Читать книгу Crossing Nevada - Jeannie Watt - Страница 12

CHAPTER FIVE

TESS’S HEAD POUNDED with a stress-induced headache by the time she turned her car into her long driveway. Realistically, what were the chances that the inquisitive ladies in the mercantile would connect her, a scarred woman with dark brown bobbed hair and horn-rimmed glasses, to photoshopped magazine ads featuring a redheaded model? Slim. Very slim.

But she still felt ill.

After putting away her few groceries, Tess tricked Mac into taking an antibiotic pill by wrapping it in cheese, then went out to the barn to put the final coat of finish on the oak table.

She swept the barn floor in the area around the table, trying not to think about the women. Trying not to obsess.

There was no breeze to stir the dust she hadn’t been able to bring up out of the rough floorboards, so Tess left the barn door rolled open. The dogs soon settled in the sun outside the door and Tess began applying the clear finish over the golden oak stain, focusing on her brushstrokes, trying to make the finish as perfect as possible.

She was in the zone, done with the top and crouched down to start a leg, when a fracas outside the barn door brought her bolt upright. A split second later Mac and Blossom shot into the barn, tumbling over each other and knocking down the garden tools leaning against the far wall in their frenzy to do...what?

The brush fell out of Tess’s hand as she stumbled backward, instinctively heading for cover—until she heard a frantic squeaking and realized the dogs were after a small animal, now hiding behind an old mower.

“Leave it alone! Foei! Zit!”

Blossom instantly fell back at the Dutch commands, which meant business, then slowly sank down onto her haunches, her sharp gaze still zeroed in on whatever had hidden behind the tools. Mac was slower to obey, but then he, too, sat with his injured leg held out slightly, as if pointing to his prey.

Tess pressed her hand to her hammering heart then walked over to gingerly pick up the brush from where it had fallen on the still tacky tabletop. The finish was ruined, marred from the brush and the dust the dogs had carried in with them in their frenzy to get whatever furry little beast had raced into the barn ahead of them.

Her fault. She should have closed the door, but this was no big deal to someone with a lot of time on her hands. She’d simply wipe it down and start over.

But Tess’s very logical assessment began to disintegrate as she stared down at the marred table. The dogs continued to hold, waiting for her to release them, and the critter, whatever it might be, stayed huddled where it was. For a brief moment everything in the barn was still, and then Tess felt tears start to well. Stupid tears that rolled down her cheeks—not because of her ruined work, but because of her still hammering heart. Because of the fear reactions she didn’t seem able to control.

Something had to give.

“Let’s go,” she said to the dogs, motioning to the door. Once the dogs were out, Tess rolled the door most of the way shut, leaving a crack big enough—she hoped—for the furry little beast to escape through.

Hands shaking, she made a cup of tea to calm her nerves and forced herself to drink it before pulling out her cell phone and calling Detective Hiller.

It took two tries and several minutes on hold before the detective answered by stating his name in a clipped tone. Tess identified herself and asked if there was any news on Eddie or the guy who slashed her. Despite the tea, her voice still shook.

“Nothing new,” he said in his usual brusque tone, indicating without saying a word that he had bigger, more urgent problems than an essentially cold case—her case—and he undoubtedly did. How many new and possibly urgent cases had he started working on since her assault? She was old news.

“Thank you,” Tess muttered flatly, ready to hang up. She hated feeling like she was bugging the hell out of him, but she had no one else. He was it.

“Hey,” he said just as she was about to say goodbye. “Is everything okay?”

Was that a grudging hint of empathy in his voice?

“No.” She blurted the word, and it felt great to say it out loud, even to this guy who obviously had better things to do than talk to her. No. Everything was not all right.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t shake the nerves,” Tess said, her voice low and intense. “I’m scared. All of the time.” She was in the middle of nowhere, as hidden away from Eddie as she could be and she still felt like a target.

The detective pulled in a breath. “Are you in contact with anyone you know? Anyone Eddie might know?”

“Just you.” She’d wanted to contact William, just to have someone to talk to, but hadn’t.

“I don’t count,” he said. “Would Eddie have any reason to suspect you’ve gone to where you are now? Any connection between the place you’re living and your past that he would know about?”

