Lonestar Homecoming

by Colleen Coble

  She discovered she didn’t have the courage to find out. When a movement flickered behind the curtain, her foot came down on the accelerator and she sped away, her pulse pounding against her throat.

  NO ONE PAID ANY ATTENTION WHEN MICHAEL ENTERED HEADQUARTERS, flashed his badge, then walked back to the bank of gray metal filing cabinets. Caesar trotted at his feet.The building reeked with the smell of ink. Computer keyboards clacked, and printers whirred as they spit out papers. He glanced at the wanted board but saw no one he recognized. He nodded to a woman who brushed by with a stack of papers, then found the filing cabinet he needed. Most of this would be digitized, but the tactile sensation of paper and pictures in hand would help him marshal his thoughts.

  Sliding open the filing drawer, he found the file marked with his brother’s name. Once he saw the details of the case, it would become even more real, and he doubted he’d be able to turn his back until his brother’s killer was brought to justice. He was disobeying a direct order by even looking through this file. He carried it down the hall to an unassigned cubicle and turned on the computer. As it hummed to life, he flipped open the file. Caesar curled at his feet. His brother’s face assaulted him with memories.

  He picked up the glossy eight-by-ten photo and stared into Philip’s crinkled blue eyes. “I miss you, man,” he whispered. I love you had never been part of their vocabulary, and he wished he had a second chance.

  Laying aside the picture, he began to read the paperwork. Phil had told his boss that he suspected Vargas would move a massive stock of high-tech weapons into Mexico. At first, most of the Border Patrol thought Phil’s suspicions were based on faulty information. Pickens in particular thought the tip most likely came from someone with a grudge against Vargas who was deliberately trying to mislead the patrol.

  The doubt of his colleagues did nothing to deter Phil. He pressed on, and when no one would believe him, he went to the designated meeting place to find it swarming with Mexican paramilitary who were packing a van full of weapons. Phil called for reinforcements, then waited for their arrival.When most of the gang left and the van was about to pull out, Phil intercepted the two drivers. A shoot-out followed, with both the driver and his accomplice being killed in the confrontation.

  While not the best outcome, Phil had prevented the arms from reaching the cartel, where they would have killed more innocent Mexicans. Instead of applauding Phil, though, a newspaper article focused on his partner, Hector Estevez, as the hero who arrived in time to prevent Phil’s death.Weird.A week later, Phil was forced off the road and killed. Phil was a good driver and he knew these roads. How had they managed to blindside him?

  Suddenly, Caesar sat up with a low growl rumbling in his chest.

  “What are you doing?” Estevez stared at him from the cubicle entry. “I thought you were still on sick leave.”

  Michael flipped the file closed. “Just checking out a few things.”

  “That’s Phil’s file.” Estevez folded his arms across his chest. “Pickens said he didn’t want you involved. This is Border Patrol business, not army. How’d you get access to this anyway?”

  Michael rose and stepped past Estevez to return the file to its home. Estevez followed. “Someone tried to bomb my house last night. With my wife and kids there.”

  “I heard about that. Not very popular, are you?”

  Michael narrowed his eyes. “You don’t sound upset about it.”

  Estevez shrugged. “What do you expect? You come in here playing the big man because of your service overseas.We’ve seen as much enemy fire as you. Most of us serve in this forsaken place with never a thank-you for risking our lives every day.”

  “I thought we were on the same team.” Michael barely managed to shut the drawer without slamming it. “Don’t you want Phil’s killer brought in? You two were partners for five years.”

  Estevez grimaced. “Yeah, I want him caught. But I always knew Phil was going to end up dead. He took too many chances. His heart always ruled his head.”

  “I can’t dispute that. It’s what made him good at what he did, though.” Michael nodded to the filing cabinet. “He was the only one who figured out that arms shipment was going through.The rest of you sat on your thumbs and did nothing to help him.”

  A dull red ran up Estevez’s neck. “He nearly got himself killed, and we saved his bacon.”

