Читать книгу Cold Case Connection - Dana Mentink - Страница 15

Helen refused a trip to the hospital. “It’s a bump, that’s all.” And she declined to be persuaded to sleep at the ranch house. “I have to get back to the lodge. We’ve got a big group checking in in the morning, fifty cattlemen and women here for a convention.”

She accepted hugs and kisses from a worried Gus and Ginny, and the promise that Farraday would process the cottage for evidence as soon as he finished with their statements. Chad walked her to her vehicle. She pretended not to notice Sergio trailing behind them, but his proximity made her senses prickle.

He’d become a private investigator, apparently, in the nearly three years since the funeral, and now he thought he was ready to solve his sister’s murder.

Trish. Proof.

Find out who still has theirs.

Helen had noticed Fiona was distracted during her visit, but she assumed it was the responsibility of being a new mom. Helen had been knee-deep in responsibility herself at that time, having recently taken over the job as manager of the luxurious Roughwater Lodge. The town and lodge were bustling with people visiting the area for a horse show and competition. The morning of Fiona’s death they were supposed to meet for coffee in town, but a broken water heater required Helen’s attention and she’d postponed.

No prob, Fiona had messaged. Tell you about it later.

She hadn’t even read the message until hours later, after Fiona had already been killed.

She realized they were at her van when Chad politely cleared his throat. Chad was a man of very few words, but she knew he wanted to be sure she was okay.

“Uh... I wondered if, you know, I should tell Liam,” Chad said.

Her brother, the overprotective former Green Beret, would go bananas and Helen couldn’t allow it. He and his new wife Maggie were in Tahiti, celebrating their marriage. Liam was happy for the first time in a very long while, in spite of the condition which was gradually stripping away his hearing. Ever since they were children, Liam had made Helen his number-one priority. It was time for him to do that for his new wife. She fixed Chad with her sternest look. “Don’t you dare tell him.”

Chad looked as though he’d swallowed something prickly. “Don’t like secrets.”

“I’ll explain it all when he gets back. Promise.”

Chad arched an eyebrow. “Gonna skin us both for keeping things from him.”

She smiled and hugged the man who was as much her brother as if they had grown up together. “I can handle Liam.”

“Not sure I can. He’s gonna have me mucking stables until I’m eighty.”

She laughed. “I promise, I will explain it all to him so he’ll understand.”

Chad’s expression remained doubtful, but he opened the van door for her anyway.

“Mind if I have a word?”

Helen tensed to find Sergio standing a respectful distance behind, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket.

Chad looked from him to her. He shot her a look that said, Just say the word and I’ll toss him off the property in a heartbeat.

They were going to have to talk privately sooner or later. She forced a smile. “It’s okay, Chad. It will just take a minute, and then I’ll drive myself back to the lodge.”

Reluctantly, he walked away a few paces toward the house, taking his time, keeping them in his peripheral vision. Her heart swelled at the family she’d found here at the ranch, a family she would do anything to protect.

Like you failed to do with Fiona?

She blinked the thoughts away and faced Sergio, searching for a way to make normal conversation. “How... I mean, where are you staying?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Got us a hotel suite, me and the girls and Miss Betty. That’s their nanny.”

The girls. Her breath caught. “They must be almost three now.”

“Their birthday is coming up.” His mouth worked for a moment. “Gotta...plan something, I guess. Preschool birthday parties aren’t in my wheelhouse. Anyway, I need a better place. Hotel isn’t comfortable for them and I’m sleeping on a rollaway which is about six inches too short. We need three rooms. I thought the lodge might suit, if you have vacancies.”

The lodge? He wanted to stay at the lodge? “I...” Stop stumbling around it. She squared her shoulders. “I wouldn’t think you’d want to stay there, at my place, frankly, since you blame me for Fiona’s death.”

His lips twitched. “I know you loved my sister and I know you didn’t want harm to come to her, but yes, I blame you for letting her down.”

Helen felt it like a slap, and the pain settled down into the reservoir of guilt she always carried around. “If it makes you feel better, I blame myself too, every day,” she said quietly.

Silence swelled between them like a billowing cloud of smoke.

Sergio looked up toward the concealed moon and exhaled long and slow.

“How did you know I went to the police?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Not important. But in my mind, it’s plenty to reopen an investigation. Could be you rattled someone’s cage and they’re nervous, looking for something Fiona might have left behind. Maybe they decided to destroy the cottage rather than risk you finding something else.”

