”
“Yeah. Those phones she gave them for Christmas—they seem like a long-term sort of gift.” I rubbed the wood-handled brush over Jarhead’s back with my right hand and ran my left over his supple flanks. His muscles quivered, and he turned to watch me.
Mickey patted Jarhead’s neck. “She’s taken Farrah under her wing. The gi
rl loves horses.”
I smiled. I could relate. “Anything special about this big fella today?” I kept brushing, working my way around to Jarhead’s other side.
“Nah. He’s had breakfast, but he’s always fine after he eats, as long as you aren’t planning on riding him to Alamogordo and back. You know he’s a handful, of course.”
“That’s what I love about him.”
Mickey positioned the blanket on Jarhead, swinging the saddle up to land perfectly in place. He pulled the strap through the cinch and tightened it, then pulled the whole rig back a little so it wasn’t too close to Jarhead’s elbow. Then he tightened the cinch again, a full inch more, and Jarhead snorted and tossed his head.
“He puffs out a little on the first go-round.”
“Poor boy. But you don’t want me hanging upside down under your belly, do you?” I let him sniff my hand and feel it with the sensitive whiskers on his muzzle. He nodded his head up and down. “Oh, you do? Fine.” I laughed.
“Where you thinking about taking him?”
I stuck with mostly true. “Out to the highway and east. I want to expunge the demons from my wild midnight ride on Thunder.”
Mickey puckered his lips up and nodded. “All right. Well, the weather is supposed to be fine. The snow cover isn’t deep. Everyone is pastured on the west side right now, so I think you’ll find most of the gates open and you can leave them that way. If any are closed, they’re gonna be hard to manage in this cold, the wires tight. Do you have a phone in case of trouble?”
I patted his shoulder. “Yes, Mom.”
“I’m not worried about you, Standing Hair, I’m talking about the moneymaker here.”
We both laughed. Jarhead’s stud fees were a large part of Wrong Turn Ranch’s income. I led the moneymaker from the stall, and he started prancing.
Earth to Emily Page 22