Jessie had to be alone. She had to reread the letter. She had to think about her father. She had to weigh what Ross had said. It sounded so logical. And yet she didn’t believe him. At least she didn’t believe everything. Or maybe it would be hard for her to believe anyone at this point. She just wanted it all to be over.
But her father had given her a charge. She now knew only a little of the agony he must have gone through. She wiped a tear from her eye. He’d obviously loved the ranch, loved the other members of the family. Loved his wife. Regret and anguish had been in every word of that letter. No wonder he’d sought solace in drink. No wonder he’d barred his heart.
She wished Ben were here. She wished it with all her heart. She desperately needed to love something at the moment. And needed to receive it. Unconditional, uncomplicated, honest love.
Jessie didn’t know how long she stayed in her room, remembering, thinking.
She looked at the clock. It was after one, and their plane left at eight in the morning. They would have to leave the house at six. Yet she knew she couldn’t sleep. Perhaps a glass of milk would help.
She put on a robe and went to the kitchen, padding silently on bare feet past Ross’s room. She paused for a moment, wanting to knock, then bury herself in his arms, but she couldn’t tonight. He was still holding something back. She felt it to the marrow of her bones.
How can you have love without trust?
And yet she trusted him with her life, if not her heart.
The house was dark, and it took several minutes for her eyes to adjust. Before going to the kitchen, though, she looked out the window. A dark sedan was parked down the street. Chills ran through her. Was she really doing the right thing in not going to the police? And yet she still didn’t have evidence of a crime in Arizona, except for the one her father committed fifty years earlier.
Then she felt Ross’s presence next to her.
“Jess?”
“Someone is out there.”
He looked out. “We don’t know it’s the same car.”
“I do,” she said.
He moved behind her and put his arms around her, pulling her back to lean into his body. He felt so good. So solid. She knew then she wanted to stay there. Maybe he had told her everything. His hands massaged the back of her neck. Gentle hands. Loving hands.
Yet she couldn’t trust them. She gently pulled away. “I came out to get a glass of milk.”
“I’ll stay up,” he said. His hand caught hers.
She held it for a moment, feeling its warmth, its strength. The now-familiar heated tension stretched between them. His finger traced the contours of her face. But then he dropped it. “Get your milk,” he said gently.
Jessie nodded. It wasn’t what she wanted. But she knew he was right. She was emotionally volatile. But she knew she wouldn’t sleep now. Instead of milk, she made a pot of coffee, and together they silently watched throughout the night.
The ease between them was gone as she prepared a quick breakfast of toast and jam. Electricity continued to shimmer between them, though, and the emotional distance Jessie tried to establish made that attraction even more compelling—the human foible of wanting what you can’t, or shouldn’t, have.
The sedan was still there in the morning, but there was no sight of occupants. But after they pulled away and went several blocks, they saw the car again. They had discussed that earlier, though, and she had called Sol. They arranged to meet at a busy restaurant. Sol parked on the other side of the restaurant, and Ross and Jessie went through one of one set of doors to another, got in his car, and drove away.
Jessie knew that it wouldn’t take long for someone to discover they’d returned to Sedona, but hopefully it would be too late.
She tried not to glance at Ross, but it was impossible. Neither of them had packed any clothes. She had a toothbrush in her handbag. She would buy whatever was needed in Sedona, but she didn’t expect to be there that long. Just long enough to see whether they could find the bonds, or whether they’d been destroyed in the fire. And pick up Ben.
She and Ross had talked during the night about alternatives. Should they add several people to their trip into Oak Creek Canyon? Sarah? Alex? But neither of them could completely eliminate Alex from the list of suspects, nor did they want to put Sarah in danger. Someone had gone to a lot of expense, and the danger of exposure, to find those bonds.
If they dragged the police in, the whole sorry story would come to light. It could ruin Marc and others. And there could be nothing there at all. Why raise hopes? Or scandal?
He’d then suggested that he go alone. Her flat “No” had ended that discussion quickly. If there was danger, she would share it.
The skies had cleared and the flight to Las Vegas was uneventful. They quickly obtained the rental car. “It’ll just take us an hour longer than it took to get to Sedona from Phoenix,” he assured her.
Jessie nodded, and slept part of the way, then offered to drive while he did the same. To her surprise, he agreed.
They neared Sedona at three, having gained several hours in time changes. Ross took over the wheel and drove to the cantina. He led her inside, ordered food, then went over to huddle with his friend, the owner. Then they both disappeared.
Jessie sat and waited, then she rose and walked around, stretching her legs. It was an odd hour, and few people were inside. She went to the window and looked out, wondering whether she’d ever stop looking again.
Nothing unusual. Then her gaze went to a bowl full of matches. She snatched several books, as she usually did in restaurants, and dropped them into the pocket of her slacks. A souvenir. A memory, too. Though she wasn’t entirely sure how many memories she wanted of this summer.
Both the food and Ross appeared at the same time, and she went back to the table. They both ate quickly and without many words. The tacos were probably wonderful, but now they were tasteless. She ate because she knew it would be a long day, not because of appetite.