“Chief Farraday didn’t see it that way.”

“I get that sense. I’m going to stay until I bust the guy who killed Fiona, providing I can find a comfortable place for my girls.”

My girls.

He continued. “We have a home in San Diego, nice enough, and Betty’s incredible, but I don’t want to be away from them for too long. Laurel is pretty self-confident, but Lucy gets anxious when I’m away. She won’t eat properly and she cries.”

Helen struggled for control at the reminder. Lucy. Fiona had given her daughter Helen’s middle name. “I have a cabin,” she said promptly. “It’s away from the main house, not as many amenities, but it has three bedrooms, two bathrooms and a little kitchen. I was keeping it vacant for the painters to come in. You can stay there, you and the girls and Betty.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll pay whatever you ask.”

“No need...”

“Yes, there is. We pay our own way,” Sergio said quickly. She didn’t miss the bitterness. “We’re not taking anything from you.”

Not taking anything from the woman who let his sister die.

I blame you for letting her down.

All right. If that’s what needed to happen to help Fiona’s little girls, she’d have to find a way to live with Sergio staying on the property. Exhaustion throbbed through her along with the pain in her forehead.

Lord, help me do what’s right here.

She wished it did not involve Sergio Ross.

Sergio prepared the cabin as best he could for the girls. It was too late in the evening to move them. Betty told him over the phone that she’d finally gotten them to sleep and unless he wanted to see an epic temper tantrum thrown by a sixty-five-year-old woman, he would not be disturbing them this evening. As always, he deferred to her. Betty was a tell-it-like-it is, gray-haired, jewelry-obsessed, Sudoku-playing gift from God. He would have collapsed under the weight of his own parenting failures without her.

The cabin was small, and it warmed nicely when he flicked on the heater. Helen had sent over a housekeeper to put clean linens on the beds, and she refreshed the kitchen supply of coffee and snacks, including the fishy crackers the girls never got tired of. How had she known to include those? It wasn’t until the housekeeper left that he saw the two coloring books with chunky crayons on the coffee table. A thoughtful gesture.

Helen had always been thoughtful, quiet, he remembered from the times she’d visited their cramped house in Driftwood during his senior year. He had to admit she’d grown into a beauty. There was something classy about Helen that made her a perfect fit to run a luxury lodge, right down to the barest hint of a lush Southern drawl in her voice. Antsy, he strolled to the window.

Their cabin was set out on a wide grassy area, shrouded with dripping oak trees and near a small fenced paddock where several horses stood silent sentry under the lean-to. They were there, no doubt, for guests to explore the riding trails that crisscrossed the wooded property. Sergio had spent many summers working as a wilderness guide and he missed those days in the saddle. He had a sudden warmth in his chest when he considered that maybe he could teach the girls to ride.

Would Fiona have wanted that? It was the question that constantly paralyzed him. She was ultracautious with their safety when they were infants, at least in the few times he’d visited after their birth. Even though they weren’t crawling, she’d stopped up the outlets with plug protectors and dug up all the plants in the yard that might be poisonous. She’d treated them like fragile eggs that could be damaged at any time. But surely she would have wanted them to have experiences as they grew. Not to be cloistered, Bubble Wrapped against life. He frowned. Or was he trying to persuade himself because of his own thrill-seeking bent? He was a wanderer. He felt a hot flash of guilt. The girls had transformed his heart and he would die for them, but sometimes he could not help but miss his old life.

Restless, he went to the kitchen for a bottle of water. It was late, after midnight, but his thoughts refused to be wrangled. He spotted a Bible on the table and his gut twisted further. One thing he knew for certain was that Fiona wanted her daughters to love God and trust Him as their ultimate security. And how was he supposed to teach them that when God had saddled them with an uncle who had to watch YouTube videos even to figure out how to braid their hair?

On the prickly heels of those musings, he flopped down on the sofa and flung an arm over his eyes. One day at a time, he told himself. He held on to one phrase his mother told him on a regular basis. Remember that God loves the girls more than you ever could. God sure had a funny way of showing it.

He awakened some hours later. His cell told him it was four thirty, still well before sunup. It took him a moment to recall where he was until he heard a soft whinny. He sat up, blinking, and pulled aside the curtain. The storm had passed, and the moonlight lent enough glow for him to see someone out in the paddock saddling a horse. Even in the dim light he recognized Helen’s slim figure, though her hair was down instead of twisted into its normal chignon, and she wore jeans and a warm jacket.

