Son of Texas (Count on a Cop) Page 5

  “Her name is Ashley,” Belle said suddenly.

  “What?” Caleb wasn’t sure what she was talking about. He was totally absorbed in her mouth and tongue.

  “My half sister, that’s her name.”

  “Oh.”

  Caleb took a sip of coffee and waited for her to continue.

  “That doesn’t feel right, though.” Belle clutched her cup, and her turmoil tightened his gut.

  “Don’t push it. We’ll be in Beckett soon and hopefully some of your questions will be answered.”

  Her eyes suddenly sparkled. “You and I have something in common. We both have a half sibling.”

  “Yeah.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her face, that light in her eyes.

  “I hope my sister is as nice as Eli.”

  Caleb wished that, too, and he wished all her memories would unfold like a fairy tale. But the stark truth was someone tried to kill her, possibly someone in her own family.

  “Lorna is my father’s ex-wife.” Belle seemed to be remembering tidbits at her own pace. “And I have an uncle—Mason is his name, I believe. And I remember Caddo.”

  “Who is Caddo?”

  “I don’t know. I just remember the name and I get a good feeling inside when I do. I must have liked him.”

  Caleb toyed with his cup. He knew she wasn’t married, but little things pointed to a boyfriend, a fiancé maybe. When she’d started remembering in the hospital, she’d said that he’d bought her Egyptian cotton sheets and she’d told him they were too expensive. She could never pinpoint who he was, and she hadn’t mentioned him since. Maybe Caddo was the man she’d been talking about.

  He pushed his jealousy down, keeping her best interest uppermost in his mind. “Could Caddo be a boyfriend?”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s not that kind of feeling. It’s more of a friendship reaction.”

  That was a relief, but Caleb knew if it wasn’t Caddo, it was someone else. And he had to accept that.

  Soon they left and Caleb held the door for an elderly man, puffing on a cigar. Belle twitched her nose as they walked to the car. “That cigar is so strong.”

  “They’ll probably make him put it out,” Caleb remarked, getting into the truck.

  They turned onto US 59 toward Beckett. The land was flat with scrub oaks, bushes, mesquite and plenty of cacti. This was farming and ranch land enclosed with barbed wire fences.

  “Are you okay?” Caleb asked after she remained quiet for several minutes.

  “I’m remembering all these names, but I don’t feel a connection to any of them.”

  “You said you came to Beckett after your parents died. The report said you’d been there less than a year so you probably didn’t get to know anyone very well.”

  “Well enough that someone put a bullet in my head. I keep asking myself why. Why would someone shoot me? And why did I wake up in Austin? That’s three and a half hours from Beckett.”

  “We’ll find out soon enough.” Caleb had no answers for her, he only had the same questions. She was so sweet, so completely enchanting. He couldn’t imagine anyone having a grudge against her or wanting to hurt her.

  “Yeah.” She glanced out the window

  “Do you remember anything about your grandfather?” That bothered Caleb the most. How could a powerful man like Boone Beckett not report his granddaughter missing?

  The scent of the cigar triggered a memory. “He’s a controlling manipulative person.” Belle watched the barbed wire fences flash by and Boone suddenly filled her mind. She closed her eyes as a scene became vivid.

  “I’m Boone Beckett, Brett’s father.” The bear of a man standing in her parents’ living room introduced himself. He puffed on a cigar and the smoke spiraled around his face. The wind left her lungs and she couldn’t speak.

  “Did you hear me, girlie?” His voice boomed and she had the urge to step back. But she didn’t. Her father had never backed down from him and she wouldn’t, either.

  She swallowed hard. “Yes.”

  “I’m here to take my son’s body home to Silver Spur.”

  “What about my mother’s?”

  His eyes darkened. “Her body will never rest on the Silver Spur. She took him away from his heritage, his family, and I’ll never forgive that.”

  Anger welled in her chest. “She didn’t take him away. You forced him to leave by manipulating his life and not allowing him to marry the woman he loved.”

  “He could have had any woman he wanted,” Boone shouted.

  “He wanted my mother,” she shouted back.

