by Sharon Sala
He nodded, although he still failed to see why this was pertinent to his trip. But he was a polite man, and he continued to listen as she talked.
“Two crews, one in a chopper and the other on the ground, came upon a real-life drama in progress. They got every bit of it on film. We’re about ready here. Would you like some coffee?”
“No, but thank you,” Luis said.
“Okay, here goes.” Jennifer punched Play. “The man is Wilson McKay. He owns a bail bond business here in Dallas. The woman is Cat Dupree. And all this was filmed on the McKay ranch.”
Luis began to watch with ambivalence, but was soon caught up in the panic and fear on Wilson McKay’s face. And when the camera panned to the back end of a pickup sticking out of a stock pond and he realized McKay believed his woman was inside, he was hooked.
He watched McKay run into the water, then dive under. Every time he came up for air, Luis exhaled along with him, and when he went back under, Luis caught himself holding his breath and imagining the panic he would feel trying to find Conchita in the depths and darkness.
“How did the truck get into the water? Was there an accident?” Luis asked.
“No…no…there was a tornado, remember? The tornado dumped the truck in the pond.”
Luis’s eyes widened as his focus returned to the screen. Without thinking, he made the sign of the cross and watched as Wilson McKay finally crawled out of the water in obvious despair. Even though the only sound with the taped piece was the newsman’s voice-over, when the camera closed in on Wilson’s face, Luis felt physical pain from the man’s silent scream.
“Ah…Dios mio,” he whispered, watching as Wilson put on his boots and then began circling the pond toward the dam.
“Where is he going?” Luis asked.
“Just watch,” Jennifer said.
Suddenly McKay disappeared off the side of the dam.
Luis thought he’d fallen. But before he could ask, the perspective switched to a view from the air. He saw McKay pick up a boot at the bottom of the dam, then clutch it to his chest. When McKay suddenly started walking away, Luis wondered if he had seen her body? No, wait. He knew she wasn’t dead. Then what?
McKay pulled something from a bush. It looked like a piece of cloth.
Dear God, was that a piece of her clothing? Luis wondered, all the things that made him a good detective running through his mind. When he saw McKay suddenly look up, he realized the man had just become aware of the chopper. When he saw McKay turn and stare off into the distance, he scooted to the edge of his chair, watching as the camera panned the horizon, giving him the feeling that he was seeing everything through Wilson McKay’s eyes.
It took a moment for Luis to realize he was seeing movement, then several more before he could tell he was looking at a woman staggering through the debris left by the storm.
The longer he watched, the more certain he became that, except for the mud on her body, the woman was naked. Then the camera panned back to the expression on McKay’s face. The joy Luis saw was so vivid it brought tears to his eyes. He saw McKay running, and even though he couldn’t hear him, he knew McKay was calling her name. By the time they embraced, Luis was crying unashamedly.
“Yeah,” Jennifer said. “It does it to all of us…every time we watch.”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Luis said. “How did she get out of the water?”
“Oh, that’s another thing. She was never in it. Said she woke up without a stitch of clothes, lying faceup on the windshield of the truck. They think she was sucked out of the truck when the windshield popped. She and the windshield went one way, while the truck did a swan dive into the pond.”
“And she’s all right?” Luis asked.
“Well enough to get married a few days later.”
Luis didn’t know what to say or what to think. He did know that he didn’t want to find out later that this woman was guilty of anything but bad luck—or good fortune. It all depended on how one viewed what he’d just seen.
He stood abruptly. “I thank you for showing me this. Please make sure Detective Bradley has my apologies for my late arrival, and tell him I hope to speak to him tomorrow.”
“Sure thing.”
“Where did you say this woman is now?”
“On a ranch west of Austin. I’m friends with a woman who knows Wilson’s secretary. She told my friend that McKay and Dupree are both quitting the bail bond business to live on the family ranch.”
Once more Luis’s suspicions returned. Quitting? Not many could afford to do that—unless they’d come into a bunch of money. Like the money Tutuola was reported to have had.
Was that what had brought Dupree back to Mexico the second time?
Now he knew he could not leave Texas without talking to this woman. Even if she had survived a terrible ordeal, as far as Luis was concerned, her troubles were far from over.
Jimmy Franks knew the minute he saw the old barn in the middle of nowhere that he’d found a good place to hide. The gate into the pasture was hanging on one hinge, with only a piece of baling wire holding it upright. The trail from the road to the barn was overgrown with weeds, which meant no one came here often. Privacy. Exactly what Jimmy wanted.
He was tired and hungry and needed a fix.
With one quick glance up and down the deserted highway, he opened the gate, drove through, then re-fastened it behind himself before heading toward the barn at a fast clip.
The main door was off the barn. He drove inside without caution, only to realize that he’d driven over something hidden in the weeds. By the time he got out, he could hear the air escaping from all four tires.
“Son of a freakin’ bitch!” he screamed, and then walked back to see what he’d run over.
The iron teeth of a spring-tooth harrow looked a bit like the maw of a growling lion. He kicked all four tires, then the fenders and doors, until the car was as dented as the tires were flat.
