Where There's Smoke (33 page)

"All wells are different."

"Yes, ma'am, I know that.
 
They have personalities and they're constantly changing.
 
Kinda like women.
 
Each well has its quirks and you've got to get to know it real good.
 
Stroke it every now and then."

Janellen ducked her head so quickly that she didn't see that Bowie ducked his, too.
 
Her cheeks turned warm, but since this concerned business, she felt it was imperative to keep the conversation going.

"What's the daily MCF?"
 
Gas was measured in hundreds of thousands of cubic feet.

"Two fifty per day.
 
I figure that well's output ought to be higher."

"We allow for a four to five percent loss, Bowie.
 
Even up to ten.

There's probably a small leak somewhere in the line and the gas is being absorbed into the atmosphere."

He gnawed his cheek for a moment, then shook his head stubbornly.
 
"I think the loss is higher than the allowance.
 
After recording that well for the last several weeks, I think it should be a high gas producer, especially considering the oil we get out of it.
 
Instead, it's one of our lowest."

"You've spent a lot of time studying it."

"On my own time."

Her heart swelled with pride.
 
He was a conscientious employee who did more than was required.
 
Her decision to hire him had been justified.

Even though she appreciated his concern, she felt it was misplaced.
 
"I don't know what to tell you, Bowie.
 
Well number seven produces as we ve come to expect from it."

"Well, I reported it to the foreman, but he just shrugged it off and said its rate of flow has always been low, long as he can remember.

Damned if I can figure out why, though.
 
just one of those worries that grabs hold and won't let go, you know?"

"Yes, I know."
 
She stared into her cup of tea.
 
After a long moment of silence, she raised her head.
 
"There I go again.
 
I can't keep my mind on business.
 
I keep dwelling on that little girl's family.
 
Her daddy does all our dry cleaning.
 
He's a nice, friendly man.
 
I know how devastated he and his wife are, because we felt the same way when Clark drowned.
 
I thought we'd have to bury my mother with "I never had a kid, but if I did, I can't imagine having to put him in the ground." janellen looked at him searchingly.
 
He'd never had a child, but she wondered if he'd ever been married.
 
There were a thousand personal questions she wished to ask him, but couldn't bring herself to.
 
Among those questions was where he had acquired his insight into people.
 
He had an uncanny knack for seeing beyond affectations and straight into the heart and mind of an individual.

Trusting his instincts, she asked, "Bowie, do you think Dr. Mallory did something that caused that little girl to die?"

"All I know about medicine is that there's no real cure for either a cold or a hangover."

She smiled.
 
"I've only seen Lara Mallory in person once, but she looked so .
 
. . so .
 
. . put together."

Everything that I'm not, she thought dismally.
 
Having seen Lara Mallory, she was no longer surprised that Clark had risked everything to be with her.
 
She wasn't merely beautiful.
 
Her eyes reflected compassion and intelligence, and she exuded self-confidence and competency.

Janellen wanted to despise her.
 
She knew that she wouldn't be feeling this ambiguity if Dr. Mallory had come across as an emptyheaded sexpot, all fluff and no substance.
 
Instead, it was quite the opposite.

"I don't believe the woman I met could be negligent."
 
Her conviction surprised even herself and made her feel disloyal.
 
"I know I'm supposed to hate her, but "Who says?"

"My mother."

"Do you always do what your mother says?
 
Don't you ever think different from her?"

"Rarely."
 
The admission made her sound like a wimp.
 
She was probably sacrificing any respect Bowie had for her as an individual and as an employer.

But Lara Mallory's call had upset her terribly.
 
She was past the point of trying to hide her feelings.
 
Propping her elbow on the table, she rested her forehead on her hand.
 
"Oh, God, I wish her affair with Clark had never taken place.
 
He would have enjoyed a successful political career like Mama wanted for him.
 
He even might still be alive.
 
Mama would be happy.
 
And I-" She caught herself before saying that if events had been differenr, she wouldn't feel so responsible for holding things together now.

Seeing to everyone's happiness and well-being was exhausting.
 
It was also impossible.

Ever since the night that girl had come to the door asking for Key, he'd been even more irascible than before.
 
He and Jody hadn't quarreled any more, but that was because each went out of his way to avoid the other.
 
Key answered direct questions in gruff monosyllables.

He was preoccupied with only God knew what, and Janellen didn't dare guess.
 
He stamped through the house with his shoulders angrily hunched, his expression belligerent.
 
He was so unhappy at home that he often left as abruptly as he had appeared.

Now, Lara Mallory had just burdened her with a new source of worry.

Before she realized that she was crying, a tear rolled down her cheek.

"Hey, what's this?"

She sensed the movement of Bowie's arm, but she didn't expect him to touch her.
 
When she felt his callused fingertips against her cheek, she raised her head and looked at him, her lips parting in stunned bewilderment.

