Thursday, August 15, 8:00 A.M.
After hurrying outside, Faith saw that Luke had already arrived. They were headed to Amarillo today, in the hopes of locating and interviewing Jeremy Jacobs, a potential witness in the Saint case. When Luke shot her a cocky grin, she dropped her briefcase. The tripod that’d been tucked under her arm followed, and as she bent to gather the consent forms that had flown out of the case, her purse slipped off her shoulder, landing in her sprinkler-dampened front lawn.
Luke raised one amused eyebrow, crossed his arms, and leaned back against the hood of the coolest car Faith had ever seen, his pecs rippling beneath a white cotton T-shirt that barely contained his biceps. His Wranglers were cowboy tight and buckled with an ornate silver medallion that read PRCA NATIONAL FINALS 2010 SADDLE BRONC RIDING.
Not that she’d been staring.
He hooked his thumbs in his pockets and crossed his tan ostrich skin boots at the ankles. “What?” He drawled the word into two syllables.
Her mouth snapped shut. Like he didn’t know he could give a girl a heart attack showing up looking like he’d just climbed off a bucking bronco ready to claim the award for bluest-eyed cowboy.
“Nothing.” She chased down the rest of her forms, locked everything up neat and tidy in her leather briefcase, and stuck her hands on her hips. “Just didn’t know you were a rodeo champion is all.” She cleared her throat. “Or that you’d be picking me up in that old thing.”
“Now I know you’re teasing, darlin’, because no woman in her right mind can resist a sweet little ride like this.” He winked. “My 1977 Delft blue Triumph Spitfire and I are at your service. I’m dressed in my everyday ranch gear because Amarillo’s cowboy country, and I figure I’ll get more cooperation from the witness like this than I would suited up.”
That’s how he dressed every day on the ranch. She swallowed hard and tried not to imagine what his butt looked like mounting a quarter horse. “Makes sense. I-I just assumed we’d be taking the limo.”
“Nice stammer.” He grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. “Sorry to disappoint you, but you made it clear this trip would be strictly business, and I’m afraid I just can’t trust myself with you in a limo.” He swept his arm across the tiny two-seater convertible. “This’ll be safer . . . for you.”
Truthfully, she’d been expecting a campaign to mix pleasure with business, but now she saw he wasn’t going to put up any argument. She heaved a sigh, and her chest deflated.
“If you’ve changed your mind, I can always call my driver. We can take the limo and fool around on the way.” His it’d-be-my-pleasure-ma’am grin set her heart palpitating.
For heaven’s sake.
“No thank you.” She stuck her chin up. “I’m just wondering how we’re going to fit the two of us and my camera equipment in that car.”
He popped the tiny trunk and scratched his head. “Don’t you have a smaller tripod?”
Half an hour later, they were on their way with a smaller tripod, the bare minimum of camera equipment, and one consolidated overnight bag. Top down, headed for Amarillo, with Hank Williams on the stereo. The buzz of the engine and the flapping of the wind made chatter difficult, so she just gathered her hair into a ponytail, leaned back, and soaked up the day.
They might not spend the night in Amarillo—that depended on the witness. But they’d agreed to stay over if necessary. Luke kept his hand on hers whenever he wasn’t shifting. The wind and sun felt so good, so pleasantly invigorating, and the hand-holding seemed so innocent, she magnanimously decided not to protest. An hour later, they were still holding hands when it started to drizzle.
Luke pulled over at the first gas station to put up the top and take a comfort break. When he climbed back in the car and gunned the engine, she could tell his mood had shifted. They headed back to the highway, but this time he kept both hands on the wheel. With the top up and the noise down, there was plenty of room for conversation, but none seemed forthcoming.
She let it go about ten minutes, then asked, “Is something wrong?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “You picked up on that, huh?”
“I am a psychiatrist.” She kept her tone playful.
“So I hear.”
More silence. She pulled the band out of her hair and let it fall freely to her shoulders. If he thought she was going to pick up a crowbar and pry whatever the hell was on his mind out of him, he was mistaken. No room in this car for a crowbar. Looking out her window, she hummed tunelessly.
“What the hell?” he said at last. “Are you tone-deaf?”
“Just passing the time.”
“If I tell you what’s on my mind, do you promise not to hum anymore?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether I think you’re being honest or not.”
“I told you already, Clancy. I don’t play games.”
“Seems like you’re playing one right now. You haven’t said a word since we left the gas station.”
