Pink Neon Dreams (33 page)

“And you had a nightmare last night before the phone call.”

“I did,” she said. She hated to even think about the awful,
jumbled images.
 
Remembering brought cold
chills.

“So we have to change what can happen, together.” Luz’s voice
carried a quiet calm but beneath it, Cecily sensed a raw, basic fear.
 
“You know what you have to do, don’t you?”

Her own anxiety notched up from simple to complex, from low
level to high alert. “No,” she said in a choked whisper. “I don’t. I hoped
maybe you could tell me.”

Luz sat up straighter and leaned forward. “You need to go to
him, to Daniel.
 
You have to be there.
It’s got to be you.”

Icy tingles moved down her spine. “I wanted to go with him, but
he said to stay here.”

“I know.
 
He had to go
alone and so do you.
 
If you don’t, I’m
not sure how everything will happen, but it won’t be good, not for your cousin
and not for my son.”

Cecily believed it.
 
Terrible truth resonated through her body. “I’ll go.
 
I’d do anything for him.”

“I know,” Luz said and tapped the center of her chest. “I knew
it here when I saw you.”

As willing as she was to go, the logistics seemed difficult.
“How will I get there in time when he left so much earlier than I can?”

Blue eyes, hard as sapphires, stared. “You used to travel a
lot, didn’t you, when you were a rich man’s wife?”

She had—but someone usually handled all the arrangements.
 
Most of the time, Johnson Hamilton, evil
asshole, had. “Yes but I didn’t book the flights.
 
I can go online, I guess, and try.”

“It’s done,” Luz said. “I may not be educated and I’ve never
been rich, but I booked you a flight direct to Chicago, then another to Branson
airport.
 
You’ll arrive in Branson two
hours after Daniel reaches Springfield, but it seems like he’ll have to drive
to get there.
 
You’ll be a few miles from
your store and you’ll make it in time.”

Amazed at the woman’s confident handling of the situation and
calm presentation, Cecily gaped, stunned speechless.
 
Not only were she and Luz agreed action must
be necessary, Luz set everything into motion.
 
The faint hope she’d felt when she tapped into Daniel’s consciousness or
believed she did expanded and grew. “So when do I leave?”

“Soon as Michael returns to drive you to the airport,” Luz said.
“It wasn’t much of a list.
 
There’s
something else you need to know.”

“What is it?” Cecily found her feet and stood up.

“My Comanche grandmother gave me a knife a long time ago, when
I was a child,” Luz said. “It was old then, handed down from one generation to
another in our family.
 
I gave it to
Daniel when he first became an FBI agent.
 
He should still have it and I think it’s with his stuff in Branson,
maybe at your house.
 
The handle is made
of a deer’s antler and the blade is stone, flint-knapped.
 
Before you go to your shop, you need to go
get it. Do you know the knife I’m talking about?”

I remember it.
 
I saw it in his bag along with his tequila
and other stuff.
“Yes,” Cecily said, swallowing around a hard lump in her
throat and pulling the words out of the tight concrete of her chest. “I do. But
what do I do with it?”

“You’ll know when it’s time,” Luz said.

“But you know now?” It didn’t seem fair if she did.

Luz’s dark bun moved as she shook her head. “No, I don’t but
they do.”

Almost afraid to ask, she did anyway. “Who are they?”

Daniel’s mom shrugged. “The spirits,” she said. “The ancestors
or the dead, whatever you want to call them—it’s the same no matter what name
you use.”

Their eyes met and held in silent communication.
 
The unmistakable sound of a truck’s engine
spoiled the quiet.
 
“Go get whatever you
need to take with you,” Luz told Cecily. “Michael’s back and I’ll have him
drive you to the airport in just a minute.”

Uncertain what to take, what to leave, she changed clothes and
grabbed her purse.
 
Cecily tucked her
phone into the bag and returned to the living room.

Luz shooed her out the door and just as she climbed into the
truck, the woman called her name.

Cecily turned back. “What is it?”

“When Daniel calls, don’t tell him you’re on the way.
 
He mustn’t know or he’ll lose focus.
 
And,
chica?”

“Yeah?”

“My son loves you very much and he can’t afford a broken heart
if he lives so be careful.”

She nodded, unable to say anything and held back the knot of
tears balled up in her throat until her plane ascended into the bright, clear
skies above El Paso.
 
Cecily didn’t look
down or back as she wept and saw nothing but sunshine through her tears.

Chapter Eighteen

Walking away from Cecily proved to be difficult, one of the
hardest things he’d ever done, but Daniel did so with cold, steel in his step.
He didn’t look back at her—if he had, he would’ve been tempted to take one more
kiss or hold her again and he couldn’t.
 
His
head throbbed with a tension headache and he felt like shit warmed over.
 
Although Daniel refused to acknowledge to
anyone and to himself only in extreme circumstances, he possessed a faint
inkling of his mother’s intuition.
 
Dark,
dire possibilities tormented his consciousness, but he refused to consider any
other action.
 
No matter what happened to
him, he had to take Johnson Hamilton out of the equation to protect Cecily.
 
As long as he could accomplish that task, he
would accept any fate.

Once in the air, he started to call her and then stopped
dialing.
 
So much to say but he’d said it
all and repeating it might cause heartaches.
 
Instead, he dug out some ibuprofen and washed them down.
 
I’ll
call her when I get to Dallas.

Between, he needed to form a plan and as much as he hated it,
he needed to call Martin.
 
When the
tablets eased some of his headache, he pulled out the cell he’d bought in
Branson.
  
