The Marriage Profile (13 page)

“Erica? Did you hear me?”

“What?” Erica asked, realizing she'd tuned her mother out.

“I asked whether or not your friend Mr. Del Brio will be coming by to see his little girl.”

Erica gritted her teeth, wishing now she could have come up with another story to explain showing up at her mother's with the kid half the town had been searching for for the past few months. Mary Lynn Clawson had bought her song and dance about Frank being the kid's father and how the mother was dead and the woman's family was trying to keep Frank away from his daughter. She could only be grateful that her mother was such a soft touch for a sob story and gullible enough not to find the holes in that story. “No. I told you the kid's relatives have detectives watching Frank. If he comes there to see Lena, they'll follow him and take her away. And Frank will never see her again.”

“That's such a shame. Well, at least you'll see her when you come. Poor little thing, I think she misses having a mama. It'll be good when Frank gets custody and then you and he can get married and you'll be her mama.”

Over her dead body, Erica thought. She intended to marry Frank, but no way was she going to play mama for his ex-girlfriend's kid.

“You will come by tomorrow with the things I need, won't you, honey?”

“Yeah. I'll come. But I've got to go now. Remember, if that woman comes back or anyone else shows up around the place, you make sure you and the kid stay out of sight and call me right away. Got it?”

“I understand. But don't you worry. I'm not going to let anyone take Mr. Del Brio's little girl.”

“Thanks, Mom. I'll talk to you later.” After ending the call, Erica opened the door of the office she'd snuck into in order to use the phone and checked to make sure she hadn't been missed yet. Then she closed the door and dialed Frank's private phone.

“Yeah.”

“It's me. We've got a problem. That woman psychic that was with Ricky Mercado the other night at the hospital dedication was snooping around my mother's place a little while ago.”

“Did she see the girl?” Frank asked, his voice deadly cold.

“No. My old lady turned off the lights and the woman must have thought the house was abandoned because she turned around and drove off.”

“That place is in the middle of nowhere. There's no way she could have found it on her own. Someone must have followed you there,” he accused. “I told you to be careful, that you might be tailed.”

“I wasn't tailed,” she fired back, resenting the fact that he thought she'd screwed up. “And no one followed me out there because I haven't been to my mother's for more than a week.”

“Then how do you explain her finding it?”

“How do I know?” Erica countered, doing her best to keep the edge out of her voice. “Maybe that stuff about her being psychic is true. Anyway, I thought you ought to know, especially since she's so friendly with the Mercados. I know how much you'd hate for anyone to mess up your plans.”

“You're right about that. I've got too much invested in this to let someone screw it up now,” Frank told her, his voice hard and flat. “You just make sure your mother keeps her mouth shut and stays out of sight with the kid.”

“She will, Frank. You don't have to worry about that,” Erica assured him.

“Good. You keep trying to find out what you can on that waitress Daisy at the club. I need to know if she's Haley.”

“I'm trying,” Erica told him, annoyed by his obsession with Haley. “But it isn't easy. She doesn't talk very much.”

“Then try harder,” he ordered.

“What about that Mason woman? What if she goes snooping around my mother's place again?”

“You let me worry about Angela Mason. I'll see to it that she's taken care of.”

“A
ngela, it's Justin again. Since I'm getting your machine, I guess you're still out.” After a pause he continued, “Listen I'm sorry we haven't been able to connect all day, but I've been tied up. Anyway, I've got some info that could lead to a break in the case. It's too complicated to go into over the phone, so I'll explain everything when I see you tonight. Unfortunately, that's going to be later than I'd hoped. First, I've got to make a speech at a fund-raiser at the country club. But I'll get away as soon as I can and then meet you at your place.”

After another pause and the closing of a door, he added, “Angel, I really am sorry that I left you hanging like this, especially after last night. But it just couldn't be helped. I promise, I'll explain everything when I see you. Bye.”

Angela raced through the front door of her condo. Dumping her purse, keys and other items onto the counter, she hit the playback button on the answering machine even as she dashed up the stairs to change clothes. Ditching her jeans, shirt and boots, she grabbed the first dress in her closet while she listened for the second time to the messages on her machine that she'd retrieved via her cell phone less than thirty minutes ago. Two calls from Justin telling her he was tied up and one from Ricky advising her that he'd pick her up at eight o'clock for the fund-raiser tonight.

She pulled off her socks and tugged on panty hose, then
slid the dress over her head and zipped it up the back. Returning to her closet, she found her heels and was just stepping into them when she heard the new message from Justin.

Angela groaned. Grabbing the phone, she punched in the number at the Wainwright Ranch again, but the phone rang and rang with no answer. She ended the call and tried his office.

“Lone Star County Sheriff's Office.”

“Hi, this is Angela Mason again. Is Sheriff Wainwright in?”

“Sorry, hon. He's not here. You might want to try him on his cell phone.”

