ACCORDING TO PLAN (12 page)

Chapter Seventeen

When I’d been on the ranch almost two months, Mrs. Cribbs said I
had potential. Potential for killing everything in the garden, that is.

She faithfully showed me which plants were edible and which ones
you pulled. My back ached from being stooped over, so I took a mini-break and
sat back on my haunches to look at the pile of pulled weeds.

“Are you sure these are weeds?”

They looked exactly like the ones still protruding out of the
ground.

She looked over from a few rows away where she picked raspberries. “Yes
dear, except the one at your knee. If you look closely you’ll see little potatoes.”

Sure enough, baby potatoes dangled from the big green leaves I’d
ruthlessly tugged out of the ground. Oh dear. Brushing dirt off my knees I
stood and pressed a hand to my back.

Gardening was hard work and the patch Caleb had at the back of his
house was huge. We’d spent the last week peeling and dicing strawberries and
rhubarb for pies. Some were in the freezer, but most had gone to the bake sale
at Mrs. Cribbs’ church. Mrs. Cribbs promised to show me how to can raspberries
and make jelly.

I heard the familiar clip-clop of a horse on the gravel drive and
turned. Caleb swung up the drive and cantered toward us. He sat the horse well.
Broad shoulders, cowboy hat, muscular thighs gripping either side of the roan
stallion. Shading my eyes I watched him. Leather creaked when he leaned toward
me, resting his tanned forearm on the saddle horn.

“I’ve got good news, Dixie.”

My breath stopped in my throat.

“There’s been a break in the case and you can go home.”

Home? This was my home. A bubble of panic rose and I squashed it
down as best I could. Faking a smile I said, “That
is
good news. We
should celebrate.”

He swung off the horse and holding the reins loosely, stood over
me. He chucked his leather-gloved hand under my chin. “That’s exactly what I
thought. What do you think about going to the town dance with me?”

I looked over at Mrs. Cribbs, but she tactfully kept busy with the
raspberries. A dance? Moving together in close contact? To music? I stammered
out, “Uh, yeah. I mean, yes. I’d love to go to a dance.”

A slow smile lifted the corner of his mouth, “Great. It’s a date.”

He pivoted and placing one foot in the stirrup, swung himself
easily onto the back of the big horse. He dipped his hat at me, “Dixie,” and
then Mrs. Cribbs. “Ma’am.” He clicked his tongue in the back of his throat and
turned the roan toward the stables.

“Caleb, wait!” I called out and he pulled up on the horse. Twisting
in the saddle, he looked back at me and grinned as I tripped over the little
spade I’d been using to dig at helpless green, living plants. Pushing my hair
out of my face I asked. “What was the break in the case?”

“Didn’t I tell you?”

“No. My memory lapses are from
before
I got here, not
while
I’ve been here.”

He grinned further. “We know who bombed your house and an arrest
has been made. We’re confident you can return home soon.”

Chewing my lip I digested this latest piece of news. This was good
news. Wasn’t it?

“Anything else?” He patted the horse’s neck as it whinnied and
stomped, anxious to move again.

“Nope. Thanks for the invite to the dance.”

“You’re more than welcome, Ma’am.” He pressed his heels on the
sides of the roan and cantered off, whistling a tuneless song.

Mrs. Cribbs made a choking sound and I looked over to see her ample
bosom jiggling from barely suppressed laughter.

“What?” I turned back to watch Caleb, disappearing down the road
that led to the stables.

She tried to smother her laughter, but it echoed in every word, “Oh
dear. He sure put on a show. Made me think of Gary Cooper in
High Noon
,
the way he rode up, calling me ma’am.”

“Yeah, I guess he did at that. He sure looked good on the horse.”

Mrs. Cribbs smiled. “Yes, he sure did. Reminded of my late husband,
Gerry. God rest his soul.” She picked up her full basket of raspberries and
started walking to the house. “I guess we should go shopping. It’s only a few
days until the dance.”

Confusion must have shown on my face because she laughed again and
said, “You can’t wear what you got on to the dance. We have to find you the
right dress, a nice pair of boots and get your hair cut. Come on.” She put her
arm around my waist, “I know just the place to take you.”

