Our Red Hot Romance Is Leaving Me Blue (9 page)

J
ustin arrived at home after four in the afternoon. He was beat. He had spent the entire morning working with the horses, followed by a trip into town to run errands and buy groceries.

Even before he put his grocery sacks on the kitchen counter, he checked the refrigerator door for a new message. Before leaving for town, he had rearranged the letters on the refrigerator door back to alphabetical order. Nothing had changed. This left him with mixed emotions. On the one hand he was relieved; on the other he was disappointed because he was now starting to believe Rachel was truly communicating with him.

He played his voice-mail messages and listened to one from Debbie Sue, informing him that the psychic from El
Paso would be arriving in Odessa this afternoon and would be at his place tomorrow. “Maybe your questions will be answered then,” Debbie Sue had said.

Justin hadn’t expected all of this to happen so soon. He had thought the Domestic Equalizers would put listening devices and cameras in the house before they relied on the supernatural and caused him to risk $3,000.

He intended to be in his home every minute the psychic was present. With his work schedule, that would be impossible unless he put in a request for vacation time. Because of his regular schedule, a week of vacation worked out to be two full weeks off. How long could the woman be in town—a few hours? Two weeks was more time than necessary, but he needed the break. He would make use of the extra days. Those thoughts prompted him to call to his captain to ask for some vacation time.

“If it was anyone but you, Sadler, I’d say not just no, but hell no,” Captain Baugus groused.

“Thanks, Cap, I really appreciate it,” Justin told him. “I know how you hate last-minute requests. If it wasn’t important, I wouldn’t ask.”

“You’ve been working doubles and filling in every vacant slot for more than a year. It’s time you took some days off. Hope you’re going somewhere to raise hell. Run down to Mexico. Lie on the beach and get yourself laid.”

Justin had more important things to think about than deepening his tan or ending his long stint of celibacy.

Avoiding giving his captain the answer Justin knew he wanted, he said, “My plans right now don’t include any of
those things, but if something happens I think you’d want to hear about, I won’t hesitate to call you.”

Justin dragged a frosty glass from the freezer, grabbed a beer and carried them outside to the front porch. A strong breeze from the north gave a welcome reprieve from the heat. Easing himself into one of the two matching rocking chairs, he poured his beer and tried to relax.

So she’s really coming
, he thought. He still found the whole thing a little hard to grasp. He was certain he wouldn’t be condoning this, or even allowing it, if Debbie Sue and Edwina hadn’t promoted it.

Well, this psychic woman would have to prove to him that she possessed extrasensory perception or whatever. With the unlimited capabilities of the Internet to uncover his life from beginning to the present—his date of birth, his parent’s names, when he married, what he did for a living—a computer in the hands of any charlatan could pull up that data. He wouldn’t settle for just any old facts, either. Nor was he worried about
how
she might convince him she was legit. That was her problem, not his. She would have to knock him off his feet before he would fork over the money he had agreed to pay.

Beyond that, what should he say when meeting a person who could look at you and possibly tell you your future and your past? What if she looked at him with a perplexing expression on her face? Would it mean she was just tired? Or would it mean she had a headache or was suffering from constipation, for chrissake? How would he keep from overreacting to her human actions?

Turnup had been sleeping peacefully at the side of Justin’s rocking chair, but suddenly he raised his head and stared at the front screen door. Whining pitifully, he tilted his head to the left, then right, clearly listening to something Justin couldn’t hear. Apprehension began to sneak through Justin. He followed the dog’s gaze but saw nothing through the screen door’s haze except the living area of his home. “What’s the matter, boy?” He reached to touch Turnup’s head but the dog rose, his tail tucked between his legs.

Before Justin could react, Turnup’s behavior changed as quickly as before. The dog began to prance around, never taking his eyes off the front door.

“What the hell…” Justin muttered.

Suddenly Turnup bolted from the front porch, ran into the yard and picked up something in the grass. With the object secured in his mouth, he returned. Ignoring Justin, Turnup placed the object in front of the door and rose on his hind legs, begging. Begging who? No one was present but Justin.

