'Don't talk, Kerney, listen. I'm pissed at you and this whole situation. I think you just want me only for sex, or for carrying your child, or for occasional companionship when I can fly in on one of your rare free weekends.'
Kerney's cheerfulness evaporated. 'What are you talking about?'
'I should have been there today for the house siting, not hearing about it on the other end of a phone call. I should have been there because it's supposed to be our house. I don't think you give a damn about me. You've just got this fantasy going about a wife, a family, and a ranch, not necessarily in that order.'
'That's crazy. I thought you said you couldn't get away between now and graduation.'
'Of course I can't get away,' Sara snapped. 'That's not what I'm talking about. You could have waited. What's one month? Shit! I hate to curse. Shit, shit, shit.'
'Why didn't you tell me this before?'
'I shouldn't have had to. It should have been clear in your mind that it was something we needed to do together.'
'I've just been trying to move things along.'
'Why? So it can all come together perfectly according to some master plan? The house gets built, the pregnant wife appears, the baby gets born.'
Stunned by the criticism, Kerney tried again to explain. 'I just wanted to have everything ready for you and the baby.'
'The place you're renting is more than adequate for us.'
'You're being wrongheaded about this.'
'Wrongheaded? If I'm so wrongheaded why do you even bother to know me?'
Kerney heard the phone go dead. He dropped the receiver and stared at it, pulled his hand back from it. Now, he was pissed-beyond belief pissed. He was a jerk, a dummy, an unfeeling, inconsiderate SOB. A bum for wanting to make Sara happy.
Where had all this come from? A few hours ago she was laughing on the phone, talking excitedly about the house plans, consulting the architectural drawings he'd sent her, and asking questions.
The phone rang and Kerney picked up.
'Do you want to talk?' Sara asked.
He could hear her crying. 'Yes, of course.' A long silence followed, punctuated by Sara's sniffling. 'Are you still angry?' he asked.
'I'm hurt, not angry.'
Kerney's indignation abated. 'I had no intention to hurt you.'
'I know that. But sometimes you get so single-minded I want to give you a swift kick.'
'I think you just have.'
'I guess I did.'
'Are you all right?' Kerney asked.
'No, I'm hormonal, pregnant, lonely, exhausted, and wondering what's in store for us.'
'A good life together,' Kerney said, trying for something upbeat.
'Yeah, the rare times we're together.'
'We still have to work that out.'
'Yes, we do. If you want me to raise this child on my own, tell me now.'
Her words hit Kerney like a sucker punch. 'Hold on a minute.'
'Do you?'
'Never, dammit.' He heard her intake of breath followed by another silence.
'Okay.'
'What do you want?' he asked.
'I'd like to reach out and touch you in my bed tonight. Oh, never mind. I have to go. Good night.'
'Sara, don't hang up this way.'
'I'll be fine.'
'I'm not sure I will,' Kerney said.
'I wouldn't embarrass myself by crying at you over the telephone if I didn't love you. My nose is running, my eyes are red, and I need a big hug.'
'Do you want me to fly in this weekend?'
'No, I won't have a spare moment.'
'Okay.'
'Just say good night,' Sara said.
'How about if I say I love you, instead?' Kerney countered.
'That will do nicely.'
'I love you.'
'Me too,' Sara replied.
He held the dead phone in his hand until a recorded message urged him to hang up. Then he poured whiskey into a glass and stood on the patio staring at the hill behind the house in the darkness. He felt angry, hurt, above all misunderstood. Suddenly, he was dissatisfied with himself, with everything.
He sipped the whiskey. The quarter moon and the star-filled sky couldn't hold his interest. The stiff cold breeze against his face felt insignificant even though he started to shiver. The whiskey burned his throat.
Was he really so unfeeling? Pigheaded? Inconsiderate? How could Sara ever think that he would want her to raise their child alone? Was she sending him a message? Had she decided to keep her commission and stay on active duty after her maternity leave?
Confused, Kerney went inside and tried to get his head straight, although he didn't hold out much hope that it would happen easily.
Thomas Deacon was a little high and a little horny. He sat close to Ramona on a couch in his living room, occasionally letting his leg touch her knee as she looked at the enlargements she'd asked him to make. His leering smile made her want to slam his face into the hardwood floor.
The room was decorated with mismatched furniture, cheap throw rugs, and shelves made from concrete blocks and boards, which held a large number of videotapes within easy reach of a VCR and big-screen television. There wasn't a book in sight.
'You've got a good start on a portfolio,' Deacon said. 'But it's only a start. We need to get you in some evening wear, swim suits, lingerie, and do some location work.'
'Oh, I'd love to do that,' Ramona said.
'You gotta learn to play to the camera,' Deacon said as he leaned closer, sounding every bit like a Dutch uncle offering friendly advice. 'How to use your face and your body.' He ran his finger across Ramona's cheek. 'You've got the right bone structure for the camera, and Hispanic women are a hot commodity right now.'
'Can I see some of your location work?' Ramona asked, maintaining her eager smile.
'Sure, why not,' Deacon said, getting to his feet. 'But don't get ahead of yourself. That's not gonna be happening until you're about to graduate from the program.'
Deacon swaggered his way into the studio and came back with some photo files. Ramona fed his ego with compliments as she looked at the pictures. She paused at the photograph of Sally Greer posing on the patio of the Santa Fe-style house. The one Deacon said he'd shot at the Indian resort and casino outside Ruidoso. Ramona knew better: she'd been to the casino and it didn't look anything like an adobe hacienda.
'Do you always go to the same places with Cassie's students?' she asked.
'Pretty much.'
She tapped Sally's photo. 'I have this really sexy little black cocktail dress. Maybe we could do something high-class at a place like this. You said I needed to get more comfortable in front of the camera.'
'I thought you were short on money,' Deacon said.
'I'm starting a new job in a week at The Players Club.'
Deacon licked his lips. He'd figured all along that Bedlow had an agenda for the bitch, but hooking her up with a job at The Players Club sealed it. Bedlow and Tully were gonna turn this sweet thing into a whore, just like they did with Sally Greer and some other prime tail.
He put his hand on her thigh. 'Yeah, you could use the practice.'
Ramona ignored Deacon's hand and held up Sally's picture. 'Is this place nearby? It looks like it was taken in
