by Joanna Wayne
“I think our walk just wore her out,” Durk said. “But I’ll see that the nurse checks on her.”
Durk didn’t look up as Meghan walked away. He joined in the animated camaraderie with his family while she was left to deal with the agonizing fear that she’d just traded a lifetime of love for the opportunity to get herself killed.
* * *
MEGHAN POURED HERSELF a cup of hot tea the next morning and glanced back at the kitchen table where Durk was engrossed in faxes. “Would you like a refill on your coffee?”
“Yeah, thanks,” he said without looking up. “Now that everyone has left for church, we can get back down to business.”
But he’d been all about business even before they’d left. The verbal clash last night had thrown a suffocating damper on their relationship. Now it seemed that all he wanted was to get his time with her over and done with.
She set his coffee in front of him and slid into the chair next to his, irritated that he’d seemingly been able to push the kiss from his mind while it dominated her thoughs. It had set her on fire. Had her job really meant so much to her that she’d walked away from Durk rather than cut back on the danger? What kind of danger junkie was she?
Durk pushed one of the fax printouts of her phone activity in her direction.
“The names that have a line through them are the ones that Jackson Phelps feels don’t deserve further scrutiny at this time.”
She looked at the first name that had been marked out. It was a pharmacy. The corresponding address was near her condo. She agreed that it was likely irrelevant.
“What about the names with asterisks by them?”
“Those are the phone numbers that Jackson considers to be possibly relevant. As you’ll notice some of the phone numbers couldn’t be cross-referenced with names or addresses.”
She scanned the list.
Roderick Farmington.
Dwight Richmond.
Evan Byers.
Jack Little.
And the list went on. The frustrations were piling on like building blocks, and the tower was about ready to tumble and take her down with it. She could be staring at the name of Roxanne and Ben’s killer and still be clueless.
The headache returned, and she was starting to wonder if it might be more stress related than a side effect of the injury. She let the sheet of paper slip through her fingers and fall to the table. “Nothing looks familiar.”
“Maybe we should drop it for a while. It’s obvious that memory retrieval can’t be forced.”
“Agreed. I think I’ll try out the swing on the front porch. I need some fresh air.”
“Are you dizzy?”
“No, Durk. And if you’re thinking of keeping the nurse on duty for my sake, it really is a waste of money.”
“The nurse basically told Mother and me the same thing. But she’s here for another day for Aunt Sybil, so if you change your mind, page her.”
“I will.”
The phone rang as Meghan made her exit. She hesitated to see if it was Lucy on the line.
Durk followed the hello with a quick “She’s here. Can I ask what this is about?”
His expression darkened as he handed her his phone. “It’s Detective Smart.”
She didn’t need the detective’s harassment right now. She skipped the small talk. “If you’re calling to see if I’ve remembered anything that can help you, the answer is no.”
“Actually I’m calling to tell you that some workmen found your car at daybreak.”
“Where?”
“It was submerged in a creek that runs behind an old warehouse just south of I-20.”
Her blood ran cold. If things had gone the killer’s way, her body would have been in that car.
“We had it pulled from the water a few minutes ago,” Smart continued.
“Have you seen the car?”
“I’m standing next to it right now. We found a suitcase in the trunk that I’m assuming is not yours.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“It’s full of what appears to be human bones.”
She reeled at the news. “Where do you go from here?”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
* * *
WITHIN THIRTY MINUTES Meghan was in the passenger seat of Durk’s car and they were heading toward her office for her first trip back there since Ben’s body had been found.
Their meeting with Detective Smart was at his request. Holding the meeting in her office was her idea.
Since Durk was the first to see the crime scene, she wanted to see it through his eyes. Once she’d moved back to her condo, there might not be another chance to have him walk her through what she’d found.
In fact she might not ever be face-to-face with him again.
The detective was waiting inside her office when they arrived. He had little new information that he could—or would—share.
The bones in the trunk had been delivered to forensics for further examination. Meghan’s car had been towed to the evidence lot. Neither Ben’s computer nor hers was in the car.
Bottom line—they were no closer to indentifying the killer than they were before recovering the vehicle.
The only positive was that Smart had stopped treating Durk like a suspect. She figured the chief of police had gotten wind of that and put an immediate quietus on it. When a detective accused a man of Durk Lambert’s status of a crime, he’d best have convincing evidence to back it up.
“We have a homicide and a suitcase full of bones,” Smart said. “Now all we need is a viable suspect.”
“Any real clues as to his identity yet?” Durk asked. “Like fingerprints or motive?”
“No comment.”
Smart turned to Meghan and pulled a grainy computer picture from his pocket of a stout young man with shaggy hair that hung to his shoulders. “Do you recognize this man?”
“No. Should I?”
“Does the name Edward Byers mean anything to you?”
“Edward? No. But I apparently made a phone call to an Evan Byers last month.”
Smart’s brows arched and he gave her that gotcha look.
“Hate to bust your bubble, Detective, but I’m not holding out on you. I don’t remember the call. I got the name from the cell phone company, probably the same way you came up with it. Are Evan and Edward related?”
