The house was quiet except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. Rick sat in the leather desk chair with his feet propped on the desk. He still hadn’t been able to take in the reality that Allie was Elijah’s granddaughter. Elijah hadn’t trusted him with the information, and the betrayal left some cuts that would take time to heal.
And Allie. Rick should have put two and two together when he saw the resemblance between her and Maria. Had she always planned to come in here and worm her way into Elijah’s graces?
He decided to call Brendan again. His friend might have found some new information. The stakes had just escalated. If someone was coming after Allie and Betsy, he couldn’t wait for the guy to show up.
It was after midnight on the East Coast, but he knew Brendan would be up working anyway. He listened to the ringing with one ear and to the noises outside with the other. Nothing stirred, a good sign.
There was a click on the line, then Brendan’s voice. “Rick, you know how late it is? What if I were all toasty in bed?”
“You never get to bed before two,” Rick said. He was in no mood for small talk. “Anything new about Allie?”
“Oh yeah, I meant to call you. We had a crisis pop up that we’ve been scrambling to fix.”
The old familiar tug of interest waylaid Rick, but he squelched it. “Spill it.”
“The crisis or the information about your woman?”
“She’s not my woman. She’s my . . . wife.”
Brendan whistled. “Talk about a whirlwind courtship.”
If Brendan only knew. Rick could hardly believe it himself. “Look, things are happening here. Elijah is dead, and someone is out to get Allie and Betsy.”
“The FBI is looking at her now, buddy, and not just for kidnapping. They suspect her of being the ringleader of the immigrant smuggling ring.”
The ringleader? Rick pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s a crock, buddy. No way.” He told Brendan about the man who had killed Yolanda Fleming, and the calls Allie had gotten. “Could this guy have planted evidence?”
“Maybe. According to my sources, immigration was tipped off about the ring using the rodeo for a front. And here’s the funny thing. Your woman testified against someone doing this about a year and a half ago. Because of her testimony, he got sent to jail. Then here we find she was involved all along. I gotta say, I wonder if they were lovers or something. Maybe he dumped her and she turned him in.”
“She’s not the type,” Rick said. He hoped that was true, but what did he really know of her? “How’d they become suspicious of Allie now?”
“Someone faxed pictures of a bunch of Mexicans climbing out of the back of a pickup. The license plates were Allie’s. Does she have an old Ford truck—green?”
“Yeah. Could the pictures be doctored? Don’t you think this sounds suspicious, Brendan? Maybe it’s revenge for sending the kingpin to jail.”
“I thought that too. But the guy who went to prison—Jimmy Hernandez—is dead. He got caught up in a prison riot about a year ago and was stabbed.”
“So it couldn’t be him. Anything else?”
“The other thing they have on her is that bank account records show deposits of money in and out of her account. Like a quarter of a million dollars.”
Rick leaned back and rubbed his eyes, his stomach taking a nosedive. He should have known not to trust her. He was such a patsy. “She showed up here penniless.”
“I’m just saying. You check out her purse to see if she really had no money? Women can lie while they’re seducing you, buddy. I gotta say I’m shocked you fell for her line.”
“She’s Jon’s widow.”
“Look, when are you going to let go of that guilt?”
Rick’s jaw clenched down in a painful spasm. “I killed him, Brendan. If I hadn’t been drunk . . . I rushed in when I should have known better, and he came in after me. I think he knew how unlikely it was that he’d walk out again.” Brendan was the only one who knew, and only because he’d been there.
“When was the last time you took a drink?” Brendan’s voice was soft.
“Two years.” Rick clipped his words. What difference did it make? All the sobriety in the world couldn’t restore Jon to life.
“So live your life in the present. It’s easier that way.”
Rick knew better than to try to argue with Brendan. “Thanks for the help. You’d better get to bed.”
“I’ve got hours of paperwork ahead of me yet.”
Rick closed his phone. The most damning evidence would be money in her account. How did he check that out? If she hadn’t just been through such a trauma, he’d march upstairs and drag her from her bed to question her.
Had he been completely duped?
A sound caught his ear, and he stood to look out the window. A pinprick of light danced and bobbed through the trees. Someone was out there. As far as he knew, everyone who belonged on the ranch was tucked inside.
Rick rushed to the door, grabbing a flashlight on his way. Jem met him on the porch and whined. “Quiet, boy,” he whispered. “Come with me.” He went across the yard and stepped into the coolness of the trees.
