by Becki Willis
“It’s a very beautiful state, as you know. You’re originally from there, aren’t you, sir?” She deftly turned the subject back to him.
“I am,” he said proudly. “We still own two homes there, in fact; one in the mountains, one on the coast. I started my political career in New Hampshire, and my platform was on green energy, back when people thought that meant burning grass.”
“And now you’re in Colorado, where they smoke grass,” Kenzie quipped with a grin.
It took a moment for her joke to soak in, but once he got it, the Senator laughed heartily. Craven sat beside him with amusement dancing in his eyes. The woman, introduced as the Senator’s personal assistant Valerie Nivens, pursed her lips as if she were sucking a lemon.
“So, Miss Reese, tell me about yourself. I understand you are from Texas?”
“Yes sir, I’ve lived in Austin for the past eight years. I attended the University of Texas and never left.”
“And before that?”
“I graduated from high school in Fayetteville, North Carolina.” She tried to summon the sound of pride in her voice, even though there had been little to brag about in her brief stint there. She had attended the public school system there for less than a year. Just long enough to get a diploma and the keys to her future: a scholarship to the far away University of Texas.
“So your family is from North Carolina?” the Senator asked conversationally.
“No, we moved there before my senior year.”
“I’m sure your parents must be very proud of you and your illustrious career. Do they still live in North Carolina?”
“No, they moved away shortly after I graduated.” She knew so because that was their pattern. They never stayed anywhere more than two years.
Out of nowhere, a memory of that time floated through Kenzie’s mind. The day she left home, her mother gave her five thousand dollars to make a fresh start. The deed shocked her. It was the only time she could ever recall her mother doing something nice for her, something totally unselfish. The money was intended for their exodus out of Fayetteville the next month, but she said they could wait a month or two longer to leave, and she had actually given it to her daughter. Even after all these years, Kenzie was still baffled by the act.
Realizing the Senator was speaking again, Kenzie pulled herself from her reverie. She seldom thought about her past and now was not the time for a painful trip down memory lane.
“Did they move closer to you, I hope? It would be a shame not to be near their daughter.”
“They might be a bit closer,” she conceded, thinking they might also be living in Alaska now for all she knew, “but I rarely see my parents.” She looked out the window of the limousine, frowning when she saw huge piles of debris stacked along the roadside. “Oh my, is this from the flood?”
“Yes. Now you see why I am so concerned, Miss Reese. Here it is, almost nine months after the flood, and one of the most scenic roads in Colorado is little more than a trash pile. People travel Highway 34 through Big Thompson Canyon to enjoy the majestic beauty of the canyon walls, the wildlife that is often seen here, and the river itself. They don’t come to see garbage piled along the roadside and houses marked for destruction.” Harry Lawrence practically spat the words, flinging his arms out in exasperation.
“I didn’t realize things were still in such a mess,” Kenzie murmured, reaching for her camera. Even though they were in a moving vehicle, she snapped a few shots of the debris from the window.
“It gets worse. We’ll stop several times along the way, so you can see the worst of it for yourself.”
The Senator was right. It did get worse. Even though bulldozers and heavy equipment lined the riverside as crews completed work to widen and reinforce the riverbanks, there were piles of debris everywhere. The piles, however, did not consist of mere limbs and trees. Kenzie asked the driver to stop so she could take several pictures. Shoved among the piles of timber were the scraps of people’s lives: a refrigerator here, a twisted swing-set there, a couch, a picture frame, a torn and battered bedspread. Kenzie crawled back into the limo with a heavy heart, wondering how people survived such devastation.
“As much as seventeen inches of rain fell in less than a week,” Craven told her. “Eight people were killed, around 2,000 homes were destroyed, another 16,000 or so damaged. You’ll see many of those along the river, marked with a giant ‘X’. They’ll have to be destroyed, but demolition is behind schedule because of all the rain and snow this year. The work to reinforce the river has been stopped repeatedly with fears of more flooding as the snow melts and moves downstream.”
