Taking the Heat

by Brenda Novak

  “Your husband’s crazy. I hope you realize that,” he said.

  She didn’t raise her eyes again, despite the edge in his voice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The man in that precious photograph of yours. He had no business letting you become a prison guard. He should’ve looked out for you better, should’ve—”

  “Kept me safe? Like you kept your wife safe?” Her eyes sparkled with offense, the exact reaction he’d been hoping for. He was spoiling for a good argument to release some of his own frustration and disappointment. But somehow her words sucked the fight right out of him. A picture of Andrea as he’d once known her, laughing and carefree, as in love with him as he was with her, flashed in front of his eyes, and the old pain returned, along with regret and a terrible sense of failure. He might not have killed Andrea, but he hadn’t kept her safe. Judging by the spatter in their garage, she’d died a bloody death, and now she was gone forever.

  He wanted to tell Hadley that he’d tried to protect Andrea, tried to convince her to clean up her life. But even after he’d hired a private detective and gathered proof of the affairs and the drugs—the things she so consistently denied—he couldn’t save Andrea from herself, not even for Landon.

  But those were only excuses. Hadley was right. He’d failed Andrea and their son. He had no right to preach to anyone.

  Reclaiming her purse, he left Hadley alone as he should have in the first place. They were low on water again. He needed to focus on what really mattered, needed to take advantage of the recent moisture from the storm and the sun’s heat to build the still he’d mentioned to Hadley when she’d given him the idea that morning.

  Finding a soft spot, he used a rock to dig with his left hand and quickly reached moist earth. He placed the water jug in the hole, as well as some chunks of cactus he managed to gouge out with the same rock, and covered the jug and cactus pieces with another of Hadley’s plastic bags. Using dirt and rocks to seal the perimeter, he tried to make the still as airtight as possible, then found a small pebble to weigh down the middle, so the condensation underneath would run into the jug, just as the rainwater had slipped down the top side.

  Hadley was sitting in the same place when he’d finished. He ignored her and entered the old church, which had enough of a roof left to provide a little shade. They’d get some sleep and wait until night to move on, he told himself, struggling to shove the messy emotions Hadley’s words had evoked back into their tidy compartments in his head. She didn’t know Andrea, didn’t know how spoiled she could be, how determined to have her way.

  In any case, what was done was done. He couldn’t change the past. He could only do everything in his power to save his son from paying for it in the future.

  AFTER TUCKER WENT INSIDE the church, Gabrielle closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall. What had she done? The expression on his face when she’d said that about his wife…he’d looked as though she’d just laid him open.

  But he’d asked for it! He’d insulted David and spouted off more of his sexist bullshit, and he had no right. David had always been supportive. Gabrielle couldn’t allow him to be blamed for anything, especially when she was the one who’d screwed up their marriage. She was the one whose life felt like this ill-fated journey through the desert—as though she was stumbling around lost, forever searching for something she couldn’t find.

  She sighed hopelessly. None of this was supposed to happen. Being a corrections officer was just a job. But she couldn’t imagine what she should have done differently. Should she have stayed out of it, like Officer Bell, and let Hansen have a free hand? Or let Tucker escape without at least trying to bring him back? He was her responsibility. What kind of person would she be if she shirked her responsibility in favor of her own selfish interests?

  Sweat trickled from her temples. She swiped at it and opened her eyes. About three feet away, the shadow of the church wall met harsh sunlight—dark juxtaposed against light in a neat line on the ground. Too bad the shadows of a person’s soul weren’t so easily demarcated, she thought.

  Standing, she brushed off her pants. They were too dirty to even bother, but it gave her a moment to gather her nerve. Then she stepped into the church. She had no idea whether Randall Tucker was innocent or not. But if he was, what she’d said was pretty hurtful, and he was human and as capable of sorrow and regret as she was.

  The rectangular building was dark on one side, where what was left of the roof provided shelter from the sun. Rubble, mostly brush and dirt and sun-dried bricks from the crumbling walls, littered the open area. Tucker had cleared away a spot in the corner and was lying in the shade.

  Gabrielle felt his eyes on her, knew he wasn’t sleeping. “What were you making a few minutes ago? One of those desert stills you mentioned?” she asked, hoping to reestablish the tentative peace they’d known all morning by ignoring what had happened outside.

  He took a few seconds to answer her, as though he didn’t really want to. Finally he grunted and Hadley interpreted it as a positive response because going to so much trouble to dig a hole for any other reason made no sense.

  “Do you really think it’ll work?”

  “I wouldn’t have built it if I didn’t.”

  “But how much water can we get from something like that? A few drops at most?”

  “Even in the most arid conditions it’s supposed to provide something like a pint a day. And we’re lucky—it just rained.”

  Gabrielle took a deep breath and tried to think of some topic that might draw him out. “What kind of church do you think this used to be?”

  Tucker didn’t respond.

  “Aren’t you going to answer me?”

