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Anita stood. “Mr. Leeman, you don’t seem to have much regard for my brother. It’s almost as if you’re glad he’s gone. When I was here in the spring, you never once mentioned problems with Drew.”
“That would have been a betrayal of privacy, I believe, and, anyway, during your last visit we were concerned with saving an endangered colony of bats, as I recall.” He shot Booker a look of triumph before he gave Anita an apologetic nod. “To be perfectly honest, Ms. Teel, your brother didn’t fit in well here at Wild World. As a matter of fact, I intended to let him go after the erosion piece was done.”
Booker heard her inhale sharply. He couldn’t squash a surge of satisfaction. About time she saw Leeman’s dark side.
“And did my brother know that? That you were going to fire him?”
Leeman gave her a polite smile. “I have no idea. I’m sorry, I must get to another meeting. Trust me that we will provide the police with whatever help they require to find your brother.”
Booker trailed Anita out to the truck. She looked as if she didn’t know whether to scream or cry. Even Ace’s enthusiastic lick didn’t bring a smile to her face.
She shook her head. “They act like they’re happy he’s gone.”
“Leeman did, anyway.”
“He seemed like a different person than the man I worked with before.”
“Maybe you were too focused on your crusade to get a clear picture of him.”
Anita jerked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He clamped his jaw together. A fight would only complicate things, distract them from getting the problem solved and her out of his life. He took a deep breath and stared out the window while the engine idled. “Nothing. I think we’d better go check out your brother’s apartment right now.”
Her eyes widened. “Why? What’s wrong?”
He swiveled his gaze to her face. “We need to figure out if Drew really did go to The Painted Cliffs.”
“Where is it, anyway? You said it was no-man’s-land.”
“It’s a place the drug runners use to ferry their stuff over the border.”
She gasped. “Drug runners?”
“Uh-huh.” He pulled out onto the main road. “If he’s there, he really is in trouble.”
Booker squelched an odd sense of foreboding as they made it to Drew’s apartment building on the edge of town. The setting sun was reduced to a few amber-colored rays, which painted the whole complex—a long strip of fifteen units strung together—in an eerie glow. Each unit featured a metal front door and the same striped awning over the dust-covered windows.
Booker followed her into the super’s office, the uneasy feeling growing with every minute. The tiny, birdlike woman was reluctant to hand over the key at first. “The guy’s a deadbeat. Hasn’t paid this month’s rent. I ought to hand the matter over to the police.”
“If we find Drew, you can collect that rent he owes you,” Booker reminded her.
Finally the lady gave in and handed over the key, promising to check in on them after her soap opera was finished. Anita grabbed it and hurried ahead of him to Drew’s door.
As it swung open, she gasped and stumbled backward against his chest. He squeezed her protectively for a moment, feeling her tremble as she regained her balance. Catching a glimpse of the apartment over her shoulder, he gently placed her behind him and entered. “Stay here,” he commanded.
Keeping as quiet as he could, he did a careful walk through the mess, checking every closet as he did so. He found her in the front room when he returned.
Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright with fear and unshed tears. “What happened here?”
The small apartment had been completely ransacked. It had only two rooms; one featured a futon and a small worktable, and had an adjoining bathroom. The other was the kitchen. The entire place had been tossed and dumped. All the drawers were opened and upended on the floor. The furniture was overturned, and bits of splintered wood showed where the rickety frames had given out. Even the canisters of sugar and flour in the kitchen were emptied all over the linoleum.
There was no sign of Drew’s laptop or camera equipment, Booker noted as he quickly dialed the police and filled them in. An old Sports Illustrated cover served as a wall decoration: Michael Jordan smiling down on the room. Even that had been torn away from the wall at one corner. Somebody had been very thorough.
Anita prowled the small space, taking a sweatshirt from its spot over the back of the wooden chair and pressing it to her face. Tears glinted in her eyes.
Booker stopped dead, feeling his heart squeeze at the stricken look on her face. Part of him wanted to wrap his arms around her, and the other part, the other part wanted to run. He settled for putting a hand gently on her arm. “You all right?”
She dashed the tears from her cheeks and turned away from him. “Yes, yes, of course I am. Are the police on their way?”
He nodded. “They’ll be along when they can.” He held up a box of granola bars, empty except for one, and a lone water bottle. “I found these in the kitchen. If I had to guess, I’d say he packed up some supplies before he left. There’s a can of peanuts on the table, too, sort of like he couldn’t fit it into his pack.” He hesitated. “Any chance he went out for some recreation, target practice, maybe?”
“No. Drew hates guns. He could never bear to shoot my father’s pistol, even.” She sank down onto the futon. “What does it mean? Who would want to trash his place? Do you think he ran into trouble from the drug runners?”
