by Dee Davis
“Poor Ruth,” her mother said, her own eyes misting over. “Such a tragedy. If only I’d insisted that they come with me.”
Elizabeth’s friend Kay had called to invite her to a movie. Ruth had been included in the invitation, but she’d declined, choosing instead to stay in with her boyfriend. Now they were both dead.
“There’s no way you could have known what was going to happen. No one could have.” Except maybe Last Chance, but Sam wasn’t going to let herself go there right now. “At least you can take comfort in the fact that they went quickly.”
Considering their proximity to the seat, and the condition of their remains, she was telling her mother the truth. The person who’d planted the bomb hadn’t intended anyone to live through the blast. But then he hadn’t counted on Sam’s mother.
“I’m not blaming myself.” Her mother shook her head. “Not really. It just seems so sad. They had so much of their lives ahead of them.”
Better them than you, Sam thought, then immediately was ashamed. It was a natural feeling, but one she wasn’t proud of. No one had deserved to die here. And if she’d been more proficient at her job, maybe she’d have found a way to prevent it from happening at all.
“Now who’s blaming themselves?” Her mother squeezed her hands and then released them. “I’ve been following this thing in the papers and from what I can tell you’ve done all that you could.”
Sam was surprised to learn her mother was even aware she’d been on the case, but then again it would be hard to have missed the media frenzy surrounding the senators’ deaths. “I know you’re right. At least intellectually, I buy into the idea. But emotionally—oh God, Mom, I could have lost you.”
“But you didn’t. Honey, I’m right here, sitting in front of you, thinking about erecting a chapel in thanks to Kay Armstrong. It wasn’t even a good movie.” Her mother’s smile was rueful, and despite the gravity of the situation, they both laughed. “Cullen Pulaski certainly knows how to put on the ritz.” She turned to look around the lavish suite. “I doubt even Donald Trump lives this well.”
“Cullen wanted you to be safe, and this is the best place until we can get you to Austin.”
Her mother’s expression turned mutinous. “I’ve already told you, I’m not coming to Austin. I’ll just be in the way. I’ll go to Maggie’s. No one will think to look for me there.”
Her mother’s sister lived on a farm in the middle of rural Oklahoma. The nearest neighbor was about twenty miles away. When it came to secluded, Aunt Maggie and Uncle George had the corner on the market. But Sam didn’t like the idea of her mother being out of sight.
“I’d feel better if you stayed with me.”
“You’re going to be busy trying to catch whoever did this,” her mother said with a sigh. “There won’t be time to babysit me. George and Maggie can watch out for me. Besides, that nice young man, Gabriel, said that he’d make sure I had someone to watch over me twenty-four/seven.”
Sam doubted anyone had referred to Gabe as a nice young man in the past ten or fifteen years, but then again maybe it was all about perception. “I know he meant well…” she started and then trailed off at the stubborn look in her mother’s eyes.
“Samantha, I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions. This man, whoever he is, isn’t going to start ruling my life. Besides, you said yourself he doesn’t even know that I’m alive.”
Payton had had the clarity of mind to make certain that as few people as possible knew who Elizabeth was, starting with the police officer who’d refused her entrance to the bomb site. The few who had seen her believed she was in fact Sam’s Aunt Maggie. As far as the press and the public were concerned, Elizabeth Waters had died in the house along with Ruth and her boyfriend.
Cullen had pulled strings to make sure that forensics would concur. This way they could make certain that Elizabeth was safe until they apprehended the bomber. And in addition, the man would believe that he had accomplished his mission, which, hopefully, would buy Sam a little time to try and fit the newest piece of the puzzle into the facts they already had.
She suspected the bomber had believed that his latest act would clarify things, but except for his obvious intent to target her, she couldn’t see a connection to the other two bombings. She’d had an attachment to Walter Atherton, certainly, but nothing like her relationship with her mother, and she’d never even met Ruckland, Dawson or Keith.
