"This is the time for deliveries, or repairs, whatever I need done before we open at three. In antic.i.p.ation of this meeting I called in one of my waitresses to help. Corinna is back there subbing for me." Then he grinned. "It's like a different place in the daylight and with the lights on and the music off, isn't it?"

"It is," Connor agreed. He turned his attention back to the meeting.

"I'm confused," O'Malley said. "How's getting his fingerprints going to help us? You said he couldn't be charged because of the statute of limitations."

"It eliminates supposition," Mel said. "So that we know for certain the man we are dealing with is Ralph Baxter."

"That's only going to be our first step," Connor said.

"You want him to implicate himself in the murder of that lawyer," Patrick Owen said. "That's what you're going after him for. Not for theft or misdirection of funds."

"That's right. And if we can't do it by the book, we'll be sneaky and underhanded," Mel said.

"Sometimes you do what you gotta do," Kemp said. Then he smirked. "Remind me to tell you a story sometime about duct tape."

Connor had actually heard a story about the somewhat laconic investigator and duct tape. He fought his smile.

"Is that why we're here?" O'Malley asked. "To do something sneaky and underhanded?" He didn't look too displeased by the prospect.

"In a way," Mel said. "First we positively identify Smith as Ralph Baxter. Then, the next time he's in town, we need to keep him here beyond the time he usually spends running his errands. We have to come up with a stalling tactic so Connor can work his magic."

"It will take me at least as long as he's usually here in town to search his house. When I planted those bugs, I was just in and out. But I also want to cover the outbuildings. h.e.l.l, it would probably take me at least a half hour to pick all the locks of the sheds he has out there."

"Sheds?" O'Malley looked from Connor to Ethan. "What kind of sheds?"

"Jack said they were fancy-a.s.s garages." Ethan looked over at Connor. "You met Jack Warner, one of my best friends and a partner in the Divine Creek Horse Ranch, when you were here a while back with Miss Bancroft. Jack is a contractor, and the man that Mr. Smith hired to erect a shed not long after he moved into his place. Jack took the job because, back then, he was hungry to get himself established and was happy enough to take any job. The man paid cash, that wasn't a problem. Jack just said the guy never took his eyes off him, gave him bad vibes. Then a couple of years later, he hired Jack to build three more sheds. Jack said he did it, but he wouldn't work for the guy again."

"I take it you jogged your friend's memory about Smith?" Connor asked.

"Yes, but it didn't take much jogging," Ethan said. "Jack has a good memory, and Smith really stood out. Adam's also been out to his place a couple of times, to repair the A/C." Then Ethan grinned. "Sorry, Adam Davis, my other best friend and partner in the Ranch. Adam said the same thing. Guy watched him like a hawk, then paid him in cash. Adam didn't mind being watched. He says it happens sometimes, because he works in people's homes."

"Smith, or Baxter, sounds like a man with a reason to worry about people snooping around," O'Malley said. "Maybe you'll find the reason why when you go out there. It'd be good if Chloe and her sister could get some justice."

"What are you going to do if you don't find anything?" Owen asked.

Connor looked at Mel and then over at Ace and Kemp. All three were smiling. Ace nodded, which meant he was sure both O'Malley and Owen would keep their mouths shut.

"All right then." He rubbed his hands together because there was a part of him that really hoped they got to enact this particular part of the plan. "Let me tell you what Mel and I have come up with, just in case all else fails."

Chapter 22.

"Hey, buddy, do you want to make a fast twenty bucks?"

Bruce Smith looked around, trying to figure out who'd called out to him. There, in the parking lot behind The Dancing Pony, a large refrigerated truck had been parked close to the building. By the back of the rig, with the door only half-open, stood a young man who motioned to him.

Normally, Smith would just ignore anyone calling out to him, and in fact almost just walked away.

But what if that brought him under even more scrutiny? What if this delivery guy b.i.t.c.hed to the man who ran the place? Then that guy-Grant, Smith recalled-would likely tell everyone what a rude b.a.s.t.a.r.d he was. Then folks would start watching for him, looking at him with their eyes narrowed, and their lips curled up in a snarl.

Lately, Smith had been feeling more and more paranoid. He knew his thinking was paranoid, too, but he couldn't seem to help himself. Something was up. He just had to try and figure out what the h.e.l.l was going on.

