by Linda Style
As they strolled past, a bracelet caught Julianna’s eye, and even she was pretty sure it was the real thing. She stopped to look at it, but Luke kept walking. As she gazed through the crowd to see how far ahead Luke was, she had the eeriest feeling that someone was watching her.
She gave a furtive glance around. No one was even looking at her, except for one woman urging her to examine her crafts.
Luke was ten feet in front, obviously more interested in getting coffee than checking out the displays. She turned back to the bracelet again, then saw a man standing near another vendor quickly avert his gaze. It struck her that she recognized him. But that was silly. She’d been to Santa Fe only a half dozen times and all of them more than five years ago. She didn’t know anyone in the city.
Still, the edgy feeling persisted. She hurried to catch up with Luke then touched his arm to get his attention. He slowed his pace. “Don’t look now, but there’s a man back there who I think is watching me.” Luke stopped at a blanket stall at the end of the walkway, bent down to look at some belt buckles. She bent down, too, and whispered, “Black hat, black outfit, silver belt.”
He cast a surreptitious glance back.
When she looked herself, the man was gone.
“You sure,” Luke said.
Feeling stupid and a little paranoid, she shrugged it off. “Must’ve been my imagination. My brain has been working overtime lately.”
His eyes widened…as if he’d never expected her to admit she’d had any misgivings about her situation.
“Any other defining features?” Luke scanned the area, his gaze like a camera on motordrive, clicking off images to file away.
“He was tall. Six feet, maybe. His face was shadowed by his hat, but something about him seemed familiar.” She shrugged. “I don’t know anyone in New Mexico except Abe, so…so, it’s probably nothing.” She thought a moment. “I take that back. I’ve met people years ago with you. Your dad’s neighbors and some other friends of yours from school. Could be someone I met, I suppose.”
He took her arm and led her down the street toward Zele’s coffee shop. “Basic instincts are usually right. When your gut tells you something, you need to listen. Especially now.”
Maybe. But she felt a little foolish, and she’d flat-out admitted she wasn’t as blasé about her could-be stalker as she’d like to think. “Right now my gut is growling from hunger. Do we have time for breakfast with that coffee?”
The restaurant was less than half full, a hangout for locals, apparently. Julianna could always tell the locals from the tourists by the way they dressed. Usually in Tshirts with Native American designs on the front and athletic shoes. Santa Feans tended to wear vibrant colors and textiles reminiscent of the Pueblo Indians, lots of turquoise and silver rings and necklaces for the women, belt buckles for the men, Stetsons and leather cowboy boots.
“Table for two,” Luke said. “Preferably by the window.”
When seated, Luke took the spot facing the door where he could see everything, a habit she’d gotten used to long ago. The fragrant scent of sopaipillas filled the air. Her salivary glands kicked into action just thinking drizzling one of the fried pastries with warm honey and gobbling it down, but her sensible side won out. Too many calories.
After they ordered, huevos rancheros for Luke and a chili pepper omelet for her, Julianna said, “It really isn’t necessary for you to stay, you know.” She peered at him over the rim of her cup. “I mean, I know you need to get back to L.A. and I can do whatever is necessary for Abe.”
He kept looking around. “Stop trying to get rid of me. I’m staying until Abe is out of the hospital and I get someone to help. After that, we’ll see.”
Good Lord. That could be days, a week even.
After that, they made small talk and when finished with breakfast they were soon back on the road, arriving home ten minutes before Luke had to leave for the interview. As they drove up to the house, she saw Stella Hancock’s truck parked in front.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
WHAT DID THAT woman want now? And why was she so damned persistent? As far as Luke knew, Abe had made it clear he didn’t want anything to do with her, and considering how she’d torn their lives apart before his mother died, he didn’t want anything to do with her either.
Ignoring Juliana, Luke climbed from the car and stalked to the house. Opening the rustic wood doors to the front entry, he found the woman sitting in the shade of the ruby-colored bougainvillea that tumbled over the adobe wall. “Can I help you with something,” Luke asked, striding toward the front door.
She stood and Luke noticed her eyes were a bit red, as if she might’ve been crying.
“I had this…feeling that something awful had happened to Abraham and I couldn’t get it out of my head. Is he okay?”
Her pewter-gray hair was pulled back at the nape and she wore flared pants, boots and lots of turquoise and silver on her hands. For a second he wondered if all the rumors were true, that she had some kind of sixth sense. She was part Navajo, an alni he’d heard, one who walked the line between traditionalist and modern culture. There were rumors that she came from a long line of healers.
Luke had his own views on the tradition of Native Americans on the res using their own healers to treat their tribes’ illnesses. To him it was like practicing medicine without a license, and the result could be fatal for someone who needed immediate care. Like his mother. His father knew the dangers and yet he’d done it anyway. This woman was as much to blame as Abe.
Jules followed in behind him. “Abe is in the hospital. He has pneumonia and will be there for a few days. But the doctor says he’ll be fine.”
The lines in the woman’s face softened. “Oh, that’s why he was having trouble breathing.”
Luke exchanged glances with Julianna. How did she know that?
“I thought it might be due to his smoking.”
