Dangerous Refuge (14 page)

Twenty-one

F
inally.

The watcher had almost given up on Tanner and Shaye leaving.

Guess they decided not to call the cops.

In some ways, that was too bad. It might have made things easier, because everyone’s favorite suspect would have been Tanner. In other ways, it was just as well. Everything was back on track. Better than back. There was nothing to tie Rua’s murder into anything else.

Two down, none to go.

Unless Tanner becomes a problem. He sure connected the dots fast.

Be a shame if Shaye gets in the way, but shit happens.

I’ll worry about that later. Right now my pistol has an appointment with the deepest part of the lake.

Twenty-two

T
anner’s car went downhill toward the valley, gravity assisting the balky engine. Shaye barely noticed. The adrenaline jag was wearing off, leaving her feeling tired and edgy at the same time.

“You doing okay?” Tanner asked after a long silence.

“I don’t know.”

“Tell me if I can do anything,” was all he said.

You could hold me.

But she kept that thought to herself. He couldn’t hug her like a child and drive. She turned away from the side window where night rushed past her and looked at Tanner. His expression was neutral, his hands calm as he coaxed and guided the unhappy car through the twists and turns of the mountain road.

The strength in him should have frightened rather than soothed her. He was one of the people who knew all about bullets and flesh. Yet his undemanding presence eased her in ways she couldn’t describe.

“I know that people kill people all the time,” she said finally. “At least, I know up here.” She tapped her forehead. “But knowing it right here”—she put her fist against her stomach—“is a whole lot different.”

“It changes you,” he said. “You get used to it, but you never look at people the same way again.”

“I’m not sure I like it,” Shaye said after a few miles. “And I know that liking has nothing to do with it.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you come along tonight.”

“You warned me. I don’t blame you. I don’t even blame myself. I’m just . . .”

“Adjusting?”

She sighed. “I sure hope so. I’d hate to feel like this forever.”

“Like what?”

“Edgy. Adrift. Like I want to scream but don’t know why. Waiting for something else to blow up in my face. Not knowing how or when to duck, but certain I’ll have to without warning.”

Tanner knew what she meant. He had felt that way. So had every other intelligent person confronted by unexpected, violent death.

The road straightened out, allowing him to take one hand off the wheel. He touched her cheek, soft yet taut, cool yet with life beating just beneath. She was as pale as granite in the moonlight.

“There’s a small blanket in the backseat,” he said. “Or I could turn up the heat.”

At his words, she realized she was cold. She reached into the backseat, fumbled, and connected with something as soft as a sigh. Pulling the blanket into the front seat, she wrapped it around herself and rubbed her cheek against it.

“Nice,” she murmured.

“I have touchy skin,” he said. “I like soft things. I think I became a detective because I hate starched uniforms.”

She made a sound that was suspiciously close to a giggle.

“I took a lot of crap for it from the other cops,” he said. “I just smiled and agreed I’m a pussy who likes to snuggle up with something that feels good on my skin.”

Definitely a giggle.

He glanced over. She was relaxing a little, looking less like she might bolt or throw up.

“Good thing I live in the modern age,” he continued. “Wool underwear would have made me miserable. China would have been an okay place to live, as long as I was one of the elite who wore silk underwear.”

She laughed much too hard at his words, took a shaky breath, and then another, and another, until her breathing evened out.

He touched her cheek again. “You’re doing a lot better than most rookies with their first murder.”

And she had seen two in only a few days.

But he wasn’t going to talk about that. She had had enough for tonight.

Tanner didn’t even offer to take Shaye back to her condo. He knew she didn’t want to be alone tonight any more than he did. He might have seen a lot more violence than she had, but it still bruised him. He had just learned to live without it showing on the outside.

Bare granite was bleached white by the moon that was now high in the sky. The valley below looked pale where the pastures were dry, dark where they were irrigated, and became hammered silver wherever there was surface water. Random lights lay like colorful embers scattered unevenly across the land.

“It looks the same,” Shaye said to herself.

Tanner heard, and understood.

“The land lives in a different time than we do,” he said.