Justin looked at what the dog had brought and his blood chilled. It was a ragged tennis ball. The same tennis ball Rachel had thrown a thousand times and laughed with delight when Turnup raced for it and brought it back to her. Justin hadn’t even known where it was.

Rachel would sit on the porch in one of the rocking chairs and call out to him, “Baby, look at how smart Turnup is. He brings the ball right back to me every time.”

Justin stared at the empty doorway for uncountable sec
onds. Finally he swallowed hard and softly said, “Rach? Honey, is that you? Are you here?”

No reply. No sound. Even the wind seemed to have stopped. Justin looked at Turnup, who had given up on his pleading and now lay quietly again. Reaction burned in Justin’s chest. Adrenaline rush was something he recognized. But this time it wasn’t the life-saving response his body called for in his job. It was more primitive than that. It was anger.

He sprang to his feet, the force of his sudden movement knocking the rocking chair backward. Turnup jumped, ran from the porch and sat in the grass, watching his master warily.

Justin opened the screen door and slammed it with all his might. “Why are you doing this to me?” he bellowed to the air. “If you’ve got something to tell me, just say it! I’m not taking any more of this shit!”

Overcome with emotion Justin dropped to the porch, hard. He buried his head in his hands. His stiff upper lip quivered and he wept, releasing a deep reservoir of sorrow and anger into his hands. The tears that he had held back for so long flowed. No one placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, no familiar voice soothed. No one and nothing made a sound. Beyond his angst, his only awareness was the faint scent of roses.

Nearly to Odessa, Sophia sat back and watched the arid West Texas landscape speed past her window.
Domestic Equalizers
, she thought, curious about the origin of the name and the
two women who had claimed it. She had spoken by phone only to Debbie Sue, but she knew the other partner from a voice in the background. Sophia hoped to be around them long enough to get the full story of their business. She knew a little of their reputation and couldn’t wait to meet them.

She drew a deep breath in an effort to calm herself. This would be the first time she had ever publicly demonstrated her abilities. To say she was nervous was putting it mildly.

Because she had seen clients demand proof from her grandmother, Sophia had no doubt the client in Salt Lick would also. And she didn’t know at the moment how she would manage that. Most people thought a psychic could call up visions like using the TV remote control, going from one premonition to another. But it wasn’t like that. She didn’t know how her visions came; they just did. She couldn’t necessarily predict their arrival. Sometimes a scene formed in her mind. Another time, holding an object would prompt a flashback and cause her hand to shake. One occurrence had never been the same as another, and it wasn’t just one thing in particular.

The only thing she knew for certain was that the Domestic Equalizers and their client expected to meet her grandmother. Sophia showing up instead probably wouldn’t be welcomed. They might even think she was crooked. “Gran Bella,” she whispered softly, “I am going to need your help. Please don’t let me fail. Please help me help these people. Are you with me?”

A voice came into her ear. “I am right beside you,
querida
. We will not fail.”

Sophia smiled and finally relaxed into her seat, but a gravelly male voice interrupted her rest. “Excuse me, miss.”

Sophia looked up. A tall, swarthy man loomed over her. She had been aware of his eyeing her ever since she boarded the bus. He gave her a tobacco-stained leer. She scooted as far away as she could, until she was pressed against the window. He pointed to the empty seat beside her. “Mind if I sit here, pretty lady?”

Sophia visualized her Gran Bella demurely sitting there, hands crossed on her lap. “No, I’m sorry. The seat is taken.”

The man looked at the seat, then at her and backed away. But not before eyeing her up and down one more time. From where she sat, she couldn’t see where he went, but she hoped it was all the way to the back of the bus.

Time passed. Between reading
Cosmo
and catnapping, before Sophia could believe it, the driver announced their arrival in Odessa.

Sophia gathered her purse and magazine and made her way off the bus, looking around at her new surroundings. Except for the outline of El Paso’s Franklin Mountains, which ran north and south, dividing the city almost in two perfect halves, the scenery was the same. Flat land, few trees, lots of open, uncluttered skies. And heat.

