by Andrews
"This last part doesn't feel like a cerebral affair," I murmured.
"None of this is a cerebral affair. It's a way, as the song says, to get you to shut up and kiss me."
I awoke from a lovesated nap to Callie's warm hip and leg pressed up against my still-sleepy form and the sound of her fingers clicking on the keyboard as she sat in bed beside me, making me grateful for battery-powered laptops and wireless. She glanced over as I stirred and then patted me through the covers.
"Hi, honey," she said, and I swooned upon hearing her words. I would always get to hear them as long as I could keep her loving me. She belonged to me now, and it was hard to believe this fabulous creature had chosen me.
"Do you think you own me now?" she said without looking up, and I could see her reading glasses propped up on her thin, angular nose that looked so beautifully Greek.
"I do," I said, and she smiled absently about the matrimonial phrase that continued to come out of my mouth by accident.
Feet scraped across the cabin porch and Elmo let out a large bark. So far this trip had been anything but relaxing for the nervous basset, and now we had more uninvited guests.
Chapter Eighteen
Barrett Silvers staggered onto the porch looking tired and gaunt, saving us the trouble of hunting her. We helped her inside and she sagged into a chair, her Esquire good looks only slightly less elegant than when she left, her shirt loose but still bearing her trademark cuff links. I was amazed at the way she managed to look good regardless—it had to be her tall, trim figure that overpowered any inelegance.
Callie brought her a glass of water, and Barrett asked for a Bloody Mary instead. For a non-drinker, Callie was a good bartender, and Barrett was soon stirring her drink with a celery stick and describing how she had driven through hell trying to find anyone who knew Little Horse's whereabouts.
"I don't think there is a fucking Little Horse, or if there is, then his friends have warned him I'm looking for him and he's laying low."
"Little Horse is Nizhoni's uncle," Callie said.
"Who's Nizhoni?" Barrett seemed weary.
"Nizhoni is the girl who went over the cliff," Callie said.
"So why would Little Horse kidnap Ramona?" Barrett asked.
"Callie thinks Ramona went voluntarily, and my police buddy Wade Garner said before you ever met Ramona she had dealings with a Navajo man. He'd asked her to come and see him because he was in trouble. So maybe she's on a business trip."
"That's insane," Barrett said, and I could see she was in no condition to absorb information. The plot wasn't going the way she'd expected so she was rejecting the script.
"We tried to call you but there was no reception," I said. "I tried to call Ramona the entire time I was driving—nothing. Either her cell phone's dead or it's not on her or.. .I don't know."
"The military locates people. Hell, there's a company that collects data on everyone's cell-phone location and creates a detailed view of their life patterns—when they're working, sleeping, traveling, and of course who they're doing," I said. "All that based on phone calls. We might be in the middle of nowhere, but there has to be a way to find Ramona through her cell phone."
"But the phone you're zeroing in on has to be turned on. Her battery's got to be long gone," Barrett said.
I slumped on the couch and leaned my head back and stared at the ceiling, thinking how technology could pinpoint a lunar landing but couldn't track a cell phone. The ice cubes clinked in Barrett's glass as she took another slug and said, "Are you in some kind of cosmic trance too or is your neck broken?"
It was obvious she was feeling better.
"Lat long," I said.
"And you're speaking in tongues?" Barrett remarked.
I stood up, excited now. "Latitude and longitude. We simply pinpoint her via satellite through her cell-phone signal and get a lat long on her."
Barrett stared at me, obviously giving my suggestion some credence. "Still requires a working cell phone."
Grabbing mine, I rang Wade Garner in Tulsa. Neither of us offered to spar with the other, both of us worried about Ramona. When I hit Wade with my idea he said he had a friend at a company back East that did cell-phone signal tracks and he'd give him a call.
"Hey, if you were techno-cop, you'd connect your laptop to a mobile fax, enter your NASA code, scan the surrounds with a GPS, pull up a database, and tell me where she is."
"You're wasting time," I said, and he hung up.