She was rarely touched by anyone, and, because she was starved for the touch of another, she reflexively raised her hand and folded it around his.

He went incredibly still.
 
Nothing moved except his eyes.
 
They went from hers, to her hand covering his, then back to her eyes.

Janellen sat just as still as he, but inside she was all aflutter.
 
Her lower body felt feverish, full, heavy.
 
Her breasts tingled and tightened, making her want to press her palms over them to contain the rnsh of excitement.

How long they remained staring at each other she never knew.

She was held in thrall by Bowie's sad, sweet eyes and the pressure of his fingertips, which were damp with her tears.
 
If he hadn't heard Key's car approaching, she might still have been frozen in that tableau when her brother slammed in.

As it was, she hastily shot to her feet and whirled around to greet him.
 
"Key!
 
Hi!"
 
Her voice was unnaturally high and thin.
 
"What are you doing here?"

"When I left this morning I still lived here."
 
He divided an inquisitive look between her and Bowie, who she hoped could conceal guilt better than she.
 
Her face was fiery hot.
 
She knew she must be flushed from her throat, where her pulse was pounding, up to her hairline.

Key took a beer from the refrigerator.
 
"Hi, Bowie.
 
Want a beer?"

"No, thanks."

Janellen said, "I already offered him one, but he wanted lemonade instead."

"I just stopped by to tell Miss Janellen that "He thinks the MCF on well number seven is low and "It's probably nothing, but "He thought we ought to know in case "So I brought it up with Miss Janellen and "And that's what we've been doing.
 
Talking about that," she finished lamely.

"Uh-huh."
 
Looking amused, Key popped open the beer and tilted it toward his mouth.
 
"Well, don't let me interrupt this high-level business conference.

"No, it's all right."
 
Bowie snatched up his hat as though it were a piece of incriminating evidence.
 
"I was just on my way out."

"Yes, he was about to leave when you came in.
 
I'll .
 
. . I'll just walk him to the door now."
 
Flustered and unable to look at either her brother or Bowie, she fled the kitchen and was waiting for Bowie in the entry, holding the front door open for him.
 
She kept her eyes averted as he joined her there.
 
"Thank you for the information, Bowie."

He pulled on his hat.
 
"Just figured it ought to be brought to your attention.
 
It's your money.

"I'll check into it."

"I don't think that's such a good idea."

At the sound of her brother's voice, she swung around.
 
His shoulder was propped against the arched opening of the dining room as he nonchalantly sipped his beer.

"What's not such a good idea?"
 
she asked.

"You checking into a malfunctioning well."

"Why not?"

"As of today, the Tacketts are in the news again."

"So?"

"So reporters are going to be crawling over Eden Pass like ants on a picnic ham.
 
Until a hotter story comes along, that is.
 
When they don't get anything out of me-and they won't-they're likely to come sniffing after you for a statement.
 
Bowie," he said, looking at the pumper, "keep an eye out for her, okay?
 
If she inspects any oil wells, you go with her."

Bowie glanced uneasily at Janellen.
 
"Meaning no disrespect, Mr.

Tackett, but she's the boss."

"Boss or not, do it as a favor to me.
 
I'm asking as her brother."

Again Bowie's eyes darted toward Janellen.
 
She was fuming and didn't trust herself to speak.
 
With uncertainty, Bowie said, "Okay, Mr.

Tackett."

"Call me Key."

"Yes, sir.
 
Well, bye, y'all."

He wasted no time in getting to the company truck and driving away.
 
In fact, he looked grateful to be escaping with his hide intact.

Janellen rounded on her brother.
 
"1 don't need a keeper!"

"Well, I do," he replied, unfazed by her anger.
 
"If a reporter pesters you, I'll go after him wanting to kick ass.
 
That'll create more news and make a bad situation worse."

She resented his taking charge of her employee, of making it appear that she was incapable of taking care of herself.
 
But his explanation was well founded.
 
If a reporter did ambush her demanding a statement, and Key found out about it, there was no telling what he'd do.
 
Once, when she was in high school, she'd come home from a date in tears.
 
Key had almost throttled her terrified escort before she could explain that they'd just seen a sad movie.

Knowing that he was looking out for her best interests, she let her anger subside.
 
"The situation is already worse than you know," she told him.
 
"Lara Mallory called here a while ago wanting to talk to Mama.
 
Dr. Mallory thinks she tipped the media about her being here in Eden Pass."

Key ran a hand around the back of his neck.
 
"Well I be damned."

"Does that surprise you?"

"No.
 
What surprises me is that the doctor and I are beginning to think alike.
 
I also figured Jody was at the bottom of this.
 
I know plenty of smart reporters, but no more than a handful of them knew Lara was involved in the Leonard girl's case; it would have been a bizarre coincidence if one of them had added two and two and come up with four."
 
He looked toward the second story of the house.