by Susan Stoker
It was hard to tell how long she would be gone from her home. Knowing she’d be safe with Cade made her feel better and fed her strength to get through this unfolding nightmare.
Curious, her seventy-year-old next door neighbor, Carolyn, came over to meet her outside. “Hey, Kara,” she said, lifting up her cellphone, “I got somethin’ that might help you and the deputies here.”
She shook Cade’s hand, introducing herself. Fiddling with her phone, she said to them, “Yesterday I saw this black pickup pull into your driveway, Kara. We have a neighborhood block watch around here and I didn’t recognize it, so I took some photos.” She gave them a pleased look. “Maybe this is the guy that tore up your house,” and she turned the screen so Cade and Kara could look at it.
Kara gasped as she saw the man. “That’s him!” she cried, giving Cade a stricken look. “That’s him! He’s the one who attacked me at the school!”
Cade’s eyes narrowed. “Great photo, Carolyn. You did good—very good!”
“Oh, Carolyn, these are so helpful!” Kara said, watching as Cade took the phone and then slid his finger through all the shots she’d taken of the intruder. He held it at an angle so she could see them as well. Throat tightening, she winced as she saw the same angry looking eyes. Fear trickled through her once more. The man could have killed her instead of merely breaking her nose.
“I didn’t recognize him, Kara. He was new to our block.” Carolyn’s dark brown eyes twinkled. “I also got his license plate number. Take a look at the last photo, Deputy Patterson,” she wriggled her finger toward her cellphone, another pleased look wreathing her wrinkled face.
Cade’s mouth twitched as he studied the clear, close-up shot of the license plate. “You’re a gem, Carolyn. Do you mind if I send these photos to the sheriff’s department right now?”
“No, of course not. Do you know this guy?”
“No, ma’am, I don’t. We’ll put his face through our facial recognition software and hopefully it will come up with a hit. Thank you, again.” He pulled out a business card from his pocket, handing it to Carolyn.
“And until he’s caught,” Kara said to Carolyn, “Deputy Patterson doesn’t want me staying here at my home.”
“Makes sense,” Carolyn said. She lifted her chin and asked, “But how safe are the rest of us, Deputy?”
“I’ll know more after we ID this perp,” he told Carolyn. “Deputy Larson over there with the forensics team is going to take your report. He’ll get your phone number too. Once we get back to headquarters, he’ll call and keep you updated on any developments. My gut tells me someone’s sent him after Kara but we don’t know why yet. I think all you neighbors need to remain vigilant and alert, just in case. Call us immediately if you see anything out of place, or there’s an unknown vehicle and driver casing your street.”
“Oh,” she drawled, “we’ll do that for sure. There are always a lot of break-ins here because we live in Clayton. I’ll contact my other neighborhood watch people on the block, send the photos I took to their email accounts, and we’ll stay on guard.”
Wincing over Carolyn’s “wrong side of the tracks” comment, Kara knew it was because of her father’s unbending prejudice against the poor and middle class of Clayton. These good, hardworking people were the backbone of the community and they struggled daily to keep their heads above water. Reaching out, she hugged Carolyn. “Thank you for all you’ve done. This is so helpful.”
Cade smiled and handed the phone back to Carolyn. “You’ve just saved us a lot of time in trying to find this guy. Thank you.”
“Well, the way I see it, if we don’t look out for each other, we have nothing,” Carolyn said.
*
Kara felt so much weight lift off her shoulders later at the Kenedy County Sheriff’s Department. Cade had taken her into the busy building and then to his small, quiet office. There, Carolyn’s emailed photos quickly identified her attacker. His name was Javier Fuentes, a known drug-runner with the Gomez drug cartel that operated out of the Mexican border town of Reynosa. This town was directly across the Rio Grande River from McAllen, Texas. The area was a hotbed of drug trafficking activity. Cade took her to a wall map, pointing out where the Mexican town was located along the border with Texas.
