Trail of Lies (5 page)

“No, it wouldn't,” Melora said without thought.

He frowned. “You forget I've looked at the books and know what's going on. I didn't turn it over to William without watching out for your interests.”

But if something illegal was going on, she didn't want her uncle tied up in it. She forced a smile to her lips. “You know nothing has to be settled right away. We have plenty of time to figure out what to do with the business. Maybe after the holidays.”

As he smiled the sparkle in his dark eyes showcased the appeal her uncle could exert effortlessly. His dignified look combined with his tall stature commanded people's attention when he entered a room. Much like Daniel did. Like at today's committee meeting. Even though Hank hadn't gone along with what Daniel had requested concerning the Alamo celebration, she'd seen the respect in the older man's expression when dealing with Daniel.

“Why are we in here,” Uncle Tyler waved his arm toward the office, “when I can smell Juanita's delicious roast?”

“Before you came, I was in here thinking about what to do with Axle's personal belongings now that he's officially dead.”

Bushy white eyebrows slashed downward. “What?”

Melora laid her hand on his arm. “I know how much you liked Axle, but I've got to move on.”

“Are you getting rid of all this?”

“Probably not right away but after the holidays. I don't want to disrupt Kaitlyn's Christmas. This past week has been tough enough on her.”

“And not you?”

She didn't want to lie to her uncle, but neither could she tell him the whole truth. “When Axle didn't come home, I felt something was wrong. After a year, I came to accept that he was gone—probably dead. His body being found actually brought some closure for me.” Suddenly, she had a thought that slammed into her like the intruder who had tackled her to the floor. What if she found Axle's flash drive? What would she do with it? Whatever she did could have far-reaching consequences, and above all she could never put her family in danger. She would have to consider it carefully.

Melora backed out of the office and closed its door as though if she didn't see Axle's possessions she wouldn't be faced with the dilemma. “You're right. We can wait to talk about the business and Axle's things. Dinner should be ready. I know how much you like Juanita's cooking.”

“Sometimes I can't believe you persuaded me to let you hire Juanita away from me.”

She was thankful every day that he'd graciously giving his blessing for Juanita to come to work for her. The housekeeper had been the only person who knew what had really
gone on in the house with Axle. That she and Axle weren't the perfect couple they had presented to the world. That her marriage had been held together with threats.

As they entered the kitchen area, Kaitlyn stood by the pet door. Her mouth dipped in a frown. “Patches still hasn't returned. Should I put his food in his bowl?”

“Go ahead, honey. He may come back while we're eating dinner and want his own.”

“Okay.” With one last look at the pet door, Kaitlyn trudged toward the utility room, her shoulders slumped.

“What's wrong?” Uncle Tyler asked as he watched his niece disappear.

“Patches hasn't come home. She's worried.”

“Does he often stay out this late?”

“Not usually. But you know cats are independent, especially male ones.”

Kaitlyn reentered the kitchen as Juanita placed the sliced roast on a serving platter. “Dinner is served. Kaitlyn, you need to wash up.”

Melora held out her hand to her daughter, saying, “Let's go do it together,” and made her way toward the mudroom.

Inside it she looked at the entrance that Daniel used to bust into the house two days ago. There were no signs of forced entry now because the door had been replaced with a steel-reinforced one—not one easily kicked in. As she turned on the water for her daughter, she wished she could forget that day, but she couldn't. The young man she'd seen watching her today only supported that.

 

The next morning after Juanita left to take Kaitlyn to school, Melora sat at the kitchen table drinking a cup of tea and trying to decide what she should do. Uncle Tyler again told her right before he'd left last night that he didn't want to
see her sell the restaurant chain, but if she was determined to, that he would buy it. She didn't want her uncle caught up in Axle's illegal activities. She had to protect him.

Lord, I know I haven't talked to You in a while, but I need Your help. What do I do? I know this is cliché, but I feel like I'm drowning and going down for the third time. Please help me.

