by Linda Conrad
She nodded her head. But without her memories, she wasn’t sure she would ever really be okay again.
Jericho spent the next half hour talking to the manager of the restaurant and then driving himself and Rosie over to the local county sheriff’s office. He’d only met the newly elected sheriff of this county, Richard Benway, once. But had heard Benway was a good man.
Rosie’s color had come back by the time they finished at the sheriff’s office. It had been decided that Benway would open a full investigation as to what exactly had taken place in the restaurant’s parking lot on the night of July first.
Jericho had loads of unanswered questions. The truck driver who picked up Rosie hadn’t seen another woman, so what happened to her? Had she been hurt? Had anyone witnessed what took place? And how exactly had Rosie arrived at the restaurant in the first place? Driven? If so, what happened to her car?
Luckily, Sheriff Benway was willing to do the legwork. He had the authority and the extra manpower. But there were no guarantees the investigation would be successful.
Back in the truck, Rosie turned to him and asked, “What’s next? Are we going home?”
It was a shock to his system to hear her calling Esperanza home. But he found he sort of liked it.
“This time of year,” he began easily. “The sun doesn’t set until nearly 9:00 p.m. I thought we could drive on to the border. Check out the town where the truck driver says he let you out.
“You willing to give it a try?” he added thoughtfully. “Are you too tired?”
“I’m okay. If there’s any chance of finding out who I am by going, then I’m there.”
Jericho nodded and pushed down on the accelerator. This time they would play it smarter and start at the county sheriff’s office.
But, unfortunately, he knew this county’s sheriff. Knew him only too well.
There’d been rumors for years about how Sheriff Jesus Montalvo had gotten rich by turning his back to the forty-mile stretch of border that his county shared with Mexico. Like Jericho, Montalvo’s county had no big cities and a small tax base. But unlike Jericho, Sheriff Montalvo of San Javier County had managed to accumulate an enormous amount of land and a few heavy bank accounts. The only difference between counties was a wild forty miles of Rio Grande riverfront.
Still, Montalvo would help. He had a large staff of deputies and knew where all the bodies and secrets were buried in his territory.
By the time they arrived in Rio View it was suppertime. Rosie didn’t think she was hungry until her stomach started rumbling and she remembered that she hadn’t eaten anything today. Jericho called ahead and Sheriff Montalvo agreed to meet them at a truck-stop restaurant near where the truck driver had claimed he’d let Rosie off late on the night of the first.
As they entered the crowded diner, that same uneasy feeling from before began to niggle around the edges of Rosie’s mind. She forced it aside, determined this time to either ignore the images and feelings or capture them whole and place them properly in her memory.
A waitress pointed out the booth where Sheriff Montalvo was waiting. They worked their way through the loaded tables and past row upon row of full booths made with brown plastic seats and linoleum-covered tables. Everywhere Rosie looked were men. Long-haul truck drivers. Cowboys and ranchers. Rugged-looking men who seemed too busy eating to pay much attention.
Until…she walked by. Then every set of eyes studied her carefully. It gave her the creeps.
She’d thought she would be glad to slip into the booth across from Sheriff Montalvo and get away from the stares. But when she came near enough to the table to get a good look, there was something about him that seemed darkly familiar.
Not knock-you-down familiar. But close.
The man sat slouched in the far corner of the booth, but the power of his position glowed around him. He wasn’t wearing a hat and his brown hair was combed in a perfect style. His white shirt looked starched and crisp under his badge.
A couple of waitresses stood beside the booth, like two virginal handmaidens. Rosie could just tell that everyone in the place, probably everyone in the county, would treat this sheriff with deference.
She grew uneasy again. Did she know this man? And if so, would he be able to tell her who she was?
Easing her way into the booth in front of Jericho, Rosie suddenly surprised herself by wishing that Sheriff Montalvo would not be able to tell her a blessed thing.
Chapter 11
“I s it very far from here?” Rosie stared out the windshield into the growing silver-gray dusk.
Jericho watched her body tensing with every mile they drove and his gut twisted from wanting to do something for her. Montalvo hadn’t turned out to be of much help. The San Javier County sheriff told them he hadn’t gotten any reports of trouble or missing women. But something about Montalvo’s body language had been saying that he at least knew of Rosie, though he swore he’d never laid eyes on her before.
As they’d waited for their supper, Montalvo prompted Jericho and Rosie to ask around the restaurant to see if anyone recognized her. No one did. But Jericho’s instincts had screamed at him through the whole search. The diner crowd had looked at her with hints of recognition in their eyes, yet not one would even meet his gaze with their own as he’d been asking questions. Liars.
After supper, Montalvo had also encouraged him to check with a motel on the outskirts of town that might match Rosie’s description of the one she’d seen on the day she had lost her memory. Montalvo even called ahead to get them an appointment with the manager/owner.
As they pulled up in front, Jericho decided Rosie’s original description fit the place perfectly. A cheap motel on the poorer side of a small border town. Just as she’d described it.
The deepening purple shadows of nightfall obscured his view of Rosie’s face as they walked to the motel office. But he could feel the nervous energy radiating from her.