  Boone glared at her through narrowed eyes. “Listen, girlie, I’m not arguing with you.” He pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. “Sign this and our business is over.”

  “What is it?”

  “Form to release your father’s body to me.”

  She raised her head in defiance. “My father stays buried next to my mother—forever. That’s it.”

  “What’s it going to take. Ten thousand? Twenty thousand? Tell you what—I’ll give you fifty thousand dollars and you sign the paper and we’re done.”

  “Get out,” she screamed. “Get out and take your money with you.”

  “Do you know who you’re talking to, girlie?”

  Her eyes blazed. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  He stuffed the paper in his pocket. “Since you’re Brett’s daughter I was trying to be nice. Figured you could use the money. But Brett’s body is going home to Silver Spur with or without your approval. All I have to do is get a court order and no judge is going to say no to me.”

  “Get out and don’t come back,” she seethed between clenched teeth.

  He inclined his head. “You got guts, girl. I’ll give you that, but it’s always smart to know when to cut your losses.”

  With that the memory dissipated. She opened her eyes, staring out at the long expanse of highway. Her thoughts were inward, troubled. Had Boone removed her father’s body from the cemetery, from her mother, in Corpus to the Silver Spur Ranch? Think. Think. Think. Did Boone separate her parents? She had to know and she struggled to remember what had happened next. But nothing was there.

  “Dammit. Dammit. Tell me.” She gripped her head with both hands.

  “Are you okay?”

  Caleb’s concerned voice reached her. She blinked, realizing she’d been talking out loud. “Sorry. I was having an insane moment trying to remember something.”

  “What?”

  “When my parents died, Boone came to Corpus, wanting to take my father’s body back to the Silver Spur Ranch. He demanded that I sign the papers to release the body. I refused and we had words.” She swallowed. “You see, he wanted my father to be buried at Silver Spur, but not my mother. I told him to leave and never come back.”

  She paused. “I couldn’t bear the thought of separating my parents. They were so much in love, yet at times there was a sadness in my father that neither my mom nor I could assuage. He loved the Silver Spur and he missed it every day of his life, but Boone made it intolerable for him to live there. My mother was a Mexican and not good enough for a Beckett.”

  “Evidently Boone came back.”

  “I guess. That’s what I was trying to recall—if he had my father’s body moved away from my mother. I couldn’t live with that.”

  “Do you know how you came to live in Beckett?”

  Her head felt heavy with all the memories rushing in. “Yes. I was at loose ends after losing my parents. I needed to get away. Boone kept at me about my dad’s body, but I never gave in. Finally he said he’d make a deal with me. He wanted me to come to Silver Spur to see the heritage my father had left behind. If I came and stayed for a while, he’d stop his efforts to move the body. So I went. I wanted to see this place my father talked about all my life.” She took a ragged breath. “Boone didn’t separate my parents, but we were still arguing about it. Boone and I didn’t have the best relationship, and Lorna and Mason seemed to hate me. But I stayed. I’m not
sure why.”

  “Did you live on the Silver Spur?”

  “No. I lived in town with a friend of my mom’s, Lencha Peabody. My mother’s mother died when she was five and Lencha helped raise her. Lencha and her family lived next door. Oh.” She rested her head against the seat with a slight smile. “It’s so nice to remember Lencha. She’s Mexican with a bit of Karankawas Indian. She’s known as a healer and sometimes a witch, but to my mom she was like a mother and I grew up hearing stories about Lencha and her colorful personality. Lencha married a white man, as she called him, Henry Peabody, who was twelve years older and worked on the Silver Spur. He died a few years ago and Lencha was glad to have Marie’s child to fuss over and I felt at home with her.” She lifted her head. “I’m sure she was worried about me. I wonder why she never reported me missing.”

  “A lot of this isn’t adding up.”

  She frowned. “Do you think I’m remembering it wrong?”

  “No. I think you just have a lot more to remember.”

  She wrapped her arms around her waist. “The unknown is so scary.”

  “But it’s what we’ve been waiting for—to identify the unknown. Then it won’t be so scary.”

  She looked at him. “I’m so glad you’re with me.”

