Читать книгу Her Texas Lawman - Stella Bagwell - Страница 9

Her head now throbbing with pain, Lucita pulled her handbag onto her lap and began to search for a painkiller. She was still pawing her way through lipstick tubes and crumpled receipts when the cab door opened again and Deputy McCleod slid beneath the steering wheel. With him came the warm night air and his distinctly male scent. A prickle of awareness suddenly dotted her skin with goose bumps.

“No hog, Ms. Sanchez,” he told her. “Once it’s daylight, the department will have a closer inspection of your car. Of course, if we find anything, we’ll inform you.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Actually, I’m glad you didn’t find the hog. I didn’t want to think I’d ended its life, even if it would have helped me avoid a ticket.”

He reached for the clipboard and the paper where he’d jotted down her license information. “Hog. Tailgater. Whatever. You were obviously driving way too fast, Ms. Sanchez. I’d say if you put any value on that neck of yours, you’d better slow down.”

Lucita clamped her lips together as she watched him scratch more comments across the bottom of a second set of documents. He was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to watch him write what looked to be a whole stack of driving tickets.

“What am I supposed to do if someone starts to harass me on the highway again?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm.

He looked up and Lucita couldn’t help but notice the way his dark brows met in the middle of his forehead, the way the corners of his chiseled lips turned faintly downward. The man even made frowning look sexy, she thought.

“You really are concerned about a stalker, aren’t you?”

She nodded. “It’s just a hunch, but enough of one to scare me.”

To her surprise he reached across the seat and gently touched her forearm in a reassuring way. “I wouldn’t borrow trouble, Ms. Sanchez. Unfortunately, lots of people encounter rude, reckless drivers on the highway, but that’s where it ends. I doubt you’ll have any more problems. Just be vigilant and drive safely.”

Under normal circumstances, Lucita would agree with him. But her past wasn’t exactly normal. Three years ago her ex-husband had stolen every penny of the inheritance her family had given her after she’d turned twenty-five. And so far the police hadn’t been able to locate his whereabouts. But she wasn’t about to get into that sordid story with this man. After all, Deputy McCleod considered this a traffic incident and nothing more. And perhaps it would be best to let him keep thinking that, Lucita decided. Especially when she hadn’t a lick of proof that the person who’d practically run her down on the highway was Derek Campbell or anyone connected to him. Besides, during their ten-year marriage he’d never once threatened to harm her in any way.

Yet for the past few weeks she hadn’t been able to shake the idea that her ex was somehow connected to the person who’d been shadowing her comings and goings.

Folding the lawman’s handkerchief into a tight square, Lucita pressed it back to the leaky wound on the side of her head. “You’re right, Deputy McCleod,” she said after a moment. “I need to quit worrying and be glad that my car was the only victim tonight.”

“Like I said earlier, you’re one fortunate lady,” he said in a low voice. “I guess you know that?”

“Yeah,” she said with feigned cheerfulness, “this is definitely my lucky night.” Straightening her back, she looked away from him and said, “If you’re finished writing up that report, I’m going to call my brother to come get me.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he said curtly. “I’m taking you home myself.”

Her head turned toward him. “What?”

“We’re not that far from the Sandbur,” he explained. “There’s no need to bother your family. Besides, I think I need to talk with them about this little accident.”

Lucita couldn’t help but stare at him and wonder at his motive. As far as she knew, it wasn’t the legal responsibility of the sheriff’s department to see that she got home safely. “Is that normal procedure?” she couldn’t help but ask.

His face stoic, he ripped her portion of the ticket from his clipboard and handed it over to her. She took the piece of paper and without a glance crammed it into her purse.

“There’s no need for you to concern yourself about my procedure, Ms. Sanchez. I never step out of bounds.”

With the law, or women? she wondered. But she kept that question to herself. If this man knew she’d been looking at him as anything other than an official of the law, he’d probably write her a second set of tickets.

Deputy McCleod twisted the key in the ignition and the truck sparked to life. As he whirled the vehicle onto the highway, he picked up the two-way mike fastened to the dashboard. “Lijah, I’m headed to the Sandbur. Be sure to measure the skid marks and try to locate the owner of the damaged fence. If those bulls get out we’ll have accidents and lawsuits all over the place.”