  “That’s bull.You and the rest of the posse came riding in after he’d done the work. For some reason, the newspaper mentions you as the big hero, not Phil.What’s up with that?”

  The other man’s lips tightened. “I don’t write for the paper, so I couldn’t say what they had in mind.”

  “What are you and Pickens doing to find my brother’s killer? Pickens said he had some leads, but I don’t see anything in the file.”

  “You’d have to ask Pickens. That’s not my case, just like it’s not yours.” Estevez’s name blared on the speaker. “If I find you here after I take this call, I’m notifying Pickens.” He stomped down the hall.

  Michael might have five minutes. He went back to the cubicle. Maybe there was more information on the computer. The Border Patrol wouldn’t just let this case go uninvestigated.Was it possible Pickens had shut out Estevez because he suspected Phil’s partner of some duplicity? Michael found it hard to believe that anyone who knew Phil would want him dead, but no one was above the right kind of bribe or threat. Phil had never mentioned his partner’s background to Michael. Maybe now was the time to find out.

  He called up the case file, then clicked on the investigation tab. DNA hadn’t turned up anything. No witnesses. An anonymous tip had told the patrol where to find Phil’s vehicle, which seemed odd to Michael.Why not let the desert do its work and hide the evidence? It could have been weeks or months before the site was found, especially since his truck had gone into an area that was hard to see.The truck ended up in a grove of cottonwood trees. Finding him from the air would have been difficult. Only dogs might have found him. So the killer wanted Phil’s death to be discovered.As a warning, or something else?

  Michael skimmed the rest of the short file. No real leads. So why had Pickens lied about it? Because he knew the trail led back to one of his men? After closing the file, Michael launched a browser window. He typed in Hector Estevez and quickly found several links. The son of immigrants, he’d worked his way through college and had plenty of accolades from the university and the Border Patrol. There was a picture of Estevez with Phil, and Michael allowed himself to linger over it a minute. Maybe Estevez really had cared about Phil.

  He sat staring at the search box. There was so much he didn’t know about Gracie, and while he hated digging into things behind her back, he suspected there was much she hadn’t told him. She’d been looking up something in the San Diego paper last week. He knew her fiancé’s name. And, of course, hers. He found the site for the paper, then put both names in the Google search box. Several articles came up, and he navigated to the first one, which reported the discovery of the dead federal agents. Scanning it, he paused when he remembered the Feds were looking for her and he had forgotten to call them.

  If he abided by his duty, he’d have to tell her to turn herself in. While logically he knew that was what should be done, he found himself reluctant to call the federal agent. In spite of what the article said about her not being under suspicion, he knew better. The FBI would assume her guilt because she fled the scene.

  It had to be done. Grimacing, he dug the number out of his wallet and placed the call. When he asked for Special Agent Adams, he was transferred right away. He identified himself as Gracie’s husband.

  “We’d like to talk to her, Lieutenant Wayne,”Adams said, his voice sharp with interest.

  “I can tell you all she saw. The federal agents recommended she go into hiding. They said the cartel would seek revenge because she talked to them.” Michael recounted everything Gracie had told him.

  “I appreciate your call, but please ask your wife to come
in. She might be able to give our artist a composite of the men she saw. And we need a better description of the van.”

  “We’re in Texas. It’s not just a stroll across town.”

  “Your wife is in serious trouble. She’s the only witness to a brutal slaying. If she doesn’t cooperate, I’ll get a warrant for her arrest as a material witness.” Adams’s voice was inflexible.

  Michael wished he hadn’t called. “Can you send someone here? We’ve got three kids to care for.”

  “I’ll be there on Friday,” Adams said. “Give me your address.”

  Michael rattled it off. “Call when you get your itinerary.” He hung up. Gracie would freak at this news.

  He glanced at his watch. It was nearly time to meet Gracie at the courthouse. He grabbed his hat and headed for his truck.