I don’t know what scared me more. Going on a quasi-date with Caleb
or shopping for a pair of boots with Mrs. Cribbs.

****

“You look divine!” The salesclerk gushed.

I cast a wry eye over the outfit in question. I may look like a
dumb blonde, but no way would I dress like one.
Julianna
, my personal
stylist, insisted I pour myself into a slinky red leather dress which left very
little to the imagination and could double as a rain slicker if required. She
then produced a pair of mile-high stilettos and cooed that my boyfriend would
simply
adore
me in them.

Caleb had given me his platinum card to shop with and after a quick
call to make sure it wasn’t stolen, I’d been subjected to speculative glances
all afternoon.

I looked at the sultry siren reflected in the mirror and was
suddenly tired of being nice to a woman who obviously thought I was being kept
in the wrong sense of the word. This was just one more moment where I wished I
had my own job and money and identity. I pulled the curtain and poked my head
out.

“Julianna.”

She scurried over to my dressing room.

“Find me something quiet and understated. Something
you
would never wear. I also need a pair of shoes that are chic and not over three
inches.” Pivoting, I ignored her outraged gasp and drew the dressing room
curtain closed. I tugged and pulled the dress over my head and hung it back up.
The three dimensional mirror allowed me to see my whole body and I noticed a mark
at the top of my hip.

Twisting as far as I could, my back to the mirror, I stared at the
tattoo which looked like a
T, with an artsy heart wrapped around
it. I never thought I’d be the kind of girl who had a tattoo, but apparently I
was. Maybe I
should
wear the come hither dress. Either that or a leather
jacket with chains because I was a biker chick, although I didn’t feel like
one. A quick check revealed no more inked art and I was torn between relief and
disappointment.

Maybe my name started with the letter T. I rolled a few names on my
tongue to see if they sounded familiar. Theresa, Tara, Tiffany. None felt
right. Tracey? Taylor? Trish? I sighed in frustration. None of them triggered
name memories. Maybe I’d gotten a tattoo for the elusive Aunt Tillie.

Julianna returned and with an elegant sniff handed me a few more
dresses and a pair of beige pumps.

“Thank you.” I poked my head around the curtain, again. “Would you
please see if the woman I was with has returned?”

Mrs. Cribbs had gone to make a hair appointment for me at one of
the most expensive salons in town. Ignoring my protests, she insisted on
booking me with Raymonde, who according to an ebullient Julianna had a waiting
list ten years long. Apparently he worked with Caleb before he hung up his
sniper rifle and picked up tinting gel.

I pulled a navy slip dress over my shoulders and settled it around
my waist. It had a nice flare at the hips and when I twisted from side to side
the skirt swirled around my legs. The ugly pumps would have to be changed to
bright red and I could already envision a red belt and earrings completing the
outfit. I’d found my dress for the town dance.

After changing back into my jeans and tee shirt Julianna informed
me Mrs. Cribbs had returned and my hair appointment was in fifteen minutes. I
rushed to lace my running shoes, grabbed my bag of clothes and found Mrs.
Cribbs waiting patiently for me.

“Come on, dear. We only have a few minutes.” She took the bag from
me and with amazing speed for a woman her size, barreled through shoppers like
an offensive tackle heading for the quarterback. I slid into her slipstream and
allowed her drag me along.

****

After weeks of careful digging and a quiet call to someone higher
up in the Agency, Tank discovered Shelby was in the Witness Protection Program
and Neil was heading it. In the half hour it took him to drive to Neil’s office
he worked himself into a quiet fury.

Barging into Neil’s office, followed closely by his secretary
Bette, Tank enjoyed the look of irritation that swept across Neil’s narrow
face.

“I’m sorry, Mr.—” Bette apologized.

Neil stopped her with a dismissive wave of his hand. “That’s fine
Bette. I’ll handle it.”

Bette backed out of the office and closed the door quietly behind
her. Tank stalked toward Neil’s desk, wanting nothing more than to grab him by
his scrawny neck and squeeze. Sheer willpower had Tank loosen his fists,
determined not to lose his temper. His voice was deadly quiet when he asked
Neil.

“Where is she?”

“I’m in a meeting, Steele. Come back when you’ve calmed down.

