Beneath A Texas Sky (Harlequin Super Romance) Read online

  “I assume you’ve got information for me on Dana Turner.”

  “Yeah, Jace, there’s plenty on the woman. Her legal name is Dana Howard Turner. Female Caucasian, twenty-seven, last known residence Fielding Women’s Prison, San Bernardino, California, on a murder conviction. After she’d served seven months, the case was reopened and the judge vacated his verdict. She went free at the end of April.”

  Jace had to pull over to the side of the road.

  “Jace? Did you get all that?”

  “I did,” he murmured, still trying to assimilate the fact that she’d spent seven months behind bars. The time frame made it impossible for her to have had any contact with the killers during their crime spree.

  What about before and after, Riley? Questions bombarded him from all directions. Were the killers originally from California? Was one of them in love with Dana? Had they visited her at the prison?

  Jace’s chest tightened. Either Dana was guilty as sin and had been released on a technicality, or she was a total innocent, sent to prison by mistake.

  Until he knew the truth, he wouldn’t breathe freely.

  And if it’s the wrong truth, Riley?

  He refused to think about that yet.

  Dear Reader,

  I’ve heard people say, “There aren’t any mountains in Texas!” Well…I’m here to tell you that statement couldn’t be further from the truth. The Rocky Mountains definitely run through the western part of Texas. In fact, the Davis Mountains of the Lone Star State have been nicknamed “The Texas Alps.”

  On top of Mt. Locke at 6800 feet where the air is dry and clear sits the McDonald Observatory owned by the University of Texas at Austin. This area is renowned for having one of the darkest skies in North America and is therefore perfect for viewing the heavens. I’ve modeled my own fictitious setting after this one.

  My hero, Captain Jace Riley of the Texas Rangers, is truly a hero. Rangers have a heritage that can be traced to the earliest days of Anglo settlement in Texas. They’ve often been compared to four other world-famous law-enforcement agencies: the FBI, Scotland Yard, Interpol and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

  Prior to the Civil War, there was a real Texas Ranger with the first name Jace and another whose last name was Riley. I liked both names so much, I put them together to create my hero. Former Captain Bob Crowder has described the Rangers this way: “A Ranger is an officer who is able to handle any given situation without definite instructions from his commanding officer or higher authority. This ability must be proven before a man becomes a Ranger.” I think you’ll agree that Jace Riley is a perfect example of that.

  I hope you’ll enjoy Jace’s story—and his romance with Dana Turner, first introduced in My Private Detective.

  Rebecca Winters

  P.S. If you have access to the Internet, please check out my Web site at http://www.rebeccawinters-author.com

  Beneath a Texas Sky

  Rebecca Winters

  To Ann, an invaluable resource and a great friend. I couldn’t have done it without you!

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  AS CAPTAIN JACE RILEY of the Texas Rangers loaded up his van, sweating under a hot July sun, he heard someone call to him.

  “Hey—you there!”

  Jace turned around in time to see a man, about thirty years old, come out of the service station in Fort Davis.

  The brown-haired stranger rushed toward Jace’s brown, heavy-duty van. Jace didn’t think the man had a weapon in the overnight bag he carried, but you never knew for sure.

  “I overheard you tell the mechanic you were on your way to Cloud Rim,” the stranger said.

  “It’s my last stop.”

  It had been six months since two men had robbed an armored car in Austin of a million dollars before gunning down three people. One of their victims was Jace’s longtime friend and mentor, retired Ranger Gibb Barton. Jace was desperate to track the killers down. But so far none of his travels in the mountains of West Texas had turned up evidence of the two killers or their stolen plane. The body of the original pilot had been dumped over the Davis Mountains and the killers had vanished.

  In the days after Barton’s death the whole department mourned him, but it was Jace who’d felt the loss on a personal as well as professional level. His efforts to track the killers while doing his regular work had been exhausting.

  Frustrated and disappointed, he’d become so miserable even his colleagues had begun to avoid him. After several months of this, his superior called him in to the Austin office for a chat.

  “You know something, Riley?” Tom Haster eyed him shrewdly. “You’re one of the best, but you’ve worn yourself too thin. It’s everyone’s considered opinion those murderers made it to Mexico.”

  “My instincts tell me something different,” Jace replied.

  “We’re all aware of that.” Tom leaned back in his swivel chair. “So what do you want?”

  Jace had understood the question. If he didn’t get his act together, his job was on the line.

  “The time to go after them.”

  “I was afraid you were going to say that.” They’d stared at each other for a full minute. “All right—I’m going to grant your wish. You’re not the only one who cared about Gibb.”

  Thank God. “Is that effective immediately?”

  “Yes. I’ll put you officially in charge of this case for two months. If you haven’t turned up anything by then, I want you to let it go and come back to us. I assume you’ve already worked out a plan?”

