A Stolen Chance (17 page)

“Okay, my sweet dove.” Leona rolled her eyes. He added, “Let’s sit down and eat with the kids first, catch up on what’s been happening since we’ve been gone.” He spied Susan and made for her.

Carson reached her side first. “No, you don’t, Uncle. That’s my girl, and I don’t share.”

“Is that so?” Buck arched a shaggy brow at Shannon. “That boy telling the truth, or is he pulling this old man’s leg?”

Heat rose in Susan’s face. How did you answer a question like that? Carson wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Tell him, Shannon. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

She leaned into Carson’s side and nodded.

“Well, I’ll be. How about that, Leona?”

“I could’ve told you that before we left.” She winked at Susan. “Any fool could tell the two were sweet on each other.”

“Order up,” yelled George. “Shannon’s breakfast is ready, Carson. Want yours now?”

Carson nudged her toward their table. “Have a seat, and I’ll bring it to you.” He waved at his aunt and uncle. “Y’all sit down too. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

An hour later, George removed their plates while Carson refilled their coffee cups for probably the third time. Leona’s forehead wrinkled in thought. She clasped Susan’s hand. “What do we call you? Shannon or Susan?”

“Carson thought it’d be best to continue calling me Shannon in public, but we’ve decided since he knows I’m here, why continue the ruse. Call me Susan.”

“I could tell you were troubled, honey, just didn’t realize how bad the situation was. I told you you’d be in good hands here, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did. I’m glad I listened and came back.”

“Why don’t you come stay with me and Buck? Surely your ex wouldn’t think to find you there.”

“That’s kind of you, but I’d really prefer to stay here.” Susan glanced at Carson, her expression one of question. “What do you think?”

It was a possible solution, but if Dewayne wanted to get to Susan, he’d find a way, regardless of where she stayed. “No, I think she’s safer here. I’m trained to protect her, and though Uncle Buck
is
pretty good with that shotgun, I don’t want to see you two in danger.”

Susan seemed to visibly relax in the chair beside him. He was glad she trusted him enough to prefer to stay near him.

Buck straightened in his chair. “If you need someone to stand guard, I can get some of the boys from town. We could cover the front and back of the motel day and night.”

Carson stifled a shudder. The thought of some of the “boys” turned loose with rifles was worse than the thought of Dewayne and whatever weapons he might have concealed.

Buck raised a hand. “Now, I know what you’re thinking, but some of the fellas served in Vietnam, and some others in Desert Storm and Iraqi Freedom. They know how to handle themselves.”

Carson didn’t doubt his words, but it was the few yahoos thrown into the mix he worried about. He would, however, recruit Joe. They’d served together in Afghanistan. He could trust Joe for backup in a dangerous situation. Carson didn’t doubt that George, a Vietnam vet, would be good help, too. He’d talk to them both. “You’re right, but I think it best we leave things as they are for right now. We don’t want armed men scaring off customers, and if someone accidently got shot, we’d be in a lawsuit.”

“He’s right, Buck.” Leona laid a hand on her husband’s arm. “It’s too dangerous. Carson knows what he’s doing. Maybe you could bring your shotgun and leave it in the kitchen just in case of trouble.”

He nodded. “I’ll do it. Put it right by the back door.”

Whew! Carson was glad that was settled. “Now, we need to share something else with you.” Aunt Leona sat riveted to her chair as he relayed the details about their visit to Zuni Pueblo and meeting Nona Peña.

Visibly shocked, his aunt covered her mouth with a shaking hand. Finally she spoke. “All these years we had relatives.” She shook her head. “I feel we’ve been cheated. I’d like to meet them.”

“I think that can be arranged, but first I’m going to tear this place apart until I find those ceremonial fetishes.”

“We’ll help you. Just tell us what to do.” Leona stood. “Now, you two take the day off. Go do something fun.”

“Uh, I need to tell you something first.”

All eyes turned to Susan.

“I had another ghostly visit last night.”

