Carson snorted. “Watch out for the old coot, Shannon. He’s a flirt. I don’t know why Aunt Leona puts up with him.”
“Because I’m a wonderful lover, young man, that’s why.”
“Buck!” Leona set a plate of biscuits on the table and thumped him on the head with her fingers. “Behave. She’s not used to your outrageous behavior.”
Shannon giggled at the horsing around between the three.
Like yesterday, the food was good, the company better. She needed time with other people; she’d been alone for too long. It must be nice to have a close-knit family to joke with, one that would hold up under considerable teasing. Susan enjoyed listening to them. She gathered from the conversation that Leona and Buck would be leaving soon. Carson had just returned, from where they didn’t say, and he’d be running the café and motel with the help of a few hired people. He needed to hire two more.
Customers began filing in, and Susan rose to leave. Leona pulled her aside, her brow furrowed. “I don’t know what’s going on in your life, child, but if you need a safe haven, you’ll find it here.” She patted Shannon’s hand. “Remember my words.”
Voice too choked at the kindness to speak, Susan nodded.
The older woman smiled and then turned toward the counter and started serving coffee.
Carson took Shannon’s arm and escorted her out the back door. She wondered why his touch evoked warm sensations in her belly when that of all other men, since her divorce from Dewayne, caused fear and revulsion.
He stopped at the driver’s side of her van and opened the door. “No more camping out in isolated spots, all right?”
“Okay.” She grasped for something to say, to prolong this moment. She liked this man, but she had to go. “Thank you for last night and the breakfast.”
“You’re welcome. Be careful.” He turned and walked back inside.
****
Susan stared into the flames of her campfire. She’d left Siesta almost a week ago. After backtracking to Santa Fe and Madrid, New Mexico, she’d turned west again and ended up at the campground in Chaco Canyon. She’d toured the ruins of several Anasazi pueblos. A book she’d purchased in the visitor’s center fed her imagination about the life of these pueblo people. Fascinating! She loved history, and this was an area she knew little about. Relaxing in her lounge chair and sipping coffee, she let her mind conjure up visions of ancient people going about their evening chores a thousand years ago. She could see women bending over their cooking pots while the men tilled the crops that had once grown plentifully due to irrigation and rainfall running off the canyon walls. Children’s laughter rang across the canyon floor as they ran and chased each other in games. Tonight the pueblos were mere shells of their former glory. Did the spirits of their people visit in darkness, mourning the loss of their past way of life?
At one time they’d been prosperous, trading turquoise for needed supplies. Several theories abounded as to the cause of their extinction. Some rumored they became cannibalistic. Susan preferred to believe they’d left the area and blended with the other pueblo Indian tribes in the area—the Hopi, Laguna, Acoma, Zuni, and others.
On occasion she’d felt the presence of their spirits. Goose bumps had peppered her arms and almost driven her inside her van. She’d persevered and allowed the haunting atmosphere to wash over her. Tonight the tall canyon walls surrounded her like a lover’s arms, peaceful and calm. She sighed. If only the spirits could make decisions for her.
She needed to make up her mind what to do—whether to settle or to keep running. Could she stay in a place like Siesta and remain undiscovered? Maybe, but probably not. Carson appeared to be an intuitive man, trustworthy, one who would protect anyone who needed him. Leona’s words rang in her ears. “If you need a safe haven…”
What if Dewayne found her and hurt Carson or his family? Was settling for awhile worth putting them in jeopardy? She didn’t know what to do.
She gazed into the fire, its movement hypnotic, while she swallowed her comforting brew. The soft sound of foot drums accompanied by a flute reached her ears. Now how did she know what foot drums sounded like? Oh yes, from the CD she’d purchased at the gift shop. She glanced toward her van. Had she left the disk player on? No. She’d turned it off just before stepping outside. Hair rose on the back of her neck. She looked around expecting to find reenactment dancers approaching. No one was in sight. She listened. Was it her imagination? No. The sound echoed clearly on the slight breeze.