“Gotcha, Ripp. Will do.”

Grabbing the seat belt, Lucita fastened it across her lap while the deputy gunned the truck down the highway toward the Sandbur turnoff.

Once she had the belt securely in place, she settled against the seat and stared out the blackened windshield. Her throbbing pulse was causing the gash on her head to leak even more and she pressed the handkerchief tightly to the wound. The fleeting thought passed through her mind that the snow-white fabric he’d lent her would never be the same again. She would owe him a handkerchief. But would she ever have the opportunity to repay him?

Idiot, she scolded herself. Seeing Deputy McCleod again was the last thing she needed to be thinking about.

From the corner of her eye, she watched him reach for the two-way radio. After the female dispatcher responded he began repeating letters and numbers that Lucita quickly recognized from her car tag and driver’s license. She understood. Even though her family was well-known in this part of Texas, he had no way of knowing if she had outstanding tickets or warrants. He had to treat her like any other person involved in an accident.

Moments later the dispatcher came back on the air. “Everything clear on that license and tag, number two.”

“Roger. Thanks.”

“Did she call you number two?” Lucita asked curiously.

“That’s my code,” he explained. “I’m the chief deputy behind the sheriff.”

“Oh.” She should have guessed he wasn’t a mere deputy. The man reeked authority, along with all that masculinity.

“Where will my car be taken?” she asked after a moment.

He answered her question. “To the only salvage yard in town—Santee’s. But just in case you’re wondering, I can save you the trouble and tell you right now that the vehicle is totaled.”

He flipped on the left-hand blinker and turned onto a graveled road that would eventually carry them to Lucita’s family ranch. The Sandbur was such a large property that it was divided into two: the Mission River Division and the Goliad Division. The latter was where the homes of the owners were located and it was to that bustling part of the ranch that Deputy McCleod headed as he guided the truck over a bumpy road past stands of mesquite trees and wesatch bushes.

Lucita wanted to ask him who’d made him an authority on automobiles, but she bit her tongue. There wasn’t any point in taking her bad fortune out on this lawman. So far he’d treated her with respect and concern where another lawman might have taken pleasure in giving her an angry chewing-out.

Forcing her gaze away from his handsome profile, she said in a quiet voice, “Do you think I’m lying about the tailgater bumping into me?”

Not bothering to spare her a glance, he said, “No. But there’s a chance you could be mistaken. Things happen quickly when a person is traveling at a high rate of speed. And I—”

He paused as though he didn’t think his next words were appropriate and Lucita was quick to prompt him. “Please finish, Deputy McCleod. I respect your experienced opinion.”

“Okay. I get the feeling that you’re holding something back about this whole thing.”

The insinuation in his words made her more than a little uncomfortable. She didn’t want this man knowing that she was the black sheep of the Saddler-Sanchez family, that she was the only one who’d brought shame upon herself and her loved ones by marrying a guy they all objected to. “In other words, you don’t trust me.”

He darted a glance at her and the aloofness on his face left her colder than the air blowing from the vents on the dashboard.

“Ms. Sanchez, in my business I can’t take anyone at face value.”

Thankfully for Lucita the remaining distance to the ranch house was only a few short miles. The atmosphere inside the deputy’s truck was thick with tension and the only noise breaking the awkward silence was the sound of crackling voices going back and forth over the two-way radio.

Lucita hunkered down and tried to rest her head on the back of the seat, but each time the truck hit a washed-out hole in the road, the jarring seemed to go right to her injury. After a couple of minutes she gave up and sat rigidly on the edge of the seat.

Before long they crossed a cattle guard framed with an iron pipe entrance. Above, on the arch brace, the S/S brand cut from sheet metal swung in the night breeze.

After they rumbled across the slatted cattle guard, the road began to branch off in all directions between barns, corrals and outbuildings. Deputy McCleod seemed to know exactly where he was going, as he passed the main ranch house, and barreled on toward her father’s redbrick home. She could only surmise that he’d been here before. Perhaps he’d visited when some unidentified ruffians had seriously injured her father in town, or maybe he was acquainted with her brothers personally. She could only guess. One thing she did know, if she’d met him before, she would have never forgotten him.

