Against the Odds (27 page)

He’d known the family since they were kids, knew all about the
old lady’s allergy to nuts. Knew Florence babysat for Sill and that the two
women had a standing Tuesday lunch date at Pete’s Café. Had for the past three
or four years.

All he’d had to do was threaten to bring the ICE boys down on
one of the illegals working in the kitchen, then sweeten the deal with a crisp
hundred-dollar bill. He’d given the guy a bag of finely ground peanuts and told
him to sprinkle them in whatever Mrs. Eckhart ordered. The guy knew who she was
and reluctantly agreed.

Sitting on his motorcycle out of sight behind the van, Henry
smiled as he watched Justice and Rina climb into the rental car. The idea had
been sheer genius if he did say so himself. Lure the little bitch to Uvalde and
get rid of her. Do what the rest of the dumbasses had tried to do and
failed.

He’d done old Walt Eckhart without a hitch right here in
Uvalde. Bob had known his dad would be coming home for Christmas, the way he
always did. The hit-and-run had played out perfectly. The hell of it was by the
time the old man was dead, the prick had changed the will.

Henry had no intention of killing the old woman. Whenever he’d
hung around the house with the other kids, Mrs. Eckhart had always been nice to
him. But a night in the hospital was no big deal.

Henry watched the small rented Nissan pull out of the hospital
parking lot and started the engine on his motorcycle. He hadn’t ridden his
Yamaha dirt bike in years, just left it sitting in his garage in Houston. But it
still ran good and it would do the job.

So far, he’d had things pretty well figured. Rina was keeping
Justice happy in bed. In return he was playing bodyguard. Henry figured as long
as she kept putting out, the guy would fly her anywhere she wanted to go. It was
a no-brainer he’d bring her here to see her ailing mom.

Henry waited till the car disappeared into the darkness, gunned
the engine and roared after them. This time, he’d finish the job. And once
again, there’d be no goddamn way to trace anything back to him or anyone
else.

Twenty-Nine

B
y the time they left the hospital,
darkness had settled over the flat Texas landscape. The air was quiet, no hint
of a breeze. Still thinking about Sabrina and the way he planned to take her
mind off her worries, Alex checked the rearview mirror for any sign of trouble.
No other cars on the road, just a single headlight in the distance.

He checked again as they rolled along, saw a motorcycle moving
up fast. He expected the bike to pass on the left and go around, but instead, at
the last minute, the driver swerved to the right and roared up on the passenger
side of the car.

“Get down!” Alex shouted, shoving Sabrina’s head down an
instant before the glass on her side of the car exploded. The next instant, he
felt the jolt of a bullet slamming into his side.

“Alex!” Sabrina cried.

“Stay down!” Jamming his foot hard on the gas, the little SUV
shot forward after the motorcycle. His side was burning. He could feel the blood
seeping into his shirt as he jerked his .45 out of its holster and ratcheted
back the slide.

“You’re bleeding!” Sabrina cried. “What are you doing!”

He clenched his jaw. “I’m ending this.”

He was almost on top of the motorcycle, an older model dirt
bike, the rider crouched low over the handlebars. Moving fast, just inches from
the rear fender. Then the bastard swerved and shot out into the desert.

Alex didn’t slow, just cranked the wheel to the right and flew
off the paved road after him. The SUV jolted over the hard-packed earth,
throwing him against his seat belt, then slid sideways, the wheels spinning in
an area of sandy soil. Alex corrected, throwing up a wall of dirt and dust as
they rocketed out into the desert after the bike.

He heard Sabrina dialing 911, filling the dispatcher in on
where they were and what was happening. “We need an ambulance! Hurry!”

Her eyes flashed toward him and she must have seen the blood
dripping onto his seat. “Oh, my God, you have to stop! You need help!”

Alex just kept driving, swerving to avoid a deep ravine then
slamming down on the gas pedal again. In the twin beams of the headlights, the
motorcycle hit a pothole and the front wheel wobbled, forcing the driver to slow
as he fought to regain control. Alex hit the pothole at sixty miles an hour, the
wheels lifting off the ground, then slamming back to earth.

The car surged ahead, gaining on the bike, which was revved
full-tilt, trying to reach its former speed. Alex was right on top of him.

The driver tried to evade, but Alex stayed with him. Catching
up to him again, he rammed the back of the bike, once, twice, determined to
force the driver to stop. The third time, the machine went airborne, careening
end over end, the driver flying off the seat into the air. The bike landed in
the middle of a spiny cactus. The driver’s body hit the ground, rolled a couple
of times and came to a stop at the base of a mesquite tree.

Slamming on the brakes, the SUV sliding, Alex leaped out of the
car. “Stay inside!” Weapon in hand, he charged toward the man lying faceup in
the dirt, illuminated clearly by the rental car headlights.

