Lonestar Homecoming (28 page)

Gracie stepped closer to her, but the woman backed away. “Please. Do not look on my face. It is not that I do not trust you, but he might make you describe me. Forget what you see. Please, say nothing to your husband. To anyone. If you do, my blood is on your hands.” Glancing outside first, the woman stepped through the doorway, and the sound of her feet running on the dirt faded.

Gracie reached for her cell phone to call Michael, then stopped. He would rush right home. And what if the woman was right—what if Cid would make sure Michael and the children were killed? She couldn't live with herself if she brought danger to the ones she loved more than life.

Her choices had brought her to this place. Now she had to run again. At least until she could get Hope to safety.The face of Gracie's father flashed into her mind. He would take in Hope.Would Cid know to look in Pecos? She'd never told him where she was from, but how hard could that be to figure out?

She rubbed her forehead where pain began to pulse.Was there no way out?

With the horses cared for, she walked back to the house and strapped the tiny gun onto her ankle. Permit or not, she was taking it. The tick of the clock on the wall in the living room was the only sound, so she flipped on the TV. A morning talk show came on, and she sat down to try to think.

What right did she have to drag Michael, Jordan, and Evan into this morass? Her choices loomed in front of her. She could stay and hope Michael could be vigilant enough to protect them all, or take Hope to safety and confront Cid. Make him see that it was over. She wanted to run and hide somewhere, but Michael was right.There was nowhere to go. She had to have faith he could protect their family.

The talk-show hostess was replaced by a reporter standing on the sidewalk in front of a modest home. Gracie listened as the newscaster reported seven people shot and killed in El Paso.

“The man and woman were beheaded,” the reporter said. “The police suspect a Mexican cartel involvement.The family had been under a death threat and were being watched by police, but the policeman was shot first, then the family.”

Nausea roiled in Gracie's stomach. “Michael can't be everywhere at once,” she whispered. “I have to fix this myself if I want to save my family.”

She flipped off the TV and went to the car. King whinnied when he saw her, and she paused before crossing the weedy yard to the corral. “Hey, King,” she whispered, rubbing his nose. He huffed into her palm.

“I don't want to leave here, but I have to.” She wiped her nose with a paper hanky, but tears clogged it again. “You'll be fine without me. Michael will take good care of you. So will the kids. And you'll forget about me.”

His dark eyes denied the statement, and he nuzzled her neck. His warm breath and horsey smell made her want to throw her arms around him and sob for the happiness that had been all too fleeting. She'd named her daughter for the hope she'd dreamed of having for the future, but it had been nothing but a mockery. She should have expected this.

She kissed King's nose, then ran back to the car.When the vehicle reached the end of the driveway, she stopped and glanced back at the house. For a brief time she'd had a home.

C
AESAR LOPED AT
M
ICHAEL'S SIDE AS HE EXITED THE TRUCK AND JOGGED
toward the Rio Grande, where Estevez waited. A vehicle had left ruts in the dirt, and Michael saw where the tracks crossed the shallow riverbed to the other side.

When he reached Estevez, he knelt and examined the ruts. “Looks like it was loaded down.”

“Probably a coyote bringing a truckload of illegals through,” Estevez said.

“Or a load of guns and ammo,” Michael said.

Estevez's lips tightened. “You sound like your brother.”

“He was right, though, wasn't he?”

“That's been the only time arms came through here.”

“That you know of.” Michael glared at his brother's former partner. “What is it with you, Estevez? You don't like me. I get it. But I've done nothing to warrant your antagonism.We're on the same side. And since you brought up my brother's name, listen: I've been thinking about what I found in the file on his death.”

“What?”

“Nothing. And that bugs me. There doesn't look to have been a real investigation into his death. It's like the incident was logged in and forgotten. He deserved better than that.”

Estevez's mouth turned grimmer. “He was my friend. I've been investigating it.”

“Then why is nothing in the file?”

“You just missed it. I personally input the evidence I've found.”

“What evidence? I went through every shred of the physical file and every bit of the electronic one.”