Lucita quickly corrected his directions. “I’m not living with my father and brothers. I live in the guesthouse out back. You need to go past the first turnoff.”

Thankfully he didn’t ply her with personal questions. Instead, he said, “I think I’d better hand you over to your family, first. I want to make sure you get that wound attended to.”

The man didn’t even trust her to take care of herself. Well, what did she expect, she asked herself grimly. She’d confessed to driving at dangerous speeds. That didn’t exactly speak well for her common sense. But if he’d only seen the menacing car trying to run her down, he might actually understand the desperation she’d felt.

Moments later he parked in front of the Grecian-style manor house. Grabbing up her handbag, Lucita followed him up the lighted path to the front entrance. She hoped that someone was home by now.

To her relief, her older brother, Matteo, Matt to those who knew him well, answered the door. The moment he saw the caller was Deputy McCleod, he stepped onto the concrete porch with a broad smile and reached to shake his hand.

“Ripp! What are you doing out here tonight, old buddy?”

The tall, lean deputy stepped to one side and gestured to Lucita, who was standing at the edge of the shadows.

“I have your sister here, Matt. She met up with an accident a little bit earlier tonight. I thought you’d better know about it.”

Lucita felt like a child bringing home a note from her teacher. Only this was worse than getting caught rubbing dirt in a boy’s face or kicking a pompous cheerleader in the shins.

For a moment her dark-haired, muscular brother was completely stunned. “My God! Luci!”

Stepping into the glaring orb of the porch light, Lucita realized she must be a frightful sight. Blood was smeared on her cheek and hands, and at some point since the accident, it had dripped onto her beige blouse and matching slacks, leaving red splotches against the expensive linen.

Matt grabbed her by the shoulders. “What happened?”

Even though Matt was only four years older than her thirty-six years, he took the big brother role a step further, treating her more like a father. For the past three years it had been Matt who’d pestered and cajoled until she’d packed up her son and their belongings and moved from Corpus Christi back to the Sandbur. It had been Matt who’d convinced her that family was meant to be together, especially in times of trouble. Well, she’d had more than her share of strife and it looked as though her misfortune was still hanging around to make her life even more difficult.

“I’m okay, Matt. Really. It’s just a little cut on the head. Is Marti inside or at the guesthouse?” She glanced around him to the double door entrance of the house. If her eleven-year-old son, Marti, spotted the official sheriff vehicle in the driveway, he’d be outside in a split second to investigate. Lucita wasn’t keen about him seeing her in such a state. The boy had already been through enough traumas these past three years without him knowing his mother had nearly lost her life.

“Neither. He and Gracia are up at the big house playing some sort of card game with Aunt Geraldine.”

“Good,” she said, relieved. “I don’t want him to see me like this.”

Matt whipped an accusing look at the deputy. “Ripp, what the hell did you bring her here for? She needs to be in the emergency room!”

Ripp grimaced. He’d expected this from Matt. And no doubt Mingo would be just as appalled to see his daughter battered and bleeding. The Sanchez men were one of the reasons he’d decided to personally deliver Lucita here to the ranch. Several years ago, Mingo had gone out of his way to help Ripp get the job of Chief Deputy for Sheriff Travers. As for Matt, he’d become a friend to Ripp while in high school and that friendship had deepened over the years. During that time he’d not met Lucita, but now he definitely wished he had.

“Your sister is just as bullheaded as you are, Matt. She refused an ambulance. Said her cousin would sew her up if need be.”

“Luci, there are times to be tough, and then there’re times you need to accept help! When are you ever going to learn that?” Matt gently scolded before grabbing his sister by the arm and hurrying her toward the house. “You lucked out tonight, sis. Nicci and Ridge just happened to come back with us after supper and they’re still here.” He looked over to Ripp. “Come in, Ripp. You can tell me what happened while Nicci sees to Luci’s injury.”

