There was no missing that Frank misread her attitude and took pleasure in it. “You do work at making things tougher on yourself.”
It was all she could do not to shudder in revulsion as she felt his gaze moving over her. She knew he was reliving what he’d done last night and urging her to remember the crude things he’d said. The temptation to tell him exactly what kind of lowlife she considered him forced her to reach into her pocket to close her fingers around the square of embroidered linen, a keepsake that helped her stay focused.
“I don’t see your wallet,” he said when he realized she wouldn’t rise to his baiting. “Did you bring your license with you?”
“Sorry.”
“I bet you are. You’re the first woman I’ve met who went anywhere without her bag. Most of you females can’t leave the house without carrying half of it with you.”
She drew out the bill Gray had given her for his meal, and a five of her own. Gerri Rose brought the teas and made change, which Sasha waved away. “Doctor Slaughter said that was yours.”
“Thanks.” She pocketed the cash. “Gotta admit, he’s one of my best tippers.”
“That’s our Saint Gray,” Frank drawled. “Always caring and considerate of the so-called gentler sex.”
“You could do with a lesson or two,” Gerri Rose murmured as she sacked the tea.
“Complaining, baby? I’m the one with the scratch marks on my back.”
Gerri Rose’s cheeks blazed hot pink. “Will you shut up.” She glanced over at the table of old men, and then back at the cook.
“Just telling it like it is,” he replied, turning to grin at Sasha. “You should try it yourself, sugar. Gerri Rose here sees Gray like some tragic hero. Tell her how the sneaky rat was the one who suggested you hire J.M. to try to humiliate me.”
Gerri Rose was as unassuming as she looked. “He’s the only lawyer in these parts. If you say she needs one, I reckon it would have to be J.M.”
“That’s not why I asked for your uncle to accompany me,” Sasha said, fed up with the cop. She made sure her gaze held Gerri Rose’s. “I found out last night how safe it is to be alone with your…friend. And I’d prefer not to be put in that predicament again.”
Someone behind her choked then coughed, and the chief cast them a glowering look before replying, “You don’t seem to have learned much from the experience. That mouth is still too loose for its own good.”
Gerri Rose glanced from Sasha to Frank, her young face showing too much of what she was thinking. Sasha lowered her gaze, unwilling to worry for the innocent who was, sad to say, in for a great deal of grief if she didn’t wise up.
“What’re y’all talking about? Frank, I don’t like this.”
“Police business, baby. That’s all.”
Sasha leaned closer to Gerri Rose. “You look like a nice person—and smarter than he wants to believe.”
“She’s twenty-one,” Elias declared. “Leave her alone.”
“To what end, wasting her best years in this fabulous hub of civilization where she thinks you’re as good as it gets?”
“Want to take her place?”
The outrageous question had Gerri Rose snatching up a wet wash rag and throwing it at him. “Frank!”
“You’re wasting your breath, Mrs. Pike,” Sasha said with sincere compassion for the woman. “If you’re looking for sensitivity or discretion, you’d better take a second look at what’s at home. People like the chief here aren’t big on faithfulness. It’s all about quantity, not quality, eh, Frank?”
Gerri Rose’s bosom heaved, her trembling chin jutted. “You son of a bitch, Frank. What have you done now? What’s she talking about?”
Elias behaved as though he hadn’t heard her. He only had eyes for Sasha. “What I want to know is what’s made you stay with him?”
It was the strangest question, and yet Sasha understood. Frank saw nothing, knew nothing but his resentment and jealousy of Gray Slaughter. “I’m not going to bother trying to explain it to you,” she replied, “because you wouldn’t understand.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“I rest my case.”
Once again there was a whisper of reaction suggesting approval from their meager audience. Incensed, Frank swept his dishes off the counter and rose. “You think you’ve got him? He’ll never get over Mo. Try being smug while dealing with that, bitch!”
