“Do you have any doubt that you love Dylan?” the counselor asked. Such a simple question, with a not-so-simple answer.
“I didn’t, until he told me to grow up. That made me mad, but now I’ve thought about it, I was acting like a spoiled, self-centered brat. What I learned about my mother shook me up.”
“And now you have that cleared up, don’t you?”
“Well, at least I know what happened, why she never came back. I mean, she couldn’t, right? Because she was dead. But what if she hadn’t died? Would she have come back, or would she have made a new life with this other man and her new baby? I don’t know that and I’ll never know.”
“No, you won’t. No amount of brooding about it will change that. What else could you do to move on?”
His challenge put the responsibility right back on her, and Alex knew in that moment that she could either continue to be a pain in the ass, or she could grow up. Handle her shit. Move on. To do that, she would have to stop thinking about only herself and her own feelings. She’d have to start thinking about others, and how her actions and attitude affected them. She’d treated Dylan very badly!
“I don’t know how to apologize to him and get over what I’ve done. He told me to stay away from the Patriots, and I should have listened. I’m glad I didn’t though, except for how it’s going to make him feel. If I’d stayed away from them, I wouldn’t know about my mother.”
“Life isn’t always cut and dried, Alex. But when you love someone, you own up to your mistakes and then you move on.”
“What if he can’t forgive me?” Alex put her hand to her mouth and bit at a hangnail, and then put her hand under her leg to stop fidgeting.
“Well, that would tell you something about his true feelings. But from what you’ve told me about him before, I have a feeling he will. You won’t know until you try.”
Alex sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to find out the hard way. First I have to go talk to my dad. I have to tell him about Mom in person.”
“Have you forgiven him for not telling you about her before?”
“I guess.” Alex looked away.
“You might want to do that before you talk to him, if you want to have a relationship with him afterward. I wouldn’t suggest you take him that news while still angry. He might feel that you were exacting revenge for his failure to tell you the truth about your mother.”
Alex brought her head up sharply, a frown forming as she spoke. “No! I mean, I don’t want to hurt him. I just feel he needs to know.”
“Of course he does, and what you just said tells me you have forgiven him. So now, tell me what you’re going to do.”
Obediently, Alex summarized her plan. “I’m going to leave here and drive to Dodge to talk to my dad. I’ll spend the night, and then tomorrow I’ll drive to Tempe with my things and move in with Dylan, if he still wants me. I’ll apologize for the way I’ve been acting, and try to put this behind me.”
Alex left her counselor’s office feeling more confident and in control than she had in days. She had the beginnings of a plan, but the remainder would depend on Dylan. She was calm about that. Her counselor had made her understand that Dylan’s decisions were his own and she couldn’t control them. If she had screwed up their relationship, she’d have to think about how to move forward. But a warm glow around her heart when she thought about Dylan gave her hope that it wasn’t too late for them.
One thing was certain. Whatever she decided to do now, it wouldn’t be staying in Casa Grande. Many of the Patriots had been caught thanks to her, but she had no doubt others were out there somewhere, and her cover had been blown big-time. It remained to be seen whether they’d pursue her into a bigger town, where she could remain less visible.
All bets were off should she score a reporting job on a Phoenix TV station. She’d have to cross that bridge when she came to it. Realizing she was thinking in clichés, Alex shook herself again, this time physically.
Pull yourself together, girl. You’ve got a dad to devastate.
Alex had told the detective she thought they had the wrong man in jail for the murder of the woman she believed to be her mother. Arrangements were being made for a DNA test she thought might be unpleasant. But it was necessary for closure, even though she was morally certain her conclusions were right.
Legally, more hard evidence than a string of logical leaps would be needed to prove his innocence. Even if the remains did prove to be her mother, proving her death to be an accident—or suicide—would be another leap. Harvey Lloyd may or may not spend the rest of his life in prison for a murder he may or may not have committed. That wasn’t her concern. He’d no doubt murdered or caused the murder of others, so justice was being served anyway, even if it was for the wrong crime.
