Chapter 2

Dead End

"Givens." Raylan answered his cell by rote, yet in a state of confusion. He scrubbed his face with his hand, and quickly glanced at the motel clock on the nightstand.

"Raylan? Where are you?"

"Winona." It read 12:50 p.m. He must have dozed off longer than intended.

"I'm here, waiting for you at the Food Court," she went on. "I don't mean to interrupt your meeting or anything, but I'm anxious to find out how things are going. How much longer do you think you'll be?" This was her way of saying she was worried about him.

"I've got some bad news," he prefaced what he was about to say; grateful they weren't face to face.

After a beat she asked, "Wha? What kind of bad news?"

"Anna's no longer with us." He cleared his throat and took another swig of whisky from his glass, diluted from the water formed from melted ice. "She's deceased."

"Oh, my God," Winona gasped. "What happened to her? When?"

"I dunno. Mr. Dumois didn't wanna talk about it."

"I'm so sorry, Raylan. Are you okay?"

"I will be." He sat up and swung his long legs to the side of the bed. "To be honest with ya,' I had a bad feelin' about this one."

"I know you did." After a pause, she added, "And I'm the one who built up your hopes, only to have them let down."

"I'm a lawman," he said. "Hope is not somethin' that goes with my job. And besides, it's good you're more optimistic than me. It'll be good for Willa to see both sides of the coin."

"Thanks. I never thought about it that way," she said.

"I'll be there in a few minutes to pick up you and Willa."

"Would you like for me to grab you something for lunch from the Food Court, To Go?"

"I'm not hungry," he answered. "But thanks for askin'."

"Anytime," she said.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

The late check-out turned into a stay for another night. Despite what he said, Raylan was in no condition to drive to Miami. Winona convinced him that it was better for them to make a fresh start the next day, after the morning traffic rush cleared.

Raylan brought in the new port-o-crib from the car, which made for a nice, clean bed for Willa and doubled as a playpen. Expensive, it was a nifty, lightweight model that required no assembly. Winona didn't have one in Miami. It would become even more useful in the months to come. That night, Winona fed Willa, gave her a bath, and dressed her in one of her new, larger sleepers. She was an extra good baby this day, almost as if she knew her parents needed some time to themselves. Willa went to bed with very little effort on Winona's part.

"There's nothin' to eat around here, is there?" Raylan asked, sorry he'd passed on lunch earlier in the day. Both passed on dinner.

"Luckily, I didn't listen to you," she said.

"Please, don't ever listen to me," he smiled. "I'm often wrong."

Returning the smile, she said, "I have some soft pretzels in my bag from the Food Court . . . and some Mrs. Field's cookies."

"Chocolate chip? Peanut Butter?" He could hope.

"And Snicker Doodles," she answered.

"Your favorite. Of course. I'll take a pretzel, first" he decided.

Winona rifled through her hobo bag and retrieved two wrapped pretzels along with packets of honey mustard.

Raylan was so hungry, the big, cold pretzel tasted amazingly good. He washed it down with some more of his whiskey on ice. Winona, who had eaten only about a third of her pretzel, offered the rest of hers to him.

"Are ya' sure?" he asked.

"I had a big lunch," she answered. "You didn't. And besides, I bought five big cookies for the price of three." She went back to her bag and retrieved the cookies. Not surprisingly, she went straight for one of the Snicker Doodles. She decided to chase it with water as her beverage of choice, thinking she'd let Raylan drink whiskey if he wanted. She could drive them into Miami if need be.

Raylan chased the second pretzel with one of the Snicker Doodles, deciding they should save the other cookies for the road. He was lying in bed with his back propped up on the headboard. Winona dimmed the light on the bedside lamp as she crawled in the bed beside him.

"How are you doing, Cowboy?" She nuzzled him, placing her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her. "You know, Willa and I are your family now." She looked up at him with sparkling blue eyes.

"Yeah, ya' are," he spoke low so as not to wake the baby. And he cupped her chin in his hand and lowered his mouth to meet hers.

The cinnamon and sugar from the Snicker Doodles swirled in their mouths as their tongues co-mingled, leading the way to an urgent embrace. Soon, their fully clothed pelvises were pressed together, moving in time with their increasingly heavy breaths. Their desire to merge continued to build as they undressed one another, writhing against each other all the while. Breathless, Raylan reached down on the floor and grabbed his jeans to fish his wallet out of the back pocket. He pulled a condom from the billfold, and Winona took it from him and seductively rolled it on. He was ready and so was she, and she guided him inside her. From above her, he entered her in three agonizingly slow movements that literally took her breath away.

She made him forget about his day, if only for a little while. They kissed and caressed. His fingertips combed the tresses around her face. His skilled attention led her to release twice before he followed her over the edge the second time. Shaking, spent, and intoxicated by both his much needed release and the whiskey, Raylan was asleep in no time, snoring softly.

