You Can't Escape (36 page)

“Aren’t you friends?” Boo had asked, then shrank back because Buddy glared at him so furiously his eyes glowed like blue fire.

“They’re a pestilence, and pretty soon, all of the good families will be gone and only the Calversons and the putrid ones will remain.”

“The Treadwell Curse,” Boo whispered. Buddy had nodded gravely, and Boo was relieved that he’d said the right thing.

But that was before Buddy had made the bad mistakes.

Looking at Calverson, Boo once more had the overpowering urge to trace his scar through his pants, but
she
would see and so would Buddy. He stirred in his seat and the hand that had started to relax clamped hard on his arm again.

“There’s Abel Fread. You see him?” she hissed.

Boo looked toward the front pews. The gray-haired Mr. Fread was seated in the second row, on the right-hand side. He was with his wife and two boys. His daughter wasn’t with him. She’d been drinking and whoring around with Chase and was damn lucky she hadn’t got herself knocked up, Buddy had said. “She’s one of the tainted ones,” Buddy had confided to Boo.

“I see him,” Boo said now, focused on Mr. Fread, whose hair looked silver under the lights.

Her voice lowered. “Now, listen to me. Bernadette was clean. Do you understand?”

Boo felt a stab of fear. Had Buddy made
another
mistake? No, he couldn’t have! “She had the putrid—”

“No! She didn’t have it.”

He tried to stall. “It?”

“
It.
You know what I mean.” Her mouth was practically touching his ear. Her anger was like hot fire. He wanted to squirm away, but she wouldn’t let him. “We all have to atone, but whatever you’re thinking, stop it. You can’t tell the reverend anything now.”

Did she know about the man whom Buddy had called collateral damage? Was she just mind-fucking with him about Bernadette Fread? Trying to learn what he knew about Buddy? Digging, digging, digging. Well, she’d learn nothing from him. He would prove to Buddy what a good soldier he could be.

“I’m not saying anything.” He was firm on that.

“Good,” she said. “Keep your mouth shut about everything.” She moved away from him, and he could concentrate on the organ music that had swelled up and was making him feel calmer. Church was good.

He looked at Buddy, who’d moved to some remote place in his head. Boo willed him to stay away from her. They didn’t need her. They didn’t. If Buddy would just break from her, then maybe he wouldn’t be making any mistakes.

He thought about that long and hard. He wished, wished, wished she would just disappear.

And then she said, “And where’s Chase?”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dance and Jordanna walked into the Longhorn a little after eleven and found the place nearly deserted. Danny, at the bar, seemed to know exactly what they were thinking because he said, “Most people who come in here pretend they don’t go to church, but most of ’em do.”

They took the same booth they’d had the night before. Dance picked up a menu, but he wasn’t really looking at it. Jordanna didn’t know what he was thinking about, probably the detective who was on his way, but her mind kept turning over everything Virginia Fowler had said and intimated. That last line about making sure she didn’t have any children was stuck in her brain like a needle in a groove.

She stuck her nose inside the menu, the words an indistinct blur. She and Dance had made love a number of times in the last twenty-four hours with no regard for protection. She was fairly confident that it wasn’t a time she could get pregnant, but she was a bit astonished at the way she’d thrown caution to the wind. Hell, she hadn’t even really thought about it, which was . . . well, crazy.

“I’ve been thinking about the bombing,” Dance said, after the waitress had come by and taken their order for a beer and a Diet Coke. “I’m going to give this detective the audiotape, but I don’t think that’s why Saldano Industries was hit. I gave Max the tape. He was concerned about what was on it, worried something was going on through the warehouse they knew nothing about. I’m sure he told Victor about it, and maybe the word got out . . . but for someone to deliver a bomb? That’s hard-core. And let’s say they knew the tape was in the safe in Max’s office, which is where Max said he put it, would they really bomb the building for it?”

Jordanna shook her head, dispelling the remnants of her own thoughts. “I’ve never thought the bombing was about the audiotape,” she told him. “You didn’t, either, in the hospital.”

He smiled faintly. “What I knew in the hospital was that Max wasn’t there when he was supposed to be. That’s about as far as I got.”

“But you felt threatened. That’s why you came with me. Maybe it was at a gut level, but you knew something was wrong.”

Dance reached across the table and clasped her hands. “Maybe I was just weak . . . injured.”

