Chapter Thirteen
An hour later Carly was dressed and ready to accompany Linc to Dallas. Last night had been a respite, hours of amazing sex and worry-free slumber.
Lincoln Cain was everything a man could be—at least in bed. The rest remained to be seen.
The sex had been fantastic, but today reality was setting back in. Whoever had murdered Miguel Hernandez was still on the loose, and El Jefe, who might have been responsible, still expected her and Drake Trucking to join his organization.
“You ready?” Dressed more casually today in dark blue Levi’s, a white western shirt rolled up to the elbows, and a pair of black cowboy boots, Linc walked out of his home office down the hall.
The residence, apparently over a hundred years old, had been completely remodeled. It was simple and masculine, yet everything inside was modern and entirely first-class, including the stainless kitchen, the bathrooms, powder room, Linc’s office, and home gym.
And everything about the place fit him perfectly.
“Let me grab my purse.”
In a pair of jeans and a sleeveless blue print blouse, she joined him in the slate-floored entry. She’d only brought an overnight bag. Aside from what she’d worn yesterday, she hadn’t packed the kind of clothes she would need for the city. Since Linc wanted to go to his office after they talked to the Grangers, then later they were going out to supper, he’d agreed to stop by her house so she could change into something more appropriate.
And now that it appeared she was staying at the ranch—she flushed at the memory of last night—she needed to bring more of her clothes back to his place.
With the strap of her laptop slung over Linc’s shoulder, she walked beside him out of the house. He helped her into the Jeep and they headed for the helipad, where the chopper was waiting when they arrived. It swooped up, crossed the short distance between their two homes in minutes, and set down again in the field across from Joe’s little house.
Carly went around to the back door and unlocked it, but Linc caught her before she had time to get inside.
“Let me take a look first.”
It seemed a little over the top. She didn’t think El Jefe would be lying in wait in her small rundown house, but under the circumstances, caution wasn’t a bad idea.
When Linc returned a few minutes later with a grim look on his face, a shot of fear slid through her.
“What is it?” She pushed past him into the kitchen and he didn’t try to stop her. First she noticed the broken window over the kitchen sink, then the awful destruction around her. Her legs refused to move. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She heard the crunch of broken glass as Linc came up behind her, drew her back against his chest.
“It’s only stuff,” he said softly. “It’s easily replaced.”
She glanced around the room, at the shattered coffee cups on the floor, the pictures smashed against the walls, and her eyes filled. “It’s not just stuff. It’s my stuff . . . and Joe’s.”
She felt his muscles tighten.
Carly started walking through the debris, seeing dishes dragged out of the cupboard and broken into pieces, the stuffing from the sofa tossed onto the living room floor.
Linc opened the door to the garage and flipped on the light. Walked out then walked back in. “Your pickup’s okay. They must not have gone into the garage.”
Her legs shook as she headed down the hall to her bedroom. The bedding had been pulled off, the perfume bottles and photos on the dressers had been shoved off onto the floor.
“Why?” she asked. “I told him I’d do what he wanted. Why would he destroy my home?”
“We don’t know it was him. Not for sure. I didn’t see any kind of note. If it was El Jefe, he didn’t leave a message like before.”
Her legs felt wobbly as she crossed the carpet to her closet and slid open the doors. Some of her clothes had been ripped off the hangers, but most still hung on the bar.
“He was wearing down by the time he got to the bedroom,” Linc said, “his anger mostly spent.”
She brushed a tear from her cheek, sank down on the foot of the bed. She glanced up at Linc, whose features looked as grim as she felt.
“You sure you didn’t do this just so I’d have to stay out at the ranch?” she teased, trying for a lighter note.
His eyes met hers and his lips twitched. He sat down beside her and pulled her onto his lap. “I’m glad you’ve still got your sense of humor.”
Her gaze lit on a broken framed photo of her and Joe. It was her graduation from high school. Joe had been so proud of her that day. Her throat tightened and a fresh rush of sadness swept through her. “Yeah.”
“I’ll put some people on this, have the place put back together.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I promise I won’t make it so nice you’ll want to move back in.”
She sliced him a look.
“At least not too soon.”
Carly managed a smile.