From memory he dialed Special
Agent
In
Charge Martin’s number and waited.

“It’s about god damn I heard from you,” Andrew Martin growled
into the phone without bothering with a greeting. “I thought you went fucking
AWOL.
 
Where in the hell are you and
please tell me you’re bringing the woman in.”

He’d expected the harsh response so it didn’t sting much.
 
In a calm, deliberate voice Daniel replied, “Which
question do you want me to answer first?”

“I don’t care as long as I get answers.”

“Okay,” Daniel said. “I’m not AWOL, I’m on my way back into
Branson, and Cecily isn’t with me.
 
Good
enough?”

“Hell no!”
The irritation in Martin’s voice came through with clarity.
“If you want to keep your career with the bureau, you’d better stop dancing
around and tell me what the hell’s going on with you.”

Holy shit, time to tell the truth and shame the devil, he
thought as he inhaled a few slow, deep breaths. “Cecily Brown’s innocent,” he
told his boss. “She didn’t kill her ex-husband or have anything to do with the
crime.
 
And she didn’t take anything out
of the safe.”

“Let me guess,” Martin said, voice thick with sarcasm. “I
suppose she told you so?”

Anger almost won but Daniel checked his tongue until he could
answer without heat. “Listen, you don’t have reason to believe me or Cecily,
but it’s not what you think.”

“Uh-huh.”

This time, he couldn’t contain some rage. “Look, asshole, Cecily’s
cousin’s been taken hostage by the son-of-a-bitch who iced Bradford and robbed
the safe.
 
He took jewels and cash.
 
He came hunting Cecily because she’s the one
person who could point a finger in his direction. I’m headed for Branson hoping
to nail him before he kills Nia.”

After a long pause, time enough to count past ten, Martin said,
his tone much different. “Wait, you’re telling me there’s a suspect?
A viable one?
Who is he?”

“His name’s Johnson Hamilton.
 
He was Bradford’s personal assistant with access and knowledge to the
safe, to the house, all of it.
 
And he
had a vendetta going against Cecily,” Daniel said.
 
He kept what he knew as concise as possible.
“Hamilton tracked Cecily to Branson and found her cousin instead.
 
He called this morning, wanted Cecily to show
up or he kills Nia.”

“Wait a minute—you heard this call yourself?”

“Damned straight I did,” Daniel said. “And he admitted to
killing Bradford.”

“So why in hell isn’t this Brown woman with you? Isn’t she
supposed to be the bait to draw the un-sub out?”

“If he gets to her, he’ll kill her.”

“Aren’t you there to stop it?”

In a voice as low as a bass rumble, Daniel said, “I’m not
taking the chance, Martin.
 
I called you
so maybe you could put a team together. Maybe send me some agents out of
Springfield or at least some local cops so I won’t go in with my balls in one
hand, my gun in the other.”

“You assume a lot for a rogue agent,” Martin said but without
heat.
 
Daniel knew the man well enough he
thought he heard a little admiration. “You’re risking it, without the woman,
but I suppose you know that, Padilla?”

“Yeah, I know.”

A bitter-flavored chuckle came over the airwaves. “Just tell me
one thing. Is she worth it?”

“Yes,” Daniel said without hesitation. “She is.”

“Damn,” Martin barked. “All right, then. So, get to Branson,
but don’t go in without back-up.
 
I’ll
need to know time, place, and all the details, but I’ll get something set
up.
 
You’re going to need proof to nail
the bastard, Padilla.”

“I’ll get it,” Daniel said. “I’ll call when I hit Branson.”

He ended the call and leaned back in the seat.
 
Now he needed to hear Cecily’s voice, but he
wanted to talk to his mama, too.
 
He
dialed her number and Luz answered almost before it rang.

“
Mi hijo
,” she said.
“Are you in Dallas yet?”

“No, I’m still in the air. Everything okay there?”

“So far, it’s good,” Luz replied.

“Let me talk to Cecily.”

“She’s not here,” his mother said. “I sent her somewhere with
Michael.
 
Call her cell phone if you
can’t wait.”

Something’s not right.
He felt it, deep in his bones like the ache of arthritis. “Mama, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Luz said, just a little too quickly.

“Is she sick?”

“No, she’s not.
 
Cecily’s
fine,” his mother said. “Are you all right?”

Not by a long damn shot, but he didn’t care to share at the
moment. “
Si
, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You sound strange.
 
Vaya con Dios, mi hijo
.
 
Be careful and call me when it’s over.”

“Mama?”

“I’ll talk to you later, Daniel.”

Disconcerted by the call, he called Cecily.
 
Her phone rang several times and he expected
to reach voice mail.
 
Nervous and more
than a little worried, he fidgeted, but she picked up at the last moment,
breathless. “Hello?”

“
Querida,
it’s me.”

“Oh, sugar,” she said with warmth. “I’m glad to hear your
voice. Where are you?”

“Almost to Dallas, I think,” he said. “How are you?”

Her soft laughter eased some of his concerns. “I’m good, better
than I was early this morning.”

“I’m glad,” he said and meant it. “So where are you?”

“What?”

“I asked where you are. Mama said she sent you somewhere with
Michael.”

Static rattled between them and her voice faded. “Yeah, she
did, sugar.”

“Where did you go?”

“With Michael,” Cecily said. “Sugar, I love you.”

Damn, he was about to be dismissed like a grade school student.
“You know I love you, too. Cecily, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she said, her tone the same as his mom’s had been,
too fast and a little too smooth. “Don’t worry.
 
I’ve gotta go.
 
Call me later,
okay?”