Blue Jeans and a Badge (8 page)

Damn!
He wanted Luce with him.

No way he'd let her leave town before getting her here at least once. Preferably about a hundred times.

What the hell had happened tonight? Why her sudden urgency to get out of town?

It was because of what Ted had told her. That's when it had all started, when she'd seen the uncanny resemblance between her and Maria Hidalgo. Something about that woman had triggered Luce's desire to flee. It was weird.

It was also weird that Ted's old murder case was connected to their two new cases by none other than good old Clyde Tafota.

Philip grimaced in the dark. He should set aside his mind-numbing craving for Luce and instead try to untangle the growing knot of coincidences surrounding Clyde. Attempt to make some sense out of them. If he found those answers, he'd have the ammunition to get her to stay with him. At least long enough to track down Clyde.

He closed his eyes, struggling to relax and do his job, to do what he did best.

Unfortunately, try as he might, nothing came to him. Hell, even if he could concentrate, he realized he just didn't have enough facts to make the puzzle pieces fit.

Tomorrow he'd take a drive down to Hidalgo Industries in Santa Fe, dig around a little there. See if anything popped up about Clyde and that missing plane. He couldn't imagine Tafota was involved in stealing military weapons technology, but hey, he would never have pegged him as being involved in a robbery or a St. Louis drug shooting, either.

Yeah, tomorrow that's what he'd do. But before hitting the
road south, he had one other stop to make first. At the Lakeview Motel.

He thought about the handcuffs hanging from his rearview mirror and set his jaw determinedly. He'd hate to use them on her. He really would.

But he had no intention of leaving her behind for this little excursion. She'd just have to wait another day to make her escape.

Tomorrow she was going nowhere—not without him.

 

The next morning on the way to the motel, Philip prayed Luce hadn't taken off at the crack of dawn. Well, actually, it still
was
the crack of dawn. He wasn't taking any chances.

He patted the back waistband of his uniform slacks, where he'd clipped the handcuffs.

She'd still be there. She had to be.

“Ready?” he asked without preamble when she answered on his second knock. Better to play this cool.

She eyed him and his full uniform warily. “Come to arrest me?”

She was already up, dressed in jeans and a sleek red sweater, and her suitcase and briefcase were sitting by the door. He'd gotten there just in time.

“I thought we'd drive down to Santa Fe today,” he said removing his hat, “and pay Hidalgo Industries a visit.”

“Philip, I told you I was leaving this morning.”

“You didn't mean it,” he informed her implacably.

“Is that so?”

He walked past her into the middle of the room, turned and regarded her, hands on hips. “That's right.”

She licked her lips. He could tell he'd surprised her this time.

He decided to go the logical route. “You keep saying you're not afraid. Of me or that newspaper photo. If that's really the case, then why run away?”

“I'm not running away.”

He hiked his brows at her packed suitcase. Standing in the doorway, she mirrored his hands-on-hips stance—though hers lacked the added authority of his side-holstered pistol.

“Look. This is a perfectly reasonable business decision. It has nothing to do with you, or a twenty-eight-year-old murder.”

“No? Seems to me the guy you're hunting is still at large. And we just got a major clue to tracking him down. What part of that is not running away?”

They stared at each other for a long moment. He got the depressing feeling he was going to lose this discussion. Luce was not a woman easily pushed or intimidated. Not that he was trying to do either.

Okay, maybe he was trying to do both, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted her too badly.

Just then her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her back pocket. “Yeah?” she said without taking her eyes off his.

After a few seconds she said, “Still on the milk carton. He may have a plane and skipped the country.”

For a minute or two she listened wordlessly to what the caller was saying. Philip figured it was her boss with some kind of update.

She had a pretty good poker face. If he hadn't been watching so carefully he'd have totally missed the flash of reluctance, then disgruntled acceptance that zipped across her face.

“Okay, Arthur,” she finally said, jaw tight. “I'll let you know.”

Good old Arthur. Philip wanted to hug the man.

“Shall we?” he asked, strolling back to her. He held the door open as she snatched up her briefcase, then closed and locked it securely behind them before getting the Jeep door for her.

She looked angry.

No, it wasn't anger. More like worry…creeping toward panic.

Secretly, he smiled to himself. Panic was good. Because he knew damned well she wasn't the type to feel panicked about her job. Her job was her life. So only one thing he could figure, it must be
him
she felt panicked about.

Because she wanted him as much as he wanted her. And she'd just lost her best chance for escape.

Oh, yeah. She was as good as his.

 

“So. Hidalgo Industries,” she said as she tossed her briefcase in the back and stowed her weapon in the strong box. One thing about the woman, she bounced back quickly. “You've got a plan?”

