From Here to Texas

by Stella Bagwell

  Clementine spotted the waitress approaching with their coffee. She waited until their cups and saucers were settled and the woman walked away before she answered.

  “I’m not sure.” She shrugged as she stirred cream into the steaming coffee. “When I first decided to come up here, I’d planned on just a week’s stay. But now I don’t know. It may take more time than I thought to deal with the house.”

  Yeah, right, she thought with self-disgust. It wasn’t the house that was on her mind. It was Quito. And the way he’d made love to her last night. Dear God, all she had to do was close her eyes and the fresh memories of being in his arms heated her whole body.

  She didn’t know what had come over her, why she’d urged the two of them to rekindle the fire that had once been between them. It wasn’t like the two of them could ever have a life together. And making love to him was only going to make it harder for her to leave New Mexico.

  Victoria finished a long sip of coffee as she studied her friend’s face. “What about the house? Surely you’re not thinking about selling it.”

  Clementine grimaced. “Actually I was. I don’t have any need for it.”

  Victoria waved a dismissive hand at her. “What about vacations to be with your old friends up here in San Juan County?”

  A wry smile touched Clementine’s lips. “Well, I wasn’t sure I had any friends up here.”

  “Oh, Clem. I don’t know why you had such thoughts in your head. None of us was in any position to judge you back then. And we aren’t now. You did what you thought was best. For yourself and for Quito.”

  “Yes.” The word could barely get past her clogged throat. She tried to clear it with a little cough, then raised the coffee cup to her lips.

  A few moments passed in silence as both women sipped their coffee. Eventually the waitress arrived with their meals. Bacon and eggs for Victoria. Sausage and pancakes for Clementine.

  As the two of them started to eat, Victoria asked, “Speaking of Quito, have you seen him yet?”

  Clementine drew in a bracing breath as she glanced across the table to her friend. “As a matter of fact, I’ve seen him three times. We had supper together last night.”

  Victoria’s dark brows shot up. “Really? I’m surprised.”

  Clementine chuckled. “Well, this place is so small it would be impossible not to run into Quito. Especially with him being the sheriff. And we didn’t part on nasty terms, after all.”

  Victoria slathered jam on a piece of toast. “No. You didn’t. But Quito has been such a loner for so long. And we all know it’s because of you. And—”

  Before Victoria could say more, Clementine held up a hand asking her to put on the brakes.

  “Victoria, that’s all in the past. If you think Quito has been carrying a torch for me, then you’re wrong. We’re just old friends. That’s all we can be now.”

  A frown of concern wrinkled Victoria’s forehead. “Oh, Clementine, forgive me if I assumed too much. But I’ve always had this feeling that Quito hasn’t gotten over you.”

  “Oh.” She swallowed at the knot in her throat and forced a bite of pancakes into her mouth.

  “But I suppose after all this time that probably doesn’t matter to you,” Victoria added.

  Clementine’s head jerked up with surprise and her eyes locked on with Victoria’s. “That’s a caustic thing to say!”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter, does it? You just insisted the two of you were only friends. And besides,” she added with a sly smile, “I’m sure you’re married now. With children, I hope.”

  Shaking her head, Clementine looked down at her plate. “I’m divorced, Victoria, and have been for more than two years. We didn’t have any children.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  She let out a heavy breath. “Me, too,” she said, then added, “what do you know about the shooting that wounded Quito? I can’t imagine anyone around here that would do such a thing. When we lived here, everyone seemed to admire and respect him. But I suppose a sheriff does make some enemies over the years.”

  “I probably don’t know much more than he told you,” Victoria said with a frown. “Jess doesn’t usually give me any inside information. Department policy and all that.”

  “Well, Quito didn’t tell me much, either. Except that someone drove up beside his vehicle and shot him.” She looked candidly across the table to Victoria. “What do you think? Do you have any idea who it might have been or why?”

