by Ruth Wind
"You're worn out," Helene said.
Juliet nodded. She had a sudden vision of herself crawling into a cave and curling up by a fire to sleep and sleep and sleep. Hibernating.
"Winter," Helene said, her voice sounding more lyrical somehow, "is the time we can rest. Sleep more, eat more. Like the earth, we're being more quiet. You can use this winter to let all those wounds heal, and by spring, you'll feel much better."
Juliet thought about saying, "I'm not wounded," but it would have been such a blatant lie that she would shame herself uttering it aloud. Instead she heard herself say, "I lost my job a month ago. I worked so hard to get it, and then—"
"Then?"
She dropped her gaze. It wasn't that she didn't want to say anything more; it was that she couldn't seem to focus on just one thing to pull out and offer as an explanation. I was raped seemed as valid as I am not sure that was ever what I wanted. I think my mother wanted it for me.
Finally she said, "I don't know. I don't seem to want to do anything to get it back. It doesn't matter. Or—it matters, but it's not my job." Which sounded stupid, so she added, "Or something like that." Frowning, she said, "That doesn't make any sense."
"It makes a lot of sense. Maybe there's something else you need to do now."
Juliet thought of the mothers she'd met at the immigrant center, both earnest and weary, with their children clinging to their legs. How satisfying it had been to help them find work, housing, food for another day or two! "The law doesn't move very fast," she said. "I was growing more and more frustrated with the way that worked in people's lives."
Helene nodded. Patiently, she kept her hands around Juliet's, her eyes steady and calm, her face smooth. "What brought it to a head?"
"I was raped," Juliet said simply. "A year ago."
No ripple of judgment or shock or slightly prurient interest. Helene simply nodded. A quiet radiance came from her, and it felt like it was spreading to Juliet, a silvery energy that radiated upward from her hands, through her arms, into her tight, weary shoulders.
She would have said she didn't believe in hands-on healing, but it was impossible to deny there was something going on with Helene's hands. It was pleasant enough she didn't feel the need to do anything about it. For long moments, they simply sat at the table, her small hands enfolded in Helene's larger, rangier ones.
The kettle began to whistle. Gently, Helene pressed Juliet's hands together. "Let me get the tea."
As she poured water into the kettle, Juliet asked, "What happened to Josh's friend at the Ute School?"
"She was abandoned by her mother."
"Oh." Juliet felt a ripple pulse through her, a sense of having been recognized, seen. Josh hadn't focused on the rape at all, but on her feelings of not being able to reach her mother. It took her breath for a moment.
Why did people fall in love? Was that what was happening here? And if it was, why was Juliet so skittish?
Somewhere in the house, a phone rang. "Uh-oh," Helene said. That's Josh's phone. Usually means trouble."
Josh looked grim when he came into the kitchen a few minutes later. "That was my friend on the sheriff's department, who called earlier to let me know they got a search warrant to go through the cabin for possible evidence."
"They can get a search warrant but they can't get a bail hearing?" Juliet asked with annoyance. "What is that?"
"They took her rifle and some clothes, maybe some other things." He touched his nose with his thumb again, that thinking gesture. "The ballistics test was inconclusive."
"That's good, right?"
"It doesn't clear her," Josh said gravely. "The bad news is, they found Claude's blood on some of her clothes."
* * *
Chapter 14
« ^ »
For one long second, Juliet couldn't breathe as the reality of Josh's words sank in. They found Claude's blood on some of Desi's clothes.
It made her dizzy. A thousand scenarios played out in the space of moments—Desi in prison, ankles chained, eyes hollow with despair, the wolves euthanized one by one, the land turning into a retreat for the very, very rich. She made a noise of protest and covered her eyes. "Dang it."
"If you have any high-powered criminal lawyer contacts," Josh said, "This would be a good time to call them."
With an ironic twist of her lips, she said, "My old boyfriend. Who probably isn't talking to me."
"Call him," Josh said.