Raylan was a strong man. He could take care of himself. No one knew that better than Winona. But even Raylan, the lawman who didn't need anyone, could have used a sibling. Winona couldn't fathom her life without Gayle. Sure, the sisters would sometimes fight or disagree about things, but when push came to shove, Winona knew she could always count on her sister to have her back. It saddened her to learn that Raylan would never have that in his life.

Covering them with a blanket, Winona pulled Raylan's sleeping form towards her so that his head rested on her shoulder, and her head gently rested on the top of his. She protectively wrapped her arms, legs, and her body around his and held him close to her, as they slept through the night.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

As planned, Raylan and Winona woke up before Willa, got dressed and fed and dressed the baby before leaving checking out and heading for breakfast. Both were famished. Raylan had a mild hangover and was not happy about being outside in the bright sunshine headed for more in the Sunshine State. Neither was Willa.

Winona claimed the driver's seat, while Raylan stretched out in the backseat on the passenger side, hiding his eyes from the glare of the early morning sun with the brim of the hat. He was able to situate the hood of Willa's car seat to keep the sun out of her eyes, too.

"She's just like me," he announced from the backseat to Winona. "I think she needs a Stetson."

Winona laughed as she pulled onto the interstate. Traffic was much lighter. "She's also got your big head," Winona added, looking at him through the rear view through her dark glasses.

"Gee, thanks a lot," Raylan miffed.

"No. Seriously. Her head circumference continues to be in the 78th percentile," she knowledgeably reported. "And I felt every centimeter when she was coming out," she added under her breath.

"Do say." Raylan closed his eyes. "It means she's a smart girl." He handed Willa the monkey that she had dropped on the seat. She smiled and giggled with delight as she grabbed her friend and brought it closer.

Raylan's cell phone buzzed, and he reached inside the pocket of his denim jacket and glanced at the unfamiliar number before answering, "Givens."

"Is this Deputy Marshal Givens, from the Lexington, Kentucky office?" The voice was low, quiet, as if the speaker didn't want anyone else to hear.

"Yes. Who is this?"

"I'm sorry I couldn't talk to you yesterday morning."

"Mrs. Dumois?" Raylan guessed, remembering to use the French pronunciation.

"I know what André told you, Marshal, but my daughter is not dead."

"Then, why...?" Raylan started.

"My husband is a foolish and angry man. I'm sorry he took our family problems out on you. I can't talk long. If he hears me talking to you, the fur will fly."

"Can ya' put me in touch with her?"

There was a short pause. "I'll see what I can do. Now, I have to go. I'll call you again when I can." The phone went dead.

Observing Raylan's strange demeanor as he disconnected the call, Winona asked, "Who was that?"

"That was Marguerite Dumois. Anna's mother," he answered, placing the phone back inside his jacket pocket. "She says Anna isn't dead."

"But I don't understand," Winona said in disbelief.

"Me neither," he said. "It makes no sense. It was as if she couldn't talk to me for fear her husband would overhear her. She said she'd call me back when she can."

"When will that be?" she asked, very aware she was driving them towards Florida, away from Marietta.

"Winona . . . I'm sorry. I dunno. I'm tellin' ya' what she told me." He took off his hat, let out a long sigh, and raked his fingers through his hair.

"Well . . . what do you want to do?" she asked, trying to sound supportive. She felt for him being played on an emotional yo-yo.

"I dunno," he looked at her looking at him through the rear view. "I suppose we should kinda stay put until I do hear from her."

"Do you want me to turn around and head back towards Marietta?" She would do whatever he needed to do.

"Did we just cross into Fulton County?" he answered her with another question.

"Yeah. About 10 exits ago," she answered. "Why?"

"We might as well find us a nicer place to stay tonight," he was thinking out loud. "Maybe a place with a pool, athletic club. Amenities. Restaurants nearby. You know, a hotel."

"Sure. We could do that."

"Would ya' mind if we just planned on stickin' around another night?" he asked, feeling her out.

"No, not all," she again tried to sound supportive. "Look, there's a Marriott coming up in a couple of exits. Would a Residence Inn be too expensive?"

"No," he said. "Sounds perfect. We might as well relax while we wait."

"Good," she said. "I could even stop at a grocery store and pick up a few things. Some more food for Willa. Maybe make us some pasta with some good bread and a salad. Pick up some wine and another bottle of bourbon?"

He smiled. "God bless ya', woman."

"I'll call Mama and let her know we'll be delayed for a day or two but that we're fine," she said, pulling over to the far right lane in anticipation of the up and coming exit. "That way, she won't worry."

"Good idea," he said.

Keeping busy would be a good way to pass the time. It was certainly better than sitting and waiting for the phone to ring.

"Hey," he called out from the back seat. "By the way . . . thank you."

"You can owe me, Cowboy," she said with a grin. She only wished she could do more.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

The Residence Inn had a large enclosed pool, with a kiddie slide and lanes for lap swimmers. Raylan didn't have swimming trunks, so he sat in one of the deck chairs, sipping whiskey from one of the hotel coffee mugs, boots on and his cell phone close by.