The glass in the ancient wood-frame door should have fallen out as Frank slammed it behind him. In the aftermath, everyone behaved with self-consciousness, as though realizing something unhealthy had occurred that they wanted no part of. A couple of the old men rose and shuffled out. The others sighed and bowed their heads even lower over their empty plates and coffee mugs.
Gerri Rose wanted to say something, but clearly had difficulty summoning the nerve. Finally, she stepped close to the counter and glared at Sasha. “You take your trash mouth and your inflated boobs and go make trouble for someone else. I feel sorry for Doc if he thinks you’re anywhere close to a replacement for Mo.”
As she spun away, Sasha bowed her own head. What on earth did she say to such a child?
“Order!” the chef called.
Gerri Rose recklessly bagged the food and shoved it at her.
Sasha reached out and gripped the girl’s slender wrist. “Listen to me. I am no problem for you. But he is your nightmare. Do yourself a favor and—”
Jerking free, Gerri Rose backed away until she came up against the back counter. “You’ve got nothing to say that I want to hear.”
It wasn’t the worst experience in her life to walk out of there with every pair of eyes staring after her. She’d dealt with drunks puking at her feet, angry men urinating on her patrol car, in her patrol car, mothers spitting at her because they wouldn’t accept that their sons could commit murder. No, this was nothing worth her peace of mind…and yet it added to her depression.
Outside Sasha drew in a deep breath, wanting to rid herself of the deep-fried hostility behind her. Although he’d exploded, maybe Elias would back off some, now that more people in town were on to him. But what would help more is if J.M. called about that insurance inspector.
About to head back toward the clinic, Sasha’s gaze was drawn to the unusually loud bird chatter across the street in a huge old cedar. She’d missed the building last night because of the cinder-block wall covered with vines that hid half the property. “Public Library,” she whispered, reading the polished steel sign.
Right now one thing about libraries drew her interest—they were all beneficiaries of grants, and had computers.
18
Sasha crossed the sun-baked road, wondering what would melt first before she reached the other side, the soles of her shoes or her brain. As for the library, she wondered whether it was a grant or bequeathal from some late rancher that had created such an artistic structure in such a tiny and otherwise haphazardly designed community. The whitewashed cinder-block building resembled a mini– Guggenheim Museum. It suggested that once the residents of this town weren’t as apathetic and lost as they seemed to be now.
Inside she discovered the library was even darker and more deserted than the café but carefully attended. An unsmiling, all-business woman stood in the octagonal workstation in the center of the main room. Sasha suspected her gray suit and white blouse hadn’t been chosen to match her permed and coiffed hair, but rather out of pride for her position. It would have been reassuring if the woman had been wearing a quilted vest with a clunky dough pin featuring her grandchildren’s smiling faces. Nevertheless, Sasha summoned a pleasant smile and walked up to the counter.
The woman immediately stopped studying her printout and slipped off her reading glasses, letting them rest by their rope around her neck. She offered no welcoming smile in return.
“Hello,” Sasha began. “Do you have a computer I could use for a few minutes to look up some information?” She already knew they did, she’d done a quick scan of the place as she entered, s
potting one to her left.
The woman glanced down at the bag Sasha held. “Is that what I think it is? Food is prohibited in the library.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t think of eating in here. I’m about to deliver this, but I need to research something online for a second, and then I’ll be on my way.”
“And you are…?”
“Anna Diaz.”
Still attractive in a strong-boned way, the woman lifted her head as though to study Sasha through the glasses she’d removed. “I don’t know you.”
“No, you wouldn’t. I’m not from around here.”
With the dignified stature of a justice, the woman nodded as though that information resolved everything. “The computer is for the use of our residents. It’s supplied on a grant, specifically for that purpose.”
Trying not to look amused because they were whispering in the empty chamber, Sasha scanned the quiet room, finally settling her gaze on the object of discussion. “But no one is using it.” As far as she could tell, no one else was in the building besides them.
