Текст книги "Mama Rides Shotgun"

Автор книги: Deborah Sharp

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Doc Abel was alive, but barely, bleeding from a bullet to the gut.

A helicopter was rushed from the hospital in Stuart. It now pounded the air above us. Riders looked to the sky, hands clamped tight over cowboy hats. The sun was almost gone now. Lanterns gleamed in the treeless pasture, marking off a makeshift landing pad. As the chopper descended, a search beam washed the scene in an eerie glow.

“Move back, people,’’ Sal yelled as the crowd shifted, closing in again around Doc. “The medical team will need some room.’’

___

When Wynonna screamed, we weren’t the only ones who heard her. People came running from all over camp. Cell phone calls to 911 must have lit up the lines at the county sheriff’s central dispatch. In the crowd, I saw Austin and Johnny Adams; Trey and his sister, Belle. The big-bottomed cowgirl showed up. So did the two teenagers, their eyes bright orbs. Sal hustled over, right behind my sisters and me. He and Carlos had taken charge until deputies from the Dundee County sheriff’s office could arrive at the remote camp.

“I’m a police officer,’’ Carlos kept saying, as he elbowed his way through the jostling mass.

Carlos did what he could for an unconscious Doc. A rider who was a nurse stepped forward to help, checking Doc’s vital signs and applying pressure to the gunshot wound. Then, Carlos assigned a few onlookers to help Sal with crowd control. The shooting scene was nearly impossible to secure. People had already trampled all over, beginning with Wynonna in her brown fringed boots.

As quickly as he could, with the rescue helicopter still in flight, Carlos turned his attention to her.

“Did you see who shot him, Wynonna?’’

She shook her head, eyes fastened on Doc and the blood leaking from his gut onto the nurse’s rolled-up towel. When Wynonna turned her face to Carlos, tears streaked her cheeks.

As she stood, he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into a tight hug. It looked more like he was checking Wynonna for a weapon than giving her comfort.

“Did Doc say anything?’’ he asked, stepping away from her.

“I think he was already out of it when I found him.’’ She rubbed a hand over her eyes, unaware Doc’s blood now streaked her forehead. “He just moaned and mumbled about being shot. Then, he said something else. It sounded like ‘I’m sorry.’ ’’

I glanced at my sisters. Maddie raised an eyebrow. Marty shrugged.

Wynonna was pale, and seemed to be swaying a bit.

“Can somebody find us a chair?’’ Carlos yelled to the crowd.

Within moments, he had a half dozen to choose from. He took one, faced it away from Doc and the nurse, and helped Wynonna sit down. As he did, he ran his hands from her calves to her ankles, giving the top of each boot a discreet pat. He might have been moving her legs to make her more comfortable. But I’d bet he was ruling out all the places she could have stashed a handgun.

He placed another of the chairs right next to her and sat down “Why don’t you tell me in your own words what happened?’’

She took in a shuddering breath. Placing her palms on her knees, she seemed to notice the blood on her hands for the first time. She scrubbed them hard across the fabric of her jeans.

“Wynonna?’’ Carlos prodded.

Finally, she began to speak in a robotic tone. “I left our RV, and was headed over to the trail boss’s campsite. We’ve set all the arrangements for Lawton’s funeral, and I thought maybe Jack would want to make an announcement about it at dinner.’’

Mama hobbled up to join us, using a hickory branch as a walking stick. Her desire to be in on the activity must have won out over her ankle pain. I leaned over and whispered, “A helicopter’s on the way for Doc, who got shot. Carlos is questioning Wynonna, who found him.’’

“Jesus H. Christ on a crutch,’’ Mama breathed.

“I was crossing the pasture when I saw Doc,’’ Wynonna continued. “I ran to him. When I saw the blood, and how bad he looked, I started yelling for help.’’

“And no one else was around when you arrived?’’

“Carlos, you’ve already asked me if I know who did it. I don’t.’’ Exasperation edged her voice. “When I ran up, Doc was on the ground. A cattle egret was the only other living creature I saw in this pasture.’’

“Did you hear anything?’’

“You mean besides the sound of these stupid Crackers all over camp with their cow whips? No, I didn’t.’’

She covered her eyes with a hand again. “I don’t understand who would have wanted to shoot him, you know?’’

She turned to stare at Doc, and all of our eyes followed hers. The nurse leaned over him, urging him to hang on.

