dealt exclusively with artists from Santa Fe, Taos and the surrounding area.
“Is there anything we can do for you?” Cam McGinnis asked. Cam owned the native jewelry store on the other side of the shop.
The three of them emerged onto the showroom floor. Cam carried a bucket, and Preston had sponges. Diane saw Elena, handed her rag to Cam and raced to her daughter’s side.
“Oh, baby, how are you?” Immediately she was surrounded by her mother’s favorite perfume. “I was so worried about you. How did you get down to the police station?”
“The bus.”
Preston and Cam appeared behind her mother.
“How are you doing?” Cam asked, coming to her side. In his early fifties, he was a hippie, who came to Santa Fe in the early seventies and never left. He still bore some of his rebellious attitude toward the establishment and wore what was left of his hair pulled back in a ponytail. His salt-and-pepper beard was neatly trimmed. His designs had become famous, and he’d developed a wide following. He was also a major dealer of native jewelry created by local artisans.
Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he hugged her.
She stiffened. “I’m okay.” She didn’t sound convincing to her own ears. When he released her, she stepped back.
Preston caught her gaze. “Are you sure?” He was the polar opposite of Cam. Preston Jones was tall, with a hundred-dollar haircut and clothes of the Hollywood elite, silk shirts and designer pants. She didn’t believe for a moment that he would help scrub this room. He’d probably give the sponge to her mother or Cam and then supervise.
“I can’t believe what happened here.” Cam looked around the room. “When I arrived this morning, the last of the cops were driving off. No one would tell me anything until your mom got here.” Shaking his head, he asked, “Why would anyone want to harm Joyce?”
Elena looked at her mother. They needed to talk.
“Guys, Mom and I need a few minutes,” Elena informed them.
The men glanced at Diane and she nodded.
Cam rested his hand on Elena’s arm. “If there’s anything that I can do, you let me know.”
She appreciated Cam. He’d been a rock when her father died. Those first few days after she arrived home from New York City had been hectic, but if something needed to be done, Cam had stepped up and helped until Adrian had arrived from Seattle.
Preston nodded. “Those are my sentiments, too. If you need anything, call.”
After the men left, Diane turned back to her daughter. “How are you?”
Elena sat down in the old rocker they’d recently acquired. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d go get my keys and purse from the cops. Detective Stillwater was still there.”
Diane sat on the coffee table next to the rocker. “And—”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about Joyce’s police record?”
Diane looked down at her hands. “It wasn’t my secret.”
“You didn’t think I needed to know?”
“At the time, no.” When Diane looked up again, she grabbed Elena’s hand. “Do you remember when your father worked in the prison ministry?”
“Vaguely.”
“It was something he had a passion for. He met Joyce while she was still incarcerated for helping her ex-husband to pass counterfeit twenties. Apparently her ex-husband convinced her to pass some of the funny money.”
“She knew that money wasn’t real?”
“Yes. When Joyce came up for probation, your dad was contacted and asked if he would sponsor her.”
“So he agreed?”
“Yes. He believed Joyce had turned her life around and wanted to give her a new start. Your father trusted her. His trust was rewarded. Besides, your father’s faith in her led her back to church.”
Elena wasn’t surprised by the news. Phillip Jackson had been a mighty man of God with a heart that encompassed all around him. He’d been a tall man, with a full head of black hair. His laugh had been a thing of pure joy, and his smile had eased her heart more than once. When the Jacksons had first adopted her, she remembered how nervous she was around Phillip, worried that his temper would flare out of control. That had been her experience with her birth father. He would rage, shout and strike out. If he was mad, everyone in the family knew to hide.
Elena remembered the first time she’d disobeyed Phillip. She’d been in the antique store and spilled her purple grape soda on her father’s desk. She knew the rule about not bringing drinks into the office. When Phillip had discovered it, he’d been livid. He’d yelled and approached her. She covered her head with her hands expecting a blow. When nothing happened, she peeked through her fingers. Her father’s stricken expression shocked her. He squatted before her and waited.
It took several minutes, but she lowered her hands. He then said the most amazing thing. “I’m sorry, Elena.” She hadn’t believed her ears.
“I was wrong to yell at you. Please forgive me.”
Elena wasn’t sure she heard right. “Huh?”
“I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”
It was the first time in her life anyone had asked for her forgiveness. But he didn’t move and continued to look at her.
“Yes. I forgive you.”
He nodded. “I give you my word, Elena, that I will never raise my hand to you. That doesn’t mean that when you do wrong you won’t be punished. But you will never have to fear me.”
Her father had been true to his word. He’d loved her and guided her through her teens. She knew her father would forgive her, but there were consequences for doing wrong. Slowly over the years, she learned to trust, and God had worked through Phillip to show her what a true father would do for his child.
Phillip had been that way with all the people around him. “Why didn’t you tell me about Joyce?”
“It happened while you were away at school. Besides, your father felt if Joyce wanted to share her past with you, she would’ve.”
Oddly, the information made Elena feel worse. Why hadn’t her father trusted her with that information?
“I guess I better start on the carpet.” Diane stood and walked back to the spot where Joyce’s body had been.
Elena came to her side. “I agree with the guys. Let a professional clean it.”
After a moment’s pause, Diane nodded her head. “Okay.”
“I’ll go call our regular guy.” She started toward the office.
“Elena—”