“That’s only because I’m not sure you’re ready to hear what I have to say.” He turned his eyes on her, and the intensity of his gaze made her throat tighten.
She might be in over her head, but it was too late to unask the question. “Fire away.” She tried to infuse her voice with confidence.
“Like I said before, I’m not nearly as noble as you make me out. You give me too much credit. I can see it in the way you look at me.”
“Let me get this straight. You’ve been holding my hand for the past hour, but now you’re not talking to me because you think I like you too much.” She turned her eyes back to the road so he wouldn’t see the sting of his words burning up her cheeks. “I’ve already told you I’m not interested in taking whatever this is into relationship territory, so just relax and enjoy the ride.”
“You’re missing the point. I’ve been thinking a lot about you lately . . . about us . . . and holding your hand like that, it hit me. I’m feeling something . . . big. It’s important to me that once you fall in love with me, it’s with the real me. Not some trumped-up dreamboat you’ve got floating around in your fantasy life. That’s all I’m going to say.”
“I don’t fantasize about you.”
“Yes, you do.” His voice came out low and gravelly.
“You’ve obviously got me confused with some buckle bunny, but I’m afraid that cowboy stuff just doesn’t work for me.” Her voice carried a little too much bravado. She knew she was trying too hard to pretend his declaration from a moment ago hadn’t affected her.
He’d said he wanted her to fall in love with him—the real him.
And she was sharp enough to read the subtext. The only time a man wanted a woman to fall in love with him was when he was falling in love with her. But that was impossible. They barely knew one another. She clutched the door handle.
“What, now you wanna jump out of the car? I said you might not be ready for this.”
“Luke, I’m never going to be ready for this. I think you’ve got the wrong idea about me. Maybe I’m the ignoble one, and you’re the one who needs to take off his rose-colored glasses. Ever think of that?”
“Nope. But if you want to air your dirty laundry, fine by me. I like the dirty laundry, those little everyday flaws that make you who you are. To me, that’s the good stuff.”
“You already had your PI check me out, so what’s there to air?”
“My guess it has to do with your sister, Grace.”
He might as well have punched her in the stomach as brought her sister up. But if there was even a slight chance Luke Jericho was actually falling in love with her, he deserved to know the truth. Blinking away the pressure behind her eyes she turned to him. “I’m sure you know from your background check that my sister took her own life. Postpartum depression. She needed me, and I wasn’t there for her.”
“You’re too smart for that Faith. You can’t take the blame for another person’s choices.”
“But I can take the blame for my own choices, and I made some doozies.” She sucked in a big breath and let it out slowly. Folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them. The words she wanted to say stuck in her throat—maybe because she’d never said them aloud. Ever. “I was in love with my sister’s husband. Or at least I thought I was at the time.”
“The detective, Danny Benson? Didn’t see that one coming.”
“Of course you didn’t. He was my sister’s husband. So there you go, now you see I have a legitimate reason to feel guilty, not to mention heartbroken.”
“You still into the guy?”
She shook her head. “No. What I mean is, I’m heartbroken about Grace. I missed out on so much time with her. All the while I was mooning over her husband, wishing I had her life, her family, I was losing the last little bit of time I could’ve had with her. She was my family. She practically raised me, and somehow I let myself get resentful and jealous. I lost sight of how special she was. Now she’s gone, and I can never get that time back. I didn’t lose it. I tossed it away for nothing. Grace needed me, and I wasn’t there, but the truth is I needed her, too.”
“Say that last part again.”
This time she couldn’t keep her voice from cracking. “I needed her, too.”
“Think about that. Your sister had a new baby, a new husband, and she was depressed on top of everything. It seems natural you might’ve felt she’d abandoned you. Maybe you were looking to your brother-in-law for the attention you weren’t getting from your sister.”
“God, no. I mean, yes. But you make it sound like that makes it okay, when it’s not. Grace took care of me after our parents died. She was there for me, then, even though she was little more than a young girl herself. After she married Danny, I was so jealous of Grace I never even noticed that she needed me. I never saw her pain because I was too busy being a selfish brat.”
“You were just a teenager, though. Right?”
“I was as old as my sister was when our parents died. I was old enough to know better. Old enough to do something.”
“Like what?”
She didn’t need Luke to make excuses for her. She’d been blind to Grace’s pain, period. “Like get my sister professional help.”
“Seems like that’d be her husband’s job.”
“Yes, but he didn’t realize . . .” She ran out of steam halfway through that thought. Didn’t want to finish it. “Grace’s death wasn’t Danny’s fault. And now you’re the one missing the point.”
