Snow Blind-J Collins 4 (25 page)

“Some people lash out. With words or with—”

“—fists, or hangers, or whatever is handy?”

“Even that.”

255

“Bullshit.”

“Your mother’s death devastated him.”

“Please. He wasn’t the only one, but you didn’t see me whipping off my belt and using it on
him
to express my grief.”

“He would’ve taken attention of any kind from you, Julie.”

My mouth dropped open. “What the
fuck
are you babbling about?”

“Did you ever consider that he had
no one
to talk to? No clergyman. No extended family. You had Ben.

And Kevin.”

She was a fool. Dad could’ve talked to me, but instead he let his fists do the talking. And it didn’t change the fact he’d started hitting me
before
Mom died, right around the time Ben showed up, so he had Trish completely fucking snowed. Jesus. How could she be so blind when it came to him?

“Every time he looked at you, he saw her, what he’d lost, and it was almost more than he could take.”

Again, if Dad loved my mother so much, and I reminded him of her, it made even less sense that he beat me.

“In all the years we’ve been married, I’ve never heard Doug speak her name. Not once.” She expelled a bitter snort. “The great love of his life and I didn’t know her name until I ran across their marriage certificate in the safe.”

I’d never considered that; I hadn’t heard her name 256

either, not since the day I’d seen him crying as he’d repeated it over and over in absolute agony. She’d been just Mom to me. But Dad called her . . . not her real name, Annika, but a nickname . . .

Anka.

My breath stalled.

A memory floated in, an image of my father, looking up when my mother entered the room, absolute adoration in his eyes. Tugging her onto his lap as she laughed. Him peppering her face with kisses, repeating, “My Anka, my sweet, sweet Anka.” Then more kissing and mommy/daddy stuff that made me flee the room with my crayons and coloring book.

How in the hell had I forgotten that?

Because you’ve blocked out the good and the bad memories.

A sanctimonious voice countered:
Yeah? Well, it’s
his fault because the mean bastard sullied them all.

Hello, Bipolar Disorder.

Trish continued, “Your middle name is after her?”

“A shortened version.” Childish, but I couldn’t stand to hear Trish say her name. Ever. “Look, we’re off track. What is it you want from me, Trish?”

“Help in figuring out what is going on.”

“And if I don’t want to help?”

“You will.”

“Why would you think that?”

“You’re not as coldhearted as you want me and everyone else to believe.”

I squirmed. She was wrong. What would it take 257

to prove I really wasn’t like everyone else? Or anyone she knew? That I always followed my own agenda, be it good or bad?

The bell above the front door jangled and for some reason I looked up and saw Tony amble in.

Speaking of bad . . . how had he found me so fast?

Jimmer. That rat bastard. Last time I’d buy him pie.

Screw Martinez if he thought I’d cower in the corner like a Chihuahua. I kept my eyes on his and a brittle smile on my lips.

He said, “Hey, baby doll, scoot over.” Once he’d invaded my space, he kissed me. Not a sweet little peck; a real tonsil scratcher. Then he bestowed a dazzling grin upon Trish. “You must be Brittney’s mother.”

She was absolutely poleaxed. “Ah, yeah.”

“I’m Tony.”

“Ah. Hi. Tony.”

Misty plodded over with a cup. “Mr. Martinez!

Nice to see you again.”

“Good to be here, Misty. Just coffee today, thanks.”

All three hundred pounds of Misty floated off in the glow of Martinez’s megawatt smile.

Jerk.

Trish was staring at him. Half-drooling, really, which pissed me off.

Finally, she managed a small measure of composure.

258

“So, you know Brittney?”

“Heckuva card player. She’s kicked my butt in Crazy Eights a time or two when she’s been at our place.”

“Our place?” Trish repeated.

“Technically it’s Julie’s house, but I’m always there.”

I bit back my retort,
not lately
, when Tony squeezed my thigh under the table as a warning.

