Unlock the Truth

Chapter Eight

Back in the guest room, Dena changed out of her long skirt and silk blouse, and slipped on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers. She grimaced at the pains she’d taken to look nice for Zeke. How much she’d looked forward to dining alone with him.

It was barely eight in the evening when she hurried across the back verandah, and she figured it would still be warm out. A walk would be fabulous. Her body needed the exercise, and her mind the peace and quiet. Almost at the pool, she stopped, looked around, and figured she’d explore the lake and focus on the dinner conversation while it was still fresh. Maybe she’d discover that clue she was convinced was buried in Zeke’s words.

She shivered in the cool night air, gripped both arms tight to her chest, ducked her head, and ran back to the hacienda and up the verandah steps. She almost collided with Zeke as he strode out the back door.

“Oh,” he said, and grabbed her arm to steady her. He released his grip, and stared in the direction of the stables, his mouth set in a stern line. “I’m taking José for a run…think over what Quimby said.”

“That’s nice.” She hesitated a moment, and then frowned. “Do horses like to go out when it’s dark?”

He looked down at her. “They see well at night.”

“Huh. I didn’t know that.” She shivered, and gripped her upper arms. “I’m going for a walk, but had to come back for a jacket. It’s freezing.”

“It’s the desert.”

She tried not to laugh, although she had to bite the inside of her cheek. He was no talker. It was obvious tonight’s emotional conversation had left him spent. He probably needed the physical release of a good hard ride as much as she needed to go for a run.

“See you later,” he said, and hurried down the steps. “Don’t go too far from the house—”

“Okay. Have a nice ride.”

She watched him stride away. He’d changed into jeans and boots. They suited him. All he needed was a cowboy hat. Why he hated the land, she had no idea. He fit the role of farmer, or cowboy, to perfection.

Dena hurried to her room, grabbed a hooded sweatshirt and slipped it on. About to leave, her cell phone rang. She could let it go to voice mail. She sighed, picked up the phone on the fourth ring, and checked the incoming number.

Ugh. Please, don’t let it be one of Mom’s arguments with Aunt Ruthie.

She took a deep breath and blew it out. “Hi Mom, what’s up?”

“Hi,” her mother said, and giggled. “Ruthie wants to talk to you.”

Ruth’s hoarse smoker’s voice came across the phone loud and clear. “Guess where we are?”

“I’ve no idea,” Dena said, still confused about her mother’s giggle. “How are you, Aunt Ruth?”

“Good. And so is your mother. I’m getting her better—”

“That’s nice. What are you ladies doing?” She kept her fingers crossed that Ruth wasn’t giving her mother alcohol. Her mother never giggled.

“We’re at the House of Blues. I’ll put your Mom back on.”

“What?” Dena frowned. “The House of—?”

“We wanted to go clubbing.”

Dena thought she sounded like a sulky teenager. “Well, that’s…um…good I suppose—”

“We’re having fun,” her mother said, and started to laugh. She hiccupped and laughed again.

“The crowd is a bit young, isn’t it?” Dena asked.

It was Saturday night. She used to be the rep for half of the black-leather crowd that frequented those places. But her mother was sixty-two. Aunt Ruth was sixty-five. They both chose platinum blond hair, and almost always dressed in beige or winter-white, their skinny legs and scrawny necks making them look like a couple of cranes.

“There’s a few old ducks here,” her mother laughed. “There are some cute older gentlemen, too.”

“Don’t drink alcohol,” Dena said firmly, although she figured she was too late on that. “With your medications it could be dangerous. Is Ruthie drinking?”

“You worry too much. A cocktail or two never hurt anyone. You work too hard. If your sister was here—” Her mother’s voice went soft. “Carli would have come with us, and she would have let her hair down.”

Dena grimaced. Always a sore point between them; she was no fun. She braced herself for the next barbs, because when her mother was on a roll—

“But not you my little workaholic,” her mother said. “You’re my serious child. You don’t know how to have fun.”

“That’s not fair,” Dena said sharply. “Of course I do.”

“You’re so much like your father, not that he wasn’t nice to be around in some ways. But serious, boy, you don’t know the half of it.”

Dena frowned and sat on the side of the bed. She didn’t want to get into one of their never-ending arguments. Not now. “We’ve discussed this before, Mom. I just am who I am. I like to work—”

“When are you coming home? Ruthie wants to take us out somewhere really swank.”

Mom had been drinking. She never used words like swank. Darn. She couldn’t accuse her. That would surely start a fight. But she could hear it in her mother’s voice and in her barbs. Mom hadn’t been this talkative or happy-go-lucky in a long, long, time.