What concerned her was convincing her father. He’d lived in denial for so long. On the long drive to Dodge, she rehearsed several different approaches, but couldn’t decide on the best one. Waving at Rick, who was following her, she pulled over in Gila Bend.
“What’s up?” Rick asked, as he pulled up beside her and rolled down his window.
“Coffee. This was probably a bad idea without a nap. I didn’t sleep much last night.”
“You got that right. Here, I’ll get it, my treat. I could use some too. In fact, let’s go in and drink it here, take a break from the road for a minute.”
“Okay. Rick, I’ve been thinking. Do you think I should tell Dad what I think I’ve found out about Mom before the DNA confirmation comes back?”
“You’re certain it will be a confirmation?”
Alex shook her head at Rick’s habit of answering a question with a question, and then changed it to a nod. “Yeah. I can feel it’s right. My mom was depressed, maybe bi-polar, from the behavior people have described. She was severely depressed after she had me, but Dad told me they didn’t understand it very well back then. I doubt she got help. From what my dad's said about her, she must have felt helpless when she found herself pregnant by another man, her life falling apart and another baby on the way. I can see it, can’t you?”
“Awful way to do it, walking in front of a train,” Rick observed. He took a cautious sip of his hot coffee and looked out the window.
“Yeah, I don’t want to talk about that, or think about it. Maybe Dad would be better off not knowing.”
Rick met her eyes again. “Do you really believe that?”
Alex stared at the dark liquid for a minute before she answered. “No. He needs to move on. He’s still young enough to find happiness, and I’ve got a hunch it’s already waiting at his doorstep if he lets go of Mom.”
“I think you’re right, Alex. You’ve dedicated your life to seeking the truth, and you’ve served it in spite of personal danger more than once. Hiding it now seems out of character.” Rick held her gaze with an open and sincere expression, until it was Alex’s turn to look away.
“You’re right. That gives me some clarity on what comes next, too. Thanks, Rick.”
“No charge,” he deadpanned. Then he smiled at her. “You’re quite a remarkable young lady, Alex Ward. I’m proud to be your friend.”
“I thought you were my lawyer,” she said, grinning. Both of them recalled the nearly identical words he’d once snapped at Dylan.
“That, too. To whom should I send the bill for this little jaunt?”
“Um,” Alex said, caught off guard. She should pay it herself. She was an adult, and her dad couldn’t afford to keep paying Rick to bail her out of trouble. Neither could she, for that matter. “Do you have a payment plan?”
Rick laughed. “We’ll work something out, kiddo. Come on, let’s get this over with so we can both hit the sack.”
Alex made the rest of the drive with more confidence she was doing the right thing. She’d talk to her dad, spend the night, and then head for Tempe. She had a house to move into, and a family waiting anxiously for her to get home.
TWENTY-SEVEN
“So, even though I’m pre
tty sure, I gave a swab to the police lab for DNA. They’ll try to get some from the bone marrow to match it, and when it does, we’ll be able to bring Mom home and give her a decent burial.”
Alex concluded her story and ventured a peek at her dad’s face. She’d kept her eyes off him after she started telling the story, not wanting to intrude on his grief. She’d been right to do so. Her poor dad looked like a train had hit him.
“How…” It was the first word he’d spoken since she sat him down and told him she knew what happened to her mom. He’d seen the story on TV of her sojourn with the Patriots, and they’d gotten all of the necessary stuff out of the way before she brought it up. Yes, she’d been foolhardy. She wouldn’t do it again (this with her fingers crossed). No, she hadn’t suffered any harm, just a bad scare.
And then it had been time to tell him she’d heard something she was ninety-five percent sure was about her mom. He’d started to answer, but she shushed him.
“Let me tell it my way, Dad. Then we can talk about it. Be strong, this isn’t an easy story.”
