And if Scorpio was still alive, the ending had yet to be written.
Chapter Eight
Anna told herself that night she wouldn’t read any more of Ben’s book. Not until she was back home in Houston, safe and sound in her sunny apartment with mellow music playing in the background and Laurel humming in the next room. Deadly Seduction was definitely not a book to be read alone in the middle of the night.
But as the minutes ticked away and she still couldn’t get to sleep, she found herself reaching for the book again, and this time, she didn’t put it down until just before dawn when exhaustion finally claimed her.
Surprisingly, she didn’t dream about the book or have nightmares about Scorpio. If she dreamed at all, the visions were peaceful enough that they didn’t wake her. When she finally opened her eyes, sunlight drifted in through the gauzy curtains at the French doors, and Anna squinted at the clock on the nightstand. It was almost nine o’clock.
She groaned and fell back against the pillows. She never slept this late, even when she’d been in her weakest condition. Her internal alarm clock always awakened her at seven o’clock sharp, still with a sense of urgency that prompted her not to linger in bed, but to get up, get showered and dressed, and get on with what had to be done.
Before she’d taken ill, Anna had prided herself on never having missed a day of work. She was always at her desk by eight, prepared for court or mediation by nine, and then after lunch would gear up for an afternoon of meetings which often ran through the dinner hour. Afterward, she would put in another few hours cleaning up paperwork so that her desk would be cleared for the start of the next day.
Often she wouldn’t get home until after midnight, but she’d never complained because she knew no other way of life. She’d been driven to succeed from the time her mother died, and if Anna’s heart hadn’t failed her, she would have continued on in the same vein, pushing harder and harder until…
Until what? Until she’d awakened one day to find that she’d grown old all alone, that there was no one in her life who cared if she lived or died?
In a way, her heart condition had been a blessing because it made Anna realize, before it was too late, that a successful career didn’t necessarily translate into a successful life. Having people that you could count on, that would always stand by you no matter what, was worth more than all the material success in the world. Laurel had taught her that.
Her life, and her outlook on life, had changed so much in the past year that Anna sometimes hardly recognized it as her own.
Rolling out of bed, she stumbled to the shower, and thirty minutes later, dressed in jeans and a white sleeveless top, she headed downstairs to check out.
Margarete was nowhere in sight so Anna stepped up to the counter and rang the bell. After a few moments, a young woman in her late-twenties came through the arched opening behind the registration desk. She had long, dark hair, velvety brown eyes and a gorgeous body seductively displayed in white shorts and a sleeveless shirt tied underneath her full breasts.
Anna knew instantly who she was. Margarete’s daughter, Acacia. The one who gave piano lessons. The one who claimed to be descended from the Mayans who’d built Chichén Itzá. The one who might or might not be having an affair with Ben.
Acacia Cortina gave Anna a quick once-over, then obviously concluding she constituted little or no threat, smiled warmly. “May I help you?”
Anna set her bag on the floor. “I’m checking out of Room 209.”
“I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay,” the woman said as she rifled through a file box underneath the counter. “You said 209, right? I can’t seem to find…oh, here it is.” She withdrew a registration slip and glanced up with a slight frown. “Anna Sebastian?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Acacia slid the credit card slip across the desk. “If you’ll just sign the receipt, you’ll be all set to go.”
“Thanks.” Anna scribbled her name on the form, aware all the while that Acacia Cortina’s gaze was still on her. Anna knew why she was curious about Acacia, but she had no idea why the other woman suddenly found her so interesting.
“If you’ll wait here, I’ll have Amador bring your car around to the front.”
“No, don’t bother. I’ll find it.”
“In that case, have a safe trip back to Houston.”
Anna was halfway out the door before she stopped and glanced around, wondering how Acacia knew her destination was Houston. From her address in the registration book? Or had Ben said something to her?
It gave Anna a funny feeling to think that she might be the topic of one of his conversations. Had he even thought about her since last night? Had he thought about their kiss?
That kiss.
Just the thought of his lips on hers, his hands moving over her body, made Anna tingle all over. She’d never responded that way to a kiss. With total abandon. With wanton disregard for the consequences. She’d wanted him, so much so at that moment she’d been willing to forget who he was and why she’d come to San Miguel. She’d been willing to ignore the fact that his wife’s heart beat inside her chest and if he knew…
If he knew…
She drew a breath as she walked out into the hot, brilliant day. He wasn’t going to know. Not unless he chose to. If he responded to the letter the hospital had sent anonymously on her behalf, if he made the request to meet her, then and only then would Anna tell him the truth. Until that time, she’d go back to Houston and get on with her life, and she’d let Ben do the same. She’d come here for her own peace of mind, but it wouldn’t be fair to destroy his in the process.
After stowing her bag in the trunk, Anna opened the car door and climbed in. The interior was like a furnace. She left the door open to release the stale, hot air while she inserted her key into the ignition and turned it.
Nothing happened.
She turned the key again and pumped the gas a little. Still nothing. Not so much as a click.
