Stranger At My Door (A Murder In Texas) (12 page)

Rafe stopped talking.

“How does this evening end?” she asked softly.

He released her hand. “We’d parked down the block from the restaurant, so we started walking to the car. It was late, and the street was almost deserted. I heard a car door slam behind us and footsteps coming in our direction, but I didn’t think anything of it. We were both a little fuzzy from the champagne. Then a man said, ‘Die, narc,’ and a gun went off close to me. Sam had been holding my arm, and her hand sort of fell away and slid down my side. When I looked down, she was lying on the sidewalk with a bullet hole—”

Rafe turned away as his voice broke. “—a bullet hole in the back of her head.”

“Oh, Rafe.” She wanted to put her arms around him.

“Don’t.” His voice was rough and hard. “I’m almost finished.”

Dinah stared out from the porch. Sometime between the beginning of Rafe’s story and now, clouds had gathered. The sun-drenched yard had turned gray.

“I turned Sam over. Her eyes stared into mine, but I knew she was already dead. The guy was still standing there, and his gun was pointed at me. He was skinny and sweaty, and his eyes were bugging out of his head. They’d sent a freaking addict to execute her. Probably paid him with a few grams of meth.

“I pulled out my weapon and aimed it right at his head. I was so pissed. I said to him, ‘You got the nerve to kill me, too, or do you only shoot defenseless women in the back?’ It was like the whole inside of me had exploded into a thousand pieces. There was nothing left to grab onto. I wanted to die, but I wanted to do some damage on my way out.

“The freak turned around and ran, and I chased him. It turned out later my injured knee popped out and I tore a bunch of ligaments, but I was so crazy, I didn’t feel it. I didn’t feel anything. He wasn’t very fast—probably years of abuse slowed him down—and I caught up with him after a few blocks. I didn’t wait to see if he was going to try to shoot me. As soon as he turned around, as soon as I could see his eyes, I shot him in the head. In the exact same place he’d shot Sam, only I’d faced him so the bullet tore though his forehead.”

“You were defending yourself.”

“It felt good, Dinah.”

“Ah.”
That’s
what was bugging him.

“What if that’s who I am?”

“If it were, you wouldn’t be going through this.”

“That’s what the police shrink said, but how do I know I won’t feel the exact same way if I have to shoot a suspect?”

“You’d just watched the woman you loved die in front of you. It was personal. When you’re on duty, you’re just doing your job.” What had it felt like to be loved by Rafe Morales? For that matter, what would it feel like to be loved by any man?

He shrugged. “It’s getting better, the shaking, but I just wanted you to know.”

“Thanks.”

He raised his head and met her eyes. His glittered with a question
. No.
But her expression must have said yes, because he leaned into her and brushed her mouth with his. His lips lingered, bussing her lips again and again until her head began to spin.

She pushed him away. “There are kids running around.”

“Why don’t we go inside?”

“I told you—”

“I know. You don’t date cops.”

“It’s not that, Rafe. I’m a bad risk when it comes to relationship. I like being your friend. I like knowing you’re my friend. I don’t want that to change.”

His mouth slid into a lopsided grin, and her heart nearly stopped beating. “Just so you know, I enjoy a challenge. Besides, I feel like my luck is finally changing. Maybe it’s because of you.”

He stood and fished around in the cargo pocket of his shorts. His hand emerged with a new cell phone. He handed it to her.

“I bought you this. It’s on my account, so don’t go crazy downloading everything under the sun.”

“Rafe, no.” She tried to push it away.

“No bullshit, Dinah. You will take this phone, and you will keep it on your person at all times. It’s small enough for your back pocket or your purse. Do not leave the house without it. Promise me.”

He was right. She took it.

Chapter Seventeen

“Miss Dinah?” Hollyn’s voice sounded far away.

Dinah pressed the cell phone closer to her ear. “Where are you? Is the baby coming?” Hollyn had gone to the clinic for a doctor’s appointment early that morning. Suppertime was coming on, and Dinah hadn’t heard from her all day.

“Can you come get me?” Hollyn wailed. “I’m so scared, I don’t know what to do.”

