by B. J Daniels
Cody pulled up in front of the house, cut the engine and sat for a moment, staring at the house. “Is the guy crazy?”
“Apparently so, since he’s dating my mother,” Bo quipped. “Come on.” He opened his door and climbed out.
“What exactly are we looking for?” Cody asked.
“Whatever we can find.” Something incriminating. So he could tell his mother what he suspected she already suspected: Hank Monroe was too good to be true. Bo was counting on it as he picked up a rock to bust a window.
“This guy is a fool,” Cody said as he tried the front door and it swung open. “The door wasn’t even locked.” His friend made a face as Bo dropped the rock. “I don’t like this. Seems a little too easy, you know?”
Bo knew. “The guy is clueless. Don’t worry about it.” He shoved past Cody and entered the cool, dim, massive living room. Hank Monroe apparently had money. But how had he made it?
“Where do we start?” Cody asked as they took in the place. “Nice. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he married your mother.”
“He’s not going to marry her,” Bo snapped.
“No one marries someone like her unless he has to.” He’d heard how she’d come to marry Floyd Evans; he’d overheard his grandmother Evans talking about it. Floyd Evans wouldn’t have married her except that she’d been pregnant with Violet.
“Still, what does it hurt having a guy like this dating your mother?”
Bo ignored the question. He didn’t like talking about his mother’s love life. He couldn’t imagine what Hank saw in her. The guy had to be up to something.
Cody followed him down the hallway.
“You check the bedroom,” Bo ordered. “Look for drugs or anything weird.” He stepped into what was obviously a home office and went straight to the file cabinet first. He had no idea what he was looking for, but he didn’t find anything interesting and turned to the computer.
The computer appeared to be brand-new, state-of-the-art, and it didn’t have anything on it except the software it had come with.
Discouraged, he glanced around the room, his gaze falling on the answering machine—and the flashing red light.
He reached over and hit the play button.
HANK FELT HIS CELL phone vibrate when he was not two miles from the ranch. While he didn’t lock the doors at the ranch, he did have a security system of sorts: when a door was opened, he got a call on his cell. And since this wasn’t the day that Claudia Nicholson cleaned, he turned around and sped back toward the ranch.
He took the back way in and, as he came over a hill, met with a road full of cattle and two cowboys on horses herding the slow-moving cows to another pasture.
That cost him valuable time.
He parked just over the hill from the house and took out the gun he kept taped on the underside of the SUV seat.
Crickets chirped in the tall green grass as he made his way toward the house. The evening breeze stirred the stand of ponderosas, sending the scent of pine wafting through the warm air. In the distance, the Little Rockies range slowly turned from violet to black against the midnight-blue sky.
Hank could feel the air grow heavy around him, the heft of the gun too familiar in his hand. He’d been here before, too many times, and had thought he’d put this part of his life behind him.
Right. That’s why you keep guns stashed in places easy to get to should you need them.
The back door was unlocked. He turned the knob without making a sound and stepped in. The air inside felt cool and smelled of the orange-scented cleaner Claudia used.
The back door opened into the laundry room. He stepped from it to the doorway to the kitchen. Empty.
He moved quickly through the large commercial kitchen, into the open living area with its huge fireplace and assorted leather furniture. The ranch house had come furnished. He had yet to sit in every chair.
Shoving away the thought of how ridiculous that was, he glanced down the hallway, pretty sure whoever had been here was gone.
But he gripped the gun as he moved down the hallway, not willing to take the chance he was wrong. He wasn’t a man who took chances. That’s how he’d managed to live this long.
At his office, he looked in and saw that his chair had been moved and one of the file cabinets wasn’t closed all the way.
As he moved down the hallway, he noted that there were tracks in the thick, recently vacuumed carpet. He checked each room, which took him some time. Another problem with having a house this size.
Finding nothing, he returned to the office. What had the intruder been looking for?
Nothing appeared to be missing. Not his expensive stereo equipment, wide-screen televisions or artwork. But then, his intruders—from the tracks in the thick carpet, there had been two of them—hadn’t had enough time to do much damage.
All of it could have been replaced. None of it had any sentimental value. He liked it that way. He’d already lost the important things in his life.
He checked the file cabinet first. Nothing missing. He didn’t bother with the computer, since there was nothing on it to steal.
Sitting down at his desk, he considered who might have been here. He glanced at the answering machine. No messages.
The phone rang, startling him. He let the machine pick up.
“Hank?” Arlene’s voice, worry in her tone.
“I’m not going to be able to make our date tonight. I’m sorry. I…Something’s come up.”
He started to reach for the phone, but she hung up too quickly. He was worrying that she’d heard something about Charlotte. He hit rewind to play her message again to gauge how much worry he’d heard.
The machine seemed to rewind a little too long, and then he realized why. There’d been another new message.
“Hank. It’s Cameron. Call me. Something has come up of grave importance. It concerns you, I’m afraid, and could be dire.”
There was a pause, then Arlene’s message. The answering machine shut off, throwing the room into a dense silence that was almost palpable.
