Chapter 7 #2
almost certainly have several. She’d swear him to secrecy as well. He might be able to put her in touch with people he knew
on the wrong side of the law, maybe even in Mexico; someone he knew might help her.
She had to run down enough proof to arrest Velasquez, one of the more notorious drug lords south of the border, along with
Jorge Vega, his worst rival. But she didn’t know if Garza or the Everetts’ only daughter, Odalie, would be there. She should
have asked, but the Everetts would want to know how she knew about Tony; John especially would.
Now, in this crucial stage of the operation, one loose slip of the tongue and people would die—perhaps even Josie herself.
She would find a way, she told herself finally, somehow, to complete her assignment.
John Everett blew the horn outside her motel room. It was a blatant insult, and he knew it, she thought furiously. It showed
an appalling lack of manners.
For two cents, she thought as she peered through the blinds, I’d leave him sitting out there and refuse to go.
But sanity prevailed. She drew her embroidered wool wrap around her shoulders, picked up her purse and walked out the door.
John, who knew class and sophistication when he saw it, was so stunned by her appearance that before he could get out of the
truck to open her door, she’d opened it and climbed into the cab.
He just stared at her.
She fastened her seat belt and raised an eyebrow. “What?” she asked. “You expected me to show up for Thanksgiving dinner in
worn jeans and dirty boots?”
He took a long breath. She was lovely, dressed up, and she smelled like heaven must. He almost ground his teeth together.
He’d behaved badly and he felt the guilt. His mother would be ashamed, if she knew.
His chiseled lips compressed, and he turned his attention back to the steering wheel as he put the truck in gear and pulled
out into the highway.
“No comment?” she asked with a cold smile.
“Yes,” he bit off. “I expected worn jeans.”
“I own a dress.”
“What a shock.”
She sighed as she looked out the window. “How’s JJ?” she asked.
He glanced at her irritably. But he knew it was a question from the heart.
She was obviously fond of the boy, as they all were.
“Getting along very well,” he said. “We brought his dad’s truck over and had it repaired, repainted.
When JJ’s old enough, we’ll let him learn to drive with it.
” He smiled. “When Dad told him that, he cried. He’s a hell of a kid. ”
“He is,” she agreed, smiling, too. “I shudder to think of him in a foster home. That’s surely where he would have wound up,
if your parents hadn’t decided to take him in.” Her face tautened. “There are a few good foster homes. But only a few. Most
are overcrowded and the foster parents overworked and underpaid. Often, there’s abuse among the children.”
He stopped at the stop sign and looked at her. “How do you know that?”
“My mother was a social worker,” she said simply. “It was her whole life. I wish I had a nickel for every time she tried to
save abused women and children from so-called safe places.”
“One of my classmates in college was a social work major,” he commented. “She was working with troubled children as part of
her major. She cried.”
“Crying doesn’t help,” she said shortly. “We need adults who take responsibility for the lives they create. Or better yet,
adults who show a little restraint.”
“Human nature never changes,” he commented. “There will always be reckless people.”
“Yes. I guess so,” she replied quietly.
“Did you ever have a decent job, before you got mixed up with the bunch of losers you’re hanging out with in the Percell bar?”
Now, how had he known that? she wondered. But she couldn’t afford to react to the sarcastic comment.
“I have my reasons,” she said.
“Number one would be money, I suppose?” he drawled. “Quick riches, at the cost of lives?”
“Why would you assume it cost lives?” she replied.
“Fast money always costs lives, no matter what the job entails.”
“Learned that from your brother, did you?” she asked, tossing the sarcasm right back. “He worked as a mercenary, I believe?”
“Intelligence,” he corrected. “But yes, he did merc work occasionally.” He glanced at her. “To save lives. Not to risk them.”
She looked out the window at the passing landscape. “Nice work, if you can get it.”
“You might try your hand,” he commented after a minute.
“At merc work?” she laughed.
“You carry a piece.”
Her heart jumped. She’d forgotten that he knew that.
He noted her sudden start. “It’s in your purse, I assume.” His head turned, and his pale eyes glittered. “Make sure you put
it out of JJ’s reach when we get to the house.”
“I have a gun case at home,” she said through her teeth. “I know not to be careless with it.”
“Wow. Common sense. I’d never have expected it.”
She turned her head. Her pale eyes glittered, too. “You are the rudest man I’ve ever known!”
“You don’t know me, lady,” he shot back. He smiled coldly. “And you never will.”
“Thank God for small blessings,” she said, and she smiled sweetly.