At the office door, he stood still for a moment, holding on to the handle as the fluorescent light from inside shone out through the glass. “Something’s coming back to you, isn’t it?”
Her eyes were wide and bright and her face flushed. “This is the place,” she whispered. “From that morning when those two goons grabbed me. I remember the neighborhood.”
“Yeah. I figured it was. Anything else coming back?”
She shook her head and bit her lip.
“Okay, let’s see what we can find out from the owner.” He let her go in ahead of him so he could watch the reaction of the man behind the desk.
The owner turned out to be a portly guy in his fifties, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt turned gray from washing. The bald spot on the man’s head was almost covered over by several thin ash-brown strands of hair. But not quite. From Jericho’s viewpoint, towering over the man’s five-foot-eight frame, the guy would’ve been a lot better off leaving the bare patch alone.
As they stepped into the room, the owner never blinked an eyelash or showed any recognition of Rosie. But then once they came closer, Jericho caught a glimpse of the man’s pupils widening involuntarily at the sight of her—right before he quickly glanced away. The man knew her all right. Even if he wasn’t going to admit it.
They introduced themselves. The motel owner seemed put out at having to answer questions. Too bad.
“So, you’re sure you don’t recognize this woman?” Jericho asked after the man had just said he didn’t. “Take another look.”
“Once is plenty, bud. The answer is no. Back off.”
Jericho lost it in that instant. He grabbed the owner by the front of his shirt and lifted him off his feet and halfway over the counter.
“It’s Sheriff Yates to you, bud. And Sheriff Montalvo said you would cooperate. Let’s have some of that cooperation right now.
“This woman was here in your motel no more than four days ago. Take a better look.”
“Jericho…” Rosie put her hand on his shirtsleeve and her expression said she didn�
��t want this much trouble.
Jericho lowered the owner back to his feet but refused to open his fist. In fact, he still held the man’s shirtfront in a death grip.
“Oh…oh, yeah,” the owner stuttered as he took another look at Rosie. “Ya see, I didn’t recognize you. You’ve changed. You’re the broad that had the long, blond hair.
“You left one hell of a mess in the bathroom of one of the units when you dashed outta here, you know? There was hair and blackish-red dye everywhere. Ruined a couple of our good towels, I can tell you that.”
Jericho let him go and then threw a couple of bucks from his pocket onto the counter. “That should take care of any damages.
“Was she registered here?” he added, putting a demanding tone in his words. “Under what name?”
The guy shrugged. “I don’t remember. Or, maybe I just wasn’t on duty when she came in.”
“You want to take a look at the register anyway?” Jericho’s patience with this character was running thin.
After another ten minutes of avoiding giving any actual answers, the owner shrugged again and said, “Look, we’re not in the business of asking questions about our guests. This place isn’t located on any main highway. The people that come here do it for their privacy.”
“And I suppose your guests all pay in cash?” Jericho was ready to pound this sucker into the ground if he hedged one more time.
“Sure. In advance. We don’t take credit cards and only take checks from the people that live around here.”
“Well…” Frustration was making Jericho steamy. “How did she arrive then? Not on foot, surely.”
The manager narrowed his eyes at Jericho. “None of my business. There’s a bus stop about a block down. Maybe that way. How should I know? Ask her.”
Jericho’s hands fisted once again, but just then Rosie touched his shoulder. “This isn’t doing any good,” she told him. “I’m not getting any flashes of my past here. Let’s just go.”
“Hey,” the manager said as he tilted his head to give her another look. “What’re all the questions for? Don’t you remember?”
The way he had said it told Jericho the man already knew very well that Rosie couldn’t remember her past. And probably knew why not. Someone had already told him. Or warned him. Sheriff Montalvo? The sheriff was the only one who could’ve let the owner know what was going on.
If that was the case, then Rosie was right. They weren’t going to get anything else out of this guy. In fact, all of a sudden it seemed like he’d had been deliberately hedging his answers in order to keep them here longer. If the sheriff were somehow involved, then whatever was going on in Rio View and with Rosie went far beyond dangerous. It would have to involve something bigger and more secretive than just a woman who’d been kidnapped.
Jericho’s gut was telling him he needed to get Rosie out of San Javier County. Fast.
“Let’s go.” He took her by the arm and rushed them both outside and into his truck.
Buckling up, Jericho mentally ticked off the various routes he could take that would get them back to Esperanza the quickest. Menacing darkness began closing in around the pickup as he pulled out of the motel parking lot and kept an eye on what was going on in the rearview mirror.
Rosie cast a sideways glance at Jericho’s profile in the glow of the dashboard lights. His jaw was set and a slight tick pulsed under his right eye. The man must still be furious.
She had never seen him as mad as he’d been while he questioned the motel owner. He’d controlled it in the office as long as she stood by his side, but the whole time she’d been afraid that the thin string binding up his anger would snap at any moment.
But why should he still be mad? He had no reason to be mad at her. She couldn’t help it if her memories were lost. Yet he seemed furious.
