Blood Stains

by Sharon Sala

  Then Maria came back into the room.

  “Sorry,” she muttered, as she sat back down on the floor. “It just took me by surprise.”

  Bodie stroked the side of her cheek, then handed the book back to her.

  She thumbed through the rest of the pages until she came to the last photo and once again was taken aback. It was a picture of her playing on the floor and surrounded by a dozen or more tiny, brightly colored horses.

  “Oh, oh, oh…my ponies…my ponies.”

  Her hands were shaking as she laid the book aside and began digging frantically through the contents of the last box. All of a sudden she pulled out a large shoe box and rocked back on her heels.

  “What is it?” Becky asked.

  Maria opened the lid, and then dumped them out onto the floor and began setting them up as she must have done as a child.

  Her ponies.

  “The herd. It’s my herd of My Little Ponies. I remember playing with these. They were my favorite toys.”

  “And now you train real ones,” Bodie said.

  Maria shivered. Again the ghost of her past was rearing its head into the present.

  “I always thought I loved horses because Dad and Bud raised them. I didn’t know… I didn’t remember…about this…about having them before.”

  She picked up the book, absently flipping through the blank pages to the end.

  “I guess that’s all,” she said, but as she came to the back flyleaf, she saw a few more words. Suddenly she gasped.

  “Oh, my God, look. It says ‘marys dade,’ only there’s no picture. Just the words. I guess the photo got lost.”

  “Let me see,” Bodie asked.

  Maria handed it over.

  From where he’d been sitting, he’d seen a crease on the inside flyleaf, as if it had been pulled loose, then glued back down. He ran his finger along the edges, then frowned as he ran the flat of his hand across the page itself.

  “There’s something under here,” he said as he pulled out a pocketknife. He carefully cut a slit along the bottom and side of the cover, then removed a single folded sheet of paper.

  Bodie scanned the page, and when he realized what it was, he looked up.

  “This is a lab report on a DNA sample. It doesn’t have a name on it, but listen to what it does say.

  “‘Sample is 99.9 percent consistent with being the biological father of Mary Blake.’ Wow. Sally Blake might not have been able to read, but she wasn’t stupid. Somehow she got a DNA sample from your biological father and sent it off to some lab so she’d have proof.”

  Maria snatched the page out of his hands and quickly scanned it, but he was right. There was no designated name for the donor. Only a series of numbers identifying the sample.

  “Is there a way to find out who the donor was?” she asked.

  “It’s been twenty years. I doubt this lab is still in operation, but I’ll check. I can, however, run these results through the computer. If the man had ever had an occasion to have a DNA sample run through CODIS, we might get a hit. Either way, it’s still a long shot. Can I take this?”

  “Yes, yes,” Maria said, and handed it to him, then took Becky’s hand. “I cannot thank you enough for saving all this. Not only have you given me the only link I’ll ever have with my mother, but thanks to you, we’re closer to finding out who killed her than anyone’s ever been.”

  Becky was elated. But while she was happy the past was being revealed, even in small increments, there was something Maria also needed to know about the present. She stood up, then glanced at Bodie.

  “It’s after twelve. I’m going to make some sandwiches. Will you stay and eat with me? Nothing fancy, but I’d love the company.”

  Bodie glanced at Maria. She nodded.

  “That would be great,” he said. “But as soon as we’ve finished, I want to get back to the office with this.”

  Becky raised an eyebrow, then stared pointedly.

  “I’m sure you two have plenty you need to discuss. Take your time. I’ll call you when lunch is ready.”

  Maria began rewrapping her treasures to be shipped back to Montana, then stopped. Since some of them were breakable, she wanted to use bubble wrap instead of the old newspapers they’d been in to ensure their safe arrival.

  Bodie stopped her with a touch, then took her by the hand and pulled her down beside him on the sofa.

  “We need to talk.”

  The tone of his voice put a knot in Maria’s stomach.

  “What happened?”

  “Last night, up at the lake, someone broke into Sam Vincent’s house and tried to kill him.”

  Maria gasped. “Oh, my God. Is he all right? Did they catch the guy who—”

  “Sam’s fine. The man kicked in his door. Shot and killed his dog, and tried to take Sam out. Sam killed him, instead.”

  “That’s awful…just awful. Was it a robbery gone bad?”

  “Not according to Sam.” He proceeded to tell her about Sam’s belief that it had to do with the reopening of her mother’s murder case. When Bodie mentioned that the killer had called Sam “Tank” and the implication of that, she paled.

  “So you’re saying…?” she began.

  “That it probably wasn’t a robbery, that the man was there to kill someone connected to Sally’s past. What we don’t know is why someone wants Sam dead now, when it didn’t matter before, unless they’ve somehow linked you to the case, and then to him.”

  “But how? I didn’t tell anyone but you.”

  Bodie frowned. “There might be a leak in the department. My boss is on it. We’re not sure how it’s all going to play out, but you and Becky need to be careful. Don’t open your door to anyone unless you know them, and if you haven’t ordered room service, don’t open the door to anyone from the hotel, even if they’re dressed in a hotel uniform.”

  “A man’s dead—maybe because of me,” Maria whispered, and covered her face.