Dena sighed. “I’ll leave right away if—”

“No. Don’t worry about us,” her mother said quickly. “Ruthie hired a limo. Our driver’s name is Chuck. He’s a big bruiser of a guy. He’s outside in the stretch.”

A stretch limousine, what was Ruthie up to? At least her aunt had thought about safety. “You’re sure you’ll be okay?”

“Having a blast, got to go, band will be back in five—”

“Okay. I’m not sure when I’ll be home, but call me anytime.”

“Sure.”

“Are there any interesting try-out bands tonight?” Dena asked. She hoped to end on a friendly note instead of the reverse role they’d just played. She felt like the mother in this scenario.

“Some aren’t too bad.”

Dena thought of the young bands that played the early crowd at House of Blues. Many of the band members were still in high school, so their parents chaperoned. She supposed the two old ladies were safe. And they did have Chuck, the bruiser.

“Good. Have fun with Aunt Ruth, and I’ll check in tomorrow. I love you.”

“You too,” her mother said.

Dena rolled her eyes and tossed the cell phone onto the bed. Fat chance she’d be having any fun. She was the unwanted overnight guest, in a convent.

Minutes later, Dena jogged toward the lake. Warmth spread through her muscles, and she enjoyed the sound of her feet pounding along the same trail she’d taken with Zeke on this morning’s ride. So much had happened in one day it felt like she’d been at Three C’s for a week.

She turned toward the water. When the lake came into sight, she slowed to a walk. The sky was clear and black with millions of stars. She twirled around, face up to the darkness. No smog like in L.A.

Why did Zeke hate this place so much? The moon sparkled on the tips of the tiny waves caused by the wind. The night felt romantic. She laughed at her thoughts, sat on a tree stump at the lake’s edge, and hoped no critters lurked.

Her thoughts drifted away from the tenseness of the day as she soaked up the sounds of nature. Ten minutes later the clop clop of horse’s hooves broke the silence. She prayed it was Zeke. She was out here alone and had forgotten her cell phone. Not that she figured it would be of much use if this was a bad man. She grabbed a large rock and peered through the dark at the approaching horse.

Zeke climbed down, whispered something to José and walked toward her. “You weren’t going to lob that at me, were you?” he asked with a tilt of his chin toward her hand.

Her fear evaporated, and she let out the breath she’d held. “I might have. Sorry.” She put the rock down. “I was good at softball back in high school.”

He gave a short laugh and watched her for a moment. “I played baseball…better at pitching than hitting. By the way, that’s my thinking seat you’re on.”

“Oh,” she said. “Well there’s room for two. Would you like to sit?” She scooted along the stump.

He sat and stretched out his long legs. “I come here almost every night,” he said, and turned to face her. “But you shouldn’t walk around out here, not by yourself.”

He was worried, protecting her? That was nice. A little burst of warmth spread through her body. “I’m fine,” Dena said.

“Look, you can’t be too careful.”

“If you’re worried about the murderer, I think he dated Carli, and Susie. I’ve been thinking about it, and—”

“I doubt it. This is a small community. Someone would have come forward with that info and—”

“Well, I don’t think it was rape. It was sex, at least in Carli’s case. I’m sure about that, probably a date that turned bad.” She shot him a sidelong look, and even in the dark could detect his tension. “There was no evidence of, you know…tears and stuff…no evidence of roughness.”

Zeke shuddered, raised one hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we talk about something else?”

Man, he’s sensitive. “Sure. But I’d like to find out from Stanton if that was also the case with Susie.”

He blew out a long breath, and rubbed at his jaw for a while. “Yeah, I’ll see what I can find out.”

She knew, by the sudden increase in tension in his body, that this wasn’t a topic he wanted to pursue. She might have to ask Stanton herself. Heck, Zeke was a lawyer and he should be used to asking questions about all kinds of gruesome stuff. She watched his profile for a while, until finally his mouth relaxed.

She’d never been able to discuss her thoughts with anyone, not Steve, nor her mother. It surprised her how easy it was to talk about Carli to Zeke, but she knew when not to push.

“As a change of topic,” she said, leaned forward and turned her face up to his. “We could talk about my non-existent relationship with my mother. She just called to insult me.”

“You okay?”

Dena laughed. “Let’s say I’m used to it. We don’t understand each other. Never have, probably never will.”

Zeke looked out over the water. Something, not tension, more sadness, or an acceptance of life as it is, emanated from him. She’d forgotten for the moment that he’d recently lost his mother. That was careless of her.

“But you keep trying,” he said, and nodded his head slowly a few times. “That’s important.”

