by Diana Palmer
“They have them out of wedlock a lot, though,” she pointed out. “So it’s a one-parent family trying to raise the kids. I saw the result in school, with boys who had no fathers around to discipline them and teach them the things men need to know to get along in the world.”
He averted his eyes. “Maybe my life would have been happier in a single-parent family.”
She recalled what he’d told her, about his father’s drinking problem, that he’d beat Carson’s mother to death, and she grimaced. “I am so sorry for what happened to you,” she said softly. “Except for my grandmother’s evil boyfriend, nobody ever hurt me in my life, least of all my parents.”
He drew in a long breath. His eyes were solemn as he stared off into the distance. “We attach the same importance to family that you do,” he said quietly. “We live in small communities, people know each other for generations. Children are brought up not only by their parents, but by other parents, as well. It’s a good way.”
“But it isn’t your style,” she said without looking at him. “You have to be free.”
He scowled and looked down at her, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Here, spread the seeds over there, would you?” she asked, indicating another feeder. “I forgot to put up a seed cake for them.” She pulled it out of her pocket and took the wrapper off.
In the house, unseen, Jake Blair was watching them with wide, shocked eyes. He turned. “Come here,” he told Rourke. “You’re not going to believe this.”
Rourke followed his gaze out the window and let out a hoot of laughter. “You’re having me on,” he chuckled. “That can’t be Carson, feeding the birds!”
“Oh, yes, it can.” He pursed his lips. “I wonder...”
“I wouldn’t even think it. Not yet. He’s got a lot to work through before he’s fit for any young woman, especially your daughter.”
“Men can change. I did,” Jake said quietly. “And in my day, I was a harder case than he is.”
“You did change,” Rourke agreed. “But you don’t have the scars he’s carrying.”
“Tell me,” Jake said.
Rourke shook his head and smiled sadly. “I won’t do that. It’s his story, his pain. He’ll have to be the one to tell it.”
Jake just nodded. He watched his daughter lead Carson around the yard, saw them laughing together as the birds came very close and they paused, very still, so that they came right up almost to their feet.
That jacket Carson wore was really gorgeous, he thought. Then he compared it to Carlie’s old coat and he winced. He’d tried to give her all the necessities. He hadn’t realized how difficult it was going to be, living on a minister’s small salary in an equally small community. The days of big money were long gone. His conscience wouldn’t let him go back to it. He did love his work, anyway.
He turned away from the window, leading Rourke back into his office.
11
CARLIE WENT AHEAD of Carson into the house through the back door. Rourke and her father were just having coffee.
Jake held up the pot and raised his eyebrows.
“Please,” Carson said. “I haven’t had a cup this morning. Withdrawal symptoms are setting in,” he added, deliberately making his hand shake.
The other men laughed.
“Breakfast?” Carlie asked, but she was looking at Carson. “I can make biscuits with scrambled eggs and sausage. Fresh sausage. One of our congregation brought it over yesterday.”
“Sounds good to me, pumpkin,” Jake said easily. “Make enough for everybody.”
“You bet.” She could almost float. It was one of the best days of her life so far. She had to make sure she didn’t linger over Carson when she looked his way. She didn’t want to embarrass him.
“Did you come over to help feed the local wildlife?” Rourke asked with a grin.
Carson chuckled. “No. I made a connection. Actually, I made it from something Lanette said. That whoever planned the kidnapping was sloppy, but that it must be somebody big. So I thought of the politician who’s connected to the Cotillo drug cartel across the border.”
“Why would he be after you, though?” Rourke asked Jake, frowning. “Have you had any contact with people who know things about the cartel?”
“None,” Jake said. He sipped coffee and shook his head. “I have no idea at all why I’ve been targeted, or by whom.” He smiled faintly. “Someone from the old life, possibly, after revenge. But if that’s the case, they’ve waited a long time for it.”
“I don’t think it’s that,” Carson said quietly. “It just feels...I don’t know, jagged.”
The other two men stared at him.
“Jagged?” Rourke prompted.