The last thing he needed was to draw even more attention to himself by acting like a rude a.s.shole.

So instead of ignoring the summons from trucker boy, which he really wanted to do, he nodded and walked over to him.

"Hey. What can I do for ya, buddy?"

"The f.u.c.king wheel came off my large dolly at the last delivery. a.s.shole pub owner and his f.u.c.king pothole-covered parking lot. I'll pay you twenty if you help me unload these canisters of soda syrup and lug them inside. Usually I can do it on one trip with my dolly, but h.e.l.l, that's busted and if I have to carry them all myself, I'm going to be even more late for my next delivery."

Carry a few canisters for a twenty? Kids sure as h.e.l.l didn't know the value of money these days. "Sure. I could use a fast twenty."

"Great. I figure just a couple of trips for each of us, and we're out of here. Here." The man handed him the bill, and Smith stuffed it in his pocket.

He loaded Smith up with two stainless steel canisters, and took two himself. The kid hit the door buzzer with his elbow. The door swung open. But it wasn't Mr. Grant standing there, it was one of the waitresses. "Hey, Corinna! How're ya doing? Where's the boss man?"

"I'm doing just great, Tommy. Come on in. Ethan's out front having some sort of a big meeting with those two detectives from out of town. Just put the canisters in the usual spot, and hand me the invoice when you're done, please."

"No problem. It'll just take us a couple trips. We have to carry them because the dolly broke."

Smith got an anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach. What detectives from out of town? Likely, it was just some business to do with the club, but still.

He carried the canisters in and tried to get a look into the bar area. Or were they meeting in Grant's office? He couldn't shake the feeling that if he could just have a look at what was going on, then he'd know if he had anything to worry about, or not.

He thought back to all the times in the last few months when he'd felt as if someone was watching him. He'd done his best to shake it off as just irrational fear. But the voices in his head would not be quiet any longer.

What if it those voices had actually been right all along? What if he really wasn't being paranoid? What if he really was in some sort of danger?

One thing Smith knew for certain, the cops wouldn't be after him for the money he'd taken. The statute of limitations had pa.s.sed on that. They wouldn't waste their time and taxpayer dollars when he couldn't even be charged with anything.

But taking money wasn't all he'd done, and for the other thing, there was no statute of limitations.

And if they were the other kind of detectives...he didn't think about it often but he knew he still owed that b.a.s.t.a.r.d Brody Carp a lot of money. h.e.l.l, did loan sharks even hire private d.i.c.ks in this day and age? Would Brody Carp go to so much trouble just to get his quarter of a mil back? Smith worried his bottom lip. It had been a lot of years, more than fifteen, since his payment deadline had come and gone. Loan sharks didn't write off outstanding balances. Not unless the person they'd loaned the money to was dead. And sometimes, he knew, not even then. Figuring in the rate of interest Carp charged and it was a f.u.c.k of a lot more money than a quarter mil by now.

It was d.a.m.n sure a h.e.l.l of a lot more money than he had left.

Smith's mind shot back to a time when he'd been waiting to see the man, waiting to ask him for more credit for the c.r.a.ps table...at one time he'd thought c.r.a.ps was his game, but now of course, he knew his game was Texas Hold'em. He'd overheard Carp order one of his goons to go and pay a visit to a man who was late paying him, and told his lackey exactly what he'd wanted done to the poor, unfortunate sap.

Carp had looked over, seen him shudder, and known he'd overheard. And what had that b.a.s.t.a.r.d said to him at the time?

You can't let anyone get away with anything these days, Baxter. No, siree, that just sets a bad example, and that's bad for business.

Smith swallowed hard. His head spun a little and his pulse raced. Desperation filled him. I have to find out what the h.e.l.l is going on here!

He hefted the second load of canisters, then reentered the club. He set them down neatly where he'd put the first load. He turned to the woman. No recognition lit her face. He didn't think she'd ever served him. He usually sat at the bar, so it was one of the two owners who grabbed his brew for him.

"Excuse me, miss. Can I use the john?"

"Sure. It's just through there and to the left."

He didn't tell her he knew where the john was. He just headed in the direction she'd pointed. He looked over his shoulder, not surprised when Corinna and Tommy fell into conversation. They seemed to know and like each other, and he was glad for the distraction.