“Not much.” Did one visit when she was twelve count? Her grandmother had taken her to see a friend in Barlow Ridge, who’d long since passed away. Her younger stepbrother, Mikey, had been with them, but the stop had been part of a longer trip to Salt Lake City. It’d been a short overnight visit, but the isolation of Barlow Ridge had struck Tess, stuck with her. She’d felt so far away from her problems there. So protected from the reality of her life—not her life with her grandmother, but the reality of her mother’s life. It had been no accident that when she started to look for places to hide, she’d checked Barlow Ridge. Finding the Anderson Ranch for lease had seemed like a sign. A godsend.

“We passed through here once sixteen years ago on our way to another city,” Tess said, walking over to the window and staring out without actually seeing anything. She was too focused on Detective Hiller and his questions. His ultimate conclusion.

“No connections there?”

“No.” And still none.

“What specifically is making you nervous?”

“I’m afraid of someone recognizing me and word getting out that the slashed model lives here.” It sounded lame when she said it out loud, as if she was overestimating her importance and how much people thought about her, but the story of the slashing had made the news. Being recognized was not out of the realm of possibility—which was why she was here in the first place.

“How would they recognize you?” the detective asked. “Not to be blunt...” When wasn’t he blunt? “But I’ve seen you before and after the attack. You look nothing like your old self.”

Tess hadn’t expected the remark to sting, but it did. Her career, her looks, had given her an identity, made her more than a runaway and a survivor. She was back to being a survivor.

Tess took a moment, trying to find the words to explain why her fear of Eddie was so pervasive. Finally she settled on, “I know what a sadistic bastard Eddie is. I can’t help worrying about him finding me, because if he does...” She swallowed to keep her throat from closing, remembering how the guy who cut her face had said that Eddie would keep taking pieces off her until he got what he wanted. She reached out with her free hand to stroke Blossom. The dog leaned into her leg.

“I understand your concern,” the detective said as if he was reading a script. Not exactly reassuring.

“He’s done some awful things to people,” Tess said. She hated how defensive she sounded.

“Let’s look at this logically. Would he be able to hang out in your community without being noticed?”

“Not easily.”

“Is there a drug culture?”

Tess almost laughed. Yes. A huge cowboy drug culture. “If there is, it’s really small and private.” But she saw where he was going with this. Was there anyone who might know someone who knew someone who knew Eddie? But thinking of the people she’d met so far in Barlow Ridge...unlikely. “I don’t think there’s a bunch of trafficking through this particular community, but I don’t know about the closest town. It’s...larger.”

There was a brief silence then the detective said, “You’ve been assaulted. Your fear is normal, but my gut says the chances of your stepfather running you down are remote if everything you’ve said is true. But you have to follow your gut.”

“All right,” Tess said quietly. The detective was basically telling her that she had nothing to worry about, then adding a disclaimer in case he was wrong. Again, less than reassuring, but somehow Tess did feel reassured. A little anyway. Her fear was normal. She knew that, but it felt good having someone say it out loud.

“I’ll call if we get any new information on the case, but for right now all I can tell you is that your stepfather has made every parole meeting and as far as I know, hasn’t missed a day of work. I’ll call you if that changes or we get any new information.”

There didn’t seem much to say after the detective’s summation, so Tess simply said, “Thank you.”

“If there’s nothing else...?”

“No.”

“Then have a good day.” The line went dead before she could say goodbye.

Tess hung up the phone and then walked over to the window to stare out across the sunny fields behind her house. What the detective said made sense. Eddie really had no way to track her here. If someone recognized her, what would they do? Contact the media? It wasn’t like she was missing and the authorities were looking for her. If people thought they recognized her, they might talk among themselves. Wonder.

And maybe someone Eddie knew would get wind of it...

What were the chances? She was eight hundred miles away from Eddie.

Tess leaned forward until her forehead touched the glass. What she needed was perspective—to look at things without filtering them through the residual feelings of trauma left by the attack.

Just because she’d been a victim didn’t mean she had to remain one. All she had to do was figure out how to get a grip...and separate reality from paranoia.

She let out a breath that briefly fogged the window.

That was going to take a whole lot of practice.

* * *

ZACH WAS IN the kitchen when Beth Ann and Emma came into the house. The bills sat in a stack next to the phone, stamped and ready to go. The bank account was drained and he’d had to call Jeff, his cousin and ranching partner, to set up a time to discuss selling cows earlier than planned. He was so damned tired of hanging on by a thread.