As a child she’d seen spirits or ghosts that appeared at odd times and places. Though their presence had frightened her, they hadn’t been threatening. Eventually she’d accepted their company as normal. Then during her early teens, they’d left her alone.
As the beat grew in volume, the flames in the campfire separated to form dancing warriors. One warrior broke away from the group and stalked toward her, a lance held in his hand. The lone feather decorating his hair danced in the wind. His dark eyes held her transfixed as he grew closer, becoming more life-sized with each step. When he stood before her, she leaned back in her chair to distance herself, too afraid to try to stand and run.
He shook the lance. His voice, low and guttural, called, “Trust, daughter.”
Susan jumped as the warrior disappeared, his shape pulling apart into nothingness. A crow cawed on the canyon top above. Her eyes returned to the fire and then back to the canyon wall. The crow called again.
****
Damn the probation officer and damn Susan—the bitch! May she forever burn in hell. She’d disfigured him, and now he was on the run.
His probation officer had taken one look at his burned face and reached for the phone. Dewayne knew the game was up. Before the man could pick up the receiver, Dewayne popped him in the face and took off at a run. He’d barely made it out of the building as officers dove to catch him. A block away, he lost them in the foot traffic on the street. He was wanted in connection with the explosion and fire. Susan had set him up, sure as shit.
Thank God he’d stashed a wad of money and could pay cash for the cheesy motel he checked into. The place didn’t have surveillance cameras. He’d be safer here than at the local four-star inn.
He yanked the ugly red floral bedspread off the bed and flung it into a corner. He’d seen that television show about dirty hotels. He sure as hell didn’t want to wallow in someone else’s semen. Fully dressed, he stretched out on the sheet covering the lumpy mattress. It sagged on the side next to the night table, threatening to dump him on the floor. The spotty carpet didn’t look inviting. No telling what had been spilled on it over the years. Someone had dropped a hot iron, leaving a permanent imprint. With the TV remote in his hand, he scooted to the center of the bed and stuffed both pillows behind his head.
The news blared from the set’s speakers. He froze. Damn. His mug, without the scars, of course, splashed all over the screen on Fox News. “Dewayne Holt, recently released from the Illinois State Prison, is wanted by authorities for questioning…explosion and fire…believed to be headed to Ohio…”
His chuckle turned into a rip-roaring laugh. Fooled you. I’m in Kansas, dickheads. Of course, they thought he’d head straight for his brother’s. What kind of fool did they take him for?
“Body found in the blaze is not that of Susan Lawton.” His laughter died, and he turned up the volume. “At this time the remains of a woman between thirty and thirty-five years old have not been identified, but they do not match Miss Lawton’s most recent medical records. Sources say extensive dental and plastic surgery was required after the last vicious attack by her ex-husband, Dewayne Holt. Miss Lawton is wanted for questioning…”
“Son of a bitch!” He hurled the remote at the far wall. It shattered, and parts fell to the floor and slid behind the television set. A loud pounding from the room next door bounced the picture on the wall. He flew off the bed to retaliate but stilled as the announcer said, “Fire investigators say the trigger that caused the blaze was set from within
and was a deliberate act.”
“Well, no shit. Took you experts a week to figure that out?”
He paced the room, restraining the urge to hit the walls, to break something. It wouldn’t do to have someone knocking on the door, remembering his scarred face.
So, Susan was alive. He snickered. His naive little wife had developed claws. Guess she’d finally grown some backbone, too. Good. Nothing worse than a whipped-down woman. He didn’t want her cringing in a corner when he caught up with her.
They’d once been a happy couple. Then he’d gone into debt and gotten involved with Leo and his illegal activities. Dewayne enjoyed the money, the drugs, and the women. Susan rode his ass, cried, and threatened to leave him. No woman walked out on him. Marriage was forever. His mama had drilled her Bible teachings into him. When he’d finally had enough of Susan’s whining, he hit her to shut her up. She’d gone to the police, and then the feds. The last time he’d hit her, he’d meant to kill her.
