Those Texas Nights

by Delores Fossen

  Sophie tried to call Mila again but got no answer. That wasn’t so unusual since Mila often didn’t take calls on her cell while she was at work, but her friend wasn’t answering the bookstore phone, either. Sophie hoped that meant it was because Mila had already gotten the word about Tate running away and was out looking for him. Too bad there were no guarantees that the boy was actually in Wrangler’s Creek.

  She pulled to a stop in front of the bookstore and wasn’t surprised when Clay pulled up, as well. Sophie had called him within minutes after learning that her nephew might be headed this way, and Clay had gone out to the highway to see if he could find Tate hitchhiking.

  “Anything?” Sophie immediately asked him.

  Clay shook his head. “But I remembered Roman mentioning that Mila and Tate stayed in touch so I came here.”

  “That’s why I came, too, but Mila isn’t answering her phones. She’s not at her house, either, because I drove by there on the way here.”

  Sophie hurried to the door, but it was locked, and the blinds were all drawn so that they couldn’t even see inside. She searched through her purse for the spare key Mila had given her, and she used it to open the door.

  The first thing Sophie heard was music, an old song from the fifties. It sounded familiar, but she didn’t know the title. It was pouring through the speaker system which normally played Mila’s preferred Celtic tunes. And then Sophie saw something she certainly hadn’t been expecting.

  “Would Tate have a key, too? If so, maybe he let himself in,” Clay asked, but his words died on his lips when he saw what had caused Sophie to freeze in her tracks.

  Mila was on all fours in the reading area, but she had pushed back the sofa and chairs that were normally there. Her friend was wearing denim shorts, a midriff white top that she’d tied in the front and white tennis shoes.

  And her friend wasn’t alone.

  There was a man, someone Sophie had never seen before, and he was dressed in black pants and a black muscle shirt. Like Mila, he was on all fours, too, and they were facing each other, their mouths nearly touching.

  “Shit,” Mila said, scrambling to get to her feet. The guy scrambled, too, and his profanity was significantly worse than Mila’s. “You’re not going to arrest me, are you?” he said to Clay when he spotted the badge. “Because I’m only doing what Baby wanted. Uh, I mean Mila.”

  “Why are you here?” Mila asked Sophie and Clay at the same moment that Sophie had been about to ask, “What’s going on?”

  But Sophie knew those clothes, knew the music, too. “This is from Dirty Dancing,” Sophie provided, and then she repeated, “What’s going on?”

  Mila huffed. “It’s from one of the dating sites. You told me I should try one.”

  That was true. “Uh, this is a date?”

  “A reenactment,” the man quickly provided. “I found Baby on the Make My Fantasies Come True website. Mila was looking for a Dirty Dancing experience, too. Not the sex scene, of course, because I’m gay, but she wanted the Love Is Strange experience, followed by Baby in the corner.”

  Ah, that explained why the song was playing over the speakers, but it didn’t explain much else. This was the first Sophie was hearing about that particular fantasy, but Mila did tend to obsess on anything romantic. At least she wasn’t acting out a Fifty Shades of Grey scene because Sophie didn’t want images of her best friend like that in her head.

  Later, she would remind Mila that it wasn’t a good idea to meet strange men in nonpublic places, but that could wait, especially since “Johnny” was gathering up his things to hightail it out of there.

  “Tate’s missing,” Sophie said. “Did he get in touch with you?”

  Mila’s eyes widened. “No. How long has he been gone?” She grabbed her sweater and threw it on as if she might bolt out of there to go find him.

  “He left school about four hours ago. Could you check your phone messages and see if he called you?”

  Mila hurried to the checkout counter, where both her cell and the landline were. She turned the landline to Sophie so she could look for messages. Other than the ones from Sophie, there was nothing. Mila shook her head, too, after listening to the voice mails on her cell.

