by Paty Jager
Her eyes widened, and she stared at him. “Juan is part of a drug cartel?” She frowned. “He seemed so…”
“Whipped?”
“Yeah, like he couldn’t make a decision without someone telling him what to do.” She placed a bite of meat in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Why did he give Naomi a key if he was helping Paula hide drugs in the gallery?”
That’s what he liked about Shandra. Her mind was always thinking. “When Naomi threatened him with INS he had to go along or someone might get suspicious.”
“Did he kill Paula?” Shandra shuddered.
“No, I don’t think Juan did. As you said he doesn’t appear to think for himself. The other three appeared to be surprised to learn Paula was killed. Those three could have easily done the deed. She apparently had been working her way up the cartel to where even the drug lord was giving her high praises.”
Shandra put down her eating utensils and picked up her wine and took a sip. “Then we’re back to the beginning. Who would want Paula dead?”
“Why don’t we call it quits on trying to solve the murder for tonight?” He tipped up his beer and took a good swallow. When he put the bottle down, she was smiling.
“I think that’s a good idea. So tell me more about these siblings you have.”
Ryan spent the remainder of the meal talking about growing up in a family of four children in a rural area which made them constant companions during their youth.
Shandra saw that even though Ryan called his siblings butt-in-skis and trouble makers, he had a special bond with each of them. Even the brother marrying his ex-girlfriend. There had been many times over the years she’d wished for siblings. But her mother and stepfather had found it trying enough to raise her.
She stood and gathered up the dishes.
“Let me help.” Ryan stood and stacked dishes.
“Thank you.” She carried her share into the kitchen and he followed.
“What were you thinking about out there? You looked a million miles away.” He stood beside her as they both placed the dirty dishes in the sink.
“Life. Just life.” She gave him her best forced smile and he frowned.
“What about your life don’t you like?” He leaned a hip against the counter only inches from her.
“The loneliness. It seems like I’ve been alone my whole life.” Whoa that popped out unexpected.
“Is that why you’re like a fierce mama bear when you defend Naomi?”
“I guess. Could be. I never thought about it before.” She glanced up to see if he felt pity for her. Instead she saw a sadness that wasn’t a thing like pity. “I never voiced my loneliness out loud before.”
He cupped her chin. Slivers of heat prickled her skin where he touched.
“Are you sure you don’t crave the solitude? You did pick an isolated area and ranch to live.”
“I do crave solitude, but there are days when I wish I had someone to give me a hug or tell me my latest creation was beautiful or needed something.” She stared into his eyes. “Those are different than solitude.”
He drew her into an embrace, leaning her against his broad chest. “Any time you want a hug all you have to do is ask.”
They stood together, arms around one another, his head resting on hers. Shandra let her body melt against his strength and savor the warmth and woodsy scent of him.
The clatter of dishes on the patio broke them apart. Ryan exited before her. Raccoons scattered to the trees as Sheba raised her head from her spot in the shade of the house.
“It appears the raccoons enjoyed your dinner as much as we did.” Ryan stacked the remaining, now empty dishes. He nodded toward Sheba. “She’s not much of a watch dog.”
Shandra laughed. “Sheba picks her battles and the raccoons have outfoxed her enough she just ignores them.”
When the dishes were finished Shandra led Ryan out to the porch swing. They sat side by side their shoulders and thighs touching as he talked about life in Chicago, and she told stories of her escapades growing up on the ranch in Montana. The vermilion sky slowly faded to dark blue and twinkling stars popped out.
Ryan put an arm around her shoulders. Shandra leaned her head on his shoulder. It had been a long time since she’d had this peaceful of an evening. Even longer since she’d shared it with anyone other than Sheba.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?” His hand massaged her shoulder.
“For believing me that first day. For not thinking I’m crazy to explore my dreams.” She shifted to peer into his eyes. “I’m still not convinced they mean anything, but I have to follow Ella’s directions to see if they are. In my heart, I feel the connection to her and her people, but in my head…I’m still battling the prejudice of my mother and stepfather.”