A twig snapped somewhere to his right, and he followed the faint noise. Creeping through the dark, he didn’t dare flip on the light. That would only alert whoever it was to being spotted. He knew this ranch like the back of his hand, though, and didn’t really need the light.
He skirted a big boulder and looked around to see a line of dark shapes moving low and fast toward the top of the hill. Now was the time to flip on his light. He aimed the flashlight at the nearest figure and pressed the soft button. The beam of light zeroed in on the face of a Hispanic man. He shouted in Spanish, and the rest of the people turned to run. He saw three men and two women carrying children. They streamed up the hill and disappeared.
Illegal immigrants, he was sure of it. And the first he’d seen since coming to work here. He didn’t want to believe Allie had anything to do with this, but it sure fit.
It was too late and too dark to catch those poor souls tonight. He’d put in a call to the border patrol, but that was the best he could do.
And tomorrow he and Allie would have a talk.
Allie’s eyes were blurry, and her head ached. She stood on the first rung of the corral fence and watched Emilio direct the teenagers on how to groom the horses. A dust storm was supposed to hit late today, but right now only a light breeze lifted her hair away from her face and filled her nose with the good fragrances of horse and hay.
Rick had been acting weird all morning, and she was tired of dancing around his strange glances. What was bothering him? At first she thought he’d been wondering how she was reacting to the news of Yolanda’s death, but it wasn’t that. There was no sympathy in his eyes, only speculation, and maybe even a pointed suspicion.
She’d been careful not to be alone with him. Finding out what was biting him was less urgent than avoiding any discussion of a real marriage. Surely he couldn’t think she was keeping anything from him. Everything was out in the open now.
Emilio approached the fence, pushed his hat back off his forehead, then leaned against a post. “The kids are doing a pretty good job,” he said. “I’m amazed at how well they’ve taken to ranch life.”
Allie nodded. “Even Latoya is acting like a normal kid. She hasn’t even been wearing makeup, let alone unbuttoning her blouse to the navel.”
Emilio’s eyes sobered. “She had a pretty rough go of it. Her mother sold her to the first man when she was ten.”
Allie put her hand over her mouth. “I had no idea. That poor kid.” Her gaze traveled to the other girl. “What about Fern?”
“Her parents and younger brother were killed in a boating accident in the Gulf. She’s been in foster care for three years. She and her mother were really close, and the trauma of her whole family being wiped out about destroyed her.” He gestured to the horses and kids. “She’s really taken to that colt. I’ve seen a few smiles.”
Fern and Allie shared the same heartache. If Allie had been that young, maybe she’d be as downtrodden as the girl. Allie vowed to do whatever she could to help the teenager regain goals and focus.
Allie was sure the boys’ stories were equally horrific, but she couldn’t face hearing them right now. Not with her own life weighing her down. “How’d you get into working with these kids?” she asked. “Have you done it long?”
His dark eyes flickered, then danced away, but not before she saw a shutter come down. “Just happened to fall into it,” he said. “I’m big enough to scare some sense into them. No big story.” He nodded toward the Rio Grande. “I thought I saw some guys on top of the hill. You ever get illegal aliens coming across?”
“Not while I’ve been here. I imagine it could be a problem though. I haven’t even seen any border patrol around. Immigrants from Mexico could get on a boat and float down the river until they found a good landing spot.”
“There aren’t that many good places to land. A lot of the way is blocked by sheer cliffs that are impossible to climb. The patrol probably chooses to focus on the easiest spots.”
His tone was full of assurance, and she gave him a curious stare. “You seem to know a lot about it.”
Taking a tin from his pocket, he took out a pinch of snuff and stuffed it in his cheek. “Makes sense.”
He must not want to talk about his past at all. Maybe it was too painful. The sun glared down from the sky, and she adjusted her cowboy hat to shade her eyes. “Betsy loves that new horse. We haven’t named her. I keep hoping she’ll start talking and name the mare herself.”
“Don’t give up on that idea. She just might. I saw her come out first thing this morning to feed her. She’s hardly left the mare’s side.”
Allie nodded, her gaze on her daughter. Betsy was blooming here. Even though she still wasn’t talking, she was smiling more as she ran and played in the barnyard. The animals flocked around her, from the kittens to Jem and the horses. Even the cattle watched her when she climbed up to sit on the fence.
