Tularosa Moon

by Stacey Coverstone

  “Are the guests far behind?” Luz asked. She was calmly leaning against the counter ready to serve supper.

  “They should be up in a few minutes,” Dalton replied. He moved toward Lindy and twisted his mustache between his fingers. “T.J. and I are taking the five remaining guests to a rodeo tonight. It’s being held at a ranch down the road. Would you like to come?”

  She sighed. “A rodeo sounds fun, but I already have plans. Thanks for asking though.” Between needing to talk to Cole, anxious about not having reached Griffin earlier, and still feeling on edge about the uneasiness she’d experienced this afternoon, her mind was way too scattered to mingle.

  “No problem.” Dalton ducked his head looking disappointed. Then he scooted out a chair at the table and plopped onto it.

  “Will you and Luz excuse me a minute?” Lindy said, deciding to call Griffin again before supper. She hurried down the hall, closed the office door behind her, and dialed his number. When the voice mail message droned in her ear again, she hung up and began to tremble. This could not be good. Griffin had always been there for her.

  Her head swam, wondering what to do next. Remembering that he’d given her a toll-free number to use in an emergency, she sprinted up the stairs and retrieved the slip of paper with the number written on it from the inside pocket of her wallet and returned to the office. This was an emergency.

  Lindy tapped her nails on the top of the desk waiting for someone to pick up. One ring. Two. Three. Four. When a woman finally answered, Lindy willed her voice not to shake. “Hello. May I speak to Griffin please?”

  After a long pause, the woman said, “Who’s calling?”

  Lindy didn’t trust anyone but Griffin. But he’d given her this number when she’d first joined the program. Maybe he was sick, or… Or what? Had something terrible happened to him? She had no idea why he wasn’t answering her calls. Surely, this woman could help. Lindy bit the inside of her mouth, debating. “Is Griffin available?” she repeated.

  “Who is calling?”

  Lindy’s throat turned dry. “Lindy Grainger.”

  “Hold please.”

  After waiting for what seemed like forever, the feminine voice returned to the line. “I’m sorry, but we have no Lindy Grainger in our database.”

  “What? That can’t be.” With her pulse beginning to race, Lindy said, “Where is Griffin?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t give you any further information.”

  “Wait! Don’t hang up.” Lindy bent her head and clutched her rolling stomach.

  “Are you still there, ma’am?” the voice asked.

  Lindy snapped her head up. “Yes. I’m here. Please tell me how I can reach Griffin,” she blurted. “He’s the federal marshal who has been assigned to me for the past three years. I need to speak to him immediately.”

  Another silence. And then, “I’m also a federal marshal, ma’am. I can assist you. What is your location?”

  “I can’t tell you,” Lindy replied, doing what Griffin had always recommended. Do not give away your location.

  “What’s your name?” Lindy asked.

  “I’m not allowed to disclose that information.”

  “Griffin gave me this number. Why am I unable to reach him? Is he all right?”

  “I’m not allowed to disclose that information.” The woman on the other end of the line sounded like a robot. “We don’t have a Lindy Grainger in our database,” she repeated. “Are there other aliases you’ve used? I can look them up and perhaps then I can help you.”

  Should she trust this woman? Lindy licked her lips and internally argued with herself. Feeling she had no option, she finally said, “Try Amy Whealdon.”

  “No Amy Whealdon,” the woman replied a moment later.

  “What about Rebecca Barlow?”

  Through the phone, Lindy could hear the tapping of the woman’s nails as they skated across her keyboard. “No Rebecca Barlow.”

  Lindy’s chest tightened like a vice. “Try Joy Elliott,” she muttered, clenching and unclenching her fist.

  “No—”

  Before the woman could finish, Lindy clicked off the phone and held her head in her hands. None of her aliases were in the government’s database? Nor her real name? How could that be? What did it mean? Why in hell wouldn’t that woman tell her where Griffin was? Lindy slammed her fist onto the desk, imagining the worse.

