2000 Kisses Read online

  “Makes no difference,” McCall repeated. “If a thing needs to be done, someone will do it. That’s the way it is here.” The phone rang. As he listened, McCall’s face tightened with strain. He hung up, then went to a metal locker and drew out a long canvas duffel bag.

  “Was that Andrew?”

  “No,” he said tightly. “It was for me.” He slung the heavy bag over his shoulder.

  Tess felt an odd pressure at her chest. “I thought you said the world was a low and unworthy place, Sheriff.”

  “Some parts of it are. Almost isn’t one.”

  Then he quietly closed the door behind him.

  Tess finally did fall asleep, wrapped in her suede coat. Her dreams were filled with color and dust and voices that made no sense. She wasn’t feeling notably refreshed when she woke an hour later.

  The room was empty. Almost’s irritating sheriff was nowhere in sight.

  Tess sighed. She would have to apologize for some of the things she’d said to him, but the town was small, its choices painfully limited. It was also true that if Tess didn’t get her hands on a major newspaper soon, she would become completely unhinged.

  A man with graying hair peered from the neighboring room as Tess stood up. “I’m Deputy Grady. Need any help?”

  Tess made a vain attempt to smooth down her hair. Her shirt was full of wrinkles, and she probably looked like the bride of Frankenstein. “I’m fine, I think. At least I’m better than I was a few hours ago.” Delicious smells wafted from the table beside the door. Her stomach gave an audible growl as she made her way closer. “Food,” she whispered reverently.

  “Mae figured you missed lunch so she brought a bite over from the café. Fresh biscuits and homemade gravy. After that, you’ve got your choice of fried chicken or cowboy chili.” Grady rubbed his jaw. “You might want to go careful with the chili. Mae makes it mighty hot.”

  Tess barely heard him over the growl of her stomach. “It sounds wonderful.” She found a plastic bowl and took a biscuit that was light as air. “Is the sheriff here?”

  “He had to go up north. Official business.”

  “I hope it wasn’t anything too bad.”

  Grady’s eyes hardened. “Reckon it was. Hostage situation in a bank. Five people involved.”

  “Is the sheriff a negotiator?”

  Grady seemed to find bleak humor in the question. “He doesn’t negotiate. He’s a trained marksman. If it looks like negotiation isn’t going to work, that’s when they call in T.J.”

  As Tess stared down at the biscuit, her appetite vanished. The cold reality of a law officer’s job hit her, tying her stomach in knots. How did you prepare for trauma and death on a second’s notice? And how did you forget the job later?

  Grady’s keen eyes probed her face. “Don’t go fretting over T.J. The man’s used to dealing with whatever comes up. Just you dig into that food. Mae will have my hide if you don’t eat a healthy amount.” He rubbed his jaw slowly. “So will T.J., come to think of it.”

  “Has he worked here long?”

  “Five, six years, maybe. When I came along, he was already a legend. There’s not an inch of this county he doesn’t know firsthand or a person in town he can’t call by his first name. He’s done a good job for Almost, and everyone here knows it. He could get twice as much money up in Phoenix or Albuquerque, but he won’t leave. He’s a good man, Ma’am.”

  Tess felt the challenge in Grady’s voice. “I’m not disagreeing with you.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you?”

  Maybe she did resent T. J. McCall. Maybe she did suspect he was lacking in finesse. It wasn’t her place to criticize the job he did here. But staying was something else.

  “I’m not staying here.” Tess paced angrily. “Not a day longer than I have to.”

  “You in some sort of danger?” Grady asked. “Must be, for the sheriff to act the way he did.”

  Tess shrugged, wary of saying too much to anyone, even this deputy. “Not exactly danger. I just don’t want to be seen for a few days.”

  Grady studied her thoughtfully. “Man trouble?”

  Tess started to deny it, then stopped. Why not? “Something like that. I was involved with someone. Then he started doing strange things like going out for a newspaper at three in the morning and meeting men in sunglasses on lonely street corners. One day he cleaned out the assets of his bank account and vanished for a vacation to the Caymans.” Tess tapped her jaw, getting into the flow of her lie. “The police caught him at the airport as he was boarding the flight. He had several million dollars in crisp new U.S. currency wedged inside a hidden money belt.”

