by Linda Style
He didn’t say anything for a long time, just kept gently massaging her back and shoulders, and then finally he said, “I have lots of thoughts. And they all have to do with you. With us.”
With us. Lord, she wanted nothing more than to lean into him, to feel his warmth and strength wrapped around her. She wanted him to hold her and make her feel safe again.
The dull ache of loneliness she’d fought for so long began to take over, threating to overwhelm her. Could they ever…was there even a thread of hope that they could maybe find each other again? Find the love they once had.
No matter how much she’d pushed those thoughts from her mind, no matter how many years she’d refused to acknowledge it, she was still in love with Luke.
She bolted upright. “Luke…we have to focus on what we need to do.”
Her cell phone rang. Her heart leaped to her throat. She’d forgotten to shut the phone off after calling Mark. Luke glared at her, but nodded for her to answer anyway. Picking it up, she checked the number. Mark. It was only Mark. Thank God. She stood, answering at the same time. “Mark. I’m so glad to hear from you.”
Luke got up and left the room.
“What’s up?” she asked, hitching her hip on the corner of the desk.
“I need you here,” he said. “This place isn’t the same without you.”
“I can’t come back yet.”
“Why not? We haven’t heard anything more, so why not come home?”
Julianna couldn’t tell him why she couldn’t. She couldn’t tell him anything. But…she had a thought. “Mark, when you were at SCU, did you know any professors interested in haiku?”
“Haiku? You mean the poetry?”
“Yes.”
The line was silent for a while. “I’m not sure about haiku, but there was one prof who was big in the English and poetry department. Received all kinds of awards.”
“What was his name?”
“Man, you’re testing my memory here. That was ten years ago, and he probably isn’t there anymore.”
“It’s important.”
“Uh, let me think. And I’ve got another call. I’ll get back to you in a few. Okay?”
“Sure.”
As she hung up, Julianna walked to the window. What was she going to do about Luke? What could she do about Luke? She hadn’t a clue what he wanted to talk about. Us, he’d said. He wanted to quit their plan. That had to be it. He didn’t trust her because she’d walked out on him.
But hadn’t he done the same by drowning himself in booze? And what good did it do to think about any of that now? They were done.
Pushing the thoughts away, she sat at the desk and pulled out her briefcase. She had research to do on the next story. Anything to forget the ridiculous thoughts that seemed to crowd her brain. Us, he’d said. She pulled up FindLaw.com and set to work on the Darnell case.
Before she knew it, it was dusk and time for her to feed the horses. Luke hadn’t come back all afternoon, and she had to find him before she could go out to the barn.
She didn’t have to look far. He’d already come looking for her.
“You ready?” he said as they stood in the hallway. He seemed distant.
“Where were you? I thought I wasn’t supposed to be out of your sight?”
“I knew exactly where you were.” He pointed to a corner of her room, but she couldn’t see anything. “You’ve bugged my room?”
“Clever, aren’t I? You can’t even see the camera it’s so small.”
“You…you creep.” She punched him in the arm, whirled around and started for the door, clicking on her wire as she hurried outside and toward the barn. The sun was dropping rapidly behind the mountains and a quick wind whipped her hair into her face. God, she could barely put one foot in front of the other, she was weary and mentally tired and had to admit, she didn’t know how much longer she could do this.
It had to end soon, she decided, as she opened the barn door. Luke and his team were reinvestigating the case. Wasn’t that her goal in the beginning?
The pitchfork lay to the side of one of the hay bales, not where she’d left it. Was Abe getting forgetful again? One of the horses whinnied. A thrashing fluttering sounded at her side. She jerked around, heard a shrill squawk, wings flapped violently in her face. She jumped back, her heart banging through her chest. She gasped for air. Geez. A freaking chicken. How the hell had it gotten in here?
