Sarah Armstrong: Blood Lines Part 23

"Oh, Mom," Maggie said. "Its just fun, thats all."

"Besides, maybe hed like it," Ca.s.sidy added, with a laugh. "A little bling never hurt anyone, even a tough-guy horse." I chuckled along with her, but had to stop because it made my arm ache.

Surviving what threatened to be certain death made the air on the ranch smell even fresher. Or maybe it was the jasmine blooming on the porch railing, or the scent of Moms pot roast simmering in the kitchen. In truth, I didnt care what made the sky a perfect blue or the smile on Maggies face s.h.i.+ne the way it did. A fluke had saved Ca.s.sidy and me. A security guard who saw the limo with the bullet holes in the window enter the garage had the good sense to call H.P.D.

I felt blessed just to be alive.

"Now, thats what I call one beautiful colt," Mom said, as she and Bobby walked out to join us, the screen door banging behind them. "You girls should rent yourselves out to the circus. You could earn a living dressing up the horses for performances."

"Heck, Id buy a ticket," Bobby said, with a hoot. "Id buy two, Maggie, one for your gram and one for me."

Mom gave him a playful nudge with her elbow.

Ca.s.sidy laughed, but then turned serious. "Ive been thinking, its time I get back to my real job," she said. "I called Rick and hes going to book a jet. I need to get to L.A. and figure out what to do next."

For just a moment, Maggie looked crestfallen, but I was proud of Ca.s.sidy. It was time. None of us could wall ourselves up. We all still had lives waiting to be lived.

"Youre right," I said. "Well miss you, and youre always welcome to visit, but we understand if its time for you to go home."

"Sarah, I know you may not agree with this, I know it may not help, but Im going to ask the prison to let me bring in someone to help Justin, like a therapist," Ca.s.sidy said. I started to protest, worried that it was better to cut all ties with Peterson, but she quickly went on. "Despite everything, hes my brother. And someday hes going to get out of jail. Maybe Im doing it for me. I want him to get better, but I figure Im safer if hes not so angry when he gets out."

While I figured it was probably a waste of time and money, the kid had a point. At least she could try. "That makes sense," I said. "Ill see if I can get the name of a therapist for you, someone who works with prisoners."

At that, I moved a bit in the rocker, and tried to get comfortable. If I sat too long in any one position, my arm throbbed. But that too would pa.s.s. Like Warrior, I felt better every day.

We sat there for a while, Mom and I rocking, Bobby sitting on the steps, while the meat simmered and the girls talked softly, lavis.h.i.+ng affection on the foal. I wasnt listening, maybe just daydreaming, until Maggie walked up and stood next to me, with a strange, apprehensive look. "Mom," she said. "Ca.s.sidy and I think theres something I really need to explain to you."

"Whats that?" I asked.

"Well, its about Mr. Garrity," she started.

"Maggie," I chastised. I hated to see her ruin what was turning into a beautiful afternoon talking about a lost cause. "Weve been through this. David and I are just friends, and I dont want you to worry about anything. Theres no reason to be concerned."

The morning I woke up in the hospital, Mom, Maggie, Bobby, Ca.s.sidy, and David were all there. I remember thinking that anyone pa.s.sing by would have thought he was part of the family. He didnt linger long. Once I was on the mend, he stopped visiting. I hadnt heard from him except for a get well card since Id left the hospital.

Maggie looked uncertain, and Ca.s.sidy nudged her. I wondered what this could all be about when my daughter took a deep breath. "Mom," she said, again. "This isnt one of those times you should worry about me. This is one of those times when youre supposed to listen to me."

"Oh," I said. "I see."

"So, you need to listen, and then, if youre mad, you can yell at me and ground me," Maggie said. "Okay?"

"Okay," I agreed. "You have my full attention."

Ringing Davids doorbell, I realized there was probably a lot I hadnt thought through. He could be with someone else, at that very moment, and Id be interrupting. What would I do then? Mumble something about stopping in to talk about work, I guess, but since we were no longer working a case together, that would be pretty odd, or "lame" as Maggie would say. When he didnt answer immediately, I momentarily thought about turning and running back to the Tahoe. Then I thought about how Id stopped and bought a new tube of lipstick on the way. I couldnt find my usual, and this one was called Tawny Taupe. I ran my tongue over my lips. It seemed a shame to waste it.