“Will he be okay?’’ Wynonna asked Carlos, her voice small and scared.

Just about then, the chop-chop-chop of the helicopter sounded in the distance.

Carlos looked up with the rest of the crowd. “They’ll do what they can.’’

___

Dundee County sheriff’s deputies circulated through the camp, looking for a weapon, and for witnesses who might help explain the events leading up to Doc’s shooting. So far, they hadn’t found anyone who knew anything. Except for Wynonna, that is.

Carlos pulled me aside and asked me to take her back to her camp and keep her there while he briefed the local authorities. My sisters and Mama came with us.

The inside of the Brambles’ RV was all expensive-looking dark wood. The plush carpet was hunter green. The living area featured leather furniture and a flat-screen TV. The sink in the galley was porcelain.

“Can I get y’all something to drink? How ’bout coffee?’’ Wynonna asked, pulling out cups from an oak cabinet in the galley.

“Hot chocolate?’’ Maddie asked hopefully.

Mama punched her thigh. “Whatever you have is fine, Wynonna,’’ she said pointedly.

When the coffee was made, Wynonna started to pour the first cup. Her hand shook so much she spilled it on the countertop. Maddie grabbed a paper towel. Marty took the pot when Wynonna set it down.

“Why don’t you have a seat?’’ Marty said. “We’ll get this.’’

As Marty poured and Maddie mopped, I got up and opened the small ’fridge, looking for half-and-half. The only thing inside was a couple of shriveled apples and a chilled bottle of Champagne. French. I wondered about the special occasion it was intended to celebrate.

Rustling around in the galley, I found sugar, powdered creamer, and a spoon. I put out an open bag of chocolate chip cookies. Marty got up and arranged them prettily on a plate. Maddie scarfed down the first one before we even sat down again.

“Thanks,’’ Wynonna said, looking at us gratefully. “I guess I’m in a pretty bad state.’’

“Not without reason,’’ I said. “You suffered a terrible loss; and now you’re the one who finds Doc. You’ve handled yourself better than many people could.’’

Marty took a bird-like nibble of a cookie. “I think I’d be in the hospital if all of that happened to me.’’

Mama said, “No, you wouldn’t, Marty. The Lord always gives us the strength we need.’’

Looking at Wynonna, who seemed ten years older than she had just a few days ago, I wondered if the Man upstairs had shorted her on that ration of strength.

“Honey, I sure do hate to bother you.’’ Mama shifted to stretch her leg. “But do you mind if I use that little throw pillow to prop up my foot? The one that says When Things Get Tough, the Tough Go Shopping?’’

Wynonna said, “I’m so sorry, Rosalee! I plumb forgot about your ankle!’’

I truly hoped that with Doc Abel underway to the hospital, Mama wouldn’t launch into a dissertation about her sprain.

“Oh, it’s fine, honey,’’ she said, with a wave.

I let out a sigh of relief. Too soon.

“It’s just throbbing a little with all this walking around. Doc Abel warned me to stay off it.’’

At the mention of Doc’s name, Mama went quiet along with the rest of us.

“I know he’ll be all right,’’ Marty finally said, patting Wynonna’s hand. “Those air ambulances are something. And, they can do amazing things in emergency rooms these days.’’

Wynonna smiled shakily at Marty, and then turned to Mama.

“I do feel awful about what happened with Shotgun, Rosalee.’’

“I know you do, honey. And Belle came by to say the same.’’

“It’s sure strange y’all ran into the one thing that poor horse can’t abide,’’ Wynonna said.

My brain sent a signal to the hairs on my neck.

“What do you mean?’’ I asked.

“I thought Shotgun was the greatest horse in the world,’’ Maddie said.

“Well, he is, except for a fear of bees. When he was a colt, he knocked over a beekeeper’s hive in the pasture. He got stung all over. Most horses don’t like bees. But with Shotgun, it’s a real terror. The creatures make him act pure crazy. Didn’t Belle mention that?’’

My sisters and I stared at Mama, who stared right back.

“No, ma’am,’’ she said to Wynonna. “Belle surely did not mention that.’’

A hard knock rattled the RV’s door.

Wynonna shook her head and whispered, “I can’t see anybody right now. Tell them I’m resting, or I’ve gone to bed. Just tell them to go away.’’

