by Marta Acosta
“This is not a discussion I want to have with my brother.”
He thumped his chest and belched. “If you change your mind... So are you and Kenzie planning to be spinsters here, or are you gals seeing anyone?”
“She has a boyfriend, Christopher. He’s a hydraulic engineer.”
“A whoza whatzit?”
“Engineering work up at the hydroelectric plant,” I said, because it seemed quite likely.
“One of the frackers?”
“If you’re talking about hydraulic fracturing for natural gas, we don’t have it here.”
“Not yet. If Kenzie gets married, this Christopher dude will want a piece of the pie,” he said. “Things will get complicated. It doesn’t take a fortune teller to know he’s not going to want you glomming onto Baby Girl. Something to think about.”
“You’ve been away too long. You know what California is like in terms of environmental regulations. Fracking may pass initial legislation, but any and all activity will be in limbo for years. This isn’t Monterey County, where extraction in shale is a simple process.”
“Word at the Ring-A-Bell is the energy companies are looking here.”
“Everyone at the Ring-A-Bell thinks they can get rich while staying high all day,” I said. “The mountains here are the result of volcanic activity. Even global warming deniers don’t want to die in a quake or be buried in molten lava. Or both.”
“You always worry about shit that never happens. Like how you were scared someone was going to bury you alive if you fell into a deep sleep.”
“It’s a common phobia.”
“Oh? I thought it was one of your tricks to stay the center of attention even when you weren’t awake.”
“Back to the topic of fracking in Coyote Run—it isn’t going to happen. Ever. All the people who are buying parcels and hoping to cash in would have better luck at the casino.”
He waved off my words like waving off a bee. “Dawg and I are heading there tonight. You want to come?”
“I’m very busy.”
“With your boyfriend? Or girlfriend? Or are you going to watch some lame space monster movie?”
“I’m busy not throwing my money away on a losing proposition.”
“And that’s why talking to you is always such a pleasure, Mad. Okay, well...” He stood up, stretched so that his shirt rose up over his hairy belly, and walked out of the room.
I washed the dishes as fast as I could, which meant scrubbing the cast iron skillet with Ajax. On my hurried walk back to the center, I phoned Kenzie and left a message saying, “I have to talk to you. I need to talk to you.”
“HE LIKES TO PUSH YOUR buttons, and you’re covered in buttons,” Kenzie said when she came by the center later.
I was working with Heidi II, who curled her lip until she was surprised by the tap of my heel against her hindquarters. “Kenz, I know Raymond gets a charge out of making me react. Everything he says is so calculated. Ha-ha, it’s just a joke! He said forty-thousand was all he ever wanted and the ranch was ours. We should have hired a lawyer because I don’t know if a notarized agreement will stand up in court.”
“We couldn’t afford a lawyer and it wouldn’t have mattered because Raymond was always going to come back for more.”
“I finally paid the bills, so I can show my face in the feed store again. He’s going to take the money from the Special sessions and your consulting and it still won’t be enough. He’ll be squeezing us for money until the day he dies.”
“Yes, but I’d rather buy him off than have him move in. If we kick the can down the road, he’ll disappear for another year. Try to hang on and I’ll see what I can do to speed his departure, okay?”
I nodded.
“Thanks,” she said. “Hey, there’s a meteor shower tonight. Do you want to come and watch it with us?”
I didn’t know if us referred to Raymond or Christopher. “I’ll see.”
“Which means ‘no.’ Just say no.”
“No.”
“Wasn’t that easy?” she said. “I don’t know if this makes things better or worse, but Christopher’s coming to dinner on Monday.”
“Raymond thinks Christopher is after our fracking rights.”
“Christopher earns a good living. He’s dating down,” she said. “Also, next to Raymond, you can say and do absolutely anything and Chris will think you’re delightful.”
“I am delightful.”
“In your own way.” When my sister leaned toward me, Heidi II’s fur went up, and I did another quick correction, and Kenzie said, “Please tell me someone’s paying for this beast’s training.”
“It will probably be a barter between professionals. Ben Meadows is interested in her as an SAR dog. She exhibits terrific potential.”