“If I remember, this highway was partially destroyed by the flood,” Kenzie said.
“Absolutely,” the Senator chimed in. “Over 200 miles of highways and some fifty bridges were crippled by the flood.”
“That must have been a horrific storm.”
“You can clearly see why I asked you to come here, Miss Reese. The news media covered the flood in its early days, when emotions were high and ratings matched. But as attention shifted elsewhere, so did coverage. I daresay that no one outside of Colorado understands the conditions these people are still forced to live under while their world is being re-built. Don’t get me wrong, huge improvements have been made. This road was destroyed, completely washed away in places. Over 6,000 people had to be evacuated from the mountain after they were cut off by floodwaters. But such massive re-building of infrastructure and riverbeds and homes does not come cheaply. Colorado needs more federal money, and I intend to provide that for them.”
His intentions almost sounded noble. Had it not been for the practiced campaign resonance that slipped into his voice, Kenzie might have believed his sincerity. She reminded herself that no matter the reason, the needy residents of Colorado would benefit from whatever federal funds he procured.
At the next stop, Kenzie announced she might be awhile. She wanted to crawl down the riverbank, so that she could take more in-depth photos. Senator Lawrence looked irritated, but Craven came to her defense.
“That, Miss Reese, is exactly why the Senator asked for you to accompany him. You can’t get to the heart of the matter while standing on the sidelines.” A subtle but meaningful glance at the Senator was all it took to bring the man around.
“Oh, absolutely, absolutely,” the Senator suddenly insisted.
“I’ll accompany Miss Reese,” Craven said unexpectedly. “It will give you and Valerie an opportunity to go over those briefs before your meeting this afternoon, Senator.”
“Excellent idea. Miss Reese, take your time. I have a good half hour to spare, and plenty of work to be done.”
After crawling out of the limo and choosing what looked to be the best path down the rocky embankment, Kenzie muttered, “Is he for real? Take my time… a whole half hour? It’s going to take almost that long just to crawl down these rocks.”
Craven was right behind her, dressed for the day in jeans and hiking boots. Creases from the dry cleaners spoiled the casual attempt of his button-up plaid shirt. Still, the man was clearly in his element beneath the bright Colorado sunshine. The rugged mountain setting looked even better on him that his business suit.
“He’ll get so wrapped up in his briefs he’ll forget about the time,” he assured her. “Here, take my hand. Go slow and find large, wedged rocks to step on. How far do you want to go?”
“All the way!” she grinned. His return smile was charming.
Once they made it down to the river, Kenzie took a dozen pictures of the crisp clear water as it tumbled over the rocky riverbed. Crews worked nearby. She captured their efforts in some of the shots, carefully worked around them to keep other images pristine. She scrambled along the edge of the water, headed parallel to the houses perched on the far banks of the river.
“It’s such a shame,” she called out to Craven, trying to be heard over the battling sounds of rushing water and heavy equipment. “This time last year, they thought they had the pe
rfect home with the best view in the world. Now look at them.”
One home looked almost intact, despite the large ‘X’ marking it for destruction. It boasted a large wooden pier right off its sliding glass doors, offering an idyllic setting for family gatherings, peaceful musings, and fishing the river. On the side nearest the house, colorful clay pots still made an attractive display, even without their plants. On the side of the deck extending over the river, the boards sagged like the uneven tines of an old metal rake. For every board still in its original position, two were twisted or torn, another two hung with limp abandon, still another was missing entirely. The beams supporting the deck had been washed downstream, another victim of the ravishing flood.
It was the second home that Kenzie was most interested in, for it told the more tragic story. Built to extend several feet over the Big Thompson River, the home’s huge foundational beams were now twisted and broken and, on one corner, were completely gone. The house looked like a tin can partially opened from the bottom. The floor was still there, but half of it was no longer intact. Kenzie zoomed in on the sad result. Through the gaping seam along the bottom of the house, she could see the lower part of a stove, a cabinet, and what appeared to be an overturned kitchen table. The smaller items had fallen through the large crack and been swept away with the raging waters; the larger items were suspended mid-air, caught in a house torn literally to pieces.