“I’m not going to change your mind, am I?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“Not a chance.” Her mother shook her head. “Like mother, like daughter.”
There was truth in that, truth that Sam sometimes over-looked. But now that she’d been given a second chance with her mother she wasn’t about to let it slip away.
“So tell me about your young man.”
Again with the adjective. But this time her mother wasn’t talking about Gabe. Sam swallowed nervously, feeling all of about sixteen, uncertain exactly what to say. Settling instead for denial. “He’s not my young man.”
“Well, he certainly thinks he is.” Her mother settled back against the sofa cushions with a soft smile. “Reminds me of your father. He was always overprotective with me. Not that I really needed it, mind you. But it always made me feel so special to know that he cared that much.”
Sam had always thought her mother allowed her father to push her around. That she’d been overshadowed by Bill’s larger-than-life bluster. She’d never considered the idea that her mother’s actions were conscious choices, decisions based solely on her love for Sam’s father.
It put her mother in a whole new light, and Sam felt guilty for misjudging her.
“We all choose our path in life, darling. Mine was that I loved your father beyond all else. He made me happy. And so either I accepted him as he was, or I let him go. And the latter was never an option. Your father was an adrenaline junkie. They didn’t have a name for it then, but that was it just the same. He would never have been content to take a nine-to-five job and come home every night to his wife and daughter. Although if I’d asked it of him, I believe he’d have tried.” Her mother smiled again, this time lost in memories. “But I never asked. Because I loved him. And because I wanted him to be happy. So I made a home, and I waited until he tired of his military adventures. He always came home to me, Sam. Always.”
“But I couldn’t live like that.” She spoke the words before she had the chance to think about what she was saying, her thoughts centering not on her father, but on Payton.
“Of course not.” Her mother shook her head. “You’re your father’s daughter. You like living on the edge as much as he did. But you’ve also got a deep sense of compassion, Sam. You have a great capacity to love. And it would be a shame if you let that slip away simply because you’re afraid of commitment.”
“I’m not afraid of commitment, Mom. I’m afraid that I won’t be able to live up to what a man wants in a woman. That I’m too much of a free spirit. That I’m too ambitious and smart for my own good.” It sounded sort of vain when she put it into words, and she stared down at her hands, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut.
“Honey, being smart and ambitious isn’t a crime. It’s just that some men can’t handle a woman with beauty and brains. My guess is your Payton isn’t one of them.”
“He isn’t my…” She started to deny it again, but saw from her mother’s look that she wasn’t buying. “I do care about him. But there’s so much in his past. Things I’m not certain he’ll ever be able to get over.”
“There is a sadness in him. I could see it. But he also cares a great deal about you. I could see that, too. And I know that it’s hard to believe, but it’s possible to hold on to memories and still make a future. I’ll love your father forever, Sam. But he died, not me. It took me a while to realize that. But now that I know, I’m not going to bury myself alongside him. It’s not fair to him, it’s not fair to you and it certainly isn’t fair to me.”
Elizabeth re
ached out to stroke Sam’s hair, the sensation comforting in a timeless mother-daughter way. “Unfortunately you can’t take away Payton’s pain, or make him forget what’s past. But you can show him that there’s still something out there worth living for. Maybe it’s as simple as that.”
“Nothing with Payton is simple, Mother.”
“Well, then, my darling,” her mother said with an amused smile, “I’d say the two of you were made for each other.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“THIS THING IS GETTING REALLY UGLY. And I sure as hell don’t like the direction things seem to be heading.” Payton reached for his beer, his seat by the window of the bar giving him a direct view of the entrance to the building they were staying in. He could even see the armed guards standing just inside. Cullen, it seemed, had spared no expense. And for once Payton was in total agreement with the man.
“Targeting Sam, you mean.” Gabe took a swallow from his beer, his eyes circled with exhaustion. The flight in had been grueling and then he’d spent another couple of hours dealing with the police and the press, sending out the story as they’d decided to spin it.