“They’re brothers—identical twins. You’d never know it. Evan is clean-cut, muscular, nice-looking. At least he is in his Facebook photos.”
“What do you have on the Byers brothers?”
“Not much on Evan. Clean record except for some unpaid parking tickets.”
“How old are they?” Meghan asked.
“Twenty-nine. Evan’s been divorced for over three years. No kids.”
“What does he do for a living?” Durk asked.
“Nothing at the present. He’s one of those brainiacs, was working as a biochemist for a pharmaceutical company until three months ago when the government stopped funding the grant for his cancer research project.”
Meghan made a few notes on a pad she’d picked up from what had evidently been Ben’s desk. “What’s the scoop on Edward?”
“Not so squeaky-clean. He’s been arrested on numerous charges dating back to high school, ranging from shoplifting to writing hot checks on his brother’s bank account. The most recent arrest was last year. He did six months’ jail time for stalking a UT coed. He’s out on parole now.”
Meghan put down her notepad. “Have you questioned him?”
“No, but I will once I find and arrest him for violating the conditions of his parole. I’ve got an APB out on him.”
“Have you talked to Evan?”
“I’m on my way to his house when I leave here. Hopefully he’ll cooperate without my having to bring him in for official questioning.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d keep me informed as to what you find out,” Meghan said.
“And I’m orde
ring you to do the same for me. If I find out you know the identity of Ben’s killer and don’t tell me I swear I’ll see that you lose your P.I. license.”
She stretched her neck without breaking eye contact. “I wouldn’t blame you, Detective—were I to do that.”
“And don’t try to contact either Evan or Edward Byers on your own, Meghan. That’s also an order.”
“Is that all?”
“For now, except that you can officially have your office back. The CSU has what they need. If I decide I need access to your files, I’ll get a search warrant.”
“I’m sure you would.”
Smart scanned the office area again, slowly, as if he expected some vital clue he’d missed earlier would jump out at him. When he turned back to Meghan his demeanor seemed far less provoking. “I’m sorry about Ben,” he admitted. “It’s tough losing a partner. It’ll make you want to do everything you can to get the man who killed him. But don’t. Just give me the name and let me take care of it.”
“Thanks, Detective.”
“I hear the funeral’s on Tuesday,” Smart said. “I guess you’ll be there.”
“Most likely.” Though she wasn’t sure yet how she’d face his wife when she couldn’t even remember Ben.
She waited until Smart had left before she walked around the desk and sat down in Ben’s chair.
She picked up the framed picture of him and a striking young woman she assumed was Mary Nell.
Speak to me, Ben. Tell me who killed you. Help me find him. And if my mistakes or misjudgments caused your death, forgive me. Please forgive me.
If his death were her fault, she would never forgive herself.
“Tell me what you saw when you walked through the door, Durk. Walk me through what happened and try to leave nothing out.”
Durk covered it all. The gore. The chaos. The cops pointing their guns at him.
He went through everything step by step. Nothing he said took her closer to finding the killer.
In spite of the tension between her and Durk, she couldn’t wait to go back to the ranch.
* * *
CAROLINA SAT ON the top step, her full skirt pulled around her so that it fell to her ankles. Belle was in her lap, playing with a set of plastic keys and laughing at Tommy, who was tumbling in the grass.
Her neighbor from a few ranches away sat next to her. R. J. Dalton was an argumentative old coot who managed to make enemies of almost everyone who knew him with his outspoken opinions on politics, religion and life in general.
Sometimes he got on Carolina’s nerves, too, but today he was in a rare sociable mood and actually carrying on a decent conversation. Or perhaps it was just that she needed the diversion.
Not only was she concerned about Durk, but Damien had been so quiet and distracted at lunch that she knew he must be worried about Durk, as well.
“I’m thinking of selling my land,” R.J. said.
“Do you need the money?”
“Nope. But I’m not gonna live forever. No use holding on to it.”
“You’re not sick, are you?”
“I’m too ornery to get sick. You know that. I’m just thinking of selling, that’s all. If you or your sons are interested, give me a call. Make an honest offer, I’ll think on it.”
“Don’t you have children, R.J.?”
“You don’t see any of them hanging around pouring honey on my biscuits, do you?”
“That goes two ways. When’s the last time you called them?”
“You can say it plain, Carolina. I was a lousy father. I can’t undo what’s done. Besides, that’s got nothing to do with selling my land.”
“I know you don’t need the money, and you can’t take it with you. Call your sons. Offer the ranch to them.”
“Why do you think I want to sell it? I don’t want them showing up after I’m dead like vultures looking to pick my bones clean. They’d probably end up bulldozing beautiful farmland and ranch land to build a subdivision with look-alike houses and a golf course running through my favorite fishing hole.”
“How many children do you have?”
“By which wife?”
“All of them.”
“Five sons. And a daughter who’s likely as much a hellcat as her mother is.”
“Write them all a letter and invite them out to see you,” Carolina said. “Get to know them. Give them a chance to get to know you.”