“Doesn’t help to jump to conclusions. Let’s leave here before we disturb any more evidence, and then we’ll come up with a plan for tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? I want to go look for him tonight. He might be hurt, or worse.”
“No.”
“No? Why not? I know you’re mad at me, but don’t take it out on my brother.”
“I’m not doing anything of the kind, Anita. Just listen for once.” Booker held up a hand and kept his voice level, meeting those intense brown eyes full-on. “We can’t go there at night, not without some prior planning. It’s just too dangerous, and Drew wouldn’t want you doing a fool thing like that.”
She looked down at her tightly clasped hands and he wondered if she was going to listen to reason.
“I guess you’re right,” she said finally. “I’ll rent another car in the morning and go then.”
“Never mind that. I’ll take you.” He was surprised that the words spilled so readily from his mouth.
She blinked. “Why would you do that?”
Yeah, why would you do that, Booker? He gritted his teeth. Because I’m completely insane, he wanted to tell her. Out of my mind to get involved with you again, when the smallest memory of you still makes me crazy. He understood the anger she kindled inside him, the hurt. What he couldn’t wrap his mind around was the strong need that rose in his gut, the need to protect her, in spite of everything.
He cleared his throat and pointed to a small cardboard box next to the television. “Because your brother also packed those.”
Anita read the printing on the box aloud.
“Techshot Pistol Cartridges. Low Recoil.”
THREE
The nicest hotel in Rockridge happened to be the only one in that small town. Anita tried to ignore the feelings of déjà vu that plagued her as she checked in. The room was clean, painted in soothing shades of green, and the bed was relatively comfortable. Nonetheless, Anita slept only in fits and starts, waking several times fighting off a feeling of terror. The question kept burning at her. What was Drew doing with a gun? Where had he gone, and why hadn’t he called her again? Who destroyed his apartment?
The possible answers terrified her even more than her questions. The only island of comfort was Booker, and that scared her, too. She finally dragged herself out of bed after sunup and into a hot shower before calling the rental car company. There was no way she would allow Booker to become her personal taxi service. She’d told him so in no uncertain terms. She couldn’t get close to him again. She wouldn’t allow herself to.
She sat staring at the phone. While she lingered in a cozy hotel room waiting for the rental car company to get her a replacement, what was happening to her brother? Fear drove her to the window. The sky was an iron gray, layered thick with angry clouds.
The helplessness of her situation swelled inside her until she thought she would burst. She settled for throwing her shoes at the door. They cracked into the metal with a satisfying thwack.
A soft knock followed the thwack. “Great. Now I’ve got the neighbors mad at me.”
She opened the door to find a startled Booker on the other side. He wore his customary worn jeans and T-shirt with a Windbreaker thrown over it. A Cardinals baseball cap caught the first few drops of rain.
He looked uneasy. “Something hit the door.”
She forced a calm tone. “It was nothing. The rental car company is bringing me a car sometime later today. Like I told you before, you don’t need to take me anywhere.”
He leaned his weight on one hip, crossed arms accentuating his wide chest. “Figured I’d give you my cell number in case anything came up.” Without meeting her eyes, he handed her a crumpled piece of paper. His calloused fingers touched her hand, and she felt the strength of hard work and long days.
When he looked away at the clouds that massed on the horizon, she sneaked a glance at his profile. His face was tanned as ever, chin square, hair unruly where it curled out from under his cap, just as she remembered. There was a subtle difference, she noticed; deep shadows under his eyes and an unfamiliar haggard look.
A tender feeling stole over her. Don’t get sappy, she reminded herself. You did that before, and it almost distracted you from your duty.
Booker had needed to realize that mining brought nothing but hardship, especially for the delicate creatures on his ranch. She felt a sliver of guilt that she’d hurt him in the process. With a jolt, she realized she’d been staring.
He cleared his throat. “Not my place, but don’t go looking for Drew on your own.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not a helpless female.”
His smile was bitter. “Oh, I know that all too well.”
She forced her chin up. “Thanks for your concern, but it isn’t necessary.”
He looked at her, eyes searching hers as though he was looking for something he had left.
She tried to think of something, anything, to say, but Booker turned away, mumbled a goodbye and took off in his truck.
She watched him go. A strange thought danced in her mind. If he wasn’t so stubborn, would things have turned out differently between them?
No, Anita. You two are incompatible species. You walked away at just the right time, for once, like you should have done with Jack. If only she’d had the strength to walk away from him, maybe her confidence wouldn’t be so trampled. She closed the door and headed back to the phone, redialing the number Sergeant Williams had given her for the local Department of Homeland Security, aka the Border Patrol.
Yes, they were still aware of her brother’s situation, including the break-in. Someone would call her.
Later.
