Читать книгу Lone Star Bachelor - Linda Goodnight - Страница 11
ОглавлениеThe Gabriel’s Crossing Building and Supply Company spanned a full block and was one of Sawyer’s favorite places to shop, if you called buying boards and nails shopping.
Employees knew him by name and catered to his needs as a trim carpenter specializing in beautiful cabinetry and other built-ins. To top it all off, the coffee and popcorn were free.
He stood next to the fragrant machines, munching hot, salty corn while waiting for Dawson. His twin had hit the neighborhood pool early this morning while Sawyer ran five miles around the golf course, their usual routine. Sawyer ran. Dawson swam. He’d not bothered to inform the know-it-all investigator of this fact. That she hadn’t headed over to Dawson’s condo was a good sign that she already knew their daily routines, an unsettling thought. Though he had nothing to hide, he wasn’t wild about the idea of someone knowing his every move. Invasive. Like Big Brother or something.
“Sawyer, good morning. May I help you?”
A dark-haired woman in glasses wearing a red apron and carrying a tape measure approached. She’d worked here in the Building and Supply a long time but he could never remember her name. “I’m good. Thanks.”
She paused in front of him as if she had something important to say. “I guess you’re waiting for Dawson.”
“Yep. As usual, I’m here and he’s late.”
“You’re always so punctual. Can I get you anything while you wait? Popcorn or maybe a coffee?” When he hoisted his popcorn bag, she continued, “We have some new router bits you might want to see.”
“Thanks, but no. I like to create my own custom designs.”
Her smile faltered. “Oh.”
She seemed disappointed and he didn’t like to hurt anyone’s feelings. “On second thought, if those router bits are handy, I’ll have a look. Okay?”
The clerk perked right up. She smiled and pushed at her glasses. “I’ll grab the examples for you. We have some pretty ones I’d love to have in my new home. When I get married, I mean.” Her cheeks reddened.
He glanced at her name tag. Nora. “Are congratulations in order? You getting married soon?”
“Oh. Well. I hope so.” She blushed a deeper crimson and flapped a hand in front of her face. “I’ll get those samples.”
“Thanks, Nora.”
Still blushing and smiling, she hurried off.
Mouth dry from the popcorn, Sawyer poured himself a cup of coffee. He wasn’t a big coffee man, but the other Buchanons lived on the stuff. Cut a Buchanon and he bled sawdust, coffee and family loyalty.
He stirred too much cream into the foam cup and heard his brother say, “Why not have a glass of milk?”
“Hey.” He left the coffee sitting and turned to Dawson, whose black hair was still wet and shiny from his swim. He was a good-looking dude, even if Sawyer did say so. The same height, with the same face, he and his brother were best friends, though their personalities were different.
Dawson was a calm, introspective guy who counseled family and friends with a gentle God-directed wisdom. Dawson was, in a word, sensitive, and noticed nuances and undercurrents in relationships that Sawyer invariably missed.
Sawyer was—Well, he was different. He’d rather make people smile.
“I had a visitor this morning.”
“Yeah? Who?” Dawson confiscated the abandoned coffee cup and sipped.
“Private investigator.”
The unflappable brother gave a facial shrug. “Dad warned us.”
“He didn’t warn us about one thing.”
An eyebrow shot up. “Yeah? What’s that?”
“She’s a woman. A young, beautiful woman. Maybe thirty. About this tall.” Sawyer indicated shoulder height. “Wavy blond hair to her shoulders. Kind of soft and vulnerable looking. Not your stereotypical PI.”
Dawson saluted him with the cup. “You sure noticed a lot about her. You must be interested.”
He was, and he couldn’t figure out why. “You need to meet her before you form an opinion. Tough lady.”
“Hard-boiled?”
“Cold as a grape Popsicle in January.”
“Aw, poor Sawyer.” Dawson pulled a silly face. “The lady wasn’t charmed.”
“Not one bit.”
Dawson chuckled and toasted him with the cup. “Losing your touch, bro.”
The salesclerk—Nora—came around an end cap struggling to juggle several blister-wrapped packages with four wooden cabinet doors. Sawyer leaped forward to help. “Let me carry those. That’s too much for one lady.”
“Thank you.” She beamed up at him as he stood close enough to take charge of the wooden doors. “These are the new router designs. When I saw them, I thought of you.”
Sawyer sorted through the stack, sharing each one with his twin. “Nice. What do you think, Dawson? Can we use some of these?”
Dawson put his finger on one. “This would look great in the Carter house in the Huckleberry Addition.”
Nora, standing between the brothers, frowned up at Sawyer. “The Carter house? Is that a new one? I don’t remember seeing any invoices with that name.”
“It was a spec home until Charity sold it a couple of days ago. Now that we know the owner, we’ll be coordinating on the final details with the Carters.” Sawyer tapped the router design. “I agree with Dawson. This one’s great, but maybe we could take samples of all of them for showing? You never know a buyer’s taste.”