“Unfortunately,” Cade told her, moving his index finger along Interstate 69 East out of Harlingen, Texas, “a lot of drug runners take this route. Outside of Raymondville, the interstate stops and drops to a two-lane highway, Route 77, which is where Clayton is located. They use 77 a lot to move drugs through this particular area because it’s fairly unpopulated. Usually, it’s a nighttime activity and they’re pushing their cocaine, heroin, and marijuana along this route. They can speed along at a hundred miles per hour with no other traffic in either direction. The whole of Kenedy County is owned ranchers, with a lot of pasture lands, small knolls, and trees here and there. There’s no towns along this route, which is why they like to use it.”
“You’ve got your hands full then,” Kara said, studying the map, “because that highway goes straight through the middle of the county.”
“Yes,” Cade said. “It’s a low population county and from a drug enforcement perspective, we are overwhelmed. The Gomez cartel is launching drones offshore from boats in the nearby Gulf. They remain close to the U.S. coastline and they’re dropping bags of cocaine onto the beach. Drug soldiers like Fuentes wait at a pre-arranged point and retrieve the drone shipment. From there, they drive up Route 77 through Sarita and Rivera and then on to the larger cities east and north of them where the drugs are distributed.”
“I didn’t realize all of this was going on,” she confessed, frowning.
“We work with the DEA, ATF, ICE, and the FBI, plus other law enforcement agencies like the Texas Rangers and the U.S. Border Patrol. We just don’t have the manpower to handle all of this drug activity by ourselves and generally speaking, there’s constant drug shipments brought in along the Gulf Coast of Texas.”
“That’s dangerous work, Cade.”
“Police work always is. Let’s get you home—I mean, to my home. You’re looking tired, Kara.”
“I guess I’m pretty stressed out over everything,” she agreed. Earlier, she’d called Blaine and Molly, letting them know what had happened. They promised to go over and ensure that everything was clean at the school and ready to receive the children on Monday. Sophia Marquez, her assigned Artemis bodyguard, would meet her at the school on Monday as well. She was flying in from Alexandria, Virginia, the Delos HQ.
Wyatt had called her while Cade was driving her to Sarita. Sophia, he told her, had been an Army Ranger, one of the first women to make it through the grueling school and later, she joined the black ops Army group to be deployed to Afghanistan.
Wyatt had sent her the résumé and photo of the woman who would pose as the school’s new assistant administrator. She had been born in Del Rio, Texas. Her parents had earned their green cards and eventually became American citizens. Sophia knew South Texas like the back of her hand, was aware of the drug problems in the area, and would be with Kara every day. She would follow Kara in her rental car to and from Cade’s house, down to the Delos school in Clayton, and then follow her back to Sarita every afternoon. Knowing that Sophia was going to be there for her made Kara feel safer. Sophia had an impressive black ops background and Cade was very pleased with her résumé. He told Kara that for now, until they could figure out why she was being targeted, she would have twenty-four-hour-a-day guardians.
The drive from the sheriff’s department to Cade’s home on King Avenue was less than five minutes away. Sarita was a small town with roughly two-hundred and thirty-eight residents. Because this area got more rain than other parts of Texas, grass and trees flourished. As they approached Cade’s home, she saw five pecan trees on both sides of his white stucco home with a red-tiled Spanish style roof. It was hot and humid in this area and the huge, large-limbed trees shaded the house from the blistering overhead rays.
She liked the white picket fence enclosing the lawn, front and sides of the house, as well as the screened-in wraparound porch. Flowers bloomed in window boxes, making the place look inviting. Everything was neat and well cared for. She’d always believed the outside of a house reflected the owner. Cade obviously took pride in his home.
“We’re here,” he murmured, pulling into the driveway and shutting off the cruiser.
“It’s so pretty,” she said, opening her own door and climbing out. Before she could retrieve her bag sitting on the rear seat, Cade had opened the door and pulled it out for her. She saw him give her an amused look once again, and she smiled a little, giving him a look of thanks. The red brick walk was bracketed by bright gold and yellow marigolds.
Cade moved ahead of her, pulling out the keys to his home from his pocket.
“Is this the proverbial yellow brick road?” she asked, gesturing to the flowers.
