Dangerous (3 page)

They were both remembering an earlier incident, when Winnie was a new dispatcher and she’d failed to mention a gun involved in a domestic dispute. Kilraven had been involved in that one, and he’d given her a lecture about it. She was much more careful now.

“How did you know?” Keely persisted.

“I really couldn’t say.” Winnie laughed. “I’ve had feelings like that all my life, known things that I had no reason to know. My grandmother used to set the table for company when we didn’t even know anybody was coming. They’d show up just when she thought they would. The second sight, she called it.”

“A gift. I’ve heard them say that Cash Grier’s wife, Tippy, has it.”

“So have I.” Winnie shrugged. “I don’t know, though. I just get feelings. Usually they’re bad ones.” She looked up at Keely. “I’ve had one all day. I can’t shake it. And I don’t think Kilraven’s reaction to my gift was the reason. I wonder…”

“Who’s that coming up the driveway?” Boone Sinclair asked, joining them. He brushed a kiss against Keely’s mouth. “Expecting someone?” he asked her, including Winnie in the question.

“No,” Winnie said.

“Me, either,” Winnie replied. “It isn’t Clark?”

He shook his head. “He flew up to Dallas this morning for a meeting with some cattle buyers for me.” He frowned as he went to the window. “Old car,” he remarked. “Well kept, but old. There are two people in it.” His face tautened as a woman got out of the driver’s seat and went around to the passenger side. She stood in the edge of the security lights because it was already dark. Boone recognized her just from the way she walked. She spoke to someone in the car, was handed a briefcase out the window. She smiled, nodded, and turned toward the house. She hesitated just for a minute before she started up the steps to the front door. Boone got a good look at her, then. She was, he thought, the spitting image of Winnie. His face went harder.

Keely knew something was going on from their expressions. Winnie was staring out the window next to Boone, her dark eyes flashing like sirens. Before Keely could ask a single question, Winnie exploded.

“Her!” she exclaimed. “How dare she come here! How dare she!”

2

Winnie stormed out into the hall. Her face was taut with anger.

“Who is she?” Keely asked Boone, concerned.

His own face had gone hard. “Our mother,” he said bitterly. “We haven’t seen her since she left. She ran away with our uncle and divorced our dad to marry him.”

“Oh, dear,” Keely said, biting her lip. She looked up at his angry expression. “I think I’ll go on upstairs. It might be better if the two of you saw her alone.”

“I was thinking the same thing myself. I’ll tell you all about it later,” Boone said gently, kissing her.

“Okay.”

W
INNIE HAD ALREADY
thrown open the front door. She looked at the older version of herself with seething hatred. “What do you want here?” she demanded hotly.

The woman, tall and dignified, her blond hair sprinkled with gray but neatly combed, wearing a dark pantsuit, blinked as if the assault was unexpected. She frowned. “Winona?” she asked.

Winnie turned and stormed back into the living room.

Boone’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re here looking for money,” he began in a cold tone.

“I have a good job,” she replied, puzzled. “Why would I want money from you?”

He hesitated, but only for a moment. He stood aside, stone-faced, and let her in the door. She was carrying a briefcase. She looked around, as if she didn’t recognize her surroundings. It had been a very long time since she’d lived here.

She turned to Boone, very businesslike and solemn. “I have some things for you. They belonged to your father, but your uncle took them with him when he…when he and I,” she corrected, forcing the words out through her teeth, “left here.”

“What sort of things?” Boone asked.

“Heirlooms,” she replied.

“Why didn’t our uncle come with you?”

Her eyebrows arched. “He’s been dead for a month. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

“Sorry,” he said stiffly. “It must be sad for you.”

“I divorced your uncle twelve years ago,” she said flatly. “He’s been living with a woman who makes her living as a low-level drug dealer, selling meth on the streets. She’s an addict herself.” She indicated the briefcase. “I told her these things belonged to her boyfriend’s family and that legal proceedings might ensue if she didn’t hand them over.” Her expression was determined. “They belong here.”

He motioned her into the living room. Winnie was sitting stiffly in an armchair, as welcoming as a cobra.