BY 8:00 PM, HEIDI II accepted that it wouldn’t be a good idea to take on the entire pack. By 10:00 pm, she was ambling calmly on a night walk with Bertie, Zeus, Ghost, and the Things. A pearly three-quarter moon glowed over the fields and by 11:00 p.m. I accepted that I had hurt the woman I loved, that I was responsible for the break-up.
I took the dogs to a clearing, and stared into the sky. In a few minutes, a silvery meteor soared across the blackness. My heart filled as I stood on this blue planet, reflecting the sun’s light as we revolved through inconceivably vast space. Because a thing can be measured, but never fully comprehended. Because the very inconceivability of something as grand as a solar system, a galaxy, gave perspective to my infinitesimally brief existence.
Chapter 17
I WOKE EARLY, FED THE dogs, hosed down the kennels, and changed into clean jeans. When I went to the house, Raymond’s junker wasn’t parked where it had been, so I guessed he’d picked up someone at the casino or the Ring-A-Bell for company.
I made peanut-butter and jam sandwiches, sliced them into halves, and put them in an insulated lunch bag. I took a thermos of coffee, juice, and cups to the center. Bertie looked hopefully at the bag, so we shared a sandwich.
I left him inside the exercise yard with the others, saying, “You’re yard monitor, Bertie. Let’s make a good first impression. I didn’t mean to imply that you don’t. It really is me, not you. You’re all things excellent.”
I pulled weeds on the outside of the chain link fence while I waited for the trainer. Raymond’s car turned onto our drive and continued past the house to park on the asphalt pad near my center. My brother, wearing the same stained clothes, almost tumbled out.
Go away! “Hey, Ray. You’re up early.”
“Haven’t been to bed yet.” His movements were balletic, one foot lightly placed before the other, his bulk precariously balanced above. He brushed back his messy russet mass of hair like a model smoothing stray locks. “What are you doing out here, Mad girl? Don’t you take weekends off?”
“Dogs don’t have a concept of weekends. I’ve got a trainer coming in to coach us on search and rescue.”
Raymond stepped toward me and I stepped back, hitting the eight foot chain link gate. “You could do a search and rescue for Dad. He’s easy enough to find if you cared, but maybe you don’t since you’re the one who drove him away. He’s in Eugene, Oregon. Been there for ten years, married to a nice physician’s assistant.”
I could smell Raymond’s boozy sweat, see veins jigsaw-puzzling his eyes, and hear whistling exhalations from a nose busted too many times.
“I don’t want to talk about Dad with you now.” I reached back, fumbling for the fork latch on the gate, and touching only the cold diamond-shaped links.
“What do you want to do? Want to play the tickle game?”
“No, Raymond!” I said, but he’d already spread his large hand across my collarbone, pinning me to the fence.
He arched his body away from me, out of range as I kicked and threw out my fists. Laughing, he reached his free hand to my face and delicately grazed his fingertips along my cheek.
His touch burned and corrupted, and I struggled to break free. He said, “Tic
kle, tickle, tickle,” and I shrieked, “Let me go, goddamn you!” and the dogs barked and Bertie threw himself against the gate.
I was screaming, “I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you, Raymond!” and my eyes were blinded by tears from the agony.
Suddenly he jerked away and I was free. I wiped my eyes so I could see what had happened.
Oliver stood behind Raymond, yanking his arm up high behind his back, and Raymond was bent over, shouting, “What the fuck!”
“Your turn, Maddie,” Oliver said. “Take a punch. Take two.”
I trembled for long seconds considering the opportunity while Raymond winced and Oliver watched. I unclenched my hands. “He’s my brother, Sheriff. Let him go.”
“You sure?” Oliver shoved upward on Raymond’s arm, and my brother grunted in pain, which I appreciated.
“No, but let him go anyway.”
“Some brother. Get the hell out of here.” Oliver exhaled loudly, pivoted my brother away from me, and then shoved him so hard anyone else would have fallen.
Raymond teetered his arms, regaining his balance, and then smiled as he rubbed his shoulder. “Aw, I was just horsing around. I’d never hurt her. We were playing the tickle game, right, Big Sis?” His smile was wide, showing stained dangerous teeth.
