“The same, Dylan. Always the same. Any luck today?”
“No.” Dylan didn’t tell Ange, or his mom, about the dead man in the desert. He’d hoped…but no one could have identified the mummy-like body he’d seen today.
“What was it you were saying about someone you dated in high school?”
“Nothing, just someone I ran into today. When will you put Mom to bed?”
“I have to leave early tonight, so around seven,” Ange answered.
Dylan glanced at the clock. An hour until he was alone, except for the unresponsive woman in the easy chair, and she’d be in bed then. He busied himself preparing a bachelor meal, browning some hamburger, dumping in a can of tomato sauce and setting a pot of water to boil for macaroni. He should think about getting a real housekeeper, one who would cook and clean as well as look after Mom. Once he had custody of his brothers, he’d need someone to live in, anyway. Someone who wasn’t nosy.
Later that evening, his unsatisfactory meal eaten and Ange gone, he went to his mom’s room to make sure she was asleep. Sometimes it was hard to tell, but tonight her eyes were open, staring at the ceiling.
“I don’t know if it was him, Mom. The birds… Well, you don’t need to know that. But don’t worry. I said I’d find him and make him sign the papers, and I will. Juan and Davi won’t disappear into the system. I’ll raise them as my own, I promise.”
Dylan hadn’t been watching his mom’s face as he talked, and now he noticed her eyes had closed. Had she heard him? Did she understand anything he said? Probably not. It didn’t matter. His promises were as much to himself as to her. Nothing would stop him from helping his half-brothers have a better childhood than he’d had, as soon as he could get custody. But, to do that, he had to find Rufio and persuade him to sign over his parental rights.
Chapter Three
6:00 p.m., Monday, July 7
Alex had dinner waiting by the time her dad got home. She couldn’t wait to tell him their lead story this week could be a homicide.
“It was weird, though, Dad. Joe and his partner were just standing around, not doing anything but waiting for CSI, even though Joe said it could be homicide. Shouldn’t they have been looking for clues?”
“What kind of clues do you think they might find? From what you told me about the condition of the body, he’d probably been out there for months.”
“No, Dad, Joe said it could have been just a couple of weeks. Because of the sun and heat. But the medical examiner will be more precise, he said.”
“Since when did Joe Hendricks become an expert on the condition of dead bodies?”
“I know you don’t like Joe, Dad, but he is an experienced deputy. Why can’t you give him some respect?”
Paul Ward grinned. “I don’t like anyone who dates my daughter, you know that.”
Alex smirked back. “Well, don’t worry, it’s not serious. Joe will be here when he’s old and gray, and I’ve got other plans you know.”
“And you know I don’t like those any better than I like Joe Hendricks,” Dad grumbled.
Alex sighed. After she’d graduated from high school, she had informed Dad his idea of her future didn’t match hers. He’d like nothing better than to keep her at home, working for the family newspaper and eventually taking it over when he was ready for retirement. She couldn’t wait to get out of Dodge, the tired old joke each graduating class made their motto. In fact, most of the kids from her class were gone already, never to return except for family visits.
A scholarship from the local Rotary club and her own savings had seen her through the first year of college as a mass communications major. With her summer classes, she’d finish her sophomore requirements by year end, and she planned to commute to Casa Grande only those few months before transferring to University of Arizona and moving out on her own. Dad could bluster all he wanted to, but Alex was going to do things her way, which didn’t include working for a weekly newspaper in a podunk town like Dodge. Her sights were set on Phoenix.
“Did you know Dylan Chaves is back in town?” Alex set a plate of grilled pork chops in front of her dad and turned to serve up the corn on the cob. She turned back just in time to see her father attempt to compose his face, which was still red.
“Stay away from him,” he said.
“Dad, give it a rest. What happened was four years ago. I’m a big girl now, and I’ll see who I want to.”
“I told him…”
“I know what you told him. I was there, remember? Don’t worry, I have no intention of dating him again. But if I did, you couldn’t stop me. Stop treating me like a child, Dad.”