“I think the bomb was meant for you,” Jordanna told him. “That hasn’t changed.”

“But why? I didn’t have anything on the Saldanos. I was looking into their operation, but it was low-key. No big investigation.”

“Yet. You were going to be ramping up, because that’s what you do,” she reminded him, “once you have some evidence.”

“But the audiotape doesn’t really give anything. It’s two guys maybe planning to smuggle in some illegal product, or maybe it’s just two guys bullshitting. The point is, it was never enough evidence of a crime on its own. That’s why I gave it to Max.”

The waitress appeared with their drinks. Dance let go of her hands and sat back. When they were alone again, he said, “Logically, an attack on me doesn’t make sense.”

“But you felt it, too. The danger. And it wasn’t just because you were hurt.”

“Yeah . . .” He frowned.

At that moment, a tall, dark-haired man pushed through the saloon doors. Lean and rugged in jeans and boots, he looked like he fit right in to the Rock Springs cowboy crowd. Spying them, he came straight over. His eyes were blue, a bit grayer than Dance’s, and he thrust out a hand to him, which Dance shook.

“August Rafferty,” he said, pulling out his ID for them both to examine. As he tucked it back, he shook Jordanna’s hand as well, and said, “You’re Jay Danziger and Jordanna Winters.”

“Yes, we are,” Dance said, as Jordanna slid her Coke to Dance’s side of the table, then took a seat beside him, inviting the detective to sit down across from them.

“Let me start by saying I’m not on the Saldano case any longer,” the detective jumped right in. “The feds have taken it over, and starting tomorrow, I’ll likely be assigned to something else. As far as I know, the feds are concentrating on the Saldanos and their business.” He looked at Jordanna. “They haven’t focused on you yet, but they will. Camera footage from Saldano Industries puts you there at the time of the bombing. They’re going to want to know what you were doing.”

“I was following Dance,” she said.

“My nickname,” Dance supplied.

“Why were you following him?” he asked Jordanna.

“Because I’m a reporter, and I guess you’d say an admirer,” she admitted, after a brief hesitation, “and I thought he was in danger.”

“You thought he was in danger prior to the bombing?” he asked, brows lifting.

“Just an intuition. Maybe a wrong one.” She shrugged.

“Did you feel like you were in danger?” he asked Dance.

“Some, maybe. There’s always a level of danger when you’re investigating a possible smuggling operation. . . .” Quickly, he explained about the audiotape and the fact that he’d given a copy to Max but another was in his safe deposit box. He finished with, “The man who made the tape had already left Saldano Industries by the time he gave it to me. He didn’t want the repercussions of being a whistleblower.”

“You should have told us this immediately,” he said.

“Yes, I should’ve,” Dance conceded. “But, I don’t think it’s the reason for the bombing.” He then related to Rafferty what he and Jordanna had just discussed.

“I’d like to listen to the tape,” he said.

“I’ll give you my copy, once I get it from the safe deposit box. I can get it to you tomorrow, after my bank opens.”

“I’m driving him back,” Jordanna put in. “He doesn’t have a car here.”

Rafferty mulled that over and said to Dance, “I thought the reason you hightailed out of the hospital so fast was because you thought you were in danger.”

“I’m ready to get some things straight with Maxwell,” Dance said, by way of an answer.

“If part of getting things straight includes telling him that you and Carmen are legally divorced, he and Victor already know,” the detective admitted. “I told them.”

“Carmen was the one who wanted to keep that a secret. Wonder how it went over.” Dance was faintly amused. “She’s back now, I take it.”

“Yep. And in case you’re wondering, she had your vehicle towed back to your house. She’s unhappy with how we’ve handled the investigation, specifically that we didn’t put out an APB on you. The last I spoke to her, she said she was hiring a private investigator.”

“Well, I guess I’ve got to do some straightening out with her, too,” Dance said, his long-suffering tone drawing a smile to Rafferty’s lips.

He sobered rapidly, however. “You’ll have to talk to the feds, too.”

Dance nodded slowly, accepting the inevitable.

“Is there anything else you can tell us about the investigation into the bombing?” Jordanna asked.

He said carefully, “I can only tell you what’s already been reported.”

“We haven’t really been keeping up with the news,” Jordanna said, thinking of their rustic living arrangements.

If Rafferty wondered why, he didn’t ask. “The investigation’s proceeding. Progress is being made. I can tell you that the bomb was simple, but effective, and triggered by a remote.”