His eyes flared when she talked of her doubts.
“I’m happy that your heart is telling you to believe. I’ve found that most times your gut and your heart know more than your head.” He lowered his lips to hers.
The kiss was soft, gentle, and set her heart pounding like the ceremonial drums.
Ryan drew away from her and slowly lifted his arm. “I had a wonderful time. You’re a great cook, and I enjoyed the company more than I have anyone in a long time.” He stood and drew her to her feet. “Promise if you have any dreams or notice anything strange you’ll call me.”
“You are the only person I can call. Anyone else would think I’m crazy if I told them about my dreams.”
He cupped her chin and kissed her one more time, slow and thorough. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Shandra nodded slightly as she savored the way his touch and kisses made her body content. “I’ll be here working.”
He faded into the darkness as he rounded the house. Sheba rose to her feet and followed.
Shandra sat back down in the swing and smiled. She might have finally found a man who embraced her heritage rather than treated it like a disease.
Chapter Twenty-six
Shandra walked along a stream, her thoughts filled with the things in her life that make her happy: Sheba, her art, the mountain, Ryan, and horses. As she thinks of each one, they appear before her. She touches each, noting the things about them that she loves. She slides her hands up Ryan’s bare chest and sighs. The horses paw and snort as if to tell her not to go on. But the need to see more drives her forward.
Paula stands at the edge of a cliff, dangling Joyce into the emptiness by her hair. Shandra’s heart pounds with fear. She tries to hurry forward, but Paula releases Joyce and she drops. Paula cackles and two men appear. One has the spear from the statue sticking out of his back pocket. The two men talk and point at Paula who stares down into the canyon where she dropped Joyce.
Shandra hides behind a tree, trying to get a good look at the two men, but their faces remain a blur. One leaves and the other, with the spear in his pocket, approaches Paula. They embrace, disrobe, and have sex. Shandra turns her head from the scene. Not comfortable with intimacy, she wants to flee, but Ella is sitting on her shoulder, whispering, “Don’t leave, your answer will come.”
The intimate sounds die away, and she turns back around. Paula is alone and motionless. Twigs are scattered around her body and the spear is protruding from her chest.
Shandra’s heart raced, and she gasped for air as if she’d climbed the mountain. “What are you telling me this time, Ella?” Before the details faded, she grabbed up a journal and pen and started writing down the dream.
“If only I had seen the faces on the men.”
Sheba climbed up on the bed and lay down beside her. Her caring, brown stare was what Shandra needed right now. A hug from a certain detective would have been nice too. Her mind wandered to the kisses they shared and how nice his arms had felt when he held her.
“Should I call Ryan now?” She glanced at the clock. Two. No, this wasn’t anything that couldn’t keep. After all, she didn’t have a clue who the men were. This could wait until daylight hours. She’d
work in the morning and go to town for lunch and see if Ryan could join her, and then she’d tell him about the latest dream. It had to be a clue.
~*~
Shandra finished glazing the last batch of vases. She and Lil placed them in the kiln.
“You’re a lot brighter today than I’ve seen you in a while,” Lil said, closing the kiln lid. “Wouldn’t happen to be your dinner guest putting that glow in your cheeks?”
“Could be. Or it could be I’m learning to accept who I am.” Shandra set the heat on the kiln.
“It appears to me that your gentleman friend is good for you spiritually and physically.” Lil scooped up Lewis and headed to the door.
“What do you mean?” Shandra had woke this morning feeling more light-hearted and carefree than she had since adulthood gave her the chance to strike out on her own.
“I’ve just seen good changes in you since meeting this man.” Lil slipped out the door with Lewis around her neck like an orange fur collar.
“Am I this happy and content because of Ryan?” she asked Sheba and stared at the dog. “Maybe. If his friendship can keep me walking on clouds and loving life, then I need to make an effort to stay in contact after he finds the murderer.”