A shadow blocked the sun from her eyes, and she squinted up into Rick’s face.
“I thought we might run to town and file those adoption papers,” he said.
She straightened. “Let me get Betsy.” Without waiting for his answer, she climbed the fence and went to where her daughter stood currying the mangy mare. Fern was helping.
Poor thing. The mare’s cuts were starting to heal, but all the bones still stuck out under the rough coat. “Betsy, let’s go to town for a while.”
Betsy thrust out her lower lip, and she fingered the buttons on her blue blouse.
“I’ll watch her,Mrs. Bailey.” Fern’s voice was almost inaudible, and she ducked her head without looking Allie in the eye. “I like Betsy. She’s the age of my little brother . . .”
“I’d rather she come with me.” Panic dried into a bad taste in her mouth. Someone had killed Yolanda. That same someone might find them here.
Betsy tugged on her mother’s arm and shook her head, tears filling her eyes. She pointed to the horse and then to Fern.
Allie was such a sucker for Betsy’s entreaties. Rick assured her they were safe here. How could anyone find them clear out here? She’d left no trail. Still, someone had killed Elijah, even though the sheriff seemed to think it was an accident. “She’d better come with me. Why don’t you come too, Fern?”
The girl’s face lit with pleasure. “To town with you?”
“Sure. We’ll stop and get an ice cream soda at the drugstore. We won’t be gone long.”
Fern took Betsy’s hand, and the girls followed Allie. Sorrow welled in her throat, choking her. If only she’d let Yolanda come with her.
She rejoined Rick and Emilio. “Betsy wants to stay with Fern, but I don’t think it’s safe to leave her. I thought she could come with us.”
“Sure,” Emilio said. “Fern is good with kids.”
His gaze toward Allie was intense and probing. Surely he wasn’t interested in her,was he? She was a married woman now. Reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, she made sure to turn toward him so he would see her new ring.
Rick still hadn’t spoken. He headed toward the truck, and Allie followed with the girls. At the cab’s door, she stopped and spoke too softly for the girls to hear. “Marriage must not agree with you. You’re a bear this morning.” She flashed her most winning smile, hoping to coax him out of whatever had brought this on.
He gave her a cold glare. “Let’s not talk about it now. I want to get this adoption paperwork done first. We can sign the papers for the ranch, too.”
Allie tried to think of anything she’d done to warrant this gruff treatment, but came up blank. He’d been so solicitous and caring last night when he heard the news about Yolanda. Let him stew. She’d done nothing to incur his wrath. And even if she had, what right did he have to act like an enraged rattlesnake?
She let the girls sit between them. They made the trip to town in a silence that seemed to thicken with every passing mile. Allie tried to distract herself with praying for Yolanda’s family, but she found it hard to focus when every time she glanced Rick’s way he was still glowering.
It was going to be a long year.
The attorney’s secretary had the papers ready for them to sign. Allie’s signature looked a little shaky, but Rick scrawled his name in bold, confident strokes. His determination to help her daughter made her more willing to overlook his bad mood.
The wind had picked up by the time they stepped back out into the sunshine. A few tumbleweeds lay nestled against the truck tires, and tiny bits of sand stung Allie’s cheeks as the two of them hurried to the shelter of the drugstore. Rick had her by the arm to steady her. He opened the door, then shut it behind her.
The aroma of cheeseburgers and French fries, of sock hops and high school dates, washed over her. Black-and-white tiles on the floor and red vinyl booths made the place look like a set from the movie Grease. Rick led the way to the booth at the back.
“A jukebox,” Fern breathed in a reverent tone.
“Here. Pick out some music.” Rick dug a handful of coins from his pocket and dropped them into her cupped palms.
Fern and Betsy went to pick out the music. Allie folded her hands together to keep them from shaking. “Okay, let’s have it. I’m tired of tiptoeing around your mood. If you’ve got a complaint, spill it.”
Rick’s icy and appraising eyes belonged to a stranger. Where was the warmth that he showed last night? For a few moments she thought he might refuse to speak.
Then he leaned against the seat. “I talked to my friend yesterday, the one who’s in intelligence.”
“So? I have nothing to hide.”
“He had more details about your part in the moving of illegal aliens.”
“I didn’t have any part in that other than testifying.”