“Lizzie and Darcy thought they saw a late calf and went to check,” Beth Ann said as she dumped two backpacks onto a kitchen chair. “And Emma has news.”

“We’re going to 4-H horse camp. Both Darcy and me this year.” Emma grinned widely before opening the fridge and pulling out the milk. She poured half a glass and then put the top back on the plastic bottle and shoved it back inside the fridge.

“We haven’t filled out the forms yet. Or paid,” Zach said, not quite certain how to take this happy news.

“We got scholarships,” Emma said. “Irv stopped by the school and told the class who’d won scholarships. It was me and Darcy and Luke.”

“Scholarships?” Zach met Beth Ann’s eyes over the top of his daughter’s head. Every year the volunteer firemen gave scholarships to various camps and the graduating seniors for college.

“Yes. This year Emma and Darcy got the scholarships. You didn’t know?”

No, he didn’t know, and he was a fireman. When had the guys decided that his family would receive the charity this year?

“Isn’t it great, Dad?” Emma said, doing a happy twirl that came close to slopping the milk out of her glass.

“Well,” Zach started before he caught Beth Ann’s eye again where he read “leave it for now.” Fine. He’d leave it, but he was going to pay for this camp. “I don’t know what Lizzie and I are going to do without you guys around for a week.”

“You’ll manage,” Emma said. “I can’t believe I get to go this year!” She skipped out of the kitchen, happy as can be, leaving Zach and Beth Ann and a whole lot of tension in the air.

“I didn’t know the girls put in for scholarships.”

“Everyone in the 4-H club puts in for a scholarship,” Beth Ann said.

“There are kids who need the money more than Emma and Darcy.”

“Can you really afford to have both of them go this year?”

He could barely afford having Darcy go alone last year. The camp, which was near Boise and associated with the university there, ended up costing almost nine hundred dollars per kid for travel, a week’s worth of food and the instructors, who were always top-notch.

“I can figure something out.”

“Damn it, Zach. What’s more important here? Your pride or both girls getting to go to camp?”

“There’s got to be a way other than charity.”

“Scholarships are not charity. They’re awarded to deserving kids, regardless of need.”

“Bull. I’ve been in on enough selection meetings that I know exactly how they’re awarded.” Because pretty much every kid in the local 4-H club was deserving. Need was the number one factor used when the firemen selected their scholarship recipients.

Darcy came in through the back door just then, smiling widely. “You have a new bull calf, but the mama isn’t going to let anyone near it. Did Emma tell you about horse camp?”

“Yes, she did.”

“Isn’t it great?” Darcy asked as she pulled her backpack out from under Lizzie’s pink one. “Now I can use the hundred dollars I saved for something else!”

“Yeah,” Zach said, forcing a smile that he hoped looked halfway genuine. “It’s good to have a windfall like that. Where’s your little sister?”

“Lizzie thought she heard something in the barn.”

“Like...what?”

“Like her imagination,” Darcy said. “I couldn’t hear anything, but you know how she loves to find baby barn cats. She’ll be in pretty soon.” She hefted her backpack and headed out of the kitchen toward the living room.

“I know you hate this, Zach, but you’re thinking about this the wrong way,” Beth Ann said once Darcy was hopefully out of hearing range.

Zach chose not to answer, because no matter how he thought about it, it stung. Maybe it wouldn’t have stung so much if he could have afforded to send both girls and this was a happy surprise, but that wasn’t what it was. His fellow firemen were giving him charity in the one way he wouldn’t be able to say no.

“Now you can use that eighteen hundred dollars for something else,” Beth Ann pointed out, echoing Darcy.

“I guess,” Zach said. Hard to argue since that money would take a bite out of the medical bills. “Staying for dinner? We’re having another slow-cooker delight.”

“No. I think I’ll head home and hit the books.” She touched his upper arm, patting lightly. Zach met her eyes. Smiled a little.

“See you later,” he said.

* * *

TESS STAYED AWAKE until daybreak. She’d read and drawn and even conducted a late-night job search. She went over and over her conversation with Detective Hiller, told herself that he was right, but as soon as it was dark outside she found herself with all the lights on, listening for anything out of the ordinary. There was no storm that night, which may have been why she could hear so much more than she had the previous few nights. Rattling windows, creaking boards. The noises of an old house, but enough to keep her on edge.