I rang the bell again, and waited.

"Sarah, I didnt expect to see you here," he said, when he opened the door. He had on a pair of jogging shorts and a T-s.h.i.+rt, looking like he was getting ready for a run. His hair was falling over his forehead, and I reached up with my good arm and pushed it behind his ears. He frowned.

"Id been meaning to come out to the ranch and check on you, but thought maybe I shouldnt," he said.

"Are you going to invite me in?" I asked. "After all, Id like to sit down. This arm is still pretty sore, and Im a little weaker than usual."

A curious look, his eyes narrowed on me, he stepped back, and I walked in. I momentarily thought that life shouldnt be so complicated. People should be able to talk about the important stuff without worrying about getting hurt. Of course, that was just another of those perfect-world wishes, the kind that should be and never are. I sat down on his old corduroy couch and waited for him to join me, but he didnt.

"Maggie and I had a talk this afternoon," I said. He didnt react, and I paused. Then I said, "She mentioned a conversation the two of you had last year, about the time you stopped calling."

Looking puzzled, he sat on the couchs thick, round arm. Just being in Davids place brought back memories, but I was too nervous about the troubled look on his face to relax enough to enjoy them.

"Im not sure what she told you, Sarah," he said, cautiously. "But Maggies been through a lot the last couple of years. I understand completely that shes not ready-"

"Well, thats the thing," I interrupted. "David, Im not sure how you feel about me now, after all this time. But weve been through a lot. And sometimes, that brings people together. Sometimes they drift apart afterward, while other times, it forms a bond."

He was smiling. Here I was, pouring my heart out, and David was smiling at me, as if pleased by my predicament.

"I guess Im rather amusing?"

"Not really," he said, with a soft laugh. "Its just not like you to try to explain yourself. Youre more of a doer, Sarah, not much for small talk."

Why are men so aggravating, especially when a womans trying to make herself understood? I thought.

"Okay," I said. "I admit Im not the best at talking about feelings, its not my thing, but in this instance, it seems necessary."

David slid down the arm of the couch, and scooted over until he sat beside me. He put one arm around my waist and wrapped the other over my shoulder. When he pulled me toward him, I winced.

"Oh, sorry," he said, loosening his grip. "The arm?"

"Still a little sore," I admitted.

That little bobble seemed to leave us hanging, so I figured, as much as I disliked it, that Id better try to talk again. "Now, David, the reason Im here is that Maggie told me what she said to you last year, about you and me."

"I kind of already had that figured out," he said. "And Im glad that she did."

He was still holding me, although a bit more loosely, and he buried his face in my hair. It still had some faint purple streaks in it from Germaines color job. Shed lied. It hadnt all washed out. But David didnt seem to mind. He took a deep breath. "Im glad youre still using the same shampoo. I remember that scent. What is it?"

"You dont want to know," I said.

"I do," he prodded, snuggling against my neck. "What does it smell like?"

"No. You really dont want to know," I said, and he laughed. Exasperated, I said, "Now can we forget about my hair? Ive prepared this entire speech."

"Its horse shampoo, isnt it?" he said.

I frowned, and then shrugged. It was hopeless. "Yeah," I admitted. "Ive been using it since I was a kid. Is there a problem with that?"

"No," he said, still grinning. "In fact, I should have known."

"Now, what do you mean by that?" I asked, getting even more aggravated. "Sometimes I think you a.s.sume you know what Im going to say before I say it."

"Sometimes I do. For instance, what youre here to tell me is that Maggie told you she asked me not to see you anymore, that she wasnt ready for you to get serious with anyone," he said. "Thats it, isnt it?"

"Well, yes," I said, frowning.

"And then you were going to tell me that shes changed her mind. Shes all right with it now?"

"How did you know that?"