The drugs fed a wickedness inside him to the point that he lost control. He’d enjoyed hurting her—and screwing her—as she begged him to stop. He shuddered at the memory of her tight little body and how much fun it would be to break her again. One last time.
****
Shannon pulled into a fast-food place in Grants, New Mexico. Few cars surrounded the place. It was after dinnertime, and her stomach growled loudly enough to be heard over the radio. It wasn’t her favorite burger place, but they had good salads. Plus, she’d be able to use their free wireless internet service. She’d not been online the entire week of camping in Chaco Canyon. The area was too isolated for cellular service. She needed an update on the explosion and fire.
Susan carried her tray to a booth in a less crowded section. Anxious to check the news, she started eating while her laptop booted. She’d bookmarked the Chicago newspapers and scanned the articles in each one until she found what she looked for—the identity of the body in her house. Body found in fire not that of Susan Lawton. Shannon breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God her parents now knew for a fact she wasn’t dead. The identity of the individual is yet unknown. The body is of a woman thirty to thirty-five years of age. Actual cause of death will be determined after an autopsy is performed. Authorities are asking Susan Lawton to come forward to answer questions. The fire was intentionally set from within the home. Her ex-husband has been identified as a person of interest. Just released from…
The fire was set from within? Susan shivered in revulsion. Had Dewayne somehow gotten inside and killed Lauren before setting the fire that caused the explosion? Her stomach lurched at the horror Lauren must have experienced. Dammit. Why didn’t she get out of the house like they’d planned? Had Dewayne set the fire after killing Lauren, or had Lauren rigged the house to blow up? Susan might never know.
****
Carson, on his way to bed, paused when a vehicle stopped outside his cottage. Shit. Can’t you read the No Vacancy sign? He was dead tired but stepped back into his shoes and started for the door. Hans waited, his eyes following Carson’s every movement. Someone knocked.
He opened the door.
Shannon Langley stood outside, her expression hesitant, as if she struggled to decide whether to stay or run.
Carson resisted the urge to whoop. It wouldn’t do to scare her away. Plus, being so glad to see her wasn’t necessarily a good thing. It’d be too easy for him to become attached to this woman.
She looked great, her hair loose and brushing her cheek. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “I’m sorry to stop by so late.”
“It’s not a problem.” He stepped back. “Come in.”
“No, but thank you.” She looked back toward the road. “I see you have a No Vacancy sign, but I wondered if I could park my van here again.” Head tilted, she grinned and leaned down to scratch Hans’s neck. “I thought about the abandoned motel but feared Hans would rat on me.”
“Got that right, huh, boy?”
The dog woofed and his tail beat a blissful rhythm on the carpet.
“You need electricity?”
“Yes, please, but this time I insist on paying.” She removed her wallet from the purse hanging from her shoulder.
“You can pay on one condition.”
Her smile wilted and brow furrowed. “What condition?”
“You’ll come in for breakfast in the morning.”
“You’ve got a deal.”
Chapter Six
Susan didn’t know exactly what had prompted her to return to Siesta. Was it Leona’s encouraging words? Or those of the Indian warrior? She snorted. Not likely. Lordy, she must’ve been drugged, to have imagined the dancers in her campfire and hear the music. Maybe somehow she’d sampled a tad of peyote. Yeah, like it dropped from the heavens into my cup of coffee. No, more likely the stress of her situation caused her imagination to run wild.
She hopped out of bed and turned the thermostat up to sixty-eight degrees, then hunkered back down in her sleeping bag to wait for the van to warm up. It was decision time. She needed an excuse to stay here, one that wouldn’t arouse suspicion. Health leave? That was an idea. She’d pretend to be getting her strength back from some illness. A specific disease would have to wait, as nothing in particular came to mind. Hopefully he wouldn’t quiz her.
Maybe he’d need a website designed for the motel and restaurant? If he couldn’t afford her services, she could always work for camper hookup and meals. She’d have a place to stay for a month or so and would have time to explore the area, too.