Nodding, Ripp followed the two siblings inside the big, two-story house. Compared to Ripp’s little bungalow on the outskirts of Goliad, this home was more than a mansion. The Saddler and Sanchez families, co-owners of the Sandbur, were wealthy and had been for more than a century. Yet Ripp would be the first to admit that Matt and his family never behaved as though they were affluent. Whenever he’d been around them, they had acted the same as any regular folks that worked hard for a living. And Ripp knew for a fact that none of the men sat back and let the hired help run the ranch for them. They got manure on their hands just like the rest of the crew. But as for their sister, Lucita, Ripp was in the dark. Before tonight he’d heard snippets of gossip about her from time to time. Lucita seemed to be the outsider of the family, but then a person could hear anything, especially when they worked in law enforcement.

“Nicci! Juliet! Come here!” Matt yelled as they stepped into an empty great room.

Matt’s wife Juliet, a tall blond woman, was the first to rush into the room. Nicci, their pregnant cousin, was right behind her and with her doctor’s instinct, she was the first to race to Lucita.

“My God, Lucita!” Nicci exclaimed. “What happened?”

“Seems she’s had some sort of car accident,” Matt spoke up before Lucita could answer. “Can you do something about her head?”

“Of course! Ridge and I carry a medical bag around in the car—just in case it’s needed. I’ll get him to fetch it.” The petite brunette gently placed her arm around Lucita’s shoulder. “Come on, Luci, let’s get that wound taken care of.”

Juliet started toward the kitchen. “I’ll tell Ridge to get the medical bag.”

Once the three women were out of the room, Ripp watched Matt heave out a heavy sigh before turning a look of concern on him.

“What in hell happened, Ripp? Were any other cars involved?”

“I’m not exactly sure about that.”

Matt raked a hand through his hair and Ripp thought his friend seemed a little overwrought about the whole incident. True, his sister had been slightly injured and her car was smashed, but that was a minor problem to a family with money to spare.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“We’ll talk about that later. Right now you should just be happy that all Lucita received was a bump on the head. She’s lucky to be alive. Before we left the scene of the accident, she admitted to me that she’d been driving very fast.”

His face grim, Matt stared at him. “So she was breaking the speed limit, after sundown, when she knows the deer and hogs are venturing out? What the hell was she thinking?”

Ripp grimaced. He hated being the bearer of bad news, but in this case and every case, he had to be honest even if it meant bringing worry and pain to a friend.

“I’m not sure. Hell, Matt, she left skid marks from here to the horse barn and that’s no exaggeration. I haven’t examined the scene of the accident closely yet, I left Lijah in charge of that. But on first glance it looked as though once she stomped on the brakes, the car went into a spin. The front wound up having a head-on crash with a power pole. Her vehicle is totaled, that’s for sure.”

Shaking his head with disbelief, Matt gestured toward a grouping of leather furniture situated in front of a fireplace—unlit, of course, since they were presently sweating through the last sultry days of August.

“Sit, Ripp. We don’t need to stand up to talk. How about a cup of coffee or a beer?”

Ripp really didn’t have time to sit or enjoy any sort of drink, but Matt seemed particularly upset about his sister’s accident. He didn’t want to make things worse for him by cutting this visit short. “Better make it coffee,” he told his friend. “I’m still on duty.”

While Ripp made himself comfortable in a nearby armchair, Matt left for the kitchen. As he waited for the rancher to return, Ripp slowly eyed the spacious room. He’d been in the house a few times in the past few years and what he always remembered most about the place was that, in spite of the opulence, its rooms were warm, relaxed and homey.

Lucita had told him that she lived in the guesthouse situated about a hundred yards behind this building. He’d never been inside that particular house, but it had always reminded him of one of those Mediterranean villas with its low roof, pale pink stucco and arched supports running along the ground-floor porch. To Ripp it was a minimansion, but it didn’t compare to this house and he wondered why the sister and her son had chosen to live there instead of here with the rest of the family. Maybe those rumors he’d heard about her being an outsider of sorts were true. Or maybe her husband didn’t want to live that closely with his in-laws. That is, if she had a husband. The name on her driver’s license had been Sanchez and nothing more. But there were some women who chose not to take their husbands’ name, especially when they were from a prestigious family, whose name equaled authority.