“Get out of here!”
Raymond shrugged ostentatiously, with an added flap of his arms, making me want to tackle him. Then he turned and walked away whistling “Achy-Breaky Heart.”
I hated him and I hated him and I hated him, all the while cognizant of my own role in making him the nasty piece of work he was now.
“So I’m sheriff when it’s convenient for you.”
I was shaking too much to answer, bending at the waist, about to fall onto the ground and curl into a ball, when Oliver grabbed my hand and said, “Run!”
He pulled me along, my steps unsteady, and into the fields. I was too confused to do anything but try to stay upright, watching the ground for gopher holes and rocks as I worked to keep up with his long legs. The second I dropped back, his strong hand squeezed mine tighter. And then I was striding beside him, air filling my lungs, the dewy grasses glittering in the morning light.
We reached the boulders by the pond and Oliver let go of my hand. “Watch for rattlers sunning.”
I caught my breath and said, “Why were we running?”
“Isn’t that your advice? Focusing your attention in the now and forward? What was going on with your brother?”
“Ugly sibling BS. You didn’t have to save me.”
“Maddie, make up your mind. We’re either a pack or we’re not. If we are, then I’ve got your back and you damn well better have mine if I need it. Is that what you meant about light touches?”
“My body’s miswired, my brain gets the message that I’m being burned, or cut. It’s like...I can’t describe it.”
“You put up a good fight, but I can teach you to fight dirty,” he said in a low tone.
“How?”
“Use anything you can grab. A handful of dirt in someone’s eyes, a stick to the solar plexus, a kick to the nuts.”
And then a mud-splattered green truck came down the drive, and the dogs at the center set up an alarm. The SAR expert, Franklin Montoya arrived. He was brown and tough as sun-dried jerky and wore camo cargo pants and a boonie hat smashed on his head. His dog Valentine was a glossy silver Weimaraner.
Oliver’s phone buzzed and he said, “Sorry, gotta take this,” and strolled out of hearing. I fetched Zeus and Bertie from my center and introduced them to the Weimaraner. When Oliver returned, I said, “Anyone want coffee before we leave?”
Oliver passed and Franklin said, “I gave it up fifteen years ago. No one wants an endodontist with jittery hands.”
“And I thought you lived in a cabin in the wilderness,” Oliver said. “That was Tessa Carozzo on the phone. Phineas went on a bike ride early this morning, planning to return in the evening. She’s been trying to get in touch with him because of an irrigation system problem. He hasn’t answered, which wouldn’t ordinarily be a cause for concern, but we could use this as our exercise.”
“Why are those names familiar?” Franklin asked.
Oliver filled him in and said, “He sent Tessa a photo of meadowlark on a fence at eight-forty-five.”
“Maybe he’s ignoring her calls,” I said.
“No, they’re both still spooked,” Oliver said. “The photo showed a road marker about three miles out.”
“Then we’ll start at least 500 yards before that,” Franklin said. “Always start ahead of the last known sighting so you can approach without interfering with the smells.”
As we were getting into Franklin’s truck, I said to Oliver, “How do you know what a meadowlark is?”
“Meadowlark Lemon. Easy to remember.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Get in the truck.”
We stopped at the Carozzos first to collect a clothing sample from Tessa, whose blond hair made me think of the white bone, the checked cloth, the coins. I clenched and opened my hands several times, knowing I’d never take a shortcut through the lavender fields again.
The marker was on a side road that ran parallel to the highway. Horses grazed in meadows nearby. We took the dogs out and I rubbed Bertie’s back, watching Zeus’s excitement at seeing Oliver. “He likes you, Olly.”
“Yeah.” Oliver scratched Zeus behind his ears. “He’s okay.”
Franklin said, “A bike can gain ground quickly so this is where we’re going to trade off tracking and one of us will follow in the truck, giving each dog a chance to rest.”
Franklin and Oliver took the first shift. I followed in the truck, keeping about 20 yards behind, and watching as the dogs trotted along the edge of the paving. Zeus had filled out and his coat was beginning to shine. When the odometer ticked up 1.5 miles, Oliver switched places with me.