“Okay. So you’re a bad girl. You coveted your sister’s husband. How does that translate into your pushing me away?”
She didn’t have the answer. She only knew she couldn’t let herself get sucked into that situation again. She never wanted to be in that head-over-heels place again. That place where nothing else matters but the man you think you love, because it’s not real . . . and the price is far too high. “I’m fine with sex, Luke. But that’s it for us.”
He pumped the brake and swerved onto the shoulder of the highway, killed the engine, and grabbed her by the shoulders. “That’s just not enough for me, Clancy.” His eyes searched her face. “You and your brother-in-law ever actually fool around?”
“Oh God, no. He’s my sister’s husband, and it was all on my part. Anyway, two years ago, he finally remarried. He’s a newlywed now, and trust me—he doesn’t have a clue how I felt back then—and he never will.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that last part, the not knowing, I mean.”
Luke sounded angry, and she wasn’t sure why. “Sorry you don’t understand. I never should’ve told you to begin with, it’s just that I didn’t want you to think I don’t care for you, or that you’d done something wrong. This is all on me. I simply don’t want to be in a relationship . . . with anyone.”
His voice rose, and his grip on her shoulders tightened. “You wanted Danny, though, so why didn’t you go after him when you had the chance?”
“Are you listening at all? My. Sister’s. Husband.”
“Which brings us full circle.” The edge in his voice smoothed out. “You did nothing wrong. You were a kid who’d lost her parents. You saw your sister moving on with her life, with a new family, and you wanted that for yourself. You never acted on any of your feelings because you would never do anything to hurt your sister. Not intentionally.” Releasing her shoulders, he pushed a lock of hair off her forehead. “Listen to me, Clancy. Lusting in your heart doesn’t make you a bad person. Remember Jimmy Carter?”
“President Jimmy Carter? Of course, but I don’t see—”
“Jimmy Carter admitted in an interview with Playboy magazine that he lusted in his heart after women who were not his wife. He still got elected president, and he even won a Nobel Peace Prize.”
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. There really were no words to express how convoluted she found Luke’s reasoning.
His face was less serious now, his lips rising at the edges. A full-blown grin soon followed, and her own mouth started to twitch. When he cocked his brow and spread his hands in an I-rest-my-case, something inside her altered. From deep within, a rumble of laughter germinated, gathered speed, and eventually erupted from her mouth.
Deep, gut-busting waves of hilarity followed, and she grabbed her knees, gasping for air. “A Nobel Peace Prize. I’m next in line for the good ol’ Nobel Peace Prize.”
She slapped her knees and sat up, throwing her arms in the air. “Shove over, Jimmy Carter, because here comes Faith Clancy.”
She turned to Luke. He pulled her against him, and she pressed her cheek to his chest, loving the feel of his heart beating against her ear. He stroked her hair, and soon the shaking waves of hilarity turned to sobs, dampening his white T-shirt. “I’ve lost her forever, Luke. She’s never coming back.”
“The rest of us are still here, baby. Maybe you could stop beating yourself up long enough not to miss out on that. Please don’t let history repeat itself. I’d hate to see you wake up one day and realize you’d turned away the people who genuinely care about you.” He kissed one eyelid, then the other, then the tip of her nose. His voice was low and rough in her ear, “I need you, Clancy. So please, don’t push me away.”
They’d made it to Amarillo. Luke estimated the odds of getting any useful information out of a witness after four years was close to zero, but that didn’t mean he was going to pass up the opportunity to question one. After all, if you knew exactly where your big break was going to come from, you’d just dial in the location on your GPS and sit back on your haunches and wait. Absent those magic coordinates, the only thing to do was hit the pavement. So here they were in Amarillo, Texas, on Jeremy Jacobs’s front stoop. Projecting confidence, he smiled at Faith and rang the bell.
“I’ll make the introductions,” Faith offered. “A female may seem less intimidating.”
“Nothing wrong with a little intimidation. In my book, it’s okay if this kid knows we mean business.”
Faith gave him a look, “Knock yourself out. I’m only an expert in human behavior, which, as I recall, is why you brought me along. But hey, that’s no reason to let me take the lead in interviewing the witness.”
“I brought you along ’cause you’ve got great legs—that and you’ve got a few other skills.”
“Like my ability to enhance memory via hypnosis?”
“Exactly. But I never said anything about your taking the lead. I fully intend to impress upon this witness . . .”
