by Dana Mentink
Paige Lynn told him later Wade brought his then girlfriend into the diner to town that same night and treated them both to a steak dinner with all the trimmings. The girlfriend’s dad owned a gas station in the next town over, and Wade got all the free gasoline he wanted. Once Wade learned that Paige Lynn had reported what she’d seen to Mitch, he’d set about terrorizing her in a way that could never be proved. Calls from pay phones, flat tires, a dead bird in her handbag and finally...a lock of her little sister’s hair mailed to her house. When she could not stand it anymore, she left both Mitch and the town far behind.
Jane’s frightened silver eyes swam in his memory. Wasn’t it possible that Wade had married a woman even more capable of lying than he was? He realized Foley was waiting for a response. “She’s here for today. I’ll keep you posted if anything happens.”
Foley looked as if he would say more.
“Truth is, I don’t care if Wade gets to you or not. I’m here to recapture him. Jane’s a means to an end, and I’ll get my man this time, with your cooperation or without it.”
This time. Was that what this was? Foley’s wounded pride over not being able to arrest Wade on his own? The shame of his drunken encounter with Mitch? Jane’s a means to an end. Would he use her, leak her location to catch Wade? Shame burned in Mitch when he considered he’d thought of using Jane for bait as well. But that was before he understood what kind of woman she was, before he’d seen her anguish about Ben.
“Like I said, she’s here for today.”
Foley’s mouth twitched, and he turned away.
An insidious thought occurred to Mitch as the marshal strode to his car. Wade had escaped two federal marshals with the help of an outside source.
Or could it have been an inside one? What if Wade had shown Foley it was in his best interest to work together, to help him with his plans?
En route, we rolled across a spike strip. The van overturned, knocking my partner unconscious and trapping me in a jammed seat belt. Wade escaped. End of story.
Was it? Wade had money somewhere—they’d never found all the funds he’d stolen from the women he killed. He clearly had enough to rent a horse, a car. He’d been dressed in good clothes when he’d tried to kill Mitch on the beach. Money talked. Did it talk loudly enough to bribe a marshal into working for a psychopath? Was the whole manhunt a farce?
Foley slid on a pair of sunglasses and drove too fast out of the gate. Mitch stared after him for a while, trying to separate what might be the facts from the bubbling mess of feelings.
Liam moved closer. “You trust Foley?”
“Don’t trust anyone who isn’t connected to this ranch.”
“Good way to stay alive,” Liam said. “But lonely.”
Lonely, maybe, but smart. Then again, he’d brought Jane Reyes here to Roughwater Ranch, the one place he’d found peace, his sanctuary, his lifeline. All of a sudden, his past was roaring back into the present. His head ached. “All this talk is useless.”
“As a screen door on a submarine,” Liam drawled.
Mitch smiled in spite of himself. “You can drop the good old boy shtick with me.”
“Whatcha mean? I’m just a simpleminded cowboy, Mitch.”
“With an IQ of 145, which is genius level.”
“Aw, shucks, who told you that?”
“Your sister.”
Liam grinned. “Well, her IQ’s higher than mine, so I guess you’d better trust her. Suits me to be a simple cowboy.”
He’d never fully understood what happened in Liam’s life with his father, but he’d gotten a sense that Liam had put on many different identities and he was still in search of the right one. He allowed strangers to underestimate him, even welcomed it, but Mitch knew him too well—the parts he would allow Mitch to know, anyway.
“This is going to get messy,” Mitch said. “Wade is not going to leave until he gets what he wants.”
“Which is you in a pine box?”
“For starters.”
“And Jane?”
“Not sure, but I’m gonna need both the genius and the cowboy to get through this, I think,” Mitch said quietly.
“I’ll be your posse. You can count on that.”
Unable to put his gratitude into words, he nodded. Liam and Chad were better than brothers.
They returned to the house, and he bolted the door, the metal sliding home with an ominous clang.