In any case, he shouldn’t be curious about the woman. She was a ranching heiress, a woman way out of a poor lawman’s league, and more than likely married. So why had something about her caught his attention from the very first moment he’d walked up to her demolished car?

Maybe because she’s a beauty and then some, McCleod. And maybe because when she fell into your arms you felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness.

Moments later, when Matt reappeared in the living room, Ripp did his best to shake away his strange feelings toward his friend’s sister.

A young woman with a black braid wound atop her head followed him, carrying a tray with an insulated pot and two cups.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting, Ripp,” Matt said as he took a seat on the couch. “Alida was making fresh coffee and I was explaining to Dad about the accident.”

Ripp looked toward the kitchen. “Where is your father?”

Matt jerked his head toward the part of the house where the women had disappeared. “He and Ridge are checking on Luci.”

Alida, the young maid, quietly served each man a mug full of coffee then discreetly left the room. Once she was out of sight, Matt scooted to the edge of the seat and pinned Ripp with an insistent stare.

“All right, Ripp, what’s the real story here? I can see it on your face. Something else was going on with Luci tonight, wasn’t it?”

Ripp’s dark brows slowly inched upward. “What do you mean? Your sister had a wreck. It happens to a lot of people—unfortunately every day of the year.”

“Damn it, man, that’s not what I mean! What did she tell you caused it? My sister isn’t irresponsible. On top of that, she’s a careful driver. She wouldn’t have been speeding just because she wanted to go fast. Luci would be too worried about hurting someone else on the highway to do such a thing. She’s that sort of person.”

Ripp took a sip of the rich, Colombian coffee as he met Matt’s gaze with a frank look. “Your sister said someone was tailgating her—trying to hit her from behind. She said she sped up in an attempt to get away from the other vehicle. After that, a hog ran in front of her and she tried to avoid hitting it. That’s when she lost control of the car.”

As Ripp talked he could see his friend’s expression grow harder and harder. Strange, he thought, that Matt hadn’t responded with disbelief.

“What about the other car?” Matt asked.

Ripp shrugged. “If there was another car it apparently went on down the highway.”

“And didn’t bother to see if anyone had been hurt? Doesn’t that seem a bit strange?”

Actually, Lucita’s Sanchez’s whole rendition of the accident had seemed outlandish to Ripp, but in his line of work he’d seen stranger things happen out on the roads and highways. “Only a little, Matt. Lots of people don’t want to get involved with accidents.”

“Fender benders maybe. But from what you tell me this was a crash! Someone could have been dead!”

Ripp took another sip of coffee as he measured his friend’s strong reaction. He tried to make his next question as casual sounding as he could. “Do you believe someone was actually trying to run your sister off the road?”

“Damn right, I believe it,” Matt snapped. “If she said it, then it happened. Luci doesn’t lie.”

Trying to keep an open mind about the whole thing, Ripp said, “All right, Matt, if you say so, I believe you. So I’m asking as a lawman, is there some reason you believe Lucita was attacked?”

Lucita’s brother stared down into his mug. “Not exactly,” he said quietly.

“That’s funny,” Ripp replied. “I got the impression that you weren’t too surprised to hear about Lucita’s claims. And she tells me she believes someone has been stalking her.”

With a tight grimace, Matt lifted his gaze up to Ripp’s. “Look, Ripp, my sister…” His words trailing away, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one else had entered the room. “She’s had a rough time of things for a few years now. I don’t want to say a lot about it, because frankly, she’s not wild about everyone knowing what went on between her and that bastard of a husband she used to have.”

Used to have. Crazy, how Ripp’s mind had latched onto those three words. “Your sister is divorced?”

Matt nodded. “Yeah. And I thank God she is. He was a loser and—”

“And what?” Ripp prompted, realizing he wanted to know more about the lovely woman who’d fallen briefly into his arms. She’d felt soft and fragile and her hair had smelled like the flowers that had grown in his mother’s garden. He knew his reaction to her was sappy, even foolish, but it was there and he couldn’t stop it.