This is normal. You’ve been assaulted. Of course you’re on edge.

Why was it so damned hard to put this all into perspective? It’d been three months since she’d been slashed and she’d expected once she got out of California and deep into the wilds of Nevada that the fear would fade faster than it was.

Maybe that was part of her problem. The fear wasn’t going to simply fade away after a trauma. She had to work at overcoming it and thus far all she’d been doing was reacting to it.

Finally, after the sun came up, she let the dogs out, then crawled back into bed, meaning only to close her eyes for ten or fifteen minutes before she let the dogs back in. She woke up with a start, realizing the dogs were still outside and that somehow she’d fallen asleep.

She grabbed the clock which was facing the wall and turned it around. One-thirty?

She’d slept for eight hours straight. A record. She didn’t know whether to be happy or disturbed. She’d been unconscious, oblivious to danger for eight long hours.

But nothing had happened.

Pushing the rumpled hair back from her face, she walked into the bathroom, grimaced when she saw the crease marks on her face from sleeping so hard.

Tess pushed aside the bathroom window curtains to see the dogs sleeping in the shade under the big elm tree in the backyard, the sunlight that filtered through the branches dappling their coats as they snoozed. They looked so peaceful. Everything seemed so...dare she say it, think it? Everything seemed so normal.

And then the phone rang, scaring the bejeezus out of her.

She scooped it up on the second ring, answered it after taking a deep breath so that her voice sounded normal.

“Ms. O’Neil? We have a cancellation this afternoon at four. Could you bring your dog in then?”

Could she? Tess pushed her hair back, leaving her hand on top of her head as she calculated. Almost two. She could be ready by two-thirty. An hour’s drive to Wesley...

“Ms. O’Neil?”

“Uh, yes. I can make it.”

“Great. We’ll see you and Mac at four.”

Half an hour later, she loaded the dogs into the backseat of her car. It was the first time she’d left Barlow Ridge since arriving. The first time she’d ventured out into the world at large to risk being recognized.

But somehow getting sleep, real sleep, not her usual pattern of sleeping for half an hour and then waking, made her feel better. Stronger. Able to tackle this mission.

Or maybe the logic of Detective Hiller’s assessment had finally sunk in to the point that she could work on believing it. She didn’t care which it was as long as she could start easing herself back into a more normal existence—or as normal as it could be living in the middle of nowhere under a false name.

The vet office was easy to find and little more than an hour after she’d left the ranch she was there, sitting in the car, summoning the courage to go inside.

Tess touched her cheek, which she’d left uncovered, having decided that a white bandage caught the eye more than unsightly scars. Instead she’d worn a light blue knit cloche hat that flattened her hair down onto her cheeks, partially covering the injury, and sunglasses to hide the drooping corner of her left eye.

“Hello,” the vet tech, a young woman with a reddish-brown braid down her back, called brightly as Tess and Mac entered the waiting room.

“Hi.” Tess smiled briefly and then pushed her glasses up to the bridge of her nose as they started to slide down. There were no other people in the office, but a lot of barking in the back.

“I need you to fill this out,” the girl said, coming around the counter and handing Tess a clipboard. “New in town?” she asked before kneeling in front of Mac who obligingly held his bad leg out.

The question made Tess’s stomach knot. “I’ve been here for a while,” she said as she took the pen and started filling out the information. When she was done, the only truthful information was her phone number and Mac’s vitals. Everything else was a fabrication. Her entire life was a fabrication.

Tess brought the clipboard back to the counter just as a tall broad man with blond hair opened the door leading to the clinic. “Hey,” he said with an easy smile. “I’m Dr. Hyatt—Sam.” His eyes traveled over her injured cheek, making her stomach tighten even more, and then he focused on Mac. “What happened?”

Tess gave him a quick rundown and then the vet said, “I’ll have to x-ray.” He cocked one eyebrow as if waiting for Tess to ask a question. It took her a moment to realize he was waiting for her to ask how much an X-ray would cost.

“Whatever it takes.”

“I’ll keep the cost down as low as I can.”

“You’d never survive in Beverly Hills,” Tess said with a half smile, trying her best to act nonchalant. Normal.

“Are you from Southern Cal?” Sam asked shooting her a quick glance as he ran a hand over Mac’s head.

“No.” The word came out too quickly and sounded very much like the lie it was. Tess faked a smile. “Um, how long will this take? I have a couple errands I need to run.”