  In the other room, she heard laughter and the raised voices of the guests arriving for supper. After the meal was over, she’d try Griffin’s number one more time. But right now, she had a job to do. Determined not to let her imagination carry her away, she took some steadying breaths and blasted out of the office with a fake smile pasted on her face.

  “Oof!” Her body plowed into hard muscle. The scent of heat and male sweat swirled into her nostrils. Cole’s surprised gaze met hers.

  “I’m sorry, Lindy. I didn’t expect to run into you here.” He glanced around her shoulder, maybe expecting to see Ella inside the office. “Did I hurt you?”

  She shoved a strand of flyaway hair behind her ear. “No. I’m fine. Your mom’s still upstairs if you’re looking for her. I was making a phone call.”

  His response was entirely different from the first conversation they’d had about her using the office phone. “You can use the office phone anytime you’d like,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Are you sure you’re okay? Your face is pale. Are you getting sick?”

  “I’m fine,” she repeated. “I think everyone’s here for supper. Excuse me. I need to join them.”

  “Sure.” He released her and she stepped past him, forcing a smile she didn’t feel. “Are you staying?” she asked, as an afterthought.

  He shook his head and pointed at his dirty clothes. “I’m hot and sweaty. I came to check on Mom, and then I’m going home to shower and change. I’ll grab something quick to eat and come back here. If that’s okay with you.”

  She needed to talk to him, but it wasn’t going to happen tonight. She couldn’t concentrate on anything until she spoke to Griffin.

  “We can sit in the garden and enjoy the evening,” he said in a gentle tone. The tick in his jaw was proof that he sensed something was up. “We don’t have to go back to my place tonight.”

  Desperate to flee from his penetrating stare, Lindy dismissed him in more of a curt manner than she would have, if she weren’t in panic mode. “All right. I’ll see you later.” With that, she marched into the dining room, greeted everyone, and took her place at the table. From the corner of her eye, she saw him stroll upstairs.

  Not much later, her gaze followed Cole as he descended the staircase and left out the front door without looking her way.

  ****

  Cole drove home with his mind wandering in confusion. What had been up with Lindy? She’d acted nervous and aloof. Did she regret making love with him? He hoped not.

  Maybe something else was bothering her. Maybe Dalton had made another pass. He’d have to set that cowpoke straight if he didn’t leave her alone.

  Cole’s ruminations were interrupted when he came to a four-way stop and waved at the man in another truck before proceeding through the intersection.

  Look at me, he mused. Despite every intention not to, he’d fallen in love with Lindy. Making love to her last night and again this morning had confirmed that they were meant to be together—at least for a short run.

  Ever since he’d discovered girls at the age of twelve, falling in love had come easily—and often. But after Rachel, he knew better than to count his chickens before the eggs were hatched. That revelation had hit him in the middle of his chest this afternoon while working. It had come as a surprise, but it was a revelation that had him sighing with relief. A burden had been lifted from his shoulders with the knowledge that his life was great, with or without the love of a special woman.

  Though the road had sometimes seemed long and winding, he’d finally come to learn that nothing was set in stone. Not
life. Not love. The most important thing was to show love every day to those you cared for. Because you never knew when the opportunity to do so would be taken away. His mom, and all she’d lost, was a solemn reminder of that.

  He pulled into the driveway of his house and cut off the motor. Tired from a long day of work in the hot sun, he sauntered to the door and fished the keys from his pocket. As he unlocked the door, he glanced up at the sky. The moon was a light silver crescent, hanging as if by a thread. In a couple of hours, that moon would be surrounded by a purple sky and a blanket of white stars.

  Could Lindy be the woman he’d been waiting all his life for? Or would she eventually leave, too? Although his gut hinted that caution was still in order, he had a good feeling about her—about them. More than that, it pleased him to realize he’d learned an important lesson. Even if this didn’t work out with her, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

  ****

  Skin entered the Tularosa town limits at six-thirty in the evening. After driving eighteen hours straight from California to New Mexico, adrenaline was pounding through his veins. This moment had been so long in coming. He was anxious to get the job done and then go into hiding until the air cleared. For, by now, every law enforcement agency around the country was probably on the lookout for him.