Alex prayed to God the bastard wasn’t dead.

A wave of dizziness hit him. He was losing too much blood. He
hoped to hell the ambulance was on its way. Kneeling in the dirt next to the
driver, he checked for weapons, saw none, figured the shooter’s pistol was
somewhere out in the desert.

One of the man’s legs was bent at an odd angle and so was a
hand, his wrist clearly broken. He made no move but he was breathing. Once Alex
was sure he was unconscious, he pulled the chin strap and lifted off the
helmet.

Late thirties. Dull brown hair. Unshaven face and heavily
weathered skin. Between the first and second digit of the guy’s right hand, he
noticed the telltale nicotine marks of a smoker.

He heard footsteps running toward him, saw Sabrina kneeling
beside him. She was shaking as she caught his shoulders, leaned over him.

“Oh, God, Alex, where are you hit?”

“Side,” he grunted. “I can’t tell how bad it is.”

She took a deep breath, released it slowly. “Take your shirt
off. Here, let me help you.”

He didn’t argue as she gently helped him unbutton and slip out
of the shirt, then stuffed it against the wound and held it there to stop the
bleeding.

“Just hang on, okay? They’re coming. I hear sirens. I told them
where we turned off the road and about how far we’ve driven. I hope they can see
the headlights.”

He managed a smile. “You did good.”

For the first time, she turned toward the man lying in the dirt
in front of the headlights. “Oh, my God, it’s Henry Mullins.”

“You know him?”

“Yes...he’s...he’s a longtime family friend. He’s older than I
am.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “He went to school with my
cousins.”

In that moment, it all fell together. Alex’s mouth edged up. “I
guess we found our link.” He tried to stand but a second wave of dizziness hit
him and he wavered. He heard Sabrina scream as he collapsed face-first into the
sand.

* * *

Rina sat at Alex’s bedside at Uvalde Memorial Hospital.
He was recovering well from the gunshot wound he had suffered. According to the
doctors, the bullet hit a rib and bounced off, cracking the rib and tearing
through muscle and skin, but doing no damage to any internal organs.

He’d been extremely lucky. Still, he had lost a great deal of
blood.

Rina glanced down to where he lay sleeping and her heart
squeezed. She could have lost him. Guilt slid through her. The mine and the
money weren’t worth Alex’s life. She should have given it up when all of this
started.

Her eyes filled. She brushed at the wetness with the tips of
her fingers.

“Hey...” Alex said softly, and she realized he was awake and
watching her. “Those tears for me?”

She reached for a Kleenex, blew her nose, then took hold of his
hand. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him, that nothing was worth more
to her than he was. But Alex wouldn’t want to hear the words. Instead she said,
“You could have been killed.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “I
wasn’t. And from what the police are saying, there’s a good chance we’ve found
your uncle’s killer.”

She managed a wobbly smile. In that way, maybe it had been
worth it. “They’re pretty sure it was Henry. The van they found was brown but it
was white before it was painted. They found some fairly recent bodywork on the
front and there were still traces of blood in some of the crevices on the
bumper. They aren’t sure they can match the DNA to Walter, but they’re
trying.”

“Maybe they’ll be able to get Henry to confess. He’s in deep
shit and once he wakes up, he’ll know it. Texas has the death penalty and your
uncle’s murder was as premeditated as it gets. If he confesses to the murder and
rolls over on the cousins, he might be able to make a deal.”

The police had found the van parked near the hospital parking
lot, apparently the vehicle Henry had used to transport his motorcycle from
Houston to Uvalde. His plan had very nearly worked.

“How’s he doing?” Alex asked.

“He’s still unconscious. They don’t know for sure when he’s
going to wake up, but they’re optimistic.”

“You said he was a family friend. Not much of a friend to
you.”

“Henry never liked me. He said I was
uppity.
That’s what he called me. Said I thought I was too good for
the rest of them.” She leaned down and gently kissed his lips. “How are you
feeling?”

“Grouchy.” But he was smiling, his dimples showing, tugging at
her heartstrings. “I want out of here. How about putting in a good word for me?
Get me out early?”

She just shook her head. “No way. They’re releasing you
tomorrow. I’m not about to intervene. You lost a lot of blood. You need to rest
and recover your strength.”

He made a grumbling sound. “I ask you for one little favor and
what do I get?”

She smiled and so did he.

“Sage and Jake have been calling. Trace and Maggie, too. Oh,
and Annie called. So did Ben. They’ve all been worried. Jake and Sage wanted to
drive down, but I told them you’d be getting out sometime tomorrow.”

“They’re good friends.”

“Yes, they are.”

“You able to get your mother home and settled?”

Her mother had been released yesterday. At Alex’s insistence,
Sabrina had declined Priscilla’s offer to help and taken her mother home
herself. An investigation was ongoing into this latest attempt on Sabrina’s life
and all of the cousins were under suspicion.