Dinah glanced at the caller I.D.
Texas caller.
A pre-paid phone. When the hell did she get herself a phone? Warning quivered through her, then she dismissed it. Since she’d found Lonnie she’d been a little jumpy.

“Calm down, honey lamb. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Daisy, who had been snoozing beside Dinah, raised her head and growled. After two days living under the same roof, Hollyn and Daisy had made an uneasy peace, giving each other wide berth and the occasional sneer or growl from the safety of an adjoining room. Nevertheless, Dinah would be relieved when Rafe found a new home for Daisy.

“Please, Miss Dinah. I think the baby’s coming, and I’m all alone.”

“Where are you?”

“About fifteen miles west of El Royo, just off the main highway. I’m standing by a dirt road, and there’s an old white house. You can see it from here.”

“How the hell did you get all the way out there?”

“My boyfriend changed his mind. He came back to get me. Said he was sorry.”

That was a relief. She’d worried Hollyn’s story about the uncle was just that—a story, and Dinah would have to find a place for Hollyn to live when she sold the bungalow. “Where’s your boyfriend now?”

“I don’t know. I started getting these sort of pains in my stomach, and he freaked out and drove off to get help. He dropped me off near this old house and left me his phone.”

“He left you out in the middle of nowhere?” Dinah was incredulous. Even if he’d given her a phone, it was still a low move. “Why didn’t he take you to the hospital?”

“Uhh, he drives a motorcycle. I was afraid to get on it, uh, because of the baby coming and all.”

Once a jerk, always a jerk. Dinah had learned that lesson well herself. “He should have called for help and waited with you.”

“We didn’t think of that.”

Dinah gave up. “Tell me where you are, and we’ll come get you.”

Hesitation passed through the phone like a cool wind.
What did I say?
“Are you bringing Mr. Rafe?” Hollyn’s regard for Rafe was not much higher than her regard for Daisy Mae.

“Why would you think that?”

“Well you said ‘we’ll come’, and I don’t want him thinking I’m just a dumb girl. Mr. Rafe doesn’t like me much.”

“I was referring to the dog. Daisy Mae howls when I leave her at home.”

Hesitation turned to hysteria. “Oh, no, Miss Dinah. Not the dog. She’ll bite me. What if the baby comes out, and the dog tries to eat it?”

Daisy rested her snout on Dinah’s knee and gazed up at her with velvety eyes. Dinah patted her head. This gentle creature would never hurt a child. On the other hand, there was an angry welt on Hollyn’s leg that proved Daisy had an aggressive side.

“I’ll come alone. The dog can stay here and keep an eye on the house.”

“Thank you, Miss Dinah. Please hurry.”

The sun had dipped on the horizon forcing Dinah to squint as she wove through El Royo. Her gas gauge shivered just above empty, and the road ahead still shimmered with the daytime heat. Not ideal circumstances for rescuing a woman in labor.

Hollyn. For a kid who knew how to take care of herself, she sure could be naive. Maybe teenagers just got that way sometimes. Dinah had plenty of her own crazy moments back then. Not that she’d matured much. Still. That no-good sidewinder had run off and left his girlfriend pregnant and homeless and darn near penniless. Hollyn should know better than to take him back.

Her eyes darted to the rearview mirror. Her backpack rested on the back seat. Inside, Rafe’s cell phone was charged and ready. At least if she got stuck, she could call for help.

She eased up on the gas and coasted down a hill. Every drop of gas was precious. Besides, the house would be coming up soon.

Just before a crossroad, she spotted Hollyn. For a pregnant lady with labor pains, she sure looked spry, jumping up and down on the dilapidated porch. She waved her arms over her head.

“Careful there, lady. You’re going to lose the baby if you keep hopping around like a jack rabbit,” Dinah muttered.

The house was situated a good quarter-mile off the main road, surrounded by plane trees and overgrown bushes. Past the trees, wheat-colored grass and scrub stretched as far as the horizon. In the distance, fence posts signaled the far boundaries of Osito.

She steered the car onto a rutted dirt road. Her car bounced and rattled along the tracks, and bits of gravel popped from her tire treads and pinged against the underside of her sad, worn-out car.