An hour later, Wade called back to say he'd set it up and now he needed Ramona's cell-phone number. Barrett had it memorized. Armed with that, Wade said he'd be back in touch. We all looked at each other and began to smile, pleased that hope might be on the way.
Night fell and all businesses back East were long closed so we hit the sack, talking Barrett into sleeping on the couch. It was strange to have the woman I'd once slept with sleeping in the living room and the one I was sleeping with now in the bedroom.. .but then this was a strange trip and it had been an incredibly long day.
At eight a.m. Pacific time the phone rang and Wade said they had her location in their crosshairs. He'd Googled the lat-long map and entered the degrees and zoomed in on the terrain. He said basically she was at a point several miles southeast of our current location.
Barrett was so excited she kept shouting for us to hurry up and throw on our clothes...we needed to get out there. Even Elmo insisted on going, ducking out of the door at the last minute and standing by the car. Callie let him jump in, saying he'd saved us twice so he'd earned a seat. Barrett looked less certain but didn't argue, most likely not wanting to create any delays.
We drove south out of the city over the winding highway, curving around the red rocks and into flatter land. I pushed the trip-meter on my dash to be able to calculate the exact mileage as Wade had described it to me. The sun blinding us with its intensity, I turned left off 179 onto a road that was more a path than anything else, and I realized we were southeast of the spot where we'd had the infamous campout with Manaba. Sand kicked up around the car, creating a mist of dirt, filtering the sunlight and making the morning appear surreal, leaving a sand signal visible from miles away if anyone was interested.
Barrett was leaning over the front seat checking the odometer. "We're here," she said, and we all looked around, clear on one thing: here was nowhere and we were in the middle of it. Elmo, his nose pressed to the glass, sobbed.
"You're right about that, Elmo," I said, not attempting to get out of the car. "We have no clue where to look." At Elmo's insistence, I finally conceded, got out, hooked him up, and we walked around among the sand burrs. He relieved himself and stood with his ears slightly elevated, staring across the desert.
"Barrett, ring her cell phone," Callie said quietly.
"You're right. We're tracking her cell phone, it might not be on her body," I said.
Barrett dialed the number she knew better than her own, then waited for it to ring. A light wind rustled across the sand and nothing but silence followed.
"Shit," I said, and turned to get back in the car, but Elmo dug in and refused to go. His ears were alert, his body poised, and I remembered he had better hearing than any of us. "Dial it again, Barrett."
Barrett rang Ramona's cell phone one more time, and Elmo strained to pull me in a direction away from the car. "Again," I shouted, and Elmo pulled me farther away. "Again!" I shouted to be heard over the expanse of sand, but this time Barrett and Callie were running to us, and Elmo was pulling me faster. Head down, he stopped where I could hear a faint sound.
Barrett had caught up with us, and she fell to her knees and dug into the gritty earth until the silver case of the small cell phone caught a glint of sunlight. She fumbled with the phone, for an instant stroking its slick silver casing as if it were the sleek silver hair of Ramona.
"It's Mona's," Barrett said. Hearing the glacially wicked Ramona Mathers referred to with such endearment and by her apparent nickname made me suddenly sad that occasion
ally we have to see someone through another's eyes to understand them.
There on her knees in the dirt in the sunlight, holding the last item that might ever be found of Ramona Mathers, Barrett made me feel as if I'd interrupted a church service. Callie and I looked away to give her a moment to collect herself.
"So if Little Horse is such a good guy, why is her phone out here, buried?" I whispered to Callie, who shook her head as if she wondered that too. "Okay, she left her cell phone on, which means she's trying to help us find her and she hasn't been gone very long from here, because it's still got juice," I said, trying to change the mood. Sobbing over Ramona wasn't going to help anyone.
"Look," Callie nearly whispered, and pointed to a faint plume of smoke maybe half a mile from us if we proceeded in the southeasterly direction we were already headed. "That could be them. They might not have gotten very far."