“Fingerprints, shell casings, a shoe. Eyewitness evidence.An informant's testimony.”

“There's none of that in the files. Check for yourself. It's all gone. Now, why would that be?”

Estevez studied Michael's face as if to gauge whether he was lying. “For real?”

“Yeah. So that tells me someone in the department scrubbed it. Which means only one of two things.”

“Blackmail or payoff,” Estevez said. He let loose with a string of profanity.

Michael felt the weight of the knowledge like a physical blow. Anyone in the department could be to blame. In fact, how could he know Estevez wasn't covering up his involvement by pointing his finger at someone else? He ran through the list of possible suspects: Estevez, Parker, Fishman. Even Pickens himself could be behind this.

“Sometimes I hate this business,” he muttered.

Estevez glanced at him. “Then why stay?”

“It's my job. It's part of who I am.”

“Not a very good reason.”

“Maybe not.”Was it reason enough anymore? He'd wearied of the constant threat of violence, the looking over his shoulder, the red tape and politics.

A movement caught Michael's attention. A woman darted from shrub to shrub, making her way toward a crossing farther down the river. “Look there,” he said, starting in that direction.

Caesar bounded ahead of him. He reached the woman before the men did and backed her up against a boulder. Every time she tried to move, he bared his teeth and hedged her away from the crossing. Michael squinted against the glare of the sun and studied her. About thirty. Hispanic.Dressed in expensive jeans and a blouse.New athletic shoes. Not your typical illegal alien.

“Where you headed?” he asked, forcing a smile into his voice.

She clutched trembling hands in front of her. “Please. Call off your dog.”

“Caesar, sit,” Michael commanded. The dog padded back to his side and lay down. “Do you have any identification?”

She shook her head and stared at the dirt.

Estevez joined them. “Why are you out here?”

“I walk.There.” She pointed across the river.

“You live over there?” Michael saw the way she continued to tremble.

Her shoulders slumped.
“Sí.”

He and Estevez exchanged glances. Their job was to stop incoming illegal aliens, not prevent them from returning to Mexico. He should have escorted her to the water and made sure she exited the country, but there was something about the way she glanced at him that aroused his curiosity. He almost thought she knew him. “What's your name?”

“It is of no matter,” she said, finally raising her head enough to show her dark eyes.Those eyes held a flare of rebellion.

“Humor me,” he said, hardening his tone.

“I will not.You cannot keep me. I am leaving.”

He caught her arm.“I could take you in as an alien with no papers. What are you doing here?”

She glared at his hand on her arm, then up into his face. “You should attend to your own business, Mr.Wayne.”

“How do you know my name?”

“It is enough that I know.Watch your wife. And her child.” She jerked, and her arm tore from his grasp.

“Wait!” He sprang after her, but Caesar collided with him and slowed him down. She crossed the rocks poking above the river's surface and reached the haven of Mexico.

“I need to go home,” he told Estevez.Without waiting for an answer, he ran for his truck.

24

G
RACIE'S FLIP-FLOPS SMACKED THE TILES IN THE SCHOOL HALL AS SHE
ran to the office. Bursting through the door, she told the receptionist she wanted to take her daughter out.The woman eyed her with suspicion, so without being asked, Gracie pulled out her ID. “Just get my daughter,” she snapped.

“Sorry, Mrs.Wayne.We have to be careful, of course.”

“Of course,” Gracie echoed. “Hurry, please.”At least the receptionist didn't question why she wanted her daughter. The woman left the office. Gracie glanced at the clock above the door. Nearly ten. She'd be to her father's by one, even if she stopped to grab some food for Hope.

The door opened, and the receptionist came in with Hope, whose eyes were wide and scared. She carried her new Winnie-the-Pooh book bag.

“What's wrong, Mommy?”

“It's okay, honey,” Gracie said, running her hand over her daughter's silken hair. “Don't be scared. Thank you,” she said to the receptionist before taking Hope's hand and exiting the office.