Melora closed her eyes and savored the quiet, wishing it brought her the peace she so wanted. Something hit the tiled floor and her eyes bolted open. She scanned the kitchen and saw nothing until her gaze fell on to Patches's black collar at the bottom of the pet door.

“Patches?”

Silence returned.

She surged to her feet, nearly knocking over her chair in her haste. Covering the few feet to the bay window that overlooked the back yard, she peered outside. A flash at the side of her house secured her attention. Patches? Something else? Or someone else?

The idea that a person had come up to her back door and pushed something through the small pet door knotted her stomach into a hard ball. She moved to the collar and picked it up, examining it for any hints of how it came to be on her floor. That was when she saw a red X across Patches's tag. The collar tumbled from her grasp and struck the tiles again with a clunk.

A
n hour later Melora prowled the kitchen, not able to sit, not able to think clearly. Was Patches dead? The red hadn't been blood but a Magic Marker. She'd hidden the collar in a drawer. She didn't want Kaitlyn to see it. She felt helpless.

Continuing to pace, she passed the wall phone and glanced at it. Call Daniel. Tell him what was going on. Maybe he could protect her, help her.

No, his presence would only make it worse. Hadn't she been warned enough? Wasn't Patches's disappearance a clear threat?

She again circled the room, too restless to sit, her nerve endings on fire. She needed to figure out how she was going to tell Kaitlyn that Patches might…

A cry pierced the air, twisting Melora toward the back door. Patches shot through the pet opening and raced across the room. He hurled himself into her arms, his whines beautiful music to her ears. Burying her face in his fur, she breathed in the scent of the outdoors and smoke.

The memory of the man watching her at the Riverwalk, a cigarette in his hand, made her tremble. Had he taken Patches? As much as he exasperated her at times, having
Patches in her arms was wonderful. Could the Lord be sending her a message of hope? She so needed it.

Finally having enough petting, the cat squirmed until she placed him on the floor, and he moseyed into the utility room where she heard him munching on his food. She wished she could right her world that easily.

With a sigh, she grabbed her cold cup of tea sitting on the table and pitched its contents into the sink. She still didn't know what to do. Maybe if she called Daniel and only talked to him over the phone, stressing how important it was that they didn't meet in person….

The doorbell chiming intruded into her thoughts. She wasn't expecting anyone. Quickly, she planted herself at the window in the dining room that afforded her a view of the porch and driveway that circled in front of her house. The white Ford 150 truck mocked her. Then she saw Daniel standing in broad daylight for the world to see on her porch.

Why did he have to come to her house?

The chimes rang again, and she hurried to answer the door. Maybe she could get rid of him, and no one would be the wiser that he was here. But then she remembered the person who had dropped Patches's collar through her pet door only an hour ago and knew someone was probably watching her place right now, especially since her cat had just been returned.

Why couldn't the man have better timing? Or better yet, no timing.

Melora wrenched open the front door, coming face-to-face with a Ranger who filled her entrance with his presence, full of power and self-confidence. Her eyes fixed on the gun holstered at his waist, and she resolved not to do or say something she would regret.

“To what do I owe this…visit?”

“I had some news on the break-in.”

“The one where nothing was taken.”

His mouth tightened. “Only because I interrupted the man. Can I come in?”

No, go away.
With difficulty she held those words inside and said, “For a few minutes. I was on my way out.”

He stepped over the threshold. “I won't be too long. I just have a few more questions.”

Starting to shut the door, she gripped its edge tighter. “I thought you were giving me an update.”

“That, too.” He grinned, the shadow from the brim of his cowboy hat shading part of his face.

For some reason she didn't think his smile reached his eyes. Instead of going into the living room and sitting, Melora swept around after securing the door and planted herself in the foyer, crossing her arms over her chest. “What did you drive all the way out here to tell me?”

“The getaway car was found abandoned about five miles from here. What fingerprints found in it could be accounted for with the owner and his family.”

“So there wasn't anything in it to help you find the person who broke in?”

“I didn't say that.”

Patience. She got the feeling that Daniel was purposefully trying her. “Then what else?”