After a dozen or more photos, Craven helped Kenzie climb back up the steep incline. She was grateful for the steady hand that tugged on hers, and the support of an offered arm around her waist. She took no offense when, at one point, he literally placed his hands on her bottom and pushed, helping her to scale a more difficult incline. She lost count of the times her ankle twisted, and she knew the swelling was bad when her foot began to lose sensation from lack of circulation. Luckily by that time, they were almost back to the cabins and relief was in sight.
The Senator wasted little time on farewells, in a rush to leave. Kenzie thanked him for the opportunity to photograph such an important topic, and he assured her he would see her again when he sat down for an in-depth interview with Kathryn; he wanted her to take those photos, as well. He had stepped from the limo enough times today for her to snap several shots of him with the canyon walls in the background, documenting the fact that he had been on scene. Surreptitiously, she had taken some of him while seated in the limousine, where he denoted points of reference from the comfort of his air-conditioned automobile. With any luck, those would be the ones that found their way into the magazine’s printed and on-line stories.
Kenzie retreated into her cabin, eager to review the day’s photographs while she rested her leg. In no time, she had showered and changed into her pajamas, even though it was far from bedtime. She planned to skip dinner that night and spend the evening with her leg elevated.
Kenzie transferred her photos to her computer so that she could examine them more closely. Lost in her work, two hours elapsed in what seemed like minutes. When her cell phone rang, the sudden sound startled her, causing her to painfully jerk her leg.
She had to search for her phone. She had dropped it into a bag earlier and had not even checked for messages. Glancing at the screen, she saw she had missed several calls, most of them from Makenna, but one from Travis. Instead of feeling a sense of pleasure, she felt the cold stab of dread; Travis would only call her if there were a problem.
“Hello?” she said, answering Makenna’s latest call.
“Kenzie! Kenzie, where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon! Are you alright?”
“I’m sorry. I left my phone in the car while I was out shooting, and then when I got back to the room I took a shower. I’ve had the stereo on and I guess I couldn’t hear the phone. You know how Travis accuses me of playing my music too loud.” She couldn’t resist the barb, if only to remind herself of their differences. She hesitated a moment before asking tenuously, “Is something wrong?”
“I-I’m not sure,” her sister answered. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Are we talking about my leg, or something else?” Kenzie asked cautiously. She wasn’t volunteering any more information about her injured leg than necessary.
“Why, what have you done to your leg? You’ve hurt it again, haven’t you?” Makenna accused.
“I’m sure it’s just a temporary set-back, nothing to be concerned about. I overdid it a little bit today, but I got some excellent pictures.”
“Put your leg up and put some ice on it.”
“Already done. But if you weren’t talking about my leg, what were you talking about?”
Pulled back on track, the note of panic crept back into her sister’s voice. “I just wanted to make certain everything was alright, that you were fine. Safe.”
“Of course I was safe. I’ve been surrounded all day by a U.S. Senator, three of his tops aides, a fourth guy whose title I’m not sure about, two bodyguards, and two limo drivers. The biggest danger I was in was getting trampled underfoot.” She omitted the part about scaling a steep river embankment when the doctor explicitly said no rock climbing.
“Bodyguards? Why does the Senator need bodyguards?”
“Beats me. We’ve had one the whole time, even before the Senator arrived. Oh, they didn’t say they were bodyguards, but they wear plain dark clothes and stand around silently, never joining the conversation, never sitting with us. Obviously, they are here for one reason only. There’s no reason to be worried about me, I’m fully protected on the taxpayer’s dime.” Disdain dripped from her voice before it gave way to confusion. “Why are you so worried about me? What aren’t you telling me? And why did Travis try to call me today?”