Instead of turning left, as he would need to for the bathrooms, he turned right, and edged forward when he heard the voices coming from out on the floor of the club.

He recognized the guy that owned the place, and two of the big bruisers sitting there he thought he'd seen out and about in town for a couple of years now. Two other guys looked familiar, too, but he couldn't place...ah, the ma.s.sage parlor! Yes, that was it. They hung out with the hooker giving those "ma.s.sages." Smith nearly snorted. Takes all kinds I guess. Then he put his eyes on the other two men.

They were strangers to him and looked like cops. They were probably the detectives the waitress had mentioned. Then one of them spoke.

"The first thing we have to do is prove beyond a doubt that Bruce Smith is in fact Ralph Baxter, and the best way to do that is through fingerprints."

Smith nearly pa.s.sed out then and there. He had to work hard at not making a sound, even as he tried to focus on what was being said. He missed the next little bit, so he edged ever so subtly closer.

"Okay, good. We could probably grab Mr. Smith's gla.s.s later today," Ethan said. "I expect he'll be in."

One of the bruisers nodded. "I agree. If he follows pattern, he should already be in town, on his way to the cleaners to pick up his laundry. His route doesn't change much from week to week. From the cleaners, he then heads over to eat at Rudy's, and then he stops in here. Mr. Smith has his regulation two beers and is on his way again in less than an hour. His last stop is always Batson's Grocery Store."

Smith kicked the wall as he jerked back. Everything inside him began to feel icy cold. He didn't wait to hear any more, but turned and headed back toward the back door. He nodded to Corinna, and Tommy, who said a "Thanks, man," as he walked past him.

Smith wanted to run, but instead, he walked. He got back into his car, started it, and then sat unseeing for a long moment. His ears filled with the sound of his heart pounding.

"s.h.i.t. s.h.i.t. s.h.i.t." He'd heard his name, his real name. Grant had said he was going to get his fingerprints. What had that other guy said? They would get Bruce Smith's fingerprints so that they could prove that he was Ralph Baxter.

"s.h.i.t. s.h.i.t. s.h.i.t." His car was idling, so he pulled out into traffic. He had to think. He had to calm down and think. There had to be a way to buy himself some time. He could get away. He had one more ident.i.ty and that credit card. He was within two hours' drive of seven of his safe-deposit boxes. He could clean them out, then become, again, and get the h.e.l.l out of the area.

h.e.l.l, this time he would not only get out of Texas, he'd get out of the country, period.

The kind of money he could pull together in a couple hours would buy him a h.e.l.l of a nice life down in Mexico.

All he needed was some time, just a bit of time. He needed a way to ensure he'd be left alone long enough to do what he needed to do. He needed another car, and maybe some insurance, too.

f.u.c.k, he needed to have a plan, but more, he needed to buy himself that time to think things through.

He needed to buy it, or barter it. Or, he thought suddenly, maybe he could take it in trade. Insurance. Yeah, he'd get himself some insurance and maybe two of those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds back at The Dancing Pony would care enough about their piece of a.s.s to hold the others off.

"These pretty lingerie sets are going to be perfect. Thank you so much, Summer." Emily Anne sighed as she handed over her credit card.

"That red bra and the crotchless panties are going to wow those men of yours, and I can just imagine what their reaction is going to be to the paddle and fur-lined handcuffs you got." Then Summer picked up a small bottle and wiggled it between her thumb and forefinger, smiling. "I knew you'd go for the flavored lube. I had faith in your spirit of adventure." Summer laughed, and that laugh lit up her whole face. "And it's my pleasure, Emily Anne."

As she rang up the sale, Emily Anne thought once again about the question she'd considered asking Summer as she'd driven here from Divine. Finally, she inhaled deeply, decision made.

"Can I ask you about something? It's not gossip, really. Or maybe it is a little bit, but I mean no harm by it. It's just...when I was here a few weeks back, you had another customer in here at the same time, a beautiful, tall woman I likened, in my mind, to an Amazon."

Summer chuckled. "Lucy Carter. I think she'd get a kick out of being likened to an Amazon. What was your question?"

"When I told her I was from l.u.s.ty, she got this look on her face, like she'd eaten something really bad. I didn't understand at the time, but I think I do, now."