  19

  GRACIE’S FLIP-FLOPS SLAPPED AGAINST THE TILEAS SHE PACED THE HALL, waiting for Michael. She heard the precise march of Michael’s regulation shoes along the ceramic.Watching him walk with head up and shoulders squared, the agitation humming along her spine calmed.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Are you? Once we do this, it won’t be easy to get rid of me.”

  He stopped and stared into her face. His blue eyes probed hers. “I don’t want to be rid of you. I’m a man of my word, Gracie.”

  Such a good man. She didn’t deserve him. “It’s the only reason I’m here today.”

  He cupped her cheek in his palm. “The only reason?”

  She felt the blush travel up her neck and lodge where his skin rested against hers.“Maybe not the only reason,” she whispered.“You’re a good man, Michael Wayne.”

  He colored a little, then dropped his hand. He offered his arm. “Let’s go finalize our family.”

  She linked her arm with his. “‘Our family’ has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

  “There’s no phrase that’s better.”

  She smiled as he led her to the judge’s chambers, and the bailiff showed them in.

  “Your Honor,” he said when they reached the judge’s desk.

  Judge Thompson glanced over the top of the bifocals perched on the end of her nose. “Right on time, I see.” She rustled through the papers. “This is pretty straightforward.You kids didn’t waste any time in getting this done, and Wally assures me there are good reasons for this haste.You’ve asked for the custodial period to be waived as well. You want to share with me what those reasons are?”

  Gracie exchanged a glance with Michael. “I. . . I’d rather not, Your Honor.Those reasons are. . . personal.”

  The judge frowned. “What about Hope’s father?”

  “He’s dead,Your Honor.”

  The judge nodded. “You’re both alone, then.Well, I see no reason to withhold your petition.You’re adults and in your right mind.Your children are small and need the stability of two parents. I’m granting the adoptions.The clerk will have papers for you to sign and will issue new birth certificates in Hope’s new name. Congratulations.” She rose and shook their hands.

  As Gracie grasped the judge’s hand, the implications hit her. She was the mother of three children now.Three little ones, not just Hope, who needed her.

  Michael escorted her from the room, and she paused in the hall. “I. . . I wasn’t sure I was going to get through that,” she whispered.

  He gripped her hand. “Thank you, honey.You’re going to make a great mother.You already are.”

  “You’re welcome,” she mumbled. Her gut clenched. “I need to find the ladies’ room,” she said.

  She bolted for the marked door and barely made it before she lost her lunch in the toilet. Her stomach cramped again, then calmed. She rinsed her mouth with cold water, then patted her face with a damp towel. Her lip gloss was in the bottom of her purse, but she found it.

  Her cell phone rang, and she froze, then relaxed. The caller ID read Unknown. She stared, then forced herself to answer it.

  Cid’s voice assaulted her ear. “Where are you, Gracie?”

  “Cid,” she said, her voice failing. She faced the light of a low window.

  “That’s right. Cid.The man you were going to marry.You’ve got to come back now, Gracie. It’s best for Hope. She misses me, I know.”

  She put her hand to her throat. “Hope is fine. Just fine now that you’re out of her life.You’ve lied to me at every step. I’m not coming back. Not now, not ever.”

  His voice took on an edge. “Something could happen to you, and then where would Hope be?”

  Her fingers tightened on the phone. “Cid, did you put out a poster offering a reward to whoever found me?”

  “What if I did? I will find you, Gracie.You had no right to leave me the day of our wedding.”

  A relieved sigh eased out her lips. “I. . . I thought the men who killed the federal agents were the ones looking for me.” A long silence followed her words. Her stomach dipped. “Cid?”

  “Your leaving ruined everything.You must tell me where you are. I will come get you, no questions asked. If you do not . . .” His voice was thick with menace.

  Her head swam, and she sank onto the sill of the window. “Cid, did you do the poster?”

  But she was talking to dead air. She closed her phone and sat shaking and crying. When the phone rang again almost immediately, she turned it off and dropped it back into her purse. If he was trying to scare her, he was doing a good job of it.

