Bad Penny (17 page)

“Who?”

Amalia sighed. “You know…Mickey Jackson.” “Do you mean Michael Jackson?”

“Mickey…Michael, whatever,” Amalia said. “But you don’t tell her that I’m the one who told. When you come back, you pretend to be surprised. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Mama. I hear you. And believe me, it will not be difficult to be surprised.”

He could tell that his mother had missed the point of his sarcasm when she giggled. “Good, good. It is always best to not hurt someone’s feelings and ruin a surprise.”

Luis sighed. “Yes, I completely agree.” Then he glanced at his watch. “Anyway, Mama, it’s getting late and I haven’t had any dinner yet. Tell

Papi I said hello, and I’ll talk to the both of you when I get back.” “Be careful, and don’t shoot anyone.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose to keep from cursing. “Yes, Mama, I’ll try my best.”

He disconnected, then looked up, unaware there were tears running down his face. All he knew was that, while he was chasing after some bastard who probably deserved to die, his wife was so lost that she was letting doctors operate on her to change her looks. If he did what he wanted to do, he would call in, tell his boss the trail had gone cold and get home where he belonged.

He tossed his suitcase on the bed, changed into a clean shirt and left to go find some food. Tomorrow was another day. Maybe then, Conchita would answer her phone. Maybe by then he would know what to say to her that would make her world all right.

Jimmy Franks had already run out of money before he ran out of gas, which happened in the middle of traffic on the Austin city bypass. He managed to get the old car onto the shoulder of the road, then waited for a break in the traffic and abandoned it, telling himself it was just as well. The cops were sure to be looking for it by now.

He walked until he was deep into the inner city, then found himself a place to sleep. The weather was balmy, and it sure wasn’t the first time he’d slept on the streets. This time, he found a big cardboard box and pulled it out of the Dumpster where it had been discarded. The hunger

cramps in his belly and his need for a fix were distracting, but he knew enough not to try to find a dealer right away in a strange city, so he crawled into the box and pulled the flaps shut behind him.

The box smelled faintly of barbecue and urine. He didn’t want to think how that combination of scents had come to be there, so he closed his eyes, fidgeted around until he found a fairly comfortable place to lie and fell asleep, only to be awakened a couple of hours later by a city garbage truck making the rounds.

He heard the beep, beep, beep of the truck’s backup signal and rolled out of the box just before it was crushed beneath the wheels.

Still shaking from his near miss, he watched as the Dumpster was emptied. He didn’t make a move until the truck had left the alley; then he looked at his box. It was ruined, as was his ability to sleep.

Withdrawal symptoms were setting in—muscle tics, a sensation of bugs crawling under the skin, and the gnawing need for a fix that only another junkie could understand. He swiped away the snot running from his nose and then ran his fingers through his hair. His new clothes were still holding up; there were only a couple of small stains. He would just have to start walking and see what turned up. Just because he’d hit another roadblock, that didn’t mean he was quitting. He was in Austin—and that much closer to Wilson McKay. He would have to find another way to get what he needed, and that was all there was to it. No one messed with Jimmy Franks and got away with it.

No one.

Ten

Dorothy was still making phone calls when Carter took Wilson and Cat to the old homestead where he’d grown up. Cat could hear the excitement in Carter’s voice as he drove. She knew he was happy that Wilson was coming home to work the ranch with him, and after what she and Wilson had been through, they were both ready for a change of pace.

She couldn’t imagine a better place to raise a family than this. She watched with interest as they drove, listening to Carter point out the special places on the ranch. But it was her first glimpse of the old home place that caught her attention. By the time they’d parked beneath a pair of tall oak trees, she was in love.

The house was two-story with a wraparound porch. Some of the shutters were off, others were hanging by one hinge, and it was sadly in need of a paint job, but she saw beyond the age to the structure beneath.

“Oh, Wilson. This is beautiful.”

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?”

She got out quickly, anxious to look inside. “Why on earth isn’t someone living here now?”

“I don’t know…I guess they all wanted something new. When we were growing up, this was just Grandma and Grandpa’s house. They died just after my youngest sister was married. Their deaths were fresh in our minds, and no one wanted to be here. It seemed like it was still their place. Now…”

“It’s lonely,” Cat said.

Carter eyed her sharply. “That’s what my mother used to say about old houses. She would always choose character over flash and style.”

“Smart woman,” Cat said. “Can we go inside?”

“Sure,” Carter said, and took the key out of his pocket. He started to go with them, then hesitated, handed Wilson the key and said, “You two go on in by yourselves. You don’t need me along.”

Wilson smiled his thanks, and off they went, while Carter settled onto the tailgate of his truck to wait.

Wilson took Cat by the hand, and together, they walked up the steps. “Here we go,” Wilson said, as he unlocked the door.

The hinges squeaked as the door swung inward.

Cat stood on the threshold, taking in the entry and the big staircase sweeping up to the left.

“Oh, Wilson. Just look at this place.”

All he saw was peeling wallpaper and dusty floors. “Yeah, I’m sorry it’s in such bad shape, but we can—”

She turned, her eyes wide with excitement. “Bad shape? Are you nuts? This place is amazing.”

She took off through the foyer, aiming for the great room beyond. A large fireplace made of natural rock centered the wall at the far end. The mantel was huge—a single beam of timber over fifteen feet long and two feet thick. Cat walked toward the bay window and looked out to the prairie beyond.

“The view goes on forever.”

Wilson walked up behind her, then gathered her into his arms and kissed the back of her ear.

“So can you see yourself living here?” he asked. “Oh, Wilson…yes.”

