“We think it’s all part of the same overall problem. The rash of murders, the drugs, everything. What we can’t figure out is who’s killing off all the midlevel criminals in their organization. That’s where Nicolette Johnson comes in. Her cousin, Arianna, was part of the gang that’s apparently been behind most of the felonies in Sagebrush lately.”
“Arianna Munson? Wasn’t that case solved?”
“Not entirely. Arianna did kill Andrew Garry, but she also supposedly left behind clues to the crime syndicate’s operations. A lot of people, my captain included, think our new cook holds the key to some important code the gang had, whether she realizes it or not.”
“What’re we supposed to do? Grill her for answers while she grills our dinner?”
Jackson rolled his eyes. “Something like that. Just try to be nice to her, will you? She seems like a pretty decent sort.”
“How’d she end up homeless?”
“That was partly my fault. Somebody left a bomb outside her door and I didn’t protect her well enough.”
The older man eyed the dog licking the last bit of kibble from his bowl. “Titan didn’t alert?”
“He did fine. I was too slow. Nicki picked up the explosive device and we just missed getting hurt.”
Bushy gray eyebrows arched as Harold began to smile. “So it’s Nicki, huh? Well, why didn’t you say so?”
“Don’t look at me like that,” Jackson warned. “It’s not personal.”
“Fine by me. She’s probably ugly as a mud fence with stringy hair and missing front teeth. Right?”
He made a face. “Okay, so she’s pretty. So what? That doesn’t change a thing.”
Jackson would have felt a lot more confident that his excuse was credible if Harold had not walked off, chortling to himself, as if somebody had just told a really funny joke.
Truth to tell, Jackson hoped the joke was not going to be on him because thoughts of Nicki were beginning to take up an awful lot of room in his busy mind.
He not only cared about her well-being, he had begun to worry about the health and safety of her unborn child. If that wasn’t crazy, he didn’t know what was.
SIX
When Nicki awoke the following morning at the motel, she was stiff and sore and sorry she had given in to irrational fear. Nevertheless, she had slept soundly on the floor and was now ready to tackle anything, particularly her new job.
Slowly pushing open the sliding closet door, she got to her feet and stretched. In midyawn, she gazed across the room and gasped. The door she had so carefully locked was standing ajar!
Not only that, sunlight streaming through the doorway revealed that the blankets she had tucked around the bed pillows to replicate her own body had been thrown back, exposing the ruse.
Her wide-eyed stare swept the area in an instant. She was clearly alone, yet her heart continued to pound and her whole body trembled. Her unnamed enemies had been here while she slept. Why they hadn’t bothered to check the closet was beyond her. The only reason she could see for her narrow escape was that the Lord must have been watching over her.
Pulling her cell phone out of her jeans pocket as she rushed to slam and bolt the door, she paged through the stored numbers until she came to Jackson’s.
One push of a button and it was ringing on his end. He barely managed to say, “Hello,” before she blurted, “They’re here. They found me. What should I do?”
“What? Who? Slow down. Where are you?”
“In my motel room. The door was open. They pulled back the blankets. They were in here. They had to be!”
“Are you alone now?”
“I—I think so. I was hiding in the closet and...”
“Okay—I’m on my way. Keep the door locked. I’ll call the station for you. Don’t come out until they send someone over or I get there.”
“I’m really scared,” she whispered.
“It’ll be all right. Just try to stay calm.”
She heard his voice fade for a minute as if he might have tucked his phone under his chin so he could pull on his boots. “Can—can you stay on the phone with me?”
“Yeah.” He paused momentarily then shouted, “Harold! Call the station and have them send a unit to the Sagebrush Motel, room 12, code 3. There’s been a break-in.”
Cupping her phone in both hands, Nicki sank to the edge of the rumpled bed. At that moment, her choices were to sit or fall flat on her face, and she figured she’d be in better shape if she acted quickly.
It was only after she was perched on the mattress and starting to calm down that she realized she might have inadvertently damaged important clues.
She sighed regretfully.
“You still there?” Jackson sounded concerned.
“I’m here. Just disgusted with myself. I made another mistake and sat down on the bed. I’m sorry if it messed up evidence.”
“Don’t worry. Chances are, whoever was in your room was smart enough to wear gloves,” he told her.
Nicki huffed. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because if it is, it didn’t work.”
* * *
Jackson had nearly reached the motel when he heard sirens in the background of his telephone connection to Nicki. “Sounds like help is arriving. It sure took them long enough.”
“I was about to say the same thing,” she replied. “Where are you?”
“Passing the truck stop. I’ll be there in a couple more minutes.”
“Good. I suppose I’d better go outside and tell your buddies that I’m okay.”
“Only when you’re positive they’re actually coming to the motel. Let them get all the way to your door before you open it.”
Although she acknowledged his orders, he was far from positive she was going to obey. There was a streak of stubbornness in that woman that was part bravery, part foolishness. In sticky situations, he was never quite sure which element was going to prevail.
He wheeled into the motel parking lot and slid his gray pickup to a stop behind the black-and-white patrol car. His K-9 unit shared the headquarters building with the regular police, but their system was separate so he wasn’t that well acquainted with everyone.