With no clue as to what he was thinking, she looked out the pickup’s window as the few remaining buildings on the outskirts of Rio View flew past. Rosie noted that they’d begun picking up speed. When the city-limits sign sped by and nothing but black, moonless night took the place of outdoor floodlights and lighted billboard signs, she all of a sudden realized they were zipping down the highway way too fast. Good thing the roads seemed deserted at this hour.
She cast a quick look over to the speedometer and was stunned to see the gage touching the ninety mark. Asphalt rushed under the truck as she tightened her seat belt. She was not ready to die tonight just because Jericho was a little miffed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him, and was embarrassed by the squeak in her voice. “Are you mad at me?”
“No.”
Well, at least he’d answered. But that wasn’t enough of an explanation for her. “Then what’s up with you?”
It was then that she finally noticed him checking the rearview mirror every few seconds. “Someone is following us.” She’d answered her own question.
He shot her a sideways glance then went back to concentrating on the road ahead. “Not yet.”
“Yet? How do you know for sure that…”
“Crap.” Jericho must’ve stepped down harder on the gas pedal just then because the truck gave a roar, bucked and unbelievably the speedometer needle eased up past one hundred. “There they are.”
Rosie twisted her neck so she could look out the rear window. About a half a mile back a set of headlights could be seen in the distance heading in their same direction.
“What makes you think that car is following us?”
“Gut feeling. That guy in the motel kept us there for far too long. He set us up.”
“Well, what do they want?”
Jericho spared her one, quick glare. “Guess.”
“Me? Oh, God.” Her voice almost left her in the dust as the truck flew down the highway into the dark. “What are we going to do?” she rasped out.
“We’re going to lose them.”
But even through those determined words, Rosie could hear the other vehicle’s engine roaring up right behind them. She turned again and saw a huge set of headlights bearing down on them. They were close. Too close. How had they caught up so fast?
“All we need is another mile…” Jericho’s words were interrupted by a loud thump and a terrific jerk.
“They’re ramming us,” Rosie screamed.
Were they crazy? Ramming people while doing a hundred miles an hour could get them all killed.
While Jericho struggled with the wheel, downshifted then hit the gas again, Rosie turned back to see the other vehicle losing ground. Apparently they’d had to fight the effects of the bump themselves.
“There it is.” Jericho tapped the brake, cranked the wheel in a ninety-degree angle and downshifted into second. The engine whined and the tires squealed, but the truck responded in a perfectly executed wheelie, hitting the hidden side road back on all fours.
Rosie thought her lungs would explode. The truck barreled down a narrow paved road with barbed-wire fence whizzing by on both sides. She gasped for breath, closed her eyes and hung on.
“Do you know where you’re going?” Blinking open her eyes, she screeched past the engine’s whine. This might turn out to be a dead end. Then what would they do?
Jericho was keeping one eye on the rearview mirror as he answered, “My dad and I used to hunt the leases in this section. If nothing’s changed since then, I know every inch. There’s a couple of places to lose them up ahead.”
If nothing’s changed? That might be a big if when their lives depended on it. Rosie shivered and prayed for all she was worth.
Jericho drove on through the darkened fields, forced to continue using his headlights and pushing his truck as much as he dared. But they hadn’t gone far enough to be safe when he picked up the other guy’s headlights once again in his rearview mirror.
Finally spotting what he’d been waiting for, he slowed just enough to make the turn onto a caliche farm-to-market road. The tires clanged over a cattle guard and spun briefly before they caught again. Stepping
down on the gas after the truck righted, he noted that the fencing was gone from the left side of the roadway. Open range. Dangerous driving in the dark.
Figuring they had about five miles to go before they made cover in the woods just past Gage’s Arroyo crossing, he hoped to hell they made it that far.
Jericho threw a fast glance toward Rosie and vowed they would make it, at least that far—and beyond. The other choice was unthinkable. Once they hit the woods he would find some place to hide the truck, for long enough to call for help. But that was presuming his cell would work out here. He counted on those woods being located in the next county over. A county with a sheriff he could depend on to come to their aide.
Taking his eyes off the road for a millisecond, he checked on the woman sitting next to him. Her body was stiff. Her breath coming in short staccato bursts, and her fists bunched and ready to strike. He approved. She was scared but ready to fight.
That was his girl. Beautiful as always, but tough when she needed to be. Good for her.
The road got rougher, and he peered out as far as his headlight beams would reach. Pockmarks, potholes and deep ruts kept his speed down to a roar as the truck behind them began gaining ground. Holding his breath and gritting his teeth against the violent shaking from his truck, Jericho hit the gas again. The next time he looked into the rearview mirror, he’d gained a little ground.
Son of a gun, that was one gigantic mother of a truck. Taller, wider and faster than Jericho’s, the thing loomed out of the darkness like a huge beast with blazing eyes. Resembling a fantasy dragon in this darkness, from a distance it even appeared to be snorting smoke out its sides as dust and caliche spewed from under the tires.
He wasn’t sure if that description was bad news or good. Bad news because he couldn’t outrun them. Good news because he should be able to outmaneuver them on the narrow, slippery back roads.
Wondering if the driver was more, or less, familiar with this range road than he was, Jericho fought the wheel as he tried to bring their surroundings into better focus. Where were they now? How far from the bridge?