  “You don’t say.” Grady frowned. “That surely would make a fine news story.”

  Tess bent closer. “You can’t mention any of this. There’s a government investigation in progress, and indictments will be handed out. Political careers could be made and broken on this case.”

  Grady gave a low whistle. “That must be why the sheriff didn’t mention any details. It’s not like T.J. to be so secretive.” His eyes narrowed. “You don’t suppose that man will be following you here.”

  Tess gave a shrug. “Not unless he’s invisible. I was pretty careful on the drive here.”

  Grady padded across the room for a drink of water from the battered cooler. “So you and this Don Corleone fellow were close, were you?” Grady appeared to store the information away for future use. “Well, you’re in good hands now. No one alive can protect you better than Sheriff Jackson McCall. Have some water.”

  Tess sipped from the paper cup, watching the mountains turn pink above the horizon in the late afternoon light. “When did the sheriff say he would be back?”

  “No telling how long the situation will last. Have some more water. T.J. will skin me alive if you don’t have some color when he gets back.”

  “I should check into my hotel.” Tess dug in her pocket and consulted a sheet of paper. “The place I’m looking for is named Desert Vista.”

  “You can’t stay there,” Grady said flatly.

  “Why not?”

  “Because the Desert Vista burned down a month ago.” Grady pointed through the window to a blackened pile of charred wood at the far end of Main Street.

  Tess drummed her fingernails on T.J.’s metal desk. She couldn’t bear to languish here, no matter what the irritating sheriff had ordered. She needed work, responsibility, newspapers. She also wanted to find out more about this odd town.

  “Have you ever had a double mochaccino latte?”

  “No, Ma’am, can’t say that I have.” Grady scratched his head. “I’ve seen them on TV though. I’ve heard all about that fancy coffee store called Starbreaks.”

  “Nothing better than Starbreaks,” Tess said gravely. “Let’s go for a walk, Grady. After that, we’ll take my new cappuccino machine out for a test run.”

  6

  Their first stop was Mae’s café. The decor was pure 1950s, with spotless linoleum counters and rustic carved pine chairs. Deer and moose heads grimaced from polished wood walls that were tended with loving care by the sixty-something owner wearing a pristine white apron and solid brown hunting boots.

  Mae patted her silver-white hair and studied Tess from head to foot before nodding in approval. “Sure do like that hair of yours. If I was even ten years younger, I’d try it myself. You showing our visitor around town, Grady?”

  “Sure am, Mae. She wants to see everything.”

  “That should take about ten minutes.” Mae squinted down the street. “Any idea where the sheriff went to in such a hurry?”

  Grady rubbed his jaw. “Hostage situation up in Brinkley.”

  Mae sighed. “Well, you tell McCall to drop by the café when he gets back, no matter what time it is. I’ll still be in the kitchen, laying in some pies. We just got in a shipment of peaches.”

  “I think I ran over a few this morning,” Tess said guiltily.

  “Not a problem,” the older woman said, taking Tess�
��s arm. “Now, why don’t you two have a seat here by the window and I’ll see you get something to eat.” She beckoned to a waitress with a sunburn and a big smile. “Sallyanne, bring the usual for Grady and a number two for our guest.”

  “Coming right up, Ma’am.”

  Mae slid into a chair beside Tess and poured three tall glasses of iced tea. “Wish we could offer the sheriff more than we do.” She wiped her hands on her apron and dumped a hefty amount of sugar into her tea. “McCall hasn’t had a raise in four years. The budget won’t allow it. Darned shame, too.” Mae patted Tess’s arm. “So, Ms. O’Mara, what line of business are you in?”

  “I’m in public relations.”

  Mae frowned. “I always wondered what that meant.”

  “I bring products to the public’s attention using print medium, television, and special events.” Tess stared in awe as the athletic waitress placed two plates filled with coleslaw and steaming fresh bread on the table.