All four of them looked at me, waiting. I got up and opened the door a crack. A big man in sheriff’s department green and a light-colored felt Western hat filled every inch of the frame.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Bramble’s had a terrible shock,’’ I said to him. “Would you mind coming back later?’’

“Yes, I would.’’ Unsmiling, he shifted a toothpick to one corner of his mouth. “Tell her Sheriff Roberts wants to talk to her.’’ He rose onto the doorstep, and the RV rocked with his weight.

“She’s not dressed,’’ I said quickly, closing the door a fraction of an inch.

“I’ll wait.’’ He stepped back to the ground and crossed his arms over his chest. The toothpick seemed to migrate on its own to the opposite corner of his mouth.

I pulled the door closed, and turned to shrug at Wynonna.

She stood up, smoothed her hair, and tucked her cowgirl shirt at her tiny waist.

“Go ahead and let him in, Mace,’’ she said. “Though the last thing I want to do right now is describe how I found Doc, you know? The sight of that blood and that poor man trying to speak is going to haunt my nightmares.’’

She stood up straight as I swung open the door. When the lawman came in, the spacious RV suddenly seemed tiny.

“Sheriff Roberts.’’ She offered him her hand. “Would you like a cup of coffee?’’

He shook his head and looked around. His gaze rested first on Maddie, then Marty, then Mama, then me. It made me nervous to have him looking at me so intently, even though I knew I hadn’t done a single thing wrong.

“Which one of you is her lawyer?’’

Wynonna’s face went a shade more pale. “Do I need a lawyer?’’

“No, ma’am. I only want to ask you a few questions. But I know how rich people are. You folks come prepared.’’

She slit her eyes at him. I saw a trace of the haughty Wynonna I’d seen that first night at Lawton’s cook site. “I can assure you,’’ she said, “I was not prepared to stumble upon a man who was my husband’s doctor and a close family friend bleeding to death on the ground. Now, Sheriff, if you’d like to sit down, I’ll tell you whatever I can.’’

His eyes showed the tiniest flicker of . . . what? Respect? Intimidation? Anger? I couldn’t be sure. The glimpse of emotion was gone almost before it registered.

“I’m sorry, ladies,’’ he said to us, sounding not at all sorry. “Y’all are uninvolved parties. I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.’’ The toothpick bobbed as he talked. “We’re investigating an attempted murder. It wouldn’t be right for you to be here when I talk to Ms. Bramble.’’

I was relieved when he said attempted murder. Doc was still alive. At least for now.

___

Maddie and I each hooked an arm around Mama’s waist, nearly carrying her from the RV to Camp Caddy. Marty followed, holding a paper plate with the rest of Wynonna’s cookies.

When Sal saw us limp into view, the relief on his face was evident, even by lantern light.

“I was about to call in the search dogs,’’ he said. “Where the hell have you four been?’’

We told him all about Wynonna, and how shaken she’d been. We felt sorry for her, the way Sheriff Roberts seemed to attack her, so soon after she’d lost her husband. He’d hustled us out of the RV before we had a chance to ask her anything else about Shotgun’s history with bees. That was definitely a line of questioning I wanted to follow up with Belle.

Sal upended my bottle of wine over one of the plastic goblets. One drop dribbled out.

“Well, there wasn’t much left anyway.’’ He looked at us guiltily. “And I sat here all alone for a long time.’’

“I thought you were helping with the investigation,’’ I said, fishing a beer from Sal’s cooler.

“Nah. I’ll let Carlos fight it out with the locals. He and that sheriff have already butted heads. Let’s just say the Dundee County boys aren’t eager for outside help.’’

I could picture it: Carlos, with his Miami manners and know-it-all attitude, would have started off on the wrong foot with the countrified, toothpick-chawin’ Sheriff Roberts. Then, the pair of them would keep rubbing each other wrong, like a wet sock over a blister. I wondered if they’d started rolling in the dirt yet, like Lawton and Johnny?

A gasp from Maddie brought me back to Camp Cadillac.

“Look lively, Mace,’’ she whispered. “You are not going to believe who is sashaying her way into Mama’s camp.’’

I turned to see Austin, wearing a nervous smile and carrying a second bottle of wine. If nothing else, the wine was welcome.

“You’re not going to throw anything at me, are you, Mace?’’ She held out the wine like a shield.

“If I recall, you’re the one with the killer aim, Austin.’’

“Be nice, Mace,’’ Mama said, grabbing the bottle and handing it to me. “The girl has gone out of her way to make up.’’