  “None from Tate, but you called three times,” Mila said, still shaking her head. “I’d turned off my phone for the fantasy. God, I’m so sorry.” Tears sprang to her eyes, and since Mila wasn’t a crier, Sophie knew this had shaken her as much as it had the rest of them.

  “When’s the last time you heard from Tate?” Clay asked Mila.

  He sounded like a cop, which in this case was both bad and good. They needed a cop to help them, but Sophie knew that Mila would probably just get frazzled if she was interrogated right now. Of course, Sophie hadn’t realized her best friend was into fantasy role-playing, either.

  “It’s been a while.” Mila blinked back tears. “Two weeks, maybe. Wait, no. That’s the last time he called me, but he sent me an email day before yesterday.” That caused Mila to scurry to her office, which was just a small cubby off the main floor.

  “Tate and you were close?” Clay, again. And the cop tone had gone up a notch. He didn’t come out and ask if anything inappropriate had been going on between Tate and her, but after what he’d just witnessed, Sophie could see why he’d have doubts.

  “Yes, we were close.” Mila was still battling those tears, but she sounded defensive, too.

  “Mila and Tate’s mother, Valerie, are first cousins,” Sophie explained. “But Vita raised Valerie so they’re really more like sisters. Over the years whenever Tate’s wanted to talk about his mom, he’d call Mila.”

  “Then, he got into reading, and from time to time, he has me order books he’s interested in,” Mila added as she booted up her laptop. “In fact, that’s what the email was about. He wanted me to see if I could get him an advance reading copy of a YA series that he’s really into. Here it is.” She turned the computer for them to see.

  Clay and Sophie nearly banged heads when they both leaned in to read it, and Sophie frantically searched through the email. It really was just about a book order—until Sophie scrolled down past Tate’s name. There was a PS.

  Might be leaving soon to see my mom.

  “Oh, God,” Mila repeated. “I didn’t even notice that. I just hit Reply and told him I’d see what I could do about the book.”

  “Do you have a way to get in touch with Valerie?” Clay asked.

  Mila shook her head. “I haven’t spoken to her in years.”

  Clay took out his phone, stepped away and pressed in a number. “What’s Valerie’s last name?”

  “Banchini,” Mila provided, and she spelled it for him. “If she’s still using that name. She might have gotten married.” She turned back to Sophie. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help. God, do you think Tate’s all right?”

  “I’m sure he is.” Sophie wasn’t sure of that at all, but if Mila fell apart, Sophie might fall right along with her. It was crushing her heart to think of Tate out there, especially at this late hour. And it was cold. He could have taken a ride with a stranger. He could—

  “Sophie!” Mila practically yelled. “Are you hyperventilating?”

  Probably, but Sophie quickly tried to level her breathing. Tried to focus, too. Passing out wouldn’t help Tate.

  Mila’s near yell got Clay’s attention as well, and even though he didn’t end his call, he put Sophie in the chair behind Mila’s desk. Sophie assured him that it wasn’t necessary, but it was. It helped with some of the dizziness.

  “Would Tate go to your mother?” Sophie asked Mila.

  “Not a chance.”

  Mila was right. Vita was scary enough to adults, and a boy who had just turned twelve would give her a wide berth.

  “I’ll call my mom just in case,” Mila said. She
gave Sophie a “pray for me” look that Sophie had no trouble understanding. A conversation with Vita was never short, and if she was in a bad mood, you might end up on the receiving end of a gypsy’s curse.

  Mila started that call just as Clay got Sophie’s attention. “Roman didn’t have a current number for Valerie, but I was able to find one through DMV records. She’s in Santa Fe, but she didn’t answer when I tried to call her. A cop friend is trying to contact her now.” He’d no sooner said that when someone must have come on the line because Clay put his phone back to his ear.

  Santa Fe? Mercy, she prayed Tate hadn’t tried to get that far.

  “I see,” Clay said to the caller. He paused. “Shit.”