Susan’s confession sent them directly to her cabin to inspect the mantel. Leona tapped gently along the entire surface. “I remember Grandpop replacing this board back in the 1950s. I was just a girl. Your mother was younger than me, Carson. She fell that day and cut her forehead on the hearth. Grandpop smoothed the edges up real nice so it wouldn’t be quite as dangerous.” She paused for a breath. “Of course, it’d still hurt if you fell against it, but...” She shrugged and went back to tapping on the chimneypiece. “I don’t see a seam anywhere.”

Buck moved her aside. “Let me have a go.” His taps were hard, and Carson worried the tiles below would crack and fall.

“Not so hard. It may be that the trigger isn’t even on the mantel. It could be any one of the tiles.” He turned to Shannon. “What were his exact words again?”

“He said, ‘It is in the mantel.’”

In the mantel. Carson grasped the end closest to him. “Buck, you take that end. Let’s see if we can lift the whole thing away from the tile. Gently. Don’t yank.”

It was firmly attached to either the tile or a base behind it, and no amount of jiggling and tapping would move it.

Buck strode to the door. “I’ll get an axe from the utility shed.”

“No!” He and Leona shouted the answer at the same time.

Lips pursed, Aunt Leona shook a finger at her husband and then pointed it at Carson, too. “I’ll not allow this place to be damaged in any way. Do you understand me?”

“I agree.” Carson loved the artwork his great-grandfather had created. They’d find the hidden objects somehow, but the fireplace and the ledge would be preserved.

Buck threw up his hands. “All right. You’ve got more patience than I do. Come on, woman, let’s get back and help George.”

Carson breathed a sigh of relief when they were gone. He turned to Susan. “Any ideas?”

“Nope, but he did say he’d be back, so maybe he’ll tell me more then.” She ran her hand lovingly over the mantel’s wood. “It’s so smooth. I don’t see how it can open anywhere.”

Frankly, Carson didn’t either, but there was nothing they could do about opening it today. They’d wait to hear from Grandpop again. He restrained a guffaw and scratched his head. Here he was, considering the fact his great-grandfather had actually materialized before Susan, again. Not only appeared but talked to, again. He shrugged. His aunt and uncle didn’t seem to have a problem with her story, so why should he? He gazed around the apartment. “Grandpop didn’t leave another fetish, did he?”

“Nope. I looked everywhere this morning.” Susan clutched the bear around her neck. “He did mention that it was good I wore White Bear, that he would help me fight Dewayne.”

****

Dewayne swallowed his apprehension and parked in one of the garages, a different one this time, of the old motor court down the road from the Siesta motel. He didn’t want a repeat visit from the old man. He chuckled. Almost scared the piss out of him.

He’d found a wooden crate and an old oil drum to help hoist him up to a level area on the roof of the sturdiest cottage. From there, he could watch the comings and goings of the people at the Siesta. Yeah, he’d seen his bitch of an ex-wife, along with her lover. No doubt the waitress had mentioned his visit, and they’d both be suspicious. His mug had been plastered all over the news, thanks to that waitress. Most likely his gesture to the security camera in Albuquerque didn’t help, but he’d been unable to resist. No matter. He intended to wait long enough to allow Susan and Rhodes to let down their guard.

This morning some old couple showed up. They’d all gone rushing over to cabin number one—Susan’s cabin. Or he should say Shannon’s. Surely she didn’t think changing her name would save her from his revenge. Admittedly she had eluded him for longer than he’d thought possible, but her freedom would end when she least expected it to.

The old couple came out and headed back to the restaurant. Not ten minutes later Susan, carrying a midsized purse tucked under her arm, came out with the detective, and they walked to a truck parked at the other end of the motel. They got in and drove off. Shit! By the time he got off the roof and into his little Cavalier wagon, they’d be long gone. He’d just stay up here awhile and see what went on over there. They might be back shortly. He thought about the purse. She’d never carried one of those strapless bags that you clutch in your hand or carry under the arm. She’d always favored shoulder bags, ones that held a lot of crap. Odd. Had she changed that much?