I mumbled something that might have been “thank-you’’ or “screw-you.’’

“You’re welcome,’’ Austin said, choosing to believe it was the former.

Uninvited, she settled herself into one of our camp chairs. “Now.’’ She leaned toward me, eyes burning with curiosity. “I’ve been hearing all about how you’re some kind of amateur detective. Who do you think shot Doc Abel?’’

“We haven’t had a chance to discuss it yet,’’ Marty said, sounding snippier than I’d ever heard her. “We keep getting interrupted.’’

Meow!

“Well, I have a theory I’ve been working on.’’ Austin plowed ahead, paying no heed to Marty’s insult. “Do you want to hear it?”

“Why not?’’ I shrugged.

“I think Wynonna killed her husband. Doc found out; and she tried to kill him to keep him quiet.’’ Austin beamed like a student awaiting a gold star.

“Do you have any evidence to support that?’’ I sounded like Carlos.

She smoothed her hair. “Woman’s intuition.’’

Maddie snorted.

“That and a buck will get you a cup of coffee at the courthouse,’’ Sal said.

I lifted myself from my chair. “As much as I’d like to sit around and chat, I need to check on my horse. Thanks for the wine, Austin. See you around.’’

She jumped up. “I’ll come with you, Mace. We can talk about the case.’’

Maddie rolled her eyes. Marty giggled behind her hand. Mama said, “That’s nice, honey. Mace could use a girlfriend.’’

“I’ve got two sisters and you, Mama. I don’t need any more women in my life.’’

“Amen to that,’’ Sal said.

I stalked out of the camp. Austin trailed behind me like a puppy dog.

“How’d you start solving cases, Mace?’’ she asked, as we picked our way through the pasture with flashlights.

“I’ve only solved one. And, so far, my record’s not so good on this one.’’ I shone the light ahead. “Watch that big cow paddy, Austin. It’s wet.’’

“Thanks.’’ She sidestepped. “But, I mean, how do you do it? How do you find the clues and everything?’’

“You have to start by being quiet. You have to look and listen. You can’t observe anything when you’re always jumping up, getting mad and running your mouth.’’

She was silent behind me. I thought maybe the hint had sunk in. No such luck.

“People tell me I’m observant,’’ Austin continued. “Maybe I could help you get some evidence against Wynonna.’’

“What’s the deal with you and Wynonna?’’ I asked. “Why do you hate her so much?’’

“Aside from the fact she married Trey’s daddy for his money and she thinks her shit don’t stink?’’

I let that go unanswered. We were coming up to the scene of Doc’s shooting. Sheriff Roberts must have finished with Wynonna, because there he was, arguing with Carlos. The sheriff’s arms were crossed, resting on his big belly. Their faces were inches from one another. Carlos wasn’t yelling. But I knew that quiet, clenched-jaw tone. I’d rather have the yelling.

I wanted to know what was going on, but I wasn’t about to wander into the charged space between the two men. Even the sheriff’s deputies were giving them a wide berth. Plus, if I went over with Austin, she’d surely make some kind of silly scene. So far, Little Ms. Observant hadn’t even noticed the former Miami detective and the Dundee County Sheriff, knocking antlers like two bucks in mating season.

“Why don’t we stop by Wynonna’s, see how she’s doing?’’ I made a quick U-turn before the crime scene. “Maybe you can ask her a few questions.’’

“Well, sure,’’ Austin said, sounding surprised.

As we got closer to the Bramble campsite, I heard the murmur of voices. One man, one woman. The woman’s tone was pleading, though I couldn’t make out the words. I put up a hand to stop Austin behind me, and turned with my finger to my lips.

“Quiet,’’ I whispered. “There’s something going on.’’

I pointed to my ear, and then to my eye. Listen. Look.

She nodded, catching on quickly for once.

We turned off our flashlights and crept toward the campsite, approaching from the rear. An outside light on the RV helped us find our way. We hid in the shadows of the Brambles’ stock trailer, peering at the campsite through the trailer’s metal slats.

Trey was on the bottom step to the RV, with his back to Wynonna. She was just outside the door, tugging at his shirt, trying to turn him toward her. He had a beer bottle in his hand.

“I told you no, Wynonna.’’

“Please.’’ She wiped at the tears on her face. “I can’t help it, Trey.’’