The older woman sat down gracefully on the sofa, her eyes going to the mantel, over which hung a painting of Boone and Winnie and Clark’s late father. Her gaze lingered on it sadly, but only for seconds. She put the briefcase on the coffee table and opened it. She drew out several items, some made of gold, including pieces of jewelry that were worth a king’s ransom.

“These belonged to your great-grandmother,” she told the other occupants of the room. “She was a high-born Spanish lady from Andalusia who came here with her father to sell a rancher a prize stallion. Your great-grandfather was a ranch foreman who worked for the owner. He had very little money, but grand dreams, and he was a hard worker. She fell in love with him and married him. It was her inheritance that bought this land and built the house that originally sat on it.” She smiled. “They said she could outride any of the cowboys, and that she once actually fought a bull that had gored her husband, using her mantilla as a cape. Saved his life.”

“There’s a painting of her in the upstairs guest bedroom,” Boone said quietly, lifting one of the brooches in his strong, dark hands.

“Why did you bother to bring them back?” Winnie asked coldly.

“They’d have been sold to buy drugs,” she replied simply. “I felt responsible for them. Bruce took them when we left.” Her face hardened. “He felt that he was deliberately left out of your grandfather’s will. He was furious when your father inherited the ranch. He wanted to get even.”

“So he corrupted you and forced you to run away with him,” Winnie said with an icy smile.

“I wasn’t forced,” the older woman said kindly. “I was naive and stupid. And I don’t expect to be welcomed back into the family because I returned a few heirlooms.” She picked up her briefcase and stood up. Her eyes went from her son to her daughter. “Is Clark here?”

Boone shook his head. “On a date.”

She smiled sadly. “I would like to have seen him. It’s been so long.”

“Your choice, wasn’t it?” Winnie demanded. She stood up, too, dark eyes blazing. “Dad hated you for leaving, and I look like you, don’t I? I paid for his pain. Paid for it every miserable day he was alive.”

“I’m sorry,” the older woman said haltingly.

“Sorry. Sorry!” Winnie jerked up her blouse and turned around. “Want to see how sorry you should really be?”

Boone caught his breath at the marks on her back. There were scars. Two of them. They ran across her spine in white trails. “You never told me he did that!” Boone accused, furious.

“He said that if I told, you and Clark would have similar souvenirs,” she bit off, pulling her blouse down.

The older woman winced. So did Boone.

“I’ve wanted to see you for years,” Winnie said, reddening. “I wanted to tell you how much I hated you for running off and leaving us!”

She only nodded. “I don’t blame you, Winona,” she said in a steady, calm voice. “I did a terrible thing, to all of you.” She drew in a long breath and smiled sadly. “You won’t believe it, but there was a price that I had to pay, too.”

“Good,” Winnie bit off. “I’m glad! Now please leave. And don’t come back.”

She whirled and ran up the staircase.

Boone walked his mother to the door and opened it for her. His expression was unrelenting. But his eyes were curious, especially when he saw that she had a passenger in her car. It wasn’t a new car, but it was well kept. He noted her clothing. Not from upscale stores, but serviceable and not cheap. Her shoes were thick soled and laced up. She was immaculately clean, even her fingernails. He wondered what she did for a living. She seemed a sensible woman.

“Thank you for bringing the heirlooms home,” he said after a minute.

Gail Rogers Sinclair looked up at him with quiet pride. “You look like your father, as he did when we were first married.” She frowned. “Didn’t I read that you married this year?”

“Yes. Her name is Keely. She works for a local vet.”

She nodded. “Her mother was killed.”

He blinked. “Yes.”

“At least that crime was quickly solved,” she replied. “This new murder in Jacobsville is getting a lot of attention from the Feds. I don’t think it’s going to be as easy to catch the perpetrator.” She searched his eyes. “There may be a tie from the case to your uncle,” she said calmly. “I’m not sure yet, but it could mean some bad publicity for all three of you. I’ll try to keep it quiet, but these things have a way of getting out. There’s always some resourceful reporter with a reputation to build.”

“That’s true.” He was curious about her familiarity with the case. “How are you involved?” He wanted to know.

“That’s need to know, and you don’t,” she said, gentling the words with a smile. “I understand that Winnie works as a dispatcher with emergency services. I’m very proud of her. It’s a generous thing she does, working for her living. She would never have to.”