“At the moment. However, that’s not to say someone won’t walk in any minute.”
“Fair enough. If that happens, I’ll give up my place without a complaint. And I’ll happily pay you for the use regardless.” She hoped the woman would be softened by the offer of a fee, if not swayed by her politeness.
The librarian’s gaze drifted over Sasha. “We can’t let just anyone come and use the equipment. It’s very sensitive.”
“I do appreciate that.” Sasha understood that she’d been sized up, and because of her casual attire been classified as trailer trash or worse. “Would it reassure you to know that I’ve used computers for years, and I’m quite familiar with them?”
Looking unconvinced, the librarian gave Sasha another once-over, but her cool demeanor remained unchanged. “There’s no way I can be sure of that, is there? Do you have references?”
“Do you know Dr. Slaughter? Gray Slaughter?”
The woman drew herself erect. “I’m afraid I do.”
Sasha hesitated, admittedly curious. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Had she heard from Elias, or was it old gossip?
“Let’s just say he’s not the gentleman his father was,” the woman replied.
If so, he apparently wasn’t the only one, Sasha thought. “Well, Dr. Slaughter is treating my dog, who was injured on the road.” As soon as she spoke she realized her error.
“Is that supposed to reassure me? Not only are you confirming that you’re careless with your pet, you’re dealing with a man not even fractionally committed to his profession.”
Before Sasha could attempt to explain, the door opened. She glanced over her shoulder and saw an eager-faced boy of no more than ten enter. He waved at the librarian, adding a “Hi, Grandma,” and went straight to the computer.
Sasha couldn’t help but laugh. “Well done,” she told the librarian who had the grace to blush. “I’ll pass on your best wishes to Doc Slaughter.”
Once outside, she stood on the sidewalk, her appreciation for being outmaneuvered evaporating the way a single raindrop would on this sun-baked concrete. Defeat and heat beat at her in alternating waves. There was no question that it was time to get back to the clinic before the food she was carrying became a modern-art project of its own, but disappointment stayed her. She’d so needed a chance to see what was happening in Vegas before Elias did take her license.
As she began down the curving sidewalk, she heard a vehicle on the road behind the library. The sound affected her like a commercial jingle you didn’t really like, but was imbedded in your memory anyway.
Pausing to glance back, she saw a truck emerge from behind the far privacy wall. As it made a right at the corner, she heard a familiar miss in the engine.
That was it!
As the truck disappeared around an empty building with another For Rent sign, she took off after it. The bag and her wound cut her speed, but she hoped that with the road being in terrible condition, the truck couldn’t go too fast. A face-off wasn’t what she was after anyway; she just wanted to get close enough to read the license plate.
As she charged across the street, she heard the deafening blast of a horn…and out of the corner of her eye saw a vehicle bearing down on her.
19
Brakes squealed as Sasha made a desperate attempt to avoid collision, but it was too late. Barely achieving a matador-like twist, she bounced off the side of the patrol car and went flying. She learned again that there was something to the “slow motion” description by people involved in accidents; it did seem to take forever for her to hit the ground. When she did, it was with a brain-jarring finality that played havoc with her vision, so much so that at first she didn’t believe she wasn’t looking into Frank Elias’s car.
“Jeez, are you all right?”
Everything else in her body chose that instant to resume functioning…and register shock and pain. But the voice bled through the chaos and her eyes were working, as well. It wasn’t Elias, thank heaven.
“Lady…miss, are you okay?”
The officer downshifted and bolted from the patrol car; however, it was the icy liquid seeping through the bag and her shirt that snapped Sasha back to full awareness. Despite a sharp, burning pain that told her the bandages on her side had ripped loose, or maybe worse, she rolled to her knees to try to save what was left of the drinks in the sack. One plastic lid was only partially loosened, but the other was badly cracked and the foam cup crushed. The food containers weren’t in much better shape.
