"Susanna. Start talking or I tie you up and we wait for Jack to get here."
"Yeah, right." Her green eyes fixed on him. "Like it's me you'd like to tie up."
So, she knew. Sam kept his face expressionless.
She peeled off the bandanna and wiped her forehead with it, sighing heavily. "I'd love to babble my way out of this mess, but I can't. Sam—Kara stopped by the house this morning at six, not five minutes after Jack left for work. She must have been around the corner waiting for him to leave."
"Was she alone?"
"She came into the house alone. I didn't think to check her car. She looked terrible. I know she's working too hard, and she's still upset about Governor Pa-risi's death—and now these runaway kids…"
"Just tell me what happened, Susanna," Sam said, his tone neutral. "We can deal with the emotions later."
She eased away from the door, steadier but by no means calmer. She was an intelligent woman who'd earned an MBA part-time when the twins were little and through skill and luck turned several choice investments into a multi-million-dollar fortune. She'd kept the money a secret from her husband, although he knew about it, anyway, but she thought it'd destroy their marriage—and it nearly had. Not the money, the fear of it. She came to see that the hard way. Nothing important had changed in her and Jack's lives, at least not because of money.
Sam had seen how much Jack loved his wife six months ago in the killer cold of an Adirondack winter, and before that, during the Galways' long months of separation, forced apart because of their unspoken fears—and an unsolved Texas murder. Now that she'd returned to San Antonio for good, Sam saw how much Susanna loved her husband, too, and he'd come to realize he wasn't capable of that kind of love himself.
There were reasons. He supposed Gordon Temple was one of them.
As much as Sam liked and admired Susanna Galway, he knew she didn't think the way he did. They'd been arguing with each other ever since he'd become a Texas Ranger five years ago. Her love for her family was the only thing she saw in black and white. He was just the opposite. He saw everything in black and white—ex-cept for his love for his family.
"She was pale and sick to her stomach," Susanna went on. "She wouldn't let me give her anything. She got a bottle of San Pelligrino from the fridge and said she had a lot on her mind and couldn't sleep, so she got in her car and just started driving."
"And happened to end up at your house?"
"That's what she said."
Five minutes after her brother had left for work.
"Maggie and Ellen were still in bed." Susanna hooked her bandanna on the back of a tall stool at a drafting table. "Kara and I chatted for a few minutes, then she took off."
"You must have headed up here not long after that. It's not a planned trip, is it?"
Susanna shook her head, splaying her fingers in front of her and staring at them, obviously not wanting to tell him what came next. Sam didn't prod her. She hadn't driven here to tell him her sister-in-law had stopped by for San Pelligrino. "Sam, I—" She opened and closed her fingers, as if trying to keep them from stiffening up on her. "I was worried. So I drove up here to check on her. I stopped by her house, but she wasn't there. I tried her cell phone—I just got her voice mail."
"I did the same."
She nodded absently and sat on the stool, the drafting table in front of a window that overlooked a small yard filled with sunflowers. "On my way to Austin, the airport where Jack keeps his plane called me on my cell phone."
That was one of their indulgences now that they had money—a small plane that could make the trip north to Susanna's grandmother in Boston and their cabin on Blackwater Lake in the Adirondacks. She and Jack were both pilots, but by mutual agreement, this was his plane.
When she drifted into silence, Sam decided she needed a little prodding after all. "The longer you wait, the more likely Jack's going to walk in here—"
"The guy at the airport had a routine question and mentioned that Kara had gotten off the ground safely. He said she was a good pilot."
Sam could suddenly feel the heat, the closeness of the small workroom. "Susanna—Jesus Christ. Kara took off in Jack's plane? Without his permission, I presume?"
"Of course without his permission. It's not a problem with the airport—she's cleared to fly the plane as far as they're concerned. It's a problem with Jack. I called Maggie and Ellen and had them check my keys. Kara must have swiped the key to the plane while I was pouring the San Pelligrino. Borrowed," Susanna amended. "She borrowed the key."
"That's not borrowing. That's stealing."
"It depends on how you look at it. Jack's her brother."
