A Light in the Desert

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A Light in the Desert Page 16

by Anne Montgomery


  “Okay.”

  “Let’s eat.”

  Ramm and Kelly prepared dinner.

  “What are my choices?” she asked as Ramm pulled three packages of pasta out of the cupboard.

  “Let’s see. We’ve got angel hair, bow ties and, my personal favorite, the squiggly screw-up kind that stick on your fork.”

  Kelly giggled.

  “You choose.” He opened another cabinet door and checked the shelves. “Oops! No sauce. But don’t worry. I’ve got a case out in the shed. Give me a minute. I’ll be right back.”

  Ramm started for the door, then stopped and turned around. “Why don’t you go around back by the tack barn? Pick some basil. You know what that looks like?”

  “Elect Sun taught me about herbs. I’ll go get some.” Kelly walked out of the kitchen, letting the screen door swing shut behind her.

  The air was cool; a hint that autumn had finally arrived in the desert. Ramm opened the door to the small, thick-walled block building he’d put up to house extra supplies. Since there were no windows, it was dark inside, which kept the building cooler during the hot months. Ramm reached for the switch on the wall. He was greeted by a brief flash, a loud pop, and then darkness. Ghostly images floated through the darkened room.

  “Shit!” Ramm remembered he was out of light bulbs. He could unscrew one in the living room and replace the broken bulb, but he had a good idea where the tomato sauce was and trusted himself in the murky darkness. Ramm opened the door wide, to let in some light, and worked his way to the back of the shed, grateful he always kept the place neat. He couldn’t remember exactly which shelf the jars were on, but he did recall the tomato sauce containers had a raised design on the glass and metal screw lids covering large openings on the top. Ramm moved his hands over the stock of supplies searching for the right jar.

  On the second shelf, he felt the pain. Pulling his injured wrist away violently, he knocked over a number of jars, sending them crashing to the floor. Glass and liquid foodstuff splattered on the concrete.

  Ramm focused on the pain in his wrist. Taking several deep breaths, he willed himself to be calm, and walked slowly out of the darkened shed. He crossed the backyard to the kitchen steps, holding his arm up before him.

  “Kelly!” he tried to keep the panic out of his voice so as not to frighten the girl. He pushed the door open with his foot. Why did a simple insect bite have him so disturbed?

  She sat at the table cleaning a bunch of fresh basil, separating the deep-green leaves from the stalks. “What’s wrong? What’s all over your pants? Is that blood?”

  “No. No, just sauce, I think. It was dark, and I knocked some jars over. Something bit me.” Ramm grimaced, a wave of pain caused by a contraction in his injured hand. “Go out to the truck, Kelly. There’s a first aid kit behind the front seat.”

  Ramm moved into the living room and sat on the edge of the couch. A few minutes later, the medical supply box lay open before him on the coffee table. He surveyed the bite, which appeared to be the work of a spider of some kind, though he was unable to discern the variety from the tiny punctures. A black widow was a possibility, but the spider’s poison would not spread so quickly, and this felt different from bites black widows had inflicted on him in the past. A scorpion, maybe—he’d seen many around the cabin—but he knew their sting usually caused a severe burning sensation.

  Ramm dismissed both creatures. That left him with the possibility that the bite had been the work of a brown recluse, a spider whose venom usually took several hours to work into the victim’s system. Ramm noted the location of the wound. The animal’s bite lay on top of one of the large veins on the inner side of his wrist. He reasoned that might be why the poison seemed to be moving through him so quickly.

  Ramm wracked his brain for other poisonous Sonoran Desert creatures that might have been lurking on the dark shelves in the shed, but suddenly found concentration difficult. A crippling wave of nausea struck him. He began to shiver violently.

  “Kelly!” Ramm lay down on the couch. “Cover me with a blanket. Keep me warm so I don’t go into shock. Clean the bite with antiseptic.”

  He retched. Nothing came up.

  Kelly frantically searched through the packets and bottles in the first aid kit, dug under bandages, tubes of creams and gels, scissors, tweezers, needles, eyewash.

  “Which one, Jason? Which one is antiseptic? I can’t read.”