  “I don’t know anything about old churches,” he said. His voice was full of irritation—obviously he wanted her to leave him alone—but Gabrielle wasn’t satisfied. She needed to ease the sick feeling she’d gotten in her stomach when she’d looked into his eyes and realized she’d just added to whatever pain he carried around inside him. Other than that one monosyllabic answer when she’d asked about his wife, he hadn’t proclaimed his innocence, hadn’t explained what had landed him in prison. Tucker hadn’t tried especially hard to convince her of anything. Yet something enticed her to believe in him on such a gut level she had a difficult time reasoning it away.

  “I think it might be one of those mission churches,” she went on. “You know, the ones the Jesuit missionaries built in the late sixteen hundreds.”

  Again he didn’t answer.

  “That would make it over three hundred years old. Amazing it’s still standing, isn’t it?”

  No response.

  Gabrielle considered leaving him to brood, or whatever he was doing, then tried once more to reach him. “I’ve seen a couple of other mission churches. There’s one in Tumacacori, just south of Tucson, that’s in pretty good condition, and another in Cocóspera, Sonora.”

  She walked around the building, pretending to be absorbed by the ruins. “When I was pregnant with Allie, David took me to see them. This whole area used to be the northwest border of New Spain. He said the desert on both sides of the Mexican border is—”

  “Am I supposed to care about this?” Tucker interrupted.

  Gabrielle let her breath go and shook her head. What was the point in trying to befriend him? Of course he wouldn’t care about anything she said. Why would he? They were both thirsty, hungry, tired and miserably hot.

  Cursing whatever weakness had brought her into the church, she turned and headed for the door.

  “David’s your husband?” he asked before she could reach it.

  Pride tempted her to keep right on going, but she was too much of a peacemaker to reject what might be an offer to let bygones be bygones. “Not anymore,” she said, pausing at the entrance.

  “If you love him so much, why’d you divorce him?”

  She turned to face him. “What makes you think I did the divorcing?”

  “In
stinct.” He sat up. “Am I right?”

  Feeling defensive again, she tried to fan herself with one hand as she leaned against the lintel, but there was no relief from the heat. “Maybe.”

  “That kind of maybe is always a yes. Why did you leave him?”

  Gabrielle preferred not to delve into such a personal subject. Tucker still seemed rather combative, and things with David were…complex. He was her ex and yet she loved him dearly. She loved him dearly, yet she’d never go back to him. How could she expect anyone to understand such conflicting emotions?

  When she didn’t reply, he scowled. “Oh, so we can talk about me, but your past is off limits?”

  “We haven’t talked about you,” she pointed out. “You weren’t interested in conversation, remember?”

  He gazed at his injured hand and gingerly moved his fingers. “You asked me if I murdered my wife, and I answered you.”

  “Don’t most people want to know the answer to that question? You could be dangerous.”

  “You’re the one with the weapon.”

  “It certainly hasn’t done me any good,” she mumbled, and slid down the lintel to sit on the floor. With her finger, she drew designs in the hot dirt.

  “That’s because you’re judging the situation from your own reality. If someone pulled a gun on you, you’d do what you were told. You still have a lot to lose. You don’t know that some things are worse than death.”

  “Like living in prison?”

  He sighed. “Like losing the life you knew, losing your child, because of a crime you didn’t commit.”

  She wiped the dirt from her finger on her pants and undid the top button of her uniform. She’d kept as much of herself covered as possible to protect against burning, but now she felt as though her clothes were trapping the heat, roasting her.

  “I don’t know you’re in that situation. I only have your word,” she said, eager for any distraction.

  “I haven’t hurt you. I haven’t even touched you. Doesn’t that tell you anything?”

  Gabrielle didn’t want to think about what his behavior told her. He’d been heroic, all things considered. And now that she felt fairly confident that he wasn’t going to hurt her, she hoped he was guilty of the crime for which he’d been imprisoned. There was solace in justice, rightness in appropriate consequences for misdeeds. But injustice…punishing a man for something he didn’t do…

  She couldn’t imagine how that would scar a person. If she thought Tucker was innocent, believed it with all her heart, she wouldn’t be able to face knowing what was going to happen to him when they caught him. Wouldn’t be able to face knowing what he’d gone through already.

  “I’m sorry I asked about your wife,” she said.

  He laughed softly. “You’re finally figuring out that we’re better off staying out of each other’s lives.”

  “I figured that out a long time ago. I’m the one who could get fired for overfamiliarity with an inmate.” She tried fanning herself again, but she was still in direct sunlight. It was useless. “And quit calling me Hadley.”

  “What do you want me to call you?”

  She thought about hearing her first name on his lips. “Never mind. Hadley’s fine.”

  He rested his elbow on one knee and let his injured hand dangle. “So why’d you leave David, Hadley?”

  She looked up, surprised. “What about taking your own advice?”

  “Sometimes I act against my better judgment. Are you going to tell me?”

  She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I left him because he deserved more than I could give him,” she said, distilling her problems with David into their simplest form.

  “So you did it as a favor?”

  His sarcasm bothered Gabrielle. “I just wasn’t happy, okay?” she snapped.

  He said nothing for a few seconds, then murmured, “Tell me why you weren’t good for him.”