“A man with a drug habit comes after Carlie, but tries to make it look like he was after you,” Carson told Jake. “Now, a kidnapping attempt on Carlie to bring you into the line of fire so they could take you out. Why?”
“Jagged,” Jake agreed. “Like someone jumped from one victim to another.”
“It’s just a thought,” Carson continued, “but the man who hired the first assassin was on drugs.”
“The man who died in the fire up in Wyoming, who was trying to kill Dalton Kirk for something he remembered,” Rourke told Jake. “I mentioned it to you. The man, Richard Martin by name, was a former DEA agent, a mole who fed information to the drug cartel over in Cotillo. I’m pretty sure he hired the man who came after Carlie, to stop her from remembering what he looked like. With her photographic memory, she was giving out exact information about him. He didn’t want that.”
“Because he worked for Matthew Helm, a crooked politician who’s just been named to the unexpired U.S. Senate seat in Texas,” Carson concluded. “We know now why our computer expert Joey was killed and the computer was trashed, and why Carlie was targeted. You see, the killer had murdered an assistant D.A. in San Antonio who was investigating Helm for embezzlement and drug trafficking. He had files that mysteriously disappeared. Every bit of the evidence that could have been used against him is gone, and Lieutenant Rick Marquez of San Antonio PD told Cash Grier that two witnesses in the case have refused to testify. One just left the country, in fact.”
“How convenient for Helm,” Rourke commented.
“This is pretty big,” Jake said, listening intently. “He didn’t want his link to Helm to get out, obviously, but why kill a computer tech and try to kill Carlie?”
“Because of the watch and the shirt,” Rourke said.
“Excuse me?” Jake asked, wide-eyed.
“The assistant D.A.’s wife was loaded,” Carson said. “She’d just bought her husband a very expensive watch that played a song and chimed on the hour. She also bought him an exclusive, equally expensive, designer paisley shirt. Martin took a shine to both, so he stole them. He didn’t want anyone to remember what he was wearing, because it linked his boss to the assistant D.A.’s murder.”
Jake exchanged glances with his daughter. “You told me about this.”
“Yes,” Carlie said. She was deep in thought.
“What happened to the watch and the shirt?” Jake asked Carson.
“I assume whoever ransacked the room Richard Martin was occupying at the local motel took both and destroyed them.” Rourke sighed. “It would be insane to keep something so dangerous.”
“The watch played a song, but nobody ever told me which song,” Carlie said. She looked at Rourke.
He sang it, “I Love Rock ’n’ Roll,” and grinned because he was totally off-key. “It was a Joan Jett song from—”
“That’s it,” Carly cried. “I thought I was just reacting to the stuff he knocked me out with, so I didn’t say anything. The kidnapper was wearing a cheap suit, but he had this expensive watch on his wrist. It was sort of like the one Calhoun Ballenger wears. You
know, that Rolex.”
“I know,” Jake mused. “I told him once that he could feed a whole third-world country on the proceeds if he sold that thing. He just laughed and said it was two generations old and a family heirloom. He wouldn’t sell it for the world.” He glanced at Rourke. “He’s going to run for that U.S. Senate seat against Helm. He told me yesterday. I ran into him in town.”
“He’d be a wonderful senator,” Carlie mused. “His brother Justin is dealing with the feedlot and the ranch anyway, since Calhoun’s been a state senator for the past few years. He’s done so much for our state...”
“He’ll be a target, too,” Jake said heavily.
“Yes,” Carson said. “The other candidates for the temporary appointment ended up arrested on various drug charges. They swore the drugs were planted. I believe them.”
“That politician needs to be taken down,” Jake said shortly. “Once he has real power, he’ll cause untold misery.”
“I’m game,” Rourke volunteered. “And since I’m officially his gofer, I have the inside track on what he’s up to.”
“You be careful,” Jake told him.
“You know me,” Rourke chuckled.
“I do. That’s why I made the remark.”