  But Ramm didn’t answer. He’d passed out.

  43

  COOPER SAT AT THE DESK in his home office and read through the notes he’d taken on the disappearance of Kelly Garcia.

  Kate snooped through the contents of the bookshelf that covered an entire wall. “Now I know what you do in your spare time.” She eyed the titles. “Dante’s Inferno, Baseball’s Greatest Quotes, John Toland’s Adolf Hitler: Volumes 1 and 2, Sacajawea, and Rodale’s Illustrated Encyclopedia of Herbs. You’re one eclectic son-of-a-bitch, Coop.”

  “Admit it. You find me fascinating.” He winked at Kate and picked up a new document from the fax machine.

  “What are you reading?”

  “William Carl James. Eighteen years old. Resides at 2534 North Rachel Road in Los Angeles. Son of Buck James and Karina Lopez. Our boy’s got priors for disorderly conduct, assault, shoplifting, and animal mutilation.”

  “How nice.” Kate grimaced.

  “He’s also got a sealed juvy record, so our boy’s been busy.”

  “Buck said he’s been out here a couple of weeks. What did he come back for?”

  “Good question. Especially when you consider the kid probably wasn’t here to visit dear old dad. Take a look at this.” Cooper handed Kate a case file from the Child Protective Services.

  She scanned the printout. “Six home visits. The boy was beaten. Burned with cigarettes. Suffered a broken arm and nose, and multiple lacerations requiring twenty stitches. That last one put Buck in prison for eighteen months.” She stared at Cooper. “That’s all he got? Eighteen months? That’s disgusting. How’s that possible?”

  “Maybe he pled out.”

  Kate looked at the accompanying pictures of the dark-haired boy with the steely dead eyes and high cheekbones, the front and side views above the numbers marking Billy’s permanent place in California’s penal system.

  “Though I hate to admit it, there’s a part of me that wants to feel sorry for the kid,” she said. “What were his chances in life with a father like Buck?”

  “We all make choices, Kate. There are plenty of people with horrendous backgrounds who have gone on to make something of themselves.”

  “You think it’s all about choice, Coop? We are totally in control of who we are and what we become?”

  “Not completely. I do believe some people are just born evil. Their wiring is off. Someday, when scientists have cut into enough bad-guy brains, they’ll discover something is out of whack. That’s why I’m completely against conjugal visits for the real miscreants. Though I’m sure the American Civil Liberties folks would disagree, I don’t think we need to be spreading those serial criminal genes out into the population.”

  Kate leaned up against the edge of the desk. “From what I’ve read, there are plenty of women willing to marry and multiply with the Charles Mansons of the world.”

  Cooper shook his head. “You’re a woman. Help me with that. How can anyone be drawn to monsters like Ted Bundy and John Wayne Gacy?”

  “It’s called low self-esteem. Make that no self-esteem,” Kate picked up a document from the edge of Cooper’s desk. “Still, the girl always knows where her man is when he’s behind bars.”

  “I guess that’s a plus.” Cooper paused.

  “What?”

  “I just remembered something. Elect Peter said Kelly was accosted by some guy nobody recognized?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Wanna bet our boy Billy was looking for a little ‘strange’ and came across the girl? Maybe it wasn’t the first time. Maybe he’d seen her
before.”

  “Maybe he’s got her hidden away somewhere.” Kate shivered at the thought.

  Cooper grabbed the phone, punched in the numbers, and waited for the captain to pick up. “Buddy.”

  “Cooper.”

  “Put out an APB on a Chevy Cavalier. Baby blue. Arizona license plate number 865GPE.”

  Kate tapped Cooper on the shoulder and pointed to the document she held. She ran her finger halfway down the page, stopping at what she wanted the deputy to see.

  He read the list of weapons Buck James claimed were missing from his trailer. “And Buddy, the driver, Billy James, is dangerous and may be armed.”

  “Noted,” Buddy said. “Also, Elect Sun wants you to call her. She says it’s very important.”

  “Did she say what it’s about?”

  “No, she didn’t have your number and just asked that you call her as soon as you have a chance.”