"You wouldnt be here if she still objected," he said. I was thinking it could be maddening being involved with a profiler. Mom always said I drove her crazy, figuring out what she thought before she said it. Now David was doing it to me. Still, it was hard to get upset with him when he was kissing my neck, and when I felt his arms pulling me gently closer.

"That means, for the first time in a year, you are mine," he whispered, with what I thought was just a hint of danger.

I was glad Id worn a s.h.i.+rt that b.u.t.toned down the front, so he could peel it off my arm gently before he laid me in his bed. He ran his hands over me, from my face, down my neck, cupping my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, trailing down to my waist. He kissed my left shoulder, the scars across my back and arm, and when he hit the tenderest spot, I winced again.

"I dont want to hurt you," he said, pulling me close. "But oh, Ive missed you, Sarah."

I had only one good arm, and I pulled him closer with it. "Why didnt you tell me what Maggie said?" I asked. "Why did you let me wonder?"

"I couldnt do that to Maggie," he said. "I needed you, but she needed you, too."

The last time I kissed David was in the barn, when we were both covered with hay. So much had happened, but nothing that changed the way I felt about him. I knew in my heart that I wanted him, maybe more than he wanted me.

We made love carefully, tenderly, calmly compared to that night a year earlier when wed first shared his bed. My arm might still be mending, but that night, in Davids bed, I felt as if for the first time since Bill died that my heart had finally healed. Afterward, we lay for hours, talking and laughing, touching each other, remembering.

When morning came, we filled his old claw-foot bathtub with hot water and bubbles. David blocked out the sunlight with beach towels taped over the blinds, while I lit candles. He brought in a pillow for me to rest my sore arm on, perched on the edge of the tub, and we made love in the hot soapy water. When we were through, he sat behind me, and wrapped his arms around me, and I slept with my head on his shoulder. We woke in the water turned cold. I dried David off with a towel, then wrapped it around him and guided him back to the bed. As we made love yet again, I felt his hot, wet breath on my neck, and thought that maybe, sometimes, if were lucky, life gives us a second chance at happiness.

"Sarah, I have one question," he whispered. I held his face and kissed him on the lips, long and hard.

"Ask away," I said finally. "Anything."

He shook his head and laughed softly, then held me close and whispered, "Where do we go from here?"

Acknowledgments.

Many, many thanks to:.

Retired Texas Ranger Marrie Aldridge.

Senior Crime Scene a.n.a.lyst David Rossi.

My former teacher and friend Ken Hammond, for his insightful suggestions: Mary Kay Zanoni, for helping Ca.s.sidy find her voice.

Christopher Boutros, D.V.M.

Malcolm Hackney, at Bright Star Productions.

All the wonderful folks at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo.

Lorrie Patel, for her tips on astronomy.

Edward Porter, for talking ideas.

T. C. and Tamara Skeete, for teaching me to two-step.

Paul Chaplo of Dallas, for his expertise with helicopters.

Liz and Ray Fitzgerald and Barbara Tavernini, for their research a.s.sistance.

Brian Weiss, M.D., for inspiring Dr. Dorins theories on reincarnation.

Vladimir Parungao, M. D., for forensic advice.

Terry Bachman, for reading the ma.n.u.script.

David Thompson at Houstons Murder by the Book, and his entire staff, for being so kind to a local writer.

My agents, Jane Dystel and Miriam G.o.derich, at Dystel & G.o.derich, for their advice, support, and efforts on my behalf.

My St. Martins editor, Daniela Rapp; publicists Jessica Ro-tondi and Hector DeSean; and copy editor NaN V. Stoelzle.

Special thanks to Jan, Mike, Jim, Kate, John, Linda, my dad, Nick, and all the New Mexico brainstormers, especially Nicholas, Sarah, and Bethany.

Finally, thank you to all my dear friends and family, especially Brian, Kim, Emmie, Brian, Becky, Nick, Zack, and Paul. Thank you for brightening my life each and every day.

ALSO BY KATHRYN CASEY.

Singularity.

A Descent into h.e.l.l.

Die, My Love.

Evil Beside Her.

She Wanted It All.

A Warrant to Kill.