Summer sighed. "I'm sure it wasn't personal, Emily Anne. It's just that one of the men she's in love with, Beck O'Malley...well, he was hurt, and hurt very badly by a woman who left him and went to live in l.u.s.ty."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Emily Anne sighed. "Chloe Rhodes. She's my best friend."

"Oh! Oh, dear. That's kind of sticky, isn't it?"

"The thing is...oh, I know it's none of my business, but as much as Beck must have been suffering over that break-up, Chloe was, too. And I thought, well, if I could just speak to Lucy, I could let her know that Chloe isn't a bad person." Emily Anne felt her bottom lip quiver, just a little. Maybe her feelings for Chloe were over the top, but she really was the closest friend she had. That someone would think badly of her hurt. She inhaled deeply, and worked at getting control of her emotions. "I just think that Beck and Chloe were never really meant to be together."

Summer tilted her head. "This is something that's important to you, is it?"

"It is, and I don't know if I can really explain why. I've been thinking about it a lot, lately. Chloe was here, but then she had to leave. Her sister was in l.u.s.ty at the time, so she went there, to be with Carrie. And, well a lot of things took place right around then..." Emily Anne realized that unless she told the entire story, Summer wouldn't understand just what it was she was saying. "Something very traumatic happened just after Chloe came to l.u.s.ty. A man who was a s.e.xual predator, and who had been after Carrie from when she was a kid in foster care, came to town. But instead of getting his hands on Carrie, he grabbed Chloe instead. It was a very tense and dangerous situation, and in the middle of it all, Chloe was forced to kill him in order to save the life of Adam Kendall, the-"

"He's l.u.s.ty's sheriff! I heard about how he organized the rescue of Jayne Sheridan and Toby when they were kidnapped by that crazy French guy. Jayne is now married to Seth Carter-"

"Who is Lucy's brother! Yes! Oh, don't you see? It's all connected, and now Chloe is marrying Grant and Andrew Jessop and Lucy is with Beck and..." Emily Anne frowned, because she couldn't recall the name of the other man in that triad.

"Patrick Owen." Summer looked at her for a long moment, and Emily Anne had no idea what she was thinking. But she had a slight smile on her face, so it couldn't be that Summer thought that she, Emily Anne, needed professional help.

Ever since she'd had her nails done at Chloe's, she'd been thinking about how everything really was connected. It was as if Karma was crossing over, and then back, tying the people of these two towns together, creating bridges and bonds and making a difference in lives.

Because Chloe had left Beck, she'd been there to be taken in place of her sister, and ended up saving Adam's life. And because she had fallen in love with those firemen, Beck was now free and there was Lucy, who, Emily Anne just knew in her heart of hearts, was meant to be with him.

It was all connected, and it was all just exactly as it should be.

"Do you know what? I bet if you sat down and talked with her-if you told her everything that you've just told me-I'd bet that would help. I think you and Lucy have more than one thing in common."

Emily Anne couldn't think what she could have in common with that beautiful Amazon. But she really did want to do this one thing.

"Do you think she would talk to me?"

Summer looked at her watch. "It's nearly lunch time. Why don't I call her and see if she has time today to see you. Do you know Divine at all?"

"I really don't. I know how to get to The Dancing Pony. I'm to meet my men there when I'm finished with what I needed to do. But that's about it."

"You just wait right here, and I'll be back in a moment."

Summer handed Emily Anne her credit card and the slip to sign, and then she went into the back of the shop.

Ten minutes later, Emily Anne was in Mel's car, headed toward Divine, with directions to Lucy's spa and a willing, if not exactly eager, reception awaiting her.

Emily Anne covered the distance from Discretion in about a half hour. Divine was larger than l.u.s.ty, and she made a couple of wrong turns but soon she was parking on Main Street, just down from A Divine Retreat. As she approached the store, she admired the ruby-red Ford Escape that was parked just down from it, on the same side of the street. The paint sparkled in the Texas sun and Emily Anne imagined being behind the wheel of the snazzy vehicle and zipping down a country road with the windows opened wide and tunes blasting out from the radio.

Emily Anne pa.s.sed Divine Ink, and looked in the window, but she couldn't see anyone. She'd only seen Seth Carter the one time, when he'd brought his little boy into l.u.s.ty Appet.i.tes while Jayne had been asleep over at the clinic. She wondered how Toby was doing. He'd been a real sweetheart, good as gold, and had stolen the heart of the entire town.