  She gave up trying to stir the air and went back to drawing in the dirt. “I just—” she created a smiley face, ruined it and drew a frown instead “—I just wanted to be friends. We work better that way.”

  “Does he agree?”

  “I think so.”

  Tucker chuckled. “I’ll bet.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I can’t imagine him being happy about taking a step back.”

  “Why not? You don’t know either of us. What makes you think he wanted anything different?”

  He fixed her with an unswerving gaze. “Because I’d want something much different if I were him.”

  The gravity in his voice made Gabrielle forget about the dirt. All day she’d scarcely been able to get a word out of Tucker, but she had his attention now—so completely she felt swallowed up in it. “And what would that be?” she asked.

  He raised his eyebrows appraisingly. “All of you or none at all.”

  All of her…A drop of perspiration ran between Gabrielle’s breasts. She felt its slow descent as though it was Tucker’s finger and could only imagine what giving all of herself to this man might be like. He wasn’t easygoing or fun-loving, like David. He was hard-edged and angry most of the time and usually rather cynical. But there was at least a small chance that he had good reason for the chip on his shoulder, and she didn’t doubt him when he said he didn’t believe in doing things halfway. Being loved by him would, from every indication, be a passionate, all-consuming experience…a wonderful experience if he was as normal as she suspected.

  Swallowing hard, she shoved a selfconscious hand through her snarled hair, knowing she must look terrible.

  A flash of white teeth told her he’d noticed that she was suddenly aware of him sexually. His eyes held hers, as if he meant to assure her that he didn’t care about a little unruly hair and dirt-streaked skin. Which only added to the tingling sensation that had started low in her belly.

  “All or nothing could be interpreted in a lot of different ways. It could be scary if you’re obsessive,” she said. “Do you mean you’d never let a woman leave you?”

  He made a sound of disgust and the intensity of the moment eased. “I’m not obsessive. My wife wasn’t about to leave me, Hadley. She needed me to support her habits, and I—I was trying to work things out for our son’s sake. I’ve never hurt a woman. I never would. But then you know that already, or you wouldn’t still be sitting there.”

  She hadn’t moved, but the ground and the sun were both too scorching to remain where she was for much longer. Or maybe it was the way Tucker had looked at her when he said “all of you or none at all.” She seemed to be burning inside as well as out. “You told me not to take anything for granted. Maybe I should tell you the same thing,” she said.

  A faint smile softened his face. But then he shoved some nearby rubble farther away and stretched out again, and his expression hardened into the sober planes and angles more typical of him. “You’d better get out of the sun and go to sleep for a while. We’ll start moving once we’ve collected some water and it cools off a little.”

  Gabrielle stood. Now that she was inside with him, outside seemed that much more barren and lonely. Fear of scorpions and snakes, of the unknown, made her reluctant to let him out of her sight. But after his reaction to finding her in his arms this morning, she doubted he’d be particularly open to sharing his shady corner. He obviously expected her to return to the courtyard.

  “I—I’ll be outside,” she said.

  Eyes closed, he looked as though he’d already fallen asleep.

  “Unless you want me to stay in here with you,” she added hopefully.

  He glanced up and scowled, and Hadley got the impression he was about to refuse. But then he surprised her.

  “Stay if you want,” he grunted. “It’s up to you.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  TUCKER SLID OVER and braced himself for Hadley’s close proximity. He didn’t want to be tortured by the memory of how it felt to lose himself in the arms of a woman, by the promise of what it
would feel like to lose himself in the arms of this woman. But desire for exactly the things he told himself he didn’t want warred so powerfully with his self-control, he couldn’t refuse her a place next to him.

  When she sat, she left as much space between them as possible in the limited shade, but she was still far too close to allow Tucker to relax. The tension in his body notched up, and with it his irritability. He’d been wrong to succumb to the sweet appeal in her voice. He should have insisted she go outside so he could sleep.

  “What I wouldn’t do for a bath and a change of clothes,” she muttered.

  Her face was beautiful despite her lack of toiletries. He liked the way she smiled, the way she sometimes looked at him under her long lashes, as though trying to read him without letting him know it. It had to be the sexiest look he’d ever seen. But that was the problem.

  “At least we both have long pants and long sleeves, or we’d be fried to a crisp,” she went on, filling the silence with what sounded like more nervous chatter.

  Tucker watched her blow into the opening of her shirtfront and suddenly hit upon an idea he felt sure would make her withdraw. “Long pants and sleeves don’t help much in the shade,” he said.

  She blew down her shirt again. “I guess we can’t have our cake and eat it, too.”

  “Why not? If your uniform’s bothering you, take it off.”

  Her eyes widened, riveted on his face. “What?”

  He bit back a smile. “You’re wearing underwear, aren’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then take off your uniform—your shirt, anyway. You need to cool down or we’re going to run into real problems with dehydration.” To lend credence to his words, he unzipped his prison jumpsuit and shoved it off his arms, removed his T-shirt and tossed it aside. The air hit his naked, perspiring torso and helped cool him—a little. He leaned back in relief, thinking he’d been right to strip down, whether his ploy to scare Hadley off worked or not. What he’d said about dehydration was frighteningly true, and he felt better already.