“Nah. It’s too late for that. This dog is all done huntin’. If you’re interested in the land, give me a holler. Otherwise I’ll find another buyer.”
He stood to go back to his old beat-up pickup truck. If someone didn’t know better, they’d think he was financially destitute. Carolina knew better.
She couldn’t resist leaving him with a final thought. “You might find out that your children are the very best of you, R.J.”
“But I might find out they’re the worst.”
Durk and Meghan pulled up just as R.J. was driving away. A black sedan Carolina didn’t recognize followed them into the driveway. It parked behind them, and two men she’d never seen before stepped out. Carolina had no idea why they were there, but she was almost certain the reason wouldn’t be to her liking.
“Come here, Tommy,” Carolina said firmly. “Let’s go find your daddy.”
“Don’t wanna go inside.”
She hurried down the steps and grabbed his hand, but Durk and the two men were already facing each other on the walk.
“Are you looking for someone?” Durk asked.
“I’m looking for my daughter. She’s approximately nine months old. Her name is Belle.”
Carolina’s chest constricted, squeezing her heart until it felt like it would crack from the pressure. Tommy yanked free of her hand and ran to Durk. She tightened her arms around Belle.
“What’s your name?” Durk asked.
“His name is Juan Perez,” the other man answered for him. “I’m his attorney, Felipe Torres. We were told the baby’s foster parents are here and we’d like to talk to them.”
Carolina had to force herself to breathe as Durk invited the two men inside. She’d always known there was a chance Belle’s biological father would come for her. She’d tried to prepare herself for this moment ever since sweet Belle had come into their lives.
But she wasn’t ready. She’d never be ready, no more than she could be ready to give up her heart.
Chapter Sixteen
When Meghan woke up Tuesday morning and realized that the amnesia still held her memories hostage, she knew it was time to leave the Bent Pine Ranch and go back to her condo in the city.
She was a stranger whom Durk had insinuated into his family’s lives at the worst possible time. They were in a state of anxiety as they waited on the results of the paternity test to determine whether this Juan Perez was indeed baby Belle’s biological father. The easy warmth and teasing were gone. They did not need Meghan and her problems added to their own.
She’d made the decision and laid the groundwork so that there would be no reason for Durk to protest—not that she was convinced that he’d want to. She’d called the complex manager yesterday and had them send in a cleaning crew to ready her condo.
She’d made arrangements for a car to pick her up on Thursday for her appointment to see Dr. Levy and to get her sutures removed. And she was packed and ready to go home.
She had only one request of Durk and that was that he stop by the funeral home so that she could pay her last respects to a friend and coworker she couldn’t remember.
Dressed and ready to go, she went searching for Durk and found him in the kitchen having coffee with Carolina. She told both of them her plans at the same time.
Durk didn’t protest until Carolina had said her goodbyes and left the room. “Nothing like waiting until the last minute to spring this on me, Meghan.”
“Your family doesn’t need a guest to entertain at a time like this.”
“If you think I’m leaving you at the condo
alone with the killer still on the loose, you’d best think again. It’s not going to happen.”
“I can’t stay here.”
“Then we’ll stay somewhere else, or I’ll stay with you at the condo. You choose, but I’m not leaving you alone.”
“Why are you doing this, Durk? You make it impossible for me to leave and impossible to stay. We’re constantly torn. The attraction is maddening, but the things that push us apart are even stronger. There’s no way to win.”
“And no way I can lose you to a madman. Give this a few more days, Meghan. Give the amnesia time to run its course so that you know who you were when it all backfired and fell apart.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I camp outside your door.”
She knew he meant it. That was Durk. It was the cowboy creed. He wanted her safe. He just didn’t want her.
But there was a limit to how much rejection her heart could take. “I’ll give it two more days,” she said. “After that, you have to let go and I have to find a way to keep myself safe. I’ll buy another gun, put triple locks on all the doors or hire a bodyguard if it comes to that.”
“Do you still want to go to the funeral home?”
Actually, she didn’t. It wouldn’t give her closure. It wouldn’t bring Ben back to life. It wouldn’t stop the killer from killing again.
“I have a better idea,” she said, the plan already forming in her mind. “Let’s pay a visit to Evan Byers.”
“Detective Smart ordered you to stay away from him.”
“I’m not under arrest. Neither is Evan Byers. He’s not even a suspect. He’s just someone whose phone number showed up on my phone. My talking to him is not breaking any law.”
“That doesn’t make it wise.”
“If you don’t want to go, just say so, Durk. I can get a car and driver.”
He stared at her as if he’d like to wring her neck—or kiss her. With Durk it wasn’t always easy to distinguish between the two.
“I’ll meet you at the car in ten minutes,” he said. “But remember that I’m doing this under protest.”
* * *
EVAN’S HOME WAS in an eclectic neighborhood of houses built in the 1930s to 1940s and newly constructed townhomes. His was of the former category, a neat raised cottage with painted shutters on the windows and pots of greenery hanging from the porch banisters.