At the sound of footsteps inside the home, he shut his mouth and straightened his shoulders, used the tail of his T-shirt to buff his championship buckle. He’d dressed to impress. These people ought to know who they were dealing with. A slender woman, midforties answered the door. Brittle blond hair tinged with orange framed her round face. She raised her eyebrows expectantly. “Hullo.”
“Mrs. Jacobs, I presume?”
Her eyes darted appreciatively to Luke’s waist, and her mouth tipped into a welcoming smile. “How can I help y’all?”
He’d been right to wear the buckle. Like his mother always said, no use hiding your light under a bushel.
He stuck out his hand. “Luke Jericho. And that’s Dr. Faith Clancy. I was wondering if we might have a word with your son if he’s home.”
Her smile faded as quickly as it had appeared, but at least she didn’t shut the door in their faces. “What about?”
“I understand your son Jeremy was a friend of Kenny Stoddard.”
Closing the door halfway, she stepped back. “Sorry. Jeremy’s not home.”
“Sure I am. What’s up?” A lanky young man appeared behind her just before she slammed the door.
Beside him, Faith started to hum. He gave her the stink eye, then knocked on the door, first gently, then harder.
No dice.
“Jeremy.” He stopped knocking and cupped his hands around his mouth to make a megaphone. “I need to talk to you about your friend Kenny.”
The muffled sound of raised voices came through the door. Luke checked his watch. Four minutes later, Faith was still humming, and the voices still argued behind the door. Luke raised his hand to knock again.
Grabbing his wrist, Faith shook her head at him. “Take it easy. He obviously wants to talk to us. We just need to give him time. Let him convince his mother.”
Luke dragged a palm over his face, put his hands on his hip. Made a couple of 360s. Three minutes later, the door cracked open. Mrs. Jacobs tried to body block her son, who, at nineteen, was a half foot taller than her. His head wagged over her shoulder, revealing intelligent brown eyes and a guarded expression. He poked his mother’s arm.
“What exactly is this about, please?” Mrs. Jacobs voice held a faint tremor. “Jeremy talked to the police four years ago. Told the detectives everything he knows. I shouldn’t have let it happen, but I didn’t know better at the time. After what they put him through, you can bet I won’t make that mistake again. Kept my poor son holed up in that little room twenty-three hours with four cops taking turns on him. You want to talk to my boy, Mister, you gotta charge him or subpoena him first. Jeremy’s not saying a word without an attorney.”
Jeremy gently shoved her arm aside and stepped forward. “Mom, I’m not a suspect anymore. They got the guy who did it already. I read it in the papers.”
Her face paled. “Not one more word, Jeremy. I mean it.”
“Mrs. Jacobs, I’m Faith Clancy.” Faith’s voice was softer than cotton candy and just about as sticky-sweet, making Luke wonder if she had some buckle bunny in her after all. “Mr. Jericho and I are not detectives—we’re not any kind of law enforcement—and we know that your son played absolutely no role in Kenny Stoddard’s death.”
“Then why do you need to talk with him?”
“Because we believe he may have information that can lead us to the man who killed his friend, information that’s been overlooked but may be important in solving the cold case. For all the interrogating the police put Jeremy through, no one ever listened to him. Mr. Jericho and I want to hear what your son has to say. I promise, if Jeremy talks to us, we’ll listen.”
Mrs. Jacobs brushed her hands together and shook her head. “No. You got the guy already.”
“He confessed,” Jeremy interjected.
“You don’t need my boy to testify against a man who’s already confessed.” She pushed the door, but Jeremy caught it with his foot before it shut, then swung it wide open.
“I never saw the man who confessed. I wish I could testify against him. I wish I could see him fry. But I didn’t see him, so I can’t say I did.”
Luke’s fists tightened at his sides. He clamped his jaw shut and nodded at Faith. Let her keep the reins. She’d gotten a helluva lot further than he had to this point.
“Jeremy”—Faith held up one finger to signal this wouldn’t take long— “do you mind if I record this?”
“Yes. We mind.” The mother came up on her tiptoes.
Faith put her recorder back in her pocket. “Jeremy, have you seen pictures of the man in police custody, the man claiming to be the Saint?”
“Everyone’s seen his picture. His face is all over the news in Amarillo.” He looked away. “Don’t forget, we lost one of our own.”
“I haven’t forgotten, Jeremy. I don’t want to forget. That’s why we’re here. We want to be sure the real Santa Fe Saint gets what’s coming to him. We want justice for Kenny as much as you do. I just need to ask you a few questions.”
Jeremy nodded.