Carson was quiet. He was just remembering something. He didn’t want to share it with the others. Lanette had excused herself at the theater the night Carlie had been kidnapped. It was a small, insignificant thing in itself and might be quite innocent. But Lanette hated Carlie. She wore expensive clothes, not the sort she could pay for on a meager salary working personnel for a company. A lot of things about her didn’t quite add up.
“You’re very quiet,” Rourke prompted him.
“Sorry.” He smiled faintly. “I was thinking about patterns.” He glanced at Carlie. “The man who used the chloroform on you, he was wearing the watch?”
She nodded. “I thought I was hallucinating when it chimed. I mean, I’ve heard musical watches, but that was totally different.”
“I’m reliably informed that the price of a new Jaguar convertible is in the same price range,” Rourke commented wryly.
“The kidnapper is the connection,” Carson said, frowning thoughtfully. “He can link Helm to the assistant D.A.’s murder.”
“The watch by itself won’t help a lot,” Jake commented.
“Yes, but don’t you see, the kidnapper has to be working for Matthew Helm. The fact that he has the watch connects him to Helm, through Helm’s man, Richard Martin, who killed the assistant D.A.,” Carson emphasized. “It’s a pattern, a chain of evidence.”
“You’re right!” Rourke said, drawing in a breath. “I didn’t make the connection.”
Carson gazed at Carlie quietly, his eyes dark and concerned. “You don’t leave the house without the phone in the console of the truck, and not until it’s been checked for devices,” he told her.
She just nodded.
Jake hid a smile.
“Promise me,” Carson added, staring her down.
She grimaced. “Okay. I promise.”
Carson’s gaze turned to Jake and became amused. “I’ve learned already that if she gives her word, she’ll keep it. You just have to make sure she gives it.”
Jake ruffled Carlie’s hair. “That’s my girl, all right.” Carlie grinned.
“One of us needs to go up to San Antonio and talk to Rick Marquez,” Rourke said, getting out of his chair. “This is a development he’ll enjoy pursuing.”
“If he needs to talk to me, I’ll go up there, too,” Carlie said.
“Not in the Cobra, you won’t.”
Jake and Carson stared at each other. They’d both said exactly the same thing at the same time, and they burst out laughing.
“Okay, okay,” Carlie muttered. “If you’re ganging up on me, I’ll take the truck if I have to go. Just expect a call for help halfway there because my truck barely makes it to work every day. It won’t make it to San Antonio without major engine failure!”
“I’ll drive you,” Jake told his daughter with a smile. “How’s that?”
She grinned. “That’s great, Dad.”
“Carson, you’re the best person to talk to Marquez,” Rourke told the other man. “I can’t be seen near anyone in law enforcement right now. You can ask if he needs a statement from Carlie,” Rourke added. “But he lives in Jacobsville, you know. He could probably take a statement down here.”
“I forgot. His mother is Barbara, who runs Barbara’s Café,” she told Carson, who looked puzzled.
“And his father-in-law runs the CIA,” Jake added with a chuckle.
“Nice connections,” Rourke said. He glanced at his watch. “I have to get back before Helm misses me. I’ll be off, then.”
“See you,” Jake replied.
Rourke punched Carson on the shoulder and grinned as he walked out.
* * *
CARSON FINISHED HIS coffee. Carlie was clearing away breakfast. She glanced at Carson with her heart in her eyes. He looked at her as if she were a juicy steak and he was a starving man.
Jake turned his attention suddenly to Carson and jerked his head toward the office. Carson nodded.
“Breakfast was very good,” Carson told her. “You have a way with food.”
She smiled brightly. “Thanks!”
Carson followed her father into his study. “No calls for a few minutes, Carlie,” Jake called before he shut the door. As an afterthought, he locked it.
Carson drew in a long breath as he studied the man across from him. Jake had been personable over breakfast, but at the moment he’d never looked less like a minister. His long, fit body was almost coiled. His pale blue eyes glittered with some inner fire.