And that was one of the things he had left behind without knowing it. And missed it the same way. For him, somehow the enduring land balanced the uncertainty of human life.

She leaned against the seat and sighed. “I don’t like to think of Rua lying in that room staring at nothing.”

“He doesn’t care.”

“Do you?”

“I can’t afford to care about him beyond the fact that if Lorne was murdered, then Rua is the link,” Tanner said evenly. “Now that link is broken. I don’t have any direct way to find out how the hell Rua knew about Lorne’s coins and if he killed Lorne for them or for another reason entirely.”

She made a small sound. “What other reason?”

“Someone got fed up with Lorne’s abrasive ways and wanted him dead. Someone heard about the coins and wanted them and Lorne was in the way. Someone wanted the land to go to the Conservancy and killed Lorne to speed the process. Someone wanted his land and killed him before he could give it to the Conservancy. Someone lost too much on Tuesday nights and—”

“You’re giving me a headache,” she interrupted.

“Only fair. I have one big enough to share.”

“But then who really killed him?”

“Lorne or Rua?” he asked.

“Now I have your headache. Do you think the same person killed both of them?”

“Possible.”

“But not probable?”

“Given Rua’s history, I could draw up a long and interesting list of people who might have had reason to kill him,” Tanner said. “I’m having a hard time believing any of them also would have a reason to kill my uncle.”

He turned off onto the dirt road leading to Lorne’s house.

“So we’re stuck unless more coins turn up and we find out who sold them this time?” Shaye asked.

“Or we find a suspect that connects Rua to Lorne.”

“That’s a stretch. Lorne wouldn’t have let someone like Rua on the ranch, and someone like Rua wouldn’t have known who Lorne was.”

“Exactly. You’d make a good detective.”

She stared at Tanner. “Why? All I can think of are reasons why their deaths
aren’t
logically connected.”

“Except by the coins.”

“Maybe whoever killed Rua knew about the coins and wanted the ones he hadn’t traded and didn’t want to pay for them.”

“Robbery has led to more than one murder,” Tanner agreed.

“You aren’t helping my headache.”

“Nothing will help your headache but a soak in the hot springs at the ranch.”

“I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“The hot springs don’t care.” He glanced at her, saw she was nibbling on her sexy lip, and said, “You can go in naked, or in your underwear with me, or in your underwear without me, or—”

“No more choices!”

“Okay.” He touched her cheek for an instant before he returned to driving the rough road. “We’ll figure it out. Death has a way of really clarifying what’s important.”

When she realized he was right, she let out a long sigh.

They were silent as he drove up and parked behind the small house next to Lorne’s truck. They got out at the same time and looked at the dark windows.

“I feel like an intruder,” she said as they headed toward the front door.

“I wish I did.”

“Why?”

The door opened easily to Tanner’s key.

“It’s too damn familiar,” he said, “like I never left, like I can just pick up where Lorne left off and never miss a beat.”

“And that’s bad.”

There was no question in her voice, just a sadness that surprised both of them.

“It’s not real,” Tanner said. “I have a life in L.A.”
Even if I don’t want to go back and kiss the captain’s ass until he giggles. Two years and I’ll have twenty in.
“I was happy on this ranch, but it was a kid’s happiness. That kid is as dead as Lorne.”

He walked by memory through the darkness until he had gone all the way to the back door, a test he wasn’t sure if he had passed or failed.

He found the light switch. The overheads in the kitchen and mudroom flickered on slowly, pinging in the quiet. The blue-green light made the room seem even smaller, casting odd shadows and creating pools of darkness. At least one of the bulbs needed replacing. It had been out last night, too. He just hadn’t really noticed.

She followed him into the small mudroom on the back of the kitchen, walking past Lorne’s beaten up work boots and battered Stetson, trying to shake off the feeling of being an intruder.

“I’ll get some towels for the hot springs,” Tanner said. “If you want coffee—”

“I’ll make some,” she said. “I’ve watched Lorne do it, so I know to only add half the coffee he does. Unless you like it his way?”

“I learned to drink it that way. I’d just as soon keep the enamel on my teeth, though.”

She smiled. “So would I.”

