night.”
The woman attempted to speak, but nothing came out except a garbled sound.
“She had a stroke a while back and hasn’t been able to speak since. Doc called it aphasia. Said her voice may or may not come back.” He patted the woman lovingly on the hand. “Come on, dear. The priest’s ready to begin.”
As Jordan moved back a few steps, Diego pushed his wife toward the front of the room. Halfway past her, Maria Morales reached out and grabbed Jordan’s wrist in a death grip.
Jordan flinched when the pain shot up her arm. Before Diego could unclench his wife’s fingers, the woman’s squinting eyes drilled into Jordan.
What was it behind that stare? Pain? Sadness?
No, it was fear. Jordan was sure of it.
Help me
, Maria mouthed before her husband wheeled her to the front row for her son’s memorial service.
CHAPTER 5
The eulogy was short and sweet despite several pauses while Lucas Santana swiped at his eyes. Although Rusty had been raised Catholic, he’d stopped going to church many years before. Nevertheless, the priest led the rest of the service and at one point, even stopped to walk over and comfort Maria Morales.
Jordan couldn’t stop thinking about the way Maria had clung to her. Did her mouthing “Help me” mean anything, or was it merely something said out of grief? Jordan’s only experience with stroke victims had been her ex’s grandmother, who’d had no noticeable physical effects except right-sided paralysis. Emotionally, however, she’d been a time bomb, one minute laughing, the next crying.
Was Maria having that same kind of poststroke mood swing?
Jordan couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to it, and her imagination ran wild with the possibilities. WasDiego Morales abusing her behind closed doors? He’d seemed so loving toward his wife that Jordan quickly dispelled the notion. What then? Was the woman asking for help to speak again?
Maybe Danny was right when he said she was watching way too many TV shows and imagining something more sinister. Perhaps “Help me” was all Maria could say.
“It was a nice service, wasn’t it?”
Jordan turned as Lucas walked over. Dressed in jeans and a starched white shirt, he still looked good for a guy her father’s age, even with swollen eyes.
“It was, Lucas. I’m glad I’m here and could give my personal condolences to Rusty’s family.”
He harrumphed before catching himself, and the words of the old cowboy who’d given them a lift to the door that day sprung into Jordan’s head. Lucas Santana and Diego Morales were not on the best of terms.
“Since you were there the other night, I feel like you’re part of the family now, Jordan. I hope you won’t be a stranger to Santana Ranch.”
Jordan absently crossed her arms over her chest, aware of his interest in that area.
Yeah! Like I’d ever visit the ranch without a bodyguard.
“Come on,” Lucas said, reaching for her arm. “The food’s ready in the bunkhouse.”
On her feet now, Jordan suddenly remembered she hadn’t come alone. “Lucas, I want you to meet my brother. He’s—”
“The special agent sent to our neck of the woods by TSCRA. I know.” He reached over and shook Danny’s hand. “’Bout time you guys showed up. Some of my friends have already lost thousands in cattle revenue just this month alone.”
Both Jordan and Danny were speechless.
So much for anonymity.
“So Danny—that is your name, right?” When Danny nodded, Santana continued. “I figured they’d send someone with a little more experience. Guess we’ll have to take what we can get. Anyway, how are you going to go about finding these good-for-nothing thieves?”
“I’m working on that, sir,” Danny replied. “Right now we don’t have much to go on. But if it helps you sleep easier tonight, I was in the Department of Agriculture for a lot of years before I got this assignment, and I have a criminal justice degree. I can assure you, I know what I’m
The woman attempted to speak, but nothing came out except a garbled sound.
“She had a stroke a while back and hasn’t been able to speak since. Doc called it aphasia. Said her voice may or may not come back.” He patted the woman lovingly on the hand. “Come on, dear. The priest’s ready to begin.”
As Jordan moved back a few steps, Diego pushed his wife toward the front of the room. Halfway past her, Maria Morales reached out and grabbed Jordan’s wrist in a death grip.
Jordan flinched when the pain shot up her arm. Before Diego could unclench his wife’s fingers, the woman’s squinting eyes drilled into Jordan.
What was it behind that stare? Pain? Sadness?
No, it was fear. Jordan was sure of it.
Help me
, Maria mouthed before her husband wheeled her to the front row for her son’s memorial service.
CHAPTER 5
The eulogy was short and sweet despite several pauses while Lucas Santana swiped at his eyes. Although Rusty had been raised Catholic, he’d stopped going to church many years before. Nevertheless, the priest led the rest of the service and at one point, even stopped to walk over and comfort Maria Morales.
Jordan couldn’t stop thinking about the way Maria had clung to her. Did her mouthing “Help me” mean anything, or was it merely something said out of grief? Jordan’s only experience with stroke victims had been her ex’s grandmother, who’d had no noticeable physical effects except right-sided paralysis. Emotionally, however, she’d been a time bomb, one minute laughing, the next crying.
Was Maria having that same kind of poststroke mood swing?
Jordan couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to it, and her imagination ran wild with the possibilities. WasDiego Morales abusing her behind closed doors? He’d seemed so loving toward his wife that Jordan quickly dispelled the notion. What then? Was the woman asking for help to speak again?
Maybe Danny was right when he said she was watching way too many TV shows and imagining something more sinister. Perhaps “Help me” was all Maria could say.
“It was a nice service, wasn’t it?”
Jordan turned as Lucas walked over. Dressed in jeans and a starched white shirt, he still looked good for a guy her father’s age, even with swollen eyes.
“It was, Lucas. I’m glad I’m here and could give my personal condolences to Rusty’s family.”
He harrumphed before catching himself, and the words of the old cowboy who’d given them a lift to the door that day sprung into Jordan’s head. Lucas Santana and Diego Morales were not on the best of terms.
“Since you were there the other night, I feel like you’re part of the family now, Jordan. I hope you won’t be a stranger to Santana Ranch.”
Jordan absently crossed her arms over her chest, aware of his interest in that area.
Yeah! Like I’d ever visit the ranch without a bodyguard.
“Come on,” Lucas said, reaching for her arm. “The food’s ready in the bunkhouse.”
On her feet now, Jordan suddenly remembered she hadn’t come alone. “Lucas, I want you to meet my brother. He’s—”
“The special agent sent to our neck of the woods by TSCRA. I know.” He reached over and shook Danny’s hand. “’Bout time you guys showed up. Some of my friends have already lost thousands in cattle revenue just this month alone.”
Both Jordan and Danny were speechless.
So much for anonymity.
“So Danny—that is your name, right?” When Danny nodded, Santana continued. “I figured they’d send someone with a little more experience. Guess we’ll have to take what we can get. Anyway, how are you going to go about finding these good-for-nothing thieves?”
“I’m working on that, sir,” Danny replied. “Right now we don’t have much to go on. But if it helps you sleep easier tonight, I was in the Department of Agriculture for a lot of years before I got this assignment, and I have a criminal justice degree. I can assure you, I know what I’m
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