Lucky Ride (The Lucky O'Toole Vegas Adventure Series Book 8)

by Deborah Coonts

  I hit Romeo’s speed dial. When he answered, I started in. “How far are you from the FBO at the airport?”

  “Northwest corner?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Turning in now. I’ve been tracking your flight. Somehow I knew you might want me.”

  “I always want you.” I disconnected before I felt him blush through the phone. Making him blush was great sport, but not now.

  I smiled at my father, a tight evil smile. “How I love it when a plan comes together.” We’d get Mona back or die trying. I didn’t wait for my father to ask me again—the thought train had yet to derail. Getting my bitch on, I worked that in without smiling. “Actually, two things are bothering me. Okay, maybe more. I think it’s a whole cascade, but let’s start with two. Let’s think about how this went down and who the killer is. First off, Turnbull’s death.”

  “He’s taken Mona. Why do you care which one it is? You’ll know soon enough.”

  “Are you sure it’s only one? If we’re doing a Cowboy take on Murder on the Orient Express, it’d be nice to know that going in. No one has an alibi for Dora Bates’s murder, and they all were at the arena when Turnbull died. Why kill Turnbull?”

  “He surprised the killer?”

  “No, too many presumptions. He surprised someone trying to hurt Poppy Beckham’s horse.”

  “That’s not the killer.” It wasn’t a question; he was following.

  “Bear with me here. I think I know who the killer is. But I want you to walk through my thought process with me. The whole thing was about an extortion plot gone bad. Was mother acting strangely before you left?”

  “She was nervous, sure.”

  “Was she doing that evasive thing she does when she’s trying to hide something?”

  “No.”

  I angled a look at him. “Did you get any odd calls?”

  “No more than usual.”

  “Think back. It may have seemed normal at the time.”

  He winced and a muscle in his cheek bulged as he leaned over to extract his phone from his front pants pocket. He scrolled through slowly, breathing hard against the pain as he did so. “I only see one. Local. I didn’t recognize it, so I didn’t answer.”

  I held out my hand for his phone then redialed the number. “How may I direct your call?” I had my answer. “Wrong number, sorry.” But, oh, it was so the right number.

  My father leaned forward. His hope was almost palpable. “I recognize that look.”

  “That number came from the Kasbah.” We had a system that routed outgoing calls through dummy numbers to protect our clientele from redials, and the operators are instructed not to identify the Kasbah when they answer. I double-checked the time and date. “And it came on the same day Dora Bates was murdered.”

  “What time?”

  “Three p.m.”

  “So, she was alive until then?”

  “Maybe. She didn’t leave a message, so we don’t know if Dora Bates made that call. But we do know they wanted to talk to you badly enough to have found your private cell number.”

  “I was her next mark?”

  “I’d bet my soul on it. She registered under the Fiorelli name, knowing that meant something to you and Mother. She and her partner discovered the killer’s secret—he must’ve done something really bad for you to have tried to kill him.”

  My father remained impassive.

  Something about how his gaze drifted from mine… “Or mother…” I narrowed my eyes. “She did it, didn’t she?”

  “Lucky.”

  “Okay, I can wait. I need one more answer.” I texted Flash: Have you found Dr. Dean’s son yet?”

  “Who’s the killer?” A low, hard, demand.

  “Oh, so you get to ask the questions?” As the pilot opened the door and lowered the stairs, I stood, offering him a hand.

  He let me pull him up.

  My phone dinged an answer from Flash. No.

  Bingo.

  Seeing his pain, I relented and slid off my high horse. “Come on. Let’s go see if I’m right.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  AT this time of night and with New Year’s behind us, those who wanted to leave had done so. And with the party over, not too many were flying in, so the FBO was running on a skeleton staff. The kid behind the counter looked far too perky. “Make yourselves at home. You look pretty ragged, if you don’t mind me saying so.” He took in my father’s frailty and the mud-smeared pants. He was wise enough not to overtly include my formerly very nice outfit and righteous shoes. They would never be the same, but neither would I.

  Why couldn’t I discard my baggage as easily as changing clothes?

  As if dressing the outer would redo the inner. A nice idea as long as one’s taste was impeccable.

  I shook my head—I was losing it, and just when focus was so critical.

  Mona needed us.

  I slammed my mind closed to the possibilities and I fought with my need to hurry. But I needed Bethany to tell us where to go. And I needed Romeo and Jeremy…and some answers before we went charging off half-cocked. We weren’t too far behind them.

  With my arm looped through his, I escorted my father down a hall to the pilots’ lounge, depositing him in a recliner, then elevating his feet. The strong aroma drew me to a full pot of coffee on the burner—it looked and smelled fresh. I poured a mug for each of us, mine with milk.

  “Take me through the rest.” Knowing I wasn’t leaving without reinforcements and needing distraction as much as I did, my father blew on his coffee as he eyed me. “So, the guy came to the Babylon and killed Mrs. Bates, then—”

  Romeo skidded into the room, interrupting my father. One glance between us and he said, “Bring me up to speed.”

  I did.