“I’m going to have your bedroom packed up and moved to the ranch house. We’ll put your stuff in a spare bedroom until your place is cleaned up and you’re ready to move back in. I’ll get one of the hands to drive your pickup out to the ranch, okay?”
She didn’t want to do it. She didn’t want to be completely under Linc’s control. But she didn’t dare stay in the house alone—not until they figured out what was going on.
“There’s a set of pickup keys on the hook next to the door.”
He nodded. “We’ve got to call the sheriff. They’ll need to dust for prints.”
“You think they’ll find any?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Probably not if it’s El Jefe.”
She just nodded. She felt numb all over as she went to the closet and picked out a sleeveless black linen dress with a matching short-sleeve pink and black jacket, a garment that could easily transition from day to evening. The bathroom wasn’t as bad as the bedroom. She changed, found a pair of strappy, mid-heeled Ferragamos in the closet, and slid them on her feet.
When she walked up to Linc, he caught her chin, bent, and softly kissed her.
“So far I’m doing a pretty rotten job of taking care of you,” he said.
Carly’s lips curved in a smile. “Oh, I don’t know . . . you did a great job last night.” Turning, she walked in front of him out of the bedroom.
* * *
Linc waited impatiently for a sheriff’s deputy to arrive. Deputy Rollins finally showed up, the guy Carly had talked to after the original break-in.
As the deputy walked into the house and saw the destruction, he lifted his cowboy hat and scratched his head. “Looks like those kids came back. Damn, they sure made a mess. My dad would have licked me good for doing something like this.”
“I don’t think this was done by kids,” Carly said.
“Maybe not. We got a fella in the office does the fingerprinting. He’s real professional. He’s on his way over now. Meantime, I need to get a statement from you.”
Linc sat next to Carly at the kitchen table while she told the deputy how she’d been away all night and had just returned home that morning. How they had found the house vandalized.
Rollins shifted his gaze to Linc. “So you two were together all night?”
“That’s right,” Linc said.
“But you didn’t stay here.”
“No,” Linc said, tamping down his irritation. “We stayed at my place.”
The deputy eyed him with suspicion. “You sure this wasn’t just some lovers’ spat that got out of hand? Insurance won’t pay if it was. But I guess you wouldn’t know about that.”
Anger snapped in Carly’s eyes. “The man you’re accusing of lying is Lincoln Cain. He probably owns the damn insurance company. No, we didn’t have a lovers’ spat. Someone broke in and destroyed my house. It’s your job to arrest whoever did it.”
Beneath the brim of his tan cowboy hat, the deputy’s face turned red. “Sorry, Mr. Cain. I should have known it was you when I saw that helicopter. I hope you understand it’s my job to get the truth.”
“I understand. In return for that understanding, I expect you and your department to do everything in your power to find the man or men responsible.”
“Oh, we will. You can count on that.”
“Good. Now if you don’t mind, Ms. Drake and I have business in Dallas. I hope you’ll expedite the results on any prints you find.”
“Yes, sir, I sure will.”
Linc handed the deputy his business card, not the personal one he had given to Carly. “If there’s anything else you need, call my office.” He turned to Carly. “You ready?”
She nodded. He could tell she didn’t like the conclusion the deputy had drawn—that they had spent the night together in bed. It would be all over Iron Springs by the end of the day. Couldn’t be helped, and though Linc worked hard to keep his private life private, he actually liked the idea.
Carly was his, at least for now. Less trouble if people understood that.
* * *
Out in the field, Dillon waited patiently in the chopper. In minutes they were belted in and airborne, then setting down on the Tex/Am rooftop, there to speak to the couple who had found Miguel Hernandez’s body.
From the roof, they took the elevator all the way down to the underground garage. The parking attendant waved at Linc and ran to get his black Mercedes. He owned a pair of S550s: a two-door coupe he kept in the city, a four-door sedan out at the ranch.
“Wow, sexy ride,” Carly said as she slid into the deep leather passenger seat and the attendant closed the door.
“It’s comfortable, nice, and safe on the freeways.” He leaned over and punched the Grangers’ street address into the GPS on the dash. The navigator’s soft female voice pointed him in the right direction.
“Gretchen,” he said, his nickname for the faceless travel guide.
Carly made no reply. He could see worry weighing her down like a heavy shroud.