  44

  ELECT SUN, EXHAUSTED from weeding the vegetable garden, knelt in the soft dark earth between small heir-loom tomato plants and a row of sweet corn. The crunch of a vehicle on gravel drew her attention to the front drive where she saw Deputy Cooper’s Blazer pull to a stop. Her heart pounded. Had Kelly been located and, if so, what condition was she in? She rose to meet the deputy.

  “Elect Sun.” Cooper strode across the yard.

  He was smiling. Surely, it was good news.

  Elect Sun relaxed a little.

  The kitchen door slammed. Elect Peter walked through the shade of the giant cottonwood to join them. “Any word?”

  “No, not yet. I’m sorry. I don’t have anything good to tell you. We’re still looking for Kelly, but we do have some information about a man who was seen at the wreck site.”

  Elect Peter motioned Cooper and Kate to some white plastic chairs under the tree. He and Elect Sun sat on the slatted cedar swing. They listened as the deputy explained how the University of Arizona student helped retrieve the unconscious girl from the wreckage, and how the man carried Kelly off into the darkness.

  “Tell me what this man looked like.” Elect Peter focused on Cooper.

  “Caucasian, six two or so, pale eyes, slender, muscular. We should have a sketch later today. We’ll get a copy over to you as soon as we get it. Sound like anyone you know?”

  Neither Elect Sun nor Elect Peter spoke.

  “I … don’t know.” Elect Sun avoided eye contact with the deputy.

  “How about someone who resembles this man who also knows Kelly?” Kate asked. “You’ve both said she was acquainted with very few people.”

  “That’s true.” Elect Sun pressed her hands together and held them in her lap.

  Cooper watched the woman stare at the ground. “Elect Sun, the girl is pregnant. The guy might be hurting her.”

  “Oh, no!” Elect Sun blinked, stared at Cooper, and then looked away. “I can’t imagine that. Not at all.”

  Cooper furrowed his brow, then stood, and checked his watch. “We’re going to the office to pick up a copy of the sketch. I was assured it would be available by 4:00 p.m. I hope when we return, you’ll be ready to tell us what you know.”

  Elect Peter nodded. Elect Sun would not meet the deputy’s gaze.

  The Blazer roared down the drive.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Kate watched the compound’s date palms race by. “It’s pretty friggin’ obvious they know where the girl is. They’re not very adept in the lying department.”

  “They probably haven’t had much practice.” Cooper turned onto the blacktop that would lead them to Route 8.

  “I suppose the good news is they seem pretty certain the girl’s not in any danger.” Kate noticed Cooper’s tight grip on the steering wheel, and the anger etched on his face.

  “They don’t know anything!” He spit the words. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen people try to protect some perp, thinking he’d never harm a soul. But I have to sort through the body parts.”

  “I’m sure …”

  “Trust me. You can’t be sure of anything. These are naïve, cloistered people. They have no idea what goes on in the real world. You wanna know why I left Phoenix, Kate?” Cooper mashed his foot on the accelerator. “I couldn’t stand the ignorance anymore. Every time some pig did something horrible, and we actually managed to catch him, all his friends and relatives came out of the woodwork, spewing sound bites to the media about what a great guy he was, and how they knew he couldn’t possibly have knifed and burned his family. How the cops must have planted the evidence. Or my favorite, ‘If only Johnny hadn’t gotten in with the wrong crowd.’ How come nobody’s kid is ever the ringleader of the wrong crowd, Kate? Tell me that, would you?”

  Cooper took the on-ramp almost skidding into the guardrail.

  “Slow down, Coop. We’re gonna find her.”

  45

  KELLY SAT IN THE OVERSTUFFED chair by the fireplace and watched Ramm thrash in his sleep. He was sweating profusely. He kicked the blanket to the floor and she was startled by the sight of his arm. Puffy flesh surrounded the bite, and a bright red vein marched past his elbow and up his inner arm.

  She drew a deep breath. Her legs ached, the baby was kicking, she had indigestion, and her head hurt, but she eased herself off the chair, walked to the couch, and tucked the quilt back in around Ramm.