Paul opened his mouth, then, glancing at Alex, closed it again.
Her heart was hammering in her chest, and without a doubt there was a flush on her cheeks. Maybe it would pass for anger. Dad would have a conniption if he knew what she was thinking. Dylan was still the hottest guy she’d ever been close to. He was better looking than ever now, not that he’d been hard to look at back then. How would it be if they could finish what Dad had interrupted four years ago? On the other hand, she couldn’t let that happen. Dylan was not part of her plans.
“Dad, don’t you think it’s sad they don’t know who that guy is? What if he has a family somewhere, wondering what happened to him?”
Paul grunted, his attention on the TV news.
“Don’t you ever wonder? About Mom, I mean?” It had been more than fourteen years, but Alex quailed when she saw the pain and anger in her dad’s eyes. He still didn’t want to talk about it, and she still needed to know. What had made her mother leave her when she was only five? If her dad knew, he’d never said a word to her. Alex had eventually concluded her mother didn’t love her, and that’s why she’d never come back. She knew that was a simplistic answer and likely not the real one, but her heart never let her forget and her dad’s silence demanded she not ask. Without waiting for an answer to her awkward question, Alex went to her room.
She shouldn’t have mentioned Mom, when Dad was already agitated. Why had he reacted so strongly to hearing Dylan’s name, though? After all, the incident was in the distant past.
~~~
Four years ago
“What in God’s name is going on here?” Daddy’s roar as he turned on the light scared me out of my wits and I screamed, tried to cover myself. I’d never been more humiliated in my life. Caught nearly naked, wearing nothing but panties, in the arms of my boyfriend. Why hadn’t we gone to his place, instead of mine? His mother would never have heard us—she was usually drunk.
Dylan took the blame. “I’m sorry, sir. It was all my fault. It won’t happen again.” In spite of his state of undress, Dylan stood straight and tall, shoulders back and chin high, with Daddy’s shotgun pointed directly at him. I was proud of him and terrified for him, all at once. My blouse found at last, I held it tightly against my chest and willed Daddy to put down the gun. I couldn’t speak and my legs didn’t want to support me, so I couldn’t run, as badly as I wanted to.
“You’re damned right, it won’t. Didn’t you turn eighteen a few weeks ago?” Daddy’s face was so red, I began to worry about him, too. Didn’t that mean his blood pressure was too high? My mind scrabbled for the memory from health class, and then gave it up, unable to focus on anything but the barrel of the shotgun. Put the gun down, Daddy, for God’s sake.
“Yes, sir.” Dylan answered.
“I could have you arrested for statutory rape,” Daddy shouted.
Oh, my God, could it get any worse? “Daddy,” I started. Stopped, because the word came out tinny, as if I were talking from a long, long way away. Nothing happened, I wanted to say.
“Shut up, you little whore,” Daddy snapped.
That did it. I burst into tears, and Dylan’s arm came around me.
“Don’t talk to her like that, sir. Shoot me if you’re going to, but your daughter deserves more respect.” Shoot him? Oh, God, no!
“Respect?! You, you…you dare talk to me
about respect? With my naked daughter standing next to you? I’ll teach you respect!” He raised the gun with purpose, and I screamed again.
“Sir, I love your daughter, and I do respect her. Please, you’re scaring her. Put down the gun and let her get dressed. I’ll go anywhere with you, but you don’t want to do this here in your own home. Sir.”
Dylan’s voice was steady. I was terrified Daddy would take his offer, drive off with him and shoot him out in the desert where his body might never be found. Dylan knew what he was doing, though. Daddy lowered the gun.
“Get dressed, both of you,” he said, turning to leave the room.
After Daddy shut the door, Dylan took a moment to hold me and kiss the top of my head. “It’s going to be okay, baby. He won’t shoot me. He just needed to release some emotion. Get dressed.”
Sobbing, I sagged against him for a moment. When I felt I could support myself, I did as he said, and Dylan did the same. We came out of my bedroom hand in hand, to find my father standing with his arms crossed. He’d put away the gun. Relief washed through me.
