Lonestar Sanctuary (21 page)

The closest man shook his hand, then pulled out a badge and
flashed it. "FBI. We're looking for Allie Siders."

"No one here by that name." It wasn't exactly a lie. Her name was
Allie Bailey now. Rick wanted to head them off long enough for the adoption to take place. "Just me and my wife live here, along with
some kids in the foster system who are here temporarily."

The expressionless men didn't move away. "We know she's here,"
the leader said. "You might have married her, but we still need to talk
to her."

He should have known they would know about the marriage. The
feds always had their ducks in a row. "Look, she had nothing to do with
the illegal aliens. She reported what she saw, that's all."

"Actually, we already know that," the guy said. "We're not here
to arrest her. And her in-laws have dropped the kidnapping charge
now that they know where she is. They'll be along to sort that issue
out shortly."

Rick winced. Trouble was coming. "Then what do you want?"

The man nodded toward the door. "To talk to your wife."

The screen door opened behind him, and Allie stepped out. "I
heard my name. Are you looking for me?"

"You're Allie Siders?"

"Yes -4 mean no. It's Allie Bailey now." The door closed behind
her, and she moved to stand beside Rick. She leaned against him
slightly to steady herself. "You're cops?"

"FBI, ma'am. I'm Agent Marshall." He pointed to a blond guy with
a crew cut. "Agent Baker. We'd like to talk to you."

Allie took a step back, her shoulders wilting and her head coming
up in a defensive posture. "I didn't do anything"

"We know, ma'am. The investigation has turned away from you
since Yolanda Fleming's murder in light of this." He handed her a
paper. "This was in Ms. Fleming's car, under the seat."

She took it, her pink polish garish against the envelope. It had her
name scrawled across it in bold letters.

"You want me to read it first?" he asked when her gaze touched his
face.

She shook her head. "What is it?" she asked.

"A letter from the killer."

The envelope wasn't sealed. Allie lifted the flap and pulled out the
single sheet of paper.

Rick craned his neck over her shoulder and read the words on the
paper.

Doesn't Yolanda look lovely in her casket? But you'll look better.

Allic crumpled the letter in her hand. "He's not going to get away
with this," she said. "I'm going to make sure he pays for what he did
toYo." Her voice shook with passion.

"So who hates you?"Agent Marshall asked. "What we want to know
is who would want to make you look guilty of trafficking? If we can
get some direction on that, we might be able to find the mastermind.
Whoever it was tried to make you look like you were involved, but
we followed the money trail and your spending habits, and it's clear it
was a frame-up."

"But what about Yolanda?" Rick put in. "Was she involved in some
way?"

"She seems to have been killed purely to hurt Allie."

Allic clasped her arms around herself. "They accomplished
that." She told them about the man who claimed to have killed her
family.

"You didn't recognize his voice? Nothing was familiar?" Agent
Marshall asked.

"Everyone has asked her that, including me," Rick put in. "And the
guy has found her here." He told the agents about the break-in the
other night.

"Do you still have the letter?"

"Yes, it's in the office." Rick motioned for them to follow him, and
he took them past the living room where Fern and Betsy were playing
school. He unlocked the office door and stepped to the desk. He
opened the drawer. "That's odd. I left it here." He rummaged through
the stacks of papers and bills. "It's gone," he said.

Someone had stolen it. Rick distinctly remembered putting it in
the desk drawer. He'd locked the room behind him, and only he and
Allie had a key. His gaze tangled with hers, and she looked away. Had
she taken it?

"Allie, you have any idea what happened to the letter?" he asked.
He didn't want to believe she might have taken it, that she might not
want a closer inspection of the letter.

She looked up and shook her head. "I haven't seen it since I gave it
to you."

"Can you write down what it said?"Agent Baker asked.

"There wasn't much to it," Rick said, grabbing a blank sheet of
paper. "It was typewritten and read, `I've found you. Tag, I'm it. Your
worst nightmare."'

"Could it have been someone other than the man who killed Ms.
Fleming? Maybe someone who knew you were running and thought
to tease you?"Agent Baker asked.

