Lone Star Legacy (5 page)

The line went dead.

Beth sagged to the cold floor, the receiver still in her hand, her pulse still pounding in her ears.

From the first anonymous call, she’d desperately started searching for what he wanted, planning to turn it all over to the police—hoping that it would lead to the arrest of the man harassing her.

But there’d been nothing.

No paperwork on any mysterious bank account and no key—though she’d been through every inch of the house in Chicago twice, and had gone through all of her possessions a third time while packing for the move to Texas.

Back in Chicago, she’d reported the man’s four threatening calls, but tracing them had led to public phones all over the city. There’d been nothing to go on. Though reporting them had brought the cops back into her life again, and she’d seen the suspicion in their eyes. Then an investigator had shown up at her door—the same one who’d interrogated her after Patrick’s death—and his hard-hitting questions had shaken her even more.

What if the caller was telling the truth—and had some sort of evidence that could lead to her arrest? And what would happen to Sophie then?

Wrapping her arms around her knees, Beth closed her eyes and tried to slow her racing heart. There was so much about her husband’s secret life that she hadn’t known until the police had shown up after his funeral with a thousand questions she couldn’t begin to answer.

Oh, Patrick, what on earth did you do?

B
ETH RAPPED SOFTLY
on Anna Garcia’s front door, then entered when the day-care provider’s greeting echoed from somewhere inside.

The usual five-thirty confusion was in progress, with two other moms walking in the door just ahead of Beth to round up their children. A little boy was crying in Anna’s arms. Two girls Sophie’s age were playing with dolls, but Sophie sat alone with a book and watched them from across the room.

Beth’s heart squeezed at her daughter’s forlorn expression. Her own time at the clinic flew by, but what were those hours like for Sophie, feeling like an outsider at the age of four? After three days, she still hadn’t made any friends.

The taller mom, a slender woman in a pretty mauve sweater and matching skirt, motioned to her daughter, then turned to Beth. “We haven’t met yet. I’m Gina Carlton. I’m the principal of the elementary school over in Horseshoe Falls, so these kids will get to know me pretty well in a few years.” She nodded toward the other woman. “And this is Tracy Evans.”

Beth introduced herself to them both, but Tracy, expensively dressed in matching ivory linen slacks and a cashmere sweater, simply looked over her shoulder and sized Beth up, then turned back to her daughter.

Beth felt a pang at her cool dismissal, so much like the arrogance of her most recent neighbors in suburban Chicago. Two years ago, Patrick had insisted on buying a home in an upscale neighborhood, saying it represented all he’d ever worked for, but she’d never been comfortable with such a high mortgage or in such an affluent area.

Gina smiled warmly. “I understand you’re thinking of reopening the café.”

“Maybe. It’s turning out to be more work than I expected.”

“Well, I hope you persevere. Lone Wolf hasn’t had a nice place like that in ages. Won’t that be great, Tracy?”

The woman in ivory arched one perfect eyebrow. “Bob and I were just talking about it, actually. A lot of folks in town hope the place will be torn down.”

Beth drew in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Tracy shooed her daughter toward the front door. “No offense intended, of course, but there certainly wouldn’t be much business in a town like this, and the property is already in ruins. If I were you, I’d save myself the money and the embarrassment.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Gina murmured after the door swung shut. “She and her husband own a restaurant in Horseshoe Falls, and she’s been a know-it-all since we were in high school. I think reopening the café would be wonderful for this town. Don’t you, Anna?”

The boy in the caregiver’s arms had finally stopped whimpering. She gently settled him down next to a stack of wooden puzzles, then walked over to Beth and gave her a quick hug. “Absolutely. I know you plan on leaving at the end of the summer, but we can always hope the new owners will keep it open. And maybe,” she added with a twinkle in her eye, “you’ll even decide to stay.”

Beth glanced between Gina’s daughter and Sophie, then chose her words carefully. “I’d love to stay, but we don’t have much choice….”

Gina’s brow furrowed. “Barely here, then going so soon? This town really wants to keep nice newcomers like you.”

“I need a stable job, good enough to support us. Sophie needs a school district large enough to offer special services for preschoolers.”

“Special services?”

“She has some hearing loss. It isolates her, because kids her age either ignore her or think she’s ‘different’ and don’t accept her.”

“I didn’t realize.” Gina blew out a long sigh. “That has to be tough on her, poor thing.”