  “Rest of the food will take a while. We always cook to order here. None of that heating up. Grady, have yourself some more tea. You, too, Ms. O’Mara.”

  “Call me Tess, please.”

  “I’ll be glad to. Only you’re not one of those calorie counters, are you?”

  “I doubt that anyone could count calories around your food. It’s far too much temptation.”

  “I like this girl, Grady.” Mae motioned to a waitress, who brought a huge portion of pork tenderloin with baked potatoes and a corn and red onion relish for Tess and a large bowl of chili for Grady.

  “So you know about handling new products, do you?”

  “It’s one of the main things I do.” Tess sighed as she bit into the relish. “Did you have something in particular you’re working on?”

  Mae moved her iced tea glass around on the table. “The fact is, I’ve been thinking about offering a line of chile products from my ranch.” She grinned wickedly. “The hotter the better. That relish is my own recipe, in fact. You think maybe you could give me some advice on how I should start?” Mae frowned. “I’d pay you for your time, of course.”

  At this point, Tess would have paid Mae for something creative to relieve her boredom. “Let’s don’t worry about a fee. I’ll find chiles a challenge, since I’ve never handled them before. The specialized food industry is one of the fastest-growing areas today. I’d have to do some targeted research and check out the brand penetration.”

  Mae grinned. “Sounds like that may be illegal.”

  A half hour later, after Tess had eaten as much of the delicious tenderloin and relish as she could manage, the waitress brought slices of cobbler. Mae dished a scoop of pale green ice cream onto Grady’s cobbler, then gave one to Tess. “Try that and tell me what you think.”

  Tess took a taste, puzzling over the mix of flavors. “It’s hard to say. There’s pistachio and a hint of citrus.” She pursed her lips and tasted a burst of intense spice. “What was that?”

  “Pistachio jalapeño ice cream,” Mae said proudly. “I make it myself. I’ve got salsa and barbecue products, too. Each of them comes in four different levels of heat. Grady here can take up to level two. The sheriff enjoys level three. Only Miguel can handle number four.”

  “Miguel?”

  “Oh, you’ll meet Miguel. Everyone does sooner or later.” Mae drummed her fingers on the spotless table-top. “Think maybe you can help me design a label and make a catalogue?”

  The more Tess tasted the ice cream, the more excited she became. “I’d be happy to try. I don’t know anything about chiles, but this ice cream of yours is wonderful. A sophisticated mix of sweetness and spices.” Already Tess could think of a dozen restaurants that would give it a trial run.

  Probably a few high-end resorts, too.

  “Is that a fact? Well now, we’ll definitely have to talk, my dear. Meanwhile, I won’t keep you from your walk. Enjoy Almost.” Mae smiled. “Most of us do.” As Tess got up, she touched her arm. “By the way, are you married?”

  “Er—no.”

  “Are you close to getting married?”

  Tess felt heat climb into her face. “Not that I know of.”

  Mae clucked her tongue. “A pretty thing like you. Makes a body wonder about men today. T.J. isn’t married either, you know.”

  “How absolutely … fascinating,” Tess murmured.

  “Isn’t it just. Well, you two better get going now. Don’t forget to tell the sheriff what I said.”

  Twenty minutes later, they had covered most of downtown Almost. Tess and Grady visited the feed store, the library, and the cluttered newspaper office. Everyone asked Tess if she was married, and everyone managed to inform her that T.J. was definitely unattached. When Grady mentioned that Tess would be visiting for a few days, each person had offered her a place to stay in a tone of sincere welcome.

  Tess realized T.J. was absolutely right. People did take care of each other here in Almost.

  The walk had given Tess a dozen ideas for names for Mae’s food products and the outline of an adventurous campaign to introduce her chile line via the Internet. From there, she could add specialty food stores and a few key restaurants. Tess had also been enlisted to judge a third-grade art competition and talk about women in business at an upcoming 4-H dinner.

  When the mayor refused to hear of waiving payment, Tess graciously agreed on ten dollars per event.

  Tess chuckled, wondering what Richard would say about that.