She stepped out of the studio with Sheba on her heels. Her cell phone was in her hand before she consciously decided to give Ryan a call.
~*~
Ryan scrolled through the information Cathleen sent him on Sidney Doring’s financials and the divorce papers. It appeared Paula felt entitled to nearly everything Sidney owned. The only thing she was leaving him with was his shares of the lodge. “That would make a man want to find a solution.”
“What would?”
He looked over his shoulder and wasn’t pleased to find Baylor studying the monitor. Ryan hit a button and made the information go away. “Paula was after everything in the divorce.”
“Sounds about right.” Baylor pulled up a chair. “Thought you might like to know we found the two art pieces that had drugs stashed in them. The shipping addresses were still intact and I have a team headed to each of the places to see what they can find out.”
“But that doesn’t tell you where they were being shipped to and if that is what got Paula killed.”
“True, but Juan is willing to roll on the cartel if we give him a new identity and a safe place to live.” Baylor slapped him on the back. “I have a way of swaying people to see they would be better off by narcing.”
A bell clanged in Ryan’s head. “Did you have anything to do with Dale Young getting a light sentence?”
Baylor’s good humor lessened. “Dale who?”
Ryan’s adrenaline rushed. The agent was stalling. “The drug pusher who was Joyce Carter’s boyfriend. When I read the report I couldn’t believe he was given such a light sentence.”
The agent’s face wasn’t as stony as his steadfast gaze.
“He might have made a deal. I was working a different angle.” The man’s face gradually lightened until he no longer sported a tan.
“What angle were you working? The one that helped Paula nab a rich man for a husband?” He had the agent off balance. That was a good time to launch an assault. “Did Paula and Joyce know one another back then?”
“No, Paula had pulled herself out of the gutter before Joyce came along.”
“Then why would Joyce say she couldn’t run from her past?” He narrowed his eyes at the agent. “She couldn’t have just meant Paula’s vicious comments or the photos that showed Joyce was high when they were taken.”
Baylor blanched again. Did he have something to do with the photos?
“Have you seen the photos Paula was using to shame Joyce?”
He ducked his head. “We raided Young’s place on a night he was ‘filming’.” He shook his head. “Those photos were the evidence Joyce needed to get out of the guy’s clutches. I saved a couple to give her, but they came up missing before I discovered where she’d hidden.”
Ryan glared at the man. “I find it suspicious that they ended up in the hands of the woman you were supposedly using as an informant. What did she have on you that would make you hand over the photos?” He stared at the man in front of him. “Better yet, don’t tell me and get the hell out of my sight. I’ve never been a fan of law enforcement people who make their own rules.”
Baylor stood, but he had a lethal expression leveled on Ryan. “One of these days you’re going to choose your righteousness over staying alive or keeping someone you love alive. See what you do then.”
The man stormed out before Ryan could tell him he’d already walked the fence between good and evil and came out scarred but could sleep nights.
His phone rang. “Greer.”
“It’s Shandra. Any chance I can persuade you to join me for lunch at Ruthie’s?”
He smiled just hearing her low sultry voice. This woman was special, and he planned to take things good and slow to not scare her off. Besides her having problems acknowledging her heritage, she had other demons she was working on.
“I could be persuaded if you could meet me at the lodge. I have some more questions for Mr. Doring.”
“I had a dream last night. But some of the people in it were unclear. One had the spearhead in his back pocket.” Shandra’s tone expressed she was starting to believe in her dreams. Or at least the symbolism.
“Meet me at the lodge at twelve thirty.”
“I’ll be there.”
Ryan punched the off button and opened the screen back up on the computer. He would need all the dirt he could dig up on Doring when he went back to question the man.
~*~
Shandra changed out of her work clothes and into something a little more flattering. It was a couple hours until she was to meet Ryan, but she had some other errands to run before lunch. Sheba stood beside the Jeep as she exited the house. The sad eyes and tilt to the animal’s head zinged straight to Shandra’s heart.