“Remote,” Dance repeated. “There was no timing mechanism?”

“Whoever deployed it, did it wirelessly. It still may have been set up for a certain time, or it may have happened instantly, at the push of a button. We don’t know that yet.”

“It wasn’t the audiotape,” Jordanna broke in. “Dance could have made ten copies, a hundred,
thousands
. . . so what good would that do to bomb the building to remove the tape? Dance said there wasn’t that much on it anyway.” She looked at him for corroboration, and he shrugged and nodded, so she plowed on. “You want to know what I think?” she asked the detective. “This is about Dance. I’ve said it all along, and I’m saying it now.” She turned to Dance once again. “This is about you. You’re the threat. The investigator who won’t give. The terrier with a reputation for uncovering deep corporate secrets. Whoever it is isn’t trying to get rid of evidence. They’re trying to get rid of the man who seeks that evidence.”

There was a moment of silence as the waitress came to take their food order. As soon as she was gone, Rafferty gave Jordanna a long look.

“I’m kinda thinking you’re right,” he said.

Rafferty ordered the Longhorn’s Sunday breakfast—bacon, eggs, hash browns, and toast—while Dance had another Reuben and Jordanna picked at a green salad with limp-looking vegetables. They went over the case for another hour, with Rafferty still careful to give them only what had already been reported, and Dance only half-convinced he was the bomber’s ultimate target. The more they talked, the less comfortable Jordanna became.

“I don’t want you to go,” she finally said to Dance, when Rafferty took a trip to the men’s room.

“I don’t intend to stay long. After I get Rafferty the audiotape and meet with Max, I could be back by tomorrow night.”

“What’s all this ‘I’ stuff? I’m going with you.”

“I thought I might catch a ride with Rafferty. Bring back my own car.”

She was taken aback. “That’s what you want to do?”

“I want to stay with you,” he said. “But I want to take care of this, too.”

“You’re going to run into Carmen,” she said, then was shocked and slightly embarrassed that she’d mentioned that fear aloud.

“She’s my ex for a reason,” he assured her.

Yeah, but does she really feel that way?
Jordanna had no claim on him, and these past few days had been unreal, fraught with tension and danger. She didn’t want to have him face the Saldanos without her, but she also sensed he’d already made up his mind.

“You’ve got a lot going on here,” he said, “and I intend to be a part of it, when I get back. Somebody moved that body, and if the police are dragging their feet, I want to get on it and find out who.”

She nodded. He was right. She knew he was right.

“Don’t take any chances, while I’m gone,” he said suddenly.

“That’s my line.”

He smiled. “Hey, I’m going back with the law.”

“Yeah, but Rafferty’s not going to be with you the whole time.” She drew a quick breath. “How will I get hold of you?”

For an answer, he pulled his phone, wallet, and keys from his pocket. “I’ve kept all my stuff together. I’ll pick up a charger at the house and call you as soon as the phone’s up again. We’ll get Rafferty’s cell number. You can call him if you need to reach me.”

“He called my cell, so it’s on my phone already.”

“Good.”

Again, she’d barely touched her meal, but she had no appetite. “While you’re gone, I’ll talk to my father,” she told him. “I should’ve before, but after what Mrs. Fowler said, I’ve got a ton more questions.”

“Think of him as a source,” Dance said softly, sliding his arm around her, his chin on the top of her head.

She leaned into him and closed her eyes. What was happening between them felt so fragile. She was afraid this separation would break it. “You’re coming back.” It was said as a statement, but she heard the pleading in her voice, whether he did or not.

“Yes,” Dance said firmly, as the detective returned to the booth.

Her cell phone rang and she thought about ignoring it, but she plucked it from her purse and looked at the caller. Rusty. She let it go to voice mail, not wanting to miss a moment of Dance and Rafferty’s conversation. When Dance asked him if he could cadge a ride back to Portland with him, Rafferty was more than willing. As she processed the fact that he was really leaving, she heard the
ping
that announced she had a text. She ignored the text, but it hardly mattered as Dance and Rafferty’s conversation had moved right on by, decisions made, the deal set. She felt left out, and it frustrated her, especially when it looked like Dance was planning to take off immediately, not even go back to the homestead. “I’ll pick up some more clothes at home and come straight back,” he assured her.