by Linda Conrad
“What do you think, Sal?” Jericho asked from his spot, off to the side. “That red can’t be for real. Can you tell anything about the natural color?”
“Hmm.” Sallie was a woman in her early forties. Maybe a little heavyset for her bones, but her hair and makeup seemed impeccable and her clothes fit perfectly.
She combed Rosie’s hair into sections. “Yeah, looky there. The blond roots are already growing out.
“Now why would you want to cover up your gorgeous ash-blond with that nasty red dye, sugar?”
Rosie lifted her eyebrows. “I don’t know—for sure. But can you put it back to natural?”
Sallie shook her head and studied the hair a little closer. “The only way to totally get rid of the dark red color would be too harsh. I could strip it out, but that would ruin your hair and it still wouldn’t be natural.”
She lifted a section so Rosie could see it clearly in the mirror. “We can lighten it up some. Maybe end up as a strawberry blonde for a while. But the best thing will be to let me cut it shorter so it can grow out quicker.”
“Shorter?” Rosie felt positive she should have long hair. All down her back, if she believed in dreams.
“This…I hesitate to call it a cut…isn’t doing you any favors, hon.” Sallie picked up her shears. “All these split ends and funny angles just call attention to the drastic dye job. Let me style it short for you.
“Think of it this way,” Sallie continued as she combed through the hair once again. “Cutting is one way to get rid of that awful coloring job a lot faster. Then we’ll lighten the rest and before you know it, you’ll be blond again. What do you say?”
“Okay, I guess so.”
Jericho stepped into her view in the mirror. “That’s fine. You’ll be good here for a while, right? I’m going over to speak to the deputy. He needs to revise his bulletin and recheck with the people around the county.
“We’ve been asking about a redhead when we should’ve been checking for any word on a blonde.” With that, he tipped his hat at Sallie. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. That do?”
“Sure, Sheriff.” Sallie watched Jericho leave with an admiring gleam in her eyes. “That there is sure one fine-looking man. If I wasn’t already married…” Her voice trailed off, leaving no question what she’d do.
Yes, Jericho surely was fine-looking. And a fine-quality man, too.
Rosie suspected that Jericho would turn out to be the best man she had ever known. Over the last two days, between hiding for her life and almost having sex, she had fallen in love with him. And she had a strong sense that he felt the same way about her. Now all she had to do was prove it to him. There had to be some way to make him see that the two of them belonged together.
Rosie was determined to find it.
Deputy Rawlins checked his watch and discovered it was past five o’clock. It’d been a long, discouraging night last night and he should’ve been off the clock long ago. But he wanted to make just one more stop before he headed home this afternoon.
He’d already checked with some of the truckers at the truck stop yesterday. But today he had new information.
For fifteen minutes Adam spoke to as many of the drivers as he could find. Finally, he’d found one who claimed to know something.
“Yeah, I gave a ride to a drop-dead gorgeous blonde,” the long-haul trucker said. “Five days ago. I have it in my log. A real looker, that one. She’d be hard to forget.”
Adam asked for a better description.
“Oh man, hair and legs down to there,” the driver said with a grin. “And a shape worth losing your job over—if you know what I mean.”
Though not a perfect description, Adam figured it was close enough. “Can you tell me where you picked her up and dropped her off?”
“Sure. I picked her up sixty miles or so north on the interstate. Between Austin and San Antonio. At a joint called Stubbins Barbeque. You ever heard of the place?”
“Yeah,” Adam said. He’d eaten there, the place was famous. “The food’s good, even if the patrons are on the rowdy side.”
The driver nodded. “Don’t know that the lady ate anything. I’d eaten earlier, but old Charlie Stubbins lets drivers catch a few hours sleep in the back of his lot. So I was just about to get underway again when I spotted this babe running down the side of the highway. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. I figured a couple hours in the cab with a broad who looked like that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. You know?”
Adam nodded, then continued, “Where’d you drop her?”
“I was heading across the border. Let her out just this side of the river, in the town of Rio View.”
Adam got the driver’s name, address and number, then sent him on his way. Jericho should be pleased with this new info.
At least now they had a handle on where to start looking. All they had left to do was ask a million questions at both ends until something popped.
And at the same time, they’d better keep watch on their backsides for an ambush. Adam didn’t like it, but he guessed that this kind of thing was all part of the job.
Chapter 10
T he hired gunman called Arnie eased his stolen pickup into the dark lot of a roadside bar near the Mexican border. He found a spot to park on the caliche and got out. At long past the midnight hour, and considering it was during the middle of the week, the place seemed usually packed. Dirty trucks and well-used four-wheel-drive SUVs squeezed into every inch.
Grateful to have already made it over the border and back, Arnie gave a moment’s thought to his previous partner. He’d left Petey in that medical clinic in Ciudad Acuna. No one there spoke much English, but the medicos managed to treat Petey’s wound and more or less agreed to keep him in the clinic until his arm healed. Arnie had just been glad it was cheap.
Also thankful that their employer had given him another chance, Arnie figured otherwise he would probably be dead right now. But this time around, the boss wanted things to go differently. And whatever the boss wanted, Arnie was willing to do. It would keep him alive a few days longer.
