Homecoming (20 page)
“What a guy.” Federica chuckled then looked past Jack’s shoulder to the back of the room. Her eyes rounded. “Hey.” She nudged him with her elbow. “Those are
bars.
”
“Well, it’s a jailhouse, honey. Jail cells have bars on them.”
She jumped off his lap and walked over, fascinated. The back of the room was closed off by thick floor-to-ceiling steel bars. The door had a big, old-fashioned lock on it and was slightly ajar. The key in the lock looked like it could have opened the gates of a medieval castle. “You use it a lot?” She grabbed the bars and tried to rattle them.
“Nah.” Jack stood up and leaned against the desk, amused at her reaction. “Just once in a while when Steve Bond hangs one on. But that’s for his own protection. His wife’s mighty handy with a skillet and if he’s locked up, it gives her time to cool off.”
“I wonder what it’s like to be locked up?” Federica mused.
“Well, only one way to find out.” Jack came away from the desk. He put his hand to the small of her back and pushed her gently into the cell. The cell door closed with a loud
snick
. “So. What’s it like?”
Federica looked around. The cell was small and clean, with a narrow cot bolted to the floor, a small porcelain sink and a chamber pot with a wooden cover. Federica pointed to the chamber pot. “The prisoners have to use
tha
t?”
“No. I let Steve use my bathroom, unless he’s so pie-eyed he can’t aim. Had an offer from an antique dealer passing through town for that chamber pot. Said it would make a wonderful planter.” Jack shook his head. “Hundred and fifty dollars. I was tempted, let me tell you.”
Federica was looking around. She shivered and moved to the bars.
Jack watched her curl her small hands around the bars. They were so close he could smell her perfume, but separated by the bars. He covered her hands with his and looked down at her. Her hands were soft, but he knew that already. He knew how soft she was all over.
He released her hands and reached through to hold her head still as he started to bend down. “I guess you’re my prisoner now,” he said, his voice husky.
“Oh, yeah,” she whispered.
Jack groaned and pressed up against the bars. He cupped her neck with his hands and used his thumbs to tip her head up.
The door opened and a gust of air filled the small room.
“Unhand that woman, you monster
!” cried a woman’s voice. Jack twisted his head in surprise and froze for a moment. Then he straightened up and turned around, moving squarely in front of Federica.
An attractive, curvaceous brunette stood in the doorway, wild-eyed and trembling like a leaf. She had picked up one of the guns from the desk and the hand holding it was shaking, too. Damn! It was the .45, loaded and ready for bear. Or worse, loaded and ready for man. And it had a hair trigger.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” Jack kept his voice low, and gauged the distance between them.
“Get away from her!” The woman’s voice was shaking, high-pitched and hysterical. “Federica!” she called out. “Are you all right?”
He heard Federica’s voice behind him. “Ellen?”
She knew the woman
? He turned his head just enough to see Federica as she edged her head past his back. He stepped firmly back in front of her. Federica could sort things out with the brunette later, but right now he had a hysterical, out-of-control woman brandishing a loaded gun and he had no intention of having Federica stop a bullet.
“Let me see her!” The woman’s grip on the gun slipped and she caught it in both hands. Jack winced.
“Ah, lady, you want to be careful with that thing—”
“
I want to see her! I want to see Federica now!”
“Sure thing, ma’am,” Jack said soothingly. “Of course you can see her. But first, why don’t you just put that thing down—”
“Ellen, what on Earth are you doing—”
“
Let me see her!
”
“Just put that gun down—”
Their three voices rose and bounced around the little room.
“Hey, Jack, what’s all the noise?” Wyatt stuck his head into the room.
“
Wyatt, watch out. That gun’s loaded
!” Jack barely had time to see Wyatt’s startled look and the brunette turning with the gun in her hand before he made a leap. The gun’s report made his ears ring and the smell of cordite filled the room.
He wrenched the gun out of the brunette’s hand and with a cry she ran to the jail cell and embraced Federica through the bars.
