Читать книгу Cowboy Cavalry - Alice Sharpe - Страница 12

Chapter Three

As the luxury car ate up the miles, Kate didn’t have the slightest idea what to say to the man behind the wheel. He’d offered her his untouched coffee but she’d declined—she didn’t drink coffee anymore. The nerves that had taken up residence when this situation began made almost everything taste like dirty dishwater and sit uncomfortably in her stomach.

He seemed as willing to let the miles pass in silence as she was but probably not for the same reasons. Yesterday, sitting outside with the breeze ruffling their hair and the sound of seagulls mingling with the chatter of other diners, Frankie’s energy and charisma had been hard enough to handle but not as over-the-top scary as now.

She took a deep breath that didn’t help as the subtle scent of his aftershave wafted into her nose. She was aware of his hands on the wheel, his long fingers almost graceful. Her hands looked more like work hands than his did and she squashed the urge to sit on them.

“You’re very quiet,” he said, glancing at her. His dark lashes coupled with his grayish eyes made his gaze so intense her cheeks felt hot. That’s what a guilty conscience could do to a person.

“Just tired,” she said and that was the truth. After deciding to scrap this adventure, she’d tackled that stack of bills and reality had settled once again on her shoulders. She needed money and quite a bit of it if she was to keep Gram safe. She couldn’t afford to allow fear to rule her decisions. Premonitions were notoriously overrated. She’d be back in two days, tops.

She’d had to leave so early this morning to catch the bus to the airport that she hadn’t been able to say goodbye to Gram. Rose would take care of her and goodbyes never lasted in Gram’s memory for more than a few seconds anyway, but it added to the unease churning Kate’s gut. She turned her face toward the window where her pal, Mr. Sun, warmed the glass. Her eyes drifted closed.

She woke with a start, heart racing. Where was Gram? Had she gotten through the door again? Full consciousness returned with a sucker punch and she took a deep breath as she scanned her surroundings. Frankie Hastings stared at her. He’d pulled up in front of a diner and Kate’s stomach growled.

“We’ve been on the road for four hours,” he said. “We’re almost at Dave Dalton’s place. He’s the guy I told you about who’s descended from the lawyer who left town after the robbery. I’m kind of hungry and it looks like we could get a sandwich here if that’s okay with you. It isn’t fancy, but it’s convenient.”

She sat up straight. Her mouth felt like it was stuffed with old socks. She blinked a couple of times. Her wallet held about forty dollars and that had to get her back home. What she needed most and could actually afford was a free glass of water.

“I meant to remind you,” he added. “LOGO, that’s the name of Gary Dodge’s production company, intends to cover your expenses for this trip. That included the rental car that you didn’t use but is still an option when you want to return to Seattle.” He smiled at her and added, “And no, we’re not trying to buy you. I don’t imagine you come cheap.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” he said, and for once, he looked ill at ease, which strangely made her feel better.

“I am thirsty,” she said.

“Good. Let’s give this place a try.”

The diner turned out to be a far cry from the waterfront bistro of the day before. Kate ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and it actually seemed to sit okay in her stomach for once. Toward the end of the meal, Frankie took out his cell phone and studied it. “I’m reminding myself how to get to Dave Dalton’s place,” he explained.

“Do you know what it is he wants to show you?”

“Not a clue. I’m curious, of course,”

“Is he expecting me to be there, too? If it’s awkward, I can sit outside in the sun or something.”

“I doubt your being there will be an issue but no, he’s not expecting you. I arranged this meeting about a week ago, before I knew you’d be...with me.”

“Before I made trouble,” she said.

“Yeah. Listen, as long as I have my phone out, why don’t you give me your email and cell number? Phones don’t always work out at the ranch, but—”

“I don’t have email or a cell phone,” she said.

He stared at her a second as though he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard her say.

“I moved here from Arizona over a year ago,” she added. She had to give him some explanation so she went with the truth. “My grandparents didn’t have internet or the...inclination...to install it. When my tablet died, I just, well, people lived for generations without computers, right?”

“You sound like my father’s kind of girl,” he said. “He’s not big into them, either.”

She did not want to be compared to his father. “I loved my computer. I mean, you can’t get through college nowadays without...well, those days are long over. Now there are other things to keep me busy.”

