Race to Rescue. Dana Mentink
to Rockridge?
What was she going to do now? She thought about going back in to report it to the police, but she didn’t want to have another encounter with Sergeant Williams. She fished around in her purse for the number of the rental car company and dialed.
We are unavailable at this time. Please leave a message and we will get back to you as soon as possible.
She clicked the phone shut. Drew was out there, possibly dying, and she needed a car. Her breath grew short and a panic started to twist through her stomach. Drew. She had to find him before it was too late.
He was all she had left.
A movement on the sidewalk startled her. She looked up.
The detail that caught her attention first was his eyes, those piercing blue eyes that had lingered in her mind since she’d fled this rugged state. They were the same eyes she remembered, vivid, determined. Angry.
His chin was stubbled, his thatch of short, dark hair tousled. The casual demeanor did not jibe with the expression on his face. His lips were closed in a tight line as he tapped his baseball cap against his muscular thigh.
Her mouth went dry. “Booker.”
TWO
Booker shoved his hands into his pockets and forced his voice into as pleasant a tone as he could manage. “Hello, Anita. Did they find Drew?”
She gaped at him. “How did you…?” Her attention was diverted by the big dog that trotted over and inclined his head for a scratch.
“Heard it from a bank teller. Pays to know where the action is in this part of the world.” He saw the fatigue and worry on her face vanish behind a mask of self-control. Ace basked in her gentle touch. Clearly the dog didn’t have as good a sense of character as he’d thought.
Anita bent down to scratch Ace behind the ears. “Hi, boy. I’m glad to see you. Looks like you’re getting around pretty good.”
Booker shoved his hands in his pockets as the dog stared at her with devotion in his eyes.
The tenderness in Anita’s voice disappeared as she straightened. “They haven’t found Drew. I’m not sure they’re devoting enough manpower to his case.”
“I’m sure you told them so.” He didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm.
She opened her mouth to answer and stopped, as if she couldn’t find any words that would work.
She was never short on words, he thought, and the look of uncertainty on her face nagged at him. He let the silence linger for a while. “I hope they find him. He’s a good guy.”
“I didn’t know you two were friends.”
He allowed himself a slight smile. “He took some pictures in my mine tunnels at your request, remember? I showed him around some spots on my neighbor’s ranch, too. We talked for a bit while he was doing the shoot.” She remembered all too well; he saw it by the tightening of her mouth, the self-righteous set to her chin. She’d used the pictures as part of her bid to persuade the town council to deny him the right to work the mine on his property. What had Leeman given her in exchange? A feature in his magazine? A nice donation toward her research? It still stung, but what hurt more was the way she’d trampled his heart in the process, as if he had meant no more to her than a stranger. Had he actually told her he loved her? It seemed unreal now. And had she stood there dumbstruck and then turned away without a word? He’d convinced himself they could have something special, but he’d learned the hard way it had all been gut-wrenchingly one-sided. Dumb cowboy, dumb mistake.
Anita cleared her throat. “Well, anyway, I’m going to search until I find him, police or no police. I was headed over to the magazine, but I hit a snag.” She gestured to the car. “Someone flattened my tires.”
He wondered how she’d managed to make an enemy already. Whoever it was had left him to wrestle with an uncomfortable decision. Should he walk away, let her beg a ride from someone else, abandon her like she’d done to him? Something about the lift of her chin and the tiny tremble in her full lips tugged at his heart. There was a carefully controlled desperation in her that called to something deep inside him.
Deal with it, Booker. You don’t have a choice and you know it. He couldn’t leave a lady stranded, even if it was the last lady he’d ever want to see again. “I can give you a lift over there, if you want.”
Her face pinked, eyes flicking up and down the dusty street as she considered. “Um, well, thank you. It’s awfully nice of you to do that for me.”
He pulled his keys from the pocket of his faded jeans. “It’s not for you. It’s for your brother.”
She grabbed her purse and followed him to a battered Ford pickup. Ace followed right behind, tail wagging.
Booker stepped ahead of her to wrench open the passenger’s door and felt a flush infuse his face as his shoulder brushed hers. “Got hit. Door sticks.”
She climbed up onto the cracked leather seat while he fired up the engine. He could smell her enticing fragrance, a faint whiff of vanilla that made his head swim. How did she manage to smell so nice in the desert heat? He concentrated on cranking up the air conditioner. Drive, Booker. Get the job done and get this lady out of your life.
As they pulled onto the road, she examined the neat, hay-scented interior and the plastic bin on the floor filled with maps. “Are you planning a trip?”
He didn’t divert his gaze from the front window. “Something like that.”
They drove the five miles in silence toward the last place on earth Booker wanted to be.
The buildings along the main street were old, wood-sided structures. The tallest was the post office, covered in a cracking layer of off-white paint. A small church advertised a summer camp, and a few children splashed in a wading pool under the shade of a gangly mesquite tree. Booker waved at a man unloading sacks of grain at Pete’s Feed and Supply.
The magazine headquarters was one of the more modern buildings in the town, with a neatly kept cluster of yucca shrubs in the front. Booker turned off the engine and shot Anita a look. He’d given her a ride. That was enough for one day, wasn’t it? “I’ll wait here.”
She hesitated. “Oh, would you come in with me? Just for a minute? I figure the more people who look concerned about my brother’s disappearance the better.”
With a sigh, he acquiesced. Ace hunkered down in the shade of a scrubby bush to wait for their return.
A blast of cool air greeted them as they checked in with a harried secretary who ushered them into an office that smelled of stale coffee and cigarettes. Booker squirmed in the chair, trying to figure a way out. A tall, lanky man with glasses and a head of curly brown hair came in. He was followed by Leeman, dressed in pleated trousers.
The curly-haired man smiled and shook their hands. “Hello. I’m Paul Gershwin, Drew’s editor. I don’t think we met last time you were here. I was on assignment in Europe. You know Cyrus Leeman, I understand.”
Leeman nodded at them, smiled at Anita and grasped her hand as he slid into a chair. “Lovely to see you again.”
Gershwin extended a hand to Booker. “I didn’t catch your name.”
Anita spoke up. “This is Booker Scott, he’s a…friend. Of Drew’s. We’re both concerned about my brother.”
He nodded. “Me, too. Drew’s kind of eccentric. It’s not unusual for him to take off for a few days, but I’m worried about that phone call you described to me.”
Anita leaned forward. “What was he working on?”
Gershwin opened his mouth to answer when Leeman cut him off. “Who knows? Your brother had a tendency to go off on tangents, if you’ll excuse me for saying so. He was likely to stumble on topics that interested him more than what