She scanned all around, turning as she looked. Nothing out of place. Just the stupid bird that was now shrieking and acting like she’d scared it instead of the other way around. She calmed herself, grabbed the pitchfork handle and went to soothe Balboa. “It’s okay, boy. It’s okay.” Her words were as much for herself as the horse.
As rattled as she was, she knew Luke was watching her every move. With cameras inside and out, he could see everything….and he was going to razz her like crazy about this later. She stuck her tongue out at the camera. Still, knowing he was there gave her a sense of comfort and security. She’d missed that. She hadn’t realized how much.
After feeding both horses, she tapped the microphone, the signal that she was coming out. “I’m leaving now,” she said.
Balboa whinnied.
She turned. “What’s up, big guy?” She reached to brush his face, but he jerked away, skittish. She heard rustling behind her. Sensed she wasn’t alone.
Oh, God! A scream formed in her throat, but a hand clamped over her mouth from behind. Then an arm came around her neck like a tourniquet, pinching her windpipe…crushing her against a man’s body.
She wrestled from one side to the other, but the viselike grip at her neck tightened. Her blood roared in her ears. She flailed at the mic. “Luke!” she screamed, a muffled groan in her throat. She felt the mic rip off. Oh, God. Luke couldn’t hear her…not even her scuffling.
But Luke would know. He was watching. She glanced at the camera. Oh, no. They were under the camera, not in front of it. Luke thought she was coming out. He was waiting for her. He’d know when she didn’t come out. But that would be too late.
“Hi sweetheart,” a gravelly voice hissed in her ear. “You still think I’m a crank?”
In a split-second decision, she went limp, remembering from somewhere that it would take an assailant off guard. But as she slid downward, he yanked her up by the neck, compressing her windpipe even more.
She stomped at his foot but got only air.
“You want to fight, sweetheart?” he growled. “I like women who fight.”
True horror set in. She’d set a trap…for herself. He squeezed harder. Stars flared in her eyes. But Luke would come. He had to. Unless…someone got to him first.
“You should have listened to me. Left things alone. It’s your fault that I have to kill you.”
Her head spun. The world blurred. His words muffled in her ears and now he was dragging her, dragging her. Where was he taking her? Balboa flashed in her peripheral vision. The gun. She’d hidden the gun behind a barrel two feet away. Only she couldn’t get it. Light and dark strobed before her eyes. Just as blackness overtook her, the grip loosened.
He thought she was unconscious. Or maybe that he’d strangled her. Somewhere in the foggy recesses of her brain, she knew not to move. He let her fall to the floor, thudding like a sack of flour. Hay matted against her face. The scent cleared her brain. She saw a glint of metal. The gun. If he thought she was passed out or dead she might have a chance. But if she failed, he could get away and kill again. She couldn’t let that happen, no matter what.
Mustering her strength, she readied her legs and then giving it her all, she leaped forward like a frog, grabbed the cold handle of the .38, rolled over and pointed it in the face of the man hovering over her.
For one fraction of a second she saw fear in his hard eyes. “Move and you’re dead,” she growled, no question in her mind that she meant it. It was only when he grabbed for the gun that she recognized him.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“LUKE!” Abe shouted into his wire. “Julianna isn’t answering.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“No.”
“I’ve got all the cameras working. Everything seems okay. She said she’s coming out.”
“That was sixty seconds ago. Where is she?”
“I heard her say something to Balboa. She’s calming him down.” Then Luke saw movement near the side of the barn. A horse rounded the corner. Stella Hancock.
“What the hell—” Abe spat out.
A gunshot rang out. Then another.
Luke saw Stella slide off her mount and run into the barn. He bolted out the door, gun in hand. “Cover me, Pops.”
“Stella’s inside,” Abe hollered. “Don’t let anything happen to her, Luke.”
Luke reached the half-open door and hearing a man’s voice, he froze.
“You can’t shoot me, old woman. If you do, your friend here is dead.”