Juliet glared at him. "You have a bad habit of ordering people around, you know that? I'm not a child and I'm not one of your minions on the police force, and if you want something from me, you need to ask politely."
Helene grinned.
Josh took a breath. His eyes glittered suddenly as he gazed down at her, and his tongue laced out and touched his lower lip. To her amazement, the sight of that healthy pink tongue, the tip that had given so much pleasure, the plumpness of lower lip, gave her a jolt of yearning.
He took a step closer. "Yes, ma'am," he drawled, a country boy without guile. "Your sister needs a lawyer. A very good lawyer. Do you have any contacts you can lean on?"
"Better." She raised her chin. "I just might." Taking her phone out of her bag, she flipped it open and punched in a number. "Alicia," she said to the voice mail of her friend, "this is Juliet Rousseau. My sister is in criminal trouble in Colorado and we might need the names of some good lawyers here. Give me a call when you can, on my cell phone."
"Good work," Josh said as she hung up.
She found herself preening just the tiniest bit. "Thanks."
* * *
After feasting on soup and fritters, Josh, Juliet and Glory walked through the gilded late afternoon to Josh's house. The dogs had been romping the fenced backyard all day and were very happy to see the humans arrive. They set up howls of greeting as they stepped onto the porch.
Nothing would do but Glory had to have her hair washed and set right now, and Josh excused himself to make phone calls, promising to see what he could find out, how much information he could gather from various sources.
Meanwhile, Juliet let the very female pleasure of giving Glory a bath and washing her hair take away the sting and worry of the day. Dozens of toys were collected in a laundry basket by the big bathtub, and Glory picked out a few to toss in the tub as Juliet started the water and adjusted it. "Do you want bubbles?"
"No, then I can't see my toys."
Juliet chuckled. "Ah." She started humming under her breath, stirring the water around to make sure it was the right temperature, and she unlaced Glory's braid. Her hair was thick and cool and elegant, and Juliet luxuriated in the feeling of it, spilling over her hands. "You have very, very pretty hair," she said.
"I got it from my daddy." Glory stripped out of her clothes and gingerly stepped into the tub. "My mommy has really yellow hair."
"She does?"
"It was really supposed to be black, but she didn't like being Indian."
"Oh, I'm sure she did," Juliet said.
"No. She told me she didn't." Matter-of-factly, Glory filled a cup with water from the running tap and poured it into a bowl. "I like being Indian."
"I'm glad."
"My Daddy says I look like Pocahontas. Do you think I do?"
"Absolutely. Do you have that movie on DVD?"
"Yeah! You want to watch that one with me tonight?"
"Sure."
The smell of the soap and the shampoo, the easy pleasure of sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, making small talk with a little girl, made Juliet feel peaceful. She washed Glory's back, then her hair, and rinsed it with detangler, and helped her out into a big, fluffy turquoise towel. When Glory was dressed in her footed pajamas—pink, of course, with little kittens all over them—Juliet led her into the living room to sit by the fire, where she brushed Glory's hair to get it mostly dry before she put it on the rollers. Josh's voice came from the kitchen in low tones, only the odd word coming through here and there.
"My sister has ver
y long pretty hair," Juliet said. "We use to brush each other's hair all the time."
"So does Pink," Glory said. "But hers is red."
"Who is Pink?"
"She's my friend. Not like Natasha at school. Pink and Ink are in my room. Or if I want, they'll come along in my pocket."
"I see. Like imaginary friends?"
"Sometimes, grown-ups pretend they can see them, but I know they can't." Glory held very still as Juliet rolled the first section of hair into a curler. "Grown-ups can't see angels anymore, can they?"
"I guess not." Juliet secured the roller, and picked up another section. In front of them, the fire crackled and snapped. Two dogs—Crazy Horse and Tecumseh, snored nearby, tuckered out by their long day playing outside. "Pink and Ink are angels?"
"Yeah. Pink is a girl and Ink is a boy. They were brother and sister before they died and went to heaven. They came to take care of me when my mommy stole me." Glory gave Juliet a long-suffering look that was well beyond her years. "My mommy wasn't very good at taking care of me."
