Give Him the Slip (8 page)

He jackknifed up. "Excuse me?"

"Well, somebody's being stupid here." She lifted her
chin, letting him know that "somebody" wasn't her. The dog sidled
past her and leaped onto the bed, then stretched out beside Luke. Of the two,
Maddie thought, Knucklehead had more sense. "I guess the truth will tell.
If I'm inventing this story, then I won't be able to produce the cache of
mushrooms, now, will I? I don't suppose you'd like to make a bet on the
outcome, would you, ex-agent Callahan? I've got my eye on a pretty little purse
at the Brazos Bend Boutique."

A muscle worked in Luke's jaw and a chill entered those gorgeous
green eyes. Maddie glared right back at him. She wished he'd put on some
clothes. Cover up, at least. Unfortunately, his lack of character didn't
distract from the appeal of washboard abs and a substantial package.

Maddie was tired, desperate, and scared. She held on to her
patience by a string. Why did Branch Callahan have to go and lie about Terry
Winston? For that matter, why couldn't Branch have had girls rather than boys?
If he'd had an ex-DEA agent daughter, she'd have helped Maddie rather than let
her down. Women didn't let Maddie down.

A sense of hopelessness washed over her. Tears threatened, but she
fought them back. "Look. Never mind. Maybe it's best we just forget about
it. I'll find someone else to help me."

He muttered something under his breath that she couldn't quite
catch, then said, "If by some wild chance you're telling the truth—and I'm
not for a minute saying I believe you—do you have a clue of the kind of trouble
you're in?"

Maddie's spirit came roaring back at that. She rolled her eyes,
then dramatically clapped a hand to her chest. "Trouble? Me? Do ya
think?"

When he lowered his brow and scowled at her, Maddie sneered right
back. "Welcome to this week, Agent Callahan. Yes, I know I'm in trouble.
You see, in addition to having millions of dollars worth of a controlled
substance in my vehicle and killers on my tail, I have another little
worry."

His scowl morphed into a grimace. "Don't tell me you're
pregnant. The hooker tried that one when I wouldn't cave."

"I'm not pregnant, G-man." She lifted up the left side
of her T-shirt and tugged down the waistband of the gym shorts she wore,
revealing a small, artistic tattoo on her hip. "I'm on parole."

"That's a prison tat!" Luke's appalled gaze zeroed in on
the figure on her hip. He recognized the style. The artist. "That's Wanda
Jarrell's work."

It was a stylized version of a Texas Department of Corrections
number about as big as his thumb in colors of green, blue, and red.

"I thought you might recognize it. I understand Wanda's work
is very well known among law enforcement officials as well as inmates."

Luke managed little more than a nod. Wanda Jarrell had made a name
for herself with her creative designs utilizing a person's Texas Department of
Corrections number.

"I firmly believe that had Wanda's family circumstances been
different, her work would be hanging in museums rather than on convicts' biceps
and butts," Maddie added.

"Why...?"

She sighed and let loose her T-shirt. Luke knew a small sense of
loss as the sexy little scroll was covered. "I did it on a dare," she
replied. "That and to serve as a permanent reminder of my stupidity. Plus,
I truly like her artistry."

He shook his head. He'd not been asking why the tattoo, but rather
why the DOC prison number. "Who the hell are you, woman?"

"It's complicated. I—"

His lawman's senses on high alert, Luke reached beside the bed for
his gun. He didn't know who sent her, or why she was there, but he wasn't
taking chances with this sort of thing.

"Who sent you?"

"Oh, for crying out loud."

"Who sent you, Maddie? Goddammit, I can't believe I almost
let a piece of ass—"

"Hold it right there," she snapped, dismissing the weapon
in his hand, folding her arms, and lifting her chin. "No need to be
snotty."

He mouthed the word "snotty," then grimaced and shoved
his fingers through his hair. "Start talking."

"Would you put the gun away? I swear. You wave that thing
around as if it were a second penis."

Luke narrowed his eyes and glared at her, then lowered the gun. He
did not, however, return it to his nightstand.

Maddie nodded, then asked, "What do you want to know?"

"Oh, I have quite a list. Who you are, why you're here, why you
have one of Wanda Jarrell's prison tattoos on your ass, to name a few."

Maddie wrinkled her nose. "It's on my hip, and as a point of
fact, it's not a prison tattoo. I've never been to prison."

"I recognize—"

"I was in state jail. There's a difference. It might not be
significant to you, but it is to me. I really am Maddie Kincaid. I really do
own a senior care business in Brazos Bend, and your father really is one of my
clients. Everything I told you is the truth."

"You're telling me Branch Callahan hired a convict to wash
his socks?" Luke asked in a scathing, disbelieving tone.

She lifted her chin. "He likes my pesto."

"I just bet he does."

He could tell by the look in her eyes that Maddie wanted to tell
him where he could stuff his suspicions, but she must have decided that doing
so wasn't in her best interests.

She visibly tamped down her pique. "I write letters for him.
His penmanship is no longer legible, so every day, I go to Callahan House and
he dictates three letters to me. You're right that your father didn't know
about my record when he hired me. Before yesterday when I explained my troubles
to Branch, the only person in Brazos Bend who knew about my past was Kathy
Hudson."

"The lady who owns the Dairy Princess?"

Maddie nodded.

He recalled the woman, who'd be in her late fifties or early
sixties now. She'd kept the jukebox at the Dairy Princess playing nonstop.
"She started a riot in downtown Brazos Bend the day the Beatles announced
their breakup."

"She makes a pilgrimage to Graceland every year."

Luke eyed Maddie's features, searching for a resemblance to the
woman he remembered from his youth. "Whoa. Are you her daughter? The one
who ran away?"

Maddie shook her head. "I'm not Sparkle. Kathy and I aren't
family. She's my friend."