Sabrina’s heart pinched. Her mother hadn’t taken the news very
well.

“I just can’t believe it,” Florence had said from her place
beneath a light throw blanket on the sofa in her living room. “Henry always
seemed so nice.” She took a sip of the sweet tea Rina had made for her. “Your
Alex thinks this all has something to do with Walter and the mine?”

“The police think Henry might have killed him, Mom.”

Her eyes widened. She took a shaky breath, shook her head. “I
don’t understand any of this. Why would Henry kill Walter?”

“Because the mine Uncle Walter left me turned out to be worth a
lot of money. If I die, Walter’s kids are next in line. Henry was a friend of
theirs.”

“Henry was Bob’s best friend in high school.”

“I know.”

Her mother closed her eyes. “You think Bob and Henry made some
kind of deal to kill you and get the mine?”

“It looks that way. Though no one knows for sure which of them
it might be.”
Or if all of them were involved.

“Oh, honey, I feel so guilty for making you come here and
putting you in danger. And that sweet man of yours is in the hospital...I still
just can’t believe it.”

That sweet man of yours.
The words
cut like a knife. Alex didn’t belong to her and once this was over, their
relationship would be over, as well.

Today, as she sat beside his bed, Alex still holding her hand,
Sabrina pushed the thought away. Even now the police were questioning her
cousins. She believed they would find out the truth.

Alex’s voice drew her back to the moment. “Hey, baby... Where’d
you go? I’m right here beside you.”

She looked into his dear, handsome face, her heart beating
softy. “I’m sorry. Mom’s doing great, completely back to normal. She likes
having me stay with her. I was just thinking...going over everything that’s
happened.”

He squeezed her hand. “It’s almost over. If we get lucky, Henry
will come out of his coma, turn state’s evidence and roll over on whoever’s
behind the attacks. I think he was the linchpin, the cousins’ go-to guy. With
him out of the picture, you should be a whole lot safer.”

Still, until an arrest was made, Rina and her mother were under
twenty-four-hour police protection. This was Uvalde. Everyone knew and loved
Florence Eckhart. Sabrina was her daughter. It didn’t matter that she’d moved
away. The town took care of its own.

She looked over at Alex, saw that he had fallen asleep but
didn’t let go of his hand. She loved him so much. He was the best man she had
ever known and until he walked away, she belonged to him, body and soul.

Sabrina ignored the painful squeezing of her heart that told
her how much it was going to hurt when she lost him.

* * *

They were back in Houston. Alex’s side hurt like bloody
hell, but he was healing. He and Sabrina were alive, and the police were making
progress on the case.

They had interviewed each of the cousins. So far none had
admitted any involvement in Walter’s death or the attempts on Sabrina’s life,
but the police were leaning heavily toward cousin Bob. And all three of them
were now aware that if anything happened to Sabrina, they’d be arrested for
murder.

Alex had no doubt Bob and his siblings were shaking in their
boots.

Sabrina was probably safe, but still, he was determined not to
let her move back into her apartment. She’d argued a little, not as strongly as
he’d figured, but he’d convinced her to stay with him at his house until Henry
awakened from his coma. Even if that never happened, the police were working day
and night to track down calls and any communication between the cousins and
Henry Mullins.

Seated at his desk in the Atlas office, catching up on his
email and messages, Alex glanced across to where Sabrina sat behind a computer
at one of the empty desks doing the same thing. He was trying to keep her busy
and out of trouble until the cops could get all the evidence they needed to nail
down their case.

In the meantime, he was working to locate Edward Bagley.
Shoving away from his desk, he winced at the jolt of pain that shot up from his
injured side and walked toward Sol’s office for his second morning update.

He knocked on the door frame, then walked in. “Hey, Sol, sorry
to bug you again. Anything new?”

“No problem. Just be somebody else if it wasn’t you.”

“Where are we?”

“I’ve gone over every possible combination of names that Bagley
might own property under. I’ve checked his banking records, looked for monthly
payments on a mortgage or trust deed. I got zip. I also tried looking at some of
his friends to see if maybe they were somehow helping him. Still zip.”

“What about his parents? His mother’s dead, but his dad’s still
alive.”

“Near as I could find out, he and his dad haven’t communicated
for years. His dad was a real loser. Maybe even abusive. Could be how Bagley got
so fucked-up in the first place.”

Alex blew out a frustrated breath. “So we’re whistling in the
wind.”

“I did find something interesting. Found a reference to a
hospital stay by Bagley’s mother a few years before he was born. Turns out, the
guy’s got a half brother. His mom gave the kid up for adoption before she
married Bagley’s dad. I don’t know if Bagley even knows he exists. The records
were buried pretty deep. I had to hack—”