His gut cinched. She was sick. He’d guessed right. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing. She wanted to be sure I was taking these.”
He looked down at the white bottle, and two words blazed at him like the tiki torches Laney insisted on.
Prenatal vitamins. He read it over and over. “Prenatal…” His gaze flew to her face. “But I thought…”
“So did I,” she said, tears beginning to spill from her eyes.
“You’re…you’re pregnant?”
She nodded. A sad smile curved her trembling lips.
“But I didn’t think… I mean…” He gulped. “The doctors said…”
“They were wrong.”
He stood there, stunned and silent.
Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “Isn’t it incredible that God gave us a baby, just as you ended our marriage?”
He couldn’t form a thought. Laney was pregnant with their child.
“Laney…”
She shook her head, lips pressed tight together. “This doesn’t change anything, Beckett. Remember your promise. You’re leaving, and you’re not coming back,” she said before she disappeared into the kitchen.
* * *
As she plastered on a smile, passing out the platters of meat and potatoes to the handful of diners, Laney’s insides quivered at what she’d revealed. She hadn’t wanted to tell him, but she knew he’d find out. Worse than having him stick around out of some sort of need to protect her would be him lingering out of guilt.
He’d promised to leave, and he believed it better than tainting her with his reputation. Would he feel the same now that he knew she was carrying their child?
“Doesn’t matter,” she muttered savagely. “He won’t be your husband anymore in a few weeks.” A baby, even from a woman who wasn’t supposed to be able to conceive, wouldn’t change that.
“Snake.”
The word cut through her reverie. She blinked at the woman, taking a few seconds to remember her name. Rita Brown.
“I’m sorry. I was thinking about something else. What did you say?”
The woman lifted a shoulder. “I heard there was a rattlesnake in your van.”
“Yes,” Laney said, wondering how that bit of news had gotten around. “Probably crawled into the camping supplies. The perils of living in a desert.”
“There are a lot of perils here,” Rita said, running a finger around the edge of her water glass.
Laney tried for another smile. “Well, it is one of the hottest places in the world. The record is one hundred thirty-five degrees Fahrenheit. They don’t call it Death Valley for nothing.”
“And you had a murder on the property four months ago.”
Laney stared. “It’s not something we talk about.”
Rita’s intense gaze did not waver. “I heard your husband was out of jail. They mishandled some evidence or something. Word around town is people think he’s guilty.” She cocked her head. “But you don’t think so, do you?”
Now the hairs on the back of Laney’s neck stood up. She lifted her chin. “Can I get you some dessert?” she said stiffly. “Our cook has made a delicious apple cobbler.”
“No, thanks,” Rita said, standing. “I’m not here for the food.”
Rita wasn’t there for the food, nor did she show any particular interest in the area.
So why exactly was she there?
The wall phone rang, and Laney jumped. It rang again and she stared at the old clunky thing. Calls were few and far between, and now two in one day.
Rita’s mouth twisted into a grin. “Shouldn’t you answer that?” she said over her shoulder as she left the dining room.
Laney picked it up, her gaze still following Rita’s departure. “Hotsprings Hotel.”
There was a long pause. “Is this the property owned by Beckett Duke?” It was a man’s voice.
Her pulse ticked up. “Who is calling, please?”
Silence.
“Who is this?”
The caller abruptly disconnected. Laney found that her hand shook as she hung up the phone. She called Jude on her cell and reported the strange incident. He promised to check the phone records to see where the call had originated.
Rita’s prying and the call plagued Laney through the dinner service, or maybe it was Beckett’s agitated presence. It was all she could do to keep away from him, clearing dishes, helping arrange a tour of the national park the following day, preparing the coffeepot for the morning breakfast service. Should she tell him about the call? But the police were investigating, and surely there was no reason to discuss anything with Beckett. The farther she could stay away from him, the better.
At last she saw him stride off toward his tent, and she figured she might have gotten free of him at least for the evening. She knew he probably wanted to discuss the baby, but as far as she was concerned, there was nothing more to talk about. The papers were ready to go to the lawyer; she’d see to that when she had a spare moment. Perhaps she could convince Jude to discuss security plans or some such thing with Beckett and then he’d be cleared to leave, this time for good.
The sun set into a molten swirl of color, and with it went her remaining energy. Admiral’s waggling behind reminded her there was one chore left: secure the gate to the hot springs.
“All right, Admiral,” she said, taking the key ring from the peg by the back kitchen door. “Shall we finish up and call it a night?” She had a new chapter of a travelogue to read and a baggie of vanilla wafers waiting for her, not to mention a nice bacon-flavored chewy treat for Admiral. The old dog waddled along and she kept her pace slow so he would not get left behind or overexert himself.
As she trudged, she let the whisper of cool autumn air revive her. The scenery never failed to lift her spirits as she surveyed the glorious sprawl of the Inyo Mountains in the distance. The vast desert soothed her, as it had since she’d come to live here with Kitty Duke, Jude’s mother. Kitty found her hungry and hopeless, in a Las Vegas bus stop, took her in and found her work at
