Page 14 of Deadly Evidence
In the fences and old wells and the massive Triple R cross pole suspended over the road leading from the highway to the ranch buildings.
All her life she’d felt the fierce pride of belonging to this land and the ghosts of her tough, indomitable ancestors.
Only once had she thought of leaving it forever—during those brief, glorious months of first love with Lacey’s father—but after recovering from her broken heart, she realized how close she’d come to making a grave mistake.
She’d been born here and she would die here, because this was where she belonged.
Mia twisted her long, black hair up into a knot on top of her head to let the back of her neck cool.
The ancient window air conditioner rattled and hummed, leaving the air inside the old house almost bearable—but only if she sat a few inches away.
Walking two dusty blocks up to the air-conditioned cantina for a Coke now and then had been her only respite.
“At least it’s cooler at night,” she grumbled, pulling her damp shirt away from her skin. “I think you need to move to Alaska.”
“Wait until summer,” her newfound great-aunt Dominga said in heavily accented English, a smile creasing her broad face. “Then, it is hot. I don’t go outside until evening.”
“I can’t evenimaginesummer here.”
Mia had spent the past few years wondering about the relatives she’d never seen, and looking forward to visiting the town where her late mother had been born.
She’d imagined a quaint, folksy place. Perhaps even something artsy, filled with small galleries and pretty little restaurants capitalizing on a south-of-the-border motif.
Reality had hit the moment she stepped off the bus.No wonder my mother left and never looked back.
“Maybe you’ll come to New York to visit me someday?”
Dominga laughed. “El Paso is too big, and that is as far as I go. New York would be like going to the moon.”
Mia felt a wave of sympathy for her.
The old woman seemed oblivious to the oppressive heat, the clutter around her, and the dreary scenery just outside her windows.
How sad was it to live out a whole life here, so far from everything that mattered?
Except for Dominga, the only interesting thing Mia had seen in three days was the cute guy at the cantina.
After getting off the bus, she’d gone inside to gather her waning courage before trying to find her relatives. She’d been hot and tired and horrified at this dusty little town with its handful of shabby businesses.
She’d barely said a word to that guy, and he’d taken off like a scared bunny. How pathetic was that? Not that she had anyreal interest in flirting with some local who couldn’t find the East Coast on a map.
“So, you got all your things together?” Dominga hoisted her bulk out of her tattered recliner and slowly moved through the small house.
She stopped by an end table. “Ah—the photo album. You’ll want this to show your grandfather Vicente,sí?I hope he will be pleased to meet you.”
She lifted it with both hands and clutched it to her bosom, then held it out. “I am so proud of you, Mia.” Her eyes shimmered with emotion. “And my niece—I know she must have been proud, too.”
They looked at each other, both aware that telling Paulina anything about this visit would have been a waste of time. She’d wanted nothing to do with her father and other relatives who’d once shunned her.
“She died a very bitter woman,” Mia said quietly. “My father left her before I was born, and she struggled financially all her life.”
“That poor, dear soul.”
“This past winter, when her cancer spread, I tried to get her to talk about her past. She refused. If I hadn’t found some boxes of old papers hidden under her bed, I wouldn’t have known any relatives existed.”
Dominga nodded, her eyes sad and distant. At the sound of a truck pulling to a stop outside, she crossed the room and pulled aside a curtain to look out the window. “Gilberto is here to take you to the ranch,” she said heavily.
“You’re sure he doesn’t mind taking me all that way?”