“She does fine if she can see the face of the person talking and if they speak clearly. Otherwise, she misinterprets certain words.”

“What about surgery?”

“The specialist wanted to wait a while. This happened because of an accident, and she’s showing gradual improvement. If there’s not enough change in six months, we’ll need to look at other options…so by then I’ll need a job with good benefits.”

“But in the meantime…” Gina glanced at Sophie, her eyes filled with sympathy. “You know, maybe my Olivia and Sophie can get together for some play dates. Just the two of them, where it isn’t so noisy and distracting. Do you suppose Sophie could come over on Saturday?”

The offer was more than Beth had hoped for. “I know she’d love that.”

“It might even help her feel included here, if she has a friend.” Gina gave Beth’s arm a gentle squeeze, then she dug around in her purse for a business card and handed it over. “This has my cell, home and work numbers on it, so we can figure out the details later.”

Scooping her daughter up into her arms, Gina started for the door, then turned back. “Don’t even think about what Tracy said. You reopen that café and I promise you’ll end up busier than you want to be. I must be related to half the people in this county, and I’ll pass the word.”

“Thanks!” But Tracy’s words kept coming back to her for the rest of the evening. Was it foolish to even think about trying?

“N
O
,
HE
’
S NOT MARRIED
.” Following Dorothea Wilbert’s intent stare, Beth glanced over her shoulder and saw Joel disappear into Walt’s office, where he was installing an entire wall of oak shelving for Walt’s library of veterinary books and professional journals. Anticipating the next question, she added, “And far as I know, he is not attached.”

“If I was a few years younger…” Dorothea’s eyes gleamed. “He’s quite a hottie, you know.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Beth tried to smother a smile, but failed. A
hottie?
The woman had to be eighty if she was a day and her slang was a tad out of date, but she definitely deserved points for sheer spunk.

Dorothea lifted her cat carrier from the counter and angled a look at Beth’s bare left hand. “If I were you, I’d snap him right up.”

“If I ever decide to start looking, I’ll give that some thought,” Beth retorted dryly.

At least this was a variation on an all-too-familiar theme. One week at this part-time job, and she’d already fielded questions from at least a dozen women about Joel’s marital status. Women who were interested for themselves, or who just happened to have daughters, granddaughters, or nieces who might like an introduction.

Joel tried to avoid them.

Beth found it amusing when he couldn’t.

But that interest was no surprise, really. Other than a few grizzled cowhands who’d flirted with her while stopping in at the clinic, she hadn’t seen many eligible guys around town.

A situation that suited her perfectly well.

With Walt out in the country on farm calls, the clinic was quiet this afternoon save for a handful of people who’d either stopped in to buy pet supplies, or came to collect their pets after boarding them.

Beth stretched, working out the stiffness in her muscles from last night’s siege with a wallpaper steamer, then she turned back to the bank of file drawers behind her.

Joel sauntered up the hall, a carpenter’s pencil tucked above one ear, and that gunslinger tool belt riding low on his hips. With a nod in her direction, he went outside.

What was it about him that made her pulse pick up a faster beat whenever he walked by?

He certainly wasn’t her type…and she wasn’t in the market, at any rate.

In college, she’d gravitated toward the guys with armloads of philosophy books, who talked about the meaning of life, politics or social reform. White-collar guys who were safe, responsible. Who impressed parents and promised the kind of security a smart girl wanted.

Joel had an edge. An air of darkness and danger that promised he could handle any threat that came his way. But she’d learned early on that the bad boys in school were exciting, but they were the ones who casually broke hearts and disappeared. At the age of thirty she’d not be playing that game with Joel or anyone else—especially a man who was so clearly uncomfortable around Sophie.

Luckily, she and Joel had moved past that initial suspicion of his to a fledgling level of friendship, but that was as far as Beth would ever go.

According to Walt, the man had been a cop. A chill swept through her at the thought of what he could uncover if he got a little too curious and began researching her past. What if her anonymous caller was right—and Patrick had somehow tangled her up in the paperwork on his illegal dealings? Or she’d been implicated through some false evidence, by the very person who kept calling her? And then there was that suspicious fire….

She’d been cleared once. But what if the investigators had second thoughts and looked closer?

The clinic door opened and Joel came back in with a box of wood screws and a level. But this time, he didn’t just walk on by. He strolled into the receptionist’s area and leaned a hip against her desk, his too-long hair disarrayed by the windy day; his dark, thick lashes and smoldering brown eyes entirely too sexy and compelling.