“Oh, honey, I’m so glad you’re all right—”
“Ellen, how on Earth—”
“And don’t worry, I’ll get you out of here—”
“Ellen, I’m so sorry about Springsteen—”
The two women were babbling and crying and making an incredible ruckus. Jack looked at them for a moment and shook his head. Women. His heart was still in overdrive, but Federica was hugging the brunette through the bars. Obviously, there wasn’t any immediate danger. Still, he picked up the gun and carefully unloaded it. You never knew. The brunette could turn crazy again.
“Jack?”
His head whipped around. He’d forgotten all about Wyatt, who was standing in the doorway, staring into the room as if he’d seen a ghost. He was clutching his shirtsleeve. A light trickle of blood seeped through his fingers.
“Wyatt!” Jack rushed to his brother’s side, trying to push back the spasm of fear. “God, you’ve been shot!”
Wyatt glanced down at his sleeve absently. “Guess I have,” he said carelessly. Then his eyes fixed on the two women again.
Jack gently pried Wyatt’s fingers off his upper arm, widened the tear in the sleeve and started breathing again. It was just a nick, really. The bleeding had almost stopped. Probably wouldn’t even need stitches. He and Wyatt and Doc Alonzo could share a beer and a laugh over it at Stella’s. It would make for a great story. Wyatt’s war wound.
Then he looked at Wyatt’s face.
“Wyatt? What’s the matter, man? It’s not bleeding. It’s just a scratch, really.”
“I—” Wyatt turned a stunned face to his brother. “Who is that woman? She’s gorgeous.”
Jack snorted and rolled his eyes. “Oh, shit. Here we go again.”
Chapter Eleven
“Unhand that woman.” Federica giggled and wiped her eyes. She was still light-headed. She and Ellen had babbled and cried in each other’s arms for several minutes after Jack sprang her from jail, but now they were both more in control and beaming at each other. “Honestly, El. Where on Earth did you
get
that line?”
“Great, isn’t it?” Ellen grinned proudly. “I don’t know. Some old Errol Flynn movie, I think. It just seemed an appropriate thing to say at the time.” Her face suddenly turned sober. “God, Federica, it’s been awful. I come into the sheriff’s office to ask whether anyone in town has seen a Miss Federica Mansion, five-foot-three or so, blonde hair, blue eyes, and then I discover you behind bars, with a man’s hands at your throat. I’ve been so worried about you. I flew to San Francisco and hired a car and just drove straight up, terrified as hell all the way. I—I didn’t know if I was coming to rescue you or…”
“Or?”
Ellen swallowed and gave a wobbly smile. “Or…or bury you.”
“Oh, El,” Federica whispered. Fresh tears welled up and she hugged Ellen again. They rocked in each others’ arms.
Jack had had about enough. He cleared his throat. “Ah…gir—” He stopped himself just in time. “Ladies. I hate to interrupt this touching scene, but my brother—”
Both women looked at him as if he’d just disembarked from Mars. Ellen looked to Federica.
“Ellen, I’d like you to meet the sheriff of Carson’s Bluff, Jack Sutter. Jack, this is Ellen Larsen, my best friend.” Federica turned back to Ellen. “Oh, El, I didn’t realize you’d be so worried, I’m so sorry. I just wasn’t thinking.”
Jack shifted awkwardly from one foot to another. “Ah, Federica, Wyatt here—”
“Well, what did you expect?” Ellen wiped away a tear, then looked at the mascara smear on her handkerchief. She tried to glare at Federica, but it didn’t work. “Your emails kept bouncing. I kept phoning and phoning, but the answering service message at your house was always the same, and nobody in this town was answering any faxes—”
“Ladies, my broth—” Jack tried again.
“I know.” Federica looked guilt-stricken. “The fax lines were…down.”
“ —and that creep of an uncle of yours was no help—”
“Ladies, my brother here—”
“—nor was that louse Russell White. Finally, I got in touch with that guy we met at the Christmas party. You know—the nerd?”
“Oh. Willard Greenlee. Of Finances.” Federica smiled through her tears. “That was some jacket he wore to the party, remember? Sort of a neon green.” Both women were silent for a moment, clearly remembering the jacket.