Tank glanced over his shoulder and was surprised to see Liz seated
in the plush leather seat facing Neil’s desk. A rueful look on her face, she
shrugged her shoulders. Mentally, he dismissed her. His mission was to find out
where, exactly, Shelby had been placed.

He squared his shoulders. “Your meeting just got a little bigger. I’m
not going anywhere until you tell me where she is. Don’t make me lose my
temper, Neil. You don’t like me when I’m angry.”

There was a long pause before Neil said, “Take a seat.”

Tank slid into the leather chair beside Liz and tried to relax when
all he wanted to do was race out and search for Shelby. She was out there
somewhere. Living, laughing, and breathing.

Without him.

Tank watched Neil straighten some papers and place them neatly in a
folder on his desk. His deliberate ploy to gain control of the situation made
Tank’s blood boil. Tank leaned forward in his chair. “Where is she and why didn’t
you tell me?”

Neil pushed back from his desk and assessed Tank through narrowed
eyes. He tapped the folder on his desk. “She’s in the W.P.P. You know the
rules.”

“Bull shit!” Tank rose to his feet. Liz placed a restraining hand
on his arm and tried to pull him back into his seat. Tank glared at Neil. “You
didn’t tell me because you didn’t want the case compromised. You’re a
pencil-pushing, corporate whore.”

“Tank—” Liz interjected.

He looked sideways at her. Tank realized the folder on the desk was
Shelby’s case and that could only mean Neil and Liz had been discussing her.
Had they ever planned on telling him she was alive? All those months he’d
crawled into a bottle Liz had known and said nothing.

His lip curled in a sneer. “You’re no better, lady. You were in on
it. Did Neil pimp you out to get me back on the case?”

“You’re off base Steele and you know it. Liz did not create this
situation.” Neil’s quiet voice cut like a knife through Tank’s anger. He
shrugged off Liz’s hand and sat back in the chair.

Neil waited a few moments. “We sent an agent to the house. The plan
was to put her into protective custody until the heat died down, but when he
got there it was too late. She’d already been knocked unconscious from flying
debris.”

Tank remembered all the bits of board and plaster that had covered
the driveway.

“He posed as a concerned passer-by and kept neighbors away and
called for backup. The Coroner is one of ours. He took the call and attended
the scene. You were the wild card. Everything almost fell apart when you showed
up, demanding to see the body.”

It sickened Tank when he thought about how close he’d been to her
and hadn’t realized she was alive. He’d touched her. He should have known.

He had only one question when Neil was finished.

“Where—exactly—is she?”

Chapter Eighteen

Loud music blared through the open doors of the town dance hall.
Half-ton trucks, SUV’s and flashy cars filled the parking lot. Laughing couples
and crowds of friends created a living river of people that flowed through the
doors and spilled out onto the street. It looked like everyone from the town
and surrounding county had come to
the
dance, ready to party.

My step was light and I caught myself bouncing on the balls of my
feet waiting for Caleb to lock the truck. We’d managed to snag the last parking
spot at the back of the lot. The music called to me and I couldn’t wait to
dosey-do a few rounds. Caleb had better be a good dancer or he was in serious
trouble.

This dance dominated my thoughts ever since Caleb invited me. I
felt like I was in high school again when Mrs. Cribbs and I went to the ‘big
city’ to find a dress and get my hair cut and styled. She’d wanted me to buy a
pair of cowgirl boots but although I had country in my heart it would not be on
my feet. Snappy sandals completed my outfit.

My hair had grown enough that I could catch it up in a clip with a
few stray curls around my forehead to hide the tiny scar. The only visible
souvenir from the explosion.

Caleb, as always, looked delicious. He had on a crisp cotton shirt
and dark jeans. Normally his boots were scuffed and well-worn, but tonight he’d
exchanged them for a pair of glossy black ones that shone. How he wasn’t
married yet baffled me. Daggered looks were thrown my way, but I ignored them
all and twined my arm through his. We walked to a table, near the back door, and
pulling out a chair he said, “Would you like a drink, Dixie?”

“Sure what do they have?” I plunked myself on the sturdy, wooden
chair.

He looked over to the bar and said, “I see beer.... beer.... more
beer and a poor imitation of wine.”

“Well...let me see.” I cocked my head to one side and pretended to
study the bar. “Let’s try the beer.”