“Yes. How is our uncle concerned with the murder?”

“I don’t know that yet. It’s still under investigation. Messy,” she added. “Very, very messy, and it may involve some important people before it’s over. But it shouldn’t cause any problems for you three,” she added. “The murderer doesn’t have anything to fear from you.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to go. I came down to confer with a friend, and I’m late. I’m sorry I didn’t get to see Clark. What does he do?”

“He works with me on the ranch,” Boone said. He was adding up her attitude and her indifference to their wealth and her sadness. “Someday,” he said, “maybe we need to talk.”

She smiled at him with quiet eyes. “There’s nothing more to be said. We can’t change the past. I made mistakes that I can’t ever correct or atone for. Now, I just get on with my job and try to help where I can. Take care. It was very good to see the two of you, even under the circumstances.” She looked at him for a moment more, so much pain in her eyes and in her face that it made him feel guilty.

Finally, she turned and walked down the steps toward the car. Boone watched her, scowling, his hands in his pockets. She got into the car, spoke to a shorter person in the passenger seat, started the engine and slowly drove away.

Winnie came back down after the car was gone. Her eyes were wet, her face red with bad temper despite Keely’s comforting upstairs. “She’s gone, then. Good riddance!”

Boone was pensive. “I wish you’d told me what Dad did to you.”

She managed a wan smile. “I wanted to. But I was afraid of what he might do. He really hated me. He said that I was the image of my mother, but he was going to make sure that I never wanted to follow in her footsteps.”

“He kept you in church every time it was open,” he replied quietly.

“Yes.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “And threatened every boy who came here to see me. I ended up with a nonexistent social life.” She sighed. “I suppose I’m very repressed.”

“You’re also very nice,” Boone said. He put his arms around her and hugged her fondly. “You know, despite the misery of our childhoods, we’ve done pretty well, haven’t we?”

“You certainly have,” she said, wiping away the tears. She smiled. “I love Keely. She’s not only my best friend, now she’s my sister-in-law.”

He was somber. “You saved her life after the rattlesnake bit her,” he said quietly. “She would have died, and I would have been responsible.” His face hardened. “I can’t imagine why I believed such lies about her.”

“I’m sure your ex-girlfriend’s detective was convincing,” she said. “You shouldn’t look back. Keely loves you. She never stopped, not even when she thought you hated her.”

He smiled. “I was a hard case.”

“Well, we’re all victims of our childhood, I suppose. Dad was tough on you, too.”

“He couldn’t beat me down,” he recalled. “He got furious at me, but he respected me.”

“That was probably what saved you from the treatment I got.” She sighed. “It was twelve years ago when she left. I was ten. Ten years old.”

“I was technically an adult,” he recalled. “Clark was in junior high.” He shook his head. “I still don’t understand why she left Dad for our uncle. He was a shallow man, no real character and no work ethic. It’s no surprise to me that he was dealing drugs. He always did look for the easy way to get money. Dad bailed him out of jail more than once for stealing.”

“Yes.” She looked at the heirlooms lying on the coffee table. “It’s surprising that our mother brought those back. She could have sold them for a lot of money.”

“Quite a lot of money,” Boone said. He frowned, recalling what she’d said about their uncle’s possible connection to people suspected in the local murder. He looked at Winnie, but he didn’t say anything about it. She was too shaken already. It could wait. “I wonder who she had with her in the car?” he added suddenly.

She turned. “A boyfriend, maybe,” she said curtly. “I could tell he was male from upstairs. But he looked pretty short.”

“Not our business,” Boone said. He picked up a brooch with a tiny painting of a beautiful little Spanish girl, in her middle to late teens by the look of her, dressed all in black with a mantilla. Her red lipstick and a red rose in her hair under the black lace mantilla were the only bright things in the miniature. Her hair was long, black and shiny. She had a tiny, strange little smile on her lips. Mysterious. He smiled, just looking at it. “I wonder who she was?” he mused aloud.

“Turn it over. Maybe there’s initials or something,” she suggested, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

He did. He frowned. “It’s labeled with a piece of tape. Señorita Rosa Carrera y Sinclair.” He whistled. “This was our great-grandmother, when she was first married! I should have known, but the portrait of her upstairs was painted when she was older.”