  “Don’t feel sorry for him,” Bodie said. “He took his chances when he messed with Sam Vincent. What you need to take heart in is the fact that maybe secrets are starting to unfold, which is what needs to happen to solve the mystery.”

  “Yes, okay. I get what you mean, but it’s also frightening. I’ve never been involved in something criminal. I haven’t even had a speeding ticket.”

  Bodie cupped the side of her cheek. “But that’s just it, Maria. You have been involved…in a murder. And you’re finally beginning to remember how.”

  Maria felt the weight of the world on her shoulders as she leaned into his touch. This was hard—so hard.

  Suddenly Becky called them from the hall.

  “Lunch is ready!”

  “Be right there,” Bodie said.

  He got up, then offered Maria his hand. Their fingers laced as he pulled her up, but instead of stopping, she wrapped her arms around his waist and hid her face against his chest.

  He pulled her close, his voice low and urgent when he spoke.

  “I’m sorry for the reason you had to come back to Tulsa, and that you’re having to go through all this, but I’m not sorry you came. I can’t imagine living my life and never having known you.”

  He tilted her chin until their gazes locked.

  Maria slid her hand behind his neck and pulled.

  He groaned beneath his breath as their lips met, and then his hands were on her back and sliding down to her hips and holding her close—as close against him as she could be without him being inside her.

  Becky came into the room, grinned, and did a two-step backward and out before they ever knew she’d been there.

  The meal was nearly over when Bodie’s phone rang. It didn’t take long for him to make an apologetic exit.

  “Duty calls,” he said, then thanked Becky for lunch and eyed Maria. “Walk me to the door?”

  She followed him out, then stopped just inside the front door. She knew he was going to kiss her even before it happened and would have been disappointed if he h
adn’t. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t known him long. She just knew she liked him, which was something she hadn’t felt in years.

  “Are you going back to the hotel soon?” he asked.

  “Not for a while. I feel like I should stay as long as Becky will put up with me. Being here with her, among all these things from my past, has given me hope that my memory will return in full. I don’t want to miss an opportunity.”

  He pulled her into his arms.

  “Lady…you’re so getting under my skin.”

  Maria put her arms around his neck and tilted her face up for the kiss.

  “I like you, too,” she said softly, and then he swooped.

  One kiss led to another, then another until he finally broke off with a groan.

  “Lord, have mercy. I want. I want you,” he whispered, then swept another quick, hard kiss across her mouth before leaving her standing in the doorway, wanting him back.

  But he was gone.

  Maria shivered as she went back into the kitchen to help clean up the dishes.

  Becky eyed the pensive expression on Maria’s face as she came back and smiled to herself. Her baby was falling for the cop. She just hoped no one got hurt out of the deal. When Maria grabbed a dishcloth and began cleaning off the table, Becky had a moment of déjà vu. She paused with her hands in the dishwater and just stared.

  “You have to know, right now I feel like twenty years have disappeared, and Sally and I are cleaning up from lunch, like we have a hundred times before.”

  Maria looked up. “Tell me stories,” she said, as she came back to the sink.

  And so the afternoon passed.

  When it came time for Maria to leave, Becky handed her a key.

  “What’s this?” Maria asked.

  “A key to my house. I have a hair appointment in the morning, and you might want to start packing before I get back.”

  Maria frowned. “Oh, I don’t feel right taking your key.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you don’t really know me. I might—”

  Becky sighed. “Honey, I know enough. Take the key. I should be back around eleven. How about I bring some KFC home with me?”

  “You don’t have to feel obligated to keep feeding me, either. I could take you out somewhere later.”

  “We’ll see,” Becky said. “I don’t suppose you’d consider moving out of the hotel and staying here until the case is closed? It would save you a lot of money, and you know I have room.”

  Now Maria was really touched. “I don’t know. That’s a huge imposition,” she said. “Let’s take this one day at a time and see how it goes.”

  Becky shrugged. “Okay. It’s your call, but just know that from my standpoint, you’re free to come and go as you please.”

  “Thank you,” Maria said, then went into the living room to sort through what needed to be shipped, separating the things into piles of breakables and unbreakables, and getting them out of the middle of Becky’s floor.

  She left late that afternoon with a head full of stories and a peace in her heart that she hadn’t felt since the day her drama had begun.

  Franklin was desperate. He’d called in a favor to find out why the Sally Blake case had been reopened, and the news couldn’t have been worse. Maria Slade had supposedly witnessed her mother’s murder. There was added info about coming back with a journal and amnesia that he hadn’t quite understood. It wasn’t until he learned of an upcoming appointment with a hypnotherapist to help Maria remember what she’d suppressed that his blood ran cold.

  He couldn’t let that happen, but his go-to man had gone and gotten himself killed. He was getting desperate. Did he take the chance of trusting someone else? What if that went wrong, too? What if the perp was caught and, to save himself, confessed to who had hired him? The more Franklin thought about it, the more certain he was that he was going to have to do the job himself.