Plus, he hadn’t taken the time to change into his uniform. He flashed his badge for identification and nodded a terse greeting as he approached. “Morning. Find anything?”
The taller of the two officers shook his head. “Naw. Just a hysterical female. Probably forgot to latch her door and imagined somebody snuck in.”
“You didn’t turn up anything suspicious? No pry marks on the door?”
“Nope. Not a scratch.”
“Okay. I’ll take over,” Jackson told them dismissively. “Thanks, fellas.”
Nicki was standing outside her room door with her arms folded across her chest when he turned. Her hair was mussed and she looked as if she’d slept in her clothes, but he’d never seen her look lovelier. She was also eyeing him.
“About time. You look a lot more like you belong in Texas when you’re wearing jeans and that kind of boots.”
“I got ready in a hurry,” Jackson said with a welcoming smile. “Apparently, you did, too.”
“Actually, I never unpacked. I decided to sleep on the floor in the closet last night and it turned out to be a good thing. Whoever broke in didn’t spot me.”
He cupped her elbow and led her to his pickup truck, shielding her with his body as if expecting imminent attack. “I want to hear the whole story, from the beginning. What possessed you to move into the closet in the first place?”
“Intuition? An answer to prayer? I don’t know. Since I’ve only been a committed Christian for a month or so, I have no past experiences to judge by. Maybe God put the idea in my head.”
“How can you be sure you locked up properly? If you were in a hurry, the door might have popped open by itself. The other cops said there was no sign of forced entry.”
Her fists rested on her hips and she stood firm, chin jutting. “You sound
like them. I know I locked the door because I’m already paranoid, okay? And I put a couple of pillows into the bed so it would look as if I was still there.”
“Well...” Jackson could tell she was getting upset with him but felt it was necessary to be certain something truly had gone wrong.
“Well, unless pillows can kick off their own covers, somebody else is responsible,” she insisted. “Those blankets were thrown aside just like a person would do if they were trying to uncover a sleeping victim. That could have been me!”
“Okay. I’m convinced.” He opened the truck door and pointed. “Get in. I’ll go get your clothes, tell the manager to leave the room just as it is and schedule a CSU sweep. They probably won’t turn up any clues, but as far as I know, they’re not too busy to give it a quick once-over.”
“Are we going to your ranch?”
“Yes. Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”
Although Jackson hated to be even a few steps from her, he had parked where he had full view of her room so he could also continue to observe her from there. The mussed bed was as she had described it. So was the closet. He swept up the pillowcases filled with her clothing, checked to make sure there was no one hiding in the bathroom and locked the outside door.
Hurrying back to Nicki, he pushed the cases across the seat to her and slid behind the wheel. “We’ll stop at the office and make sure they understand that your room may be a crime scene, then head for the ranch. That okay with you?”
“I was hoping maybe I could stop and get a few more things from my apartment. We left in such a hurry yesterday I didn’t even think to bring a toothbrush.”
“Make a list and I’ll pick up anything you need. We’re not going back to that apartment. At least not this morning.”
He wondered if he’d overdone it with the stern tone, so he chanced a sidelong peek. Instead of the angry glare he had expected, however, Nicki appeared to be stifling a smile. “What’s so funny?”
“You are. You don’t have to bark at me, you know. I’m a reasonable person. All you have to do is state your case plainly and simply. I’ll understand.”
“And then you’ll do exactly as I say?”
This time she did laugh. “I don’t know if I’d go quite that far.”
“Uh-huh. That’s what I figured.”
“But I will do my best to use the brains God gave me,” Nicki assured him. “In spite of everything that’s happened lately, I am learning.”
“Have you made up your mind which side you want to be on?” he ventured smoothly, wondering if she’d been frightened enough to want to confess her deepest secrets.
When Nicki glared at him and said, “I have always been one of the good guys, whether you believe me or not, Detective,” he was sorry he’d been so blunt.
She seemed innocent enough, at least in his eyes, but that was no guarantee she really was. His opinion had already been skewed, and he was getting more and more convinced that Arianna’s dying words might not have referred to Nicki.
But if not her, then whom? And what was the code the woman known as the Serpent had hinted at? Most deathbed confessions were taken as authentic, yet it was always possible that Arianna hadn’t known how close she was to taking her final breath, and had been lying in the hopes of diverting suspicion.
Jackson made an effort to concentrate on his driving while his mind spun like a Texas tornado. Everybody, his boss included, thought Nicolette Johnson was guilty. So what was his problem?
He took a deep, settling breath and shook his head in disgust. If he were honest with himself, he’d have to admit that he was starting to really like this woman. Not only was she naturally pretty, she had favorably impressed him with her courage and fortitude, not to mention her intelligence.
Positioning herself in the closet instead of occupying the comfortable bed had been a stroke of genius—one that might not have occurred to him even on his best day. He was, however, far more capable of defending himself from criminal attack than she was.
That was one of his biggest concerns. Although Nicki was admittedly smart and brave, she was still a lone woman against forces of evil that had already committed numerous murders in Sagebrush. Jackson did know one thing. Until they tracked down the person or persons in charge of the criminal syndicate and put an end to their reign, nobody would be safe. Least of all Nicolette Johnson and her unborn baby.