“Then where did you get all the money?”
“What money?” Allie’s gaze went to her bag containing exactly ten dollars and fifteen cents.
“A quarter of a million dollars has moved through your account in the last six months.”
Allie gasped and put her hand over her mouth. “That’s impossible.” But was it? She never looked at her bank statements. They were too hard to make out. The only way she knew what she had in the bank at any given time was to run through the ATM and check her balance.
“I see you’re suddenly remembering,” Rick said. “Your face says it all.”
“No, you don’t understand,” she protested. “I never know what’s in my account. I—I can’t read the statements.”
He frowned then. “What are you talking about?”
She looked away from his intense gaze. “I have Scotopic Sensitivity Syndrome. Some people call it Irlen Syndrome. It’s really hard for me to read things on white paper. The letters jump and move around. So I don’t read my statement.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
From his tone, she guessed he thought she was lying. “Look it up,” she snapped. “That’s why I have to make sure I wear sunglasses in the glare, or a hat. My eyes can’t handle glare.”
The ice in his eyes thawed slightly. “I still find it hard to believe you don’t know what’s in your account.”
She kept her gaze focused on her hands, tightly clenched in her lap. “Jon always handled the banking. Since his death, everything like that has been . . . difficult.”
“Why didn’t you ask Yolanda for help?”
She bristled at his persistent skepticism. “I wanted to stand on my own two feet. If Yo knew how tight things were, she’d insist on helping me. I couldn’t accept that.”
“Can you explain how so much money could be in your account? Did anyone else have access to it?”
She grabbed her purse and upended it.A bottle of nail polish rolled out, a comb, a lipstick clattered to the table, then her wallet plopped on the surface. Picking it up, she threw it at him. “Take a look. Ten dollars and some change.”
He recoiled, but she dug in her purse again and brought out her checkbook. “Here, you want to see how incompetent I am? Make sure I’m a loser?” Her voice rose, and she saw the girls look toward her, so she gathered her self-control. “Here, take a look.”
She knew what he would see. Chicken scratches scrawling their way across the page, strikeouts, messy entries that made no sense. Falling silent, sadness replaced the anger. “I’m not a criminal, Rick.”
His hand closed around the checkbook. “I’m sorry, Allie. I believe you. If someone’s messing with your account,we need to find out who.”
Her gaze came up at the softening of his voice. Maybe he recognized the ring of truth. “I’ve never given anyone the number. Unless it’s the guy who killed Yo and my family. Maybe he’s trying to make me look guilty of something. That smuggling thing, maybe.”
“He’s doing a pretty good job of it.” Rick laid the checkbook next to her other things. “The FBI will track you down in short order.”
“I didn’t leave a trail,” she said. “No credit cards, nothing.”
“Did you know you were under suspicion when you left El Paso?”
“I had no idea.” She began to return the items to her purse.
“What about this Jimmy Hernandez that you testified against? How did that happen?”
Allie sighed. It was an old story, and she was sick of it. Everyone seemed to think it had some bearing on her present circumstances, and she knew it didn’t. “He worked with me. He was in charge of getting stock handlers. I noticed he seemed to have a lot of men milling around who couldn’t speak English, but I didn’t think much about it at first. It’s not unusual, you know? I was on my way to the grocery store one night and noticed him pull off onto a deserted road in front of me. He had a load of workers in his truck. It was long after hours, so I decided to circle back and see what he was doing. I parked my pickup along the road and walked back. The workers were all transferring to a van. The next day I started paying attention and noticed none of the workers Jimmy used were the same day to day. I got suspicious and told the police. A couple of months later he was arrested, and I was called to testify when the trial came up.”
Rick’s scowl turned thoughtful. “So he could be behind it if you sent him to prison.”
“They had a lot more on him than my testimony.”
“But you turned him in.”
She held out her hands, palms up. “They were already suspicious.” “He might not know that.”
This was getting them nowhere. Allie shook her head. “Look, he died in prison during a riot. It’s not him.”
“If you had nothing to do with any illegal alien traffic, then someone is out to get you.”
Allie wanted to slap her forehead. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. You’re not listening.”
“I’m listening now,” he said. “Who hates you?”
Allie sighed. “Everyone asks that, and I just don’t know.” She could see he didn’t believe she didn’t know who was after her. But she could feel a noose tightening around her neck.