“I'm afraid I don't have that number, could you give it to me?”

“Can't do that, I'm afraid. But I'll tell him you called.”

“Thanks,” Angela said, and hung up, wishing she had thought to tell Justin this morning that she had committed to go to the fund-raiser tonight with Ricky. But then, this morning her head and her heart had been much too full of Justin making love with her to be able to think about anything else.

Angela freshened her lipstick. Sighing, she ran a brush through her hair and reminded herself once again that just because they'd spent the night together didn't mean that Justin felt the same way as she did. There were still problems between them that needed working out. But surely she wasn't wrong about them connecting on some new level last night.

She thought of how tentative their relationship was at the moment and worried at Justin's reaction to her arriving at the club with Ricky. She wasn't blind to the fact that Justin disliked Ricky and had never approved of her friendship with him. Maybe she should try the club, see if
Justin was there and explain that she'd said she'd attend with Ricky before last night. And for the briefest of seconds she considered canceling on Ricky. Just as quickly she dismissed the idea. She'd promised herself when she'd left Mission Creek five years ago that she wasn't going to ever again try to be someone she wasn't. If she and Justin had any chance of ever making it together as a couple, he would have to accept her for who she was. And she was Ricky Mercado's friend.

At the sound of the doorbell announcing Ricky's arrival, Angela gave herself a once-over in the mirror and decided she would have to do. But as she headed downstairs to greet Ricky, she was struck by a sense of foreboding about the night ahead. Telling herself she was just nervous, she dismissed the apprehension and hurried to answer the door.

“Hey, you look great,” Ricky told her as she opened the door for him.

“Thanks. So do you.”

“We're running a little late. I got tied up with some family business and wasn't able to get away sooner, so do you mind if we just split?”

“No, not at all.” Because the sooner she got to the club, the sooner she could find Justin and explain.

“Is it too soon to ask if you've been able to come up with anything about the kidnapper or where they might be keeping the baby?” Ricky asked once they were inside the car.

Angela felt a twinge of guilt as she thought about the sketches she'd made last night and her promise to Justin not to tell anyone. “I've already explained that I can't share any information with you about this. It's one of the conditions I agreed to.”

“Just where does Wainwright get off dictating what you and I can or can't talk about?”

“It's an official investigation,” she reasoned.

“That's not why he's doing it, and you and I both know it. It's because the man hates my guts, and he doesn't like the fact that you and I are friends.”

Angela suspected there was more than a small measure of truth in the accusation. But it didn't change the fact that she'd given Justin her word. “If my not sharing information with you about the kidnapping is going to be a problem, maybe you should turn the car around and take me back home.”

Ricky whooshed out a breath. “It's not going to be a problem,” he said. “I'm sorry if it seemed like I was pressuring you. It's just so frustrating…this not knowing if the kid is Haley's or not. Or if Haley really is alive or if I'm just deluding myself.”

“I understand,” she said, and she couldn't blame him for his frustration.

“I guess, regardless of whom she belongs to, the important thing is that you find the little girl.”

“I intend to do everything I can to do just that. And so will Justin and the FBI,” Angela promised as she leaned back against the seat while Ricky headed toward Mission Creek. She knew it wasn't much of an answer, and she suspected it did little to ease Ricky's concerns. And despite the fact that Ricky Mercado was a man who was used to demanding answers and getting them, he didn't press her further.

While they continued to speed toward the city in silence, Angela took the opportunity to study Ricky. He had changed since that summer when she had first met him when they were both in their teens. Her father had shipped her off to spend two months at the home of a former church member who had moved to Goldenrod and whose wife needed help with her children and home after surgery.
The Mercados had lived just down the road. She'd had a particularly rotten day, messing up by telling the people she was staying with where a missing paper was when she shouldn't have. It had freaked them out and made her feel more alone than ever. Ricky had happened upon her at the creek where she'd run off to. She'd been crying and feeling as though she had nothing to look forward to except a life of more rejection. But instead of making fun of her for sobbing and feeling sorry for herself, Ricky had comforted her. They had been friends ever since.

And even though they had remained friends all these years, she had never kidded herself about Ricky, Angela admitted. As a teenager he had been cocky, rough around the edges, a boy who danced on both sides of the law. The man was still cocky, still rough around the edges, and she suspected he still danced on both sides of the law. Yet he was different now. More serious, she decided, and wondered if that sober side had something to do with that mission in Central America that he had told her he'd been involved in with Luke Callaghan. Or was it caused by his concern for his father and Ricky's belief that the kidnapped child was his niece, a niece who could possibly lead him to a sister everyone thought dead? Maybe it was a combination of all those things, she conceded. Whatever the cause, the one thing that had not changed about Ricky was his love for his family and his loyalty to his friends. It was those qualities that enabled them to be friends despite their differences. They were also some of the same qualities that she'd admired in Justin. Unfortunately, it was a similarity between them that Justin either couldn't or wouldn't allow himself to see.