  His eyes met hers. “You can count on that.”

  “You’re so nice, Caleb McCain, and I’m sure a Texas Ranger isn’t supposed to spend this much time on one case.”

  “We don’t stop until the bad guys are caught and in jail and soon the person who shot you will be in jail.”

  “Oh. This is Beckett,” she said, glancing back at the city limit sign. “Barely fourteen hundred people live here.”

  Caleb turned toward the business area. The town was small, with one main street where all the businesses were located. There were no fancy retail stores, just old-fashioned storefronts that had been there for years. It was like a scene from the 1950s with parking in front of stores and parking meters. A blacksmith shop, feed store and beer joint had weatherworn boards that had stood the test of time. The only new building was the post office.

  “Until I can do some checking it’s probably not wise to let people know you’re alive.”

  “I agree. We can go to Lencha’s. I trust her.”

  “Which direction?”

  “Turn left then take Tumbleweed. Lencha’s is about a mile on the right.”

  Caleb followed her directions to a small white frame house with a chain-link fence around it.

  “Go around back to the garage,” Belle instructed.

  Caleb stopped in front of the double garage that had a small truck parked inside. Belle gasped.

  “What is it?” Caleb asked.

  She pointed to the garage. “That’s my parking spot and my car’s not there.”

  Caleb looked at her pale face.

  “Evidently I drove away from Beckett.”

  “Seems like it.”

  “I need to see Lencha.” She opened the door and got out. Caleb followed.

  The yard was well kept, but the house needed painting and some outside boards were rotten. There were no close neighbors. Lencha lived on several acres. Farther down were some brick homes then a trailer park.

  It was noon, but no one was about. Belle opened the gate and they walked up the back steps. A pleasant scent greeted Caleb and he noticed all the flowering bushes and plants in the flower beds. A huge greenhouse was in back and he glimpsed a large garden filled with all sorts of vegetables and more plants.

  Belle knocked but no one answered. “Lencha sometimes gets lost in her own little world,” she said, and opened the door. They went into a utility room that held more plants in pots, then into the kitchen. A birdlike woman in jeans and a chambray shirt was at the sink washing dishes. Long gray hair hung down her back. A squirrel climbed down her back then up again to rest on her shoulder. Caleb blinked, wondering if he was seeing things.

  When the squirrel noticed them, she scurried down Lencha’s back to the floor, standing on her hind legs making funny noises.

  “What’s wrong with you, Chula?” Lencha asked, looking down at the squirrel. “You’ve had your lunch, so be quiet. I’m not giving you any more corn. You’re fat as a pig now.”

  Belle smiled at Chula, Lencha’s pet squirrel. As she stood in the room, soaking up the familiarity, that sense of belonging that she hadn’t had until now—Chula, the hardwood floor, the Formica table and chairs, the sunflower curtains and the scent of herbs and lavender—all were familiar. Lencha grew lavender in the yard and it drifted to her nostrils and saturated her body. A metamorphosis began to happen. She could feel it. It was like shedding a skin and letting new life in. For so long she’d felt like a mismatched piece of furniture that she’d been trying to fit into rooms where she didn’t belong. But this was a part of her and a part of her family.

  “Lencha,” she said quietly, almost afraid to speak.

  “Lawdy, lawdy, will it never stop?” Lencha dried a dish. “People call me a witch and I’m beginning to believe them. How else could I conjure up her spirit and hear her voice so clearly?”

  Lencha didn’t turn around or acknowledge her presence. She put the dish in the cabinet as if Belle wasn’t even standing there.

  “Lencha.” She tried again.

  Chula scratched at Lencha’s legs.

  Glancing down at Chula, Lencha caught sight of Belle, taking in Caleb behind her. “Lawdy, now she’s got a man with her.” Lencha shook her head as to rid herself of the image. “How long will I continue to see her? I’m too old for my mind to be this active.”

  Belle finally understood. Lencha thought she was seeing things. She walked closer. “Lencha, it’s me. I’m real and I’m alive.”

  Lencha shook her head. “Go away, Josie, and stop torturing an old woman.”