When Daddy spoke, most of the rage was gone. A pained expression lined his face as he spoke. “Son, I’m going to give you one chance to do the right thing. If you don’t know what that is, ask me. I know it’s been hard for you, growing up without a dad, but you don’t violate a man’s daughter, certainly not in his own home. Now, get out. I don’t want to see you in this house again.” I was watching Daddy’s face as he spoke, so I didn’t see Dylan’s expression. Later, I’d wish I had. I didn’t understand Daddy’s. He didn’t look mad anymore, he looked sad and defeated. I knew that look. He wore it when he didn’t know what to do for me, his motherless child.
I was still trying to figure out what Dad was thinking when Dylan squeezed my hand.
“Thank you, sir. I think I know what you mean. I’ll take care of it.” Then, I looked at Dylan. I’ll never forget the grief on his face. I began to shake again as he turned to leave. What did Daddy mean, the right thing? What was Dylan going to do?
A few days later, he told me.
“He’s right, baby. You’re too young to get as involved as we were getting. Besides, you know I’m leaving Dodge, going to school. It isn’t fair to you, to expect you to wait for me. You’re only fourteen…” Dylan’s voice was flat, and he wouldn’t look at me, though we sat face-to-face on a bench in the park. The night had closed around us, the breeze barely rustling the palm leaves.
I didn’t want to hear what came next, so I tried to distract him. “Fifteen,” I interrupted. “I turned fifteen last month.”
He sighed, reaching for my upper arms, which he rubbed up and down. “Baby, listen to me. That’s too young. I don’t know what I was thinking the other night. It was wrong of me. Your dad’s never gonna forgive me, and if he didn’t come in when he did, I might never forgive myself. Besides, I’m leaving in a few weeks and I don’t plan to come back. We have to break up.” He almost choked on the last sentence, and it gave me hope.
I leaned forward, eyes on his lips. “Break up? What? Dylan, I love you!” What did I know about love? Puppy love, maybe. I was fifteen, for God’s sake. He didn’t tell me he loved me, then or ever again.
Two weeks later, Dylan kissed me goodbye, and I thought my heart was literally broken in two. It remained broken until the following Homecoming, when Lefty Brown asked me out. After that, I had a pretty normal teen experience for a small town. There’s nothing to do here unless you’re an avid outdoorsman, which I’m not and never have been. I stay fit, but the sun is too harsh for my fair skin, except early in the mornings.
I dated a series of boys, went steady on a serial basis, two months here, three months there. Inevitably, we’d get to the ball park, but never again did anyone get past first base. I remembered too well what my father might do.
What I forgot was Dylan. He never wrote, never called. Never got in touch with me again. So, I pushed him down in my memory, ruthlessly buried him in my heart until it didn’t hurt anymore.
~~~
I close my eyes, the sensation of Dylan’s lips against the sensitive skin of my neck sending shivers of delight through me. He nibbles along my jawbone before taking my mouth and I open to his probing tongue. His hands roam my body, pausing to brush softly against my bare breasts and tweak the taut buds at the tips.
I bow upward, seeking firmer contact with Dylan’s hands, his chest, along his naked torso. He captures my hands as they wander downward. “Not yet,” he says.
With only a slight moan of frustration, I relax as he kisses me deeply again, and again starts with the sensitive spot just behind my ear, repeating every delicious move he’s made so far.
“Dylan,” I gasp, desperate for him to touch me where his hands haven’t yet roamed. Desperate to touch him.
“Yes, my love?” he answers. A slight frown creases my face. That doesn’t sound like Dylan…
Alex woke with a jerk, confused to find herself fully clothed and with no Dylan in sight. She moaned as she realized what had gone before was just a dream, fueled no doubt by the memory she’d tried to suppress with one of the romance novels strewn across her bed. So much for that theory.