"He'll see it my way."
Susanna sighed and nodded, and she grabbed her bandanna and put it back in her hair. Her sister-in-law was out of control, and Susanna had at least to sense it. But she leaned back on the stool and folded her arms on her chest, tilting her head back and eyeing Sam as if he were a teenager who'd missed curfew. "Am I going to have to play hardball with you, Sam?"
"You haven't told me what you want me to do."
"Find her."
He didn't react.
"I'm not worried about her flying the plane. She's taken it up several times. Her father made her take flying lessons in high school, just as he did Jack. He thought it'd be good therapy after their mother died. He was always after them to push themselves, take on more. Harvard, Yale, law school, the Texas Rangers. He didn't want them succumbing to their grief. He thought of it that way, too. Succumbing." She raised her eyes to Sam, softening just a little. "But you know all this already."
Sam chose to say nothing.
"Come on, Sam. For God's sake. I know. Okay, don't admit it. Don't tell me you're at least half in love with her and have been since long before the Gordon Temple opening—I don't care. Just find her and bring her home."
He felt the burn down deep, the tight coil of emotions he didn't dare let loose. "Do you have any idea where she went?"
Susanna smirked at him, shaking her head. "You really aren't going to admit anything, are you? I talked to my mother about you two. She said she could feel the sparks. Last night—Sam, the chemistry between you and Kara is hard to miss. Jack didn't notice only because it'd take a bolt of lightning, especially with his sister. He can't imagine anyone wanting to sleep with her."
"Christ, Susanna."
She slid to her feet, graceful, determined. "She filed a flight plan for the airport we use outside Boston. She could change it en route, but it's a good bet that's where she's headed."
"The Stockwells are from Connecticut."
"I know. It'd be logical for Kara to land in Hartford, but she's flown into Boston with Jack and me. She knows the airport we use there. She sometimes spent the holidays with my grandmother, when we couldn't get up there and Kara couldn't come home. Gran's never been big on traveling."
Iris Dunning was a fixture in her working-class neighborhood near Boston and one of the more amazing old ladies Sam knew. But like her granddaughter, Iris was also a stubborn woman of many secrets. "Iris would hide the kids under her bed and lie through her teeth about it if Kara asked her to."
"Especially if she thought they were in any kind of danger," Susanna added.
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Sam said quietly.
Susanna nodded, but worry was etched in her angular face, bringing out the fine lines at the corners of her eyes. "No one at the airport will think twice if Kara parks the plane there for a few days, and Henry and Lillian are much less likely to be recognized in eastern Massachusetts."
Sam could feel his chest compressing, the reality of what she was asking sinking in. "You want me to fly to Boston."
"I've got you booked on a flight out of Austin this afternoon. By my calculations, with a stop for refueling, Kara should arrive in Boston by midafternoon. She'll have a pretty good head start on you." Susanna stood in front of him, close. At almost forty, she was attractive, confident and not a woman who liked to
be thwarted once she'd made up her mind. "Something's not right, Sam. I don't want her hurt, and I don't want her doing something stupid because she's not in her right mind."
Long before Sam had fallen into bed with Kara Galway, her brother had said she was always getting herself bloodied as a kid defending the kids who were picked on, marginalized, troubled, not believed. She'd turned her zeal for fighting for the underdog into fighting for her clients, understanding the legitimate role of a defense lawyer, the presumption of innocence, the burden of proof, how all of it worked together to preserve a system of justice.
Or so Jack had explained it. He didn't necessarily believe it, though. "I think my sister's just a soft touch," he'd once said with an affectionate smile.
Sam's head was spinning with fatigue, his eyes burning, aching. He needed a shave, a shower, clean clothes. He needed rest. "I haven't packed—"
"I've got a suitcase for you in my car. Jack has the key to your apartment, remember? I took the liberty of packing a few things for you." She smiled, a little nervously, he thought. "I also threw out the chicken you left to thaw on your kitchen counter a million years ago. Jesus, Sam, what a smell."