  Sophie’s stomach clenched, and she got to her feet even though she was still a little dizzy. She waited, holding her breath so long that her lungs started to ache. It seemed to take an eternity for Clay to finish his call.

  “Tate did have his mother’s number. She’d posted it on Facebook because she was selling something and he saw it and phoned her this morning,” Clay started. “He told her that he wanted to go see her.”

  “Gotta go, Mom,” Mila quickly said, and she hit the end call button even though Vita was still talking. Sophie caught the words “location spell.”

  Clay shook his head, mumbled another shit.

  “Valerie told him no, that it was a bad time for a visit, and she hung up on him.”

  Since Sophie didn’t know what else to say, she doled out her own shit. “And Valerie didn’t think she should tell Roman about that conversation?”

  But she waved off this question. This was the woman who’d abandoned her baby, and Sophie doubted she’d recently gotten doused with a bucket of maternal love and instincts. Still, she had to be an idiot not to realize how this would affect the boy.

  “I’ll call Roman,” Sophie said, taking out her phone.

  Clay glanced around. “Does Tate have a key to this place or to your house?”

  Mila was shaking her head before Clay even finished the question. Then, she stopped. “But he knows I keep a key in the verbena plant on my back porch.”

  Clay huffed, and if circumstances had been different, he might have lectured her on stashing a key where a burglar could find it. But instead of a lecture, they all hurried out the door. Since Clay made it to his truck first, Sophie and Mila followed and piled in the vehicle after him.

  He took off the moment they had on their seat belts. It was only a short ride to Mila’s, less than five minutes, but that was more than enough time for the silence to close in around them. Sophie considered using the time to call Roman, but she decided to wait until they’d checked out Mila’s place.

  “I was going to tell you about the fantasy stuff,” Mila whispered to her. “But you’ve been so busy, and I figured you were dealing with the fallout from what happened with Meredith and Garrett. The fallout from April, too.”

  Until Mila added that last part, Sophie had been about to assure her that she was never too busy to hear what was going on in her best friend’s life. Especially this. But she stopped. “April?” Clay and Sophie asked in unison.

  Mila looked at them as if the answer were obvious. It wasn’t.

  “April came by the shop a couple of hours ago,” Mila explained. “She said she’d been by Clay’s office, but Reena told him he was on his way out to the ranch to see you.”

  Clay groaned. “I didn’t tell Reena where I was going, but she passed me on the road when I took the turn to Sophie’s.”

  And Sophie knew why Clay had been going there—to make sure she wasn’t a wreck from the letter in the pink envelope. Well, she was a wreck all right and hadn’t even gotten to what was certain to be another dose of bad news from dear ol’ Dad.

  “Anyway, April was pissed,” Mila went on. “She said she’d tried to call you,” she added to Clay. “Then, she tried calling Sophie.”

  “Dead zone,” Clay and Sophie answered in unison.

  “That’s what I figured, but then April had a fit that you two might be together. I assured her that nothing was going on, but she didn’t believe me.”

  There was a good reason for April’s disbelief. It’s because something was going on between Clay and her. Well, some kissing anyway, but considering the firestorm their relationship was causing, there probably wouldn’t be any future kisses.

  A thought that had Sophie feeling even worse than she already did.

  “Anyway, after she ranted for a while, April said she was going home to pack. She said if her brother was going to carry on with Brantley’s ex, then she was going to have Brantley move the boys and her far away from Wrangler’s Creek.”

  This time it was Sophie who groaned. “You can drop us off at Mila’s and go to her,” Sophie suggested to Clay.

  He shook his head, pulled to a stop in front of Mila’s house. “I want to check for Tate first.”

  Sophie knew this was already eating away at him. Yeah, definitely no more kisses. Heck, if April moved, then Clay might follow her just to make sure his nephews were okay. She got that. Because at the moment Sophie was worried about her own nephew.