* * *
Jane was grateful to be allowed to spend the day alone in the guest room Aunt Ginny had shown her earlier. She showered, wrapped up again in the borrowed clothes. A stab of panic shot through her as she realized she’d left her small pouch with her ID and ATM card in the bathroom in Mitch’s cabin. She forced a calming breath. “I’ll just have to retrieve it before I leave,” she told herself. She’d found a canvas bag in the room with necessities—a hairbrush, toothbrush, tissues, as well as some plastic-wrapped muffins. She smiled.
After another shower, her body sagged with fatigue and she allowed herself to lie down on the bed. It was only midmorning, but it seemed like a lifetime since she’d survived being shot on the beach.
I’ll never let you go.
Now that he knew Jane had made contact with Mitch, Wade had both his targets in one place. Tension knotted her stomach muscles.
She needed to plan, to figure out how to retrieve her pouch, pick up Ben and get out of Driftwood without being spotted by Wade or the marshal. She’d seen the expression on Mitch’s face when Foley recounted the escape details, and she read the suspicion there, the same kind that roused her own instincts. Someone had helped Wade escape... Might it be Foley himself? She wasn’t sure about Foley’s motives, but it was clear as the California sky that he didn’t care about her, not really. He’d care even less about her son, if he knew.
Thoughts spinning and stomach churning, she forced herself to breathe and pray until weariness overwhelmed her agitation and she fell asleep.
She astonished herself by not awakening until early evening. The old clock on the bedside table read just after five. Her senses whirled as she tried to put the fragments in place. She was at Roughwater Ranch, safe, for now, temporary as it was. Ben was safe with Nana Jo. The clank of dishware and the succulent smell of grilled meat drifted down the hallway.
Heaving out a breath, she smoothed her tumble of curls and headed for the kitchen to thank Aunt Ginny for the supplies.
“Well, hello there,” Ginny said, hefting a bowl of steaming potatoes. “I wasn’t sure if we should wake you or fix a plate for later.”
“You don’t need to cook for me.”
She thrust the bowl into Jane’s hands. “I cook for everyone, if my work allows.”
“Your work?”
She laughed. “Don’t look so surprised. I’m a CPA. I run an accounting firm along with carrying out my ranch duties.” Her grin widened. “I confess I enjoy the expression on people’s faces when I tell them that. In their imaginations, Aunt Ginny should be a quiet, demure little lady who feeds the cowpokes, tends the fire and darns socks. Well, I do that, except for the sock darning, but I also balance the books around here.”
Jane smiled. “Is Uncle Gus a businessman, too?”
Ginny took up a platter and opened the side door for Gus, who was carrying a pan of grilled brisket and vegetables. He handed her the meat and leaned in to kiss her on the neck.
“Uncle Gus is a cowboy, through and through.”
Gus winked at Ginny. “That’s why you’re crazy about me. Every girl loves a cowboy, right? You love me for my hat and spurs?”
Ginny laughed. “Among other things.”
Jane felt a pang deep inside at the love that shone clear as a beacon between Gus and Ginny. She’d thought she had that with Wade. Again she scrolled rapid-fire through the misgivings, the tiny suspicions that should have told her he was not
what he appeared to be.
The obsessive need to maintain his expensive Mercedes, in which there was never to be any food or drink. His compulsion to take numerous showers each day and his obsequious flattery about her looks, urging her to have her nails done, her hair professionally cut.
You have a business image to maintain, right, Janey?
She’d thought his hands-off attitude toward her fledgling floral business was his way of showing trust in her, the separation of their funds a practical attempt to sort out their finances to make their tax situation easier. She’d never suspected he was ashamed of having a wife who “peddled flowers like the village beggar,” as she’d heard him say in the courtroom. He wanted his own warped image of a trophy wife, attractive, well-bred, soft-spoken, to complement his pretend real-estate career, certainly not a working-class girl.