“Great. Just fuckin’ great,” he cursed, then popped the trunk and dragged out his gear. He downed the last two sausage biscuits left over from breakfast and finished off the last two beers in a six-pack.
“Time for dessert,” he said softly, as he tossed the empty cans aside, and pulled out what was left of a bag of crystal meth.
Five minutes later, he was so high he wouldn’t have needed another vehicle for a getaway. All he had to do was spread his wings and fly.
Sixteen
It had been seven hours since Delia and Charlie dropped Cat off at the ranch. During that time, she’d mostly busied herself nervously doing whatever chores she could do and waiting to hear from Wilson again. He’d called her once about two hours after she’d gotten home, and now the silence was worrying her. The message regarding the false death report of Jimmy Franks was on the answering machine, but that was in the home office and she didn’t see the blinking light.
When she’d first arrived, the silence of the usually lively home was telling. But, to her delight, she’d gotten a packet of wedding pictures in the mail from LaQueen and John.
She’d spent a good hour looking at them over and over, remembering that feeling and how certain she’d been that what she was doing was right. It was, however, a bit strange to see herself in that pink dress. It made her look like a woman. She rarely thought of herself that way.
What a difference the love of a good man could make in a woman’s life.
To keep from thinking about what might be going on at the hospital, Cat had put away the food they’d been going to eat, fed the cats, put the jars of canned green beans in the cellar and snapped the last of the fresh ones that Dorothy had been going to can. She put them in the cooler on the back porch to stay fresh and then walked through the old house, listening to the silence.
The pictures on the walls and the love that held this family together were, for her, a physical presence she could feel in every room.
As she paused in the hallway, she began scanning the dozens of photos hanging on the wal
ls. It was instinctive for her to search for Wilson’s face first in each one. The progression of the years was recorded—from his first baby pictures to what appeared to be formal photos taken for high school graduation. Even as a little boy, Wilson had stood out from his siblings, as if he’d known he would walk a different path. In looking at them, she couldn’t help but wonder if the baby she was carrying would look like Wilson or be a combination of both of them.
She thought of the pictures she’d had on her wall. Criminals, every one of them sporting every form of tattooed art a person could envision.
Without thinking, her hand went straight to her belly in a protective gesture. There were no baby pictures of Cat left in this world. No birthday photos where she was blowing out the candles on her cake or looking at presents piled on a table, with friends and family standing nearby. There weren’t any pictures of her sitting with her family around the Christmas tree or running wild outside in the yard on an Easter egg hunt.
Emotion shattered her focus as she thought about all the growing up she’d done on her own. Without guidance. Without love. Most especially without love. Her jaw tightened, and her eyes narrowed, almost in anger.
“Don’t you worry, my baby. You are going to belong to a big, loud family who might drive you crazy but who will never let you down. What happened to me won’t happen to you. I promise.” Her fingers clenched on her belly, as if trying to hold on to the beginnings of the tiny life inside.
Moments later, her cell phone rang. When she saw it was Wilson, she answered before he could ask.
“Hello. I’m fine.”
The husky chuckle in her ear made her smile.
“Hello to you, too,” Wilson said. “Dad’s still out, but his vitals are good.”
“What about your mom?”
She heard him sigh and knew that he was worried.
“As Dad would say, her fur is standing on end and her claws are out.”
“In protective mode, I assume.”
“You can’t imagine,” Wilson said. “She watches everything they do to him like they’re trying to kill him, not save him.”
“She’s just scared,” Cat said. “Believe me, I know the feeling.”
There was a moment of silence as Wilson absorbed her words, only now realizing what she’d gone through while he was fighting for his life.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
Cat frowned. “For what?”
“For fighting for me when I couldn’t fight for myself.”
Cat’s vision blurred. “Oh, Wilson. You did the same for me, time and time again.”
“Yeah…that’s what people who love each other do.”
This time it was Cat who got the message. “I know. I’m slowly but surely learning that, thanks to you and your family.”
There was a moment of silence while he absorbed that, and then he asked, “Have you eaten anything?”
“Um…yes.”
It was her hesitation that gave her away.
“Let me rephrase that. Have you eaten anything that’s stayed down?”
“No.”
“Mom says to tell you to have some tea and dry toast or crackers…and to sip the tea. It can be hot or iced, but no coffee.”
A single tear rolled down Cat’s cheek as she struggled with an answer.
“You take good care of your mother, do you hear me? Even now, when she’s so worried about Carter, she’s still thinking of others.”
“Yeah, and I didn’t know until I met you that we took all that love and attention for granted.”
“Then we’re good for each other, aren’t we?”
This time it was Wilson’s voice that broke.
“Baby…I’ve known that since the day we met. I just had a hard time convincing you I was right.”
“So is this where I say thank-you for not quitting on me?”
“Yes.”
Cat sighed. “I do love you, Wilson McKay.”