“It’s wrong. Daddy’s not even in the ground.’’

Her voice deepened, turned seductive. “You know you want it as bad as me. We’re both hurting, Trey.’’

Austin’s breath quickened. She took a step toward the RV. I clamped a hand on her arm and shook my head forcefully.

“Listen,’’ I whispered. “Clues.’’

She nodded, her eyes boring holes into Wynonna and Trey.

His shoulders slumped. He hung his head. Dropping the beer on the ground, he slowly turned to Wynonna. She took a step toward him. He reached out and ran his hands lightly over her breasts. The moan that escaped his lips seemed to come more from pain than desire.

Wynonna grabbed Trey’s wrists and pressed his hands more tightly to her. Then she dropped her hands to his belt buckle, pulling his body close.

“C’mon, Trey.’’ She put her lips to his, grinding against him. “Let’s go inside.’’

When the door of the RV closed, I whispered, “Now, that’s the kind of thing you see when you look and listen.’’

I got no response.

“Austin?’’

She stared at the door, her eyes dark with fury. She pounded her flashlight against her palm, so hard I feared she’d break the lens and cut herself. Her whole being seemed focused on what was going on inside that RV. I edged away several steps. Waves of rage were rolling off Austin’s body, and I didn’t want to get drowned.

Whispered murmurs followed me through the crowd at the dinner site. I had the distinct feeling people were talking about me. Then again, Doc had been shot less than two hours earlier. A medevac helicopter swooped in like something out of a movie and plucked him, wounded and bleeding, from our midst. Who was I to think the conversation centered on me?

“Excuse me, Mace?’’ The big cowgirl put a hand on my arm to stop me. She glanced over her shoulder, seeking support from her friend with the tight curls. “People are starting to get nervous about being on this ride. We were wondering if you’d found out yet who shot Doc?’’

I looked at her like she was crazy. “I have no idea. The place is crawling with cops. Why don’t you ask one of them?’’

“Well, the deputies are busy.’’ She fiddled with a braid. “We heard about that note you got telling you Lawton Bramble was murdered. Everyone says you’ve solved a lot of murders.’’

I was about ready to commit a murder. This gossip was getting out of hand. I was certain that, somehow, Mama was behind it. I scanned the crowd, trying to spot her lemon-colored hat.

“I don’t know any more than the next person about what happened,’’ I told the cowgirl.

“So you don’t know who did it?’’

“Not a clue.’’

She turned to shake her head at her friend and who knows how many other people looking on from the crowd.

“Well, I think I know what happened,’’ she said, turning back to me.

Of course you do, I thought.

“I think that cook, Johnny, did it. He owed Lawton a lot of money, so he killed him. But then Doc Abel saw Johnny do it, and planned to blackmail him. He had to shoot Doc.’’

“That sounds like a really good theory,’’ I said. “You should share it with Detective Martinez. That’s Carlos Martinez, from Miami. He’s riding the big black thoroughbred.’’

Puffing out her chest, she strutted away. With any luck, she’d find Carlos and the sheriff together, and regale both of them with her take on events.

Seeing Maddie and Marty in the crowd, I crossed the dinner site to join them.

“Where’d you lose your new best friend, Austin?’’ Maddie asked.

“You don’t want to know,’’ I said. “What’s the deal with this big crowd of riders? Is Johnny getting dinner ready early?’’

“No, despite the fact that a few of us are starving,’’ Maddie grumbled. “Trail boss called a meeting.’’

“I’m sure Doc would feel awful if he knew that him getting shot meant you’d be forced to wait on dinner, Maddie,’’ Marty said.

“Sisters, sisters.’’ I took up Marty’s usual refrain. “You can fight later. You’ll never believe what I just saw over at the Brambles’ RV.’’

Just then, the crowd started jostling and shushing, making a path for Jack Hollister. He climbed onto the open gate of a pickup truck and cleared his throat a couple of times.

“I’ll bet he’s going to announce that the Brambles scheduled Lawton’s funeral services,’’ Maddie whispered.

“He’s probably going to say he’s had enough,’’ I said under my breath. “I’ve already seen a few folks packing up to leave. Jack’s about to hand the boss’s reins back to David Reed.’’

Marty clutched at my hand. “What if he says Doc Abel died?’’

When Jack said Doc was still hanging on, applause rippled through the crowd. A chorus arose of thank Gods. As he announced Lawton’s funeral, a week from Wednesday, people stirred. Then Jack said something that surprised some.