“A phone number on a scrap of paper that the owner didn't recognize, and he's the only one who drives the car. He'd cleaned it out a couple of weeks ago, and other than his wife, no one else had been in it since then. She didn't know anything about the phone number, either.”

She pointedly checked her watch. “So you think it belonged to the guy in my house.”

“A definite possibility.” His smile grew, and this time she was sure it touched his dark depths. “I called it.”

She fortified herself with a deep breath. “And?”

“It was one of your husband's restaurants. The one on the Riverwalk downtown. Have you ever been to that restaurant? Do you know any of the employees there?”

“Oh, is this the question part of your visit?”

He cocked his head. “I do believe it is.”

“Yes to the first question and no to the second one.”

“You've been there, but don't know any of the employees of a restaurant you own?”

“
My husband
owned. The last time I went to that restaurant, the first one in his chain, was three years ago on its tenth anniversary. I know the manager changed shortly after that, and I never met the new one.”

“You haven't been back to his premier restaurant since then?”

Dropping her arms to her sides, she drew herself up straight and looked him in the eye. “Yes. I told you I don't know anything about my husband's business. You'll need to talk to the man overseeing it now if you have a question about it. That's William Thompson.”

His eyes narrowed and filled with doubt. “How convenient to deny any knowledge about your
dead
husband's affairs.”

The ruthless way he said dead shivered down her length. At that moment she wondered who was more dangerous— Daniel Riley or the unknown person watching her. The truth—what little she knew—needed to be shared with him, but she couldn't say the words. They clogged her throat like talons around her vocal cords.

“I'm sorry, but I was one of those wives that ran the home and let her husband run his business.” Because that was the way Axle wanted it—not her.

“You aren't worried about what happened the other day?”

Yes, I'm terrified.
But if she revealed that, she would be grilled with more questions she didn't have answers to. “Of course I'm concerned about the attempted robbery and have taken measures to secure my house better.” Again, she made a big deal out of glancing at her watch. “Now, if you'll excuse—”

The blare of the phone charged the air. She flinched, not expecting the sound, but used the interruption to hurry into the living room to answer the call.

“Hello.”

“Hello, Melora.”

She stiffened. The same voice—raspy, smoke-saturated—as the man who had broken into her house. She turned her back on Daniel and lowered her voice. “What do you want?”

“I see you have company. I see taking Patches wasn't enough. I'm through giving you warnings.”

“I haven't said anything.”

“Good, because Kaitlyn is a pretty little girl. We wouldn't want anything to happen to her—or you.” Click.

Daniel listened to Melora's murmured voice, too quiet for him to hear what she was saying. He strode toward the door the intruder had used, pretending an interest in its new lock. He slid a glance back toward her, her face pale, her hands locked around the phone. Terror looked back at him.

“Thanks for reminding me. I should be there shortly. I was detained but he was just leaving. Bye.” She replaced the receiver in its cradle, lowering her eyelids to veil her expression.

“I'll ask you again. What are you hiding?”
Tell me. Please.

Her look stabbed him. “Nothing. Now I really have to go.”

“Are you all right?” When her eyelids lifted, the terror was gone, but he sensed it was only banked until he left.

She shook her head as though ridding her mind of something distasteful. “I will be when you leave.” For the third time she glanced at her watch.

If the situation wasn't so serious, he would laugh at the woman's poor attempts to convince him she knew nothing and was late for some appointment. He sauntered toward her, took a business card from his pocket and stuffed it into her palm. “Just in case you lost the other ones.”

She grabbed his hand, her eyes widening slightly, and returned the card. “I don't need it. Save a tree.”

The warm feel of her fingers on his jolted him. He snatched his hand back with the slip of paper in it. “Suit yourself. If I have any more questions, I'll be in touch.”

“Next time use the phone. It'll save you the gas coming all the way out here for nothing.”

“Another green tip.” He tapped the brim of his cowboy hat. “I appreciate the thought. Good day, Melora.” He started forward, paused and glanced back. “I thought I'd let you know that we're looking around the area where your husband was found for his bodyguard. But investigating other possibilities, too. Thanks for the information about Gordon Johnson.”