She could only gasp and wheeze as she tried to avoid the awful sensations as the patrolman helped her to her feet.
“Ma’am? Are you hearing impaired?” he asked, ducking to look into her face.
“What? No, I’m fine. Just wet, sore and humiliated.” Or rather, she would be if she could stop the ocean sounds in her ears and decide whether it was her right thigh, butt, elbow or side that hurt more. As she brushed dirt and gravel off herself, she glanced back at where she’d fallen and knew she should count her blessings for not having hit her head on the curb.
“I know this is a quiet street and all,” the youthful cop continued. His voice was high and unsteady, exposing his own state. “But you can’t be zipping around without looking where you’re going.”
Good Lord, Sasha thought, blinking as she really looked at him for the first time. He was Opie all grown up. Of course, within seconds, her memory corrected itself and she recalled the movie director who’d played that famous TV character. She would have laughed at herself if it wasn’t for the pain. “You’re right, Officer. I apologize.”
“Who are you? I don’t believe I’ve seen you around before.”
That’s all she needed, for him to tell Frank what had happened and where she’d been. With her luck, Elias would think she was trying to run away, the same way Gray would if she didn’t get back.
“No, I’m just passing through.” As she shifted her hold to keep the contents from breaking through the disintegrating bottom of the sack, she took a step backward. “I’ll be more careful. Thank you, Officer.”
“Kenny. Uh, Ken Plummer. Can I drive you somewhere, Miss—?”
God, he was young, Sasha thought, shaking her head and continuing her retreat. The reddish-blond hair and freckles, far more pronounced than Gerri Rose’s, accentuated that. And he couldn’t weigh more than her, he was so slightly built. “I appreciate it, but I’m only up this way.”
Looking understandably perplexed, he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “But you were headed that way. Ma’am,” he called after her as she made an ungraceful turn and hobbled across the library’s property, “your elbow’s bleeding. I really should—”
“Gotta deliver this,” she called back. “Thanks again!”
Sasha broke into a painful trot, wanting to duck around the Main Street wall as fast as possible, then she made another reckless dash across the road. Thankfully, this time there was no traffic.
Afraid that young Plummer might insist on being gallant and follow to make sure she made it okay, she ducked behind the café to return to the clinic the back way like before. She couldn’t help but notice that the old-timers who’d been in the café were still there and watching her. Even though there was no sign of Gerri Rose, the condition of her clothes and her odd behavior would no doubt offer plenty of speculation guaranteeing that the girl would hear sooner rather than later. And tell Elias?
“Just one break, that’s all I’m asking for,” she muttered under her breath.
By the time she entered the back door of the clinic, she couldn’t deny that the tackle last night, combined with this fall, were taking their toll on her.
Gray came backing out of the kennel. “Let me guess, they were out of chicken-fried steak and you helped them shoot and process a cow?”
He hadn’t looked up because he was rolling the wheeled bucket to the washroom. That gave Sasha time to peek into the kennel, now reeking from the smell of pine cleaner. Jessie was locked up again, but in a different cage. Her ears lifted as the dog spotted her and gave a happy-sounding “woof.”
“Uh-oh, what happened?” she asked.
“You don’t want to know, not if you plan to eat,” Gray replied from the bathroom across the hall. “Suffice it to say, your friend is either having a reaction to the medication or else she isn’t housebroken.”
“She was fine when I left.”
“Maybe that’s the point. Could be she got stressed thinking the one person who’d been nice to her had abandoned her. I’m a vet not a psychic or analyst.”
And she was in pain, and she needed his bad humor about as much as the mongrel’s fixation. “All I’m saying is that I wasn’t gone that long.” She continued down the hall and into the kitchen area.
“Long enough for her. Long enough for Frank to stop by and spread more of his own personal brand of goodwill.”
Sasha heard him dumping the contents of the pail down the commode, then run fresh water into the bucket from the deep industrial-size sink.
Final Stand Page 12