Franklin gave me tracking advice and instruction, once grinning my way and saying, “Damn good dog. K-9 troop?”
“At one time.” Then Bertie abruptly jagged to the middle of the road, stopped and sat. I saw a small pile of crushed plastic. “It’s a phone.”
Oliver pulled over to the side of the road. “Try not to disturb anything,” he said. “I don’t see any tire skid marks, but look for broken glass or plastic, blood, anything to indicate an accident.”
We walked in a spiral, spreading out, focused on the ground, but we only found the usual detritus thrown out car windows and blown in by evening gusts. Then Zeus darted off the road, practically taking Oliver off his feet. Oliver scrambled after Zeus into a thicket of scrub bushes and I thought, No, please, not Phin, as we followed. Flies buzzed in my ears or in my mind, I couldn’t tell, and I pushed through the brush.
Oliver stood by a bike hidden in the bushes.
“Any sign of Phin?”
“No. This is as far as Zeus goes before wanting to return to the road,” Ollie said. “Someone gave Phin a ride, but I don’t see signs of a struggle. If he left his bike, the vehicle wasn’t large enough to carry it or didn’t have a rack.”
“Could this be connected with Sherry Rae?”
“Impossible to say.” Oliver looked off down the road, bordered by golden fields. “Franklin, what do we do now?”
“Bertie’s a trailing dog, so let’s let him rest in the truck. Zeus and Valentine can try to follow the scent out windows or vents.”
I drove at a snail’s pace with Bertie sitting up front with me as the men set off with the younger dogs that zigzagged catching the trace as it drifted on the slight breeze. I leaned forward as if it would make us all go faster. Because the killer was out there. Because Sherry Rae had left the casino in daylight, too.
It was 1:40 now and my stomach ached with hunger and nerves. We’d turned off this primary road to a series of backroads miles past the edge of town. The day had grown warm, making the trail harder to follow. Oliver frequently wiped his brow, and Franklin pulled
off his hat to fan his face. The dogs were so excited it was hard to get them to pause to drink water, and they snapped at the stream poured from canteens.
I saw Franklin’s age now in the creases of his face and his weariness. I said, “Let me try with Valentine. If you don’t mind.”
“Am I an old guy, too?”
“Like Bertie, you’re an honored elder.”
Franklin handed me the long lead and I focused on the sleek silver-gray dog and his nimble steps. Oliver’s cheeks were flushed and he moved steadily. We broke through a mass of star thistle blooming yellow, the spines piercing through our clothes, but neither of us cried out. The sky above was as flawless as cobalt glass.
Cars passing us slowed and drivers shouted to us. Oliver told them, “If you see Phin Carozzo up ahead, call me.”
My legs ached, and my arm was heavy from holding Valentine’s lead. The dogs panted. We panted. At a Y in the road, the dogs angled to the right branch. “The Lakeview Cabins Motel,” I said, and we were once again on the highway.
Zeus and Valentine jolted forward, and I let the silver dog propel me the last quarter mile, through the gateway with violet petunias in wine barrels, to a black Audi parked in front of a cabin. The dogs barked and jumped at the door.
In the front window, a curtain moved.
“Maddie and Franklin, let me check this out alone.”
Franklin took the dogs to a bench in the courtyard, but I stayed right behind Oliver. Then the door opened a few inches, and the dogs sat, their job done, because they’d found Phineas Carozzo, who was clad in a neon yellow cycling jersey and shorts. Oliver pulled a tennis ball from his backpack and tossed it to Zeus, sending the dog into paroxysms of joy.
“Hi, Oliver, Maddie,” Phin said. “What are you doing here?”
“Tessa was worried about you. You haven’t called her back and there’s an irrigation problem at your place.”
Phin pivoted, the door easing open enough to let me see a dresser atop which was a nylon case, an open bottle of a wine I recognized, the cabin key and complimentary Ring-A-Bell free drink chips. When Phin reached over and grabbed the case, a single filament of hair shone on the shoulder of his jersey. Phin rummaged through the contents. “My phone’s not here.”