Read Online Reluctant Runaway by Jill Elizabeth Nelson - Free Book Online

smelled like enchiladas. Desi’s mouth watered.
    “I can’t believe they made you come down to the station to answer questions when you were babysitting Adam.” Max stared at her sister seated across from her at the table.
    Jo lifted one shoulder. “He was the pet of the break room while I spoke with the officers. They didn’t get much out of me, because there wasn’t much to get. Frankly, I went down there hopin’ for answers. I came away feelin’ like they don’t know much more than I do.”
    The woman’s lined face was life-worn, her auburn hair streaked with gray and not bouncy like her sister’s. She wore a beaded headband and a turquoise squash blossom necklace and looked good in them, but not natural born. She’d been married to a full-blooded Zuni. Divorced now. So where was little Adam’s grandpa now that crisis had struck? Probably better out of the picture from what Max had told her about Pete Cheama.
    Jo glanced toward the clock over the sink. “Brent has a part-time job as a hotel desk clerk, but he’ll be here soon to get Adam. I’ve asked him to stay for supper. You’ll need to hear from both of us to give you a solid start.” She smiled at Desi, hope a dim spark in her eyes. “When I heard you were comin’ with Max, I said to myself, ‘Any woman who can handle a terrorist should have no trouble with the hairy unwashed down at that bar on old Route 66.’ ”
    She headed for the stack of corn tortillas on the counter. “That ringleader, Snake Bonney had somethin’ to do with Karen’s disappearance. He hated losin’ his hold on her.”
    What was the woman talking about? Max and she should act like private detectives? Desi looked at her friend.
    Max gave an elaborate shrug. “Um, sis, I—”
    “We can’t wait for the city cops, the Native police, and the feds to settle their turf wars.” She formed enchiladas and plopped them into a glass casserole dish. “They think Karen ran away, that she’s guilty and hidin’. I know better. My Inner Witness is screamin’ that Karen’s in trouble and needs help. Now!”
    Inner witness? Desi bounced the baby and studied Jo’s back. Was that some new term for mother’s intuition?
    Jo whirled, wiping her hands on a dishrag. She pinned Max with a look. “You were always the smart one in the family. If you can’t figure this out, I don’t know … ” She turned away and gripped the edge of the counter.
    Max put her arms around her sister. “I believe Karen’s innocent, too. And you know I’d do anything to help her, but—”
    “Oh, thank you!” Jo collapsed on Max’s shoulder, weeping.
    The baby stiffened and howled. Desi stood up, bouncing the child. She met Max’s eyes.
Bewildered and frustrated? Yeah, me, too
.
    Desi left the room, baby still squealing. Max needed space to deal with her sister. Firmly. They were
not
getting involved in the investigation.
    Any woman who can handle a terrorist? She could do without that kind of notoriety. People had the wrong idea if they thought a desperate act of self-preservation meant she flew into town, minus airplane, dressed in a blue bodysuit with a red S on the chest.
    “Sh-sh-sh.” Desi paced the living room, patting Adam’s back.
    A real superwoman would be able to get a hysterical infant to stop crying.
    “He’s colicky.”
    Desi turned at the male voice.
    A young man stood on the braided rug inside the front door. Lean and on the tall side with light brown hair, longish and a bit shaggy. Stealthy sort—walked in without a sound. Or maybe not. Hard to hear anything with a baby wailing in your ear.
    The man smiled. “Desiree Jacobs. It’s been a while. Mama Jo said you were coming with Aunt Max. How was your flight?” He brushed a strand of hair away from blue eyes.
    Now the family resemblance became clear. “Brent Webb! You were a gangly teenager when you visited Boston that time. You’ve grown into a—”
    “Married man with a baby. Let me take him.”
    “Gladly.” Desi