  THE AROMA OF ENCHILADAS STRUCK GRACIEAS SHE ENTERED ALLIE’S kitchen. The clock over the sink showed nearly five. Her hands still shook from Cid’s call, but she didn’t want anyone to suspect her frayed nerves. Not now, when they should be rejoicing with the children about becoming a family.There would be time to talk to Michael later.

  Fear tactics, that’s all Cid’s call was. She should be used to it from him. On top of that, Michael told her the federal agent in charge wanted to talk to her. The man had called back while she was in the restroom and made arrangements to be here at the end of the week.

  “Got everything done in town?” Allie asked.

  “I’m the mother of three now.” Gracie meant the smile that stretched her lips.Whatever else happened, she was going to help Michael and the kids. “We stopped by the school and got Hope enrolled too.”

  “Perfect!”

  Allie’s smile was too gay, her tone too cheerful. Gracie was afraid to ask what drove Allie’s good mood. “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Just one thing.” Allie’s eyes danced, and she turned Gracie around toward the doorway. “Come with me.”

  “What on earth?” Gracie allowed herself to be propelled into the living room, where she found a mound of clothes and two suitcases. “What’s all this?”

  “This is the packing for your honeymoon. Jack and Michael are about the same size, so Shannon brought over some stuff for him. I dug out some things and Shannon brought more, and she stopped and bought underwear for you both. It’s just up to you to decide what you want to take to Chisos Mountains Lodge.”

  “We can’t go to the lodge now! Someone tried to bomb the house.”

  Allie waved away her protests. “That’s exactly right. All the more reason to lay low until the sheriff finds out who is behind this and grabs him.”

  “But the kids . . .”

  “The kids are perfectly safe here.This place is like a fortress, with plenty of people around to watch out for them.They can catch the bus from here.”

  Gracie backed away from the suitcases. “I appreciate the thought, Allie, but it’s just a bad time. Michael will never go for it either.”

  “If you’re all packed up and ready to go, he won’t turn you down. You need this time alone with him, Gracie.You’ve been surrounded by kids and problems ever since your wedding.”

  “This is such short notice,” Gracie muttered.

  Allie’s impish grin widened. “I’ve already made the reservations for tonight.When Michael gets home, you grab him and go.”

  “You’ve got e
nough on your plate without more kids.”

  “I love it! Shannon and I are going to share the fun with them. Betsy and her girls are all looking forward to a sleepover.” Allie grabbed the nearest suitcase and flipped it open. “The reservation is for two nights. I’ve thrown in incidentals, but you need to go through the jeans and blouses and pick out what you like.”

  Gracie swallowed hard, then turned as the screen door slammed and Michael entered. He could deal with this situation. She didn’t have the emotional resources.

  “What’s all this?” Michael stood in the doorway with his eyes crinkled in a smile. “Are you going somewhere, Allie?”

  “No, you are.” Allie’s smile widened. “You two have a reservation tonight at the Chisos Mountains Lodge.You can be there in an hour.” She peered at her watch. “In time for dinner alone.”

  Michael’s smile faltered. “I have to work.”

  “You’re still on sick leave,” Allie said.

  His face flushed, and he took a step back. “But our house was nearly bombed. I can’t go running off when I need to find who did it.”

  Allie shook her finger in his face. “Listen to me, you big blockhead! You just married this woman. There has been problem after problem slamming into her—and you—ever since you signed that license.”

  “All the more reason to stay and face them,” he muttered, glancing at Gracie.

  Allie rolled her eyes. “You can’t get into the house yet anyway. This is the sheriff’s investigation, not yours, right now. All you’ll be able to do is pace and worry.Why not do that in a beautiful setting with your new bride?”

  He blinked, then shot a glance at Gracie. “Okay,” he said. A grin spread across his face.

  Gracie gasped. “We’re going?” The promise in his gaze made her catch her breath.

  “I’m game if you are.” He nodded toward the sofa. “But what is all this?”