“Like what?” he said.

She looked down at her hands and shrugged. “You know, work.”

“What kind of work do you do?”

She should have anticipated these questions. They were the kind almost everyone asked, she was just woefully out of practice fielding idle curiosity. Not sure why she felt the need to take the sting out of her words, she smiled. “Remember that whole I like my privacy thing?”

“Yes,” he said. “Sorry.”

She pushed herself away from the table and they both stood up. “Thank you for the sandwich and the tea,” she added. “I’m going to the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back, I know you’re anxious to get going.”

“I’ll wait for you in the car,” he said as he stood. As she watched him walk to the cash register, the strangest pang of longing came over her.

Now what was that all about?

* * *

DAVE DALTON LIVED down a tree-lined lane a mile or so outside Spokane, Washington. The road was rutted with parallel tracks. Kate had gripped the edges of her seat as Frankie did his best to stay in the ruts, but inevitably the tires found all the uneven spots. Dalton needed to grade his long, bumpy driveway.

Frankie’s gut feeling that Kate was hiding something just wouldn’t go away. Sure, she was touchy, but it had to be more than that. Touchy was understandable. She’d accepted an invitation from a virtual stranger who openly questioned her convictions. He was a little wary of her, too. But it was something more, like the way she avoided direct answers to simple questions, hiding behind the privacy thing. Still every once in a while, he caught an unguarded comment or look and it made him smile inside.

When had he last been serious about a woman? Almost a year, he realized with a start. She’d been a nurse at the urgent care center, pretty and fun-loving, full of hopes and dreams. He’d broken it off with her when she got too clingy and talk of her dreams became talk of “their” dreams, dreams he didn’t share.

Right after that, he’d started building himself a very private home even his family didn’t know about. Years before, his father had given each of his sons their choice of land on which to construct houses when and if they wanted. Frankie’s oldest brother, Gerard, had chosen a river view parcel not far upstream from the main house. He and Kinsey lived in it and would soon be joined by their baby who was due momentarily.

Next in age came Chance. He’d built himself an A-frame. His fiancée’s name was Lily and she and her small son lived on the ranch, too. Pike came next. He’d renovated a barn into a really cool house. His girlfriend, Sierra, split her time between the ranch and New York City.

Frankie knew he didn’t quite fit into his family of overachievers. It was difficult being the youngest of four brothers, all with different mothers, all very capable ranchers and businessmen. His designated title as a kid had been the screwup. And now, between one thing and another, he just liked to keep part of his life to himself, hence his secret hideaway. Half the time when his family thought he was in town carousing or causing mischief, he was actually working on his place.

So, in short, he knew a thing or two about privacy and keeping secrets, but there was only one that made him break into a cold sweat every time he thought about it. With Kate, that seemed to happen constantly. She acted like she was under a lot of stress from a lot of directions and despite how prickly she could be, he felt for her.

But right now she was hanging on to her seat and staring straight ahead as a small house finally appeared in a clearing at the end of the private road. He pulled to a stop and heard her expel a long breath.

“You okay?”

“Just glad to have that road behind me.”

“Don’t forget we still have to get back to the highway.”

“Let me enjoy walking around for a minute.” They got out of the car and she took several breaths. Some of the color started to return to her cheeks as she gazed around them.

“It’s quiet here,” she said. “And warm.” She unzipped her windbreaker and started to pull it over her head. As she raised her arms, her blouse rode up with the jacket and three inches of creamy, smooth, velvety skin appeared at the delicious curve of her waist. By the time she got the windbreaker off and tugged her clothes into place, he had looked away, alarmed at how enticing he found that tiny peek of her flesh.

The house had a small concrete slab for a front porch and a steeply pitched roof, probably because it snowed here in the winter. A trio of moldy, faded garden gnomes sat by the bushes in front of the window. Frankie knocked against the wooden door and they stood there waiting as insects droned in the tall grass.

“Are you sure he’s expecting you?” Kate asked.

“I should have texted him to confirm things. Let’s check and see if his car is here.

The detached garage shared the same shabby, spare construction as the house. A door that slid across a wide opening was slightly cracked. Frankie rolled it open enough that he could see a sleek white car so new it still had the dealer’s advertisement where the license plate would eventually go.