  Slipping a bite of egg into her mouth, Victoria shook her head glumly. After she swallowed, she said, “There are no leads for the detectives to go on. Other than someone spotted a Dodge pickup with dark windows somewhere in the vicinity of the shooting. It had Nevada plates, but the person didn’t catch any of the numbers. And even that clue might not be pertinent to the shooting. Could have just been some innocent person driving down the highway.”

  “That’s the only clue they have?” Clementine asked with disbelief. “Surely they have something else!”

  Once again Victoria shook her head. “Since the shooter was inside a truck, there weren’t even any shell casings to be found.”

  The hope of finding whoever committed the heinous crime appeared to be slim to none, Clementine thought uneasily. “That’s scary, Victoria. This killer—or maniac—whatever he is…might try to kill Quito again! Do you think he’s watching out for himself?”

  Last night, during the time Clementine had spent with him, she hadn’t noticed him taking any sort of extra precautions for his safety. As far as she could recall, he hadn’t even once looked over his shoulder. But then Quito had never been one to fear for himself. Only others.

  Victoria’s expression was sympathetic. “I don’t think so. You know Quito. He doesn’t ever worry about his own hide. He just wants to make sure everyone else in the county is safe.”

  . Clementine nodded and focused her attention on the pancakes on her plate. Normally she loved the sinfully sweet breakfast, but this morning she might as well have been chewing tree bark soaked in syrup. Her mind, her whole body was consumed with Quito. Making love to him had shaken her deeply, even more deeply than it had eleven years ago. And maybe that was because she was a mature woman now and she appreciated all the things that she’d lost.

  “So what are you doing with yourself now, Clementine?”

  Relieved to focus on something else besides Quito, Clementine looked up. “I’m doing relief work. You know, overseas with needy children and adults. I just got back from Afghanistan about a week ago.”

  Victoria’s eyes were suddenly glowing with interest. “How exciting. Gosh, you’ll have to tell me all about it. Do you have any pictures with you?”

  “A few. Back with my things in the hotel.”

  Victoria thoughtfully tapped her fork against the side of her plate. “And speaking of hotels. We’ve got to do something about you staying there. It’s just awful to think you’re paying for a room, when I’d love to have you stay out at the ranch. So would my husband. He loves having beautiful women around,” she joked.

  “Oh, no. I couldn’t impose. You have children and a husband and a job. You don’t have time to entertain a guest. Or have another body underfoot.”

  Victoria chuckled. “Who said anything about you being a guest? I’d probably put you to work cleaning the kitchen or cooking.”

  To know that Victoria still treasured their friendship filled her with happy relief and she laughed along with her. “That wouldn’t be a problem. I’ve learned to wash dishes out of a galvanized wash pan.” Reaching across the table, she touched Victoria’s hand. “Thank you for asking me. I’ll think about it. Okay?”

  “Think hard. And in the meantime, don’t do anything with the Jones house. It’s so beautiful and I know that someday you’ll be glad you have it.”

  Smiling wanly, Clementine said, “Maybe I won’t do anything in a hurry about the house. Who knows,” she added with a shrug, “I might even decide to clean it up and stay a few days lon
ger.”

  At the same time Clementine and Victoria were finishing their breakfast, a grim-faced Jess was pacing around Quito’s office.

  “I don’t like this, Quito. And I don’t believe it’s a joke, either.”

  Quito glanced down at the small square of paper lying in front of him. It was a short message, written in carefully printed letters. Next time I’ll get the job done.

  Of course the envelope had no return address on the front or back. The only apparent clue was the Las Vegas postage stamp.

  “This proves that the truck with the Nevada plates belonged to the shooter! This also proves that someone is going to try to kill you again. And this time they might just succeed!”

  Quito stifled a heavy sigh. He wasn’t exactly pleased to find a death threat waiting for him in his morning mail. But then he shouldn’t have been surprised to find it. Clearly the person who’d shot him had been aiming to kill. And after going to such lengths to try to blow him away, it was pretty obvious the person wouldn’t stop until the job was done.