Dr. Hyatt frowned slightly before he said, “An hour. Tops.”

“Okay. Thanks. I’ll see you in an hour.”

Tess made her escape, pulling in a deep breath of crisp air as the door closed behind her. It did nothing to clear her head. She had no errands. She simply needed to get away from the vet and his cute chatty receptionist before she made more mistakes—or her stomach turned inside out from stress.

Blossom whined and nosed her cheek when she got into the car.

“I know the feeling,” Tess said, ruffling the dog’s fur before she started the car. She’d been in town for all of twenty minutes and she felt like she’d been put through an emotional wringer. So much for normal. But it was her first outing. Surely things would get easier with practice.

The town was small, about ten thousand people, and it didn’t take long to drive the length of the main street. There were the usual chain businesses and fast food establishments, as well as a few smaller stores. A Western supply store, a coffee shop, a bakery. She needed a grocery store and found one in a small strip mall at the very edge of town, where the trees disappeared and the desert began.

Tess pulled into a parking spot in front of a tiny clothing store and sat in her car for a moment, gathering strength. The dress hanging in the window in front of her caught her eye. It was simple. Stylish. Something she would have worn not that long ago. Not that long, but in some ways a lifetime.

Tess touched her cheek, hesitated for a brief moment, then pulled the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car, automatically pulling the cloche down. People walked in and out of the store as she approached, her sunglasses still on, her eyes down. They don’t care about you.

Half an hour later she wheeled an overloaded cart out to her car and opened the trunk. No one had given her more than a passing glance, but she felt emotionally drained. She also had another half hour to kill. Tess slammed the trunk down and was about to get into her car, when she decided that instead she’d check out the hobby shop next to the clothing store where she was parked.

There were only two people in the store, an elderly man and woman looking at yarn, but Tess immediately went down an aisle. Jewelry-making supplies. She stopped for a moment, studying the long strings of bead of various colors. This had possibilities.

And then she spotted the bolts of fabric on long tables at the back of the store. One of the lengths of fabric matched the dress she’d seen in the clothing store window next door. Tess reached out and ran her hand over the geometric-printed jersey.

“That’s lovely fabric,” a woman said from behind her. Tess turned toward the woman standing a table away, tidying up the bolts. “Can I help you find anything in particular?”

“Uh, no,” Tess said. Now that the woman was looking at her, she felt the usual urge to run. “I’m just checking out possible crafts.”

“We have a lovely hobby kit section up front,” she said.

“Thank you. I’ll take a look.”

The lady went back to her folding and Tess returned to the front of the store. She spent a few minutes looking over the kits, none of which appealed to her the way the fabric had, and then quietly left the store for the safety of her car. Enough dillydallying around. She headed back to the vet clinic.

“No fracture,” Dr. Hyatt said after the tech ushered Tess back into the clinic area where Mac was lying on a table obviously woozy from a sedative. His front leg was wrapped with gauze and covered with some kind of pink stretchy wrap.

“Then...”

“It’s a soft tissue injury and perhaps a pulled tendon. I wrapped his leg so he stays off it.”

Sam gave her instructions on how to care for Mac’s leg, told her to give the wrap at least a week before taking it off, although, he warned, Mac may remove it himself. Sam wanted to see the dog again in two weeks if he didn’t improve.

Tess thanked him, paid cash for the visit and then waited for the receipt the girl insisted on writing while Sam carried the still woozy dog out to her car.

Wind whipped her hair as she left the clinic and walked over to her car where Blossom was now riding shotgun. Low dark clouds hung on the horizon in the direction she’d be driving. Another storm. Great. Tess was beginning to hate storms.

Despite the clouds, this one seemed to be mainly wind, which buffeted her car for most of the drive home, finally easing up about ten miles from Barlow Ridge. Tess’s knuckles ached from clutching the steering wheel so tightly. It had been one hell of a nerve-racking day—to the point that she might actually sleep tonight from sheer mental exhaustion.

It was close to seven when she crossed the cattle guard that marked the city limit of Barlow Ridge. When she stopped at the first of the two four-way stops, she noticed an odd orange glow on the far side of town, like a sunset on the wrong side of the valley. Tess frowned as she stopped at the second four-way, then her stomach tightened as she realized just what that glow was.

Fire.