Something about her story wasn't adding up, and he wondered if she'd spotted the hole in it herself and was trying to distract him. He was too damn tired to think.
Susanna started shoving him back out the door, chattering again about flight plans and refueling and his flight north. She threw numbers at him. A defense mechanism. She didn't want him thinking.
"Why don't you ask Jack to go after Kara?" Sam asked.
"Because he'd just call the Boston police and have her arrested the minute she lands."
It seemed like a good idea to Sam. He might yet do it himself.
They reached the main showroom, where the air was cool and the walls dancing with the bright signature colors of Gordon Temple's work. Susanna smiled coolly, any nervousness gone. "Besides, I don't expect you want Kara explaining to her brother why she's not thinking straight."
"Think you have me by the short hairs, don't you, Mrs. Galway?"
"I know I do."
"If she does have those kids—"
"Then thank God, because then we know they're safe." Susanna touched his arm, all the coolness going out of her. Her eyes were warm, and she seemed near tears. "Sam, I know you have responsibilities as a Ranger, but this is a personal favor."
"No kidding," he said dryly.
"Kara, the kids—losing Mike Parisi was hard on them. You'll go to Boston, won't you?"
"You knew I would when you dialed my number." He was putting his career on the line—everything. "So, Mrs. Galway, you're so smart. What the hell do I tell your husband?"
She smiled, her spirits renewed. "Leave that to me."
Sam found Eva Dunning out back in the sunflowers. She had on a floppy, wide-brimmed cloth hat, not much help against the hot Texas sun, and a shapeless denim jumper and sport sandals, which she somehow managed to wear with a creative flare. Her dark hair hung down her back in a long, graying braid. She was shorter than her daughter, graceful more in manner than build, and she didn't have Susanna's green eyes. Those were pure Dunning. Eva exuded genuine caring and openness, and she was a talented artist, a quilter, a woman of many talents and hobbies. She was no art snob. Her husband was an artist, too, both of them nomads who'd lit in Austin for a time.
Their Hyde Park gallery and their house weren't far from Kara's bungalow.
"I'd forgotten how hot it can get down here in the summer," Eva said. "Whew. I'm bushed. Is Susanna still inside?"
Sam nodded. "Jack's on his way here."
"Is he?"
Kevin and Eva Dunning weren't elitists, but they'd probably never get used to having a Texas Ranger for a son-in-law. Sam didn't have Jack's experience with dealing with them—or his patience. No question in his mind that Eva Dunning was up to her eyeballs in whatever Kara had going on. "Have you seen Kara recently?" he asked.
"How recently?"
"Last night."
Eva snipped off a small, dark sunflower and added it to the bouquet she'd collected in a bucket of water. "Why do you ask? Is something wrong?"
"Possibly. I hope not. Did she come here last night by any chance?"
"No."
Sam realized he had to be very precise with her and give her no wiggle room whatsoever. "To your house?"
"Sergeant Temple, is this an official interrogation?" Color rose in her cheeks, but he knew if he pointed it out to her, she'd only blame the heat. "Should I have my attorney with me?"
Bingo, he thought. Kara had slipped over to the Dunnings' place to avoid him, probably got some rest, then headed south to San Antonio.
Sam took no pleasure in Eva's obvious discomfort. His personal and professional lives had collided the minute he'd walked out of the Dunning Gallery two weeks ago with Kara Galway, and now he was paying for it.
"Let me tell you what I think." He fingered a bright yellow sunflower, then looked back at the older woman. "I think Kara showed up at your house late last night and said I might stop by and ask questions. She wanted you to stonewall me, told you it wasn't anything that'd get you in trouble. You trusted her because she's an attorney, because she's Jack's sister and because she was desperate."
"Sam—"
He held up a hand, stopping her. "Ma'am, I'm not accusing you or anyone else of committing a crime. I'm just trying to find out a few things before I put my head any deeper into the lion's mouth."
Eva Dunning stood up from her bucket of sunflowers, the hot sun washing out her eyes. "How deep has Kara put in her head?"
"She's up to her ass, Mrs. Dunning."
Eva nodded, a little pale. "I thought so."