  “I can’t run and hide in the closet,” Quito growled. Then frowning, he looked up at his under sheriff. “Go get a plastic bag from forensics and we’ll send this thing to the lab down at Albuquerque. If we’re lucky they’ll find prints or DNA mixed in with the glue on the back of the envelope. I can’t tell, but it looks as though the stamp was a self-adhesive kind.”

  Jess started out the door to follow Quito’s order, then paused to look back at him. “Quito, I know this is a silly question, but do you know anyone in Las Vegas? Someone you angered or arrested?”

  Releasing a dismal sigh, Quito shook his head. “No. Not at all. But that doesn’t surprise me. I figure this is a gun for hire.”

  Surprise crossed Jess’s features. “You think someone was hired to kill you?”

  Leaning back in his leather chair, Quito wearily pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t in the mood to talk about someone killing him. Clementine was already doing a good job of that. Just give her a little more time and the Nevada thug wouldn’t have to make another try. His heart would already have holes in it.

  “Sure do. Why? You hadn’t thought of that notion?”

  With a frown, Jess swung his head back and forth. “Actually I hadn’t. It seemed like an angry crime—not like a cold assassination from afar.”

  Quito shrugged. “You might be right. But I don’t think so. It’s just a feeling I have more than anything.”

  Both men suddenly looked toward the door as whistling out in the hallway grew closer and closer to Quito’s office door.

  “Who the hell?” Quito started to rise from his chair at the same time Neil Rankin rounded the door facing. There was a wide grin on his face and he looked so damn cheerful Quito wanted to shout at him.

  “Good mornin’ guys. Am I interrupting? Julie gave me permission to come on back.”

  Quito grunted. “Remind me to dock Julie’s paycheck,” he joked with a heavy growl. “And it wouldn’t matter to you if you were interrupting, Neil. You’d come into my office anyway.”

  “So,” Neil said as he strode straight to Quito’s coffeepot. “You’d do the same if it were my office.”

  Quito couldn’t argue with that. Over the years there had been many times he’d burst in on Neil and interrupted his workday. But good friends could do that to each other and get away with it. And Neil had become his good friend even before Quito had become sheriff fifteen years ago.

  “I’ll leave you two to fight it out,” Jess said and quickly exited the room.

  Neil finished pouring a cup full of coffee and carried it over to a chair sitting at an angle to Quito’s desk. He sat down, crossed his ankles and sipped his coffee under Quito’s squinted gaze.

  “What are you doing here this morning? Don’t you have work to do?”

  “Later. One client was late, then called to say she couldn’t make it at all. Must have broken a fingernail or something.”

  Quito rolled his eyes. “God help you if you’re representing a woman that ditzy.”

  “I’d represent anyone for the right kind of money,” Neil said glibly.

  Quito scowled at him. “That’s a bald-faced lie and we both know it. You do have principles.”

  Neil chuckled. “Yeah. At least I don’t chase ambulances.”

  “What are you doing here? Just killing time and wasting mine?”

  Neil cleared his throat and leveled a pointed look on Quito. “Actually I’m being nosy. I wanted to know how your dinner with Clementine went last night.”

  His eyes suddenly wide, Quito stared at him. “How did you know about that?”

  Chuckling again, Neil said, “Great day, Quito! You know nothing stays quiet in this town. The news that your old flame is back in town has raced down the streets like floodwater from a broken dam. I’m surprised the phone lines aren’t jammed.”

  Quito opened his mouth to make a retort, but Jess chose that moment to reappear with the plastic bag.

  He knocked on the door facing. “If you’ll let me get that thing, I’ll be out of your hair,” he told Quito.

  Quito motioned for him to come on and finish his business. Neil’s expression suddenly perked up as Jess leaned over the desk.

  “Get what thing? What sort of thing?”

  “None of your business,” Quito snapped.

  With a pair of tweezers, Jess picked up the envelope and the accompanying piece of paper. As he dropped it into a plastic bag with a zip lock closure, Neil said, “Quito, you know I always keep my lips super-glued. Come on and let me in on this lab study.”