  “So, one killer. That’s consistent with the security video tapes.”

  “What?” I hadn’t seen the tapes from the hotel. “Have you seen the Babylon’s tapes?”

  “Jerry and I were just going through them. I left him when he got the call about Mona and I came here to find you. We found a hooded figure, just like at the rodeo. He was there around the estimated time of Dora’s death.”

  “What time was that?”

  “Time stamp on the tapes was just after three thirty p.m. that afternoon before Turnbull died.”

  I snagged my father’s coffee mug—he’d powered through the brew even though it was barely short of scalding—and stepped to the counter to freshen it. “My father got a call from Bungalow Twelve at around 3 p.m. He didn’t pick up and they didn’t leave a message. I figure Dora’s partner met her there, they called him together, then he killed her. She’d served her usefulness.”

  “She’d given him what he wanted,” Romeo said.

  “Yeah, access to Mona.”

  Romeo didn’t seem surprised. “I knew you and your family were in the middle of this.”

  I started to argue, but that would be a waste of time—time I didn’t have right now. I glanced at my watch—everyone should be arriving momentarily. I put my coffee down and buttoned up my sweater.

  Romeo’s phone rang. He looked at the caller ID. “Beckham? I wonder what he wants?”

  “He’s going to tell you someone stole his pickup.”

  “Yeah, right,” he huffed. “Mr. Beckham, Detective Romeo here.” He listened for a moment, his eyes growing wider as he looked at me.

  “Told you so,” I mouthed at him.

  “I’ll get right on it. I think we know where your truck is.” He disconnected and stared at me. “How did you know?”

  “We gotta go. Let’s go get my mother. Times a wasting.”

  As if on cue, Miss P and Bethany pushed in behind him, with Bethany worming her way to the front.

  The outside door dinged open as I turned toward Bethany. “Where are they now?”

  She’d been staring at her phone. When she looked up, she looked stricken. “I’ve lost them.”

  I pointed to Miss P. “Take Father to the hos
pital, please.” I shifted my glare to my father. Shivers wracked through him; his hands shook. So pale, his skin looked translucent. “No arguing. Do as she says.”

  “I’m more afraid of her than I am of you.”

  A lie, but I let him have it. “Good. Jeremy, can you help her?”

  “You need my help more.”

  “No, we got this.” Next, I pointed to Romeo. “You, come with me. We have a killer to catch and my mother to rescue.”

  “What about me?” Bethany asked, the steel returning to her voice.

  “You stay with Jerry.”

  “No.”

  That killed my momentum. “No?”

  She put her hands behind her back. “I won’t tell you where they got off of the 215 if you don’t let me go.”

  I knew when I faced a superior hand, so I folded. “Okay, you and Romeo come with me.”

  “Anything?” I asked for the hundredth time.

  Bethany shook her head, which I caught in the rearview. “No.”

  Romeo hunched over the steering wheel, his nose almost touching it. “Can you see like that?” We were rocketing around the 215—well, as fast as his bucket-of-bolts squad car could go. “What kind of cop car is this? Can’t you go any faster?”

  “This is a detective’s car and I’m flooring it.”

  Clearly, detectives had no need for speed.

  “They got off at Charleston heading west,” Bethany shouted as we hurtled toward the exit.

  Barely slowing, Romeo steered into the turn.

  “Too fast!”

  I practically threw myself on top of him, adding bulk to fight centrifugal force. The car rolled onto two wheels. We angled toward the guardrail. Draped across Romeo’s lap, I grabbed the steering wheel to keep him from involuntarily tightening the turn. I felt it break and tightened my grip. The car fell back onto four wheels, and I yanked the car around. We brushed up against the guardrail. Romeo let up on the gas. I stomped a foot on top of his. The wheels spun then caught, propelling us due west down Charleston.

  “I got it.” Romeo’s muffled voice came from somewhere near my left boob.

  “Right.” I let go of the steering wheel and scrambled backward off of him.

  His face bright red, he stared straight ahead. “Thanks.”

  “You lost it when you let up on the gas through the turn. Brake before, then accelerate through the turn.”

  I glanced in the rearview. No Bethany. Momentarily panicked, I swiveled around and peered over the seat.

  The girl was on the floor, reaching under the front seat. “Found it.” When she pulled her hand back, her phone was clutched tightly. She had a red welt on her forehead to join the one that had turned blue. “I lost it back there.”

  “Join the club.”

  I settled back in the suicide seat, rethinking this whole have-to-ride-up-front thing of mine—a control issue that could get me killed…especially with Romeo behind the wheel. Clutching at random thoughts kept my mind off Mother.

  Worry would only carve a hole in my stomach lining—it wouldn’t save her.

  That was up to us. I stared into the deepening darkness in front of us as we left the lights of Vegas behind us. They could be anywhere out here. Red Rock State Conservation Area would be closed and gated, not that something so simple would slow down a sociopath. On the south side of the road, opposite and a bit before Red Rock on our right, a barren mountain loomed—a perpetual battleground between developers who want to build houses all over it and the citizens who wanted an unspoiled tract close to town. Heading west, nothingness stretched to the Spring Mountains. A great place to hide a body.

