Long Road Home(10)

Again, some nameless emotion flickered in her eyes. This time he read uncertainty. Excitement mounted within him.

She leveled a hard stare at him. “I said I haven’t seen her. Now if that is all?”

He had to get inside the house. “Thank you for your help, ma’am. Do you mind if I use your bathroom?”

She looked suspiciously at him, and for a moment, he thought she’d refuse. “Can I see your identification again?”

He held the badge with his photo and “name” up to her once more. After a long perusal, she pinched her lips together and opened the door wider. “Down the hall on the right.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. If the woman had any sense, she would have slammed the door in his face. How many cops would actually ask to use someone’s facilities while in search of a suspect? He smiled reassuringly at her and stepped inside, his gaze absorbing every detail as he slowly walked down the hall. Some of the rooms were open as he passed, and he took quick stock. If only he had time to search the whole house.

He stepped inside the large bathroom and shut the door behind him. After a moment he flushed the toilet then hurriedly opened the cabinets, rifling through the contents. He had no idea what he was looking for, perhaps something to tell him Jules had been there.

He turned on the faucet like he was washing up then transferred his attention to the garbage can. He carefully picked away the top layer. Toilet paper, a few tissues, a wad of hair. Yuck. An empty box of hair dye. No doubt the woman changed her hair color every week. A few cotton balls. Damn. Nothing out of the ordinary.

He stood up and turned the faucet off, disappointment tightening his features. He opened the door to go when his gaze flitted back over the box of hair color. Red.

Frowning, he stared at it for a long moment. The woman was blonde. A fresh blonde judging by the consistency in the color. No roots showing, and no hint of red.

A slow smile spread across his face. “I got you, Jules,” he murmured. Why the lady was going to such lengths to protect her he couldn’t understand, but then Jules was proving to be more of a challenge than he could have possibly imagined.

Leaving the bathroom, he walked back to the foyer where the woman waited by the door. She frowned at him again. “You aren’t going to hurt that young lady you’re looking for, are you?”

“No ma’am,” he said with utmost sincerity. “I care a great deal about her, and I’m going to find her before some rather unsavory people do.”

She studied him for a long moment then laid a hand on his arm. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but you seem like a sincere young man, and well, I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I’m a trusting old fool.”

“What is it?” he asked. “Did you see her?”

“I took her to the bus station this morning. Gave her some money for a ticket.” She sighed heavily then pinned him with a determined glare. “If you hurt that young lady, I’ll hunt you down and cut off your balls.”

Manuel sobered. “You don’t have to worry, ma’am. Jules is very special to me.”

The woman’s expression softened. “Is that her name? Jules?”

“Yeah. I gave it to her,” he said quietly, remembering the day he had named a two-year-old little girl with an unruly mop of curls and innocent blue eyes.

“You find her then and take good care of her.”

“I’ll do that, ma’am. Thank you for helping her.”

“I just wish I could have done more,” she said with a frown as Manuel backed out of the doorway. “Poor thing looked like death warmed over.”

Manuel’s stomach clenched as he waved to the woman and headed for his car. Jules was in no condition to be running all over the country. She needed to be in a hospital bed resting.

He drove immediately to the bus depot and headed inside. Doubt nagged at him as he surveyed the terminal. It was too obvious. And one thing he was fast learning about Jules was that she did nothing that was obvious.

Still, on the off chance that she’d slipped up, he questioned the person at the ticket counter. He struck out there and turned his attention to the passengers waiting for buses. Twenty minutes later, he knew his suspicions had been right.

The woman had driven her here, but had Jules actually left on the bus? More and more he was convinced that Jules wanted it to look like she had.

Manuel walked out of the bus station and continued down the street. He had a lot of ground to cover and not much time to do it in.

Jules breathed a huge sigh of relief as she climbed down from the cab of the eighteen-wheeler and waved goodbye. She teetered unsteadily on the high heels she was wearing and quickly adjusted her sunglasses.

“Sure I can’t do anything else for you, sweet thing?” the trucker asked with a broad smile.

“You’ve been more than kind,” she said through gritted teeth. She slammed the door and hobbled into the truck stop.

At least four sets of eyes followed her into the bathroom. She couldn’t get out of this clothing quick enough. The miniskirt gave new definition to the word mini. She stripped it off in disgust and dug out a pair of jeans from her bag. The sneakers Mrs. Jackson had given her were decidedly more comfortable than the three-inch heels she’d donned in Grand Junction. She pulled a T-shirt over her head then put on a zip-up sweat jacket with a hood.