That’s why Arnie was about to walk into this rough, sleazy out-of-the-way nightspot. The meeting had been set up for 1:00 a.m., and Arnie hoped to hell he managed to leave by 2:00 a.m. with both a new partner and a new plan. Most of all, he hoped to get out of the place alive and in one piece. If this turned out to be a setup, he would never know what hit him.
Inside, after his eyes got used to the low lighting, Arnie spotted the man he was supposed to meet. Located at a table in a dimly lit corner, the guy was sitting with his back to the wall. A group of dangerous-looking hangers-on surrounded him, leaning their elbows on his table. A chill ran up Arnie’s spine as the man in the middle of things tilted his head and shot him a narrowed-eyed stare across the smoky room.
He’d seen this man before, of course. In a much different context. But even tonight in this backwater bar, the guy carried an air of respect. His dark brown hair had not a strand out of place. His lips turned up in a kind of sneer as his eyes followed Arnie’s movements. But when Arnie got closer he saw that a dimple marred the strength in the man’s craggy cheek. A shift in the guy’s position at the table as he raised his bottle of beer caused a small beam of light to glint against the metal badge affixed to his breast pocket.
Swallowing his fear, Arnie gathered his courage as he strode through the crowds. It was too late to ask how he’d gotten himself into this.
Too late to do anything differently either. Arnie braced himself for the worst—and hoped to hell it would end with the best.
Rosie awoke sick to her stomach again the next morning. But she was no longer in Jericho’s guest bedroom. Despite her protests, last night he had delivered her to his best friend’s Bar None ranch for the night. Clay Colton and Tamara Brown were lovely hosts, but they simply could never replace the man she loved.
Rolling out of bed, she tiptoed into the guest bath and lost whatever was left of the contents of her
stomach. Today’s morning sickness was a big fat reminder of yesterday. But similar as it was, last night there had been no dreams. Not even one fuzzy glimpse of her past. She wondered if that was because she was no longer in close proximity to Jericho. Perhaps he was the catalyst for her returning memories. If so, that might be a good excuse to stay near him.
Washing her face and brushing her teeth, Rosie couldn’t help feeling somewhat lost without the security of Jericho nearby. This morning Tamara had promised to take her shopping for clothes at a mall she frequented just this side of San Antonio. But afterward Rosie was scheduled to spend the rest of the day with Jericho, trying to trace her movements on the days before she lost her memory.
Checking out her new hairdo in the bathroom mirror, Rosie was pleased with what she saw. The stylish cut and lighter color made her look almost sophisticated. Sallie had given her a little makeup, too, and as she applied a touch of lip gloss a picture began to form in her mind.
A picture of herself, in a dark gray business suit and crisp white blouse, getting ready for work. So…she must have a job. But if she did, why hadn’t her boss reported her missing?
Why hadn’t anyone reported her missing? Didn’t she even have any friends that missed her?
Becoming frustrated once again, Rosie put away all her unanswerable questions and finished getting dressed. If that’s the way her old life had been—no friends, a boss who didn’t care if she showed up, and a husband or boyfriend who couldn’t be bothered to report her missing—then she didn’t want to remember.
She decided not to buy anything that looked like a business suit today when they went shopping. Getting something that was right for Esperanza, Texas—and its sheriff—would be a much better way to go.
Jericho helped Rosie up into the passenger seat of his pickup. Since he’d showed up here at Clay’s ranch to pick her up a few minutes ago, he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. She looked so different with the new haircut and new clothes that really fit.
Not bad, mind you. But different. Spectacular.
The bruises around her face had nearly disappeared, and it looked as though the long, lean woman had evolved into a real Texas stunner in her narrow dark jeans and a tight-fitting denim jacket. She seemed to belong at one of those big outdoor Texas-style charity events, held in Dallas or Houston, rather than in small-town Esperanza, Texas. She wasn’t the Rosie he had been getting to know over the last few days.
But then, who was she?
“Where are we going first, Jericho?”
To find out who you really are so I can know who I’m falling in love with. “To Stubbins Barbeque. It’s about sixty miles up the road. Ever heard of it?”
She put her thumbnail to her lips, lost in thought.
“For a moment…I thought…” She shook her head. “No, it doesn’t sound familiar. But then nothing does. Why are we going there?”
“Someone said they thought they saw you at the place almost a week ago. I want to ask around now that your hair is lighter and see if anyone recognizes you. Okay?”
She squirmed a little in her seat. But when she turned to answer, her eyes were bright and she had a big, warm smile on her lips. “Great. Wouldn’t it be terrific if we find someone who knows me?”
Past the words—Past the smile—
There was a sense of misery about her. When he looked deeper, he noticed a tiny lick of fear hiding in those brilliant blue eyes. If she was miserable because their time together might be drawing to an end, that was okay. He felt much the same way.
But the fear—now, that bothered him. He intended to protect her from those goons or any others sent in their place. Didn’t she know that? What else was there for her to be afraid about?
Confused, but determined to stand beside her despite whatever they might uncover, Jericho headed his truck up the ramp to the interstate and drove on toward the answers.