“You’re me, twenty-two years ago,” Jake said without preamble. “And that child in there is my whole life. I’m seeing connections of my own,” he added in a low tone. “I destroyed her mother. I’m not going to stand by and let you destroy her. She deserves better than a womanizing mercenary.”
Carson sighed. He slid into a chair beside the desk where Jake sat down, and crossed his legs. “People are not what they seem to be,” he began heavily. “You’re thinking about the reputation I have with women. Carlie’s already thrown it at me. It’s why we argued the day I had to take her to the emergency room with the asthma attack.”
“I thought as much,” Jake replied.
“Six years ago,” Carson began, “I was in the last two years of graduate school when I fell in love with a brash, outgoing, beautiful girl at a powwow on the reservation in South Dakota where I grew up. Her name was Jessica and I’d known her for years. I loved her insanely, so she married me. The first year was perfect. I thought it would never end. But my last year in college, she got tired of having me away so much at school. She took a lover. He was one of the most militant men on the reservation,” he continued, his eyes cold and haunted. “He had a rap sheet, and the rez police knew him on sight. I tried to get her to come home, but she said she loved him, she wasn’t coming back to a boring life as the wife of a college student. She didn’t think much of higher education in the first place. So I let her go.”
He shifted in the chair. “But I wouldn’t give her a divorce. I knew he was beating her. I heard it from my cousins. I talked to her on the phone, and tried to get her to press charges. She said he didn’t mean it, he loved her, he’d never do it again.” He met Jake’s world-weary eyes. “My father gave my mother the same spiel after he beat her up, over and over again,” he said coldly. “I was six years old when he hit her too hard and ran. He was prosecuted for murder and ended up in the same prison with one of my mother’s brothers. He died not long after that. My uncle had nothing to lose, you see, and he loved my mother.”
Jake’s face was relaxing, just a little. He didn’t interrupt.
“I went to live with cousins. One of my uncles, a rez cop, adopted me as his son since he had no children of his own. I was given all the necessities, but there’s no substitute for loving, real parents. I missed my mother.” He paused, took a breath and plowed ahead. “Jessie was pregnant and near her due date. She was living with her lover and she swore the child was his. But I had a visitor who knew one of my cousins. He said it was my child, that Jessie lied about it because she didn’t want me to drag her into court for paternity tests.”
He leaned forward, his eyes downcast. “I finished my last final and flew back to the rez to see her. She was alone at her house. She was afraid of me.” He laughed coldly. “She said okay, it was my child, and I could see it when it was born, but she was staying with Jeff no matter what I did. I was about to tell her I’d let her get the divorce, when Jeff drove up. He stormed into the house and accused her of two-timing him. I tried to restrain him, but he blindsided me. While I was getting back up, he dragged Jessie out the door with him. I managed to get outside in time to watch him throw her into the passenger seat. She was screaming. She thought he was going to kill her. So did I.”
Jake’s pale eyes were riveted to him.
“So I got in my car and went after them. He saw me in the rearview mirror, I guess, because he sped up and started weaving all over the road. I didn’t have a cell phone with me or I’d have called the police on the rez and had them pick him up. I followed them around the dirt roads. He started across a bridge that had been condemned. There were spring floods, huge ones, water coming right up over the wooden bridge.”
He closed his eyes. “He went through the rotten boards on the side and right into the river. The car, with both of them inside, washed away.” He lifted his head. His eyes were cold, dead. “They found the bodies almost two days later. The child was almost full-term, but they couldn’t save him.” He closed his eyes. “I graduated, joined the military, asked for combat because I wanted to die. That was almost eight years ago.”
He felt a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked into pale blue ones. “Listen, son,” Jake said quietly, “you were trying to save her. In the process, a madman miscalculated his driving skills and wrecked his car. If it hadn’t been that, he might have shot her and then shot himself. He might have died in a fight. She might have died from complications of childbirth. But, it would still have happened. When a life is meant to be over, it’s over. That’s God’s business. You can’t control life, Carson,” he concluded. “It’s a fool’s game to think you can even try. You’re tormenting yourself over something that nobody could have prevented.”
