He dropped his hand. “I don’t have any others, Sophia. I don’t know how Gus could say what I carry in my wallet, anyway. It’s not something I leave lying around.”
She wasn’t sure how Gus knew, but she had to see if Leonard was right. “I—I need to look through it myself. Please.”
Surprisingly, he passed it to her.
She went through every compartment, even searched for secret nooks and crannies but found nothing. Her stepfather had some cash, a few receipts, several credit cards—what most men carried in their billfolds. But the only picture she could find was the one he’d already shown her.
Sophia would’ve been relieved, except there had to be some reason Leonard had said what he did. Had there been a picture that had since been removed? Or was Leonard trying to stir up trouble between her and her mother, between her and her stepfather, and between her and the people who’d been in her corner since the scandal involving Rosita broke?
“What’s going on?” Gary asked as she returned his wallet.
She bent over so the blood would reach her head.
“Sophia?”
“Like I told you,” she mumbled, staring at the floor, “Gus claims he’s seen a picture of me in your wallet.”
“It was probably this one—”
She didn’t look up. She didn’t want to see his expression when she told him why she was so upset. “No, in this photo I’m naked.”
“What? That doesn’t make sense.”
It would to anyone who understood his true nature. But his wife had protected him from exposure, had stood by him at the expense of her relationship with her daughter. How—and why—was Leonard coming up with this all of a sudden?
Gary shoved his billfold back in his pocket. “When did Gus tell you this?”
“He didn’t tell me. He told Leonard Taylor at the Firelight last night.”
“Wait—that can’t be true. Maybe Gus hangs out at the bar, but he wasn’t there last night. He’s in Flagstaff, attending a real-estate seminar. He thinks he’s going to open his own office someday. I’ve been shorthanded for the past three days because of it.”
She straightened. “What did you say?”
“I said Gus is out of town. He couldn’t have been at the Firelight yesterday.”
She felt her fingernails curve into her palms. “So where the hell is Leonard getting his information?”
“No idea. I’ve never had a picture like that. Where would I even get one?”
Cursing under her breath, she pivoted and started out, but he stopped her.
“Sophia?”
She paused, one hand on the screen door.
“I’m sorry that we remember what happened when you were living at home so differently.”
She knew better than to take the conversation any further, knew better than to ask. But she couldn’t help herself. “How do you remember it, Gary?” she asked, whirling around to face him.
“As being what it should be,” he said. “Maybe not idyllic. But I was a good provider and—”
“What happened between us has nothing to do with providing, and you know it.”
“But I never meant you any harm! I was just trying to love you, to be demonstrative. It wasn’t as if you were getting any hugs or…or affection from your father.” He spread out his hands. “And this is what I get for it?”
His feigned innocence conjured up instant rage. Had he admitted to what he’d done and taken responsibility for it, even privately, she might’ve been able to forgive him. But he was attempting to rewrite history, to erase his actions altogether. And he was doing it by making her the liar, which invalidated all the pain, the fear and the insecurity he’d caused her.
“You didn’t do anything because I wouldn’t let you get away with it,” she said. “But don’t think I’ll ever forget how hard you tried.” She slammed the screen door as she went out.
“Sophia, come on.” He stood by the door and held it open. “This grudge of yours—it’s killing your mother.”
She faced him again. “So now what happened is my fault?”
“I’m not saying that.” He switched to a conciliatory tone. “I’m just saying…let it go, okay? I’m tired of you trying to make me look bad. It wasn’t that big a deal.”
How dare he try to minimize what he’d done or make himself out to be the victim! “I believed you were carrying around a picture of me naked. That’s how big a deal it was,” she said, and got on her bike.
Needing some time alone, some time to deal with the emotions pouring through her and the memories the confrontation had called up, she started her motorcycle and tore out of the lot, hoping for a few minutes of quiet solitude at home.
But as soon as she hit Center Street, a news van began to tail her.
Driving downtown, Rod tried to put Sophia out of his mind. He was officially on the case, under the vague title of “consultant.” And Special Agent Van Dormer had, for the most part, taken charge, so Rod didn’t need Sophia’s acceptance and cooperation as much as he’d needed it before.
Yet he was still thinking about her.
When he saw her in the parking lot of Denny’s surrounded by reporters, he nearly stopped his car. With the dust and the heat, that ring of vans reminded him of a rodeo. She was the calf in the center, being hog-tied. Sophia had been expecting the pressure; they’d discussed it at the meeting—what to say and what not to say should one of them be cornered by a reporter—but she didn’t seem comfortable despite being prepped. She kept edging away from them, trying to return to her bike.
Tempted to rescue her, he let his Hummer idle at the next light so long the vehicle behind him honked.
She’s fine. He drove on. Considering the dynamics of their relationship, he should keep out of it. She’d been hell on his ego once before. Why ask for a second helping? Besides, she was part and parcel of this town, a town he was as determined to leave behind now as he’d been fourteen years ago.
Because Van Dormer had asked them to tape their interviews, he pulled into the drugstore lot, parked and went in to see if they had any voice recorders—and nearly bumped into Edna, who was just coming out.
“Excuse me.” He held the door open, as he would for any woman, but averted his gaze so he wouldn’t have to look at his father’s wife, a woman who wore vast amounts of makeup and owned an extensive wardrobe.