We jogged back to the car, and I helped Elmo into the backseat. "You're a smart dog, Elmo," I said to him, not caring if Barrett heard me talking to my dog. "Other dogs might not have realized the importance of that sound, but you hung in there, and I'm proud you're my hound or, better said, that you've allowed me to be your owner."
I waited for any smart remarks from Barrett and glanced in the rearview mirror to see the expression on her face, but she was staring out of the car window intent on the plume of smoke, her long, languid arm draped over Elmo, snuggled up against her side. I took Callie's hand, wondering if she had opened me up to greater possibilities in people.
Driving slowly, trying to kick up as little dust as possible, I pulled the car about two hundred feet from the fire. We got out, this time leaving Elmo inside with the windows cracked. His feet were rough from the stickers and the hot ground, and he was sagging physically. Like most hounds he was good in short bursts and after that he needed a nap.
"Don't let anybody in the car. We'll be back."
We closed the car doors quietly. We must have all intuitively known whatever was on the other side of that fire was a turning point.
Checking to see that I had my gun with me, tucked into my jacket pocket, I led the way across the sand. On the backside of a tiny rise of sagebrush and shrubbery a small fire burned, and seated next to it, her back to us, was Manaba. My body, geared for confrontation, relaxed, and my mind was disappointed.
"She's not here," Manaba said to us without looking around to see who "us" was.
"Where is she?" Callie asked.
"With the man whose whereabouts I do not know."
"We found her cell phone so she was here," Barrett said.
"We are all here." Manaba's voice held a tinge of ennui. "The end is spoken of in the ashes of the fire."
"And the beginning is found in the flames of desire." The voice above us spoke evenly, startling me and I assumed everyone, except Manaba, who seemed to be expecting Luther Drake.
"Our grandmother used to say that." His voice was quiet like thunder in the distance, rumbling low before it bursts upon you in deafening booms.
"She used to say many knowing things, Yiska." Manaba sounded almost wistful.
"She taught them to us both."
It was as if they didn't know we were there or that our presence was insignificant in this drama.
"Great teachers give the message to all. The student is transformed by the knowledge according to his own desire," Manaba replied.
"My desire was to be with you," he said.
"Your desire was to own my power."
And those were the words that ignited Luther Drake like an incendiary device. He leapt from his perch above our heads and seemed to fly across the small expanse of sand, landing within inches of her. She never flinched but looked up into his eyes as he yanked her to her feet.
"I know where Little Horse is. Therefore, I know where she is, and I am going there now to finish what you could not. No one comes between us. We were raised together. We are of one mind, one understanding, one knowledge, and one power."
"We are none of those things. You broke that power when you killed Kai. You made everyone believe she killed herself because she was jealous of my love for you, when it was you who were jealous of my love for her. You will not kill again."
Luther Drake's smile was diabolic and his low laugh like the sound of tectonic plates grinding together before the earth's upheaval, and like the suddenness of a quake, Luther Drake grabbed Manaba by her hair with his powerful left hand.
"My desires will be fulfilled!"
I aimed my gun at his leg, the only place I could get a clean shot, and was seconds from pulling the trigger when he flung his right arm toward me and let out a high-pitched scream, a duplicate of his graveside visit. The mere gesture knocked the gun from my hand, nearly breaking my wrist, his hand not even near mine.
I clutched my wrist and moaned, wondering how he'd managed to get in such an intense blow with a single non-contact shot.
Summoning strength beyond anything I'd imagined she possessed, Callie shouted, "Luther Drake, the universe severs the bond that binds you to this woman!" She swung her arm up over her head and down with the force of an ax onto his wrist, and Luther winced and weakened his grip on Manaba.
He spun and glared at Callie. Infuriated by her words, he slammed his forearm into her chest.
I screamed as she sagged to the ground, fearful a blow of that magnitude could have altered her heart rhythm, or at the very least have broken her ribs. Despite the attack, she appeared to be breathing steadily, and dragging her to safety wasn't an option because Luther had regained his composure. He flung Manaba to her knees, apparently prepared to kill her.
