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After she hung up, Emma called information for motels in St. George and booked a room at the Pioneer Lodge in her real name.
Once the room was arranged, she paced until it was time to call Rosa again.
“Mommy, I’m ready to get out,” Max shouted.
“In a minute,” she said.
Evidently he wasn’t completely bored because he went back to playing. She dialed Rosa’s number. But she wasn’t encouraged by what she heard. Rosa was crying. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“He wouldn’t tell me what happened to Juanita. He says he doesn’t know.”
“Do you believe him?”
“No!” The words turned into a wail.
“Did you tell him I’m on my way to St. George?”
Rosa was crying so hard she didn’t answer.
“Rosa? Did you tell him?”
“Sí,” she said on a sniffle.
Emma was tempted to bite her nails but purposely kept them away from her mouth. “Do you think he believed you?”
More tears.
“Rosa, I’m sorry about Juanita, so sorry, but I have to know if Manuel is going to be here in Ely looking for me.”
“I hate him,” she said. “I hate that evil man!”
“Rosa, please.”
“Mom?” Max called again.
“I’ll be with you in a minute, honey!”
This time when Rosa spoke, her voice was so low Emma could hardly hear her. “I think so.”
Emma sagged onto the bed. Rosa thought so. They couldn’t be sure, of course, but…there was a chance. “Rosa?”
More sniffling.
“Rosa, listen to me. Don’t give up hope, okay?” She gazed down at the list. “Juanita gave me something. Something we might be able to use against Manuel.”
“What is it?”
“I think it might be proof that he’s smuggling drugs into the United States from Mexico.”
There was a lengthy pause. Rosa sounded significantly more dry-eyed when she spoke again. “Does he know you have it?”
“Not yet.”
“You say it came from Juanita? How?” she asked.
Emma ran a nervous hand through her hair. “Maybe she stumbled on to it. Or knew what she was looking for. Bottom line, it’s all we have. And I’m willing to use it.”
Rosa started to cry again. “It won’t work. Manuel, he fears nothing.”
Emma heard Preston outside, asking a maid for extra towels. It hadn’t taken him as long to drop off the van as she’d expected.
“I’ll have to call you later.”
Evidently, Max had decided to get himself out of the bath. He streaked, dripping wet, across the room to meet Preston at the door. “Can we swim now?”
“It’s too early,” Preston said. Then, seeing Emma hang up the phone, he arched a questioning eyebrow. “Tell me that was your family and they’re on their way to get you.”
“No.” Emma shoved the list of names and numbers back into her purse and tried to ignore his eagerness to be rid of them. “Max, get back in the water. I need to wash your hair.”
Preston booted up his computer. “Then who was it?”
“Juanita’s sister.”
“Who’s Juanita?”
“My nanny, silly.” Max had hesitated in front of the television, but now he returned to the conversation. “Remember?”
Preston barely acknowledged him. If Emma hadn’t been intent on other things, her heart would have gone out to her son. He was trying so hard to win Preston over. But she couldn’t do anything to protect Max against such subtle hurts. Not when she was fighting a much bigger battle.
Briefly she considered telling Preston about Juanita’s disappearance, and the document she had in her possession. She wanted to talk to someone about the best possible way to approach the situation. If she turned that list over to police, Manuel might go to jail and she wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore. Which made doing so very tempting.
But as she took Max into the bathroom to finish his bath, she realized that even if the list meant everything she thought it might—and she had no guarantees—investigations didn’t happen overnight. Manuel could be free for months, maybe even years, before spending any real time behind bars. And once she gave up those names and numbers, she’d have nothing to use as leverage to get him to back off, to leave her and Max alone or let Juanita go.
There was also his family to think about. Manuel wasn’t involved in the business alone. The people on the list might draw his brothers and uncles, maybe even a few cousins, into the investigation. While Emma wouldn’t be sorry to see the whole family in prison, she knew the police would never catch them all. Implicating Manuel would be asking for enough trouble. If her actions brought about the arrest of anyone else in the family, it wouldn’t matter where she was hiding.
EMMA GLANCED over at Preston, who sat at the table by the window working on his computer, and tried to come up with a good way to ask him to watch Max for an hour or so. She’d waited as long as she could, to give Manuel time to leave town—if he was going to—but she needed a new syringe in about an hour. And just in case Manuel hadn’t fallen for her little trick, she was terrified to be seen around Ely, especially with Max in tow.
“What’s on your mind?” Preston said without looking up. Obviously he’d felt her interest because she hadn’t even said anything yet.
“I—I need to go out for a few minutes.”
Finally he turned away from his screen. “Why?”
“Look at us,” she said, gesturing at herself.
At her invitation Preston studied her bare legs. But it wasn’t the cursory, matter-of-fact assessment she’d been expecting. It revealed the same sexual awareness she’d felt from him when he’d watched her in the Jacuzzi last night.
Heat suffused her cheeks the moment their eyes met and she couldn’t help remembering his hands on her bare skin.
“We have no clothes,” she said, feeling she should redirect the conversation, although Preston had barely spoken.
“Considering the situation, I think you’d better stay put.” He turned back to his work, as though he hadn’t noticed the sudden surge of energy between them. “Why not wait until we reach Salt Lake to worry about clothes?”
She suspected he wasn’t just concerned about Manuel. He liked seeing her in her swimsuit.
Cursing her elevated heart rate, Emma wondered why this man was having such a strong effect on her. Last night had built her trust. But relief, gratitude, even trust, shouldn’t make her mouth go dry whenever she recognized that primitive hunger in his eyes.