  “I’ll ship it off right now. Or would you rather one of the deputies drive it down to Albuquerque?” Jess asked.

  “Drive it,” Quito said without hesitation. “I want to make damn sure the thing isn’t lost or tampered with. And tell whoever takes it he’d better not be monkeying around on the way down there.”

  “Will do.”

  Jess started out of the room. “Nice to see you, Neil. Why don’t you come out and see us sometime? We’ll saddle up Pokie and Star and cut a few calves.”

  Neil laughed. “Lord, I haven’t been on a horse in months, Jess. And cutting—hell, that would kill me. But thanks for asking. I’ll think about it.”

  Nodding, Jess went on out the door. Behind him, Quito yelled, “Shut that door. And tell Julie not to send a soul back here. Even if they’re confessing to murder.”

  “I’ll handle them,” Jess assured him, then firmly shut the door on the two men.

  Neil scooted up to the edge of the hard wooden seat and looked at Quito with a condescending eye. “All right. Jess is gone. Tell me what that letter was that he carried out in a plastic bag. Evidence on what or who?”

  Quito didn’t normally let any sort of information leak from his department. But he was certain Neil would never open his mouth. And if he didn’t tell his friend, he would keep hounding him till Quito would get the urge to box his jaws.

  Rising from his chair, Quito walked over to the coffeepot and poured himself a cup of the tarry brew. Even though it was still fairly early in the morning, he’d been here since six and so had the coffee. “It wasn’t a letter. It was a message—one line.”

  “To you?”

  Quito shrugged. “It appears that way. The envelope was addressed to me.”

  “What did it say?”

  “I shouldn’t tell you. It wouldn’t do a bit of good if I did.”

  “Tell me anyway,” Neil ordered.

  His friend’s expression had gone grim in the past few moments and Quito understood that ever since the shooting, Neil had been worried about him. He and Daniel Redwing had taken turns sitting up with Quito at the hospital. Although at the time Quito had been unconscious and wouldn’t have known if Dr. Kildaire himself had been in the room. Still it touched him deep down to know that the two men hadn’t left him to die alone.

  “It’s not that big a deal, Neil. Just a little death threat. It might even be someone playing a
prank,” he said, trying to play the whole thing down.

  Neil snorted. “I doubt that. Just go look at the bloodstains in your vehicle.”

  “They’re not in there anymore. Since it was my work vehicle, the department paid for new seats and carpet.”

  Neil rolled his eyes with worried frustration. “I’m glad about that. But me and you both know that if someone sent you a death threat, it’s probably from the person who tried to kill you a month ago.”

  Sighing heavily, Quito leaned his head against the back of his chair. “Yeah. Probably. Most likely. And when you think about it, that note might be an answer to my prayers. We desperately need a lead in this case, Neil. Otherwise, I might never know who wants me dead.”

  Grimacing, Neil leaned up and placed his cup on the edge of Quito’s desk. “Well, I wish all of this wasn’t happening now,” he said, then shook his head, “Hell, I wish it wasn’t happening at any time. But with Clementine here I wanted things to be happy for both of you.”

  His eyes narrow, Quito leaned forward to stare at his friend. “Happy? How could anything ever be happy for me and Clementine?”

  “Well, they sure as hell can’t be with someone shooting at you,” Neil quipped.

  Quito cursed under his breath. “Neil, wake up. If you’ve got some far-fetched idea that Clementine came back to resume our relationship, then you’re in some sort of medicated fog. Or you’ve been having too many beers down at Indian Wells.”

  “I don’t take medication and I had one beer last night. That’s not enough alcohol to fog a brain like mine,” he joked wryly. “You’re the one who needs to wake up. Clementine is still crazy about you. All I had to do is mention your name and I could see it all over her face.”

  Quito’s heart winced with bittersweet pain. He wasn’t going to try to deny that Clementine still felt something for him. But it wasn’t love. She was addicted to his sex, that was all. And he couldn’t be a fool and let himself think the way she’d clung to him last night was anything but physical need.