He grinned. “Good choice. I’ll be right back.”

He proceeded to the bar, his stride confident. The men milling
around shook his hand and it was obvious that Caleb was respected and liked by
others. After a short time I looked around the hall. My attention drifted to a
group of girls watching me and then leaning into one another, whispering. One
finally stood and came over. She had a determined look on her face and all I
could think was—this could be fun.

“Hi. I’m Sissy.”

“Hello, Sissy.” I replied, not blinking an eye. Without asking she
sat across from me and waited for me to introduce myself. But I wasn’t ready to
divulge any information to a stranger. Like Caleb said, if they didn’t call me
Dixie, they didn’t know me. Anyone who didn’t know me could be a potential
threat.

“I’ve seen you around town.” She continued after the awkward pause.
“You’re staying at the Circle K Ranch.”

I nodded and found it interesting that this wasn’t posed as a question.
It took all my self-control not to sneak a peek at the bar, wondering how long
Caleb would be and where she would take the conversation.

“Are you family?” She asked.

Now I smiled. Old fashioned jealousy was something I could identify
with. I didn’t bother to reason how I knew about jealousy; I just knew that I
did.

“Nope. Caleb’s a friend.” With perfect timing, the object of our
conversation returned, and set the beers on the table. Droplets of condensation
ran down the outside of the bottles.

“Hey Sissy. How’s your brother? Haven’t seen him in ages.”

Sissy flushed and stammered out, “Brandon’s re-enlisted and gone
back overseas. He should be home this time next year.”

“That’s good to hear. Say hi to him for me. Look, I don’t mean to
be rude, but I promised Dixie a dance.” He held out his hand and I slipped mine
into it, allowing him to pull me onto the dance floor leaving Sissy pouting at
the table.

We’d spun around a few times in perfect unison when I said, “That
was rude, Caleb.”

He sighed and twirled me under his arm, settling it back on my
shoulder, moving forward in time with the two-step. “I know. Sissy’s had a
school girl crush on me for as long as I can remember. I try not to encourage
her...” He let the sentence trail off. I knew exactly what he was talking
about. Regis never took a hint either.

Who was Regis? Although this was another mystery person, the name gave
me shivers, and not in a good way.

****

The D.J. called out ‘last dance’ and we joined a dozen other
couples. Drawing me closer, Caleb’s hand felt warm on my back, his other
holding mine.
Carrying Your Love With Me
played softly and we swayed to
the music around the crowded dance floor.

Somehow we made our way into a quiet, secluded corner. When I
realized where we were, I looked up at Caleb. His face was angles and chiseled
planes. I’d always thought he had the look of a man who could make hard
decisions. A man who would protect me, always.

But right now he didn’t look like he wanted to protect me, because
he kept staring at my mouth. I heard him whisper, “I’ve wanted to do this for
years.”

One big hand cupped the back of my head and the other held my hand
against his hard chest, trapped between our bodies. He dipped his head and was
going to kiss me. I froze in panic. No, no, no. This was all wrong. I shouldn’t
be kissing another man. I pushed at his chest and he stopped, inches from my
lips. For a moment regret flickered in his eyes, but it was gone so fast I
couldn’t be sure.

“I’m sorry, Caleb. Nothing against you, but this doesn’t feel right.
I don’t know why, but I feel like I’m being unfaithful.”

He slid me a look that was hard to decipher and then nodded. His quiet
voice carried above the music and peoples voices in the dance hall. “I know.
Come on. It’s time we headed home anyway.”

We moved off the dance floor and stepped outside. Caleb ploughed
into my back when I stopped suddenly. He grabbed my shoulders to stop me from
falling face first in the gravel walk. “What the…?”

The edges of my vision blurred and everything closed in around me. I
felt myself begin to slump in his arms and fumbled to grab onto anything that
would keep me upright. Caleb wrapped his arms around my middle and huffed me
closer to his chest.

“Dixie?”

I struggled to hold onto his voice, but he slipped further and further
away. I concentrated on my breathing. I would
not
faint in front of the
whole town. Not. Going. To. Happen.

Breathe
. In through my nose, out through my mouth.

Breathe
. In, two three. Out, two, three.