“Sure!” she said. “We can do that. I’ll go in the back and have the guys run some scrap boards for you to take along.”
Dawson reached in his pocket and removed two master keys. “Almost forgot. Can you make a couple of copies from these?”
Her smile broadened. “Be glad to. Should I mark them so you’ll know them apart?”
“Good idea.” He indicated the project name for each key. “Thanks, Nora.”
“Anytime.” She started off but turned back, gaze falling on Sawyer. “If you need anything else, let me know.”
She left them, and the brothers got down to business, going over their respective phone lists of supplies they needed for today’s work.
“I think you have another admirer,” Dawson said as they walked through the supply building.
“Who?” The private investigator flashed into Sawyer’s head. Jade—pretty name, but hard as the jewel she was named for.
“Nora, dimwit. You need an update on your navigation system?”
“The clerk? Nah, she’s a great employee. She helps everyone like that.”
Dawson tossed the empty cup into a trash can. “She’s never brought me samples to look at. Except that time she thought I was you.”
“Nothing unusual about that.” They were mirror twins. Dawson was right-handed and Sawyer a leftie. Each had an identical birthmark but on opposite shoulders. But many people still confused them because they were otherwise identical. They’d dealt with the twin confusion all their lives and had used it to their advantage many times, particularly during the ornery middle school years.
“Except she called me Sawyer and sort of gushed, getting all red like she did a minute ago.” Dawson pitter-pattered a hand over his heart.
“Give it a rest. After being grilled by the private investigator this morning, I’m not thinking about women.” None except the PI.
“That bad, huh?”
“You’ll get your turn. What I can’t figure out is why the focus is on me.”
“The photo was you.”
True. No matter how he combed his hair, the part fell naturally to the left. Dawson’s on the right. Otherwise, they’d never have figured out an identity. Weird that he didn’t recall when or where the photo was taken.
“Just because a picture of me was found on a vandalized site doesn’t make the discovery significant. Maybe the photo has nothing at all to do with the case.”
“Convince Dad of that.”
“Right,” Sawyer said. “Dad and one female Sherlock Holmes.”
* * *
The Red River Roost, a long, old-fashioned strip motel complete with a rooster perched in crowing posture above the flashing vacancy sign, looked a little tired but offered extended stays for a price that fit Jade’s expense budget. Dale Trentworth, owner of Paris Investigations, squeezed every penny and expected his employees to do the same.
Jade knew all about pinching pennies, and the River Roost, as the manager called the place, wasn’t too bad. Located in a residential area on the far side of Gabriel’s Crossing, the place should be quiet and restful, and that was all she required.
She pulled her Chevy into the spot in front of Unit Three and got out, peeling off her jacket as she approached her room. To say she was sweltering in this black suit would be a gross understatement. She was a cooked goose, a roasted duck, a rabbit on a spit baking in the Texas sun. Sweaty and sticky, though the day was young, she tossed the jacket over her elbow.
She knew better than to wear black this time of year, but she’d wanted to appear professional and in control. If she’d arrived at Sawyer Buchanon’s house in a dress and spiky heels, he might have turned on the charm and distracted her from her questions. Not that he hadn’t tried anyway. The man was a born flirt.
She had not been moved. Not one bit.
Well, perhaps a little, but she’d handled him and his charisma. Even if the picture of his too-handsome face kept flashing behind her eyes, she was proud of her cool, competent reaction.
Now that she’d established her professionalism and complete lack of interest in Mr. Playboy Buchanon, the black had to go.
A glance at her cell phone indicated plenty of time to change before her next appointment.
What she wouldn’t give to slip into comfortable jeans and a cool tank top, but first impressions mattered in this business. To be taken seriously, she had to work harder than a man. A glance in the mirror wasn’t required to remind her of how she looked. Petite. Fragile. An easy mark.
She was neither fragile nor easy, not anymore. But her size wasn’t likely to change, and unless she succumbed to plastic surgery. Neither was her baby-doll face.
Well, she was no baby doll. Sawyer Buchanon and his kind better understand that from the get-go.
She was tough and determined.
Fishing for her key, she glanced around, taking mental snapshots of her surroundings. Police work had taught her to be always on the alert, though Gabriel’s Crossing, Texas, was about as calm and peaceful a place as she could think of.
Yet someone had sabotaged the Buchanons’ work projects. Bad things happened in small towns, only on a lesser scale.
The small motel was sparsely populated this weekday morning. Beneath the awning in front of the office sat a battered green pickup truck with a riding lawn mower in the bed. From somewhere nearby, she smelled the clean, fresh aroma of cut grass.
A gray late-model Hyundai was parked in front of Unit Eight and a cleaning cart sat outside Unit Seven. Out on the street, a black SUV motored slowly past, tires hissing against the hot pavement.