His face settled into resignation, and he nodded. She started with the brutal truth, hastily averting her eyes from the shock in his, and then went back for the detail that made the connections for her.
Now he was struggling with what to say or ask first. Finally, he held his arms out to her and she rushed into them, daughter comforting father and father soothing daughter. She felt his acceptance of the truth in the shaky but tight hug he gave her. After a few minutes of tears and sighs, she pulled back and really looked at her dad for a change.
I’m too self-absorbed. When did he get this old?
“Dad, would you like me to call someone? Jen or Wanda? Or do you want to start making arrangements? We’ll have a memorial service, won’t we?”
“Yes, I think so. But not until the confirmation. I’d like to keep it quiet until then. I’ll tell Jen. We’d better have Dylan with us when we tell Wanda. Did you know she’s given him medical power of attorney?”
“No, I didn’t. Is she… sicker than I thought?”
“I don’t think she’s in immediate danger, but she’s got to avoid stress. I think this news can wait, don’t you?” Her dad gave her a pleading look and she understood it wasn’t only for Wanda’s sake. He wanted time to absorb it himself.
“Sure, Dad. Do you need me to stay another day? I thought I’d spend the night and then head for Tempe. I’m already late registering.”
“No, that’s fine. Are you and Dylan okay? He told me you were having a bit of a communications issue.”
Dad’s color was already returning, she saw. Alex laughed, and said, “I guess you could call it that. I’ve been avoiding his calls so he couldn’t tell me not to do what I wanted to do.”
“Bad habit, kiddo. Dylan’s got a good head on his shoulders. You might want to listen to him now and then.”
“I know, Dad. He was right, it was dangerous. But without it, we wouldn’t have learned how they sign their attacks, and I wouldn’t know what happened to Mom. It was worth the risk.”
“Only because you’re safe now. If something had happened to you…”
“It didn’t, okay? I’m done with them, and moving away. If I leave them alone from now on, they’ll probably leave me alone, too.” Alex got up and started for the kitchen. “Want me to make some dinner?”
“Wait a minute. You said they sign their attacks? What do you mean?”
Alex clapped her hand over her mouth. “You can’t print that, Dad. It’s something the police had me hold back.”
“Oh. Well, I wasn’t going to print it, unless you’d like to write the story. I guess you can’t tell me, huh?”
“Can’t tell him what?” Rick stood in the doorway. “Sorry to just walk in. I guess you guys didn’t hear me knock.”
“Hi, Rick,” said Alex. “I was just going to fix some dinner. Want to stay?”
“Sure. What can’t you tell him?”
“Hey, I’m right here,” said her dad.
“What can’t she tell you?”
“You’re a persistent bugger, aren’t you?” her dad grumbled.
Alex smiled at Rick and shook her head at her dad. “Yes, I can tell you. I trust you not to let it go any further. The Patriots leave a small P somewhere, carved either into the victim or at the crime scene. When I convinced the police they were behind the attack on Dawn, they went to the place it happened and found the P scratched into the concrete barrier. About the size of a quarter, easy to miss.”
“Why do they do that? Doesn’t it mean they’re more likely to get caught?” Alex’s dad was looking to Rick for the answer.
“We don’t know yet, but it’s been going on since before Harvey Lloyd was convicted. I personally think it’s like counting coup.” Rick grinned as Alex shook her head.
“But the tribes around here don’t do that,” she said.
“The Apache did.” Rick and her dad said it at almost the same time, and Rick added, “Coke.” Then he punched her dad lightly in the arm.
“Jeez, how old are you, twelve?” her dad grumbled, pretending to be hurt and rubbing his arm.
“Well, we don’t know why they do it, but the police are going to interview Harvey Lloyd and see if he’ll tell them. They’re going to tell him there’s a possibility of a new trial because there may be new evidence that will clear him. Maybe it will be enough.”