She’d given up trying a long time ago, but for obvious reasons wouldn’t tell him that. He might get the impression that she was cold and unfeeling. “Do you want to know my plan to improve your public image?”

“Sure.” He shifted his body, relaxed a little more, and turned to face her.

“You mentioned your mother’s paintings,” Dena said. “What about an art show and sale? You could give the proceeds to a local charity.”

He rubbed a hand over his jaw and stared off into the distance again. It seemed he did that often. She waited quietly for the decision. Her hands were clasped so tight that she thought all circulation might stop.

Finally he nodded. “Not a bad idea—”

“Great. Fabulous.”

The excitement of work soared through her. She’d always been happiest when planning a new project. Even as a kid, she’d barely finish one and then she’d plan the next. And this way she’d learn more about the casita, and his mother, and she’d get to help him even if from a distance. Well, that is, if she could convince him to let her stay…but, one thing at a time.

“I could build some good publicity for the event,” Dena said softly, tamping down her excitement. “Your mother was well-liked in the community. We could take a look at the paintings tomorrow, before I leave—”

“Okay.”

“I’m happy to tell you how to set up the event. Or, you could sign with Steve, and he’d advise you.”

Zeke reached over and took her hand in his. “I’m sorry about…you know…back there at dinner—”

“It’s okay,” Dena said. “I don’t understand why I have to leave, but I respect your history with Rocky. And I understand it’s hard for you to talk about your mother.”

She stared across the lake at the dark shape of what must be the old ranch house. There was a second story on one side, like a tower. She narrowed her eyes. Was that a glimmer of light, a flash of a candle, or a beam of a flashlight in the window? She stared harder but it was gone. It was probably just a reflection of the moon off the water.

“Is that the old house that your grandfather built?”

“Mmmm, the old ranch house—”

“Is it really abandoned?”

“Yes. I’m going to have it pulled down, eventually.”

“I’d love to explore it,” Dena said. “I’ll bet it has a great history—”

“Yeah, Argentinian, Spanish, and early Coachella Valley history.” He shrugged. “There are boxes of stuff up in the attic.”

She might visit it in the morning. Anything that would cast a light on the topic at dinner would be helpful. And, she’d sensed there had been something important about the old house that Irma had prevented Manny from saying this afternoon.

Zeke turned. “I used to go there with Rocky when we were young. We’d always find things—”

“Would any of those collectibles be valuable?”

“Probably not, I doubt any museum would pay for them. My grandfather and his brother were big collectors, but it was mostly cheap stuff. Rocky likes that type of thing.”

“Does he have family here?”

He turned toward her and she could see his frown. “Rocky?”

“Yeah—”

“No. He never knew his parents. He was a foster-care kid. St. Matthews took care of him through one of their programs. He moved to our place in his early teens.”

“Oh…interesting,” Dena said. “That might answer for some of his, ah…personality quirks.”

Zeke laughed. “He’s not always gruff. Anyway, he often has lunch there, at the abandoned house. He says he can watch the workers in the fields from the upper level.”

“That’s a good idea.” She stared up at the second story tower. Had that been a light she’d seen? Was he also living there, sleeping there? She kept her voice soft and even, although her heart raced about a mile a minute.

“That’s an excellent plan. He’d get to see who was a slacker.”

Minutes passed in companionable silence.

“So, you’re leaving tomorrow?” Zeke asked, and nudged her shoulder with his.

“Unless you want me to stay,” she said softly, and turned to face him with a smile.

****

They were so close he could see the gleam of her teeth. That was a good sign. At least she didn’t hold tonight’s earlier argument against him. Did he really want her to go? She’d done so much for him already. How long had it been since he’d talked about his mother? It had felt good to get all of that off his chest.

“I do. But only if you kiss me again,” he said, his voice teasing.

Dena pulled in a quick breath. “That could be arranged.”

“Look, Dena,” he said, his voice turning serious. “You staying or going, it’s not really up to me—”

“You’re wrong.” She shivered, and hunkered down into her thin sweatshirt. “You’re the boss.”

“Let’s not start that conversation again, okay?”

He slipped an arm around her shoulders and rubbed the top of her arm. She leaned a little closer. The moment elongated. His heartbeat pounded, and their breath mingled. He tilted her chin with one finger, and he thought for sure his heart would explode if he didn’t kiss her.

“Thank you for everything,” he said.

“You’re—”

His lips touched hers and captured her words into a kiss that spun his world upside down. She sighed, leaned into him and deepened the contact. She searched his mouth like she’d searched his mind. He had one hand in her hair, his fingers massaging her scalp. His other hand slipped up underneath her shirt, explored her back. She gasped.