  He turned off the highway and aimed the car down the country road. By all calculations, the Painted Pony Ranch was a few miles outside of town. His foot felt like lead pressing down on the gas pedal. He’d escaped prison and made it this far without any trouble. All the plotting and dreaming could well be ruined if a police car stopped him now for a speeding offense. He might even have to kill a cop if that happened. There was no time for that kind of distraction.

  While letting up on the gas, Skin’s heart began to beat hard in his chest with anticipation. He glanced at the glove compartment where his gun was stashed. It was loaded, but one bullet would be all it’d take to accomplish his mission. And the sooner it found its way into her brain, the better.

  Once the ranch sign came into view, Skin looked around and decided to hide the car in a patch of trees across the road. He sat for twenty minutes waiting and scoping out the area. From all accounts, this part of the country was isolated and the road not traveled much. He flipped open the glove compartment and pulled out the nine-millimeter gun and attached the silencer onto the end. It was now or never.

  Just as he cracked open the door and started to step outside the car, two pickup trucks came rambling down the drive and through the gate. He ducked back inside and peeked over the dashboard, watching as the trucks turned left and headed toward town. Although her face had been permanently etched in his mind, from this vantage point, there was no way of telling whether Joy Elliott was a passenger in one of the trucks. He’d caught sight of several women as the trucks had driven by, but hadn’t seen their features well.

  There was no way of knowing if she was still at the ranch without seeing for himself. With nerves humming, his long legs swung out of the car. Skin shoved the gun into the waistband of his pants, looked both ways to ensure there were no vehicles coming from either direction, and sprinted across the road. At his height, and with movements as stealthy as a cougar and as quick as a flighty deer, his footsteps ate up the space between the road and the ranch in no time.

  With ragged breath, he passed by a herd of horses in a field and hid at the corner of a wooden cabin. After several minutes, his sharpened skills of observation and keen sense of awareness assured him that the lower part of the ranch was deserted. He quietly crept to the barn and stepped inside. The whinny of a horse in a nearby stall startled him.

  An open window in an empty stall gave him the perfect view of the front of the house up on the hill. Patiently, he waited, with his gaze locked on the house for any sign of movement.

  Finally, the front door opened and a fat Mexican broad stepped out. A large purse was hanging from her shoulder. She began waddling down the walk to a car parked at what looked like a hitching post. Before she climbed into the car, she looked up at the house and waved to someone standing inside the front door.

  Skin’s gaze narrowed and zoomed in on the house. When the person in the doorway stepped out of the shadows onto the stoop and returned a wave, he sucked in a deep breath. The petite woman with long dark hair may have fooled those incompetents he called his brothers. But even with a new look, he’d know her anywhere.

  He reached for the gun and waited for the Mexican to drive away.

  Twenty-Nine

  The moment Luz drove away, Lindy closed the door and hurried into Ella’s office. She dialed Griffin’s number one more time and heard the same voice message.

  “Something’s definitely wrong,” she said aloud. She spun the office chair around to face the laptop sitting on the desk. Knowing she should ask permission from Ella before touching it, her fingertips nevertheless poised above the keyboard. Ella hadn’t come out of her room all day, so obviously, she still felt ill. And this was an emergency.

  Lindy touched one of the keys and the screen awoke from its sleep state. But a password was still needed to get to the home page.

  “I’m sorry for going through your private files, Ella,” Lindy whispered, “but I have to get into your computer, and I have no time to waste. I hope you forgive me.”

  Since Ella was at the age where forgetfulness was common, Lindy hoped she had written her password down somewhere. She slid open the thin desk drawer that held pens, paperclips, a calculator, and other office supplies and scoured inside for any clue as to what the password might be. There were no pieces of paper with writing on them.