  Belle touched her and Lencha jumped back, her eyes big, then in a trembling voice, she asked, “Josie? Josie Marie?”

  “Yes, Lencha. It’s me.”

  “Heaven above. Santa Maria madre de Dios.” Lencha grabbed her and held her tight. “Josie Marie, you’re back. My precious child, you’re back.” She drew away and stroked Belle’s face. “You’re back.”

  “Yes.” She gripped the old lady as tight as she could. Lavender was all around her and a peacefulness came over her. The past connected to the present just that easily. She wiped away an errant tear and stared at Lencha. “Josie Marie is home.”

  In that moment she became Josie Marie again. New strength surged through her and the shackles of fear slipped away. Her memory hadn’t completely returned, but it would and she could sort out the rest of her life on her own.

  Looking at Caleb, she saw a glimmer of sadness in his eyes. Weak, defenseless Belle Doe was no more. She disappeared the instant Lencha called her Josie, and Caleb knew that. She saw it in his gaze.

  A moment of dejection swept over her. She brushed it away with a flicker of remorse. She was Josie Marie Beckett, police officer, looking for the person who’d tried to kill her. She wanted justice for what she’d been put through and she’d find all the answers she needed one way or another. Revenge was such a harsh word, but she wanted revenge or something to explain away the nightmare.

  Her eyes settled on Caleb. Surviving her parents’ deaths, being shot and living without a memory seemed minimal compared to what she had to do now. How would she say goodbye to a man like Caleb?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WORDS FELT LIKE A WAD of cotton in Belle’s throat and she couldn’t force them out. Her eyes clung to Caleb’s and she memorized every line of his honed, lean face, the sensual curve of his mouth, the dark hair, neatly trimmed, and those incredible warm eyes.

  Before she could speak, Lencha stroked her face, her hair. “Child, where have you been? Why did you leave like that?”

  Belle stared into Lencha’s gray eyes and saw the worry and concern. She would talk to Caleb later. Now she had to tell Lencha what had happened to her.

  “Lencha, this
is Caleb McCain, a Texas Ranger.”

  Lencha turned to Caleb, Chula on her shoulder. She studied him openly. “Texas Ranger, hmm? Had a cousin who was a ranger back in the old days when a ranger was all the law we had out here. Nice to meet you.” She shook his hand.

  “Nice to meet you, too, ma’am.” He glanced at Chula. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen a pet squirrel before.”

  Lencha scratched Chula. “Found her as a baby in the backyard. Must have fallen out of a nest. I fed her with an eyedropper and she’s been a pet ever since. She’s like a cat, but I can’t leave her alone in the house or she’ll tear up everything.” Her eyes narrowed. “So what are you doing with my Josie?”

  Josie took Lencha’s arm and led her to the kitchen table. “It’s a long story….”

  Josie told her everything about her ordeal—waking up on Austin’s skid row, the bullet in her head, the cult, the memory loss, the struggle back to reality and the kind people who helped her.

  “Santa Maria madre de Dios!” Lencha made the sign of the cross. “Child, are you okay?”

  “Partly. I still don’t remember how I ended up in Austin or what made me leave Beckett.”

  Lencha jumped up. “Ojo.”

  “No, Lencha…” But Lencha was already out the door.

  “Ojo?” Caleb asked with a lifted brow.

  She sighed. “It’s the eye. The evil eye. It’s Mexican—if a person looks at your child and thinks things, good or bad, about them, it can cause high fever, crying or fussiness or something like that. I’m not up on this stuff, but when I was small I had a real high fever and the doctors couldn’t keep it down. Mama was worried and called Lencha and she came to Corpus. My mom and dad scoffed at a lot of Lencha’s rituals, but were willing to try anything. After Lencha did her thing, my fever was under control within thirty minutes.”

  Lencha hurried back in, her gray hair everywhere, making her look like a witch. In her hands she carried a brown egg, a sprig of rosemary and a bottle of brackish greenish liquid. She filled a glass with water and brought everything to the table. Saying a prayer in Spanish, she rubbed the liquid all over Josie, even her clothes.

  “Lencha!” Josie protested, twitching her nose at the strong scent.