Two hours later, the truck drove back into the lot and stopped in front of Susan’s cottage. Rhodes hopped out and ran around to open the door for her. Dewayne snorted.
Damn fool is besotted.
He focused the binoculars on that purse. Something about the shape had been bugging him. It was kidney shaped and zipped closed.
Well, I’ll be damned.
It was a soft pistol case. His ex was packing heat. He threw back his head and laughed. His chuckle ended on an “umph” as he lost his hold on the roof and slid. He slipped down a few feet before regaining his footing, and then eased off the roof.

He rubbed his hands in glee. They’d probably been out to a shooting range somewhere. If that fool detective thought he could teach Susan enough to thwart him, he was kidding himself. She’d never get a chance to fire off a round. For that matter, neither would her lover. Dewayne was no fool, and they’d both be dead before they knew he was on them. No, that wouldn’t do. He’d have to kill Rhodes. He wanted to play with Susan, make her beg before he took her life.

****

Dewayne shivered beneath the blanket he’d bought at Walmart in Gallup. He should’ve bought a sleeping bag, one designed for low temperatures. Trying to get comfortable, he turned onto his side. He wasn’t a big man, but the fold-down back seats in his car didn’t provide much room to stretch out. Plus, it was hard as hell. Even parked in the little garage, with the door down, it was too damn cold.

Revenge had its limits, even for him. Getting even could wait until it warmed up and the snow melted. She wasn’t going anywhere, and with all the snow, his tire tracks and footprints were visible to anyone driving through.

Not an hour ago, he’d heard a car. Was it possible the cops were keeping an eye out for him?

Hell, the cops? How about the old man who’d visited him the other night? That was an experience he didn’t want to repeat. He sat up, kicked out of the covers, and inched his way out a side door. The glow from the overhead light allowed him to find the flashlight in the front seat. With it casting a path of light across the hard-packed dirt floor, he inched his way to the old garage door. The wood creaked and the rusted metal springs popped as he pushed it up to fit against the ceiling. That it functioned after all these years remained a mystery.

A gust of wind whipped around him, and he scurried to hop into the driver’s seat. The old Cavalier engine turned over when he turned the key. Lights off, he backed out and made his way to the dilapidated two-lane road.

When he reached the access road to I-40, he flipped on the headlights and headed west. He’d make Arizona before sunrise and hole up in a motel somewhere until the weather turned warmer.

Chapter Sixteen

Susan woke warm and snug in her bed. She tried to turn over but couldn’t move her feet. Hans lay curled on top of them. At her movement, he looked up and made to move. “It’s okay, boy. Come on up here.” Poor thing, he must have gotten cold during the night. He didn’t hesitate to move up on the bed and curl up beside her. She lifted an arm from under the cover to throw over him, but yanked it back in. Dang, it was icy in here. She jumped out of bed, turned up the heat, and quickly glanced through the window. Moonlight glistened on the snow-covered ground. The neon motel sign cast a haze of green, yellow, and red across the white layer. She shook her head and grinned. The scene reminded her of striped taffy candy. She scooted under the covers and moved close to Hans’s heat. The bedside clock read four a.m.—time for several more hours of sleep.

A knock on the door woke her. She rolled out of bed and peeked out the window to find Carson on the small step. Her flannel pajamas covered her from head to foot, so she opened the door. He stomped the snow from his boots and stepped inside. When his gaze raked up and down her body, the room grew considerably warmer. He leaned in and whispered against her hair, “Good morning, sleepyhead.” His lips grazed her cheek and landed on her lips. “Mmm, delicious.”

She covered her mouth. “Eek, my mouth feels yucky.” She pulled away. “Let me run brush my teeth.”

In the bathroom, she squeezed toothpaste onto her brush and started brushing, while Carson leaned against the door frame and watched. His presence didn’t embarrass her or make her feel awkward, but she watched him in the mirror as he turned to the room behind him. At the sight of Hans atop her bed, his jaw dropped. He stepped toward the dog and ordered, “Down!” The dog considered him disdainfully, stretched, and rolled to his feet before hopping down. Carson turned on her, his face stern. “You can’t spoil him like that. He’s a guard dog, not a lap dog.”