Unlock the Truth (17 page)

Dena’s mouth opened. “Roberto. Robert? Bobby—” Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. She went to sit and the color drained from her face.

“Hell, she’s going to faint!” Zeke yelled and jumped up, catching her just as her body went limp. As he set her in an armchair, he looked around at Manny. “Get some water.”

Hell, here she was again with that Bobby thing. Who was Bobby and why was the name so damn important? He kneeled, lifted Dena’s head then slapped at her hand to waken her. “Dena. Dena wake up!”

“Here.” Manny ran back from the kitchen, slopping water out of a glass so it dampened the front of his t-shirt.

Zeke lifted Dena’s head up. “Dena, honey, can you wake up?” He shook her gently.

“She do this before,” Irma said, standing above them, and wringing her hands.

“What?” Zeke asked. “Faint…she fainted, when?” He looked up at Irma then back at Dena and watched her eyelashes flutter.

“When we clean…before, in here,” Irma said, and waved her arms about. “She not used to the heat.”

Zeke took the glass of water, and sat Dena up. She opened her eyes. “Can you take a sip?” he asked. She took a couple of deep breaths, then some water. Color came back into her cheeks.

“Sorry,” she said, and tried to sit up straighter. Her eyes widened then she paled again. Okay, so obviously she’d remembered something else Carli had told her. He stood, lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom.

“I’m okay,” Dena said, and squirmed against him. “You can put me down now.”

“I am,” Zeke said sternly. He pulled back one corner of the covers, put her on the bed and propped her head up on a couple of pillows. Then he drew the top sheet over her and folded down the duvet.

“Go get some of those electrolyte drinks from the house, Manny. I think she’s dehydrated.”

Manny looked at him, scared.

“It’s going to be okay, she’s probably had too much coffee and wine, not enough water. Go.”

Manny scratched at his chin and backed toward the bedroom door. “Okay. Um…you don’t think she should go to the E.R. do you?”

Dena frowned. “Will you guys cut it out? You’re all such drama queens—”

“Have you ever fainted before?” Zeke asked.

Dena moistened her lips and rubbed them together. “No.”

“Twice in one day—”

“It wasn’t twice.”

“Well, if you count yesterday when you were shot at that makes it three times.”

“Oh, stop it.” She sat up, tossed back the sheet.

Zeke placed the heel of one hand on the top of her chest and shoved her back. “You will lie down and behave yourself. I’m staying here tonight—”

“What?” she said, and struggled to get up again. “How will that help? Rocky will have a fit. The idea of me moving in here was—”

“Shhh,” he said, and stopped her chatter with a gentle kiss. “There’s no phone. Remember? Besides, I want to stay.”

“But I have my cell phone. And Rocky—”

“To hell with Rocky, this is my place. You are my guest.” He pressed his lips tight and scowled. “There’s nothing else to discuss.”

“Okay.”

That was odd. Dena gave in quicker than he expected. Maybe she was just exhausted. “Unless, of course, there’s something you need to tell me.”

She frowned. “Like what?”

“Like maybe you’re pregnant. They always faint in the movies when—”

“Oh, for sure.” Dena burst out laughing. “Yeah, that’s it. Hah. It’s been so long—” She narrowed her eyes and wagged a finger. “Sneaky, very sneaky, Mr. Cabrera. Good way to get a little sexual history.” She gave him a backhanded hit to the forearm.

Zeke laughed, happy that she seemed to have recovered enough to tease him. “I wasn’t. Seriously though, I’m worried.”

“Don’t be. It’s nothing. My reaction to stress, I suppose.”

Manny came in with a fruit punch flavored electrolyte drink and a glass. Zeke grabbed the bottle and poured. Dena propped herself up on the pillows and smiled weakly at Manny, then took a few sips. “Can you wait until tomorrow to discuss your job?”

He nodded. “Sure.”

“Just show up about nine and we’ll take it from there,” Dena said. “The rate will be twelve dollars an hour. I’ll need at least eight hours a day.”

“No problem.” Manny grinned, and hitched his baggy shorts up. “Okay with you, Zeke?”

“Absolutely, I’ll talk to Rocky about it. We’ll find other help for the fields.”

“Thank you. This is…fantastic,” Manny said. Irma came and stood beside him in the doorway. “I got the job, Mama.” Irma said something in Spanish. She held his face in her hands and kissed his forehead, then both cheeks. She turned and smiled at Dena.