Popping the hood, she got out of the car to have a look even though she hadn’t the foggiest idea what she was looking for. She remembered once when her dad’s car had had a similar problem, he’d gotten the engine to turn over by cleaning the corrosion off the battery posts. But as Anna peered under the hood, she realized she had no idea where her battery was even located. It wasn’t in a prominent position the way the battery had been in her dad’s car.
As she gazed helplessly at the mass of wires and hoses, a shadow fell across the car and she turned to find Amador standing just behind her. He nodded, and the silver cross in his ear flashed brilliantly in the sunlight as he stepped up to the car.
“No start?”
Anna shook her head. “I think I may have a dead battery. Is there a garage nearby where I could get someone to give me a jump?”
“Un segundo por favor.” He strode toward an old battered pickup truck that had been parked in the shade of an elm tree. Cranking the ancient engine, he maneuvered the truck around to the front of Anna’s car and then set to work with jumper cables he’d pulled from underneath the truck seat.
But after ten minutes and still no luck, he stood back, scratching his head in defeat. “My cousin owns a garaje in town. We call him.”
Anna had no choice but to agree. She waited on the front steps of the hotel for Amador’s cousin, Luis, and then a few minutes later, watched with trepidation as he towed her car away with a wrecker that looked as if it might not make it to the end of the drive. But Luis seemed to have a good deal more faith than Anna. He gave her a saucy salute as he chugged down the drive toward the street.
“Anna?”
She turned as Emily, dressed in white Capri pants and sneakers, came out of the hotel and ran lightly down the steps. “I thought you’d be almost home by now.” She slipped on her sunglasses. “What happened?”
Anna pointed toward the wrecker that was just disappearing down the street. “My car wouldn’t start. I had to have it towed to a garage.”
�
�You’re kidding!” Emily plopped down on the steps beside her. “If that isn’t serendipity, I don’t know what is. There I was trying my hardest last night to convince you to stay and help me with my investigation, and now it seems you have no choice.”
Something in her tone touched a nerve. Anna glanced at her sharply, a suspicion bubbling to the surface. Was it possible her car trouble was something slightly more diabolical than mere bad luck?
It was probably her imagination, Anna told herself, but Emily’s smile looked a tad smug this morning.
“If it’s nothing too serious, I can still leave today,” Anna said testily. “I haven’t changed my mind since last night.”
Emily seemed to sense it was time to back off. “Okay. I understand.”
“But I have been thinking about everything you told me.” Anna watched the street for a moment, then turned to Emily. “If Katherine Sprague really was murdered as you seem so convinced she was, then this investigation of yours could be dangerous. You do realize that, don’t you?”
Emily’s blue eyes flickered. “You mean because her killer might come after me? I’ve thought about that. But I don’t think he’d dare. If anything happened to me, it would prove Katherine was murdered, wouldn’t it?”
“Unless it was made to look like an accident.”
Emily shook her head. “I still say he wouldn’t risk it. Not after all this time. He must think he’s gotten away with it.”
The way she kept using the male pronoun for the killer unnerved Anna. It was obvious Ben was still her number one suspect, and Anna was almost tempted to help with the misguided investigation just to prove her wrong.
But was it Emily she wanted to convince of Ben’s innocence…or herself?
EMILY GAVE ANNA a ride to the garage later that morning on her way out of town. She was meeting some friends for lunch in San Antonio, and then afterward, she wanted to do some research at the University of St. Agnes library. She assured Anna she’d be back by dinner and tried to get her to ride along, but Anna declined, not overly anxious to continue their previous conversation.
She preferred instead to concentrate on Luis’s preliminary diagnosis of her car. After his complicated and rather lengthy explanation in both English and Spanish, she still had only a vague notion that the problem had something to do with the alternator and could be fixed in a matter of hours if Luis could find the right part. But finding the right part was no simple matter. Not in San Miguel. Luis had made phone calls. Lots of phone calls. Nada. No luck. If the part had to be ordered from Germany, it would take weeks to arrive.
“From Germany!” Anna said in astonishment. “That car is only three years old. Surely someone somewhere in Texas stocks parts for it.”
No worries, Luis assured her. He had a cousin in the valley who owned a salvage yard. He might be able to get the part from him.
Anna sighed in frustration. “Is there someplace in town where I can rent a vehicle?” If she was going to be stuck in San Miguel for the next couple of days, she didn’t want to be without transportation.
Luis beamed and led her over to a bay in the garage where he proudly unveiled a candy-apple-red Mustang convertible. The car was at least thirty years old and looked every minute of it, but the battered muscle car was obviously his pride and joy.
“Twenty-five dollars a day. You buy the gas. That’s a good deal, no?”
Anna nodded and took out her wallet. “You take VISA?”
“VISA, MasterCard, American Express. Just like in the big city.” He grinned and plucked her platinum card from her fingers without the slightest hesitation.
Anna couldn’t help but return his smile. Unlike the dour Amador, Cousin Luis was a real charmer.
He opened the door for her, and when Anna climbed inside, he bent to peer down at her. “You drive a stick, no?”
Anna glanced doubtfully at the stick shift. It had been years since she’d driven a car with a standard transmission, but she hoped it was like riding a bike. It would all come back to her once she started the engine.