He turned the Jeep south. “We need to find out the connection between the missing plane and Clyde. If the Hidalgo people think he took it. His possible motive, destination, etcetera.”

“Right.” She leaned her head on the seat back.

“Bad phone call?” he ventured after a bit, curious as to what had changed her mind. He was man enough to admit it hadn't been him. This time.

She puffed out a breath. “My boss calling to remind me there are only four days left before he has to pay out on Clyde's forfeited bail.”

“How much?”

“Thirty-five thousand.”

“Ouch.” Philip put two and two together. “And he's counting on you to save his skin.”

“I don't get paid, either, if I don't bring Clyde in before the deadline. Besides, I hate letting Arthur down. He's like family to me.”

That last would neatly explain why she was still here. And the worried look on her face. “I trust it works both ways.”

“It does.”

“Good.” Hopefully more like a kindly uncle than a kissing cousin. Better yet, a portly grandfather.

Philip glanced at his watch, shaking off a momentary stab of jealousy. “It's still pretty early. I thought we could stop in Taos for breakfast.”

She rolled her head and gave him a dry smile. “Good thing we're doing so much walking on this case, or I'd gain about a hundred pounds the way you're feeding me all the time.”

“I like feeding you,” he admitted. The memory of her eating from his fork last night drifted through his body, making his throat ache. “I suppose it's a guy thing.”

She chuckled. “You Tarzan, me Jane?”

“Something like that.” He slanted her a look. “Don't you like me taking care of you?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Why not?”

Her gaze slid downward, avoiding his. “I should take care of myself. I'm perfectly capable, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. But…?”

Her tone turned reluctant. “It's kind of nice. As a change.” She lifted a shoulder. “And you seem so determined to do it.”

He checked his side mirror to hide his smile. “Then why not enjoy it? What's the problem?”

She studied her feet. “I'm worried about what you want from me in return.”

“You mean your body?”

Her eyes widened at his bluntness.

He reached out and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. “Luce, if you share your body with me, I want it to be because you want to,” he said. “Not because you feel obligated. I'm not like that.”

“I know you're not,” she said, and fell silent.

He didn't push it, because he believed she really did know that about him. And, despite his earlier handcuff fantasies, he truly wanted her to make up her own mind. He just wanted her to choose to be with him.

He didn't know what he'd do if she decided not to. He may have to reconsider those cuffs….

He wasn't too worried, though.

After all, he had the whole day to convince her.

H
aving a plan always made life easier.

Too bad Philip couldn't formulate a rational one concerning Luce Montgomery.

After breakfast they sped toward Santa Fe and their appointment with Hidalgo Industries. As he drove, Philip waffled between two different options. Option one: mount an all-out campaign of seduction on Luce, or option two: take his time and insinuate himself deeper into her feelings, eventually winning her that way.

The last option was probably the more honorable, but he might not have enough time to make it work. They could find Clyde in the meantime, or she could change her mind again and leave at any moment.

Not to mention the fact that he'd tried that strategy before, with the woman back in California, and it had backfired on him big-time. Her new lover had used the first option and succeeded in just two days, where it had taken Philip months to fail miserably at the second.

He was even less certain what he'd do with Luce's feelings if he actually managed to swing them in his favor. The very least he could do was take them seriously.

Was he ready to get serious with a woman again? Any woman? To take the chance that once again it might all go south? Nurse another broken heart as he watched her wave and take off to parts unknown at the next emotional crisis?

The whole thing scared the scrap out of him. Maybe seduction was the way to go, after all.

Yeah, option one. Seduction was the best plan.

 

Philip had deliberately worn his full-blown police uniform to this interview because Hidalgo Industries was used to dealing with the military, and regardless of his qualifications they would probably disregard a law enforcement official wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He also thought it might offset any misgivings they had for him bringing along a bounty hunter on an official inquiry.

He just hoped going to Hidalgo Industries wouldn't upset Luce any more than she already was about Maria Hidalgo. With any luck, they'd run into some of the rest of the family, and she'd see for herself any resemblance was purely coincidental, putting to rest any residual worries she might still harbor about that.

And if not… Hell, he'd just have to ask Ted to look at the lost toddler situation a bit more carefully. He didn't believe the little girl could possibly have survived, let alone have ended up in St. Louis. But he knew crazier things had happened in this world.

The uniform strategy worked. They got in immediately to see Senior Vice President Anna Hidalgo.

He could see Luce was trying not to stare, but was having a hard time of it. Anna Hidalgo was younger than he'd expected for a VP, maybe midthirties, and dressed in an expensive-looking business suit that had to have come from New York, if not Paris.

She also had light-brown hair.