Hank swore. Cam wasn’t leaving his messages in code any longer. What the hell had happened that Cam would be calling? Grave importance? Something concerning him that could be dire?
Hank swore again. They weren’t going to draw him back in. He didn’t care what the problem was. He was done with that life.
As he reached over to erase the tape, he realized that whoever had been in the house had played the message. That’s why the light hadn’t been flashing. His intruders had listened to Cam’s message.
“THAT WAS TOO CLOSE, man,” Cody said as they sped down the road. “If you hadn’t looked out the back way and seen him coming…He had a gun.”
“Yeah, what was that about?” Bo was still panting. They’d pushed Cody’s car out of the drive so Hank couldn’t hear them start up the engine and come hauling ass after them.
“What’s the guy doing with a gun?”
Cody shot him a look. “Who cares? He’s dangerous. And if he finds out we were in his house—”
“He won’t,” Bo snapped, not sure of that at all. How had the dude known in the first place? And who was this guy anyway? he thought, remembering what he’d heard on the answering machine. And what kind of crap was Hank Monroe involved in?
Unfortunately Bo hadn’t a clue. The house was expensive as all hell and impersonal, as if Hank Monroe wasn’t staying long. He was hiding something, that was a given. The question was how to find out what.
“Let’s stop by your place. I need to use your computer,” Bo said.
“Tell me why I had to bring along a crowbar and a ski mask so you could call up a porn site on my computer?” Cody said belligerently. “I thought we were going to do something fun?”
“I’m not after porn,” Bo snapped. “I’m trying to find out more about Hank Monroe. Look,” he said, “after I’m done, we’ll go buy some beer and see if we can find those girls we saw the other night. What do you say?”
&nbs
p; HANK CALLED ARLENE from his cell. “Sorry, I’m running a little late. They’re moving cattle out by me.”
“You didn’t get my message?” she asked.
“No, I guess you’d already left.”
“Did you hear from Charlotte?” he asked, hoping that’s all it had been: Charlotte had come home and Arlene needed to stay with her daughter tonight.
“No, nothing.”
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Sure. That is, I’ll be fine.”
He didn’t doubt that. She was strong. She wouldn’t have gotten this far if she wasn’t. From the moment he’d met her he’d known her life had been hell. Maybe that was why he’d asked her out.
He’d seen himself in her.
“You can tell me what’s happened when I pick you up,” he said. “Get dressed. I made reservations for the play at the theater in Fort Peck. I haven’t been there yet, but I hear the building is something to see and the performances are wonderful.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Arlene hesitated. “I got a call about my oldest daughter. I haven’t told you about Violet.”
“You can tell me about her on the way.”
“And ruin a perfectly good date?” Arlene said with a humorless laugh.
“Nothing could ruin our date. Trust me, you’d be surprised what it takes to shock me. Get dressed, wear something casual. I’m on my way.”
ARLENE HUNG UP THE phone, so touched by Hank’s understanding and kindness that her eyes were swimming again in tears. She made an irritated swipe at them. She acted as if no one had ever been kind to her.
You don’t deserve this.
Her mother again. So maybe it was true that she hadn’t gotten a lot of compassion. The thought made her laugh. Her mother and compassion had never crossed paths.
But how had Arlene gotten so lucky to have Hank Monroe in her life? Even for a while?
He wants something from you. He’ll hurt you just like all men.
Arlene turned on the radio to drown out her mother’s voice and dressed quickly, not wanting to be late. As she dabbed on a little lip gloss, she caught her reflection in the mirror. For a moment she was taken aback. She didn’t recognize the woman looking back at her.
There was color in her cheeks, and her eyes seemed to twinkle. She smiled at her reflection, almost embarrassed by what she saw—because she hadn’t seen it in so long she had trouble even putting a name to it. Joy.
Instantly she turned from the mirror. How could she go on a date as if Charlotte wasn’t missing and eight months pregnant? As if Violet wasn’t getting out of the mental hospital and homicidal? As if Bo wasn’t somewhere getting in trouble instead of looking for a job?
The phone rang, and for an instant her heart sank. It would be Hank canceling. He would have had time to rethink their date. He would make some lame excuse.
She braced herself for the worst. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been here before. “Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“Charlotte? Oh, my God, you have had me worried out of my mind. Where are you? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I just called to tell you that the father of my baby and I are going away to make a life for ourselves. Don’t come looking for me. I’ll write as soon as we get settled.”
“The baby?” Arlene cried.
“It hasn’t come yet. I had some false labor, but I’m fine. I’ll call you when the baby comes.”
“Charlotte, wait. I…” But the line had gone dead.
Arlene stood for a moment holding the phone. All her worry, and Charlotte was fine. She felt anger well inside her at her youngest daughter for scaring her so and waited for the relief to sink in as she hung up the phone.
Her children were no longer children. She’d protected them for years when she should have made them take responsibility for their own actions. But she’d wanted so badly to be a good mother. A perfect mother. And she’d gotten it all wrong.
She’d become her mother.
There was a horrible thought.