"Why? How? How about you tell your story in one piece so that
it makes some sense? How did you get to be friends with Brazos Bend's queen of
rock and roll? What? Are you Ringo's lost love child or something?"

She blinked. After visually weighing her words, she said,
"Kathy wrote to me in jail. We became pen pals, and she invited me to live
with her when I got out."

Luke could tell there was more to that part of the story, but he
pursued what he considered to be a more important path. "So what were you
in for?"

She closed her eyes. "Possession of a controlled
substance."

Luke's mouth curled and he shook his head in disgust. "A
goddamn doper."

"I've never taken drugs in my life!"

"No? I suppose you sold them. Like seeing little crack
babies, Maddie? Like how they scream for a fix?"

"I don't deal, either!" One of Knucklehead's plastic
chew toys lay on the floor, and she gave it a swift kick. "It was my
boyfriend. He planted the grass on me and it was only a small amount. Less than
an ounce. It was my first and only arrest."

Grass? Brows arching in disbelief, Luke scoffed, "And they
sent you to jail for that? Sorry, hon. I know the way the system works. I know
better."

"I'm telling you the truth. I wasn't dealing. It was
possession, and the evading arrest charge was just bogus. They made an example
of me because of who I am."

Evading arrest, too. This just got better and better. He held up
his hands, palms out. "And you're who? The queen of Sheba?"

She opened her mouth, then abruptly shut it. "Oh, just forget
it. Forget everything. I was a fool to think you might help me. You're a man!
How could I have forgotten that? You dangle the evidence in front of me every
chance you get. Just take me back to the marina tomorrow, and I'll go on to
plan B."

"My evidence doesn't dangle," he fired back, setting his
gun into the nightstand drawer. "It... presents."

Maddie snorted.

Ignoring that reaction, he asked, "What's plan B?"

"I don't have one yet, but I'll think of something."

She turned to leave, but Luke lunged forward and grasped her arm.
"Wait. Back up a minute."

"Would you put on some clothes!"

"Tell me the rest of it, Red. Start from the top, and tell
the truth this time."

"Don't call me 'Red.' I've always hated it."

"So who are you, really?"

She rolled her eyes in frustration, then pursed her lips and
thumped them with her index finger a moment before saying, "I was born a
poor coal miner's daughter in the Black Hills of—"

"Oh, for God's sake. You are such a brat." He grabbed
his trunks and tugged them back on.

"Forget about it, Luke. Just go fishing."

"I will. Don't worry." First, though, he wanted answers,
answers she suddenly didn't appear willing to give. Brushing past her, he
crossed to her bedroom and scooped up her purse.

"Hey," Maddie protested. "Stop it. That's
private."

He ignored her completely and dropped her keys on the table, then
a compact. When he tossed her plastic tampon case next to her keys, he saw her
cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Next Luke pulled her wallet from her purse. He flipped it open to
her driver's license. Then he opened a drawer beside the galley sink, dug out a
cell phone, and thumbed the power button. "Damned roaming charges."

"This from a man who owns a floating palace."

He held Maddie's gaze as he punched in a number, then said,
"Hey Deidre, it's Luke."

After listening a moment, he replied, "Fine. It was nice. No,
Terry would understand why you couldn't make it. He loved your kids."

He paused again, grinning at Deidre's mention of Terry's horrible
singing voice, then said, "You're right. I swore the whisky glasses were
gonna break last time I heard him sing 'The Yellow Rose of Texas.' Listen, I
need a favor. See what your system pulls up on a..." He read her name and
address off the license, then added, "Yeah, I'll hang on."

"Fine," Maddie snapped. "Be a show-off. Use your
connections to ferret out every last kernel of information about me. Then what
are you going to do? You promised you wouldn't cause me trouble. Will you break
your word? Sworn on Knucklehead's life, I might remind you?"

Actually, he'd dodged that particular promise, but Luke doubted
she'd see it that way.

"Or will you delay your fishing trip and help me? Hmm?"
She folded her arms. "Men. What's that saying? Can't count on them, can't
shoot them?"

Deidre came back on the phone and began relaying salient facts
about Maddie's record. Hmm... looked like she'd told the truth. So far, anyway.
Luke grabbed a pen and made a note of the name and phone number of Maddie's
parole officer.

Maddie watched him write the name Jennifer Thompson and winced. A
nerve there. She obviously didn't want him talking to the woman. What else was
she hiding?

"May I remind you that you're not official anymore, Mr.
Callahan? My parole officer doesn't have to speak to you. Surely I have some
privacy rights."

"Thanks, Deidre. Yeah, you, too. Bye." Luke stared her
straight in the eyes as he set the phone on the table. "What did Branch
Callahan say when you told him you got busted for dope? He about split a gasket
when he caught Matt smoking a joint when he was a high school freshman."

Calmly, quietly, Maddie said, "I've already told you what
happened. Believe what you want. Your kind always do. Now, if you'll excuse me,
I'd like to get some sleep."

His kind? Luke wasn't about to excuse her. Though he'd tried hard
to let this whole thing go, his gut wouldn't let him. Not now, anyway.
Something about this entire business was screwy, and he by God wanted to know
what it was all about.

First she wants his help; she tells him secrets that could land
her in jail. Then, abruptly, she changes her mind and shuts up? What other
secret could she have? She had no outstanding warrants. No criminal history
except for the one arrest. She'd blamed her punishment on her identity.

They made an example of me because of who I am.

So, who was she? What was so special about Madeline Kincaid?

"You're driving me crazy, you know." He folded his arms
and leaned against the door frame just as his cell phone began to ring.

Luke checked the number. Deidre? "Hello."

The voice in his ear said, "Hey, Luke. Listen, we no sooner
hung up than I realized where I'd heard her name before."