Thoughts of Justin had nerves dancing in her stomach again. She was anxious to see him, and almost afraid that she'd only imagined the magic between them the previous
night. Once again she couldn't help wishing that they had talked, that she knew where this thing between them was going. Or if it was going anywhere at all.

“So how are you and Wainwright doing?”

Angela yanked her attention back to Ricky, worried for a moment that she had said something aloud. “What do you mean?”

He gave her a puzzled look. “I was just wondering if he was still giving you a bad time.”

“No. No, not really.”

“That's good, then,” he said, and took the exit for Mission Creek. “I guess I should have warned you that there's supposed to be a big turnout for this thing tonight and Wainwright's probably going to be there.”

“Yes, I know. He…left me a message.”

“I really appreciate you coming with me. You have no idea how much I hate these things, but like I explained yesterday morning, Del Brio made a big deal about wanting to improve the company's image and how Mercado Brothers Paving and Contracting should turn out to support this fund-raiser. Of course, I didn't buy any of it. The man could care less about the company's image and community relations.”

“Then why are you going?” she asked.

“Because I think Del Brio's up to something. I don't know what it is, but I intend to find out. I also didn't want to stir up suspicion by not showing up. As long as he thinks I'm part of his team, I can keep an eye on him.”

“Ricky, if you think Del Brio is going to do something illegal or harmful, you really should go to the police. Or let me talk to Justin for you.”

“No. I'll handle Del Brio myself,” he insisted.

Not a wise move, Angela thought, but decided to remain silent. She knew Ricky was careful about what he told her
and she was equally careful not to allow herself to get into a situation that would compromise her duty as an officer of the law. But she couldn't help thinking that Ricky would fare better were he not so determined to fight his battles with Del Brio alone.

“You know, I was thinking that since there are going to be so many people at the club tonight for that fund-raiser, you might be able to pick up on something. You know, about the kidnapping.”

“I'm sorry to disappoint you, but it doesn't work that way. I'm not going to walk into that country club tonight and suddenly know if someone there kidnapped Lena.” But sometimes she wished it did work that way. It would make the frustration and confusion she often felt when struck by glimpses, as she had last night, easier for her to live with and easier for her to know what to do.

“I know. I know,” Ricky told her as he turned into the entrance of the Lone Star Country Club. “I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I realize it's more complicated than that. All I'm saying is it can't hurt being in the same place where more than half of the people in town are going to be, because you never know if something or someone there will trigger something that might help.”

But as they approached the four-story granite structure that served as the main clubhouse, Angela was struck once again by a sense of foreboding. Even after the valet attendant opened the car door and she'd started up the walkway lined with rose blooms and scented by the flowering shrubs, she couldn't shake the ominous feeling. And the moment she stepped inside the clubhouse, Angela knew with certainty that something terrible was going to happen. And whatever it was, it was going to happen at the Lone Star Country Club tonight.

 

Justin looked at his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes and wished that Maddie would pull the plug on the mayor so that he could give his spiel at the microphone and leave. Chastising himself for his own impatience, he reminded himself that holding this fund-raiser for storm victims at the start of each hurricane season had been his idea. He'd made the suggestion following a category-four hurricane that had nearly wiped out a nearby county last year. The people of Lone Star County had opened their hearts and their wallets to help the crippled community get back on its feet. It had been then that Justin had urged the townspeople to make the fund-raiser an annual event. They had agreed. The need for the fund-raiser was no less important now than it had been when he'd first suggested it, but his eagerness to see Angela made the waiting to get through the evening all the more difficult.

“Are you ready, Sheriff?”

“What?” Justin asked, dragging his thoughts back from Angela at the sound of Maddie Delarue Bridges's voice. Embarrassed, he stared at the events manager of the Lone Star Country Club, noting the twinkle in her eyes. “I'm sorry. Guess I wasn't listening.”

She laughed. “I noticed. And somehow I doubt that it was hurricane relief that you had on your mind.”

“You're right about that,” he admitted with a smile. The truth was his head was already back at the condo with Angela, where it had been for a good part of the day. And Maddie wasn't the first person to notice his distracted manner. What was surprising was that he had ever managed to convince himself that he was over Angela in the first place, when here he was, after only one night with her, and he didn't seem able to go a full ten minutes without thinking about her and itching to be with her again.

Face it, Wainwright. You've got it bad. You may have
divorced Angela, but you never got over her. And you probably never will.

And for the first time in years, he could admit the truth to himself without feeling like an idiot. In fact, for the first time in a long time, he actually was looking forward to taking some time off for himself. For himself and Angela, he corrected.

“You're up, Sheriff,” Maddie told him as the mayor finished his remarks and announced that the sheriff had a few words.