He rechecked the time to see if he’d been mistaken. Not even sunup and she was heading out on a ride? That seemed odd, especially when she’d spoken about a large group checking in. Letting himself out of the cabin he approached quietly, coming close enough that he could hear her murmuring sweetly to the horse.

“Early morning ride?”

She jumped and squealed, one hand on the reins, the other over her heart. “You scared me.”

“Sorry. Just wondered where you were going so early.”

She cocked her head, the moonlight bathing her skin in pearl. “Just out for some air.”

“Where?”

She didn’t answer for a moment. “Is that your business?”

“Nope, but I’m wondering anyway. Fiona always said I was nosy.”

A flicker of a smile crossed her lips. “I wanted to see something, is all.”

“What?”

“Your sister was right, you are nosy.” She huffed out a breath which misted in the cold. “The tunnels. Fiona asked me what I remembered about...about the night Trish died. We’d planned to ride out there, were going to talk about it at coffee but...” She broke off.

“You didn’t because she was killed.”

Helen’s mouth trembled, or perhaps it was the trick of the moonlight. He shifted. “So you’re going to ride out there to see if anything comes back to you?”

“Basically, yes.”

“All by yourself?”

“I have to be back here in a few hours. It’s now or never.”

“I’ll go with you.” He strode toward the tack shed and helped himself to a saddle, outfitting the big gelding that he figured could handle his six foot two easily enough.

“I don’t...”

“Want me to go?” He climbed into the saddle. “Going to follow you one way or the other so we might as well get at it.”

“This is a waste of time. There’s nothing there in those tunnels after all these years.”

“If my sister was interested, it’s not a waste of time. Let’s go. You’ve got a group of cattlemen to check in, remember?”

Helen climbed easily into the saddle, though she looked anything but calm. They set off at a brisk pace, and he followed her lead. She obviously knew the area well and she was an excellent horsewoman, adjusting smoothly to the mare’s movements. The trail bisected the lodge property until it pitched sharply upward, the ground becoming rocky and thick with oak and eucalyptus. In spite of the circumstances, he found himself enjoying the ride, the joy of being outside, moving freely, and, though he didn’t want to admit it, a break from the constant worry over a certain pair of adorable twin girls. The farther they progressed under the dripping trees, the more the tense coil inside him began to relax.

When they emerged at a granite outcropping, he glimpsed the sea in the distance, waves glimmering pewter in the predawn hours. He soaked in the wide expanse of God-breathed beauty.

“There,” she said, interrupting his thoughts, pointing to a hillock he hadn’t even noticed. It was peppered with hunks of granite but when he looked closer he could detect the outline of an opening, bordered in rotting wood. A sign that said Danger, Keep Out was wired to a sturdy metal grate.

“The perfect high school hangout,” Sergio said. He wished he hadn’t, when he caught the stark emotion on her face. This wasn’t a place she wanted to come; it was a place where her childhood innocence had died along with her friend. “Uh, sorry. Bad joke.” Really bad.

She didn’t reply as they tied the horses to a limb and crossed the wet grass. Still silent, he thought she wouldn’t speak at all until she shivered, her words sounding hollow, as if she’d been sucked back into that long-ago day.

“It was all supposed to be such fun. The abandoned tunnels were the coolest place to explore. They were originally used to haul ore from the mines down to the docks and onto the waiting ships. We’d looked around a bit before, but that night, we were going to have a competition, to see who could find their way out and meet up again by midnight.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It was just a silly game.”

“You and Fiona, Gavin and Justin, and Trish.”

Helen nodded. “It was going to be a fun night. Trish had gone out on a few dates with Gavin, and we thought he was going to ask her to prom in the tunnels. Trish told us she’d seen a brochure for a tuxedo place in his backpack.”

“And Justin? Did he have a girlfriend? Fiona? You maybe?”

She blushed and shook her head. “We were just friends. Justin was always the cutup, the funny guy. He liked Trish, too, but he didn’t pursue her.”

“That you know of.”

“Yes.” Her mind was far away, back in those tunnels. She was shivering in earnest now, and he’d started to shrug off his jacket to drape it over her when a motor rumbled through the night. They whirled to see a light bearing down on them from the hilltop, a man on some sort of vehicle.

“Sergio...” Helen started. She’d not gotten the next word out before a spray of bullets erupted around them.