“Yeah. We know she was close to Atherton. And she had at least a tenuous relationship with Elliot. Add in the two bombs in her room, plus this latest attack on her mother and there’s no avoiding the fact that this guy seems to be trying to get her attention. The sixty-four thousand dollar question, of course, is why…?” He trailed off with a shrug, the gesture reflecting a nonchalance he didn’t feel.
“But she has no connection to Ruckland and his cronies.”
“None that have been identified.” Payton blew out a breath. “Hell, maybe the senators really were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Maybe someone else was supposed to have been in the Prager that day. Someone with a connection to Sam.”
“Like Atherton and the others.”
“Exactly,” Gabe agreed. “Or maybe there is a connection between Sam and the senators, something obscure enough that we missed it.”
“Fucking son of a bitch.” Payton slammed his hand down on the table, his control slipping. “I hate this. We’re running around in circles trying to find answers, while this bastard sits back and pulls the strings. People Sam cares about are dying, Gabe, and I can’t do a goddamned thing about it. Hell, for all we know, she could be next.”
“We won’t let that happen,” Gabe said, his tone underscoring his resolve.
Payton met his friend’s gaze, then looked away, pulling his emotions into control. What he needed was a change of topic, something that allowed him to sequester his fears and keep his mind clear.
“How’d the press conference go?”
“Could have been worse, I guess. Biggest problem really was Walker trying to play up the angle that somehow this was all targeted at him.”
“A man with an ego the size of Walker’s probably believes everything is about him. And since we can’t do anything about it, I say we use it. Go ahead and establish the connection between Walker and Ruckland. It’ll keep the media focused there, instead of on Sam and her mother.”
“I’ve already done pretty much just that. I stopped short of announcing the Ruckland/Walker connection. I figure if we could connect the dots, the press will be able to do so, too. Which keeps Walker off of Cullen’s back.”
“I see you’re becoming quite the diplomat.” Payton wasn’t sure he meant the remark as a compliment, and Gabe certainly didn’t take it that way.
“I’m just trying to keep everyone happy.” He took another long pull at his beer. “In the meantime, I’ll spirit Elizabeth out of here tomorrow and see her safely to her sister’s. Cullen’s arranged for around-the-clock protection for the duration, but I want to make sure she gets there myself. It’s the least I can do for Sam.”
“I probably ought to be the one to go.” He hated the idea of leaving Sam, but he wanted to make sure Elizabeth was truly safe.
“I’d rather you stick to Sam. Unless I miss my guess she’s going to be hell-bent on taking this guy out, and I don’t want her doing anything stupid.”
Stupid wasn’t a word Payton would ever associate with Sam, even when she was madder than hell. But he liked the idea of sticking close. All the better to make sure the bomber didn’t get another chance at her. “All right then, we’ll head back to Austin as soon as we know you’re off safely. Sam’s already sent debris from the bomb site to our lab. The rest is going to Georgia. I’m sure she’s going to be anxious to get to work on it.”
“How’s she doing?” Gabe leaned back in his chair, his gaze somber.
“Hell of a lot better since finding out her mother is alive. I don’t think she’d have forgiven herself if something had happened to her mom on her watch.”
“There wasn’t anything she could have done to predict what happened, Payton.”
“Doesn’t matter. She’d have held herself responsible anyway. As soon as she has a chance to get over the shock of today, I imagine she’ll start blaming herself regardless, but at least the loss won’t be as devastating as it could have been.”
“Any connection between Ruth Cramer or her boyfriend and Sam?” Gabe asked with a frown.
“I don’t think so. She says she’d never met either one of them,” Payton said. “The boyfriend’s name was Ronald Adkins. And according to Elizabeth, both he and Ruth were attending the University of New Mexico. They’d been dating about six months. Ruth was from Clayton, on the Texas border. Her parents own a feed store. Elizabeth thought the boy said something about being from Colorado, but she wasn’t certain.”
“The M.E. confirmed ID yet?”