When he’d paid the bill, they walked out to the car. As she stepped inside the passenger side, she saw a shovel and other tools in the backseat. And a rifle.
Ross apparently saw concern on her face. “Just a precaution,” he assured her. “There are snakes in that canyon.”
Jessie wondered whether he referred to the two-legged kind or those that crawled. But the sight of the rifle was reassuring. All her pacifist inclinations had faded that night when she was almost run off the road.
He drove down the main road to Oak Creek, keeping his eyes open again for a tail. He didn’t see one.
“Tell me about the cabin,” she said.
“There’s damn little left.”
“Is any of it still there?”
“The chimney,” he said. “I’m not sure about how much of the hearth survived. The heat must have been terrific. It could well have incinerated anything close to the surface.” He paused, then continued, “The Clementses still own the land. They’ve never thought of rebuilding, though. Too many ghosts there. But no one has suggested selling it, either. I think the specter of those bonds kept the property in the family. I always thought it rather futile.” He shrugged.
“Was it large?”
“Just a two-room cabin from what I understand,” he said. “Old Hall Clements built it as a retreat from the family, not for it. This was all wilderness then, a great place for hunting.”
“But everyone knew about it?”
“Oh, the family, certainly. But unless they were invited, it was off-limits. Perhaps that’s why Heath selected it. He planned to bury the bonds there, then meet Lori for their getaway. Your father must have seen Lori leave and followed her.”
A chill ran down Jessie’s back as she imagined her father on this same road, following his wife, wondering whether she was going to betray him. She remembered his rages. He must have been in a towering one then.
Ross didn’t say anything more as they drove approximately five more miles, then he turned off onto a dirt ro
ad that ran beside the creek and crossed a narrow, rickety-looking bridge. All signs of civilization disappeared as they bounced along an old overgrown drive. He turned again into a barely visible track.
The car bounced along overgrown weeds. “I wish I had my truck,” he said. But he deftly maneuvered the car between branches and over rough ruts.
“I’m glad you rented it,” she said. “If it were me, I’d probably never be able to rent a car again. Not after destroying the last one, too.”
He chuckled. The sound warmed the chill inside her.
Then the overgrowth became too much, even for his driving. He parked the car. “We’ll walk the rest of the way.”
She nodded. She slung her handbag over her shoulder and stepped outside. She watched as he stood beside the car, listening. A buzz of insects. The rustle of branches as a squirrel retreated to a higher limb. Then he opened the back door, hesitated, then took out the shovel and a large box of tools.
She reached over to take the shovel. He gave that to her, but kept the box of tools. “It’s heavy,” he said. Then he took the rifle out and shouldered it with his other hand.
He led the way to the ruined cabin. Piles of stone lay in heaps. Remains of a fireplace. She hesitated at what once might have been a doorway. An eerie sensation ran through her. She shivered. Her father had stood here, or near here. He’d done something that had forever changed his life.
“Jess.”
She turned around. Ross was directly behind her. He rested the rifle against a large cottonwood, then put the box of tools down. She was holding the shovel like a rifle, and he took it from her. He put an arm on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“No,” she said honestly.
He pulled her to him. “When I was a kid, Cullen’s twins, Hugh and Heath, brought me up here to ‘treasure hunt.’ I was thirteen. They were three years older. We dug up all sorts of unlikely places. Then they left me here. I was scared out of my wits, though I would be damned before I would admit it. I saw ghosts everywhere.”
Jessie was surprised. First of all, she couldn’t imagine him scared. Secondly, she was surprised he admitted to it. Nothing about him had endeared him to her more.
For the first time since yesterday afternoon, she reached out and took his hand. “What happened?”
“Sarah drove out. When I didn’t come home, she’d pried the information out of the twins. It was the first time I was glad to see her.”
“But you didn’t show it?”
“No. That wouldn’t have been manly,” he said with a wry twist to his lips. “But I think she knew it. Several days later, she gave me a horse of my own. I knew how to ride. Every kid on the reservation did, but I’d never owned one. Hell, I never owned more than two pairs of pants at a time.”
His fingers closed tightly around hers.
She looked up at him. “You love her very much, don’t you?”
“Yes.” So simply said. Yet with so much feeling. He’d thrown her off in the beginning with his reserve, with his reluctance to join in any family activities, his insistence on calling Sarah by her given name. She should have known better. She should have sensed how much feeling lay underneath the exterior.
And she knew then that whatever he hadn’t said had been to protect Sarah. Had Sarah sought to cover up her brother’s crime by starting a fire?
She leaned into his arms, feeling the strength in him. He didn’t love easily, but he loved powerfully.
It was he who pulled away, but not before his hand lingered on her arm, and she saw the warmth in his eyes. “I think we’d better look for those bonds before it gets dark. There really are spirits here. I saw them,” he said seriously with only the smallest trace of humor showing. He hesitated, the amusement fading, then added, “Maybe we can put those ghosts to rest once and for all.”
She nodded. “I just want to end the speculation. I have no expectations of finding anything.”
“You’ve never had any, have you?” he said, his fingers touching her chin. “I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
His touch burned all the way through her. She felt as if she were melting. All her anger, all the hurt faded. He hadn’t done anything to hurt her; he had done what he had to do to protect someone he loved. How could she fault that?