  Jace nodded. “If you could make arrangements with Instant Parcel Service, I could work as a summer relief driver and search the Davis Mountains for evidence. The job with IPS would be a good cover and give me the chance to explore the area. And I could hook up with Pat Hardy. He was a good friend of Gibb’s, and now that he’s retired from the Rangers, he’s the sheriff in Alpine. He could be my backup man. With your permission I’d like to hand-pick some officers and P.I.’s funded by our department here to work behind the scenes with me and Pat.

  “He’ll have his own staff of officers, of course, but we’re going to need a lot more help than that when I’ve picked up their trail.”

  “You’ve got anything you want.”

  “You’re a good man, Tom.”

  “Bring the bastards in and I’ll agree with you.”

  That conversation had taken place over six weeks ago. As Jace finished loading the van, he realized he had less than two weeks on the case before he had to go back to his normal duties. Eleven days to solve what his colleagues had been saying was an insoluble case.

  His tension rising, he shut the van doors.

  “Hey, I guess you didn’t hear me. I need a ride.”

  Jace had barely noticed the clean-cut stranger in the button-down shirt who’d followed him to the driver’s side of the van.

  “I’m on my way up to Cloud Rim to see a woman. You know how it is.” He flashed Jace an ingratiating smile, but Jace didn’t buy it. In fact he couldn’t relate to the man’s problem. Jace had buried his wife seven years ago.

  Cassie had been the sunshine in his life. When he’d had a bad day, her quiet loving helped chase the demons a
way.

  After her death from ovarian cancer, there didn’t seem to be much point in going home anymore. Work and more work filled the hours and pretty soon it became his whole life.

  “The clutch on my car wore out.” The guy pointed to a silver Volkswagen Jetta parked at the service entrance. “The mechanic won’t be able to replace it until tomorrow. I have to get up there today. What’s it worth to you?”

  There was always a chance that giving this stranger a lift to a small town where a stranger couldn’t help but be noticed might lead to information on the killers. If so, it was worth more than money could buy.

  Jace was open to anything that could shed light on the case, even this arrogant preppy type who appeared to have the hots for some woman. He reminded Jace of guys who never outgrew their college fraternity. People like him irritated the hell out of Jace. If it was a con, it was a good one.

  The department didn’t have a description of the killers. The driver of the armored car, who’d been badly wounded, said the men had been wearing ski masks and the older of the two gave all the orders. He thought they could be anywhere from twenty to forty years old. That was all he could manage to tell the paramedics before he died.

  “You can ride with me. Hop in.”

  He unlocked the van and climbed behind the wheel where he released the master lock so the stranger could get in the other side, and then they were off.

  Jace found himself hoping that this guy was one of the killers. Jace wanted evidence so badly, he’d gotten to a place where he fantasized about their capture with every male stranger he met.

  Anxious to find out more about the guy, Jace decided to concentrate on his passenger and take him to Cloud Rim first, then finish his deliveries.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Tony Roberts.”

  Which might or might not be his real name. Jace could check the guy’s car registration later to find out the truth.

  “What’s yours?”

  “Jace.”

  At the intersection he turned onto Highway 118. They passed a sign that read Exit to Cloud Rim in 10 Miles.

  “Short for—”

  “Just Jace.”

  It had been the first name of one of his great-great-grandfathers who’d been a Ranger before the Civil War. The family theorized its origin might be a distortion of the initials J.C.

  “Must have been a rough childhood.”

  The guy’s condescension was getting old fast. “Who’s the woman you have to see in Cloud Rim? Maybe I’ve heard of her.” In a town with a population of less than eight hundred, it was possible.

  Since Monday Jace had taken over as the relief driver of the route while IPS’s regular driver went on vacation. Today was Thursday. In that short amount of time, he’d not only made a ton of deliveries, he’d amassed an amazing amount of information about the area. But until Tony had asked for a ride, he hadn’t stumbled across anything or one who made him suspicious.

  “Dana Turner.”

  Jace nodded. “She lives in a trailer on the Mason property.”

  The guy’s head whipped around. “You’ve met her?”

  Why did Jace get the impression his passenger didn’t like the idea?

  “No, but I’ve left several packages for her at the ranch house. In fact, I have another delivery for her on the truck.”

  “I thought this was my unlucky day. Looks like I was wrong. Meeting up with you has solved the big problem of tracking her down.”

  It didn’t sound as though the woman was expecting him. If she was the guy’s wife, ex-wife or girlfriend, maybe she didn’t want to be found. Maybe she was married to someone else. Maybe she was on the run. By now Jace’s curiosity was fully aroused.

  “Your first visit to Texas?”

  “Why do you ask?” the other man asked aggressively.

  So…press the right buttons and the guy had a short fuse. Paranoia dogged most angry people with something to hide. “Just making conversation.”

  Jace upped the volume for KALP, locally known as the Voice of No Choice, broadcast out of Alpine where he rented a furnished apartment.

  His passenger shifted in the seat. “Is that all you can get out of that thing around here?”

  “Afraid so.”

  The other guy grunted. “This is one godforsaken place.”

