Evasive Action (Holding The Line Book 1)

bachelor, he had a halfway decent supply of regular food. Yeah, he had plenty of beer and a fair number of take-out containers with questionable contents, but he did have fresh vegetables and some eggs still within their date of expiration.
She whipped up a couple of omelets and mixed a salad of tomatoes, cucumbers and avocados. By the time Clay came through the door, she’d added a vase of flowers to the kitchen table and poured two glasses of iced tea.
He swept off his hat, his gaze bouncing from the table to her face. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”
“No trouble. I can’t believe how nicely those flowers are growing out back in this weather.”
“You planted them.” He swung his bag onto the kitchen table and the flowers wobbled on their stems. “I just keep watering them like you told me to.”
“You do have a green thumb, Clay Archer.”
Holding up his thumb, he inspected it. “I’m just good at following orders.”
“Well, so am I.” She ignored his eye roll. “I cleaned my gun with the stuff you left in the garage, took Denali out for a walk and managed to scrape some food together for lunch.”
“Looks good.” He unbuckled his equipment belt, which sagged on his hips. “I’m gonna wash my hands and dig in. Called my friend with the security business. He’s going to help me outfit both houses.”
“I’ll pay for his services at my house.”
He cranked his head over his shoulder as he scrubbed his hands beneath the kitchen faucet. “We’ll take care of it. I feel like I owe Meg something for bringing that to her home...your home. What is that arrangement, anyway?”
“She’ll stay there until I decide if I want to sell the house or not.” April pulled out a chair at the table, tucking the strap of Clay’s bag beneath the satchel.
“You don’t have to check with Adam?”
“Adam doesn’t own the house. I do.” She picked up a fork. “I—I mean I’ll share the money with him if I sell it.”
“Why should you?” Clay took a seat at the table and flicked the cloth napkin into his lap. “That’s not what your mother intended, is it? That’s why you got all her life insurance money, too. She didn’t trust Adam with the money.”
April nibbled on her bottom lip. “I was never able to reach him today. I want to check on him tomorrow when we go to Albuquerque.”
“I sure hope Verdugo didn’t find out that Adam took that flash drive.”
“I don’t think Adam would be that stupid to nab Jimmy’s property—whatever it contains.”
Clay snorted but refrained from commenting as he dug into his omelet. “Tell me about Denali’s walk. Did you take him to the pecan grove?”
“Yes, but he saw something that spooked him. Ran back to me all in a tizzy, fur sticking up.”
“Always happens.” Clay plucked a glob of melted cheese from his plate and held it under the table for Denali.
“You spoil him.”
“You should talk.” Clay waved his fork over the table. “This is great, thanks.”
“The least I could do.” Considering I ran out on our wedding.
When Clay ignored Denali’s demands for more table scraps, the dog scampered around the table in a big circle, sniffing the floor. On his second rotation, he crashed into the leg of the table and Clay’s bag began to slip from the table.
April grabbed the strap, but Clay’s heavy bag fell to the floor with a clump, anyway, a sheaf of papers sliding from the top.
“Hope he didn’t break my laptop.”
“It should be fine.” She crouched on the floor as Clay scraped back his chair.
“I’ll get that.”
The papers fanned out in front of her on the floor, and she swept them into a pile and tapped them on the tile.
“I’ll take those.”
She glanced up at Clay’s face, a little white around his pursed lips, and then shifted her gaze to the papers in her hand. She flipped the stack over, and a lump formed in her throat.
“Pictures of the head from yesterday.”
“I’m sorry, yeah.” Clay held out his hand. He repeated, “I’ll take those.”
She brought the printout of the photo close to her face and studied the gory details. Then she dropped the sheaf of papers and fell back onto the floor with a strangled cry.
“I know. I’m sorry, April. You shouldn’t have looked. I told you not to look.”
She brought a hand to her tight throat and her eyes met Clay’s as she choked out, “I know her.”

Chapter Nine
Clay snatched the printouts and crushed them to his chest where his heart thundered. “No, you just think you do. People in death don’t look the same as they did in life—especially if they’ve been beheaded. She could be anyone.”
April cranked her head back and forth, a blank stare in her blue eyes. “I know that woman. Her name is Elena.”
Clay stuffed the sheaf of papers, now crinkled and creased, into his bag and took April by the hand to help her to her feet.
She rose and then immediately plopped down in her chair. If the chair hadn’t been there, she would’ve wound up on the floor again.
She smoothed her palms over her thighs, over and over, ironing the wrinkles in her pants. “It’s her. I know it’s Elena.”
“Here.” Clay shoved the sweating iced tea glass under her nose. “Drink something.”
“What does it mean? Why is she here?” April stopped the repetitive movement and grabbed his hand, her nails clawing at his flesh.
He curled his fingers around her wrist and squeezed. “Why do you think it’s this woman Elena? The features are distorted, her skin discolored. Detective Espinoza was wondering at the office how we were going to put a sketch out. That’s why the sheriff’s department didn’t realize right away that the woman’s head from the day before yesterday didn’t belong to the body we found at the border. Skin color, features, sagging, wrinkling...all change under those dire conditions.”
“Look again.” She poked at his bag with a trembling finger. “That woman has a