“Well, nobody knows where he is,” Matt went on. “He disappeared.”

Frowning, Ripp tried to understand what significance that had on Lucita’s car accident. “Hell, Matt, that’s not so unusual. Especially if he had to pay alimony.”

Matt’s expression was suddenly thunderous. “It’s not alimony I’m talking about—they have a son. Marti thinks his father hates him. That’s hell for an eleven-year-old boy.”

Lucita had a son. He figured something like that while they’d been on the porch and she’d mentioned the name Marti. But she was divorced. That snippet of information put everything in a different light. A light that he needed to switch off, he quickly reminded himself.

“Has her ex ever stalked her before?”

Matt shook his head. “No. Not that I know of.”

“What about threats or anything like that?” Ripp persisted. If there was even the slightest chance that Lucita Sanchez was in danger, he wanted to know about it.

More thoughtful now than angry, Matt said, “No, Lucita has never mentioned anything like that. In fact, I’m sure she hasn’t heard from him since he left.”

“Well, this whole thing could have just been an accident, Matt. There’re some pretty foolish drivers out there on the road. They might not have realized just how close they were to your sister. In any case, I wouldn’t worry myself about it.”

He drained the last of his coffee and placed the mug on a nearby end table. “I’d better be going, Matt. I left Lijah dealing with the fence your sister plowed up. He might need help.”

Ripp started toward the foyer and Matt followed. At the door, the rancher slapped a grateful hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks for bringing Lucita home, Ripp. We’ll see that she’s taken care of.”

Nodding, Ripp said, “A tow truck will take her car into Santee’s. After the sheriff’s department finishes its investigation, Lucita’s insurance company can find it there.” He grimaced as he glanced back at his friend. “Sorry, Matt, but I had to give her a citation. Without proof of the other car I couldn’t do anything else.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to do anything else,” Matt said, and then with a worried shake of his head, added, “I just hope nothing else happens and that it really was only some nutty driver on the road.”

“Yeah. Me, too,” Ripp agreed.

Realizing he’d already stayed longer than he should have, Ripp gave Matt a final farewell and left the house. But as he drove away, his gaze drifted one last time to the scattered lights beaming through the windows of the Sanchez home. A part of him wished he could have seen Lucita before he’d left. Just to make sure she was okay.

Forget her, McCleod. You don’t want another woman in your life. Especially a gorgeous heiress with problems as big as her bank account. That sort of trouble you don’t need.

Ripp was agreeing with the little voice in his head and trying to push her pretty face from his mind when Lijah’s voice suddenly came across the radio.

“Hey, number two. You close to your radio?”

Sighing with unexplained weariness, Ripp picked up the mike. “Yeah. I’m here, Lijah. What’s up? You didn’t let those bulls get out, did you?”

“Forget the fence. Done got it patched. I’ve been measuring those skid marks like you told me, but I’ve run into a little problem.”

Ripp frowned. Lijah wasn’t always the smartest deputy on the crew, but Ripp loved him like a brother and tried to be patient with his sometimes-thick head. “What sort of problem?”

“There’re two sets of skid marks here, Ripp.”

Ripp’s mind whirled as he tried to recall the marks he’d inspected from inside his truck as he’d driven up to the scene of the accident. He’d not taken the time to stop and walk the whole distance of the tire tracks. At that time it had been more important to make sure the occupants of the car were okay. Apparently Lijah had found something to corroborate Lucita’s story. “Two? Take a closer look, Lijah. You got your glasses on?”

“Dang it, Ripp, you know I don’t come to work without my glasses! I see two sets of skid marks. They’re almost on top of each other. You’d better come look for yourself.”

A cold, sinking feeling dropped to the pit of Ripp’s stomach. This was evidence that another car had been following Lucita closely. But did it mean that someone had been trying to harm her? He couldn’t answer that with one hundred percent certainty until he investigated more. And that was something he thoroughly intended to do.

“Lay out some barriers, Lijah. I don’t want another car to drive over that section of highway before I get a good look. I’ll be right there.”