“Will it really clear him?” Her dad was again addressing Rick.
“Who knows? All they’re going to say is maybe.”
Alex finally escaped into the kitchen and started looking for something that would be quick and serve three. It was good to be home for a while, with two of her favorite people arguing good-naturedly in the background. It was even better to know her dad would recover quickly from the news about her mom. She hadn’t expected that.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Dylan and Alex were finally communicating more than once a day again, a welcome return to what he considered the norm. He went to work on Tuesday full of anticipation. Not only would this be his first day on his new job, but he expected Alex to arrive shortly after he got home in the afternoon.
He knew she had gone in person to Dodge with news about her mother, but she hadn’t told him the whole story yet. He couldn’t get a read on it. Alex was happy about being reconciled with her dad. If she was happy about finding her mom, he couldn’t tell.
She was still puzzled about one thing, and they’d discussed it. Dylan assumed the police would get to the bottom of it, even as he understood how much Alex wanted to solve the mystery. Why had the Patriots, who’d always been a one-issue group, suddenly changed their focus from Latinos to Native Americans?
Dylan had to admit it made no sense to him, either. Rather than discuss it to death, he’d prefer to let the police do their job and worm it out of someone inside the organization.
When he thought about the risk Alex had taken, Dylan by turns was enraged and retroactively terrified for her. She would have to promise not to do anything so risky again, or it was a deal breaker. Or, so he told himself. Deep down he knew he’d forgive her again and again if he had to.
The question of the day was whether to make Alex’s homecoming special by taking her and the kids out to dinner, or might she prefer a cozy meal at home, some quality time with the kids and then a romantic evening after the boys went to bed? No reason they couldn’t have the last no matter which choice, of course. He asked the boys, dinner at home or at a restaurant.
“Mickey Ds!” Davi shouted. It was already his favorite restaurant after only two whole days in the larger town.
“I don’t think so, buddy. It needs to be a nicer one than that,” Dylan explained. “Unless you think she’d like to stay home with just us. Then I’ll cook dinner.”
“I think you should choose a restaurant,” Juan said. With an earnest expression, he explained his reasoning. “You’re not a very good cook.”
Dylan laughed. “A restaurant it is. I
know. She never gets to cook fish, because her dad hates it. Shall we go to a seafood restaurant?” He realized his mistake when both boys turned dubious faces on him. “Ok, let’s let her decide. You guys go wash your hands and faces. And change your shirts if you’re dirty. We want Alex to know we got all cleaned up for her, right?”
Better change my own shirt.
Dylan was already wearing civilian clothes, because his Forest Service uniforms wouldn’t arrive for a week or so. He was anxious to get out on patrol, but he’d be desk-bound until he was properly outfitted. Still, a fresh shirt wouldn’t hurt. He was pulling a polo shirt over his head when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it!” yelled Davi. Dylan raced to avert the disaster and arrived just in time to see Davi fling the door open and charge Alex. She was laughing when he took the couple of steps necessary to grab her before she was knocked off the porch.
“Easy, buddy,” he said to Davi. Eyes shining, he took Alex in his arms. She felt so good there. There was nothing like hugging the woman you loved. He eased up only enough to dip his head for a lingering kiss. Davi cut that short with an editorial comment. “Ew.”
Alex laughed again and wriggled free. “Come here, Davi, I want a kiss from you, too.” The child took off with Alex in hot pursuit. When she caught him, she picked him up, barely able to hold him as he struggled, and kissed him all over his face. Then she set him down. “Wow, you’ve grown a foot! And you’re almost too heavy for me. Dylan will have to catch you and hold you for me from now on.”
Davi threw her a wild-eyed look before he ran down the hall, vigorously rubbing his face with both hands.
“He’s rubbing off your kisses,” Dylan teased.
“No he isn’t, he’s rubbing them in. Where’s the little professor?” she asked.
Fatal Intent (Desert Heat Book 3) Page 17