“Wow,” Kate said as she looked under his raised arm.

“Funny what people spend their money on, isn’t it?” Frankie said. “The house looks like it’s about to fall down while there’s a seventy-five-thousand-dollar car sitting in the garage.”

“Seventy-five thousand dollars,” Kate said, whistling. “I repeat, wow.”

“Well, he’s probably here. Let’s go knock again.”

No one came to the door this time, either. Kate walked out onto the grass opposite the front window, approached the glass cautiously and peered inside.

“See anything?” Frankie called.

“Yeah. It looks like a...” She stopped talking as her hands flew to cover her mouth and she quickly backed away from the window almost stumbling over her own feet.

“Kate! What’s wrong?” Frankie asked as he started to walk toward her.

“No, open the door. Hurry,” she cried, casting him a wild-eyed look. “Open the door.”

He turned back around and tried to twist the knob, then he rammed his shoulder against the door.

“Hurry!” Kate said.

Raising his leg, he kicked at the thing and this time the old wood creaked but it still didn’t budge. He ran to Kate’s side. “What is it?”

Her skin had drained of color. “A man,” she said. He glanced at the windows but from that distance, all he saw were their reflections. “I think he’s...he’s dead,” she mumbled.

Frankie grabbed one of the plaster garden gnomes and smashed it against the window. As glass shattered to the ground the foul odor of rotting flesh all but slammed him in the face. Kate turned her back to him, braced her hands on her knees and retched as he peered into the heavily shadowed room.

A small-framed man with sandy white hair hung from a rope attached to a rafter while an overturned stool occupied the floor under his dangling feet. From the smell and the appearance of his face, it was obvious he’d been there for quite a while.

Frankie moved to grasp Kate’s shoulders as she heaved. He tried patting her back but he didn’t say anything. What was there to say? When she had finished, she looked even more pallid than before. She accepted the clean handkerchief he offered her. “Thanks,” she whispered. “I saw a faucet by the garage. I’m going to go wash out my mouth.”

He took out his cell phone and dialed 911. What had Dave Dalton wanted to show him? It now seemed unlikely he’d ever know.

* * *

THEY SAT IN the car and waited for the sheriff’s department and an ambulance to arrive. Kate breathed through her mouth. Even with the windows rolled up, she was almost positive she could still smell the rotting corpse of that poor man. Her empty stomach clenched.

The ambulance and the sheriff’s cars came with sirens. Frankie and Kate answered a dozen questions that added almost no information that mattered one way or another. The deputy who entered the house came out looking almost as washed-out as Kate felt. He was about her age and she got the feeling this might be his first dead body.

“I can’t believe old Dave killed himself like that. Sara is going to be real broken up by this.”

“Sara?”

“His daughter.”

“Then it is Dave Dalton in there,” Frankie said.

“Yeah, though his own mother wouldn’t recognize him now. No note or nothing, either. Shame you folks had to find him.”

“Did he live alone?” Kate asked.

“Yeah. Has since Polly died ’bout five years back.”

“I’d never really met the man,” Frankie said. “In fact, I only talked to him one time and exchanged a couple of emails.” He explained about the documentary and added, “He seemed interested in showing me something. It just seems odd that he’d kill himself before he could do it.”

“What did he want to show you?”

“I have no idea.”

“You never can tell what’s going on in someone’s head,” the deputy said.

Two EMTs came out of the house rolling a body bag between them and loaded it into the ambulance. The deputy, Frankie and Kate watched with somber expressions.

“That’s a nice car in the garage,” Frankie said as the ambulance left the yard. He’d already retraced the actions they’d taken since arriving at the Dalton house.

“He’s got himself a hell of an entertainment system and a kitchen that looks like one of them that’s on a cooking show,” the deputy said. “I had no idea he had that kind of loot.” The deputy took off his hat, scratched his head and pulled it back on. “Dave’s dad died a few years back,” he added. “Dave retired about then. Maybe he inherited some money. He wasn’t exactly the chatty type.”

“I guess it’s true,” Frankie said softly. “It takes more than money to make a person happy.”

The remark hit close to home for Kate who glanced down the twisting road as the ambulance’s taillights disappeared from view.