"I don't think so,"Allie said, shaking her head. "I'd even wondered
if one of the teens did it as a joke, but I don't think that's it. I can't
explain, but the feel of the words, the way he put them together,
sounds like him. I don't believe it's a copycat."

The man handed Rick a card. "If you find it, give us a call." Agent
Marshall smiled and went toward the door. The men exited the
room.

Rick rummaged around the desk again. "I can't believe this. No
one has a key to the office but you and me."

"You suspected me at first, didn't you?"Allie's gaze held steady.

"For a second," he admitted.

"Where's the trust, Rick?" She lifted her hand and flashed the gold
ring his way. "Before you put this on my finger, don't you think you
should have made sure you believed what I was telling you?"

"The marriage wasn't about you. It was about Jon."

She flinched. "Jon's not here, and I'm the one who has to see the
suspicion in your face."

"Fair enough." He'd hurt her, and the thought pained him. More
than he wanted to admit. He should tell her that the Siderses had
tracked her down too, but he didn't want to see more discouragement
in those blue eyes.

THE NEXT FEW DAYS ALLIE FOUND HERSELF CLEANING AN ALREADY SPOTless bathroom and dusting shining furniture with a lemony wax so she
didn't have to think about Yo's death. If the guy thought he'd make her
run again, he was wrong. She'd see him brought to justice no matter
what it took.

Today she wasn't going to think about it. Rick was taking her and
Betsy out to see his bluebird trail. The grassy meadow stretched out
under the big sky, brushing the Rio Grande on one side and an escarpment that rose sharply on the other. They rode side by side, Rick and
Betsy on Gunner and Allie on Jackson, a six-year-old Appaloosa that
she'd been riding since her arrival.

A small cabin sat on the other end of the meadow. "Who lives
there?" Allie asked.

"Our former housekeeper, Rosa Garcia. She'd be the one to ask
about your mom, but she's visiting her sister right now. She should be
back in another few days."

Allie followed Rick as he led the way toward the first birdhouse.
Another was planted a few feet away.

"This is called a bluebird trail," Rick told Betsy. They dismounted and tied off the horses at a bar, then Rick lifted Betsy onto
his shoulders. "Bluebirds like open, grassy areas. We can't put their
houses by the feedlot because there are so many sparrows there eating the grain, and they'd steal the houses from the bluebirds." He
hefted her higher and approached the nest. "Look inside, Bets. Are
there any eggs?"

Allie stepped between them and the pole. "There might be lice."

"Get a grip," Rick said under his breath. "She's fine."

"She's going to get dirty poking around up there. And one of the
birds might attack if she's messing with the nest." Allie shuddered at
the thought.

An exasperated huff escaped Rick's mouth. "Look, just be quiet
and let me try this, okay? Just let me handle this."

Why didn't he get a mother's concern? "I don't understand. She
can watch the birds from down here."

He stared at her without saying another word until she shrugged,
and against her better judgment, moved out of the way. She'd about
had it with his interference.

He moved closer to the birdhouse. "See any eggs, Bets?"

Betsy peered into the birdhouse. A tiny squeak of excitement
came from her throat. Allie's eyes widened, and she and Rick locked
gazes. She gave him a tiny nod. Maybe the bluebirds would be a way
of getting Betsy to talk.

"How many do you see?" he asked.

Allie forgot to breathe when Betsy opened her mouth. Then her
daughter's lips clamped shut again, and she held up three fingers.

"Three, huh? It's called a clutch of eggs. What color are they?" Rick
persisted.

Betsy exhaled through parted lips. Allie could almost hear the words
wanting to escape, but Betsy ducked her head and didn't reply.

"Are they blue?" Rick asked gently. Betsy nodded. "We have to
watch them until they hatch and make sure they're doing okay. When
the babies get to be about twelve days old, we'll quit bothering them.
We don't want them to get scared and try to fly away too soon."

The meadow stretched out over the hills in all directions. It felt
peaceful here, and Allie wished she could let her guard down. It
wasn't safe though, not with that man lurking about. He might even
now be watching her.