His heart in his throat, Luke crept around the corner to the window and eased himself up. Jules was sprawled on the floor, a man standing over her with a gun, while Stella Hancock pointed her weapon at him. Jules wasn’t dead or the man wouldn’t be dealing with Stella. But she looked badly hurt.
Anger induced adrenaline burned through Luke’s veins. If anything happened to Jules… It was his fault. He never should’ve allowed her to do this.
It took everything in his power not to rush inside. If he did, the guy might panic and shoot. His hands shook as he readied his gun. He had to stay calm. Think. Dammit. He wasn’t in any position to get off a shot, not without endangering Jules and Stella. But it was the only way.
He aimed dead on and pulled the trigger.
Almost simultaneously another shot rang out. The man crumpled. Luke raced for the door. As he tore inside, he saw Abe at the back of the barn, rifle in hand.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
JULIANNA AWAKENED to bright lights and the dry scent of alcohol. The first thing she saw was a big vase of roses next to the bed…and then Luke’s face came into focus.
“Hi,” he said.
She gave a tentative smile. “I’m alive? Or is this a dream?”
“You’re alive.”
“My head hurts.”
“The doc says you’ll have a sore leg and a headache for a little while.”
She glanced down at her leg but the covers blocked her view. She reached for her head and touched a gauzy fabric. Bandages.
“It was a clean wound on the leg, the doc said. The head wound is minor, a graze. A week or two and you should be as good as new.”
Luke smiled, but his eyes looked sad.
“Did we get the bad guy?”
Luke nodded. “He’s behind bars as we speak. My dad had called the sheriff immediately after we heard the shots, and Yuma was there before the ambulance.”
Julianna pushed up on her elbows and Luke came closer to help her, puffing up the pillow behind her head. “I got the gun,” Julianna said. “But he overpowered me. I think it went off and hit my leg. I don’t remember exactly.”
“You’re alive, that’s all that counts.”
“A lot of good that gun training did, huh?” Her leg throbbed and her head hurt, but it didn’t matter. The sicko was in jail.
Luke gently sat on the bed. “You had a narrow escape.”
“What happened after Stella came in? It’s all a blur in my head.”
“We’re still not clear on it either. But what we do know is that he was taking aim when Stella made an appearance. She surprised him enough so when he shot you, the bullet only grazed your head. I heard the first shot, but when I got there, I saw Stella had her gun on him. Just as I was taking aim, our bad guy went down.”
“Who—?”
“Abe.” Luke gave her a big, proud smile. “The old guy is still a crack shot. He’d come in from the back.”
“Where is he now?”
“Out in the hall with Stella. You up for seeing them?”
“Absolutely.”
“I’ll send them in.”
He stood, started to go, but she caught his sleeve. “The man. He was the one who came for the interview. I recognized him. He was right there in the house.” The horror of it hit her.
“We’re still getting the facts together, but we’re pretty sure we have—” Luke’s voice cracked “—the person who took Michael from us.”
Seeing the pain in Luke’s eyes, tears welled in her own. That they might finally have justice for Michael… She shook her head. It was too much. All too much. She pressed her face into her hands, tears suddenly streaming. Luke wrapped his arms around her, held her tight, his face in her hair. And then his body began to shake.
They shared bittersweet tears, sadness mingled with the knowledge that finally there was closure for Michael. Their son was at peace with the angels and now, God willing, maybe they could find peace themselves.
After what seemed like an eon, Luke rubbed his eyes with his shirtsleeve and brushed the tears from her cheeks with his fingertips. He stood, ready to leave.
“There’s someone else here, too. Your friend Mark. He was instrumental in identifying the guy.”
“Mark?”
“He said you asked him about a professor at the university. He got the name and when he couldn’t get hold of you on the phone, he emailed it to you. Rico picked up on it and with some other e-mail data he’d received, they got a search warrant for the professor’s house. While the psycho was at the ranch, they were collecting evidence from his place.”
Choking on his words, Luke shoved a hand through his hair. She’d never seen him like this before. Not even when Michael had disappeared. He’d always kept his emotions buried.