Jack recognized an opportunity and jumped in. “Federica, Wyatt—”
“Will,” Ellen said. “He wanted me to call him Will. Anyway, I phoned him from Paris and he said that no one knew where you were. The company wasn’t even completely sure that you’d arrived, can you imagine?”
“Well,” Federica said uneasily. “I have been kind of…out of touch.”
“Federica, Wyatt’s been—”
“I don’t care.” Ellen planted her hands on her shapely hips. “You’d think that somebody
somewhere
would be worried when someone drops off the face of the Earth for a week. So when I quit—”
“Federica, do you realize that Wyatt—”
“When you
what?”
Ellen waved her hand. “It’s a long story, honey. Tell you some other time. Anyway, I quit and decided that I’d come looking for you myself.”
“Would you ladies mind—”
“Oh,
El
,” Federica wailed and got a fresh tissue out of her waist pouch. “I’m so sorry. Here I’ve worried you needlessly and dragged you halfway around the world and now you’ve lost your job and…and it’s
all my fault.”
She blew her nose.
“I didn’t
lose
my job, you ninny. Weren’t you listening? I quit. And it felt
great
. Do you know what those boneheads in Administration did to us? They flew us out to Paris on—”
He’d had it.
“
Will you two pipe down for one second!
” Jack roared. The women fell silent and two pretty faces turned to him in surprise. “I’ve been trying to tell the two of you for the past ten minutes that my brother Wyatt’s been shot.”
Both women looked blank. “Wyatt?” Federica blinked owlishly. “Shot?”
Jack didn’t say anything more, just stepped aside. Behind him, a pale Wyatt lifted his uninjured arm and waved his fingers weakly. “Hi.”
Jack had practically had to beat them over the head with a stick to get their attention, but once he had it, the response was gratifying. Both women sprang to Wyatt’s side and started fussing over him. Of the two, Ellen was the better fusser. While Federica commiserated with Wyatt, Ellen briskly asked Jack where a first aid kit could be found, rooted competently through it, carefully cut away Wyatt’s shirt, efficiently cleaned the wound and wrapped a sterile bandage around Wyatt’s upper arm.
Wyatt’s eyes never left her face.
“There.” Ellen stepped back and eyed her handiwork proudly. “I knew those first aid courses they made us take would come in handy some day.”
“Ellen’s a flight attendant for Inter Airways,” Federica offered.
“
Was
,” Ellen corrected.
“Oh,” Federica said, instantly contrite. “That’s right. I forgot.”
“Don’t fret, honey,” Ellen said gently. “It’s all for the best.” She turned to Wyatt and smiled tentatively at him. “So…I guess it’s about time I apologized, Mr…Sutter, is it?”
“Wyatt.”
“Wyatt. I was very distraught, you see. I thought that Federica was being strangled—” Ellen stopped and looked at Federica, then Jack, then back to Federica. She narrowed her eyes. “Say, in all the commotion, I forgot to ask how come—”
“Are you
sure
you’re all right, Wyatt?” Federica said swiftly. “I mean you’re not hurt anywhere else, are you?”
“That’s right.” Ellen immediately turned back to Wyatt. “Like I said, I’m terribly, terribly sorry. I guess that gun just sort of…went off.” She barely stopped herself from wringing her hands. “Does it hurt anywhere else?”
“Yes,” Wyatt said. His color had come back and a smile played around his mouth.
Ellen bent anxiously over him, a lock of her shiny black hair falling forward, her full lips pursed. “Where,” she asked, placing a gentle hand on Wyatt’s shoulder. “Where does it hurt?”
“Here.” Wyatt tapped his lips. “Why don’t you kiss it and make it better?”
EMAIL FROM: [email protected]
Dear Will,
WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE CARSON’S BLUFF DEAL IS OFF? I’ve been working on this fucking project for the last four months. They can’t
do
this to me! I’m stuck out here on this godforsaken island, up to my knees in cinders and they shoot the ground right out from under me. They just can’t do this. I won’t let them. And I can’t lose my job now. I just can’t. I’m afraid you’re right about Mr. Gambetti. And to think that when I first approached him, he seemed like such a gentleman, so understanding.