“Okay, you two, out of here,” Zeke said. “Manny, take your mom home. We’ll see you tomorrow, and don’t worry about Dena.”

Zeke turned, watched them leave. Rocky, as far as he knew, had never called himself Robert, or Bobby. Roberto’s Rocks was just a little play on words for advertising purposes. But something about that conversation had affected Dena in a strange way. He leaned close to Dena’s ear. “I’ll turn off the fireplace, and lock up the big house, and then I’ll come back.”

She nodded, eyes closed. “Good idea.”

He eased back, steeled his gaze and his voice. “Then I’ll lock us in, and you will tell me exactly what’s going on.”

Her eyes shot open, then she blinked hard, pulled up the covers and closed her eyes tight.

Chapter Eleven

Dena awoke in the casita the next morning, stretched out in the bed, and smiled. This was the third bed she’d slept in since she’d come to the desert, and definitely the best. She lay still and listened, wondering if Zeke had stayed for the whole night.

If so, where had he slept? There was no couch.

They’d talked for an hour about his mother, the church, and the necklace. She’d told him of Carli’s mention of a guy named Bobby. “Coincidence,” he’d said, “make nothing of it. Every second Latino in the district is named Roberto.” She wondered about that now. Being a P.I. was harder work than she’d ever imagined. Maybe she’d have to stick to public relations work. Every time she came close to uncovering a clue, nothing came of it. Yet, she still felt there were answers, some kind of connection to Carli and this place.

A strong sense of guilt washed over her. Zeke had been so kind and protective last night. Yet, she hadn’t said anything about Carli being her sister. She was still lying to him and she didn’t know why. She trusted him. So why wouldn’t she just fess up?

Dena grabbed a pen and paper and started to list what few clues she’d uncovered. A loud knock sounded on the casita door. Then it repeated. It sounded like the front door would break down. She swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“Hang on,” Zeke called out.

She heard a few muffled comments and imagined him pulling his jeans on. She threw on her silk kimono and tied the belt, wondering what the commotion was all about.

With the door of the bedroom cracked, she could see Rocky’s dark angry face. His eyes swept the inside of the casita, and she ducked behind the bedroom door then took another quick peek through the crack. Deputy Stanton was behind him, in civilian clothes and wearing dark sunglasses. She opened the door a little wider and leaned forward to hear.

“Sorry,” Stanton said. “I need to talk to you, Zeke. This is…off the record…friends, you know…”

“Sure, come in.”

Dena bristled. Yesterday he was the enemy, about to drag Zeke into jail in handcuffs.

“What the hell is this?” Rocky asked, and glared at a comforter and pillow on the floor. “You slept here? Irma said that woman was down here.”

Dena stiffened in defense, and she wondered how Zeke would cope.

“Can we get some coffee going?” Zeke asked. “I just woke up.” He stretched, rubbed at the small of his back.

Dena pulled in a long breath and let it out.
Good. Change the subject
.

She might as well show her face, act natural. Well, it wouldn’t be an act because nothing happened last night between her and Zeke, other than in her imagination.

“What’s happening?” she asked, smoothing a hand over her hair and entering the main room.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing sleeping here?” Rocky blustered. He took a couple of steps toward her, his face dark with rage. He spun around and glared at Zeke. “It’s an affront, this is. It’s Isabella’s place and—”

“It’s my place,” Zeke said, his voice icy cold. He raised an open palm. “I can do anything I want with it. I can burn it to the ground if I want.”

Dena held her breath.
Good for you, Zeke
.

Rocky gasped. Stanton barely acknowledged her. He didn’t even look her up and down and she was braless in a tiny kimono. “I’ll make coffee,” she said.

She rummaged around, found the ground coffee and filters and set to work. The men were quiet for a few minutes, except for the shuffle of feet and the occasional clearing of a throat. “I’d rather—” Stanton said, with an apologetic look toward Rocky, “—talk to you alone, Zeke.”

Rocky stammered. Dena thought he was about to refuse to go.

“Leave us, Rocky,” Zeke said. “I need to have you look over some business later. We’ll meet at ten, in my office, okay?”

Rocky’s face darkened. “Sure.” He glared at Dena. “There’s a lot to discuss.” Then he stalked out.