After introductions she ushered them into her plush office, and said, slightly puzzled, “Please, have a seat. This is about our missing Beechcraft airplane? I thought the Taos County Sheriff was handling the case.”

“Well, we're actually here about the airplane's mechanic, Clyde Tafota.” Philip quickly outlined what he and Luce were after. “And we're interested in your opinion as to whether Mr. Tafota was involved in the theft of your plane.”

Anna Hidalgo leaned back in her stylish office chair and steepled her fingers. Philip didn't see a striking resemblance between her and Luce, but they didn't look strikingly different, either. He wondered what relation the VP was to the dead woman.

“Naturally, we believe the shipment of missile guidance chips was the real target of the thieves,” she said, “and the plane just went along for the ride, if you will.”

“How bulky was the shipment?” Philip asked.

“There were four packing boxes of components, each measuring two feet by two feet.”

“Were they heavy?”

She tipped her head. “About twelve pounds each. Why?”

He glanced at Luce. His gaze seemed to jerk her out of some disagreeable inner thought. “Not very big or heavy,” she remarked, surprising him that she'd actually been following the conversation.

“No,” he agreed, and turned back to Ms. Hidalgo. He'd better keep the lead. Luce looked like she was about to bolt at any second. “Those cartons would be easily transportable without taking the plane,” he observed.

Ms. Hidalgo considered. “Well, that's true, I suppose.”

“Was there anything else onboard?” he asked. “Something of value besides the shipment?”

She looked baffled. “Not that I can think of. Are you saying you think the plane
wasn't
stolen because of the chips?”

He shook his head. “Not necessarily.” Then he asked her
a few questions about Clyde and his employment record with Hidalgo, which seemed to be straightforward and uneventful.

“Still, the timing works for him to be involved. The plane disappeared the night after the robbery at the Soffit and Dickson Law Offices.”

“I can't imagine Mr. Tafota would be involved in either the chip theft, the office robbery or anything else criminal. He's been a model employee for over thirty years,” Ms. Hidalgo said.

“I agree it's not his style. And his family hasn't noticed anything out of the ordinary, which you'd think they would if he'd made such a sudden change in ethics.”

“I just can't see him stealing a plane with a military shipment on board. He'd have to know that would involve significant federal charges. It would make no sense if the other things you're looking at him for aren't that serious.”

Philip tended to agree, and he said so. “But maybe he's been dragged into something against his will. Do you happen to have a photo of the plane? I'd like to fax it around to various airports with Clyde's picture to see if they've been spotted.”

“Of course, but the sheriff's already doing that. I gave them one when I reported the theft.”

“If they're following the chips, they'll be concentrating on different locations. I'd be following Clyde.”

Ms. Hidalgo nodded and opened a desk drawer, extracting a printout showing a small aircraft in side and top views.

He stood and took it from her, glancing at Luce. She sprang to her feet, as well, shifting back and forth as Ms. Hidalgo came around her desk to escort them back to reception.

“Would you mind if I asked you a personal question?” Luce blurted out as they walked down a thickly carpeted hallway.

Again, Ms. Hidalgo looked surprised. “Well, I—”

“Are you related to the woman they found out in the desert? Maria Hidalgo Santander?”

A sad smile came to the other woman's face. “So you heard about that? Yes. Unfortunately, Maria was my aunt. Though I was too young at the time to remember her or her husband, Peter. I was only four or five. A horrible story.”

Luce looked as if she was about to ask something else, but just then a man burst out of one of the offices along the hall.

“Anna!” he nearly shouted, despite being only a few feet away.

“¿Sí, papa?”

The older man, apparently her father, spoke to her in rapid Spanish, none of which Philip understood. At first glance he'd thought the father was gray-haired, but with a start realized his hair was ash blond. It was strange hearing such fluent Spanish being spoken by a blond. It didn't sound like the usual California or New Mexico Hispanic Spanish he was used to hearing, either.

Ms. Hidalgo turned to them. “May I present my father, CEO of Hidalgo Industries, Donald Hidalgo.” She introduced them in turn. “They're looking for Clyde Tafota.”

Donald Hidalgo spun to them abruptly, pinning Philip with an assessing glare. When he saw Luce his face froze, and Philip could swear it went a shade paler.

But Hidalgo recovered quickly. “Tafota?” he snapped, eyes narrowing. “What do you want with him?”

Philip offered his hand politely, but kept his silence, counting on Ms. Hidalgo to fill it. Which she did, explaining their presence and interest.

“In the future, I'd prefer all inquiries to go through our attorney,” Donald Hidalgo stated in a flowing, sophisticated English, then strode back into his office. He didn't once look at Luce again.