Slowly, the dizziness subsided, but I still had a queasy feeling of
nausea. Caleb by now had carried me to his truck. He reached out and lowered
the tailgate before sitting on it, settling me on his lap.

“Dixie. What just happened?”

“I don’t know,” I said and shuddered.

He started to rub my arms, trying to warm me up. Why did I almost pass
out? Trying to remember brought fresh pain behind my eyes, but I pushed through
the fog, determined to get past this and move on. This almost fainting crap was
starting to tick me off.

A brief vignette played across my memory. As Caleb and I stepped
outside, one of the local girls crawled into a huge truck cab and I saw the
back of a man’s hand when he opened the door. The tattoo inked across it was a
snake. When his hand moved the snake twisted and turned around the bones. I’d
seen a tattoo like that before, I just didn’t know where or when.

What I
did
know was an instinctive reaction to run and not
look back.

“I guess the dance was more than I could handle. I’m not as strong
as I thought.”

“I’m sorry. I should have known better.” He set me on my feet and steered
me over to the passenger side of the truck. “Hop in, we’re going home. You’ve
had enough for one night.”

I wanted to say, ‘No, let’s go for drinks or a coffee.’ But my head
hurt and tiredness swept through me, draining any energy I may have had in
reserve. So I nodded yes and climbed into the truck, falling asleep before we
were out of the parking lot.

****

“Dixie.” Caleb shook my shoulder, “We’re home.”

I opened my eyes, yawned and stretched and saw we were parked by
his house. Caleb opened his door, but my hand on his forearm stopped him from
leaving the vehicle.

“Caleb, wait. You said you’d wanted to kiss me for years. I’ve only
been here for a few months. Mind explaining that to me.”

I thought he’d never answer he took so long. “I wished I’d met you
first.”

“First? What do you mean?”

He sighed heavily. “It’s a long story. You and another girl were at
a beach party a couple of years ago. Before I had a chance to even meet you, Ta—,
Jake had you in his sights.”

“Jake?”

“He was my partner. We were in town on a case and after he met you,
he told the bosses he’d relocate to the Chicago office. He wasn’t going
anywhere. You got married real fast, lived together for about a year and then
split. You were working the case with him, and I don’t know much more than that.
I haven’t heard from him in months.”

“So this Jake, he’s the agent who was staying at my house when the
explosion happened?”

“Yeah, we got him away from the house in time, but not you. I’ve
been told he was pretty torn up.”

This made me feel better. At least someone cared I’d died. “Does he
know I’m alive?”

“No one knows you’re alive except me, the W.P.P. team and my
immediate supervisor. We have to do that, for your own safety.”

“Will Jake be told, now that there’s been a break in the case?”

Caleb opened his door and turned to look at me through the cab, his
expression hidden in the dark. “Most likely. There’d be no reason to keep it a
secret.”

Walking into the house and to my room I thought about what Caleb
said. I’d been married, to Jake, which meant I must have loved him at one time.
One would assume we’d been intimate. So, why couldn’t I bring his face to mind?

And saying the name Jake was like saying Tom, Dick, or Harry. I
sighed and got ready for bed. Tomorrow was a big day. Mrs. Cribbs, satisfied
with my burgeoning culinary skills, was finally going to part with her prize
winning jelly recipe. I could taste the sweetness already.

Teeth brushed, night cream on, I crawled into bed. My mind was
drifting and I was at that stage where you’re almost asleep, when I slammed
awake.

The beach party from my dream!

Caleb said he first saw me at a beach party and I’d been dreaming
about that for weeks. Could the man I’d seen myself walking and making love
with be Jake? If he was, why did I cry out the name Tank? I punched my pillow
into a different shape and tried to go to sleep.

Tank, that wasn’t a name, it was a thing. I mean, really, who called
themselves Tank?

I sat up again. Caleb stumbled over Jake’s name. He’d started to
say one that started with the letter ‘T’. My hand instinctively went to my hip,
touching the tattoo. Could it stand for Tank? Groaning, I flopped back onto my
pillow. I’d apparently been married to an undercover agent, who’d probably
killed—I stopped right there. If my world got any more twisted, I’d have to
write a book. No one lived this kind of life. It was too surreal.

I lay for a long time, waiting for sleep to steal me away.