My gun gone and my wrist seemingly paralyzed, I jumped him and clamped my teeth onto his ear in a Tyson-like move designed to rip it from his head, and my onslaught produced a deafening howl. Suddenly, I was writhing on the ground as if I'd been run over by an eighteen-wheeler, and Callie rolled over and clutched me to her. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Barrett backhanded by a blow from Luther, who was bleeding from the side of his head, the result of his murderous attempts.
Manaba, seeming to resurrect, rocket-launched herself on Luther and grabbed him by the throat, making me believe that very powerful spiritual battles begin close to where the Word emanates. Luther whirled and clamped both of his large hands around her neck, and I feared it was over for her. Although large for a woman, she came nowhere close to the kind of drug-induced strength he exhibited.
"Luther, putrid seed of a rapist.. .defiler of Indian women!" She croaked the words as if they would be her last.
My mind was awash in words and images—Cy Blackstone raped Manaba’s aunt and Luther was the result?
Luther's hands tightened on her neck until she appeared lifeless. I staggered to my feet and threw myself at him at about the same time that Callie and Barrett joined me, all of us screaming for him to let Manaba go.
Instantly, a windstorm blew in out of nowhere and swirled what seemed like dump-truck loads of sand around us, and Luther Drake began to choke along with the rest of us, who covered our mouths and retreated. Angry over the unexpected force of nature, he seemed about to explode out of his body.
The air crackled, electricity flew above our heads, and while I was trying to determine the cause of the fireworks, flames flared above us. Then, as if caught up in the seething storm, Luther and Manaba bent and twisted and coiled around each other, flashing hotter from red to white, then flew apart and back together.
"Get away!" Callie warned, towing both Barrett and me farther from the fight as the air filled with electricity and the two adversaries sagged to the ground, still gripping one another's throat. Then suddenly they fell over, as if they were both dead.
"Good God," Barrett yelled as earth scorched next to her. We watched, mouths agape, trembling, and I occasionally glanced down at the two apparently dead people whose fighting had started an unnatural attack.
"Earth, wind, fire, and now water," Callie said, loud enough for me to hear. Thunder rolled ac
ross the sky, lightning cracked, and a torrential rain forced us to take cover or drown.
"Stay away from the metal vehicle!" As I spoke, I dragged Callie and Barrett back up onto the hillside where Luther Drake had first appeared.
A roar unlike any I'd ever heard began up in the hills, and while I was trying to decide what was approaching, a river of water barreled our way, a desert flash flood, a torrent washing past us and then over the bodies below. The edges of the newly formed stream lapped alongside Manaba, covering the right half her body. But the water engulfed Luther Drake and, as it intensified, flopped him over facedown and swept him along the desert floor like a maniacal Moses.
Callie ran to Manaba and held her head in her hands, telling her to wake up, she was alive. Manaba's eyes rolled into awareness.
"Luther?" Manaba asked.
"You thought earth but water claimed him," Callie said.
Callie asked me to get her some water from the Jeep so I jogged over and grabbed a bottle out of the backseat, quickly filling Elmo in.
"I don't know what the hell's going on, but I can assure you that you're in the best spot." Elmo whined, letting me know he was still nervous.
On the jog back, I rang Wade. Reception was poor, but I managed to get in that we'd found Ramona's phone but she wasn't there. Wade said she had to have turned it off to preserve the signal strength, which meant she'd gone with the Indian willingly and then gotten in trouble later and turned the phone back on. I wasn't sure I agreed with that theory, but told him I'd call him as soon as I knew anything.
I dashed back to Callie, where she and Barrett were making Manaba comfortable while Barrett grilled her, trying to find out what she knew of Ramona's whereabouts. However, Manaba insisted she knew nothing.
Distraught that we had obtained the latitude and longitude of Ramona's cell phone but hadn't found her, Barrett stroked the silver phone and sat silent.