“So let me make sure I understand what you’re saying: You do not recognize the man the police have in custody. The man who claims to be the Santa Fe Saint?”
“Never saw the bastard before in my life.”
Luke couldn’t stay silent any longer. “You’re absolutely certain the man on the news is not the man you saw with Kenny on the day he disappeared.”
“Positive. I told the police then, and I’m telling you now. The guy I saw was a freaky little dude, a shrimp. I even met him once at Kenny’s place. If I saw that creep again, I’d know him in a heartbeat.”
“You actually met him?” Luke rushed forward, and Faith put her arm out, body blocking him in much the same way Mrs. Jacobs had curtailed her son.
“That’s enough.” Mrs. Jacobs clasped her hands in front of her. “My boy doesn’t know this Saint person, he’s said so, and that’s the end of it.”
“That’s because the man in custody is not the Saint.” Luke strained to keep his voice level. “He’s innocent!” So much for level.
“I don’t understand. He confessed, didn’t he?” Jeremy stepped out onto the stoop, but his mother yanked him back inside by the collar.
“My brother, Dante Jericho, is the man the police have in custody. The real Saint, who is not in police custody, is the man who killed your friend.”
Mrs. Jacobs’s eyes bulged. She shook her fist at him. “You’re his brother! If you don’t get off this property right now, I’m going to call 911.”
He ignored the pressure of Faith’s hand tugging at his shirtsleeve. “And tell them what? That a man and a woman are standing on your porch asking you polite questions? We’re not breaking any laws here, ma’am. All we’re doing is trying to get to the truth. Something I’d think you and your son would be interested in.”
“You’re trespassing on private property.” She fumbled in her pocket and came up with a cell. “Get off my porch!”
The boy put his arm around his mother. “Look. I’d like to help you. But my mom’s upset. And I can’t talk about this anymore.” He patted his mother’s hand. “I’m asking you nicely, Mr. Jericho, Dr. Clancy. Please leave. My mom and I have been through enough. Someone killed my best friend, then the police accused me. They said I murdered the best friend I ever had. My mom lost her job at the bank. Not one girl in town will go out with me. Even after all this time.”
“Look.” Luke modulated his voice and bit back his anger. “I admit I don’t know what it’s like to be accused of a crime I didn’t commit. But I do know what it’s like to have family falsely accused.” He looked pointedly at Mrs. Jacobs. “And it stinks. You wake up with a knot in your gut in the mornings, and you fall asleep with that same knot in your gut at night. Half the time you can’t eat, and when you do, your food tastes like sawdust in your mouth. When you finally fall asleep at night, you dream of falling off a cliff or drowning in the ocean. Then you wake up in a cold sweat . . . and there’s the knot again.”
Her eyes glistened, but she made no reply.
“Mrs. Jacobs, my brother is innocent. There’s talk of extradition to Texas. I know you don’t want an innocent man to die.”
“G-go away, and don’t come back here again. We want nothing more to do with this matter.”
He squeezed his eyes and gritted his teeth, knowing what he was about to do would likely get him reincarnated as a sidewinder. “Mrs. Jacobs, your son says he never saw my brother, but he did see some other man with Kenny.”
Her eyes widened, and her hands began to tremble.
He told himself the end justified the means in a situation like this, and why shouldn’t he warn the woman? “Think about what that means, Mrs. Jacobs. If Dr. Clancy and I . . .” Hesitating, he looked at Faith, who refused to meet his eyes. “If Dr. Clancy and I, who are just regular people, not detectives or anyone special like that, if we found out your son has seen the real Saint up close and personal, don’t you think the Saint knows about Jeremy, too? Mark my words, someday the real killer is going to come looking for your son. Only question is why he hasn’t come for him already.”
She drew back her shoulders and spit in his face.
He wiped his cheek and said nothing.
“You’re trying to scare me, but it won’t work. It’s been four years, and we haven’t had any trouble. They have the real Saint in custody. He confessed.”
“But what if they don’t?” Faith asked softly.
Luke spun toward her and put his hand on his heart. He knew what that must’ve cost her—to join with him in frightening this poor woman, a mother who only wanted to protect her son.
“What if they don’t have the real Saint behind bars? What if he’s still on the loose?” Faith held out her hand. “Here’s my card. You can call me on my cell if you and your son change your minds. We’re staying at the Starlight Motel, room six. Mr. Jericho and I will be in town until tomorrow afternoon.” Then she shrugged. “After that, I’m afraid we can’t help you.”