This was getting weirder all the time. The most logical explanation was that Mrs. Hancock had called the hospital to find out about Abe. Even though they weren’t supposed to give information to nonrelatives, she might’ve sweet-talked one of the nurses into telling her. But how would she have known he was even there?
Hell, he didn’t have time to stand out here jawing. He had only a few minutes to get to Pecos to meet the guy he was going to interview for the job.
Having his father hospitalized had made Luke more aware of the importance in finding someone good, someone who could do more than just help with ranch chores. If Abe was alone and got sick, or injured himself in some way…it could be disastrous. The solution was obvious. Abe’s hired hand would need to live at the ranch. And his old man would like that about as much as he’d like having tofurkey for Thanksgiving dinner.
“I’ve got to go,” Luke said to Julianna.
“Sure. Good luck.”
~~~
STELLA HANCOCK STUDIED Julianna, hoping to get some positive feelings from her. She’d had a disturbing vision about the young lady, but she’d learned long ago that disclosing her special gift to non-natives usually made them think she was a witch who practiced voodoo or something.
She’d had a similar vision about Abe and experienced such an urgency, she’d been compelled to come over.
“Would you like some tea?” Julianna asked.
Stella smiled. “I’d love some. Thank you.”
“Come with me,” Julianna said. “Since it’s so nice out, we can sit on the patio if you like.”
She hadn’t been this welcomed at the Coltrane ranch since before Lizzie died. They went inside, and walking through the darkened rooms with their thick walls and small windows, Stella felt a lump form in her throat. Everything seemed just as it had been so many years ago when she and Lizzie had been close—as close as sisters.
When they reached the kitchen, Julianna said, “Go on out to the patio. I’ll bring the tea.”
Stella went outside, forcing herself to stay focused. She was here to find out about Abe. Not to
visit old memories that should have faded long ago—like the dried bouquet of flowers her lover had once given her.
She found a chair with cushions that were of the same Kokopelli design that seemed to adorn so many New Mexico homes. A few seconds later, Julianna appeared with a tray holding a teapot and two cups.
“Is it warm enough out here?” Julianna asked as she set down the tray. “I can start a fire.”
“It’s lovely. And I’m quite used to the outdoors.”
“I can see why. I live where it’s damp all the time and I love the arid climate here.”
“Where do you live?” Stella asked, hoping the answer might give her some insight about the disturbing image she’d had about the young woman sitting next to her.
Julianna hesitated. “Uh…California.” She glanced at Stella sideways. “But, tell me…How did you know Abe wasn’t well?”
She poured two cups of tea and handed one to Stella. “It was a feeling I had. A strong feeling.” She reached for the cup.
Julianna nodded, as if she might understand.
“I learned a long time ago not to ignore my strong feelings, even if they turned out to be wrong.”
“Uh-huh,” Julianna said, pensive, eyes full of questions, probably wondering whether she should believe what Stella was saying, or not.
It was the usual response and the reason she kept her thoughts to herself most of the time. But this time she couldn’t. “And now I’m happy to hear Abraham is going to be okay.”
After another thoughtful moment, the younger woman looked directly at Stella. “Good. But if you’re concerned about him, why haven’t you and Abe talked for twenty-five years?”
Stella suppressed a smile, liking the girl’s forthrightness. “Our families had a falling out,” she answered. It wasn’t a total lie, but she saw no reason to tell a stranger the whole story.
“So you were friends once?”
“A long time ago.”
“You and your husband?”
Surprised that Julianna continued asking questions, she said, “Abraham and I went to school together. We were…good friends at one time. Lizzie and I were, too.”
Julianna’s eyes widened. “Really. You knew Luke’s mother? I’d love to know more about your friendship with her.”
She hesitated. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
The younger woman’s eyes widened, her mouth opened and after a brief pause, all she said was, “Oh.” The look was priceless. She obviously hadn’t expected a refusal. Few people could resist talking about themselves, but she wasn’t one of them.
“I’m sorry,” Julianna finally said. “I hope you don’t think I’m prying. I’m a journalist and asking questions is what I do. And in this case, whenever I ask Luke or Abe about…Elizabeth, I get nothing. It’s as if talking about her would hurt too much.”
Stella took another sip of tea. Thoughtful. “You’re very perceptive. I don’t think either one has ever been able to deal with the fact that Lizzie’s death was inevitable—that it was her time, and they couldn’t do anything to help her.”
As she said the words, Stella noticed the younger woman’s face pale. She reached for her hand. “We can’t always help those we love, no matter how much we want to. Some things are out of our hands.”
When Julianna didn’t reply, Stella said, “I suppose I better leave now. I’m sorry if I said anything to upset you.”
Julianna squared her shoulders. “Uh—no. You didn’t. I appreciate you coming by to check on Abe. Even if—”
“It’s okay,” Stella said quickly. “I know how they feel, and it’s okay.” She cleared her throat and stood to go. But before she left, she said, “Please be careful while you’re here.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE GUY WAS LATE. Luke ordered a cola and decided to give him ten more minutes, hoping he had a legitimate excuse. He had no other leads on a hired hand for his dad, but he wasn’t going to hire a slacker either.