“Oh. I didn’t know you lived together.”

“Really? We’ve been together for what? Almost nine months?”

“Eight.”

“Time flies in a vacuum, doesn’t it? Pass me the sweetener, would ya, sugar?”

Sugar?

Martinez doctored his coffee, chatting with Trish like it was old home week. “Julie’s been reluctant to introduce the rest of her family. Which is unfair since my brothers know all about her and every crazy thing she does. She’s a real pistol.”

Oh, fuck.

Trish said, “Maybe you’d like to come over for dinner sometime?”

No no no.

“Pick the day and I guarantee we’ll be there, won’t we?”

He’d have to kill me first. And then drag my body behind his Harley.

259

Trish slipped out of the booth and zipped her parka. “Nice to meet you, Tony. I’ll be in touch soon, Julie. Thanks.”

Before Trish was out the door I hissed, “
Sugar?

Move your smarmy ass out of my way, Martinez, before I kick it.”

“Not on your fucking life, blondie. You and I are gonna have a little chat.”

“Yes, I will accept your apology along with a really expensive gift.”

“Wrong. I had an interesting morning.”

“Bully for you. Mine was the usual.”

“Shooting the fuck out of stuff isn’t
the usual
even for you.”

“No, I meant the usual, I woke up alone again.”

“Not touching the ‘alone’ comment, because tech-nically, you weren’t supposed to be alone.”

“Technically if you aren’t in
our
bed or
our
place I am alone, so try again, bucko.”

He muttered something in Spanish.

“English.”

“Fine. Let’s start when Dietz calls PT and says he’s blown the surveillance on you on the first fucking day. Then PT calls me, suggesting I haul ass to the clubhouse.

“So, Dietz rolls up in the bullet-riddled Toyota, and throws himself at my feet, begging for mercy, blubbering about my psycho old lady and your equally psycho sidekick. Meantime, my entire fucking security 260

team is practically rolling on the ground laughing,
laughing
at what you’ve done to the goddamn car.”

“Were you laughing?”

“No. Not then. Not now.”

Damn.

“Your safety isn’t something I joke about. Ever.”

“Then you shouldn’t have sent a dumb ass like Dietz to follow me. Besides, I warned you what I’d do if you sent spies after me again.”

“And now, all the Hombres know you’ll follow through on your threats. Not a bad way to get your point across. But that doesn’t change the basic fact—”

“—that you sent someone to protect me and you still won’t tell me why I need protection?”

Silent tough guy moment.

“Am I in danger?”

“You wouldn’t be if you’d let me protect you.”

“From what?”

Another no answer moment to add to the others.

“I don’t need your protection. I can take care of myself.”

We still hadn’t made eye contact.

I’d done nothing wrong, and yet, I knew I’d crack first. My fingers twisted in the chain of my necklace.

“It wasn’t my intention to make problems for you in front of your brothers.”

“Problems? Now the main problem is those brothers—mostly members of my security team—have 261

started a Julie Collins fan club. They’d rather be protecting you than me, because apparently, you’re more trouble.”

“What?”

He faced me. “I know you can take care of yourself. That’s why I’m pissed off. You take chances you shouldn’t.”

“You trying to protect me from myself?”

“Always.” He threaded his fingers through my hair and brought my mouth closer to his.

My breath quickened in anticipation of a kiss he denied me.

“Paybacks are a bitch, blondie.”

“Yeah? Bring it.”

“Let’s see if that ‘fuck you’ attitude holds after we have dinner with your dad.” He teased his lips across mine. “Don’t forget to clean your gun tonight.”

Before I responded, he slid out of the booth, handed Misty a twenty, and stormed out into the storm.

Head to the office and fight with Kevin? Go to the ranch and fight with Dad? Choices, choices.

I finished my smoke and was about to leave when Don Anderson and Dale Pendergrast stomped in.

They looked around, spied me, and—yippee! new 262

companions joined me for the third time.