She walked to the stove, lifted the pan Lorne had always used to boil water, and filled it at the sink. While she made coffee Tanner found towels in the old trunk that served as a linen cupboard. The towels, like the bedsheets, were worn but serviceable.

The condoms were where they had always been, at the bottom of the trunk. The box was unopened. The expiration date on the package said the contents were a long way from being past their shelf life. His uncle might have stopped going to the whorehouses at the northern end of the big valley, but apparently he hadn’t stopped buying condoms at the town drugstore.

Whether his uncle had been motivated by pride or pragmatism, Tanner was grateful. He opened the box and stuffed some of the contents in his hip pocket. When he had rushed out of L.A., he hadn’t expected to find in Refuge a woman who made him feel teenage hungry just by looking at her. If she was willing—big if—he damn sure wanted to be able. The condom in his wallet had been there too long to be trusted.

He picked up the towels and headed into the kitchen.

“Water’s almost boiling. It will take a few minutes to drip through,” she said.

“We’ll have some when we get back.”

After stacking the towels on the small kitchen table, he went to the counter. He opened the top drawer. It jammed halfway out.

I’ll have to find some paraffin to put on the wood,
Tanner thought.
Everything about this place needs work. I should go to the hardware store, and while I’m at it, I should get some lumber and fix that old mudroom, maybe build another room and—

Abruptly he realized where his thoughts were going. He was actually looking forward to swinging a hammer and tightening screws, fixing drawers, and replacing window casements and the sagging corner on the front porch.

Are you crazy? You’re not a kid anymore. Stop thinking like one.

He wrenched the drawer open with the kind of casual strength Lorne had lost to age. Part of the contents flew out and scattered on the floor. Swearing under his breath, Tanner bent to pick everything up. Among the screws and rubber bands lay a pocketknife. Its handle was black plastic made up like wood with tarnished metal hubs on either end. He knew without opening it that the blade was black and dull.

The knife had once been his. It was a child’s toy, not a real tool.

That child grew up,
he told himself.

He pocketed the knife with automatic motions, realized what he’d done, and tossed the knife back in the junk drawer.

“Something wrong?” Shaye asked.

“I’m an idiot. Nothing new.”

He picked up the rest of the odds and ends on the floor. There was a matchbook and a couple of bullet casings, a chewed-up comb, and a photograph so faded that you could barely see the woman in it. When he turned it over, he saw the words
From Millie xoxoxo
written in ballpoint ink, blue as the summer sky. He dumped everything back in the drawer and searched until he found the spare set of truck keys. They were on a chain with a black-and-white compass floating in its still-clear globe.

“Is that the treasure drawer?” Shaye asked.

“Lorne called it the junk drawer.” He put the keys in his pocket. “Guess everybody has one, right?”

“Several, in my case,” she admitted. “I call it my desk.”

He smiled despite his double-edged memories. The rechargeable flashlight waited in its bracket near the kitchen counter. He wished he could plug himself into a wall socket and get new energy. He felt cold and drained and at war with himself over the childish lure of the ranch.

And he wanted Shaye until he had to remind himself to breathe.

He knew he shouldn’t touch her. She was off balance, bruised by violence, too soft for a cop who had seen too much. He felt too full, like his skin was going to split and open into something new, something utterly unexpected. Part of him was frightened. A bigger part of him couldn’t wait.

He closed his eyes and fought for control.

When he opened them again, she was watching him, knowledge in her eyes. She saw everything in him, all the cold and unease and consuming need. He didn’t like being that transparent and couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

And she was afraid of him.

Smart woman. Way too smart for a dumb piece of meat like me.

He slammed the drawer, catching some of his skin in it along the way, burning a jagged star of pain up and down his forearm. He grabbed a hand towel off its wall hook and headed for the sink.

“Tanner?”

“The water is boiling,” he said, turning on the faucet. “Make the coffee and I’ll drive you to the hot springs.”

“What about you?”

He shoved his hand under the cold water. “You’re better off without me.”

“When I believe that, I’ll tell you myself.”

He didn’t look up. “It was written all over your face. You’re afraid of me.”

She poured the water into the drip pot before she went to stand beside him. Close.