He leaned down and kissed her lightly. Except for the promise. She felt that promise with every beat of her heart.
Then she backed away. It was getting late. Perhaps if they found those bonds, her father would rest easier.
She watched as he walked over to what was left of the chimney. A huge pile of rock lay around it. He leaned down and started to toss away the rocks that had tumbled down during the past fifty years. She joined him in throwing the rocks aside.
Not a breath of air stirred. The sun had lowered but the temperature was still hot. Fool’s errand, she told herself as sweat pooled on her face. When she thought she couldn’t stoop one more time, they reached the bottom of the pile.
Ross kneeled and brushed away dirt from what must have been the fireplace foundation. They found burned fragments of brick, and she knew it must have been an extremely hot fire. Ross used a spade to dig under the rubble. How large a package could be secreted under a hole in the hearth?
Minutes seemed to turn into hours, then she heard a clank. Metal on metal. Ross worked a few more moments, then started pulling on something. His hands emerged with a long, narrow metal box. Heath must have hunted long and hard for something that would fit into the opening. It looked like a long safe-deposit box with a cover.
Ross just held it for a moment, and she stared at it. Part of her had never believed the bonds could have survived all these years. She looked around. The walls of the canyon rose up in back of them. The river gurgled in the late afternoon. Several birds flew from their perches in the trees. So peaceful. Yet echoes of violence seemed to linger. She tried to shake off the feeling.
Ross was still kneeling, looking down at the box. Pandora’s box, she thought. She’d had the image earlier and she’d been right. Then he looked at her and, surprisingly, he winked. It was so out of character, so whimsical at the moment that her heart lightened.
Ross picked up the box, finding a key in the lock. The metal box apparently was not meant to keep anyone out, but to protect the contents from the elements. “Should we?” he asked.
“We should,” she said. She felt the stirrings of excitement.
He stood, straightening his long, lean body, and she knew he was a far greater treasure than anything they might find in a box. He’d rolled up the sleeves of the white shirt he’d worn all day. Sweat had dampened the shirt and also the unruly dark hair. He used one of his hands to run his fingers through it, leaving a small trail of dirt on his forehead. He was really quite irresistible, and she fought to turn her attention back to the box that had caused so much tragedy.
He led the way to a log where they could sit. He looked at her again, his hand touching hers briefly, then opened the metal box. A sheaf of papers were rolled up inside. He carefully unrolled them to find elaborately designed certificates. He looked closely at one, then handed one over to her.
Just as she started to take it, she heard a loud crack, then an oath from Ross. Red flowered his shirtsleeve. Before she had time to think, he took her hand and practically threw her behind the log, throwing himself over her. They hunched down as another shot whizzed by them, then another.
Their rifle. They had left it leaning against a tree near the chimney.
He whispered into her ear. “Can you crawl into the underbrush? I’ll try to circle around and get the rifle.”
She started to protest. “You’re hit.”
“A scratch,” he replied. “Do as I say.” This time he didn’t give her a chance to protest. He started snaking away behind her. A bullet hit near her and she tried to merge herself with the ground. Then she saw Ross move from tree to tree. So apparently did the shooter. He would never make it. She remembered Marc’s wound. A rifle,
too. Whoever was shooting was a good shot. She moved behind a rotted log, then looked up. Ross was systematically moving toward the rifle, but there was an open space he would have to cross. He would be in the open with no protection.
Her stomach clenched. He would never make it. She felt in her pocket for the matches she’d picked up earlier. The bonds were beside her, spilling over across the ground; Ross had apparently let them go as he’d grabbed her.
Another shot. The shooter’s attention was all on Ross now.
He was almost to the clearing. Now. She spread the bonds out on the log. Then she took one and rolled it up. She lit the end and watched it flame like a torch. She stood up, holding the flaming bond over the others. It might buy Ross a few seconds.
“I’ll burn them,” she yelled.
The shooter turned toward her. “Noooooo,” he yelled.
Cullen!
A silence. The flame was eating its way through print, its heat singeing her fingers. When it went out …
The gun was aimed at her now.
“Blow it out or I’ll kill you,” Cullen said.
“No. Not until you put the gun down.” She saw his face turn toward Ross’s direction as he started to sprint across to the rifle.
The blaze burned her skin. Ross needed more time. She did the only thing she could. She dropped the torch and another bond flamed up. The rifle wavered, then Cullen aimed again. Toward her. A loud crack. Pain ripped through her. Then as she started to fall, another crack.
Everything went black.
Light crept into her consciousness. She wanted it to go away. She wanted to sink back into darkness, into nothingness.
But a voice wouldn’t let her. “Jess,” it called. Over and over again.
Go away. It hurts too much. She could scarcely breathe. Every small breath was agony.
“Jessie.” A softer voice. But just as insistent.
Go away.
“Dammit, Jess. Don’t go being a coward on me now.”
She opened her eyes, slowly at first, Reluctantly, certainly. The light was painful. Dissolving shapes.
Then she felt her hand. It was clasped tightly, even painfully.
Perfect Family Page 36