“Julie, girl, how you holdin’ up?” Don asked as he sat across from me.

“All right, I guess.”

“Shore was a shock that Doug ended up in a heap-in’ pile of trouble yesterday.”

Misty brought more coffee.

Don said, “I still can’t believe he took a swing at BD.”

Dale snorted. “BD had it comin’. Actin’ all holier-than-thou, deacon of the church shit, after he’d been caught knockin’ boots with the church secretary.”

“What?”

“Big scandal, surprised you din’t hear about it,”

Don said.

Recently I’d spent way more time in bars than behind stained-glass ones. “I’m a quart low on county gossip. What’s going on?”

“You know your daddy and BD go to the same church? A month or so back, Doug stumbled on BD

and Beth McClanahan doin’ it in the vestibule.”

“No.”

“Yep.” Don leaned forward. “Doug demanded BD get tossed offa the church council. BD pulled the whole Jimmy Swaggart ‘I’ve sinned’ line of bull; told everyone if God can forgive his trespasses everyone else oughta, too. And they did.”

Stupid self-righteous religious bastards oughta swing
from the rafters themselves.

263

“Which means, BD dropped extra cash in the collection plate and got off scot-free,” Dale said slyly.

“What happened to the secretary?”

“Fired.”

“How’s that fair?” I demanded.

“It ain’t, but it was Doug’s idea she get canned.

Take it up with him.”

“So you think the fight between Dad and BD at Bevel’s had something to do with that?”

“Prolly. ’Course, it don’t help matters none that your stepmom and BD had some words a month back

’fore your daddy caught BD with his pants down.”

These guys were gossipy as old hens. I considered how I could use it to my advantage. I sighed dramatically. “That doesn’t clear up anything.”

Don’s ears perked up. “Anything we can do to help?”

Act reluctant.

I glanced around. “Promise this won’t go any further than us?”

They both nodded vigorously.

“Didn’t you guys tell me the day of Brittney’s accident that few people would be upset because Melvin was dead? You have any idea who?”

Don and Dale exchanged a look.

“My dad’s stubborn and figures if he’s done nothing wrong he doesn’t have nothing to worry about. We know the legal system doesn’t work that way.” Felt shitty to lie, but I did anyway. “Especially not in this county.”

264

“She’s got a point, Dale,” Don said.

Dale refused to meet my eyes and clammed up.

I soldiered on, hoping to shake loose the pearls of wisdom from his tongue. “Anyone could’ve put that body on the Collins Ranch. What I’d like to know is who had a reason to.”

“And if your daddy is guilty? What then?”

“Then I’ll do the right thing.”

“Even if the right thing’s already been done, but it ain’t the legal thing?” Dale asked cagily.

Did I look as confused as I felt?

Misty refilled coffee cups and coerced them each into ordering a piece of rhubarb crumble à la mode.

I gathered my stuff and handed them each a business card. “You think of anything, call me. Or stop by if I’m home. I’m not like my dad, guys. I don’t know if you think that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but it is a true thing.”

I paid for their snack and tipped Misty big, hoping it would pay off in the long run.

265

I skipped a trip to the ranch and drove to the office.

No Kevin—just a note:

Jules—tried your cell earlier, no answer. I’m going to
Pierre. Be back in a couple days. Need anything, call me
on my cell—K

Pierre? What the fuck? I tossed his file folders for new contracts or deposit slips but found nothing.

As long as I was in Kevin’s office, I used his computer. I opened the
Bear Butte County Gazette
online and scoured the obituaries for preliminary information on Melvin Canter. Survivors included his mother, Mary, and brother, Marvin. Huh. Pretty scant info.

But I knew where to look for more.

Shoes off, coffee in hand, I typed the pertinent info and waited for the machine to do the work.

266

I don’t know what I expected to turn up. Few people had endless enemies sworn to vengeance. Most fatal acts were impulsive, which didn’t bode well for my father.