“Right back at you, baby. Hey…Mom’s got a look on her face that I recognize all too well. There’s hell to pay somewhere. I’d better go see what’s up. Take care of yourself, and call if you need me. Don’t forget, I’m not an only child. There’s a bunch of us. Any one of them can come and stay with her, too.”
“Okay. Call me.”
“You know it.”
She was still smiling when the dial tone sounded. She dropped the phone back in her pocket, then moved into the living room. The sun was setting. It would be dark before long. She glanced out the front windows, scanning the area for a sign of something that didn’t belong. Satisfied that all was well, she went to the kitchen to find something to eat.
She turned on the television to the local news, listening with half an ear as she dug through the pantry and settled on a can of soup to go with her toast.
But her culinary foray quickly ended when she heard a familiar name. She turned abruptly, then upped the volume, listening in disbelief until the bulletin was over.
“For the love of God,” she muttered, then grabbed her cell phone and quickly dialed Wilson’s number.
She expected him to think something was wrong, especially since they’d just spoken. She wasn’t surprised when she heard tension in his voice.
“Hello? Catherine?”
“Yes, it’s me. We’ve got a problem,” she said.
“What’s wrong?”
“Jimmy Franks isn’t dead. The police are saying that the ID was premature, and that they have proof the man found beaten to death in his motel room was definitely not him. And they know he’s on the run because he abducted a woman from a mall parking lot, then dumped her in a junkyard and took off to God knows where with her car. The only good news is that he didn’t kill her.”
“Damn it,” Wilson muttered.
“Ditto,” Cat said.
At that point the home phone began to ring.
“Hold on, Wilson. Someone’s calling. Don’t hang up.”
“Okay,” he said, his mind racing.
When she came back, he could hear the disgust in her voice.
“You’ll be relieved to know that a Lieutenant Jakowski of the Austin police department thought it prudent to let you know that the man who tried to kill you in Dallas isn’t dead after all. I told him we’d already heard it on the news and thanked him so very much for the warning, however late. He did say that he’d called earlier and left a message. I didn’t check the answering machine. Maybe he had, but it’s still a case of dragging their feet, not wanting to admit they issued a false death report.”
Wilson had to grin. Cat’s sarcasm was evident.
“They didn’t have to call me, you know. It’s not their job to pass along messages like that.”
“I don’t care. All they had to do was pick up a phone as soon as they knew for sure. For God’s sake, Wilson. That creep could be anywhere, just waiting for a clear shot at your head.”
“Just keep your pretty head inside, okay?”
“And you keep yours on your shoulders.”
“Duly noted. I love you. Thanks for the update.”
“I love you, too. You’re welcome.”
Then they both laughed.
“I don’t know about you, but I feel better already,” Wilson said.
Cat’s chin jutted. “I don’t, and I won’t until that man is behind bars or six feet under, whichever the hell manages to come first.”
“It’s gonna be okay,” Wilson said. “Charlie is on his way in, and I’ll be heading home as soon as he gets here.”
The tension in Cat’s shoulders began to ease. She suspected Delia was responsible for the reprieve.
“Drive safe. I’ll see you soon,” Cat said.
“I will, and just to be on the safe side, make sure all the doors and windows are locked.”
“I’m going to check them now,” Cat said, and hung up.
Once she was satisfied that she was well and truly locked in, she ate her soup and toast, and was prowling for something else to
eat when it dawned on her that she wasn’t feeling sick anymore.
“So I have to be pissed to be able to eat now? What the hell is that all about?” she muttered, and moved into the living room to watch for Wilson’s return.
Cat was in the shower when Wilson got home and didn’t hear him until he was in the bathroom, calling her name.
“I’m in here!” she yelled.
He yanked the curtain back, then grinned.
Cat arched an eyebrow, then grinned back. He was stark naked and obviously happy to see her.
“Well…hello to you, too, mister. Are you looking for someone?”
Wilson grinned as he stepped inside, pulling the curtain shut behind him.
“Not anymore,” he said, then cupped her cheeks and tilted her head upward. “Pucker up, baby…Daddy’s home, hungry and hot for Mama.”
Cat laughed aloud, slid her arms around his neck and turned him so that he was standing directly under the shower head.
“You’d better not drop me,” she warned, as he pulled her legs up around his waist.
“Then don’t let go,” he growled, and smothered her lips with his own.
She heard him groan, then sigh, and knew exactly how he felt. No matter what went wrong with the world, this thing that was between them was strong enough to cure anything.
He started with kisses—hard and demanding, then soft and sensual.
“Put me down,” Cat finally begged.
When she was on her feet, she took him in her hands, soaping then rinsing his erection in a slow, steady rhythm that nearly brought Wilson to his knees.
“Cat…wait,” he mumbled, as he tried to hold on.
“Can’t,” she said, and knelt in front of him.
“Sweet mercy,” he said, as she took him into her mouth.
She was one sweet lick from driving him insane when he thrust his hands into her hair and pulled her up, then out of the tub. He carried her to the bed and was about to lay her down when she flinched.
“Wait, Wilson…the bed…I’m wet.”
His eyes were slits, his jaw hard and clenched.