Juliet had a sense, suddenly, that Josh was listening. "So, how did Pink and Ink help you?"
"A lot of ways! They showed me how to get on the counter so I could get some cheese and bread. They showed me how to lock the door when I was all by myself."
"Really! All that. Very good angels."
"Yeah," she said with a shrug. "They are. I mostly liked it when I was scared and they came and slept with me. Grandma says they're my spirit guides and when I get older, they'll be the ones to help me find out what I'm gonna do when I get big."
Josh ambled into the room, deceptively casual, and sat on the couch. "I never knew that, about Pink and Ink," he said. "They took care of you?"
"They always take care of me, Daddy. You know that."
"I do?"
"Yeah. You said your prayers, so God sent angels to watch over me."
Over Glory's head, Juliet met Josh's eyes. If only, she thought, it was that simple. And yet, hadn't she gone this morning to light candles for Desi?
Josh looked stricken. "So I did, honey. So I did."
"Can we watch Pocahontas?" she asked.
"I'd love to." He looked at Juliet. "Suit you, too?"
She nodded. When all the rollers were in place, Juliet dried the curls with a blow dryer, then let them out and curls fell in beautiful ringlets over Glory's shoulders.
Juliet couldn't help but grin. Glory looked like a vision of an angel, or a Victorian drawing.
"Wow, kiddo," Josh said. "You sure do have a lot of hair."
Glory stood for a long time in front of the bedroom mirror, the only one she could see into without help or standing on something. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, smoothed her hands over it, walked very close to the mirror and nodded. "I look pretty," she said.
"You definitely do," Juliet agreed, and wondered when girls lost the ability to do that—announce she looked good without hemming and hawing about it.
They all piled together on the couch, Glory sandwiched between the two adults. Tecumseh came and pushed himself beneath Juliet's feet, slumping happily asleep with her feet on his side. Jack, Josh's dog, whined until Josh let him up on the couch. Crazy Horse, not to be left out, curled up close by.
It was slightly overwhelming, Juliet thought. It was warm. It made her feel loved and protected.
And the way Glory held her hand, and kept looking up at her as if to be sure she was really there, made her realize she had to be very, very careful with this little girl's heart.
* * *
After Glory was settled in bed, her new curls protected with a scarf, Juliet took her phone out of her purse and held it for a long minute before she flipped it open and dialed Scott's number. It rang in her ear, then his voice mail picked up. "It's Juliet. My sister is in trouble and I could use some advice if you are not too annoyed with me."
She hung up and looked at Josh, sitting in his chair, whittling with an expression of deep concentration. "That's that, I guess."
He nodded. All evening he'd been very cool and distant, and Juliet had put it down to keeping things cool in front of Glory. But there was no Glory around now, and he was still locked tight inside his own little world.
"What do we do now?" Juliet asked. Nudging him.
"Wait. Watch television. Read a book. Knit."
"Oh, sure. I have my knitting right here."
He shrugged. "I'm thinking about what Glory said about Pink and Ink, protecting her. That was pretty wild, wasn't it?"
"What a survivor she is, your daughter!"
"What do you mean?"
"She found a way at—what, four?—to get her needs met. She created a world where she had help when she needed it."
"I didn't think of it like that."
"I don't think you have to worry about her, Josh. I think she's fine."
"Really?"
"Really." She touched his hand. "She's a great kid."
He leaned back on the couch. "She is that. I'm worried that she worships you."
"Me, too. She asked me to marry you the first day."
He grinned, showing those big white teeth. "You didn't tell me that."
"Pretty funny."
"It is." Josh took her hand, worried her fingers. "The other thing on my mind tonight is the blood on Desi's clothes." He shook his head. "It's a nightmare. If they can put her at the scene—and even if they can't, it's well known she was chasing the mountain lion that mauled him—then there's not a damned thing we can do about it."
"I have to keep believing it's going to work out," Juliet said. "Don't you dare give up yet."
"I'm not giving up. I'm talking to you as a cop. This is bad."