“Where are we going?” Hope asked once they were in the hall.

“I have a surprise for you,” Gracie said, forcing a smile. “I'm taking you to meet your grandfather.”

Hope stopped and gripped her mom's hand tighter. “I have a grandpa?”

“Yes, honey. He and I—well,we've kind of been mad at each other. But it's time we got over that. I want him to see he has the most beautiful granddaughter in the world.”

Hope's smile burst out. “I like it when you tell me I'm pretty.Am I pretty, Mommy?”

“The prettiest little girl ever born,” Gracie said. They reached Allie's car, and she buckled Hope into the back. “It's going to be a long drive,” she told her. “I brought you some coloring books and crayons and a few stories. Or you can take a nap if you like.”

“Are we going to stop and have lunch? I might get hungry. My tummy is already making noises. Our class was just getting ready to go to lunch.”

“We sure are. In about an hour, we'll stop and have something to eat.” Gracie buckled her seat belt, then pulled onto the street.

The note she'd left Michael said only that she was taking Hope and leaving, but he'd check at her dad's.Which was fine, because once she saw how her father responded to her sudden reappearance, she'd call Michael and explain better.Keeping her burning eyes on the road, she tried to convince herself this was best all the way around.

His earnest blue eyes came to mind, and she nearly turned around. How could she leave him and the children? How could she not? Staying would put them all in terrible danger. She'd seen those federal agents gunned down right in front of her. They would all be safer without her, and she had the power to protect them.

She wasn't meant to be happy. It was clear God would thwart her at every turn.And how could she blame him? Look at what she'd done with her life. Her mother was in the grave because of Gracie's selfishness. Her money was gone, with nothing to show for it. Now the man she loved would die because of her poor choices. Unless she stopped it somehow. She was done. At the bottom of life's barrel.

The road blurred, and she blinked twice to clear her vision. Self-pity wouldn't save them. In the rearview mirror, she could see Hope's beautiful eyes drooping in sleep. No sacrifice was too great for her daughter. Once she was sure her daughter was safe, she needed to find Cid and get to the bottom of his obsession. If she could convince him to make a new life without her, she'd go back to Michael and the kids.

Her pulse kicked. The woman had said Cid wanted Hope.Why?

It made no sense. If she threw herself on the mercy of an evil man, who would protect Hope? Her father was sixty years old. How could he protect a child? Her thoughts scattered like cottonwood seeds on the wind.There seemed no way out for her.

I'm here.

The words, though inaudible, hit her heart. She gasped and jerked the car to the side of the road.The pounding in her chest was only her heart, not God trying to get her attention. Or was it? “Is that you, God?” she whispered. “Are you here?”

Air, she had to have air. She ran the window down and tried to draw enough oxygen into her lungs. It was as if a horse stood on her chest, squeezing the air from her. Her eyes burned, then tears slid down her cheeks. She was tired, so tired, of dealing with her shame. Could God really forgive her? The reality sank in with a gentle breeze through the window.

He'd never left her. She was the one who left him. He was waiting in the same place where she'd turned and walked away.The tears came faster now, obscuring her vision, clogging her throat.The steering wheel was her only support, and she collapsed against it.

“I want to move back to you. Show me how,” she choked out. Though she lay still against the wheel, her head spun, faster and faster, as though she sailed through time and space. Gradually, her panting stilled, her pulse slowed, her vision cleared.Warmth enveloped her as though someone held her in his arms, safer than she'd ever been.

God was here, right here
. Closing her eyes, she unburdened herself on the Lord. All the vile, selfish things she'd done over the past years flooded into her memory, and she confessed them all.With each one behind her, it was as though she floated higher and higher above the seat grounding her in place.When she opened her eyes, she was clean. And she couldn't stop smiling.

Returning to God had been so easy.Why had she turned it into a mountain when it was only a groundhog hill? Clean. She was clean.The shame, the knowledge of how she'd disappointed God,was washed away. God had never let go of her, though she'd ignored his gentle promptings. There was only one more person whose pardon she had to seek.