From the porch, Hollyn watched Dinah park the Honda and get out. She pressed her hands to her swollen belly. “Hurry, Miss Dinah.”

Dinah jogged through the overgrown grass and skirted a wide tree. To her left, a thick bush rustled and shook violently and a movement caught the corner of her eye. Then someone grabbed her arm and held her. A sharp pain shot through her shoulder muscle.

She jerked her head around. “Wha—” An unseen hand drew a dark sack over her head. She tried to jerk her arm away, but whoever was holding her was stronger than she was. Hollyn’s boyfriend? She’d give anything to have her little pistol right now.

The sack was hot and smelled metallic and sweaty. She opened her mouth. The cloth pushed against her teeth and stuck. She spit and the wet material clung to her chin. But at least she could talk. “I’m Hollyn’s friend. I’m here to help her.”

“Ten. Nine.” A harsh male voice counted near her ear. The accent was local, the tone familiar, but the thick cloth over her head muddied the sound.

“Let me go. Why are you doing this?” She flailed at him until he grabbed her other arm.

“Eight.”

A dot of white light appeared against the dark sack. It grew larger and began to spin out in wide circles.

“Seven. Six. Five.”

Everything went black.

…

A thick fog swirled around her. There were voices but she couldn’t catch their words. Heavy footsteps, an argument. A woman’s voice, or maybe it belonged to that boy who broke into her house the night Teke died. It was muffled and angry, scolding. A man answered, slow and deliberate, patient, maybe condescending. The higher voice again. Angrier than before. Royally pissed. Then the fog crept closer, and Dinah drifted away.

She woke suddenly. The sack was still over her head, but her senses had cleared. She was in a house or a barn or something with walls and a roof. They’d lassoed her to a chair, a hard-backed one if she read the ache in her shoulders and ass right. Her legs were lashed to the chair legs, and her chest and arms were roped to the back. When she tried to wiggle in her seat, her shoulder muscles burned from the strain. A crazed thirst thickened her tongue.

They must have drugged her. But why? What about Hollyn? Had they hurt her?

The cell phone. It was in her car. “Keep it on you at all times.” Rafe had told her true. Why hadn’t she listened? When they found her body, at least he’d have the satisfaction of knowing he’d been right.

“Help.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. She jerked hard in her chair. One chair leg scraped against the floor.

Muffled voices spoke softly. A key jingled in a lock. Dinah tensed as the door creaked open. Heavy boots entered the room, echoed unevenly on thin floorboards. Had he injured himself when he snatched her?

“Finally woke up, huh?”

That same harsh, but familiar tone.
He’s disguising his voice. He knows me.

“Why are you doing this? Did I do something wrong?”

“I’ll ask the questions.”

More footsteps, and he was standing beside her. The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

“What did Ben tell you?”

Not this again. Who was still around who cared? Teke and Lonnie were dead. No, not just dead, murdered. Gerry was in a wheelchair. There had to be someone else with close ties to the robbery, but she couldn’t think who.

She played for time. “Water.”

“Answer me. Then maybe you’ll get something to drink.”

“My daddy didn’t tell me anything.”

Through the sack, a rough hand grabbed her ponytail and yanked. Her scalp burned. “Answer me.”

How drugged did he think she was? He wouldn’t hurt her as long as he believed she was the only living soul who knew where the money was. A little hair pulling trumped maybe getting her bones picked over by vultures.

“My daddy never…said.” She croaked the words.

Thwack!
He cuffed the side of head. Her ear rang before she felt the pain.

“Tell me where the money is.”

Her throat was too raw for a long argument, but he wasn’t going to believe anything she said anyway. She clamped her mouth shut and shook her head.

Her skin began to tingle with the anticipation of more physical punishment. She felt a whoosh beside her ear as he drew up his hand. Involuntarily, her shoulders hunched together to ward off any blows. Then he sighed heavily, almost theatrically, and stepped away.

“I didn’t want to shoot you full of truth serum again. Gave you too much before, and you passed out on us. But I got no choice.” His boots receded.

If he drugged her, and she told him she didn’t know anything, he’d believe her, and she’d be of no use to him. “Wait.”

The boots halted and scraped against the floor as he turned. “Better make it good.”