Rick had brought a nightstick with him, and she had no doubt he
knew how to use it. She would need every bit of his protection.

"Check this box, Betsy," Rick said, walking to the nearby birdhouse. "Any blue eggs in there?"

An iridescent green bird flew from the box. Betsy peered inside
and shook her head.

"It's a tree swallow. They like the same type of home as the bluebird, so we put a house up for them. That way they don't take it away
from the bluebird. The tree swallow is a protected species too." Rick
lifted Betsy from his shoulders and put her on the grass. "Let's sit and
rest awhile. I think your mom brought lunch for us."

Allie went to her horse and got the sandwiches and blanket out of
her saddlebag. She spread out the red-and-white checked blanket, and
Rick helped her put out the food and bottles of water. They ate in silence as they watched the bluebirds flutter around the pasture. The
sun beat down, and she adjusted her hat to block out the glare. She felt
relaxed for the first time in days.

Rick lay back with his hands behind his head. "Bets, did you know
your daddy could make the most piercing whistle through his teeth?
It was enough to break your eardrums."

Betsy giggled, and Allie could have kissed Rick for trying to help
keep Jon's memory alive. "Pick me some flowers, Betsy," she said,
glancing around at the bright display of bluebonnets and some yellow
wildflowers. A roadrunner darted from one rock to another, then ran
to the blue ribbon of water. Fragrance filled the air wildflowers,
sage, creosote, and river. She could live here forever.

Betsy smiled and got up from the blanket. She began to pick the
three-foot stalks of bluebonnet, but before she got very far, the bluebirds grabbed her attention, and she sat down to watch them.

Allie turned her attention back to Rick. "The adoption hearing is
in a couple of days. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

"You trying to back out?"

"No, just giving you a final window of opportunity." She smiled
and plucked a wildflower of her own to keep from touching his face
with her fingertips.

"I've already come to care about Betsy," Rick said. "And not just
for Jon anymore." He plucked a flower and twirled it in his fingers.
"Betsy almost said something at the birdhouse. You've got to back off
and let her fly, Allie."

Allie's contentment disappeared like the cottonwood fluff dancing
around the meadow. "You're not her father," she said. "You can be her
friend, but that's as far as it goes."

"What if I say that's not enough?"

"It has to be. That's all there is. I'm not letting you or any mantake Jon's place with her."

"Even if it's not what's best for Betsy? Where's your trust, Allie? In
me, in God for bringing us together? You going to toss that gift back
in his face?" Rick turned his gaze on her. "There's something else I've
been meaning to talk to you about," he said.

The solemnity in his face made her want to run. He was going to
say he wanted a divorce sooner than a year. She didn't blame him. For
a man like him who could have his pick of women, the thought of
being saddled to a widow and her kid must be daunting.

"I don't want a divorce," he said. "Did you notice I hesitated before
I said my vows?"

She nodded. "I'd wondered if you were about to back out."

"It wasn't that. As a Christian, the thought that we were planning on
breaking the vows we took bothered me. Before I said them, I decided
I would say them and mean the promise. I'd like us to think about working on making our marriage real. I don't want a divorce in a year."

"Real?" she echoed. Something inside, some last dying bloom of
hope, lifted its head.

"I know it's a shock, and maybe I shouldn't have sprung it on you
so fast." He took her small hand in his big, warm one. "I'm not saying
we move fast, just that we inch along in the right direction."

Allie wasn't sure what to say, how to react. She'd dismissed his
strange comment the night of the wedding when he hadn't said any
more. And how exactly would they work on it? Wasn't love supposed
to bloom by itself without being coaxed? Still, she thought she could
learn to love Rick.

And she wanted Rick to love Betsy, to nurture and care for her, but
a tiny twinge of longing for the same thing rattled her. If she plucked his other hand from his lap and held it to her lips, what would he do?
For a moment she was tempted to find out, but then the cold light of
reality washed over her. She wasn't in the market for more pain.

"What do you say?" he prodded, his thumb running in circles
against her palm.

She found it hard to think with the way he was looking at her, the
plea in his blue eyes. "I -I don't know," she faltered.