* * *
Nicki chose to avoid further conversation as they sped out of Sagebrush toward her new job. What was the matter with this man? Why couldn’t he take her at her word when she was as much in the dark as the police were? Good old Arianna. Leave it to her to cause trouble, even after she was gone.
A twinge of guilt pricked Nicki’s conscience. It had occurred to her to pay her estranged cousin a visit and tell her how wonderful it was to be a Christian, but there hadn’t been time. Or had there? She supposed she could have made the time if she’d been convinced it was the right thing to do. Then again, if she had gone to see Arianna recently, there would be an even bigger reason to suspect their complicity.
The landscape changed little as they left the outskirts of Sagebrush. If there was one remarkable thing about south Texas it was its consistency. Trees grew well when clumped near settlements, yet struggled to survive along only seasonally wet streambeds.
Since the spring rains had arrived, there were broad fields of wildflowers, particularly delicate bluebonnets, the state flower. They were not always found in such abundance because everything had to be just right for them to sprout. Happily, this had been a banner year.
Jackson slowed to turn off the highway onto a narrow dirt road. “This is it. Take a good look so you won’t miss the driveway when you come and go.”
“I’m going to be free to do that?” She was astounded.
“You won’t be a prisoner, Nicki. I can’t force you to stay at the house all the time. But I do recommend you stick close to my uncle, particularly when I’m gone.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Why? Is he my bodyguard?”
“In a manner of speaking...Harold’s a retired former sheriff’s deputy. He’s usually armed to the teeth.”
“What should I expect, a Wild West show?” She gave a nervous laugh. “Am I going to have to wear a sunbonnet, bake biscuits from scratch in a woodstove and draw water from a well?”
“Not hardly.”
She could tell from the way Jackson was gripping the truck’s steering wheel that he was tense. That sign of emotion took her aback. Here was a guy who faced explosive devices for a living, yet he was nervous about bringing her to his home. What had she gotten herself into? And, come to think of it, how did he expect her to drive away when they’d left her sedan in town at the motel?
“I just had a thought,” Nicki said. “How will I get my car?”
“Arnie can tow it again if he has to.” Arching a brow, he glanced over at her. “Why? Are you planning a getaway?”
“No. Just trying to get all my ducks in a row. There’s a lot to think about. For instance, what about my bedroom suite and the clothes I didn’t have time to pack? Or the pots and pans in the kitchen? The fridge came with the apartment, but there was some extra food in there and in the pantry, too.”
“The furniture will be stored for you as soon as possible, and I can have the rest of your personal things boxed up. I hadn’t thought about disposing of the food, though.”
“No problem. I’ll phone Pastor Eaton and have him give it to the needy or take it to the teen center for me. That makes more sense than hauling it all out here. Is that okay with you?”
“Sure. That’s real neighborly of you.”
“You act surprised. I keep telling you I am not a bad person.”
“I never said you were,” Jackson replied tersely.
“You mean other than being sure I was in cahoots with my cousin and hiding important clues?”
“Yeah. Something like that.” He nodded toward a single-story, rock-faced ranch house. �
�There it is. What do you think?”
The first words that popped into her head remained unspoken. Words like, plain and sad and stark. What she said was, “It has a lot of wonderful potential. I can imagine climbing roses to match the red tile roof twining around the porch posts. And maybe more bluebonnets with marigolds or something else yellow lining the front walk.”
“Um... Sure. I guess... Harold and I aren’t gardeners, although he did raise some great-tasting tomatoes last year before the weather got too hot.”
“Is that him on the porch?” Nicki asked, pressing her fingertips to her mouth to keep from laughing.
Jackson coughed and stared. “Whoa. It’s either Harold or Pancho Villa. I’m not sure which.”
Nicki lost the battle to remain serious and giggled. The man was wearing an embroidered, black velvet sombrero and vest. A leather bandolero filled with cartridges was draped across his chest, and he was holding a rifle in both hands as if preparing to take part in an old Western movie.
“You did say he had a sense of humor but I was expecting stale jokes, not a vaquero’s costume.”
“Harold is one of a kind. Come on...I’ll introduce you.”
The older man made a deep bow and swept his sombrero off his balding head as Jackson led Nicki up the front porch steps.
“Buenos días, señorita,” Harold said, propping the rifle against the railing so he could spread his arms wide. “I am pleased to welcome you to our hacienda. As they say, ‘Mi casa, su casa.’”
“Thank you.” Nicki offered to shake hands. “It’s my pleasure, Mr. Worth.”
“Please, call me Whatsit. Or Matchless, if you prefer.” He chortled. “Get it? Matchless Worth?”
“Good thing your real name is Harold instead of Les,” Nicki quipped.
The older man slapped his leg and began to laugh heartily. “Oh, I like this one, son. She’s a corker.”
When she looked over and saw Jackson rolling his eyes dramatically, she joined in with a soft laugh of her own. So this was the character she’d been warned about. He had already won her over by going to so much trouble to lighten the mood surrounding her arrival.
Explosive Secrets (Texas K-9 Unit) Page 6