What the hell was wrong with her, anyway? It had been four years since she and Dylan had almost made love. The dream was embarrassing, far more erotic than anything that had really happened with him, or anyone else for that matter. Nothing like it would ever happen with Dylan, now, but if she were to run into him around town, how could she keep a straight face? And she would. Run into him, that is. There was no help for it in a town like Dodge. Sooner or later, she’d come face to face with him, and unless she missed her guess, hers would light up like a slot machine, complete with ringing bells.
Alex got up and paced in her room, heedless of the late hour. This wouldn’t do. She glared at the books on her bed and then swept them off. Nothing but crime novels from now on. She couldn’t afford to have all those love scenes in her head when she went to sleep, if the result was dreaming of Dylan.
“Alex, are you all right?”
Shit, she’d woken her dad. “Yes, Dad, I’m fine. Some books fell off my bed.”
“Okay, good night.”
Alex kicked one of the offending books, ignoring the allure of the bare male chest on the cover. She swept the rest of them under the bed and looked for something safer on her bookshelf. Moby Dick, that ought to do it. If that didn’t put her to sleep without erotic dreams, nothing would.
Chapter Four
7:00 p.m., Monday, July 7
With his mom asleep, the hours until bedtime looked bleak. Dylan had exhausted his leads in searching for Rufio, as well as his arguments with DCS to return his brothers to their home now he was here. There was nothing more he could do tonight. Tomorrow he’d check on any progress the sheriff’s department had made in identifying the dead man.
There was nothing to indicate the body was Rufio, except according to people he’d talked to, his stepdad had been in town until shortly before Dylan’s transfer to Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument was complete and he’d arrived in Dodge a couple of weeks ago. Then Rufio had disappeared. Dylan’s inquiries had led him from one acquaintance to another, but none of them had seen him since last month—two, maybe three weeks ago. When he asked where Rufio was working, everyone shrugged their shoulders. It seemed the bastard was up to his old ways of living off a woman, just as he had when he’d been with Dylan’s mom. But, no one could tell Dylan who the woman was, either.
Dylan’s thoughts chased themselves fruitlessly around in circles until he stopped them by slamming his fist against the wall. There was no point in this. What he needed was some normal human interaction.
Seeing Alex today had been a shock. She hadn’t changed, but she had. Where before she was a ripe, sexy teen beauty who was completely unaware of her looks, now she was leaner, more confident, still beautiful and even sexier. Grown up. The humiliation of their next-to-last meeting was a distant memory, but the thought
of the creamy skin and perfect breasts he’d glimpsed before her dad burst in stirred his groin. It had been a while since he’d had time for a woman, and he didn’t have time now. But, once he thought of Alex, she wouldn’t get out of his head.
By eight, Dylan could no longer talk himself out of calling Alex. The worst she could do was say no, right? He looked up the number in the slender local phone book. Paul Ward, still living in the same house, no doubt had the same phone number, though Dylan had forgotten it. Holding the book open with one hand, he dialed his cell phone with his thumb.
“Alex? It’s Dylan Chaves. I just wanted to say it was good seeing you this afternoon.”
The silence on the other end of the line worried him. What did she think of him after all these years? Did she have a boyfriend? She’d looked kind of tight with Hendricks.
“Oh, hi, Dylan. You, too.” He’d forgotten what he said already. Awkward.
“Can I buy you a drink? Got a few minutes to catch up?”
“Dylan, I’m underage, remember?” He flushed, though there was no one to see it.
“A Coke, then? I’d just like to see you. Hang out, catch up some. Okay?”
“I don’t think so, Dylan. I’ve got school tomorrow, and I’m pretty busy.”
“School?”
“I’m going to college over at Casa Grande, and taking some online classes. Like I said, I’m pretty busy.”
Dylan’s shoulders slumped. She sounded so…distant. After what they’d meant to each other. “Lexi, come on, it’s just a Coke. Just a few minutes, for old times’ sake?”
“Don’t call me that. And isn’t it just a bit too late? Four years, Dylan. I’ve moved on.”
Fatal Exposure Page 2