“You okay?” he asked, and nuzzled her neck.

“Perfect. Cold hand,” she murmured as she met his mouth again.

He started to smile, then traced her lips with his tongue. She kissed him hungrily. Damn, she felt amazing. She slid her hands up underneath his shirt, played her fingers up and down his back like he was a musical instrument, while his hands sought out the warmth of her breasts. If he didn’t stop this soon he’d take her right here, on the grass at the foot of his thinking seat.

About to unclasp her bra, he pulled away. “This isn’t a good idea,” he murmured, but kissed her cheek, and then trailed tiny kisses down her neck.

“Why?” she asked, the word coming out on a gush of air.

“You know why. The timing is all wrong. Maybe later—”

“It feels right to me. Why should we worry about what everyone else thinks?”

“We need to slow down, consider the circumstances. You’re a beautiful woman. Believe me this isn’t easy, having to back away.”

Dena closed her eyes. He felt her rapid heartbeat and her overheated body, and knew it was a good match for his own. She kept her eyes shut, and her breath came in rapid warm puffs. He stroked her back, waited for the rush of passion to subside in both of them. After a long shuddery intake of breath she eased the air out through parted lips and opened her eyes. She was so beautiful, all mussed up and pouty lipped, and he had to look away.

“I trust you, Zeke,” she said, smoothed her hair and her clothes. “Whatever you say, whatever you think—”

“Good. That means a lot to me.” He stood, and offered his hand. His jeans could use some rearranging, but he didn’t want to draw attention to that part of his anatomy. “Want to walk back with me and José?”

“Sure.”

Dena walked over and ran a hand down the horse’s nose. José whinnied and nuzzled at her hand. “I’m sorry, I don’t have a treat for you,” she said. “Wha—”

Zeke scooped her up in his arms. She nestled against him, laughing and trying to catch her breath. He inhaled vanilla, and shampoo, and something else that made up her signature scent, and all of his earlier longing returned like a punch to the gut.

“What did you do that for?” she asked.

“To hear you laugh.”

She closed her eyes, and he kissed her eyelids. He’d known her for two days, and yet he’d know her if he was blindfolded and she wasn’t able to speak. About to take another long inhale of her scent, he thought better of it, especially as he had to walk home. And walking was already difficult. He lifted her higher, spun her around.

“Oh, my,” she said.

“Grab on.”

She laughed again as her bottom hit the leather of the saddle and she almost slid off. The horse turned his head. Zeke grinned. The weariness and worry of the past few days had left him, and he wondered how long it had been since he’d relaxed and played.

“I figured José should get to take a pretty lady for a ride,” Zeke said. “Right my man?” He patted the horse, took the reins, and walked ahead.

They ambled along, flitting from one topic to another, movies, books, sports. When they got to the stables he helped her dismount, and she hurried to the bucket where she selected two pieces of apple.

Zeke rubbed José down, put him in his stall, and Dena gave the horse his treats. She stood slightly apart from him, her arms wrapped tight around her chest, her big blue eyes wide and watching him closely. He liked being here with her, doing something as simple as tending to his horses.

“Let’s go up to the hacienda and get you warm,” Zeke said, knowing he had to stop his random thoughts. He was becoming far too comfortable. He closed the barn door behind them, drew her close, and arm-in-arm they hurried up the path to the hacienda.

“I enjoyed tonight, Dena.”

“Good. I did, too.”

Once inside, it got a bit awkward. How did they part ways now? They both wanted more. They reached the long hallway, and Zeke stopped outside her room. “At some future time, I’d like to invite you out to dinner—”

“A date, huh?”

He’d sounded so formal with his invitation, hadn’t intended to, but she did strange things to him. “Yes, a date,” he said, and gave her a lopsided grin. “What do you say?”

“I say, yes.”

He leaned down, kissed her once, a brush of lips on lips. He couldn’t risk anything more. A deeper kiss and he’d be throwing caution to the wind, and her bedroom door was wide open.

She pressed her lips together, as if tasting their kiss, and he had to look away.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, and strode down the hall.

He heard her murmured response and sensed she still watched him. He turned. She was there, leaning against the door jamb. He raised a hand in farewell before entering his own room and closing the door. How long had it been since he’d allowed himself to play like he had tonight? Dena had laughed and talked, allowed him to put her on the horse, and they’d made out like a couple of randy teenagers.

What a pity she had to leave. But did she?

He ruminated on that as he stepped out of his clothes and left them where they fell. He walked over, opened the window, and peered out at the night sky. Tomorrow was a new day, and he’d approach Rocky again with a well thought-out plan.

Who knew what the light of day might bring?