“The kitchen and dining room are through here, and needless to say, in serious need of updating.”

Cat eyed the exposed beams in the ceilings, as well as the size of the rooms.

“It’s really big,” she said. “Lots of room for kids,” he said.

Her hand automatically went to her belly. “One at a time, please.” Wilson suddenly shivered, then took her in his arms.

“What?” Cat asked.

He buried his face against the curve of her neck as he pulled her close. “I don’t know. I just had a sudden need to hold you.”

Cat frowned. She was a believer in instinct. It had saved her life more than once over the years.

“Are you worried about Jimmy Franks?”

He thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe. I certainly should be.”

Cat’s frown deepened. “You know, I promised myself that if the Dallas police didn’t get him, I would.”

Wilson tightened his grip on her arms. “Oh no you don’t, especially not now. I will not risk losing you again. Besides, you have to remember that it’s not just what you feel like doing on your own anymore. You’re carrying precious cargo.”

“I know. I’m not crazy, okay?”

“Okay,” Wilson said, and then tugged her hand. “There’s still more to see. A couple of bedrooms downstairs and four up.”

“Bathrooms?”

“One down. One up.” “Show me.”

They made the rounds together, talking, planning, seeing themselves living under this roof as his grandparents had done before them.

The floors of the old house creaked and popped as they walked through the rooms, as if announcing their presence. By the time they were through, Cat was sold.

“So what’s the verdict?” Wilson asked. “And remember, we can always build a new—”

“No. This is where we belong,” she said.

He smiled. He’d felt it, too, but hadn’t wanted to influence her decision.

“Let’s go tell Dad. We’ll need to hire a contractor to bring it up to code electrically and do the needed repairs. You can pick out colors and flooring, and tell the contractor what you think we’ll need in the kitchen.”

“I’m going to ask your mom to help me with that,” Cat said.

“She’ll love that,” Wilson said. “And now we’d better get back to the house. Someone needs to rein Mom in before she invites the whole of Austin to dinner tomorrow.”

It was just after two o’clock the next day, when LaQueen came back to the office from a late lunch. She’d left John manning the phones and had promised to bring him a burger and fries, but what she’d seen during lunch had changed everything. The TV at the sports bar had been showing a replay of a soccer game between Italy and England when the broadcast was interrupted by a bulletin.

She’d watched long enough to realize that her boss’s troubles weren’t as far behind him as he might have liked. She’d grabbed John’s order, tossed some money down on the table and headed for the exit.

When she got to the office, she hit the door running, startling John to the point that he got up from the desk and went to meet her.

He grabbed her by the arms. “What’s wrong?”

“Here’s your lunch,” she said, and thrust the sack into his hands. “I’ve got to call Wilson.”

“Why?”

“Were you watching the television?” “No. There were too many calls.”

“Remember Debi Moore, that woman who was murdered over at that gas station on the west side?”

“Yes.”

“The police have identified her killer by his fingerprints.” “So?”

“It was Jimmy Franks.”

John’s eyes narrowed angrily. “The man who shot Wilson.”

“Yes. And they just found the car that he stole abandoned on the side of the highway in Austin.”

“Oh no.”

“Exactly,” LaQueen said. “Wilson needs to know the sorry rat is pretty much in his backyard.”

“Do you think he’s going after Wilson?”

“It’s hard to say, but I’m not much of a believer in coincidence.” “You’d better let him know,” John said.

“Right. You eat. I’ll talk.”

John smiled. “Gladly, woman. I have no intention of trying to outtalk you.”

LaQueen swatted at him, but she was smiling. She loved this man. All she needed was for him to make a move and she was his for life. But—they both knew Wilson needed to be brought up-to-date on what was happening. No way were they going to let that crazy meth-head Jimmy Franks get close to him again.

She dialed Wilson’s cell phone, then waited for the familiar sound of his voice.

The party was on. While Cat and Wilson were the center of attention, they were also on the receiving end of a goodly amount of teasing. At the moment, they were short of seating, and Wilson had pulled Cat down to sit on his lap, while his brother Charlie had gone after extra folding chairs from the storage room.

Charlie’s wife, Delia, was putting plates and silverware on the long table in the dining room, while another brother, Lee, was setting up a folding table. Carter was in his easy chair with a lapful of grandchildren, which was exactly where he wanted to be.

Cat kept watching the family as they interacted with each other, listening to them repeat family stories and hearing the outbursts of laughter that came with each one. The joy of knowing she was now a part of all this was more than she could put into words.

Wilson’s hand was splayed across her belly as he held her on his lap, and she quietly put her hand on his, thinking of the tiny life that lay beneath. Even now, they were protecting it together.

She watched the children running in and out of the house, and the ones playing outside. This time next year, their baby would be learning to sit up and maybe beginning to crawl. It was difficult to picture herself as a parent, and yet thinking of it seemed natural.

It wasn’t until Wilson said her name and gave her a quick squeeze that she realized someone had asked her a question.

“What? I’m sorry. What did you say?” she asked.

“Yeah, she’s gonna fit in to this family just fine,” someone said. “She’s already learned how to tune us out.”

Cat grinned. “I didn’t tune you out. It’s just that my ears have gone numb.”

The laughter that followed was loud and long.

“Way to go, baby,” Wilson said, and quickly kissed the backside of her ear.

“What’s so funny?” Dorothy asked, as she came into the living room.

Carter pointed at Cat. “Your newest daughter just put this wild bunch in their place.”

Dorothy giggled. “That’s our girl.” Then she pulled Cat out of Wilson’s lap. “Come with me, honey. I have something to show you.”