“We’ll be riding out in the morning.’’ He looked to his right, where Sheriff Roberts stood. The lawman nodded, toothpick bobbing. “We’ve got well over a hundred horses and almost two hundred people on a schedule here. All of downtown Fort Pierce is geared up for a big parade tomorrow. The food booths and craft shows and tents are already up at the city’s waterfront. Everything’s ready for the Cracker Trail celebration.’’

Jack glanced to his left. When he saw Carlos, hurling visual daggers, he quickly looked away.

“Now, many of you have said you want to finish. And this is the sheriff’s decision to make.’’ Jack paused for effect. “He says we can go ahead, so, that’s what we’re gonna do. In the meantime, I know him and his deputies will appreciate any information about the shooting. Anybody who plans on leaving the ride early . . .’’

Jack gazed out at the crowd. A mom with two young kids nodded forcefully while a girly looking guy tugged at his hat and stared at his boots.

“That’s fine. You’ll just have to check in with the sheriff before you go. They’ll be doing interviews all night long in my trailer. I’ll apologize in advance for any of you who might lose some sleep tonight. But these questions are important to help find out who shot Doc.’’

Sheriff Roberts gave Jack a curt nod.

“Okay, then. Johnny will have dinner ready in an hour or so. And . . .’’ Jack’s voice petered out. He rubbed his chin, like he was thinking of what to say next.

“How about a prayer for Doc?’’ someone yelled.

“Good idea,’’ Jack said. “Let’s all bow our heads and ask the good Lord to guide those doctors and nurses in doing what’s best for Doc.’’

As we lowered our heads and closed our eyes, I wondered how many others would add my own silent plea: Let us make it safely to the end of the trail in Fort Pierce.

After Jack finished and climbed off the truck, I caught up with Carlos. A bad mood had settled on him like a fog.

“You don’t look happy,’’ I said.

“That Dundee County idiot is compromising his own investigation,’’ he hissed.

“Why don’t you say it a little louder?’’ I said. “I don’t think you’ve managed to piss off all of local law enforcement.’’

“Have you seen the crime scene, Mace? They didn’t even have the tape up until a half-hour ago.’’

I thought about the note, telling me I was on the right track. I didn’t suppose this was the time to remind Carlos that if anyone had listened to me about Lawton Bramble’s death being suspicious, that maybe we wouldn’t have a second crime scene.

“Well, they’re doing interviews. That’s a good sign, right?’’ I asked.

“Yeah, right,’’ he smirked. “I’m sure those bumbling Barney Fifes are crack interrogators.’’

Now I was starting to get irritated. I rose to the defense of my country cousins.

“You know, Mr. Miami Big Shot, just because they’re in a rural area doesn’t mean they’re idiots. I’m sure the Dundee County sheriff’s office solves plenty of crimes.’’

“Hah!’’ he said. “Cattle rustling? Or maybe crop stealing? We handled more serious crime in Miami before lunch than they do all year.’’

“I’m rolling my eyes, in case you want to know,’’ I said. “A high crime rate in your community is hardly something to brag about, Carlos. And I’d think you would know that better than anyone.’’

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wished I could take them back. He looked like I’d slapped him.

“I can’t believe you’d bring that up, Mace.’’ Pain laced his voice. “I told you in confidence about what happened to my wife.’’

“I’m so sorry, Carlos.’’ I put a hand on his arm; he shook it off. “I didn’t even know what I was saying. You made me mad by implying that all of us north of Lake Okeechobee are dumb rednecks.’’

“Well, if the shit-kicker’s boot fits—’’

I bit back an insulting retort. No sense in making things worse. I’d already taken our tiff as low as I could by bringing up the tragedy that had sent Carlos packing for Himmarshee in the first place.

“Listen, I don’t want to fight with you,’’ I said.

He looked at me, his eyes full of hurt and anger.

“Yet that’s all we seem to do whenever we see each other.’’ He took a deep breath. “So, what that says to me is maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore.’’

I felt like he’d punched me. Tears gathered behind my eyes. I blinked and swallowed and willed them not to fall.

“Fine,’’ I finally said, grateful when my voice didn’t crack. “If that’s what you want.’’

“I think it is.’’

Carlos reached over and gently brushed a bit of hair from my eyes. I could see him all too clearly as he turned and walked away.