  Jace figured he’d seen the last of his passenger’s fatuous smile. So far the jerk hadn’t said thanks or offered money for gas. Jace hadn’t liked the guy right off. The reasons kept accumulating.

  The Davis Mountains were green and rugged. Every time Jace drove up and down over the passes of his route, he marveled at the scenic views. One of his favorite spots was the breathtaking vista at the crest of the summit just before the drop into Fort Davis.

  His passenger had to be totally eaten up with whatever was driving him not to be impressed with such magnificent scenery.

  They passed the occasional suburban and SUV as the van continued to climb to the six-thousand-six-hundred-foot level. At this altitude, scattered clumps of ponderosa and piñon pine, mixed with oak and juniper trees dotting the rugged terrain, stood out in dark relief against the leaf-green grass.

  Around one of the many curves of the blacktop two-lane highway he spied some vultures circling a jackrabbit that lay dead at the side of the road. He figured they were the same pair that took advantage of the roadkill yesterday.

  All of creation had a purpose. That was what Jace had been taught from childhood. But life had dealt him enough blows; he didn’t know what he believed anymore. The only thing that felt good was the thought of catching up with Gibb Barton’s killers.

  If his passenger turned out to have anything to do with the case, he was going to pay…

  “DANA? It’s Glen Mason. I’ve been waiting for you to come home. Open up. I’ve got something you need.”

  “Just a minute!”

  Dana Turner had heard the knock on the trailer door, but didn’t answer at first. Since a month ago when she’d started renting from his grandfather, Ralph Mason, Glen had been making a nuisance of himself. The pathetic twenty-three-year-old had developed a crush on her.

  Clutching her cell phone tighter, she said, “Dad? Someone’s at the door. I have to go, but I’ll call you back.”

  “Let me know when you get those pictures I sent you.”

  “I’m dying to see them. Don’t worry, I’ll phone you the minute they come. I love you, Dad.”

  “Me too, honey. Talk to you later.”

  Clicking off, she walked to the front of the trailer from the tiny kitchen where she’d been fixing lunch. When she unlocked the door, she noticed Glen was all spruced up in a western shirt and cowboy boots. His cologne was too much.

  His blond hair was parted in the center and fell to his shoulders. She assumed he wore the small goatee to offset his baby face in an effort to appear older. He had a thin body that was only an inch taller than her five-foot-eight frame.

  All in all she found him completely repulsive. To make things worse, his hazel eyes always looked at her with an expectant expression. No matter how many hints she’d thrown to make him stay away, he kept coming over on one pretext or another. This time he held a brown sack in his hand.

  “What is it, Glen?”

  “Grandad said you called about that special light that went out over the sink. As soon as I heard, I drove the pickup into town and got a replacement. If you want, I’ll put it in now.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I can do it myself.” She took the sack from him. “I’ll pay for the part when I mail him my next month’s rent.”

  There was no way she was going to drop the check off and risk running into Glen. Renting the trailer had seemed such a perfect solution in the beginning. How was she to know it came with a price? Glen was four years younger than she was. He reminded her of a lonely, needy little kid, yet he was grown up enough to be loathsome.

  “Fine.” He rocked back on his heels. “Is there anything else I can do f
or you?”

  “Not a thing.”

  His hands went to the pockets of his jeans. “Grandad told me to take good care of you.”

  “That’s very kind of him, but I’m not anyone’s concern.” She started to shut the door.

  “He told me to ask you over for dinner tonight. If you’re not busy, that is,” he added.

  Dana was convinced Glen had made that up. “I’m afraid I am. Goodbye,” she said pointedly.

  Two ruddy patches broke out on his cheeks before he wheeled away.

  She closed and locked the door.

  Dana liked his kind eighty-eight-year-old grandfather. He had macular degeneration of the eyes and could barely get around the front room of his house with his walker.

  If Glen wasn’t living with him, she’d drop over once in a while to see how he was doing. But his grandson’s obsession prevented her from doing anything he could misconstrue as interest on her part.

  After putting the sack down on the kitchen counter, she poured herself a glass of milk from the fridge, then grabbed her tuna fish sandwich and sat at the table to eat.

  The living room of the trailer wasn’t much bigger than her prison cell had been, but since she’d been acquitted and freed, she felt as if she’d entered paradise.

  Before her incarceration, she’d always pictured the Bible’s version of that resting place beyond mortality.

  After the judge ordered the handcuffs removed and told her she was a free woman, she realized paradise could be anywhere on earth, even inside this tiny space she called home. As long as she was free to be alone, free to breathe pure mountain air that didn’t smell of disinfectant or urine, free to listen to the crickets instead of the clank of prison doors closing or other women being sick in the night it was paradise to her.

  Free to fix herself something to eat any time she wanted, free to lie on soft sheets, free to sleep in or stay up late. Free to make a phone call in the middle of the night, free to lock her own door against the outside world, free to come and go at will, free to choose how to fill each minute, free to make her own associations.