  After searching through the hanging files in another drawer and coming up short, Lindy moved to the next drawer. Her eyes opened wide when she spied an envelope with the word computer printed on the outside. The envelope flap was not sealed. Her fingers delved inside and she pulled out a slip of paper. Hopefully, the combination of letters and numbers written in Ella’s hand would add up to her password. Lindy typed them in and the home page opened.

  “Thank God,” she breathed. After quickly maneuvering to the Google page, she typed the words Steven Neal + California State Prison into the search engine. Leaning close to the screen, Lindy’s stomach clenched like she’d been punched when several links popped up. She clicked on the first one. After her gaze swept over the article, she felt her shoulders grow rigid.

  “He’s escaped. I knew my bad feeling was real.” The article said he’d most likely broken out last night. It was just after six p.m. now. She quickly tried to calculate how long it would take someone to travel from Sacramento to New Mexico, but her brain was still trying to comprehend the news. That murderer has escaped! The memory of his threat of hunting her down and killing her rocked her hard.

  Swallowing down dizzying nausea, Lindy bolted up from the chair and stumbled out of the office. Her heart pounded with a rhythm to match her footsteps as she hurried up the wooden stairs to her room. Once inside, she flung open the dresser drawers and began stuffing her clothes into her bags. Packing didn’t take long.

  Tears sprang to her eyes as she scribbled a note on a scratch piece of paper to Ella. In it she begged her forgiveness for leaving without explanation and for putting her in a bind. She also asked her to tell Cole goodbye.

  Lindy wished there was more she could say to these good people, but there was no time. Skin could be on his way to her right now. She didn’t know how he’d find her, or when, but she knew he would. His gang had found her twice before. Not being able to reach Griffin made it even more critical for her to leave as fast as possible.

  She had no idea where she’d go. Leaving town immediately was her only plan. She flung her purse over her shoulder and wiped her damp face with the sleeve of her shirt.

  Her gaze latched onto Ella’s bedroom door while she tiptoed down the hall carrying her bags. There was no noise coming from inside. She quietly walked down the stairs and took one last look around the great room before squeaking
open the front door and stepping outside.

  While scurrying down the hill toward the barn where her car was parked, her toe caught on something and she fell. The sound she expelled at smashing her knee on the ground seemed to echo throughout the uninhabited ranch. Grimacing after realizing she’d wrenched her knee, she picked herself up, hauled her bags into her arms again, and limped to the barn.

  When she reached her car, she dropped the bags on the ground and dug into her purse for her keys. As her hand fished around inside, she heard a movement in the barn.

  “Dalton? T.J.?” she called out instinctively. Then she remembered everyone had gone to the rodeo. With trembling fingers, she snatched the car keys from the bottom of her purse and unlocked the Ford. Her knee was throbbing with an agonizing burn as she dumped the bags into the back seat. Quietly, she closed the back door, opened the driver’s side door and tossed her purse onto the passenger seat.

  When a nicker came from the barn, Lindy’s head swung that way. I thought all the horses were in the field. Her mind searched back, and she recalled seeing Sandy put a gelding in the barn the other day. He had told her the horse had cut his hoof and needed stall rest for a while.

  With a final glance toward the miniature donkeys that were standing at the fence staring at her through big round eyes, Lindy ducked inside the car.

  The alarming sound of the horse in sudden distress reached her ears before she closed the car door. She swung her legs out of the vehicle and listened. The horse cried out. Then a strange and terrifying explosion of air assaulted her ears.

  “Oh, my God,” she said, exiting the car. While trying not to put pressure on her knee, she shuffled into the barn, wondering what had happened. Upon entering, she immediately heard a gurgling noise and smelled the stench of hot blood. “What in the…?”

  Pinching her nose to shut out the putrid smell of fresh blood, she hobbled to the far end of the barn. When she peeked over the stall door, her hand flew to her mouth. Lying on the blood-soaked straw floor was the gelding. His side had been raggedly slashed open. The poor animal moaned one last breath, shuddered, and died in front of her eyes.