Grinning, he said, “Hey, I grew up with stories of Dorothy, Toto, and the Wizard of Oz. How about you?”
Coming to a halt a step below the wide brick porch entrance, she said, “I think you’re giving a lot of yourself away by what you’ve created in this pretty yard.”
“I don’t mind you knowing who I am,” he teased. Cade pushed open the heavy oak door. “Come on in, Kara.” His voice dropped, his gaze holding hers. “Welcome home…”
She heard the sudden emotion in his thickened tone and it melted through her as nothing else ever had. Unable to meet his eyes, feeling suddenly tearful, wanting to rush into his arms to be held, she turned and stepped into his house. For an unknown reason, Cade put her in touch with all the emotions she tried to keep hidden. She’d grown up knowing that crying, looking weak, or appearing incapable was simply not accepted by her tyrannical father.
There was a wealth of natural light within the foyer, living room, and kitchen area, the open-concept design dazzling as she looked around. There were two fifteen-foot Hawaiian corn plants, their shining green and red leaves giving the area colorful vibrancy. She loved house plants and spotted a massive prayer plant with white blooms in a mauve ceramic pot in the south corner of the room. She’d been in condos and apartments before where a bachelor lived. They all seemed to use dark colors, stark metal furniture, and no green plants. It always felt too masculine and sterile to Kara. She imagined that Cade’s house would reflect that same kind of color and design, but it didn’t. He was a man of many surprises, pleasant ones.
How little she knew of him—and how badly she wanted to know so much more!
This was not just a house. It was a home—a nest of the finest kind in Kara’s opinion. The floors consisted of polished light brown pecan wood. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bouncing off it, creating a golden glow within the expansive area. There was a pale apricot color on the walls of the living room, a lavender wraparound sofa, paired with two similar overstuffed chairs nearby.
The rug was bright and colorful, swirls of rainbow shades. The white adobe fireplace was the centerpiece against a wall of caramel-colored Texas flagstone. She moved her fingers across the couch’s tight nap of corduroy. Then, hearing the door close, she turned. Cade’s full attention was on her.
“Does it meet with your expectations?” he smiled, hoping it had exceeded them. He walked over and stood near the end of the couch.
“This is a beautiful home, Cade.” She moved her fingers across the nubby material. “And I love the color lavender. This whole living room just begs you to take your shoes off, get comfy, and just be.”
“Good,” he murmured. “That was the idea. Come on, I’ll show you around.”
She saw how pleased her words made him and wondered if he’d been nervous about showing her his home.
The open concept flowed into a stunning kitchen. Cade had selected a white marble counter with purple and black vein accents running through it. There was a six burner gas stove from the expensive Wolf brand. Only someone who really loved cooking would buy such a pricey item. Cade had said he wasn’t too bad of a cook, but now she wondered if he’d been underplaying his talents. He was probably a gourmet chef in disguise and she smiled to herself about the possibility. Kara loved discovering all these hidden facets about him.
Walking ahead of Kara down a long, airy hallway, Cade opened the door on the right and stepped aside. “This is the master bedroom, but I want you to make it your own while you’re here. Beyond it,” and he gestured toward another door, “is the bathroom. I think you’ll like what you see.”
“I like it already,” she said, moving into the room. There was a king-sized platform bed, a pale lavender chenille bedspread across it. All four sides of the bed were framed with a rolled, dark purple velvet that was just begging to be touched. What made her draw her breath and stunned her into momentary silence was what was behind the bed’s purple velvet headboard.
Cade came and stood at her shoulder. “When I bought this house, I wanted some color in it. It took me a year to finish that mosaic panel. My mother is a watercolor artist and taught me a lot about the color wheel.” He gave her a shy glance. “Funny, I just finished this panel a week ago and you’re the first person to see the completed version.”
He walked over to the left side of the mosaic panel, brushing his fingers over a corner area of the huge ten-foot-long panel. “Right here in this area is the last of the mosaic I laid and grouted. It’s still a little bit damp, but it will dry out in a week. These are Texas bluebonnets,” he said, studying the grout with the colorful blue, purple, and hints of pink of ceramic tile chips that he’d carefully inlaid to create a group of the famous state flower.
