yipped again. An animal, small and furry, brushed against her leg then beat a fast trail into the bushes.
She jumped backward and dropped the wire cutter. Her heart pounded and she gripped onto the fence to prevent falling. A city girl, and out of her element, when things stirred again in the bushes, she ran.
Chapter Three
Dena rolled over in bed. Slits of morning light shone around the edges of the blinds. She’d run from danger—real or imagined—twice in twenty-four hours. Time to get serious . She yawned and reached for her cell phone.
“Mr. Cabrera?” she asked, when she heard the brusque hello. “This is Dena Roman. I need a favor from you.”
He blew out a long audible breath. “How can I help?”
She envisioned his cool hazel eyes. Wondered what he’d look like if he smiled. She cleared her throat with a couple of small coughs. “My offer of representation…well, I have to be honest…it was more about me than you—”
“How so?”
“Well, I need closure.”
A long pause ensued. “Go on,” he finally said.
“I hope you understand…I have to walk on the land where they discovered Carli’s body and—”
“To achieve what?” he asked softly.
“I’m not sure…I…I knew her.” She crossed the fingers of her left hand and put it behind her back. It wasn’t a lie. “We were very close.”
He let out a long breath. “I see.”
“Look, I just have this need to walk on the land. Maybe it’s an obsession or something.” She waited, held her breath, afraid to breathe in case he turned her down. Please, please let him understand obsession, and not think I’m crazy.
“It’s a restricted area—”
“I know, but if we went up to your border fence, and if we didn’t touch anything—”
“Of course, I understand.”
“You do? Oh, well…you see, it has to do with my mother…and ah, Carli’s mother and depression, and…well, I don’t know, death and family and…just a lot of stuff and—”
“We could get fairly close to the area,” he said. “Do you ride?”
“What?” She felt a hot flare of embarrassment. With Zeke’s unexpected compassion, she’d babbled like a ten-year-old.
“Can you ride a horse?”
“Oh…yes.” She crossed her fingers tighter. She hadn’t ridden for a long time, but how hard could it be? “Yes, of course.”
“Okay. Can you be here by nine?”
A quick glance at the radio alarm clock showed twelve minutes past eight. “Yes—” The phone went dead. She grabbed Carli’s photo. “I found a way in.”
She kissed her sister’s face, fell back on the bed, and grinned.
That was nice of Zeke. Really, really nice.
Remembering the short time frame, she jumped up, packed her clothes and double-checked the room. Today she’d go back to L.A. and straight to the office. She’d talk to Steve in person. He always worked on Saturday afternoon. She’d tell him the truth about what she’d done. Then she’d quit and come back here to investigate in depth.
Minutes later, headed for Zeke’s place, Dena concentrated on her mental to-do list. Misjudging the sharp turn to Zeke’s private road, she swerved and ended up on the shoulder. The tires spun in the soft sand, and the car lurched onto the blacktop and jolted her forward, slamming her into the steering wheel. She pulled in a deep breath and rubbed at her chest. Thank goodness the airbags didn’t inflate.
There was a sharp sound and the Mustang shuddered. A second later, something whizzed by the front windshield. She lowered her body as far as she could, her heart pounding, and floored the accelerator. She’d gone to the firing range with her ex-husband enough times to know that sound.
Someone shot at her.
****
Hearing a screech of tires, Zeke turned and looked out the office window. Dena Roman’s car swerved into his driveway and missed the center divider by about an inch. “What the—?”
He’d taken a risk in inviting her here; he knew trouble. And being a lawyer, damn it,
She jumped backward and dropped the wire cutter. Her heart pounded and she gripped onto the fence to prevent falling. A city girl, and out of her element, when things stirred again in the bushes, she ran.
Chapter Three
Dena rolled over in bed. Slits of morning light shone around the edges of the blinds. She’d run from danger—real or imagined—twice in twenty-four hours. Time to get serious . She yawned and reached for her cell phone.
“Mr. Cabrera?” she asked, when she heard the brusque hello. “This is Dena Roman. I need a favor from you.”
He blew out a long audible breath. “How can I help?”
She envisioned his cool hazel eyes. Wondered what he’d look like if he smiled. She cleared her throat with a couple of small coughs. “My offer of representation…well, I have to be honest…it was more about me than you—”
“How so?”
“Well, I need closure.”
A long pause ensued. “Go on,” he finally said.
“I hope you understand…I have to walk on the land where they discovered Carli’s body and—”
“To achieve what?” he asked softly.
“I’m not sure…I…I knew her.” She crossed the fingers of her left hand and put it behind her back. It wasn’t a lie. “We were very close.”
He let out a long breath. “I see.”
“Look, I just have this need to walk on the land. Maybe it’s an obsession or something.” She waited, held her breath, afraid to breathe in case he turned her down. Please, please let him understand obsession, and not think I’m crazy.
“It’s a restricted area—”
“I know, but if we went up to your border fence, and if we didn’t touch anything—”
“Of course, I understand.”
“You do? Oh, well…you see, it has to do with my mother…and ah, Carli’s mother and depression, and…well, I don’t know, death and family and…just a lot of stuff and—”
“We could get fairly close to the area,” he said. “Do you ride?”
“What?” She felt a hot flare of embarrassment. With Zeke’s unexpected compassion, she’d babbled like a ten-year-old.
“Can you ride a horse?”
“Oh…yes.” She crossed her fingers tighter. She hadn’t ridden for a long time, but how hard could it be? “Yes, of course.”
“Okay. Can you be here by nine?”
A quick glance at the radio alarm clock showed twelve minutes past eight. “Yes—” The phone went dead. She grabbed Carli’s photo. “I found a way in.”
She kissed her sister’s face, fell back on the bed, and grinned.
That was nice of Zeke. Really, really nice.
Remembering the short time frame, she jumped up, packed her clothes and double-checked the room. Today she’d go back to L.A. and straight to the office. She’d talk to Steve in person. He always worked on Saturday afternoon. She’d tell him the truth about what she’d done. Then she’d quit and come back here to investigate in depth.
Minutes later, headed for Zeke’s place, Dena concentrated on her mental to-do list. Misjudging the sharp turn to Zeke’s private road, she swerved and ended up on the shoulder. The tires spun in the soft sand, and the car lurched onto the blacktop and jolted her forward, slamming her into the steering wheel. She pulled in a deep breath and rubbed at her chest. Thank goodness the airbags didn’t inflate.
There was a sharp sound and the Mustang shuddered. A second later, something whizzed by the front windshield. She lowered her body as far as she could, her heart pounding, and floored the accelerator. She’d gone to the firing range with her ex-husband enough times to know that sound.
Someone shot at her.
****
Hearing a screech of tires, Zeke turned and looked out the office window. Dena Roman’s car swerved into his driveway and missed the center divider by about an inch. “What the—?”
He’d taken a risk in inviting her here; he knew trouble. And being a lawyer, damn it,
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