Odd, since the women he killed were exactly that—a woman who drove her own taxi, a dental hygienist, a horse trainer and Bette Whipple, a newly minted nurse on vacation from her job in a radiology lab. Nothing outwardly remarkable about any of them, except that they were all blonde and outgoing, while Jane was brunette and quiet.
Why not you, Jane? Why didn’t Wade kill you, too?
She jumped, to find Aunt Ginny touching her arm. “Are you okay? You were deep in thought for a moment there.”
Jane nodded. “Yes. I...I just wanted to thank you for allowing me to stay here. I should go.”
“Not until you’ve had dinner and a night in a warm bed.”
Not until nightfall, so you can sneak away without being seen, her gut told her.
“But...” she started to say to Ginny’s departing back.
Gus caught her eye. “One thing I’ve learned in forty years of marriage is Ginny’s like the tide—she’s gonna carry you along whether you like it or not. Fortunately, she’s usually right about the direction. She prays a lot, so that helps her determine the course. Come on. Let’s eat, then. Boys are back.”
There was nothing left to do but follow Gus into the dining room.
TEN
Mitch, Chad and Liam were already seated at the table. They were scrubbed clean, but their clothes spoke of hard work on the ranch. All three stood, and, with cheeks burning, she avoided Mitch’s eyes and slid into a seat next to him.
“Let’s pray,” Ginny said and everyone joined hands around the table while Ginny prayed. Jane found her palm swallowed up in Mitch’s wide grasp. His touch was warm and strong, though she knew he was probably recoiling at the forced intimacy with her. For an unaccountable reason, her body reacted to the contact, and she realized she had not held a man’s hand for a very long while. Wade had never enjoyed touching unless he initiated it, so she’d learned to keep her affectionate gestures to herself. She probably should have taken it as another warning sign, but she’d missed it, along with everything else. She found herself adding to the prayer, asking the Lord to soften Mitch’s heart toward Him.
Aunt Ginny finished and everyone began to dig in to the platters of grilled green beans and peppers, brisket, and creamy mashed potatoes. As Ginny described, Gus, Mitch and Liam ate heartily while Chad’s portion was smaller. Jane’s mouth watered at the food, and she tried not to wolf it down, doing her best to be an invisible fly on the wall in this place she did not belong.
The conversation moved to Chad.
“Got three guys coming next month,” he said quietly. “Thinking of adding Rio into the program for them to work with.” He raised a questioning eyebrow at Mitch.
Mitch nodded. “Challenging horse. Great potential if he can be broke. These guys have any experience?”
“None that I know of,” Chad said.
“Do they have their life insurance paid up?” Liam said around a mouthful of potatoes, earning a peeved look from Chad.
Ginny explained, “Chad’s starting up a therapy program for wounded veterans, in honor of his father.” Something flickered in Chad’s eyes but he did not speak, so she continued. “The soldiers will come and stay at the ranch and work with some of our difficult horses, help out with the cattle, as a way to ease them back into civilian life.”
“That’s wonderful,” Jane said.
Chad nodded. “The adjustment is brutal, for some. They’re different because of their combat experience, but the world expects them to be the same people as they were before deployment.”
His demeanor was of one who knew exactly how hard the transition could be. She wondered what his father had been through and where he was now.
“Mitch said you are a florist. Where is your shop, honey?” Ginny asked.
“It’s... I mean, it was in Texas. I had to close up after the trial.” It hurt to say it almost as much as it had pained her to walk away from her darling little shop, where she’d sweated over the tiniest detail. She missed the fragrance most of all, the spicy floral perfume that hit her senses every time she’d unlocked the door, an oasis during the last few months of her marriage, when her fears about Wade had begun to escalate. She’d found comfort among the petals, until it was all stripped away.
The awkward silence lasted until Gus put his fork down. “Excellent meal, Ginny, as usual. I can’t wait for next week when you start in on pies. I’m putting in my order for cherry.”