Stepping into the air-conditioned bus terminal, she shivered at the sudden change in temperature, but the chill was a welcome reprieve from the ninety-plus heat outside. She scanned the room, noticing travelers of every age, size, shape and color. Several people, men and women both, appeared to be trying to blend into the walls. She recognized them as
being the homeless, seemingly ignoring the
NO LOITERING
signs that were posted everywhere.

Sophia’s heart went out to them, especially the elderly, the women and the children. She believed that homeless able-bodied men had choices and many of them had opted to be where they were. But as a teacher of young children, Sophia couldn’t accept that sleeping in a bus station was what the woman who held a small child’s hand had in mind. A twist of bad luck or bad choices had detoured their lives.

What immunity did she have from that same fate? She wasn’t that far from being homeless herself, as her recent financial challenges had shown her.

A clattering sound pulled her attention to the doorway through which she had just entered. The driver, sweating profusely, struggled to pull a luggage cart indoors.

Sophia was unsure how to go about claiming her bag but quickly saw that, apparently, a numbered ticket attached to her travel voucher was the claim check for it. Still, she hung back and let the more-seasoned bus travelers take the lead.

After waiting patiently for her opportunity she presented the ticket to the driver, who promptly handed her suitcase to her. She pulled up the retractable handle and rolled it toward the front door, already seeing Enterprise Rent-A-Car’s sign across the street.

As she neared the exit, the man who had asked if he could sit next to her during the bus trip jumped from his chair near the doorway and opened the plate-glass door wide for her. She gave a tight, quick smile and started through the doorway. Once outside she realized he had followed her and
was startled when his hand covered hers and he reached for control of her suitcase. “Why don’t you let me help you, sweetheart? A pretty thing like you shouldn’t have to carry your own bags. That’s a man’s job.”

His touch spurred a disgusting film clip in her mind of his life and the way he had chosen to live it. “No, thank you,” she said, shifting her bag to her other side and giving him a long, hard look. “I’ve got it.”

The man, undeterred, stepped in front of her, halting her progress. “How about I go with you? You might find something you need help with later on.” He slid his tongue around his mouth in an attempt, Sophia supposed, to look sexy.

His approach didn’t scare her as much as it steeled something in her she’d never felt before. She was struck with the knowledge that she had the upper hand, and the feeling of power brought a smile to her lips.

The man apparently mistook the smile for an invitation and moved closer to her, looking her up and down as if he were appraising a banquet table. Smile still in place, she said, “Here’s what I think you should do, Bob. Or are you going by Jack now? I’d think if you wanted to use an alias you’d choose one you hadn’t used before.”

Multiple expressions zipped across his face—shock, fear, mistrust and anger. All that she had hoped for.

“How the hell—”

“Don’t worry about it, Bob. It’s
way
over your head. And I’m
way
over the age you prefer. How old was the last girl you molested? Seven or eight? I teach small children. I’ve often wondered about men like you. Do you make victims
of babies because you know you’d never have a chance with a grown woman?”

Shaken, the stranger puffed up with bravado. “Who the hell are you? How do you know—”

“It doesn’t matter who I am. What should matter to you is that I know your probation officer’s name is Phil Casey in El Paso and he would like to know where you are. I’ve never met him, but I know he would like to hear from me. I’ll have no trouble finding his phone number. You either get back on the bus and head back to where you came from in El Paso or I’ll call him right here and now and you’ll be returned to prison.” She leveled a glare at him, while reaching inside her purse for her cell phone.

At that moment an Odessa police officer rounded the corner of the building and stopped, observing the scene. He was a mountain of a man with a weathered face. “Ma’am, are you in trouble here?”

Sophia looked at the policeman and gave him her most sincere smile. “I’m so happy to see you, officer. This man is trying to pick me up. He’s also proud he’s putting one over his parole officer in El Paso.” She glared at her tormentor again. “Aren’t you, Bob?”

The man licked his lips and laughed nervously. “I was just trying to be nice to her. I didn’t—”