But it proved a little more difficult than riding a bike. After a couple of false starts and some grinding of gears, Anna finally managed to ease the car from its slot in the garage. As she pulled onto the street, she glanced in the rearview mirror. Luis stood on the sidewalk anxiously watching her, and as she narrowly missed sideswiping a minivan, she saw him lift a hand to quickly cross himself.
WHAT POSSESSED HER to drive across the river and locate the old mission, Anna couldn’t honestly say. She’d only meant to cruise around town for a few minutes to get her bearings before heading back to the hotel to check in again.
But then, all of a sudden, the old metal bridge which spanned the river rose in front of her, and before Anna realized what she was doing, she’d driven across and headed north on a narrow, paved lane heavily overhung with the drooping branches of live oaks.
The mission was less than a half mile from the bridge, and as Ben had said the evening before, the road led right to it.
Anna was surprised that no other cars were about as she pulled to the side of the road. She wasn’t certain what she’d been expecting. Tourists milling about grounds as lush and manicured as those surrounding the Alamo maybe. But instead, the place was deserted, the atmosphere slightly oppressive beneath a heavy canopy of leaves that blocked the sunlight.
Part of the stone wall that had once protected the mission from incursions by the French and by marauding Apache and Comanche war parties had long since crumbled away, and the rest was covered with a thick blanket of lichen.
A squirrel rummaged in the underbrush, and Anna paused, watching the swish of his tail, the avid dart of his beady little eyes as he scrambled through the dead leaves. Then he was gone, lost from her sight as he scurried up a tree.
As Anna turned back to the mission, she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye. Another squirrel, she told herself, but the motion had come from inside the mission. She glanced up at the high stone facade, shivering, even though the day was hot and humid.
It was strange, but she wasn’t frightened. Not really. What she felt instead of fear was a nagging uneasiness that perhaps she shouldn’t be there and a vague sense of déjà vu that made her wonder if she’d already been there. But she knew she hadn’t. She’d never set foot in San Miguel before yesterday.
There was a perfectly logical explanation for the déjà vu, she told herself. The familiarity of the place probably stemmed from her visits to the other missions along the San Antonio River.
When her mother had been alive, they’d often gone to San Antonio to spend weekends. They’d dine on the River Walk, shop at the exotic El Mercado and toured the missions, always a highlight for Anna’s mother.
Now, as Anna stood gazing at the Mission San Miguel, those memories came flooding back. For the first time in years, she let herself remember her mother, really remember her, and an aching loneliness swept over her. She could almost hear her mother’s soft laughter, her lilting voice as she recounted the missions’ rich history.
Making her way inside the walls, Anna opened the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. She’d expected the interior to be dark and dank, but sunlight streamed in from openings placed high on the stone wall near the roofline.
The muscles in her chest tightened painfully as she looked around. This was where it had happened. This was where Katherine Sprague’s life had ended, and Anna’s second chance had begun.
Technically, of course, Katherine’s life had ended in the hospital, when life support had been terminated. But inside the mission, perhaps in this very room, was where she’d made the decision not to go on.
Or where someone else had made that decision for her.
The dirt floor was so uneven in places that Anna stumbled once or twice as she wandered around. And suddenly, as she lingered inside, she began to get a very bad feeling about the mission. What was it Emily had said last night? I don’t think it’s beautiful at all. I think it’s a dark, evi
l place.
Yes, Anna thought, with a cold, spine-tingling shiver. Evil had been there. She could feel it. She’d experienced a similar uncanny chill the first time she’d entered the Alamo, but there was a subtle difference here. She couldn’t explain it, but she was suddenly very afraid.
She whirled to leave, but someone blocked her way. Someone who had come in so silently, Anna hadn’t heard his approach. Someone who might still have murder in his heart…
SHE JUMPED BACK and stumbled on the uneven floor. Ben reached out to steady her, but the moment he touched her, she started so violently, he let his hands drop from her arms immediately. He stared down at her with a frown. “What are you doing here?”
Her hand crept to her throat. Ben thought he could see it tremble. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“I came to see if I could figure out who was over here yesterday. You said you saw someone, remember?”
She nodded. “I did see someone. But I still don’t understand why it matters.”
Ben shrugged. “Maybe it doesn’t. But I thought I’d have a look around anyway. It’d be a shame if vandals destroyed this place.”
Anna lowered her voice, her gaze moving to the stone steps that led to the bell tower. “I saw something earlier when I first got here. I wondered if someone was up there.”
Ben lifted a brow, but didn’t say anything. Instead he glanced quickly around, then leaned forward and said very softly against Anna’s ear, “Wait here. I’ll have a look around.”
She nodded, but she looked as if she might bolt at any moment. Ben wondered what had shaken her up so badly. And why the hell she’d come here in the first place.
He searched through all the rooms and then climbed the steps to the bell tower. If anyone had recently been in the mission, they were long gone now.
He came back down the steps to join Anna. “No one’s here. Are you sure you didn’t see a squirrel?”
Confessions of the Heart Page 10