  She never saw his fist coming. It was a glancing blow to the right side of her jaw, but she was knocked off balance and fell to the floor. A hot, salty taste filled her mouth. Blood. She put a finger to her lip and it came away red. Small droplets landed on the carpet. Kelly dabbed the wound with the hem of her sweatshirt. She opened and shut her mouth several times checking the damage. She’d be bruised, but if Ramm had hit her squarely, she could have easily been knocked out.

  Kelly eyed the sleeping man. He was mumbling something incoherent in his sleep. She struggled to her feet and backed away. She looked down at Dog. “I have to go get help.” She patted the animal on the head. It was the right decision. “Jason said there’s no phone here, so I’ll go find Elect Peter. He’ll take care of Jason’s arm.”

  But finding the way to the compound of the Children of Light would not be easy. Kelly wasn’t exactly sure where Ramm’s cabin was situated. While she could tell directions from the position of the sun, she didn’t know which way to go. She hadn’t seen any homes or other people on their walks, though she had noticed bright green, cultivated fields in the distance where there must certainly be a farmhouse and people.

  The keys to Ramm’s truck lay on the mantel above the fireplace. Kelly fingered the Green Beret emblem on the chain. She had never driven before.

  Ramm moaned again. His teeth were chattering now. She had no choice. She grabbed two blankets from the bed and carefully spread them over and around him, constantly wary of his hands. When she was satisfied he was warm enough, she collected the keys and headed for the yard.

  Kelly sat in the driver’s seat of Ramm’s black truck, blood oozing from her broken lip. She checked her face in the rearview mirror and wiped the blood with the back of her hand.

  She tried the keys on the ring until one slipped into the slot on the steering column. She turned the key and the engine switched on. Gripping the wheel with both hands, she studied the dashboard. What should she do next? Kelly closed her eyes and envisioned sitting in the truck next to Eduardo. She reached for the gearshift, but couldn’t force the handle to move. She saw the markings P R N D 2 1, but didn’t know what they meant.

  Inadvertently, Kelly pulled the gearshift toward her, slipping the transmission into reverse. The truck lurched backward. Even if the seat hadn’t been adjusted for a man of Ramm’s height, Kelly wouldn’t have known to put her foot on the brake. The truck traveled backward down the drive and picked up speed as it descended down the hill. Kelly tried to steer, causing the vehicle to careen wildly from side to side.

  Turning to look behind her, she saw the hard turn in the road, a bend made to skirt a massive pile of tail
ings left from the days when the Rowley was a working mine. Kelly tried to force the door to the cab open, but before she could, the truck plunged off the road down into a shrub-filled ditch and slammed into the base of the rock pile. When the pickup’s rear end made contact with the boulders, Kelly felt a hard jolt.

  She placed her hand on her belly and said a grateful prayer that she had remembered to put the seat belt on. She shut down the engine, opened the door, and got out to survey the damage. The right rear tire was flat, the bumper and passenger side panel caved in.

  Kelly walked slowly up the road back to the cabin wishing she wasn’t pregnant. Usually quick and agile, she could have run for help, but that possibility was out of the question.

  As she approached the yard, Kelly heard Becky whinny from the corral. After making her way around back, Kelly stared at the Appaloosa. She’d ridden a few times with her father, but certainly not eight months pregnant. Kelly watched the horse paw the ground, then gallop off to the other side of the enclosure. Suddenly, the animal seemed very large.

  A short time later, Kelly stared at the equipment she’d gathered. Unable to figure out how to secure the saddle and bridle, she discarded both for a rope halter and a thick black and brown Navajo saddle blanket. She looped the rope she found in the tack shed over the horse’s head, and led the animal to the side of the corral. Kelly tied the line tightly to a post, then climbed the fence, speaking gently to the horse as she moved. She progressed slowly. Finally, Kelly eased one leg, then the other, up over the top rail, but when she reached for Becky, the horse shied away.

  “Easy, girl,” Kelly grasped the Appaloosa’s mane. After coaxing the animal toward her, she awkwardly pulled herself onto the horse’s back. At that moment, Kelly froze. She had neglected to pack any food or water, but she might not be able to remount the horse and Ramm was suffering. She had to go now.

  Kelly urged the animal forward.

 

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