She replayed Charlotte’s words in her head, still waiting for the relief to wash over her. Charlotte was fine. And yet Arlene had no idea where she was or who she was with or when she would hear from her again. Nor would she get to see her first grandbaby born.
She straightened and met her gaze in the mirror again, determination burning in her eyes.
She didn’t deserve a second chance, not with the mess she’d made of her life. But if Hank was giving her one, damned if she wasn’t going to take it.
“THANK YOU FOR TONIGHT,” Arlene said when he parked in front of her house later that evening. “I had a wonderful time.”
“My pleasure. I’m glad you heard from Charlotte. I still might try to find out who she left town with, if you don’t mind.”
“No, I appreciate it. But are you sure you want to do that?”
He laughed. “I’ve always been a big fan of mysteries. I can’t stand it when I can’t figure out the ending. I never cheat, though,” he said quickly, making her smile. “But I am also seldom wrong about who did it.”
“You would have made a good cop,” she said.
“You would have been the one who never gave up until he caught the bad guys.”
She didn’t know how close she’d come to the truth. Or maybe she did. Arlene was a lot sharper than he guessed people had ever given her credit for.
“That would have been me, all right.” He’d always loved the chase. It had gotten into his blood—and cost him dearly. Cost him his family. And for a while he’d been afraid it would cost him his soul. He still wasn’t sure it hadn’t.
Leaning toward her, he kissed her gently on the lips. It felt so good he drew her to him. She felt stiff in his arms at first. He took his time, kissing her slowly, gently, teasing her lips and the tip of her tongue with his own.
He felt her shock the first time his tongue ran over the tip of her own. A soft chuckle emanated from him. A pleased chuckle as he drew her even closer.
He could feel her pulse pounding as he cupped her jaw, his thumb caressing her skin. She sighed against his lips.
Pulling back to look into her eyes, he could see that her cheeks were flushed with pleasure, her eyes bright. He smiled at her, wanting to brush his fingers along her collarbone to unhook the top button of her shirt and reveal the swell of her full breasts.
He wanted to make love to her, slowly and tenderly. To arouse what he sensed in her was a passion that she kept tightly reined in.
“I should get in the house,” she said, sounding out of breath.
He nodded as he started to get out to walk her to the door.
“No, please,” she said, opening her door and quickly slipping out. She bent to look in at him.
“Thank you again. Good night.”
“Good night.” He sighed as she hurriedly closed the door and strode up the steps to disappear inside the dark house. Apparently Bo wasn’t home.
Hank hesitated a moment, not liking the idea of her being out here all alone. Then he reminded himself that Arlene was probably as capable as anyone of surviving in this part of the country. It wasn’t as if her children had ever been there for her.
He recalled what she’d told him about Violet, her oldest.
“I didn’t know what to do,” Arlene had said in tears. “I wanted to get her help when I’d seen that something was wrong with her when she was just a girl. But my mother, my mother-in-law and Floyd forbade it. I should have done it anyway. I should—”
Hank had touched her lips with a finger. “You have to stop blaming yourself. She’s getting the help she needs now at the state mental hospital, right?”
Arlene had looked over at him and he’d seen the fear in her eyes. “She has everyone fooled. They’re going to let her out, and I’m just terrified of what she’ll do.”
As he drove away now, he feared Arlene had reason to be afraid.
Chapter Five
The next morning Hank
asked himself what he was doing as he parked in front of the Cut and Curl beauty shop where Charlotte Evans had worked.
Charlotte had called her mother and said she was with the father of her baby and making a new life somewhere else. So why didn’t he just let it go?
Because of Arlene. She should have been relieved, but he’d known that something had been bothering her last night and, finally, on the way home he’d asked her what it was.
“Don’t you realize just the thought of Violet getting out of the mental hospital is enough to have me worried?” she’d asked. “She hates me, blames me for everything. Not that I’m not to blame.”
“You didn’t make Violet into an attempted murderer,” he’d assured her. “A lot of kids grow up in horrible environments where they don’t get enough food and are beaten every day and they don’t become killers. You aren’t responsible for what Violet did.”
“She tried to kill me. Her own mother.” Arlene’s voice had broken. “She even got her brother and sister involved.”
He’d reached over and taken her hand. “They failed. That should tell you something.”
Arlene had laughed and made a swipe at her tears. “That my children fail at everything? No,” she’d said, sobering, “I failed them.”
He’d chuckled at that. “Don’t you think a lot of parents feel that way? My daughter won’t even talk to me. She hates me—and rightfully so. I wasn’t there for her. I was busy with my job, but I told myself that she was better off being raised by her mother than me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s my own fault. We all make choices. At the time we think they’re the best ones. It isn’t until later, hindsight being twenty-twenty, that we wish we’d done it differently.”
Arlene had nodded. “There are no second chances.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” He’d glanced over at her, her face silhouetted against the night prairie. The Larb Hills had been a deep purple as they paralleled Highway 2. The sky overhead had been a dense dark canopy except for the twinkling lights of a zillion stars. Hank had never seen so many stars.