“Yeah. Got dental from the girl from the university, and DNA on the boy.” Payton sipped his beer. “It’s a tentative match on the DNA pending more extensive testing but for all practical purposes we know who they were. Ruth’s parents have been notified. And the Albuquerque PD is working on tracking someone down for Adkins.”
“Talk about wrong place, wrong time…” Gabe’s expression was grim.
“It probably sounds harsh, but I’m just grateful it wasn’t Sam or her mother.”
“It doesn’t sound harsh at all,” Gabe said, watching Payton through hooded eyes. “Bottom line, you care about Sam.”
Payton considered pretending to misunderstand, but abandoned the idea. Gabe would only try another tack. The man was relentless when he wanted information. Better to face it head-on. “Yeah, I do. But it’s nothing serious if that’s where you’re headed.”
“I’m not heading anywhere.” Gabe shrugged. “Just making an observation. And, for the record, I applaud your choice. Sam’s a hell of a lady.”
“She deserves better than anything I can give her,” Payton said, surprised at how bitter he sounded.
“Give me a break. I know you, remember? You’re one of the best friends I have. You and Nigel. And I’m not buying into the ‘I’m no good for her’ crap. Maybe the ‘I’m scared shitless’ crap—” He lifted his beer, his gaze slightly amused.
“Well, there is that.” Payton smiled. Gabe knew him too damn well.
“So take what life is offering you. Give it a chance with Sam.” Gabe held up his hands. “I’ve already said too much. You do what you have to do, okay? But in the meantime at least think about what I said.”
“All right.” Payton’s answer was grudging, but he had to admit Gabe had a point. Maybe it was time to let it go and move on. Trouble was, he wasn’t certain he knew how.
“So where do we go from here?” Gabe asked.
“We try to figure out why the bomber’s targeting Sam,” Payton said, pulling his thoughts back to the present. “It could be as simple as the fact that she’s heading the investigation. Or maybe it’s because she’s the bomb expert. Harrison is still working on her list of enemies. Maybe we’ll find something there. Or maybe there’s a connection beyond all of that. Something personal. The use of the jack-in-the-box certainly seems to support that line of thinking.”
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“The truth is, this bastard hasn’t left us with a whole lot to go on,” Gabe said. “Basically what we’ve got is a bunch of spurious connections that may or may not mean something to this guy. And in order to figure out what his next move is, we’re going to have to find a way to crawl inside his head.”
“Easier said than done.” Payton tightened his grip on the bottle, anger and frustration cresting inside him. “One thing is for certain though, when this guy tried to up the ante with Sam’s mother, he changed the rules of the game.”
“How so?” Gabe asked, his brows drawn together in question.
“He made it personal. For Sam. And more importantly, for me.”
Because no matter how things turned out between them, Payton wasn’t about to let anyone hurt Sam, not as long as there was a breath in his body. And truth be told, there wasn’t a man alive who had made Payton an enemy and lived to tell about it.
SAM SAT IN A CHAIR she’d pulled up to the window, the mountains a dark shadow on the horizon, lights twinkling along the base where people were closing down for the night. She’d opened a window, the breeze cooling, the smell of piñon in the air. There was something about the high desert that made everything seem clearer.
Even sitting at the top of a high-rise in the heart of the city, she could feel it. Her mother was sleeping. The doctor had insisted they both take something for their nerves. Elizabeth had taken hers. Sam had not.
She wanted to keep her wits about her. But the trade-off was that sleep seemed impossible. She wondered if Payton and Gabe were settled into the suite next door. The guards were still standing at the door, and she simply didn’t have the energy to deal with explanations should she decide to try and go over there. She’d face it all in the morning.
Tonight, she’d try and figure out what was on the bomber’s mind. Why he’d decided to target her. And what, if anything, the tie-in to the senators was. The whole thing seemed so convoluted. And despite the fact that they were making progress, the man always seemed to be at least two jumps ahead of them.