There was a knock on Kenzie’s door. She checked through the blinds on the full-length glass, saw that it was Craven and absently opened the door, waving him inside. “What is going on, Ken?”
“Raymond Foto was killed this morning. He was stabbed in his jail cell.”
Kenzie felt the blood drain from her face. She turned away from Craven, pacing the floor with her palm against her forehead as she divested the news. “What-What happened?”
“We don’t know yet. Hardin is there now, trying to find out something. Foto was in solitary lock-down and under special watch, so it had to be an inside job.” Makenna’s voice wavered as she added, “More than likely the mafia.”
“Is Travis all right?” It was the first thought that came to Kenzie’s mind. The mafia, or more accurately Raymond Foto, acting on behalf of the mafia, had tried to kill the Ranger before. Had they tried again?
“Other than worrying about you, Travis is fine. He was here just a little while ago, so I saw for myself that he and Hardin are both fine. It’s you we’re all worried about.”
“I’m- I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
“I’m just as worried about you.” When Craven made a motion with his hands, silently asking if he should go, Kenzie shook her head. “Look, I need to go right now. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I’ll be home by Friday and everything will be good.”
“If you’re sure…”
“I am. Gotta go. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Sis.”
Kenzie pressed the end button and tossed her phone onto the couch with a sigh. She glanced at Craven just in time to see his frown.
“Troubles with your boyfriend?” he asked, his eyes a bit guarded.
“Boyfriend?” Kenzie frowned before bursting out with laughter. “No, that was my sister, Makenna.”
He absorbed that for a moment before asking, “So, the next obvious question is, do you have a boyfriend?” His pleasant voice took on a new layer of warmth.
Visions of a tall, rawboned lawman came to mind; sharp, impossibly wide shoulders and ridiculously long legs; neatly trimmed blond hair and eyes that were a surprising brown; a mouth that was wide and full, and capable of turning her insides to liquid heat.
“No.”
She practically choked out the sadly uttered word.
Craven was gracious enough to let a moment of silence settle between them. He even tried to hide the pleasure written across his handsome face, even though Kenzie noticed it before he cleared his throat and seemed to change the subject. “Did I overhear you say you aren’t going home until Friday? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but …”
“No, no, that’s fine.” Kenzie waved away his apology, thankful to have his attention elsewhere. “I’m covering a concert on Thursday, sort of killing two birds with one stone.”
“Here in Colorado?”
“Yes.” She sat down on the couch and placed her leg up on the coffee table. “Excuse my bad manners. My leg’s awfully swollen after today.” She put the makeshift icepack back on it and settled back among the couch cushions. “Have a seat.”
He remained standing, saying, “I was coming to see if you’d like to go to dinner.”
“I think I’ll pass tonight. Y’all go on without me.”
“But what will you eat?” He took a seat beside Kenzie, his forehead creased in concern.
Kenzie laughed, slapping at her thighs. “Believe me, it wouldn’t hurt me to skip a meal or two or ten. I’ll just eat the fruit and crackers and cheese from my gift basket. I’ll be fine, honestly. Y’all go on without me.”
“Actually,” he said, sounding almost nervous, “it’s just me.”
“What happened to Franks?”
“He went back with the Senator.”
“But you didn’t go with them?”
He shook his head with slow deliberation, setting Kenzie’s nerves on edge. “I wanted to see you off at the airport tomorrow. I assumed you were leaving in the morning.”
“That-That wasn’t necessary.”
“I know.” He took a deep breath before reaching out to cover her hand with his. “Kenzie, our interview is over now. I came here to ask you to go to dinner alone with me tonight. On a date.”
Kenzie drew in a sharp breath. His invitation should not surprise her, yet it did. “I-” she hesitated, looking down at her leg, which truly was aching. “I’m sorry, my leg simply hurts too much,” she said in all sincerity.