Dena moved to the door to make sure he didn’t hang around to eavesdrop, but he was almost at the stables.

“Listen, coffee’s on,” she said. “I’ll go and shower. Leave you guys alone.”

Zeke gave a brief nod and looked at Stanton who stood just inside the front door. He still wore his dark glasses.

Dena opened the cupboard door where she’d stored a few goodies last night. “There’s cereal, fruit,” she said, then walked over, opened the fridge, and peered inside. “A couple of bagels, cold pizza, milk, preserves, and cream cheese, if anyone’s hungry.”

“The bagels and cream cheese sound good. Right, Dave?” Zeke asked.

Stanton nodded and finally walked across the room. He sat, and his round body overflowed the edges of the small bistro chair. “Dena can stay,” he mumbled.

“You’re sure?” That was a surprise. “I’m happy to leave you guys alone.”

“No. What I have to say, well, it affects us all.”

The room became still and quiet. Dread rose up her throat in a giant lump.
It concerns me, affects me?
This could only be about Carli. The coffee pot made that little gurgle, hiss and sizzle sound it makes when it’s done brewing. She swallowed a couple of times and her pulse took off like she’d just consumed the entire pot of caffeine. Damn it. She should have confessed last night to Zeke.

She tried to calm herself while she popped the bagels in the toaster. She carried everything else to the table. This is what lying got you. Having your untruths revealed when you’re unprepared
.

Her cell phone rang in the bedroom, and she recalled the problems of last night. She shoved her hair out of her eyes, and let out a frustrated sigh. “It has to be Mom, or Aunt Ruth,” she said, and hurried across the room. “I’ll tell her I’ll call back.”

“We’ll wait,” Stanton said. “Take your time.”

She grabbed her phone and hit the button to answer.

“Is this a good time, Dena?”

“Mom?” Her mother never asked that. Dena adjusted the phone to her ear and strained to hear anything from the other room. A murmur of conversation floated in. She wanted to get back out there. “I can talk for a minute, but I’m in a meeting—”

“I’m sorry,” her mother said, and sniffled.

“About what?” Dena felt her blood turn to ice. What had happened? Had they been in an accident? Was Aunt Ruth hurt?

“Last night,” her mother said. “I think…I think I said some mean things to you.”

Oh, that was all
. Nothing she hadn’t handled for the past twenty years. Dena let her breath escape. “Mom, it’s no problem, nothing to discuss—”

“But there is, Dena. I’ve always treated you mean. I don’t know why, probably because you were so smart and I felt—” She started to cry. “—you know, lacking in that department. Your father admired you.”

What the hell
? Dena looked toward the door. She tried to stay with the conversation on the phone, but her thoughts were flying every which way.

Her mother sniffled, blew her nose. “My therapist said I was jealous.” She gave a brittle laugh.

Dena swallowed hard. This was a breakthrough of sorts, but it was the wrong time.
Damn it. Why does everything have to happen all at once?

“Mom, I love you. Try not to worry or be hard on yourself. I’m in an important meeting. We’ll talk more later on. Go back to bed for a while, promise?”

“Okay. Ruthie’s still in bed.”

“Good, you two take it easy. I’ll call in a few hours.”

The smell of toasted bagels wafted toward Dena as she hurried back to the kitchen. Zeke and Stanton were in the process of slathering them with cream cheese.

Darn, there were only two and now she wanted one. She poured cereal into a bowl, added milk, and carried it to the table. It was boring, but it was food.

“Is everything okay with your mother?” Zeke asked.

“Yes. Better than okay.” At least she thought it was, but hadn’t fully processed the conversation.

“Dave, want to let us know what this visit is about?” Zeke asked.

Stanton took off his dark glasses. His eyes were red and swollen, and Dena looked away.

“Susie,” he said.

“Go on,” Zeke said.

Stanton swallowed, and his jowls moved up and down. “We were…you know, together.”

“When?” Zeke asked, and a frown creased his brow.

“The last night anyone saw her alive.”

“Where were you?”

“The Sandbar, all of us,” Stanton said, waving a cream cheese stained knife from him to Zeke and back. He blinked hard, like he was perplexed at the question.

Zeke moved forward. “You’re saying that she was murdered that night?”

“Close as we can guess. Nobody ever saw her again. And she had your jacket on when they found her body. Remember she was cold after the argument? You gave her your jacket.”