"Did she have anyone with her?"
"She wouldn't say. She never came into the house— she asked to borrow my car."
"Did she say why?"
"Hers had something wrong with it, I don't know what."
It had nothing wrong with it. She didn't want the police spotting it if Sam put out an APB on her.
"I gave her my keys, and she said she wanted to get a little sleep before she headed out. I urged her to come in and use one of the bedrooms upstairs. We have loads of room. She refused."
"She slept in your car?"
"Yes. She left about four o'clock this morning. I was going to go out and check on her—Sam, I've known Kara since she was a kid. She's always been very purposeful, devoted to her sense of right and wrong. She can be irritatingly uncompromising." Eva took a breath, droplets of sweat forming on her upper lip. "But if she's in trouble, I will be there for her. I think you should know that."
He took her statement for what it was—a threat. He'd have the whole damn Dunning and Galway clan down his throat if they decided he'd screwed up Kara's life, which was why he'd warned himself off her in the first place. He'd wanted her for months, but she was forbidden territory—Jack Galway's little sister.
Sam could taste her even now, feel her body under his and hear her soft moans as she reached her climax, pulling him deeper into her, any discomfort she'd felt early in their lovemaking gone.
He'd definitely gone too fast with her. Way too damn fast. She hadn't been in her right mind that night. He should have seen it more clearly.
But he hadn't been in his right mind, either.
"Thanks for your time, ma'am," he told Eva Dunning. "I'm sure this will all turn out fine."
He got the suitcase Susanna had packed for him out of the back of her car and tossed it in his front seat, every fiber of him screaming for rest, sleep, at least a quiet place in the shade to think. What was it about Susanna's story that didn't add up? What was it that was still eating at him?
If he just dawdled, he could run into Jack, take his thrashing, then they could work this problem together. But instead he climbed into his car, and when he reached the end of the street, he turned and drove in the opposite direction Jack would take to get to the gallery.
Halfway out to the a
irport, his brain clicked into gear with such an abrupt force he nearly ran off the damn road. He pulled over, dialing Susanna's cell phone number while he pushed down his annoyance with her and her labyrinthine ways.
She answered on the third ring. Probably knew it was him and had debated answering at all.
"You were on your way to Austin when the airport called you," he said. "Why did you have my suitcase already packed? Why were you coming here if you didn't already know about the plane?"
"Sam, Jack's in the driveway—"
"Then answer me quick or I'm turning around and heading back there."
"All right, all right. I lied. I called the airport myself."
"When?"
"On the road to Austin, after I packed your suitcase. I was double-checking. I already knew she had the key to the plane."
"Did you give it to her?"
"No. She'd never put me in that position. I guessed after she left."
Sam was silent. She knew what answers he wanted.
"Are you driving?" she asked quietly. "You might want to pull over."
"Susanna, you have two seconds. Then I'm hanging up and driving over there and letting Jack deal with his damn family. Last time I tried to protect a Galway, I ended up getting shot."
"Kara broke into Jack's gun cabinet," Susanna blurted. "She told me she was going to the bathroom. I only thought about the plane after I saw she had one of his guns."
"Jesus Christ."
"She didn't break in, exactly. She has a key. She must have had it with her. She has copies of all our keys, except the one to the plane."
"What did she take?"
"A .45 automatic pistol. His Colt, I think."
Jack carried a department-issue .357 SIG-Sauer on duty. Sam felt his pulse throbbing behind his eyes. How had he gotten so far down this road? "Does Kara know how to use it?"
"She took shooting lessons in high school, probably on days she wasn't taking flying lessons and plotting how to get into Yale. Her father—"
Sam knew all about her father, a man who worked two jobs and tried to give his motherless children every advantage in life. "She has to have a permit to carry a pistol where she's going. She can't just waltz into another state with a weapon and expect—" He broke off, because Susanna already understood the ramifications of what her sister-in-law had done or she wouldn't have lied in the first place. "Hell, she doesn't have a permit for it here. She stole the damn thing. She deserves to get herself arrested."
Stonebrook Cottage Page 8