The doorbell rang and Josh scowled, then put down the wooden block and stood up to answer it. Juliet heard voices, then Josh returned with another man behind him—the bartender from the Black Crown, the pub they'd visited last night.
Something about him was jovial and upbeat, even under such gruesome circumstances. "Hello" he said, "you're Juliet, isn't that right?" His accent was the slightly drawling New Zealand British.
"Yep." She stood. "Was it Tam? How are you?"
"I heard some gossip I thought might help you."
Josh gestured toward the couch. "Have a seat. Want a beer or something?"
"No, thank you." He settled on the couch, laced his fingers together. "I've been seeing a woman who—" he tsked, inclined his head "—might be a bit of a gold digger. Not looking at me, 'course, though I've got the pub, it's not on the order of the payoff she's lookin' to find, you understand."
"Not uncommon around here."
Juliet widened her eyes. "Really?"
"Just wait, sweetheart, for the ski season to get going." His sentences ended on questions. "You'll see what we mean."
"So, the one you've been seeing?" Josh prompted.
"Right. Elsa." He looked at his palms. "She's Norwegian, a beauty and after a rich man. There's a developer in the pub who's promising her the moon and more, and he was talking this afternoon about how the land with the wolves will be so much better spent as a spa."
"Not sure what that proves."
"Nothing, mate. But it's gossip. Could help."
Josh nodded, his mouth grim. "Have you heard other developers speculating about the land?"
He lifted a finger. "I have, and it's better." His pale green eyes had a directness Juliet found appealing. "There's some talk of an enclosed aquifer, a hot spring, beneath the wolf center."
Josh straightened. He let go of a long, low whistle.
"Just rumor," Tam said. "But worth mentioning."
"I don't understand why that would be a big deal," Juliet said.
"It could be tapped for energy," Josh said. "Steam heat that can be recycled back into the earth. Theoretically, it's an eternal energy source."
"Worth billions, likely," Tam added.
"Wow."
Josh nodded. "She made the deal of the century with that land, I'm telling you."
"She really did." Juliet pressed a hand to her diaphragm. "It scares me."
"The good news is," Josh said, "it's a lot of motive for murder, and to frame Desi. That's what we need right now."
"Yes," she said. "Thanks, Tam."
He winked. "No problem."
* * *
Tam left and for the second time in two nights, Josh brought the quilts and pillows out to the couch. Last night, when he had returned with the pillows, Juliet had lit candles and built up the fire, an invitation in her eyes. Tonight, when he returned, she'd tumbled sideways, clutching a pillow, and stared at the fire with a melancholy expression.
"You look like you've lost your best friend," he said, settling beside her. With an easy gesture, he rubbed her arm.
"Long day." She looked at him. "Thanks for all your help."
"You're welcome."
They sat there. The fire crackled. Her cheek, curved and white, invited his fingers, and Josh resisted. Her throat, long and smooth, invited his lips, and he resisted. "I guess this is … uh … good night."
"Okay." She shifted to look at him. "It's awkward, Josh, but this is probably the right decision for now. With Glory and all the stuff with Desi and—"
He kissed her, cutting her off. He didn't even know he was going to do it until he was bending over her, claiming that lush and seductive mouth.
And if she had resisted, if she had protested or pulled away, he would have respected that and taken himself off to bed.
But she didn't. With a little cry, she met his kiss and flung her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her. They had been slow in previous times and easy with each other. Josh had been mindful of her wariness, and she'd had a fragile way about her that was tentative and quiet.
Not now. It was as if their kiss let free the tigers of hunger and yearning and need that had been circling all day. Her mouth opened wide, inviting the hard, fierce thrust of his tongue; her hands laced into his hair tightly and pulled him close.
"Not here," Josh murmured, and picked her up and carried her, easily, into his bedroom, where they shed their clothes in a tangle and a tumble, tossing them wherever they landed until both were naked, and shivering and Josh drove himself home between her thighs, into slick heat and quivering warmth and the surprising strength of her grip.