As they turned off I-35 at the exit for Stubbins restaurant, Rosie’s nerves tensed and strained. Nothing looked even vaguely familiar. Still, the closer they drove down the frontage road, the more jittery she became.
“Any sparks of recall?” Jericho asked as he turned onto the gigantic blacktop parking lot.
The smells of mesquite smoke mixed with her panic and filled the air with doubts.
Yes. “No. Maybe.” She rubbed at the hairs standing up on her arms. “Nothing specific. Just a bad feeling.”
“I’m right here. But don’t do anything that makes you too uncomfortable. Just let me know and we’ll leave.”
Jericho parked behind the big red barn of a building, turned off the pickup and rounded the truck to help her down. “Ready?”
Rosie felt as if she were being marched to the guillotine. “I guess so. What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to find out if anyone remembers seeing you on the first of the month. That’s when the driver claims he picked up a blonde.”
“But…” The sign beside the entryway said the hours were noon to midnight. All the deputy had managed to get was a date. How many people had come and gone on that day?
Jericho took her hand and strode up to the cashier’s booth. The woman behind the counter was bleached blond, skinny as a rail and watched them with sharp, hawklike eyes.
She coughed and cleared her throat before picking up a couple of paper placemats and raising her painted-on eyebrows. “Just the two of you?” she asked with what sounded like a smoker’s rasp.
Jericho shook his head. “I’m Sheriff Yates from Campo County. We’re investigating a shooting, and I’d like to speak to anyone who was working here on the first of this month.”
The cashier looked a little taken aback, but she glared at his badge and the gun strapped in its holster at his side before she said, “A shooting here, Sheriff?”
“Was there a shooting here on that date?”
“We’ve had our share of knife fights and an occasional gunshot,” she said by way of an answer. “But not last week. I worked that day—the lunch shift.”
“I would imagine I need to talk to someone working later in the day. Could you tell us who worked the dinner shift?”
Rosie quietly tried to stem her unease. She shifted from one foot to the other and folded her arms under her breasts.
“Let me check.” The cashier pulled a plastic-covered chart out from under the counter and studied it for a moment. “There’s two waiters and a busboy who were here that night and who’ll also be on tonight. Actually, they might be already in back getting set to start their shift. If they’re here, I’ll send them on out.
“Besides them,” she added. “I’ll have to check with the manager to see if I can give you a list of the others who worked that night.”
The cashier asked them to wait and they stood in the small lobby, idly staring at framed pictures of prize bulls that sported blue ribbons and snorted at the camera. Rosie found it hard to think. She couldn’t even manage to get a word to form.
A young man with dark hair and a big apron came out of the open half of the kitchen and walked up to them. The kid looked scared to death of Jericho, but he stood his ground and answered questions.
After one look at Rosie, though, he shook his head. “So sorry,” the kid mumbled with a heavy Spanish accent before he went back to work.
Another young man, this one with his light brown hair tied back in a thong at the nape of his neck and wearing jeans, a checked shirt and a red vest that obviously was part of his uniform, stepped out of another back room. He immediately seemed to recognize her.
“Hey,” he said. “You cut your hair. Shame. It was cool all the way down your back like that.”
“You’ve seen me before?”
“Sure. You were in the other night with another woman. Older broad. Maybe your grandma? Don’t you remember me?” He went on as if he didn’t expect an answer. “I remember the two of you paid in cash. Not something we see a lot around here what with truck drivers and business people using credit cards and all.
You two weren’t bad tippers, either…for two single women.”
A picture of an older woman who looked something like Becky French, only she was wearing a business suit, glasses and a worried expression, flashed in and out of Rosie’s mind. She started to sweat. Trying hard, she couldn’t bring back anything more.
Jericho asked the young man another question or two but suddenly Rosie’s ears were ringing. Her legs became spongy and she found herself leaning on the sheriff for support.
He slung his arm around her waist, thanked the waiter and pulled her outside into the sunshine. “What’s wrong with you? Aren’t you feeling well?”
“Something…” One look around the parking lot and a flood of images flashed in her brain like a movie on fast-forward.
Darkness and fear. Someone chasing her across the blacktop. A gunshot. A thud from behind her.
Blinded by fear, she couldn’t breathe. “Ahhh.” The muffled scream came unbidden from Rosie’s mouth but it originated somewhere deep, primal. “Is she hurt? I have to run. Hide.”
Suddenly Jericho had her in his arms, rocking her gently. “You’re okay. What do you remember? Who was hurt?”
She couldn’t stop trembling and found herself shaking her head as though that might clear up the images. “I…I can’t make it come back.” The tears started to flow. “For a second back there, I saw another woman sitting across the table. A friend, I think. But now I can’t…the pictures in my mind won’t come back.”
“What about out here in the parking lot?”
Swiping furiously at her cheeks in frustration, Rosie glanced around the lot. “It’s just bits and pieces. Something that sounded like a gunshot—or maybe a car backfiring. Dark shapes moving through the shadows. Damn. Why can’t I remember?”
Jericho half dragged her over to his truck, opened the door and helped her in. “Stay here. Lock the doors and stay put. I’m going back for a couple more questions then we’ll head out. You’ll be okay?”
