Deadly Texas Rose. Lenora Worth
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started working at the café, mainly because she was pretty and pleasant and, well, he was single and lonely. But now that awareness had changed into concern and suspicion. Eric couldn’t answer why, except that today’s event had certainly put Julia in the spotlight. And like that nosy Mickey Jameson, Eric had some questions of his own. He didn’t want a story for the front page, though. He wanted the truth, especially since it occurred to him that even the usually talkative Cat hadn’t given up much information about her pretty cousin.
“I think that’s wise,” Harlan said, satisfied they’d cleared up that little matter of concern. “Might need to know what all we’re dealing with here.”
Eric lay back against his pillows, watching as his father threw up his hand and headed out the door.
“You can count on that,” he said to himself.
THREE
“C’mon, honey. Time for bed.”
Julia tugged on Moria’s hand, the sweet soapy smell surrounding her daughter causing her heart to swell with love. Glancing out the window where the streetlight illuminated the whole backyard and Cat’s big rambling white Victorian house just beyond, she wondered for the hundredth time today if they were truly safe here.
She should feel safe, since Deputy Sheriff Adam Dupont had come by not an hour ago to check on them, and to give her a report on Eric. They would only allow his father in to see him after his surgery. Adam had assured her Eric would be home in a day or so.
He’d also assured her that Eric didn’t want her to feel bad about things. It wasn’t her fault, Adam kept saying. Eric wouldn’t want her to worry at all. He’d be up and about in no time. But not back on the job just yet. His injury and an internal investigation of the shooting would see to that.
“Eric will get in some fishing, at least, while he’s on leave,” Adam had quipped. “He can toss a line and catch fish with just one hand, easy.”
“Easy,” Julia said now as she tried to put her uneasiness out of her mind. She focused instead on getting her daughter to bed.
Moria, dressed in a frilly pink nightgown and clutching her favorite doll, stood just inside her bedroom door, her big dark eyes surveying the dainty, feminine room. “I’m not sleepy, Mommy.”
Julia prayed this wouldn’t turn into another stand-off. True, it had become increasingly easier to get Moria to bed since they’d moved here, but every now and then Moria still had a bad night. The rental house that had been originally built for Cat’s late grandmother was purposely small, with just a den/kitchen combination across the front, a short hallway with a bath and laundry room to one side and two bedrooms on the other side. There was a clear view of both the well-lit front and back yards. No hidden nooks and crannies, no big deep closets or long winding stairways like those in the house back in San Antonio. She’d sold that gaudy dwelling for way under the appraisal value just to have moving money and a small nest egg to go with Alfonso’s life insurance, most of which she’d tucked away for her daughter’s future.
Small and safe, Julia reminded herself, glancing around at the clutter-free house. Simple and uncomplicated. Secure. No hiding places. Back at the big house, Moria had loved to play hide-and-seek with her daddy. But here, Julia discouraged that particular game.
Now Julia prayed they weren’t about to enter another kind of hide-and-seek. But the man who’d held her at gunpoint was still out there somewhere, she reminded herself. How could he have just disappeared in broad daylight? And where was he now?
“Moria, it’s past your bedtime,” she said, looking back over her shoulder to make sure the solid front door was dead-bolted. “You’ve had a big day, so I know you’re tired.”
“But tomorrow’s Saturday,” Moria pointed out, jumping up onto the ruffled yellow-rose-patterned spread covering her twin four-poster bed. Pushing stuffed animals, fashion dolls, and fluffy pillows aside, she added, “Rosa and I aren’t tired, honestly, Mommy.” She squeezed her favorite doll.
Julia shook her head then laughed. “Mr. Ulmer told me how you and he raced around the backyard today. He said you won every race.”
“But I was on my bike,” Moria said, her hands wrapped against her midsection. “Mr. Ulmer lets me ride the bike he bought for his grandchildren while he rides his scooter. Rosa sat in the basket.”
“That’s awfully nice of him,” Julia said, silently thanking God for the Ulmers. The couple lived right next door and had immediately taken a shine to Moria. Once they’d heard Julia needed after-school care for those days she worked late at the café, they’d volunteered, no questions asked, even though Mr. Ulmer had horribly arthritic knees and had to get around with a motorized scooter most days. And they didn’t even want any pay. But Julia made sure she did other things for them to compensate, such as bringing home leftovers from the café, or picking up extra groceries whenever she was going to the store. Today, especially, they had managed to distract Moria while the awful details of the shooting had blared across the local news stations.
Including her face and her name, Julia thought, unease causing her next words to come out harshly. “Moria, no more excuses. It’s bedtime. You might not be tired, but I sure am.”
Remembering her brief discussion at the hospital today with the overbearing Gazette reporter, Julia let out a sigh. She only hoped the paper wouldn’t make too much of this. She wanted to stay low-key. But Mickey Jameson kept pushing, telling her this was big news and readers would want to hear her side of the story. After all, she’d been in the clutches of an armed robber and she’d survived, due to the two deputy sheriffs who’d risked their own lives to save her.
How could she refuse such a request without looking ungrateful, Julia thought. So she’d given him a brief description of how the robbery had taken place, but she’d been very careful not to reveal too much personal information. Besides, her hair was longer now, and she didn’t wear the fancy clothes or the expensive cosmetics she’d favored while living in San Antonio. Most days, she hardly recognized herself in the mirror. So maybe no one else would, either. And after Alfonso had died, she’d had her name legally changed back to her maiden name, just as an added precaution. Maybe she’d covered all her bases. She prayed she had, for Moria’s sake at least.
“Want to lie on my bed and rest?” Moria asked, her brown eyes going wide as she brought Julia out of her troubled thoughts. “Rosa and I can make room.”
Julia grinned, then touched a hand to her daughter’s dark curls, seeing the hopeful look in her eyes. “How about I read you a bedtime story?” Julia offered, hoping to distract both of them for a few minutes. “That way I can rest my feet and you can get sleepy.”
Moria bobbed her head. “Can I pick?”
“Of course,” Julia said, watching as her daughter ran to the small bookcase beneath the window. “But not too long, okay?”
Moria giggled, then found a suitable book. “Rosa likes this one.”
Julia nodded, then snuggled up with her daughter, the ever-present doll Moria had named Rosa cuddled between them, her flower-strewn lacy yellow dress and her rose-encased little drawstring purse perfectly displayed.
Alfonso had given Moria the doll for her birthday last year because her dress had matched Moria’s yellow rose-decorated bedroom back in San Antonio and because the doll had reminded him of Moria. That had been a few days before his death. Which was probably why Moria clung to the doll from the minute she arrived home from school each day until she fell asleep at night.
Even after they’d moved here, Moria had begged for the same colors in this bedroom. Julia had readily agreed, hoping to make her daughter feel at home. The room looked like a rose garden, complete with a dainty silk oversize yellow rose sitting in a clay pot on the dresser. The rose looked so real, Julia reached out and touched it. Alfonso had loved yellow roses.
Looking down at the doll’s beautiful porcelain face and jet-black hair with its miniature combs and