A perverse sense of power made her try again for the water first. “My throat. I can’t talk.”

The boots were in motion again. Then the door creaked, and she was alone.

Desperation awakened every muscle and brain cell in her body. Her hands tugged at the ropes, her fingertips felt for a knot, her feet tried to wiggle out of their bonds. But progress was slow. She could barely move, and the knot in the rope was nowhere near her hands.

Her brain was working, too, trying on arguments and discarding them. The best she could come up with were her father’s dying words. They proved she didn’t know anything.

You won’t know where it is…[sounded like] under nose. Think…historic [indecipherable] where [sounded like] moon [indecipherable]. [Tuesday, 06:07]

You must make this right, Di. [Indecipherable]…careful. Trust…no one. Take the gold…straight [indecipherable] in Austin.

She’d read and reread those lines at least a dozen times, but even his clues were inscrutable.

The door hinges squeaked, and her captor came into the room again. “I brought you some tea.”

He approached her slowly.
He’s hiding something.
But blind and bound, she couldn’t think what he’d be hiding or why. Maybe her intuition was haywire. Drugs and fear could do that.

He was beside her. His knees creaked as he stooped down. A cup clunked against the floorboards. A hand lifted her hood from her mouth and nose, but kept it pressed firmly against her eyes. The fresh air was cool against her skin, and she breathed deeply. The room smelled woodsy and a little musty. Like a log cabin. There were a few hunting cabins around the county. Maybe they hadn’t taken her far.

“Drink this.”

A cup touched her lips, and tea filled her mouth. The liquid soothed her burning throat and washed away the fuzziness. She gulped greedily.

“Careful, now. You don’t want to go overboard.” The gruff voice was at her ear.

Her initial thirst sated, she took a polite sip. The taste of garlic filled her mouth
. Damn it all to hell!
What was in the tea? She turned her head in his direction and spit.

A fist connected with her cheekbone, and her head snapped back. “Bitch!”

“What did you give me?” Dinah demanded. But she already knew. It was the truth serum. Sodium pentothal or something like it. Same as in the pan at Lonnie’s house. Her head began to spin although whether it was the slug or the drink, she couldn’t make out.

“Tell me, bitch.”

She had to get him out of the room so she could work on the ropes. She let her head sway as though she was in a haze and slurred her words. “My father left a letter for me. It was about the money.”

“A letter?”

“With his prison things.”

“There was no letter with the box from Beeville.”

How the hell does he know that?
“There was. It’s at home. I put it inside the doll on my shelf. Go see for yourself.”

“You better be telling the truth.” He stomped out.

Dinah’s head pounded and her cheek felt stiff and swollen, but there was no time to waste. She began to push outward with every ounce of strength she could muster.

Dinah’s arms ached from pushing against the rope. Her wrist was raw and bleeding from clawing at the knot. She’d managed to wiggle one leg free, but it was a hollow victory since her other three limbs were firmly lashed to the chair. She could have made a little more progress if one captor hadn’t stayed behind.

From the voices and the footsteps, it appeared to be the boy who had driven off, kicking up dirt and stones under the car tires as he raced away. The man’s footsteps, one foot heavier than the other, paced back-and-forth.
He’s nervous.
Maybe that was a good sign.

Dinah had just gained a hard-won inch on the rope when a cell phone rang out in the next room. She stilled.

“Yeah?”

Dinah recognized the voice. Gerry Sutton. But it couldn’t be. Mr. Gerry could barely walk. Right?

“Thought you said you looked.”

It sure sounded like Mr. Gerry. Maybe he’d gotten better when no one was paying attention.

“Read it to me.”

The scrape of a chair. He must have sat.

The other one had apparently found the letter. Where was Daisy Mae? She sure didn’t mind taking a chunk out of poor Hollyn’s leg, but apparently any old stranger who happened by was a good friend. That dog was a puzzle.

“Yeah, got it.”

The uneven footsteps approached, then the door opened, and Mr. Gerry came in. She played dumb. “If you let me go I promise not to say anything about this. I couldn’t identify you anyway. Just untie me, and I’ll walk out of here. You’ll never see me again. I swear.”