Though the wall of clouds was intensifying, Anita felt if she didn’t move, her body would simply explode. She pulled on the only jacket she brought—a thin, purple nylon affair that could roll up small enough to fit in a pocket—and made sure to take her satellite phone.
The air held a tinge of humidity, the clouds seeming to press on her with a great weight. There was nothing close to the hotel, nothing but a tiny gas station with a mini-mart attached. Sucking in a determined breath, she headed through the buffeting wind.
The whisper-thin man behind the mini-mart counter shot her a curious look. His tufts of white hair gave him a clownish air. “Morning. Help you with something?”
“I’m just here for a few supplies.” Scurrying down the nearest aisle, she gathered a handful of sundries: bottled water, trail mix, a couple of apples and a box of Oreos. If she was going to be on the verge of panic for a while, the Oreos would definitely help. She lugged the supplies to the counter and pulled out her wallet.
On impulse, she showed the clerk the picture of Drew. “I’m looking for my brother. Have you seen him?”
He slid on a pair of bifocals and peered at the picture. “No, ma’am. I’m sorry to say I haven’t.”
Her heart fell. “It was a long shot. Thanks, anyway.”
He added a folding umbrella to her pile with a wink. “I think maybe you’re gonna need this. On the house.”
She thanked him and turned to go when her eyes fell on a stack of leaflets. Booker’s smiling face was printed on the top, under the words Living Desert Tours. She shoved one into her pocket and stepped into the swirling wind, her thoughts whirling around just as erratically. Opening the umbrella and avoiding the water that had puddled on the pavement, she jogged back to her hotel room.
Her upper torso was the only part that escaped being drenched. She peeled off the wet clothes, pulled on a robe and spread the paper out on a cracked table, worn and ringed by countless cups of coffee.
Looking to experience the desert in a whole new way? Call Booker Scott at Living Desert Tours. Half-day and full-day trips. Lunch included.
She read the paper twice more. Why was Booker hawking desert tours? He was a cattle rancher with his hand in the opal-mining business. How much time did the man have? And more important, why did thoughts of Booker seem to fill up her mind at every opportunity? She crumpled the paper and threw it in the garbage.
A half hour later, after a lunch of trail mix and cookies, Anita’s nerves threatened to burn right through her skin. The police had no updated information on her brother’s whereabouts.
“We’re pulling in volunteer deputies to help with the search, Ms. Teel. An officer is taking prints and pictures at your brother’s apartment. We’ll call you if we find anything at all.”
She hung up and watched the hands of the clock creep inch by painful inch. The piece of paper Booker had given her materialized in her fingers. “I can’t call him.” The very idea made her cringe. After their troubled past, how could she ask him for help? She had no right.
The thought of being in the truck with him again sent an odd shiver down her spine. It was not an altogether unpleasant sensation.
She shook the thought away and grabbed the phone. Her brother was counting on her. She could not, would not, let her pride get in the way.
He answered on the second ring, his voice low and husky. “Booker.”
“It’s Anita. Look, I’m really sorry to bother you but—”
“It’s fine.”
She took a deep breath. “I need to go to the cliffs, where Drew was headed.”
There was a long silence. “I was afraid you were gonna say that.”
Twenty minutes later, Booker suppressed a sigh as he jumped out of the truck and wrenched open the passenger side for Anita. Why was he dropping everything to run to her side? Because it was the right thing to do, to help a person in need, he told himself, like he’d done when Mrs. Whitley from church needed her cat dislodged from where it had gotten wedged behind the Sheetrock. So what if it was inconvenient and time-consuming? It was still the right thing to do. He risked a glance at her delicate profile. He’d never had these crazy feelings in his stomach while helping Mrs. Whitley, that was for sure.
Redirecting his thoughts to the foolhardy mission he’d undertaken, he eased the truck onto the main road and headed for the highway. Raindrops pattered the windshield. “Storm coming today. Not a great idea.”
“The rain has tapered off from this morning. I’m sure it will be all right. I want to get a sense of the place he was headed, that’s all.”
He shook his head. “Suit yourself.”
She twiddled with her jacket zipper. “How is your father?”
“Not great. He’s in one of those retirement villages. Wanted him to stay on the ranch, but he insisted he’d be a bother.”
“I’m sorry.”
He picked up on a warmth in her voice, remembering how her visits in the spring had cheered his father tremendously. He knew Pops would approve of his helping Anita, in spite of their history. His father would never let a woman down. He’d been there through his wife’s illness, unflinchingly devoted, even when her mind was gone and she didn’t know who any of them were. Pops was a true gentleman, Booker knew, the kind of man he could only hope to be someday. The resolve crystallized inside him. He would help her, he would find Anita’s brother because it was the godly thing to do, and then he would walk away. He tuned back into the present.
“I’ll say a prayer for him,” Anita said haltingly.
Booker nodded. “Preciate that.”