“The cooking class is starting with apple, so you’ll have to hold your horses, so to speak.”
He gave her a solemn nod. “I’m good at waiting, especially when there’s pie in the offing.”
Jane was not. As the sun sank below the sea cliffs visible through the enormous front windows, she chafed. When darkness came, she would take her leave of this sanctuary and somehow make her way to Mitch’s. Then she’d get to town for a new cell phone and cash and go for her son. There was no firm destination fixed in her mind, only the deep-seated craving to hold her boy, to wrap him up tight to her chest and breathe in the scent of him, more pleasing than the perfect flower. They had to run, disappear and find somewhere else to hold on until Wade was captured.
After the dishes were washed and put away, Jane thanked Ginny again.
“We can talk in the morning about your plans,” Ginny said.
Jane nodded and turned away, unwilling to lie to such a lovely woman. As she was about to let herself into the guest room, she realized Mitch was leaning against the wall in the hallway outside, arms crossed.
She jumped.
“Sorry. Didn’t meant to startle you. Here.” He handed her a cell phone. “Just a cheapie disposable I had Chad pick up in town. I programmed my cell in there.”
She laughed. “I didn’t think you knew how to use one.”
He huffed out a breath. “Used plenty of technology as a marshal. I just chose not to after I got out. Figured Aunt Ginny was right considering the situation, so I took it out of the box.”
She laughed. “Thank you.”
He paused. “I put Foley’s number in there, too, in case you change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
“What are you going to do, then?”
She shrugged.
“Run?”
She felt a stab of irritation at his prodding. “Why do you care, Mitch? You made it clear you don’t trust me, and you won’t work with me to catch Wade. So what does it matter to you where I go?”
His gaze raked the floor, and he winced as if pained. “I just think it’d be hard to be on the run with a kid. He doesn’t deserve that kind of life.”
“Did any of us deserve what Wade did to us?” Her voice was low, but the bitterness carried clearly.
Mitch remained silent.
“Ben doesn’t deserve any of the things he’s had to endure, but I’m going to give him something better.”
He angled a look at her then, not harsh, but inquisitive. “What if you can’t?”
“God gave Ben to me for a reason.” She fought through the constr
iction in her throat. “He is my purpose and my passion, and I will succeed with God’s help. I have no future, but Ben does.”
Mitch was stone still, his expression unreadable in the dim light. “That’s a hard way to look at your own life...futureless.”
“It’s the same way you feel,” she guessed. “You’re going through the motions here, in your solitary cabin, but you’re not living like a man who has a future, either.”
Something told her she’d hit the mark.
“I’m just fine with the today part. You gotta go out on a limb to believe in tomorrow.”
To believe in God, he meant. She was about to speak when he cleared his throat. “You’ll be safe here until morning.”
“Good night, Mitch,” she said, closing the door. I’ll be gone by morning. I’ll save you the trouble of going out on a limb for me.
Mitch headed away into the darkness.
* * *
Since it was faster to get down to the rickety dock where his father lived by horse than by car, Mitch saddled Rosie, and fifty minutes later he left her to nose around the swatch of rocky sand and made his way along the weathered dock. There were only a few slips available, one taken by a boat belonging to Chad, one empty, and the farthest was home to his father’s ugly thirty-four-foot trawler. The exterior was old and scabby, but somehow Pops managed to keep a wooden planter strapped to the dock as a sort of makeshift window box, full to bursting with some sort of plants Mitch couldn’t identify. He called out and received an answering shout from inside the cabin. He could have made do with a phone call, but he had a strong urge to see his father in the flesh.
As he stepped into the cramped cabin, his father got up from the wooden table where he was meticulously sorting and labeling a selection of seed envelopes. His father was a few inches shorter than Mitch, but his long silver hair was still threaded with dark strands, pulled into the neat braid he’d worn his whole life. He still stood straight, black eyes as sharp as ever.
