a few minutes, little was said other than a request for something to be passed. It wasn’t until Franklin was finishing his second biscuit that it occurred to him the food tasted good.
“Sonora, this food is very good,” Franklin said. “Who taught you to cook like this?”
“Betty Crocker.”
Adam grinned.
Franklin’s eyebrow arched.
“The Betty Crocker?”
“The one and only,” Sonora added.
Adam snagged another biscuit, slathered it with butter and jelly, then toasted Sonora with it.
“Then…my compliments to the cook,” he said.
But Franklin wasn’t satisfied.
“You learned to cook like this from a book?”
Sonora shrugged.
“Pretty much. I got tired of eating out all the time, bought myself an old Betty Crocker cookbook from a library sale when I was…oh…probably eighteen or nineteen. After that, it was largely a case of trial and error. I did get a few pointers from an elderly woman who was my neighbor at the time.”
Franklin lifted his head and then stared off into the distance. Sonora could tell that he was troubled, but she didn’t understand.
“What’s wrong? Are you feeling bad again? Maybe you should go lie down for a—”
“I’m sick, but not like you mean. I am sick at heart that you have marked every step in your life alone.”
Sonora got up and put her arms around her father’s neck and hugged him.
“You worry too much,” she said. “I’m fine. I’m strong. And if you’re feeling all that good, you can do dishes.”
Franklin looked startled, then he laughed and pointed at Adam.
“Two Eagles will do the dishes.”
Adam grinned. “It would be my pleasure. However, I hope you know that there’s a house rule about the dishwasher getting to take home the leftovers.”
Sonora frowned.
“There’s nothing left but biscuits.”
“Exactly,” Adam said, and then grabbed the bread plate and headed for the cabinet.
“We will be outside on the back porch for a while,” Franklin said. “When you’ve finished, please join us.”
“Hmmpf? Oh…shurr,” Adam mumbled.
Sonora wasn’t sure, but she thought he’d just stuffed another biscuit in his mouth, then Franklin took her hand and led her outside.
“Let’s sit here,” he said, and pointed to a couple of wicker chairs at the north end of the porch.
They sat. Franklin took a deep breath, folded his hands in his lap and then stared straight into Sonora’s eyes.
“Now we ask questions of each other, and the answers must be honest.”
Before they could start, Sonora heard the familiar ring of her cell phone that she’d left on the cabinet. At the same time, Adam called out.
“Sonora, your phone is ringing.”
“The only person it could be is my boss,” Sonora said. “I’d better get it.”
Adam met her at the door and handed it to her as she came inside.
“Thanks,” she said, glanced at the caller ID, then smiled. “I was right. It’s my boss. This won’t take a minute, okay?”
Franklin nodded, and then leaned back in the chair as Sonora answered.
“Hello.”
Gerald Mynton breathed a huge sigh of relief.
“Thank God,” he muttered. “You’ve been harder to find than the Loch Ness monster.”
Sonora frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Mynton sighed. There was no easy way to say this. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
Sonora stilled. “How bad?”
“Your friend Buddy Allen is dead. We think Garcia got to him, trying to find you.”
Sonora moaned. She didn’t know it, but her face had gone white as a sheet.
“What happened to him?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter how. I don’t know what this means, but before he died, Buddy said to tell you that ‘he didn’t tell’.”
Sonora choked on a sob. Buddy the joker, the life of the party who could never shut up, yet he’d wanted her to know that he didn’t tell Garcia anything about how she’d left town.
She took a deep breath and then made herself calm when all she wanted to do was start screaming. She compromised by shouting. “I asked you a question and I need an answer. What did Garcia do to him?”
Startled by her outburst, Franklin started to get up and go to her, but Adam beat him to it. Adam walked up behind her and put an arm around her waist, just to let her know she wasn’t alone. To his surprise, her legs all but gave way.
“Easy, girl,” Adam said softly. “We’re here for you.”
Sonora’s knuckles were white from the grip she had on the phone and she was struggling to keep focused as she repeated herself one last time. “Please, boss. I have to know.”
Mynton was sick to his stomach to have to be the one to tell her. “He beat him, honey…bad. He beat him real bad.”
She bent over and grabbed her stomach, certain that her breakfast was about to come up.
“Oh, God, oh, God. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, damn it. It’s Miguel Garcia’s fault,” Mynton said. “And just so you know, he’s on your trail.”
Sonora straightened up with a jerk and cast a frantic glance at her father, and then at Adam. What evil had she brought to this beautiful place?
“How? How could he know where I am?” Sonora asked. “Nobody knew. Buddy sure as hell didn’t. Even I didn’t know where I was going and I’ll bet my life I didn’t leave a trail.”
“Well, that’s just it. You are betting your life and I don’t like it. I want you to come in. We’ll put you in protective custody and—”
“No. I will not hide from the bastard. Besides, how do you know he’s following me?”
“He was last