Pressing her hand against her heart, Kara stared at the mosaicked panel that rose from behind the purple velvet headboard. “This—” she began, her voice hushed, “is such a work of art, Cade. I mean,” and she opened her hand, staring at the motif of a sloped hill of wildflowers that could be found in a Texas meadow, “it’s incredible!” She saw his cheeks redden. He barely held her gaze, more boy than man in that moment over her emotional compliment. And then she realized that probably very, very few people had ever seen the beauty of his artwork.
“Thanks,” he said awkwardly, rubbing his jaw. “The only other person who has seen it is my mom.” Clearing his throat, his hand resting on the velvet headboard, he added, “My dad was a plumber by trade, but his hobby was creating mosaic panel art. My mother was always giving him suggestions on color because he was very poor at it and she’s an artist in her spare time. They were a good team.”
“I never knew your parents were so artistic.”
“It was something they enjoyed doing. I grew up in Mom’s small art room and then spent the rest of my time with my dad on weekends out in his garage where he had a table to make his mosaic art panels. Those were good times,” he murmured.
“And now you’re carrying that family tradition on,” she said gently. “Has your mom given you help with the colors in your wildflower panel?”
He rocked back on the heels of his boots, stuffing his hands into his Levis. “Yes. As you know, she lives in Clayton, but I try to see her at least once a week, drop by for lunch, and catch up with how she’s doing. When I told her I was working on the sketch, I brought it to her home for her to check out my panel idea. We spent hours talking about the different colors and how to really make it a visual feast of sorts for a person’s eyes.” He gave the panel a fond look, his voice going low. “There’s a lot of my father and mother in this.”
“Well,” Kara said, her voice filled with emotion and pride, “that is the most beautiful panel I’ve ever seen. When I was younger, my father always took me and my mom on cruises and vacations to Europe. I got to see a lot of the insides of Gothic churches and their magnificent stained glass windows. He took us to fine art and sculpture museums, as well.” She gestured to his artwork above the bed. “What you’ve done here, Cade, rivals those gorgeous stained glass windows of Europe. Your work just takes my breath away
.”
Again, his cheeks turned ruddy and he became suddenly shy, not the tough law enforcement officer she knew. Impacted by his vulnerability, Cade endeared himself to her even more than before.
“I’d never been outside the States,” he admitted. “Except when I was in the Marine Corps. I’ve seen photos of those churches online. I don’t really think my hobby attempts can be compared to them, Kara, but thanks for the compliment.”
In that moment, she wanted to turn and wrap her arms around his shoulders and draw him to her. There was pain deep in his eyes and she could feel the hurt around him for a fleeting moment, guessing that it was about missing his father in his life. “I think your work is that good, Cade, and nothing’s going to change my mind about it.” She reached over, briefly touching his arm. “And even more important, you had a wonderful relationship with your dad. I’d give anything to have had one with mine but all he does is drive me away. I wish he weren’t so controlling.”
“Yeah, he’s a piece of work, all right,” was all Cade would say, trying to keep censure out of his voice. “Let’s look at your bathroom, Kara. I think you’ll like it,” and he cupped her elbow, guiding her into it.
Cade’s hand on her elbow was unexpected and she absorbed his light, monitoring touch. Her skin sizzled with pleasure. What would it be like to love this man fully and completely? Kara was not innocent to the world of relationships. Cade was stirring up her hormones, engaging her heart and the combination sent yearnings racing through her. He was so confident as a man, leashed power as a deputy. But here in the safety of his home, he allowed her to see another side to him—the unsure artist who had created an undeniable work of art.
Kara had never forgotten that his family had been verbally maligned by her father too many times to count. A plumber was a necessary service provider in Jud’s life, but he never respected Cade’s father when he arrived at the ranch from time to time to fix plumbing issues. Kara had seen that lack of respect from her father toward everyone, especially from what he termed “the lower classes.”