  “April called you a name,” Mila continued as they headed up the porch. She glanced back at Sophie to indicate the name-calling was for her.

  “She called me a bitch,” Sophie supplied.

  “How’d you know?”

  “Lucky guess,” she grumbled.

  Mila unlocked the door, threw it open, and Sophie got ready to call out Tate’s name. But it wasn’t necessary. That’s because she saw him asleep on the sofa.

  Tate, who looked identical to Roman when he was that age, lay there with a bag of chips on his chest and a can of soda on the floor next to his backpack. He must have heard them because he opened his eyes, slowly. Eyes that doubled in size as his gaze slipped from Mila. To Sophie. Then to Clay.

  Her nephew’s gaze lingered a moment on Clay’s badge.

  Tate stood, the bag of chips toppling to the floor, and he lifted his hands in the air. He swallowed hard. “You can go ahead and arrest me,” Tate said. He was probably trying to sound brave. And he was failing. His hands were shaking. “But please don’t tell my dad where I am.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  FROM THE MOMENT Tate had asked them not to tell Roman where he was, Sophie had known that was not going to happen. She called Roman, and as she expected, he said he’d be right there.

  Sophie had insisted instead that Clay and she drive Tate to the ranch—where there’d be more space for Roman to deal with his son. The real reason, though, was that she hadn’t wanted Roman behind the wheel in his state of mind. She wasn’t exactly sure what that state would be, but she was certain it wouldn’t be good.

  “You shouldn’t have told Dad,” Tate grumbled as Clay got them into his truck. Mila stayed behind in the doorway, giving them a wave and then making the “call me” sign to Sophie.

  “Your father loves you, and he was worried something bad had happened to you,” Sophie grumbled right back to her nephew.

  “Something bad did.” Even though Tate was in the middle of the seat and strapped in with the seat belt, he managed to slump.

  Sophie’s heart sank, seeing him like this. Since this was the calm before the storm, she put her arm around him and looked over at Clay. He had his own storm to face.

  “After you drop us off at the ranch, you should go ahead and check on your sister,” she offered again.

  “I can wait a while longer,” Clay answered. “There was a missing person’s report on Tate so I’ll need to handle that.”

  “You gonna arrest me?” Tate asked him.

  “Not at the moment.”

  “Wish you would,” Tate said under his breath. “Then I wouldn’t have to face my dad.”

  “Oh, you’d still
have to face him. Trust me, it’s best for that to happen when you’re not behind bars. Mind telling me, though, how you got to Mila’s?”

  Good question because if he’d hitchhiked, Tate was about to get a lecture. Then he’d get another one from Roman.

  “I don’t want to get anybody in trouble,” Tate said.

  “Trouble’s already here. Best to tell me what happened,” Clay insisted. He wasn’t using his cop’s voice, though. This was more like the tone he used with his own nephews, and Sophie was thankful for it.

  Tate took his time answering. “My friend has a big brother, he’s sixteen, and I paid him to drive me out there. I used the key Mila keeps in that smelly plant to unlock the back door. I was going to have her take me to see my mom. I figured since they were cousins and all that she’d have my mom’s address.”

  Sophie sighed. “You know she couldn’t have done that.”

  Tate just shrugged.

  “How’d you get your mom’s phone number?” Clay pressed.

  “Internet. She makes stuff out of trash. Like art, you know. And I saw where she was selling things in this shop. I called the shop and told them I wanted to get in touch with her so I could maybe buy some stuff from her as a present for somebody. They gave me her phone number.” He paused. “She didn’t know who I was. I had to tell her it was me.”

  Mercy, it was hard to hear this, and she wished she’d been there with him to talk him out of that call. Since he was as stubborn as his father, she likely wouldn’t have been able to do that, but at least she could have been there to help him pick up the pieces.

  Sophie leaned down to make eye contact with Tate. “You know your mom isn’t, well, she just isn’t in a mom kind of place in her life right now.”