“You can go. Just don’t slobber on my head.” She opened the back door, and Sheba bounded into the back seat, talking excitedly.
Shandra laughed, rolled down the window, and closed the door. She slid in behind the steering wheel and patted the big head that popped between the front seats. “Keep the drool out the window.”
In town, Shandra ran her two quick errands and drove to Dimensions. She’d received an email from a person she didn’t know who said they’d dealt with Ted and Naomi before. She wanted to make sure it was a legitimate gallery asking to put her work on consignment.
She parked in the alley next to Naomi’s car. Hooking the leash on Sheba, she peered across the street to the alley behind Doring Gallery. There were vans loading up boxes and crates. “Are they taking all the art pieces?” She had one vase in there. She’d rather have it in another shop than sitting in some evidence locker.
“Come.” Shandra led Sheba across the road and into the alley. A woman in a dark pant suit spotted her. She walked toward them with a stern set to her mouth. When Shandra didn’t stop, the woman put a hand up, palm facing Shandra.
“Stop. This is a federal investigation.”
“I’m just going to the donut shop,” Shandra said innocently.
“You’ll have to go around. This alley is off limits to civilians.”
Shandra craned her neck. “Are you loading up all the artwork?”
“No, just the items in the back room. Now move along.”
Shandra pivoted and clicked her tongue to Sheba, who was still staring at the woman. Good news. They weren’t taking all the artwork. Hopefully she’d get a call soon saying she could come pick up her vase. “But who is going to call?” Paula was dead. Juan was in jail, and Sidney didn’t have anything to do with the gallery. Or would he now that his wife was dead. “Wouldn’t he be the beneficiary?”
“What are you talking about?”
Shandra looked up. Ted stood at the sidewalk.
Sheba tugged on the leash to get a pat on the head from Ted.
�
�I was wondering out loud about who would call and ask me to pick up my vase. Would Sidney, now that he’s the beneficiary after Paula’s death?”
Ted shrugged. “I don’t know, but those people have been hauling stuff out of there since yesterday. I can’t believe there was that much stuff in there.” He led the way to the back door of his gallery.
Shandra entered and tied Sheba to the leg of the work table. It was cooler in here than waiting for her in the Jeep. At the lodge, she could instruct the valet to park the Jeep in the shade with the windows part way down.
She followed Ted into the gallery. Naomi was working on the computer.
“We have—” Ted said.
“Oh! You startled me!” Naomi clicked off the keyboard before turning her attention to them.
“I stopped by to ask if either of you have heard of this gallery in Jackson Hole.” Shandra handed the slip with the name of the gallery and the owner to Naomi.
She handed it to Ted. “I think you talked to her about a year ago. She called asking about an artist who had given our name as a reference.”
Ted shook his head. “This isn’t ringing any bells. Pull the gallery up on the computer.” He reached around Naomi and hit a button.
“No!” Naomi swat his hands away.
But not before the last information flashed on the screen.
“Why are you looking into court records for Washington State?” Ted asked.
“Hearing the rumors about Paula being connected to drugs made me think maybe she had a connection with Dale Young, Joyce’s boyfriend.” Naomi’s shoulders slumped. “I knew his sentence was light for what he’d been convicted of. When I asked on some free legal sites they say he probably turned evidence and that’s why he had a light sentence.”
Ted put his hands on Naomi’s shoulders and massaged. “But he was still in jail when Joyce was killed. He couldn’t have done it.”
“No, but he could have had someone else do it for him. Someone he knew before Joyce.” Naomi glared at her husband. “I know you keep telling me to let this be, but I can’t. Joyce would not have overdosed. She was proud of getting clean and working toward a better life.” She grabbed Shandra’s hands. “I want whoever took my sister’s life to pay. Even if I spend my whole life trying to discover the truth.”