He watched Winona play with Willa in the pool. The baby splashed and laughed, and Winona was very careful not to let any water get in her ears. When Willa tired, Winona wrapped them both in a towel and discreetly nursed her until she fell asleep. She leaned back in the lounge chair, holding her baby and noticing as Raylan checked his cell phone for the fourth or fifth time.

"I'm sure she'll call."

Raylan nodded and looked at the time. "She was just leavin' as I got there yesterday. Told me she was late for school. Looked to me like she was a teacher. What time does school get out?"

"I don't know. Three?" she guessed. It was around 2:30 now.

"Why would André Dumois lie to me about his daughter bein' dead?" Raylan wondered out loud. His first contact with his sister's adoptive family left him with more questions than answers.

The cell phone on the table buzzed, and he grabbed for it, reading the number. "Shit," he said. "It's Art." He touched 'ignore' and let his boss go to voicemail.

"Do you think that was wise?" Winona asked.

"I don't wanna be talkin' to him when Marguerite calls." He set the phone back down.

Winona reached over and squeezed his hand. "She'll call," she said again.

He squeezed back and took another sip of whiskey, trying to relax, but the drink wasn't cutting it. He was about to suggest they head back up to the room and take advantage of Willa's naptime, when the door to the pool area opened and three boys burst through followed by their harried looking parents.

A skinny red-headed boy of about six cheered, "Wow! Lookatthatslide!"

"Last one in's a rotten egg!" Another boy, bigger with the same carrot-top ran after him.

The last boy was about four, still chubby with baby-fat. He trailed behind his brothers, pouting. "Hey, no fair, wait for me!"

"Boys!" The mother called. "No running!" She glanced at Raylan and Winona, noticing the baby sleeping.

"I am so sorry," she said, shaking her head. "We've been in the car since five this morning."

Taking a flying leap, one of the boys cannon-balled into the pool, the water splashing up to the end of Winona's lounge and dangerously near Raylan's boots.

The father glared at the pool, hands on his hips. "Jacob!" He yelled, his voice loud in the enclosed space. "Get your butt over here." The boy's eyes widened, and he swam to the edge. The father met him, and leaning over, grabbed the child's arm and hauled him out of the pool. "How could you be so stupid?" He continued yelling. "You got these folks all wet." Still gripping the boy he half-walked half-dragged him over to Raylan. "Apologize."

"S-s-sorry," the boy stuttered.

He stared down at his son. "You call that an apology?" The boy's eyes filled, all the excitement and happiness of moments before forgotten.

"It's fine," Winona said. "We didn't get wet."

Tightening his grip on his son's arm, he repeated, "Apologize like you mean it."

Raylan stood, stepping toward the two and Winona held her breath, not wanting a confrontation.

"I'm very s-s-sorry, Ma'am." Wide eyes slid up to his father, seeking approval.

"Better, but not much."

Raylan found his voice. "Don'tcha think you're bein' a little hard on him? No one got hurt."

"It's been a long day," the mother added, her arm wrapped around the youngest boy.

"You keep your damn mouth shut, Gina," he snapped. "And you..." he glared at Raylan. "How I choose to discipline my boy is none of your business." He turned to his wife. "Get 'em together. We're goin' back to the room."

"Mark...we just..."

He shot her a look and her mouth closed like a trap, then opened. "Come on, boys." None of the boys complained, but Jacob caught Raylan's eye as he followed his parents out the door. Raylan stared after them until he felt Winona's hand on his arm.

"You okay?"

He clenched and unclenched his fists at his side.

Knowing he was caught up in bad memories of Arlo, Winona shifted the bundle in her arms. "Here," she said. "Would you hold her while I get our things together?" She met his eyes and smiled, holding out the baby.

It was just what he needed. Raylan took his daughter, dipping his head to hers. "I'll never talk to ya' that way. I swear."

As Winona slipped into her cover-up and stooped to pick up the extra towel, Raylan's cell buzzed. She picked up the phone and handed it to him.

He took it, holding it between his chin and shoulder while keeping a grasp on Willa. "Hello?"

"Marshal Givens? This is Marguerite Dumois."

"Call me Raylan," he said. "I'm so glad ya' called."

"Alright, Raylan." She didn't waste any time. "My husband works this evening. I thought we could meet for an early dinner, if you're still in town."

"We are," he said.

"Where are you staying?" she asked, remembering he was from out of town.

"Just over the Fulton County Line, but we can meet ya' anywhere ya' like."

"Good. I have a friend who has a restaurant not far from you on Clark. Mallorca. Spanish cuisine, very good. I can meet you there at 5:30."

"We'll be there. And thank you."

"You're welcome," she said and disconnected.

"Good news?" Winona asked, as they walked toward the elevators and back to their room.

He nodded. "We're goin' out to dinner."

(To be continued . . .)