“They found a knife with animal blood on it and figured it’s probably the calf. No clue why unless it was a scare tactic.” He took a big breath and then went on. “So far they’ve collected enough evidence to put the guy on death row. His name is Anton Orion. Hence the star clue. Weird, I know.”
She put a hand up to stop him from saying any more. She was familiar with all the cases from her research. She didn’t want any more details, she didn’t even want to know if they’d found anything that belonged to Michael. Not now. It was enough that their beautiful son would finally rest in peace.
She wasn’t sure Luke could handle telling her either, and her heart ached at seeing him in so much pain. Between that and the wrenching emotion of knowing they’d finally found justice for their son, words simply wouldn’t come.
Their eyes met in a mix of emotions. And then Luke turned and walked out the door.
~~~
THREE DAYS LATER, Luke paced across the patio as he waited for Julianna to arrive and get her things. She’d told him her friend Mark would give her a ride from the hospital because they had a lot to talk about.
Just as well. He’d had time to do some thinking. And had managed to find someone to stay with his father. Someone Stella knew, and Abe seemed okay with that.
“Pacing won’t solve any problems, son.”
Luke turned and saw Abe settling himself on a chair. “It’s cold out here, Pops. Might not be a good idea for you since you’ve—”
“Maybe for you it’s cold, but it isn’t to me. I’ve lived here all my life and I can handle a little chill.”
Luke raised his hands. “Okay. Okay.”
After a moment of silence Abe said, “Waiting for Julianna?”
“Yes. She’s going back to San Francisco.”
“You sure she wants to do that?”
He looked at his father. “That’s what she said. Why wouldn’t I be sure?”
“Because people don’t always say what they mean, that’s why.”
Yeah, Abe had told him that before. Was there something he knew that Luke didn’t? “She’s with her…friend from San Francisco.”
“So?”
“So, that’s what she wants.”
“Is it what you want?”
He wanted to punch someth
ing. That’s what he wanted. His emotions, his heart, had been pulled inside out like an old shirt and tossed in the trash. Still pacing, he raked a hand through his hair. “Hell no. But what I want for me doesn’t matter. I want her to be happy, even if that means she’s with someone else.”
“Well, that sounds noble as all get-out.”
This was ridiculous. How could his father, a man who never went anywhere, had hardly had a decent conversation with anyone in twenty years have any clue what he was feeling? “It’s not noble. It’s reality.”
“So you’re saying that you love Julianna, but instead of telling her, you’d rather see her with someone else?”
“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it.” And talking to his dad was pointless.
“Then maybe you should forget your high-falutin’ pride and tell her.”
“Pride?” Luke scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. It’s not about that.”
“Okay. Whatever you say. My theory is that if we want something bad enough, we just have to bite the bullet and ask for it, even if the result might hurt like hell.”
“And you live by those words?”
Abe’s expression turned thoughtful. “No. I haven’t for years. That’s how I know. But, you know what, I plan to do just that. The other night made me realize I’ve wasted a lot of time. But I’m not going to squander what little I have left. Not if there’s one iota of a chance I can do something about it.”
Luke heard gravel crunch in the drive, saw a truck pull up. It was Stella’s truck. He watched as the woman got out and then came around to the passenger side. She opened the door and his jaw dropped. Jules, holding a cane in one hand, turned to get out. Stella reached to help her.
Luke practically sprinted through the patio gate to the truck. “What’s going on? Where’s Mark?”
“If you let me come inside, I’ll tell you.”
Luke blanched. “Sorry. Here, let me help you.”
Stella moved out of the way and just as Luke took Julianna’s arm to help her, Abe sidled up.
“Hello, Abraham,” Stella said.
Once Jules was on her feet, Luke scooped her into his arms and carried her toward the house. He didn’t want to hear what his father had to say to Stella. How could he feel good about a woman his father had an affair with while Luke’s mother was dying?