A few doors up at Unit One, a young strawberry blonde exited her room, a chubby-cheeked baby on her hip. Her gaze caught Jade’s. She looked worried, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, brow furrowed beneath wispy bangs. She also looked like a kid, sixteen, seventeen at the most.
Watchful but concerned, too, Jade offered a smile. “Cute baby.”
Babies got to her in a big way. She’d wanted two or three. Cam hadn’t wanted any. He’d made that painfully clear.
The teenager shifted the baby on her hip. “Thanks. Say hi, Ashton.”
She lifted the baby’s little hand and waved. Jade waved back, and the friendliness must have been the encouragement the girl needed. She glanced toward the parking lot, squared her shoulders and walked the few feet to Jade’s door.
Glad she hadn’t unlocked her unit, Jade took the girl’s measure. She was an inch or two taller than Jade and too thin, her pale skin devoid of makeup. Dressed in jean shorts and a pink T-shirt, she wore cheap flip-flops and had a pink Cupid’s heart tattooed on top of her left foot. No other obvious identifying marks.
Jade relaxed. The girl presented no threat that she could detect. She was just a friendly, nervous teenager with a baby wearing only a disposable diaper.
“I was wondering.” The girl darted a worried glance at Jade but quickly looked down at her shoes. “I need a ride. Ashton’s out of diapers and...” She let the words trail away.
“You don’t have a car?”
The red-blond ponytail swished from side to side. “No.”
A dozen questions flashed through Jade’s mind. Where was this girl’s family? What was she doing in a motel? Was she alone?
She caught on the last one. “Are you staying here by yourself?”
“Me and Ashton.” The girl focused on the baby and then on Jade. She licked her lips and swallowed.
Nervous. Embarrassed.
Jade logged every movement, assessing. As a cop, she’d dealt with plenty of runaways. Was this another?
“Where do you live?”
The girl shrugged, but her face flushed crimson. “We got kicked out and moved here.”
“Kicked out of where?” Jade was being nosy but this girl had asked for a ride. No harm in requesting information in exchange.
“My mom’s place. She let me stay for a while after I had Ashton, but—well, money’s tight and she has her own problems. She said it was time for us to take care of ourselves.”
Nice family. “You have no one else? What about the baby’s father?”
The girl rolled her eyes and made a rueful sound. “He skipped out a looong time ago.”
The baby started to fuss and squirm in his mother’s arms. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. Instinctively, Jade reached out and grasped the little guy’s thrashing arm and wiggled it.
“Are you too hot, precious?” she crooned. “You sure are a handsome boy.”
The baby quieted instantly, his big brown eyes latched onto her face.
“I think he likes you,” the girl said hopefully.
Jade laughed, itching to hold him as she made a quick decision. Walking half a mile to the nearest store for diapers would be miserable for both mom and baby.
“What’s your name?”
“Bailey.”
“Okay, Bailey. I’m Jade. I need to change clothes but I won’t be long. Fifteen minutes or so, maybe. Take the baby back to your room and stay cool. I’ll knock on the door when I’m ready and I’ll drive you down to the Dollar Store.”
Relief washed over the girl like a sudden summer rain. “Thank you so much. I can’t pay you but—”
Jade waved her off. The girl probably didn’t have two extra nickels. “I’m glad to do it. Ashton is adorable.”
And you break my heart.
The key caught and Jade entered the small motel room, grateful for the blast of cool air chugging from the wall unit.
The room was clean, but that was about all she could say for it. Bed, TV, desk and cheap chair with a tiny bathroom. “All the comforts of home.”
She didn’t plan to be here long. The Red River Roost would do until she finished the investigation and returned to her nice apartment in Paris, Texas.
Resisting the urge to jump in the shower and cool off, she changed tops and jackets, opting for a white blazer and orchid button-down. Still professional, but definitely cooler.
From beneath the mattress, she withdrew her tiny laptop and booted up, taking a moment to check her email and run through some records sent by her boss, though nothing appeared pertinent to the Buchanon case. At least not yet.
As an afterthought, she pulled up Sawyer’s Facebook profile. Social media was an amazing source of information to private investigators and police officers.
She scanned through the recent posts, pausing at one with a puzzled frown. Sawyer had responded to a message with:
Praying for you, man. Hang in there.
In another, he’d posted a scripture.
No one had mentioned his religious affiliation, but Jade had experience with men who wielded scriptures like a weapon. Her father was one of them, battering her, her brothers and mother over the head with the Bible whenever the words suited his intent.
Granted, Sawyer’s scripture had been encouraging, not scathing, but religious fanatics were always suspect in her book. Closing the lid, Jade slid the laptop back into its hiding place. She exited the room, still pondering the complexities of human beings, one in particular. She wondered if Sawyer’s twin would prove as interesting.