  Then reason surfaced. He’d gotten away with murder once. He wasn’t stupid enough to think he could go back in with guns blazing and get so lucky again. Maria wasn’t her mother. She wasn’t living in a seedy part of Tulsa and living a life that, to the general public, didn’t count. She was obviously a reputable woman, and her death would raise a stink. No one would buy it was an accident. Not after she’d come forward as a witness to a murder. But this time there was no dirty cop to hide evidence, and this couldn’t be helped. He had to control the situation, and for that to happen, the witness—the link between himself and Sally Blake—had to disappear.

  He grabbed his Rolodex, desperate for a solution to his problem. As he was flipping through, a name caught his eye. He paused. This would mean shelling out more money, but he had that—though he’d planned on using it as a buffer during the election. However, if this woman really had seen what happened, there wouldn’t be an election to worry about. As he reached for the phone, it occurred to him how convenient it was that he’d spent his life representing the criminal element. This would be a way for them to give back. Then he frowned. The only problem with that theory was that the criminal element didn’t have a conscience, and he was going to have to do some fast talking to make this work.

  Beads of sweat lined Tom Jack Bailey’s upper lip as the blond-haired beauty astraddle him worked her hundred-dollar blow job.

  She was good. But what she was doing felt better. The climax was only seconds away, and Tom Jack was already losing his mind, when his cell phone began to ring.

  He cursed beneath his breath. What the hell had possessed him to download Merle Haggard’s “Okie from Muskogee” as his ring tone? It immediately reminded him of where he’d come from and the father who’d beaten him on a regular basis, before he’d gotten big enough to fight back.

  The cell kept ringing and ringing. He grabbed it and flung it across the room, where it hit the wall before falling to the floor. And kept on ringing.

  “Don’t stop,” he growled, and closed his eyes, struggling to hold on to the feeling.

  But the image evoked by the ring tone was too strong. The last time he’d seen his father, it had been pitch dark near the banks of the Canadian River, and he’d been covering his body with shovelfuls of red Oklahoma dirt.

  He lost his erection and his temper, both at the same time, and slapped the blonde.

  “Get the hell out!” he roared.

  She scrambled for her clothes, dressing as she moved, and was out the door carrying her shoes before she’d buttoned her blouse.

  Furious and frustrated, he stomped across the motel room and grabbed the phone, which had finally gone to voice mail. Some son of a bitch had left a message. It better be good. Then he heard the voice, remembered the man and, out of curiosity, returned the call.

  Franklin was frustrated and pacing, trying to figure out who to call next when his phone rang. Since he was using another throw-away phone and the only person he’d called was Tom Jack, his hopes rose.

  “Franklin Sheets.”

  “So it really was you.”

  Relieved, Franklin sank into a chair behind his desk.

  “Yes, it’s me. I need a favor.”

  Tom Jack grinned. Maybe this was going to be worth the loss of the blow job after all.

  “What kind of favor?”

  “I have a problem I need cleaned up.”

  “Why call me?”

  Franklin’s voice shifted angrily. “Don’t play games, Bailey. We both know what you do, and you’re a free man right now because of what I do. Are you willing or not?”

  Tom Jack frowned. He didn’t like threats, and that had sounded a lot like one.

  “I’m free because the fucking law made a fucking mistake and you caught them at it. I paid good money for your representation.”

  “And I’m willing to pay good money for yours,” Franklin countered.

  Tom Jack smiled. “Well now, if we’re going to talk business, I need details.”

  Franklin proceeded to give them.

  When he hung up later, the
deal was done. But he’d learned something from the first hit man he’d hired. No money was changing hands until the job was done.

  The next day came with more rain. Maria was sound asleep, dreaming about Montana and trying to pull a cow out of a snowdrift, when her cell phone rang. She had it to her ear before she opened her eyes.

  “Hello?” she mumbled.

  “Ahhh, dang it. I woke you, didn’t I?”

  The low whiskey-rough rumble in his voice was a surprisingly charming way to be wakened.

  “It’s okay,” she said, and stretched, groaning softly as her muscles reacted.

  The soft groan in Bodie’s ear sent a shock wave of longing straight through him. He sighed.

  “You sound sexy as hell when you wake up. Wish I was there to see it, too.”

  Maria smiled. The day hadn’t even started, and already he was flirting. She loved it.

  “Dad used to say ‘if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.’”

  He frowned. “So are you saying that will never happen…or that poor people can’t own horses?”

  She laughed out loud.

  Again the sound ripped through Bodie like a knife. He was on the verge of hanging up and heading for her hotel when Dave came into the office and waved to indicate they had to go.

  He nodded an okay, then wound up the call.

  “I just called to say be careful today. I’m only a phone call away if you need me, and also…will you go out to dinner with me tonight?”

  Maria rolled over on her belly and closed her eyes. “Yes. Call me later with details—and you be careful, too.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Bodie said, and hung up with a grin, dropped his cell phone in his pocket and grabbed his service revolver out of his desk drawer as he hurried to catch up with Dave.

  Maria ate breakfast on the go, dodging rain showers as she went from store to store, buying bubble wrap and packing tape, then large boxes in which to ship the things back to the Triple S. She could just imagine Bud’s expression when UPS delivered them to the doorstep. She would have to give him a call and a heads-up before their arrival.