But it was the hint of a boyish twinkle in those eyes that calmed the nervous flutter in her stomach.

“Ma’am, I need a favor. A big one.”

Surprised, she gave him a glance. “If it involves sewing or ironing, you’re flat out of luck.”

The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes deepened. “What would you say about a date on Saturday night?”

I
F HE
’
D TOLD HER
the entire town was afire, she couldn’t have paled any faster, though she quickly masked her initial look of shock with a forced laugh. “I…don’t think so.”

He raised an eyebrow and grinned at her. “Dorothea would say you’re making a mistake.”

“You
heard
that?” Some color came back into her cheeks.

“Couldn’t help it. She has the voice of a revival preacher on Saturday night. Not,” he added wryly, “that I believe a thing she said.”

“Half the female population of Lone Wolf does, though.” She tipped her head and surveyed him from head to foot. “You being a mystery man from the far reaches of the U.S. and all. Most people here probably know each other from birth to death.”

“Anonymity is a good thing.”

“And speaking of that, I need some facts, so I know what to say to these people. As in, where you are from exactly, and why you came here.” She tapped a forefinger against her lips, thinking. “Oh, and what you did for a living. That’s for starters. Unless you just want the local gossips to take care of things.”

Joel felt his defenses rise, his muscles tense. “Gossips?”

She gave a delicate shrug. “People know I work here and that you’re remodeling the clinic, so they ask me. Walt said you were a cop, but I’ve heard rumors that you are an ex-CIA agent, an FBI agent, or a private investigator.”

He sighed heavily. “Detroit PD. Worked a lot of areas, though the last was homicide. I…just burned out, and needed a change.”

He’d made a career of being good at noticing small details. Reading body language. Analyzing behavior and motivation. But even a rookie couldn’t have missed the subtle shift of her position, or the brief flare of uneasiness in her eyes.

And he realized that though she’d been superficially friendly, she’d probably been even less forthcoming about her background than him—and was better at blithely skirting subtle questions, too.

“I’m sure it was a tough career,” she murmured.

“Challenging. So about Saturday—”

“Mistake. A big mistake.” She seemed to cast around for an excuse, then brightened. “Since we’re working together and all.”

“There’s a
rule?
In Walt’s clinic?”

“I’m sure there must be.” Her gaze skated away. “Or there should be.”

He tried to remember if he’d been turned down with such determination. Probably never, because he and his wife had been high school sweethearts and married young. Later, he’d lost all interest in any sort of social life after the heart-wrenching loss of their daughter, and a subsequent divorce so acrimonious that he still felt singed by Andrea’s anger and accusations.

Then he realized that he hadn’t quite made his intentions clear. “The town’s annual street dance and barbecue is Saturday night. I just thought the evening could be casual—something between friends.”

Beth’s brittle smile was tinged with disbelief. “You step out on the sidewalk, and I’ll bet some gal will swoop by and gladly help you out.”

“I am not looking for a relationship, period. The last thing I’d ever do is settle down again, but the local mommas all have hopeful young things looking for a white picket fence and commitment, and they aren’t taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

“So, say it louder.”

“And disrespect someone’s mother? I just figure bringing a date might cool down some of the interest that has come my way.”

Her hand fluttered to the thin white scar that traced a faint line from her temple to the corner of her jaw, just below her ear. “I really don’t think—”

“Just two acquaintances out for a good time, nothing more than that. Hey, we can talk business the whole time. And the more people see you around town, the more they’ll sit up and take notice when you open the café.”

“Now that,” she retorted with a dry laugh, “is a pretty far reach.”

“Whatever it takes.” And oddly enough, he realized it was true.

Walt had insisted that Joel meet him for some good Texas barbecue at the festivities, and Joel had figured it might be a good chance to learn a little more about Beth—away from the constant flow of clients in the clinic. But now, he realized just how much he enjoyed her company, and that he really
wanted
her to come along. She was smart, and witty, and—

“I’m not too sure about the dancing part,” she said solemnly.

With a start, he remembered the car accident she’d mentioned, and the way she seemed to limp by the end of the day—barely noticeable, but perhaps she tried hard to mask it. “Absolutely.”

“And just as fr—” She stumbled over the word. Her gaze skated away. “Colleagues.”

He stifled a smile. “Of course.”

“And if I can find a good babysitter for Sophie.”

“Goes without saying.”