He turned his attention back to the road.
They were both silent as they went into the house. Heather Everett looked from one steely face to the other. She smiled.
“So,” she said, “did the two of you fight all the way here, or just part of it?”
It struck Josie’s funny bone and she started laughing. John glared at her.
“Welcome,” Heather said, and hugged her. “I’m so glad you could come. I’m afraid it’s just us and Tanner and Stasia for Thanksgiving. Odalie’s having some . . . well, some difficulties, but she came home just for the day. She goes back tomorrow.”
“Garza’s giving her trouble,” John said under his breath.
Heather and Josie glared at him. “John!” they said in unison.
He managed to hide the grin as they went into the living room.
Stasia was very pregnant, and very pretty. Odalie was a knockout, and she and Stasia were so welcoming that it put Josie quickly
at ease. To John’s surprise, their houseguest had excellent manners and knew how to behave at table.
“I told Josie that she looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her,” Heather laughed as they ate. “And she said maybe she had
a doppelganger!”
Josie laughed, but it sounded hollow, even to herself. Worse, Tanner, who had a photographic memory, had suddenly placed her.
She glanced at him and read that quickly concealed expression. She’d been briefly involved in a case that he was assigned
to, a couple of years ago.
“I have that kind of face,” Josie said with a smile.
“We all have doubles,” Tanner said easily. He smiled at Josie and communicated that he wouldn’t unmask her.
“Yes, there was this girl at the gallery, Tony’s gallery, in New York, who was a dead ringer for a college friend of mine,”
Stasia said. She smiled at John. “John dated her once.”
“A long time ago,” John said, and smiled at Stasia for just a few seconds too long. Josie saw that and understood it instantly.
John glanced at her and his whole face went taut.
She averted her eyes. So much went on without words, she thought, as she dug into her perfectly cooked turkey and dressing.
People all wore masks. Some were much more secure than others.
Odalie’s eyelids flickered when Tony’s name was mentioned. Her mother had asked about him, but Odalie had pretended complete ignorance and gone back to talking clothes with Stasia and the other women.
JJ grinned at Josie across the table. “It’s so good to see you!” he said. “John was sure you wouldn’t come, but I knew you
would!”
Josie smiled at him. “I wouldn’t miss a chance to see you, young man,” she said softly. “You look good.”
His thin shoulders rose and fell. “They’re so good to me,” he replied, glancing from Cole at the head of the table, to Heather
at its foot and the four people in between. “It’s already home.” He smiled at his family. “I’m so grateful . . .”
“Stop that,” Cole chuckled, ruffling the boy’s thick hair. “We’re the grateful ones. It’s nice to have a kid again.” He glanced
at John and Tanner and Odalie and made a face. “Once they grow up, they’re never the same. They always want to tell you what
to do!” He glared at John.
“I only tried to tell you that no-till works better when you grow corn, Dad,” John replied. “And it does. You can ask the
county ag agent . . .”
“I’ve been doing it my way since before you were born, and the yield is the same,” Cole retorted.
“That doesn’t mean that there aren’t better ways,” John began.
“Have any of you watched that science-fiction show with the little green alien character?” Josie asked. “I just discovered
it, and it’s so good!”
John stared at her. “I thought you could only afford one dress,” he said unforgivably. “And now you can afford streaming channels?”
She glared at him. “It’s on the internet. The internet is free!”
“You can’t watch it anywhere without a subscription,” John argued.
Cole stood up. He waved his napkin at them.
John grimaced. “Sorry, Dad. Really sorry. Please . . . don’t . . . not again!”
Cole put down his tall glass of iced tea, a drink he favored year-round. Apparently, the waved napkin meant a tea bath was
forthcoming, judging by John’s pained expression.
“Now, dear,” Heather said softly to her husband. “Go easy on him. He’s still mourning his pet.”
“What pet?” Josie asked. Realization dawned. “The rattler?” She grimaced. “Gosh, I’m sorry. I don’t like snakes, but a pet
is a pet.”
“He’s been sick. He wouldn’t eat. And the vet won’t treat him!” he added in a forceful tone.
“Listen,” Cole said, “no sane human being is going to try to treat a rattlesnake! Get real!”
“He’s not dangerous,” John argued.
“Not to you,” Cole conceded. “But you’ve seen rattler bites. You’ve seen them kill people on this very ranch.”
“He doesn’t even have fangs,” John muttered.
“They grow back,” Cole said. “Surely you knew that?”
John looked stunned.