  She was hot and happy, already sorting through plans for an auction to benefit the clinic that Almost desperately needed. Tess was fairly certain she could find a national magazine that would cover the story as a human interest piece. Then she could barter free medical equipment for the town because of the publicity.

  She took Grady’s arm, smiling broadly. “What do you say we go have some coffee, Deputy?”

  Forty miles away, T.J. crawled across the roof in the shadow of the Dragoon mountains. He was careful to stay in the shade until he reached the edge of the balcony. He straightened his throat mike and activated his tactical headset. “Drake, are you there?”

  “Right here. We have you in sight, McCall.”

  “You have someone covering the back?”

  “Negative. The other teams were tied up on a major cost drug bust in Nogales. I’m afraid you’re all we have, McCall.”

  T.J. breathed a silent curse. He was sweating beneath his black jumpsuit and tactical vest. It was hot on the roof, and he couldn’t move once he was in position. His hands were starting to cramp, but he didn’t allow that or any thought to disturb his concentration. He looked into the scope and framed the front window of the bank directly across the street. “Any activity inside?”

  “The gunman just told us he wants to talk to the governor. We’re trying to arrange it. He also wants a million dollars and a plane to Brazil.”

  T.J. sighted carefully.

  The man had four hostages tied in chairs by the bank’s front window. One other hostage was standing by the front desk. The perpetrator was holding a pistol to her head.

  “He’s picketed the bank for a month, swearing their computers are cheating people out of their money. He claims he lost twenty thousand dollars last month, but we checked and he’s never had an account here.”

  “Any priors?” T.J. watched the gunman move restlessly before the window while he talked on the radio with the police.

  “Assault and battery on his wife. He did three months of probation, then tried it again. The next day she left for Alaska.”

  “Emotional state?”

  “Unclear. His landlady said he made four trips to Mexico in the last week, possibly for drugs.”

  “How are the hostages holding up?”

  “As well as can be expected.” Drake cursed softly. “One of them is my sister.”

  T.J.’s fingers tightened on the rifle. “Which one?”

  “That’s not a factor here, McCall.”

  T.J. knew what Drake was saying. His friend didn’
t expect special treatment for his relative. In fact, he wouldn’t tolerate it. T.J. said one short, angry word. “Get those front windows open. I’ll have only one shot, and I don’t want to worry about glass deflection.”

  “He’s not going to like it. Maybe we can turn off the exterior air-conditioning. It’s going to be risky, though. It’s your call.”

  T.J. knew the risks. The added stress might trigger the gunman, sending him on a rampage. But there was no other way to guarantee a clean shot if the situation deteriorated. “Do it.”

  Ten minutes later, the windows were open. T.J. adjusted his scope, measuring for wind and range. He had trained at two hundred yards, so the distance was good. It was the gunman’s state of mind he was worried about now. He couldn’t allow himself to think about Drake’s sister being caught inside.

  He looked through the scope and framed the front windows. He saw the man turn sharply and gesture, then throw something down on the floor. He shouted as he grabbed one of the women and jabbed his revolver under her neck. “Drake, are you seeing this?”

  “Affirmative.” Static crackled, then Drake’s voice returned. “You are clear to fire,” he said grimly. “Repeat, clear to fire.”

  T.J. tracked the man, waiting until the hostage was out of his line of fire. He focused, lining up for one shot in the back of the head, which would guarantee a clean takedown.

  The gunman gestured wildly, slapping the woman and sending her to her knees.

  T.J. squeezed out one shot.

  T.J. slanted his forehead against the steering wheel as wind whipped through his open window.

  The desert around him was silent. Only the wind whispered, stirring up sand and shaking the dry branches of ocotillo and smoky blue palobrea. The silence of the high desert could be unnerving to those unused to its secrets, but T.J. had always found pleasure in the silence. And he did so now.

  Breathing.

  Trying to block out images of shattered glass and a fallen body.

  He stared down at two hundred miles of snaking canyons red in the fire of sunset. And he breathed. Letting the bright colors and the hot wind heal him, as they always did.