“Do you have a gun?”
“A gun? No. Why would you even think that?”
“Well, you’re a kidnapper. I just thought you might have a gun.”
“No. But they won’t bother us so long as we keep the fire burning. Coyotes are afraid of...wood smoke.”
Elena scurried back into the clearing, standing close to the fire. “Do we have lots of firewood? Should we collect more?”
Travis eyed the meager pile of deadwood he’d collected, most of which had been lying around within twenty or thirty feet of their campsite. He’d been planning to let the fire die down; it wasn’t so cold that they really needed the warmth. But after the whopping lies he’d just told, he was going to have to keep it burning. Well, he hadn’t intended to sleep much tonight anyway.
“I’ll go get more.”
She picked up one of the smaller logs and held it, club fashion. “Don’t go far. If I see anything move, I’ll scream.”
Now he felt a little bit guilty for making her so afraid. She hadn’t shown that much fear toward him, and he had the capacity to do her a lot more harm than a scrawny coyote.
Travis spent about ten minutes collecting more wood, occasionally checking on Elena to make sure she wasn’t pulling another fast one, using the distraction of the coyotes to get him out of the way so she could make a break for it. Then he moved the tarp to the ground closer to the fire and spread the sleeping bag on it again. “You can sleep here. It’s not the Ritz, and you’re probably used to a feather bed and silk comforter at Logan’s house, but it shouldn’t be too bad.”
She shrugged. “I’ve slept in worse places.”
“Really? When?”
She sat cross-legged on the sleeping bag and pulled one end of it around her shoulders for warmth. “How about in the bottom of a leaky dinghy?”
Yes, that sounded worse. “When did you—”
“Never mind. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s something I don’t think about often, let alone talk about.”
Now he was consumed with curiosity. She’d dropped a few hints that she hadn’t always lived a privileged existence, but now he wondered how bad it had been.
“Elena, how did you learn to pick pockets?”
“It’s a gift.”
A pat answer. “So, you don’t want to talk about that, either?”
She shook her head. The coyotes howled again, and she shivered.
“I promise not to let the coyotes get you, okay?”
Elena nodded, but she looked as if she didn’t completely believe him.
“Is there anything you do want to talk about? It’s kind of early to go to bed.”
She hesitated, staring at him intently as if seeking to see beneath his skin. “Why are you willing to exchange places with your brother, to go to prison for him? Isn’t your life worth saving, too?”
So, she didn’t want to talk about bad times in her life, but his life was fair game? He supposed he could say no. But he didn’t. “Look, I don’t relish spending the next few decades behind bars. But Eric... You’d have to know him. He was a special kid even before he could walk and talk. He had this wild, curly blond hair and inquisitive eyes, and as soon as he could talk, he wanted to know everything. His curiosity knew no bounds. He was smart, too—absorbed everything like a sponge. You’d tell him something once, he’d remember it. You’d show him how to do something and he’d pick it up immediately, and pretty soon he’d be doing it better than you. I taught him how to tie his shoes in five minutes.
“He made straight As in school. The teachers loved him. The other kids loved him. Yet nothing ever went to his head. He was exceptional in every way, and he knew it, but he still managed to somehow be humble.
“The girls were all over him, but he always treated them nice. He had a few different girlfriends over the years, but he was loyal to each one while he was with her.
“He got a full-ride scholarship to Stanford, and then he went to law school. He was courted by some pretty big law firms, but he didn’t want to leave Houston, so he went with a smaller firm. He could have been a very successful trial lawyer—he was something to watch in the courtroom. But he chose real estate law instead because he didn’t like the confrontational aspect of the courtroom or the unsavory nature of dealing with criminals. He’s basically too nice to be that kind of lawyer.
“When he met Tammy, he was positive she was the one. They seemed to be the golden couple living the perfect life. They had a gorgeous home, and when MacKenzie was born it was the icing on the cake.
“Eric didn’t have a malicious bone in his body. I never once in my whole life saw him lose his temper. Which is why it’s so ludicrous that he would kill Tammy.
“We used to go fishing as kids, but I noticed that Eric never baited his hook right. He was hoping a turtle would steal his bait so he wouldn’t have to catch anything—so he wouldn’t have to clean it. That was how much he hated knives. Can’t see him picking up a knife and stabbing someone.”
“Did you testify at your brother’s trial? As a character witness?”
“No. His attorney was afraid I’d do more harm than good, seeing as I’m an ex-con. He thought I would have no credibility.”
A wariness came into her eyes. “Oh. You’ve been to prison?”
“Assault. It was self-defense, but I couldn’t prove that, so I pled out. Did eighteen months.”
“Excuse me for saying so, but Eric’s lawyer was an ass. If a jury had heard what you just told me... Well, let’s just say it would have made them think.”
CHAPTER SIX
ELENA COULDN’T BELIEVE this was happening to her, but she was actually taking Travis’s side. She’d always had strong feelings about the work Project Justice did. Her family had come to this country to find freedom and fairness, and it had appealed to her sense of honor that even when the justice system made a mistake, there was still recourse. Her family had left Cuba when they did because her father was being threatened with jail simply for expressing an opinion that wasn’t popular with the government.
Her father had trained as a doctor, but for reasons Elena never fully understood, he hadn’t been allowed to practice. Instead, his fine mind had gone to waste in the cane fields and his family had lived in a tin shack. And even that had been threatened.
Their first few years in America, they’d still been relatively poor. But they’d been free—free to speak their minds, to live and work where they wanted, and free from the constant threat of jail.
She was proud to work for the man who had created a foundation that defended people who’d been unfairly imprisoned.
But this was the first time she had been so up close and personal with the pain and devastation a false conviction wreaked on the prisoner’s family. If her family had not left Cuba when they had, she could easily be the one left on the outside, mourning an innocent person’s life being wasted behind bars. She could easily see herself in Travis’s place—powerless to help, desperate to make someone—anyone—listen to reason.
Still, she couldn’t overlook the fact that Travis had himself committed a crime. He’d kidnapped her and was still holding her against her will, though her will had weakened considerably over the past few hours.
How she felt didn’t really matter, she supposed. The course had been set. Nothing would happen until tomorrow, when Travis checked his voice mail to find out Daniel’s