'What would have happened to me tonight if you hadn't been there at the hotel, waiting for me in the parking lot?'
'I don't know. That's hard to say.'
'He must have been there, hiding in my room. Would he have killed me if he'd had the chance?'
'Maybe, and then again, maybe not. We still don't have any idea what he was after, but my guess is that they think you have something, maybe something damaging to the whole operation.'
'But I haven't.'
'That doesn't matter, as long as they think you do.'
'So why am I scared now, hours after it's all over?'
'For one thing, it's not all over. If they still believe you have whatever they were looking for, you're still in danger. Stay alert, and don't fault yourself for being jittery after the worst of the action seems to be over. It happens that way sometimes. When you're in the thick of things, you're too busy to be afraid. Fear comes later.'
She turned to face me. In the pale glow of moonlight shining through the window, her face was unnaturally white, eyes wide open. I reached out my hand and caught hold of her narrow wrist, feeling the pulse imprisoned within it.
'It's all right to be scared,' I told her. 'It's a normal reaction.'
'Were you scared out there in the car when he was after us?'
'Shitless,' I answered.
'What about now?'
'It's worse now,' I said, suppressing a grin.
She snatched her hand away and leaned closer, peering at me closely in the hazy light. 'Worse? Really? Or are you making fun of me?'
'I'm not making fun,' I said. 'Women scare me a whole lot more than 4-X-4s.'
For a moment she looked hurt, then angry, then a tiny smile tickled the corners of her mouth. 'You mean to tell me you're scared of me?'
'Absolutely. Out of my wits. Shouldn't I be?'
Within seconds, we were both laughing, giggling first then laughing uproariously, rolling on the bed, holding our stomachs, and gasping for air. When we finally quit laughing, we were still lying on the bed, facing each other. Neither one of us made a move to get up. Within moments I moved closer, folding her in my arms.
It was the most natural thing in the world.
CHAPTER 17
I slept, content in the knowledge that whatever incursions booze may have made against my liver, other pieces of essential equipment, unlike Calvin Crenshaw's, remained totally unaffected. I awoke to the sound of small scratchings, rodent sounds, only to discover that Rhonda Attwood, sitting curled up in the high wing-backed chair beside the window, was busily sketching away.
'Coffee or orange juice?' she asked, not looking up. 'Ralph already brought us both. He's out cleaning the pool.'
It was only to be expected that Ralph Ames was already up and on duty. He evidently also knew where Rhonda had spent the night. 'Coffee,' I said, a little sheepishly.
'Okay. Just a minute.'
She finished what she was doing, examined it critically at arm's length with a slight frown pursing her brow, and then put the sketch pad on the table next to her. Pouring two cups of coffee from a stainless steel carafe, she padded barefoot across the room to the bed. She was wearing a knee-length blue nightshirt with Mickey and Minnie Mouse emblazoned on the front. Her hair was tousled, but from the strained lines and shadows around her eyes, I suspected she hadn't slept nearly as well as I had.
'What are you working on?' I asked, taking one cup of coffee off her hands.
'Nothing much.' Careful not to spill her coffee, she lowered herself onto the bed beside me. 'Just a sketch.'
I reached over and let my hand fall on the smooth firm curve of her thigh. It rested there for some time, and she made no effort to move it away. Closing my eyes, I lost myself in the miracle of an instant replay until she jarred me out of it with a softly voiced question.
'Will you drive me down to Sierra Vista today?'
Surprised, I opened my eyes and looked at her. 'To Sierra Vista? Why?'
'Because I've got to talk to Guy Owens.'
I sat up in the bed. 'I thought we already went over that. Your chances for persuading this guy are nil. He's one angry man.'
Rhonda Attwood's blue eyes filled with tears. 'I can try, I've got to try. Don't you understand? Joey was all I had, my only child. I was never able to have another one after he was born, even though I wanted one and tried for years. This baby, Michelle's baby, is part of me, too. I can't just turn my back and let it go. I can't.' The last sentence was a strangled sob.
When God gave Eve the ability to cry, he stacked the deck against us. It hasn't been a fair fight since. I'm impervious to lots of things, but a weeping woman isn't one of them. Besides, Rhonda Attwood could easily have gone off on her mission alone, without telling me. My masculine pride was honored that she wanted to have me along.
'All right, all right,' I said, knowing perfectly well that I'd been manipulated and sounding suitably crotchety. 'I'll drive down there with you, but don't count on it doing much good.'
Smiling through her tears, Rhonda Attwood leaned over and gave me a quick peck on the side of my neck. 'Thank You,' she said, 'I'll go shower.'
Gracefully she eased herself off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. I drank my coffee, listening first to the rush of the shower and later to the hum of a blow-dryer. When I finished draining my first cup, I slipped on a pair of shorts and went over to the table to pour a second. The sketch pad was lying right there next to the carafe. I couldn't resist the temptation to pick it up and see what she'd been doing.
It was spooky-almost like looking in the mirror. The penciled sketch staring back at me was me. My eyes, my nose, my ever-increasing forehead. I was still standing there holding it when the bathroom door opened. I jumped as though I'd been caught doing something I shouldn't afraid she'd be offended by my prying.
'You have good features,' Rhonda said, stopping in the doorway. 'Strong, masculine features.'
Never at ease with compliments, I turned it aside with a question. 'How do you do that?'
'Do what?' she returned. 'Draw?' I nodded, and she shrugged. 'I don't know. It's something I've always been able to do, from the time I was little. You don't, I take it?'
'Not me, not at all, I wouldn't have the foggiest idea how to go about it.'
Rhonda smiled. 'That's all right. I wouldn't have known how to drive the car into the pickup's tire, either, so we're even.'
There was a knock on the door. 'Are you two decent?' Ralph asked, in his unflappable manner. 'There's a call for you, Beau.'
I opened the door and took the cordless handset. 'Hello.'
'Beau, it's me, Delcia. They've got him, the guy from the truck. Phoenix P.D. picked him up a little after midnight, but I didn't find out about it until just a few minutes ago. Somebody neglected to call me.'
'They caught him? Who is it?'
'I don't know yet, but according to the detective who called me, he's already got himself a very high-priced defense attorney, and he refused to say word one without his attorney present.'
'So this is someone who knows the ropes.'
'Sounds like.'
'Do you need us to come down there with you? I only got one look at him in the headlights as he was going ass-over-teakettle into the water. I'm not sure whether or not I could identify him.'