“We’ll talk to the Grangers,” he said matter-of-factly as the car rolled along the busy streets toward the freeway. “If nothing comes of it, we’ll try something else. I’ll talk to a friend of mine, guy I know in the FBI.”
“What!” Carly shot forward so fast her seat belt snapped her back against the seat. “You can’t do that! El Jefe warned me not to say anything. If he found out I talked to the FBI, he might kill me!”
“Take it easy. This would be strictly off the record, not an official conversation. I’ve known Quinn Taggart for years. He’s a good man. Quinn might be able to help us.”
Carly shook her head. “You weren’t there. You can’t know the kind of man El Jefe is. He liked hitting me. He liked controlling me, having me at his mercy. I have to find a way to stop him, but it can’t involve the police.”
Linc’s gaze went to the bruise at the corner of her mouth and his hands tightened around the wheel. “It’s all right, honey, I’m not going to do anything we don’t both agree on.” At least not yet.
But sooner or later, El Jefe was going to have to be dealt with. Carly couldn’t do it by herself. Linc had connections, people he could trust, but it might not be enough.
They arrived at the Grangers’ apartment building and Linc found a parking spot on the street. He helped Carly out of the Mercedes and they walked into the building together, took the elevator to the third floor, and headed down the hall.
A sharp knock and the door swung open. Andy Granger, with curly blond hair, slightly crooked front teeth, and a friendly smile, stood in the opening. “Mr. Cain?”
“That’s right. And this is Carly Drake. She was Miguel Hernandez’s boss as well as his friend.”
“Please come in. This is my wife, Maria.” Olive skin and big brown eyes, only a few inches shorter than her husband. The Grangers were in their late twenties.
“It’s nice to meet you both,” Carly said as Linc guided her into the apartment, which was simply furnished, neat and clean, with a tweed sofa and chair, and old-fashioned shag carpet in the living room.
A little beagle puppy came racing out of the back hallway, dashing straight to Maria, who scooped the small dog up in her arms.
“This is Waldo,” she said. “He found your friend. Andy and I are both very sorry.”
“Thank you,” Carly said.
“I’m glad you called,” Andy said. “Yesterday, when Maria was picking up Waldo’s toys, she found this.” Andy handed Linc a folded-up piece of paper. It was water-spotted and smeared with dried mud.
“At first Maria couldn’t figure out where it had come from. Then she thought, with the mud and water stains, maybe the puppy had carried it off that day on the highway. We considered phoning the sheriff, but then you called. We thought we’d give it to you.”
Linc unfolded the piece of paper, wrinkled from the rain and mud. A rusty spot on the corner looked like it could be blood. He held it out for Carly to see.
“It looks like a work order,” she said. “A cargo manifest.”
Part of the top was torn away, along with part of the printed words. The rest were almost unreadable but he could clearly make out the last five letters, CKING.
“I think it’s ours,” Carly said. “It looks like it said DRAKE TRUCKING.”
“I think you’re right. That makes it part of the crime scene.” He turned to the Grangers. “We’ll follow up on this, see if it has anything to do with the murder. Thanks for giving it to us.”
“I hope it helps,” Maria said.
They talked to the couple a while longer, but there was nothing more to add to their original statement. Still, the paper might prove interesting. He’d get the brown spot tested, see if it was blood. If so, maybe they could find out whose.
They left the Grangers and Linc drove back to the office. He had a quick meeting, some calls to make; then he was done for the day. They could go out to dinner, then chopper home.
Linc flicked a glance at Carly and desire slipped through him. He had plans for her tonight and sleep wasn’t high on the list.
As the car rolled down the North Central Expressway, the mirrored windows of the Tex/Am building glinted in the sunlight ahead. He pulled the Mercedes into the underground lot and got out. The attendant opened Carly’s door, then hurried around and slid in behind the wheel.
Linc grabbed Carly’s laptop out of the car and they rode the private elevator up to his office. He should probably give the paper to the sheriff for DNA testing, but he still wasn’t sure Howler wasn’t involved.
Instead he would send it to the City DNA Lab here in Dallas, see what turned up. Tomorrow he’d talk to Conchita, see what she had to say about the twenty-thousand-dollar bank deposit.
It should be an interesting conversation.