“Sorry about that.” Ms. Hidalgo continued toward reception. “My father has been under a lot of stress lately, what with the theft of the shipment and the investigation of his sister's murder.”

“No problem.” Philip put a hand to the small of Luce's
back and urged her along when she just stood staring after Donald Hidalgo. At the front desk he passed Ms. Hidalgo his business card. “Please, give me a call if you think of anything else.”

He propelled Luce out to the Jeep with an arm around her shoulders. She didn't object, so he knew she must be miles away.

“Okay,” he said when they got there. “What gives?”

“Did you see them?” she asked edgily.

“What?”

“The pictures. In her office.”

He was embarrassed to admit he hadn't noticed any pictures out of the ordinary. Just some family photos on Ms. Hidalgo's desk. “Uh, no. What were they?”

“Family photos.”

“Okaaaay…”

“Half of the people in them were light-haired. Even some blondes.”

“Ah. Like Donald Hidalgo.”

She locked eyes with him. “They all looked like me,” she said, almost desperately. “Not exactly like me, not like Maria. But close enough. I could be…”

“A long-lost cousin,” he completed when she didn't.

She squeezed her eyes shut, wrapped her arms around her midriff, and let out a soft noise. Suddenly she started walking away. Rapidly. Increasing to a run.

He was so stunned that for a moment he didn't move.
Not again.
Where the hell was she going?

He took off after her. “Luce!”

“Go away!”

“Luce, stop!”

“No! I have to leave.”

He caught up to her easily. He grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her rigid body. She was panting. And trembling.

She struggled against his hold. “Let me go, Philip.”

“I have no intention of letting you go anywhere.” He cursed when her foot whacked into his shin.

“I don't need you!”

“Damn it, woman! I swear I'll get out the handcuffs!”

She made one last attempt to wriggle out of his arms, then the fight went out of her. She sagged against him, burying her face in his neck.

“Why?” Her voice was muffled, her breath hot against his skin.

“Because I care about you,” he said. “You may be able to run away from me and our attraction, but you can't run away from this.”

“I don't know what you mean,” she muttered.

The woman had some major denial issues. “If you think these people are your birth family, you have to do something about it.”

“They're not my family.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I just am.”

“Then what in the world has you so upset?”

“They're not my family,” she repeated, and for a moment he didn't understand. Then he got it.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, and hugged her closer. He could think of any number of arguments he could present on both sides, but experience had taught him a thing or two about women. Right now was not the time to convince her she needed more information to go on before making that decision.

He kissed her hair. “I know just what you need,” he said.

“Oh?” She raised her head. Her expression was skeptical, but at least the look of desperation had fled. “And what's that?”

“You need to go shopping.”

Her forehead pleated in surprise. “Huh?”

“Come on. Let's be tourists.”

Hidalgo Industries was on the outskirts of Santa Fe, so he
drove first to Starbucks and double-parked while he jumped out and bought her a decaf mocha latte with double whipped cream, and then to the lot next to St. Francis Cathedral.

Personally, he hated shopping, and he'd long ago made the rounds of the Santa Fe historic district with its tasteful Southwestern galleries and artsy-fartsy clothing and jewelry boutiques. However, Luce needed a break from reality, and if there was one thing his mom and sister had taught him it was that for most women, shopping cured a multitude of ills.

They strolled around the Plaza where street vendors hawked their wares from Mexican blankets on the sidewalk, and through the pricey but fun and colorful shops that lined the narrow, uneven streets around it.

His uniform drew stares from the other tourists, which Luce played up by insisting he buy a pair of those silver reflector aviator-style sunglasses and donning them. She thought it was a hoot. At least she couldn't see him roll his eyes. And he'd put up with anything if it made her smile.

In return, he made her try on about a hundred embroidered dresses and woven tops and velvet skirts with concha belts, in twenty different stores. It didn't take long before Luce totally forgot her threat to escape custody as soon as she got the chance for a clean getaway.

In one patchouli-scented, meandering boutique, she tried on a particularly luscious number made from some silky grape-colored material that clung to her curves like a second skin and made him seriously think about peeling it off her an inch at a time.

“You should buy that one,” he said with a whistle, lifting his aviator glasses for a better look.

She gave a humorous snort while admiring it in the mirror. “Yeah, right. It would cost me half the finder's fee for Clyde.” But he could see she was tempted. He was more than tempted. Her eyes met his in the reflection and skittered away. “Besides—” she touched the teeny straps and low neckline “—it's too cold this time of year for a dress like this.”

“Funny, it has the opposite effect on me,” he remarked, coming up behind her. “It's definitely warming me up.”

“Philip,” she warned on a whisper as he reached out and grasped her hips, tugging her back against him.