When the man didn’t show, Luke paid the waitress and got up to leave. As he walked to his car, his cell rang. He fished it from the pocket of his leather jacket and glanced at the number. Not one he recognized. “Coltrane,” he said.
Nothing. “This is Luke.” Then a crackling sound and the dial tone. Dammit. He hit a couple of buttons. No call back number, but his phone was working fine. Maybe the call was cut off on the other end. Maybe it was the guy saying he’d be late. Or maybe it was Jules. He punched in his dad’s number.
No answer. His nerves tightened as an awful awareness dawned on him. He’d left the ranch while the Hancock woman was there, not thinking that Jules would be on her own when their visitor went home. A cold shiver ran up his spine. Shit! Shit, shit, shit.
He jumped into the car, caught his jacket on the corner of the door as he sat, ripped it loose and started the engine. He slammed the accelerator to the floor and hauled ass down the highway, his heart hammering triple time. If something happened to Jules—dammit! How could he be so stupid.
All he’d wanted to do was get away from Stella Hancock. He’d reacted on emotion. He never did that. For once in his life, he hoped the neighbor hadn’t left and they were simply talking and hadn’t heard the phone. Or maybe Jules was in the bathroom.
But whatever scenario he came up with didn’t ease his mind and when he barreled up the road to the house, dust and dirt spiraling behind him, his heart clanged against his chest so hard he thought his ribs might break. He’d barely set foot from his vehicle before Jules met him outside. “Back so soon?” she asked. “Did you hire him?”
His stomach did a belly flop. His gaze darted. She was alone. Relief swamped him. And she was just standing there with no idea her life could’ve been in danger because of him. He sucked in some air. “No. He didn’t show.” The words came out sharper than he wanted.
“Really? You think something happened?”
She hurried alongside as he stormed toward the house.
“It doesn’t matter if something happened. He showed his character by not bothering to call.” Irresponsible people annoyed the hell out of him.
“Is something else wrong?”
“No—” he tried to soften his voice “—nothing else is wrong.” Except that he’d been rookie stupid and if something had happened to her… He slammed open the door.
“Do you have any other leads on someone to hire?”
“I put the word out with some local people, and I hung a notice at the Circle K. And there’s the ad in the paper. We’ll see what comes up.”
As they walked inside together, Luke half expected Abe to greet them, then realized he wasn’t there. They were alone. “I need something cold to drink. How about you?”
“I made some lemonade.”
“Fine.”
Luke watched Julianna as she went to the fridge and then poured two glasses of lemonade. He liked to watch her. She moved with an easy grace that he found sexy as hell.
But what he thought one way or the other didn’t matter. How he felt about her didn’t matter. He couldn’t let any of it matter. “I’d like to see those e-mail messages again.”
“Why? You know what they say.”
“Yeah, but I had some ideas. I thought of a way to find out where they came from.”
“I tried that already. The messages are scrambled somehow. I even asked a friend who’s a computer geek and he said to forget it.”
“I know an expert.”
“Someone here?”
He shook his head. “No, Rico. Remember?”
“But he’s in Los Angeles.”
“Go ahead. Pull them up. Then I’ll call him and see if he can help us do a search.”
Luke followed Jules into her bedroom. The laptop was on the unmade bed, and as she sat and turned on the machine to pull up her e-mail, he stood opposite her, staying his distance. Just being close to her made him aware of how good they’d once been together. He couldn’t guarantee what might happen if he got any closer.
He
watched as she clicked on the keys, then used the mouse. The soft light from the screen illuminated her pale, beautiful face, but hid the intensity she carried inside. He knew what she was thinking, her brain ticking off the moments until he left. And that only made her more desirable. Why the hell did he always want what he couldn’t have?
He sat on the end of the mattress, still keeping his distance. Her unique scent rose from the bedding like an aphrodisiac, like opium, sucking him in. He wanted to pull her down between the sheets with him, bury his head in her silky hair…bury himself inside…
“Oh, God,” she whispered. Her face went white.
He jumped up and came around behind her. “What?”
She didn’t speak and simply waved at the computer.
He looked down to see a new message on the screen. “I know where you are.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“YEAH,” A SLEEPY VOICE answered when Luke made the call to Rico.
“Sorry to wake you, buddy, but I need your help.”
“Luke? Where are you?”
“I’m still in New Mexico. I’ve got a favor to ask. A couple favors as a matter of fact.”
“Shoot.”
Luke could always count on Rico and Jordan, LAPD’s finest detectives and the best friends anyone could have. No matter where, when or how difficult the task might be, they were there. “I need your computer expertise. I have some e-mail messages and I need to find out where they originated.”
“You have a computer with you?”
He cleared his throat. “It’s not mine. But I need to track the messages to find out who sent them.”
“Did you click on Reply?”
“Click on Reply,” Luke directed Julianna.
“I did. The reply address is garbage.”
“Doesn’t work. What else?”
“Nothing that I can do from here. If I had the computer I might be able to figure it out. There’s always a way.”
Luke thought for a minute. “That’s not possible. At least not right this minute.” He shoved a hand through his hair, his frustration rising. “There has to be a way to do this.”