The café was in full swing when Susan entered. Hans woofed in welcome. Carson carried plates to tables but glanced up and flashed a smile. Her lips twitched in response.
Leona bustled over and hugged her. “I’m so glad you came back, child.”
“Thank you, Leona. This is such a friendly place I couldn’t resist returning and getting to know the people and the area better.”
She didn’t fool the older woman. One eyebrow rose a notch, but she smiled. “Good, good. Have a seat over there.” Patting Susan’s shoulder, Leona eased Susan in the direction of a table at the back of the room. “Carson will be with you in a minute. Want some coffee?”
“I’d love a cup.”
Susan hung her purse on the back of her chair and sat down, scanning the room. She noticed several people studying her with interest. For some reason their perusal didn’t scare her. Maybe it was the family atmosphere in the place. From the conversations and comments back and forth between tables, most everyone knew each other. One person in particular—an attractive, thirtyish woman moving among the tables and refilling cups—eyed Shannon intently. She wore tight jeans and a T-shirt that emphasized smallish breasts that jiggled freely as she moved about the room. When the brunette caught Susan scrutinizing her, Susan smiled at her and broke eye contact. So, it appeared Carson had found a waitress.
A cup of coffee appeared on the table in front of her. “Good morning.” She glanced up as Carson set another cup across from her. “Know what you want to eat?”
A few minutes later he returned with two plates of food and sat down with a sigh. “Man, I needed a break. Food service is tiring work.”
Susan could imagine, what with standing all day. When she looked up from her plate, she caught Carson studying her. Heat rose to her cheeks. She resisted the urge to cover the faint scars on her face. The surgeon had assured her they looked like nothing more than age lines.
“You look good this morning—rested.”
She relaxed. Yeah, she’d slept well. Making a decision helped. “Thank you. I did sleep well.” She grinned. “I guess having Hans nearby for protection eased my mind.”
He clapped his hand to his chest and laughed. Shannon’s heart thumped at the sound—and stopped all together at the dimples that appeared in his cheeks.
“I’m sorely wounded that you doubt my ability to defend and protect damsels in distress.”
She giggled. A first for her in several weeks. Her humor vanished
. She didn’t want anyone to be responsible for her care, to go against Dewayne if he came for her.
“Shannon?”
She stiffened and met his eyes.
“Are you running from someone? Someone trying to hurt you—an abusive husband or boyfriend?” Yes, the man was intuitive, maybe too much so for her to stay here.
“No, what makes you think that?”
“The expression on your face.”
“Oh, that. I was remembering something from my past.”
His furrowed brow indicated he wasn’t convinced.
“Really. I’m on health leave from my job and plan to tour this area.”
“So, we might see more of you around here?”
“More coffee, honey?” The new waitress appeared between them with a pot in her hand.
Shannon wasn’t sure who the “honey” was directed to, but the woman never took her eyes off Carson. Her expression resembled a cat about to enjoy a bowl of cream. Shannon watched Carson to see if he encouraged her interest. She bristled at the blatant sexual suggestiveness of the other woman. Surely Carson could see through her machinations and realize her intent. Was she staking a claim?
“Yes, Gina, thanks.” He raised a brow in question in Susan’s direction, and she nodded. “Fill both our cups.”
“You’re welcome, honey.” She leaned forward and poured, her breasts on a level with Carson’s eyes. When Shannon caught him looking, his face reddened.
Smile of satisfaction on her face, the waitress filled Shannon’s cup and moved away to other customers.
Shannon couldn’t resist asking, “She wasn’t here the other day. Is she new?”
“Yeah. I’d hoped you’d come back and take the job.”
“Me?” Shannon looked around the room. She could do it, if she had to, but to maintain her image of being on health leave, she’d be safer not to appear to need work. “I appreciate the thought, but I wouldn’t want to take a job from one of the locals. Plus, I’m on paid leave, so I don’t need the money.”
A Stolen Chance Page 5