Her eyes brightened for a few seconds before she masked her surprise.

As he walked to the door, he noticed her purse sitting on a table nearby. He detoured and stuck the card she'd given back to him into the side of the bag. “Humor me,” he said when she opened her mouth to say something.

Without uttering a word, she grasped the handle and opened the door. Its closing behind him the second he stepped over the threshold couldn't strictly be considered
a slam but only a decibel or two off. He chuckled. He had her rattled and maybe she would finally slip and admit something wasn't right.
Ask me for help.
He threw a look over his shoulder at the heavy wooden door.
Please, before something bad happens to you.

He started for his truck, panning the terrain before him. Melora was scared. Who had called and what had the person said to make her go white like that? His survey brought him no answers. Nothing out of the ordinary. At least nothing visible.

 

Melora bolted the front door and even went to the alarm system and turned it on. If someone came into her house, she would know it.

Then the full implications of what the man on the phone had said hit her. He thought she was talking to the Texas Rangers. He knew the name of her cat and her daughter. He inserted all the personal information to unnerve her more. And his plan had worked.

She collapsed onto the couch in the living room and squeezed her hands together so tightly her knuckles were white. Pain streaked up her arms from her locked muscles. Who was she kidding? Staying here wouldn't keep her safe. She had to get away with Kaitlyn. They would harass her and hound her until she turned over what they wanted. And since she couldn't give them what she didn't have, they would be forced to accelerate their terror tactics, which meant her daughter was in danger.

Finger combing her hair, she tried to think of a way to get away undetected. Start over somewhere else—as far from here as possible. She would have to get some money without being obvious and pack some of their belongings. Although clothes could be purchased wherever they ended
up, there were a few things Kaitlyn would miss if she didn't get to take them with her.

Please, Lord, I'm begging You to help me.

 

“Mommy, why are you coming into my school?” Kaitlyn held Melora's hand as they marched toward the entrance Monday morning.

“We're going on an adventure.”

“Is that why I have my favorite toys in my backpack?”

“You're so sharp, sweetheart.” Melora walked past the office and headed for the doors on the other side of the school. “I've got a cab picking us up so we can start our adventure.” But before charging out of the exit, she scanned the parking lot for anything unusual other than the waiting taxi.

If her plan worked, whoever was watching her would be looking for her to come back outside in an hour since she often volunteered at her daughter's school. That would give Kaitlyn and her some time to get out of San Antonio. She clutched her large purse under one arm and clasped Kaitlyn's hand again before stepping outside.

Rushing toward the cab, Melora did a visual sweep of the area, but she didn't see anything unusual. At the taxi, she wrenched opened the door, guided her daughter in first then joined her in the backseat.

After giving the driver the address of a car rental place where she had a reserved vehicle, she laid her arm on Kaitlyn's shoulder and pressed her against her side. “Here we go. This is gonna be fun.” She forced a lightness into her voice while the clenching of her muscles mocked her words.

But not ten minutes later while the cab was speeding down the highway, a large navy truck came alongside the taxi and began inching into their lane. The taxi driver lay
on his horn, but the pickup kept coming until it bumped against the side, near Melora's door. She swallowed a scream, not wanting to frighten Kaitlyn any more than the loud, crunching sound of the truck connecting with the cab already had. The pickup's dark tinted windows prevented her from seeing the driver.

“Mommy!”

Melora cuddled her daughter closer to her. “Shh, baby, it's gonna be okay.”

“Hey, get over, buddy,” the taxi driver shouted and pressed down on the accelerator.

For a few seconds he shot out ahead of the truck. Until it collided with the back bumper, sending Melora and Kaitlyn forward only to have their seatbelts catch and throw them back against the seat.

Another slam into the rear right side and the cab driver lost control of his vehicle. It flew off the road and bounced over the rougher terrain alongside the highway. Kaitlyn's sobs iced her blood while sweat beaded Melora's brow.

“I'm here, honey.” Heart pounding, Melora cradled Kaitlyn next to her and braced herself for the impact with the fence.