  “Anything?” I didn’t even try to hide the tightness making my voice twang with fear.

  “No. Wait.”

  I whirled around.

  Bethany’s face creased into a frown. “I got something, but it doesn’t make sense.” She held out her phone for me to see. “This says they’re right next to us on the left, but that’s a mountain.”

  I smiled. “Take the next exit. It’s a dirt road, so be prepared,” I said to Romeo. I caught Bethany’s eyes in the rearview. “They’re on top. That’s why Poppy got service again.”

  Bethany glanced at her phone. “Mine’s dead. No service.”

  “About where you lost Poppy, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  Romeo slowed as he eased the big car off the road. “Once bitten, twice shy, eh?”

  “You really are having too much fun,” Romeo groused, his nose still almost making contact with the steering wheel.

  “You’re gonna…”

  As I said it, we hit a pothole and he clonked himself good.

  “…hit yourself on that wheel.”

  He didn’t hit me and he sat up straighter—double win.

  “And I’m really not having any fun at all. I’m just trying to resist the urge to curl into the fetal position and make it all go away. You know the more scared I am, the more inappropriate I am.”

  He took a deep breath and relaxed. “What’s the plan?”

  “I’m making this up as I go. We should stop well below the crest—it’s pretty steep up there, but we don’t want to alert them we’re here.”

  “They’ll know. It’s not like lots of cars come grinding up here in the middle of the night.”

  “Then grind quieter.”

  We decided to kill the engine about two-thirds of the way up. “Leave the car here in the middle of the road—this is the only way up or down.”

  The full moon helped us navigate a road that hadn’t seen a grader in more winters than Bethany had been alive. One of those make-out places when I was in high school, the road up and the top it lead to had been dangerous even then. We’d all been forbidden to come up here, which meant it was the first place we all congregated. Of course, I hadn’t been forbidden—I was living by myself in a small room at a hotel in downtown. My mother hadn’t had a clue where I was.

  But the upside was I knew the place pretty well. “This way.” I left the road and scrambled up what amounted to nothing more than a goat path…well, burro path to be exact. Out here there were herds of wild burros—I’d loved them forever. Burros and Mustangs gave the desert a wonderful panache. Hand over hand, finding a foothold, we worked our way up with me leading the way, Romeo bringing up the rear and Bethany between us. The going was slow. With the hardscrabble, I had to test each foothold before I shifted my weight. Every now and then, one gave way. Rock skittered downhill, leaving me clutching for a handhold. Or stabbing my toes in to get a better foothold—Christian Louboutin would never forgive me. Maybe he’d send me a new pair…now, there was a thought.

  “Turn your phone off,” I whispered back to Bethany after one more cascade of rocks. We were getting close—the moonlight painted where the dark solid of rock gave way to star-dotted sky.

  “But I’ll get service at the top,” Bethany hissed back.

  “We know where they have to be, and the light will attract attention.”

  I didn’t have to check—I knew she’d do as I asked. My fingers found the lip, and I pulled myself up so my eyes cleared it and I could see. We’d come up where I thought we would, in a secluded little carve-out protected by some rocks from the vast expanse of the summit. I worked a foot over, then pulled myself the rest of the way, rolling onto the ground, then crabbing to take shelter against a nearby rock. Turning back, I could just make out Bethany as she eyed my position. I motioned her to join me, which she did far faster than I’d made it. Romeo didn’t wait to be motioned over. He, too, was there in a flash, leaving me feeling my decrepitude.

  The three of us, our backs to the rocks, caught our breath and made a plan.

  “Okay,” I whispered. “Romeo, what do you think about working your way around until you’re behind where they are?”

  “Shouldn’t I work my way to the other side and cut them off?”

  “There’s no escape that way, just a sheer drop. The way out is the way we came in.”
>
  “One exit, that makes it easier.”

  “One safe exit,” I reminded, putting a reality pin in his bubble of confidence. We all needed to be real. “The rest of this rock is a sheer drop.”

  “Okay, I’ll work my way behind.” He paused. “But behind where?”

  Bethany reached for her phone, but I stopped her. “My bet is they are at the overlook. From there, you can see all of the Vegas valley. It’s spectacular.”

  “Why would he take her there?”

  “Let her see all he’s taking away from her? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

  “Why is he after Mona?” Bethany asked.

  “She knows what he’s done.” Among other things, but that was speculation, and private, so I left it at that. “Bethany, you come with me. Romeo, you ready?”

  He showed me his gun, locked and loaded. Good, someone had thought ahead.

  My Glock was where? Last time I remembered having it, I gave it to Romeo. “Do you have my gun?”

  “I guess I lost it when Beckham beaned me. It must be in impound. Sorry.”

  When I’d seen Romeo down like that, the gun had been the least of my worries. “Let’s go.”

  “Are you going to tell me who we’re after?” he asked as he checked his gun. “It’d be nice to know who to shoot.”

  “Our Doc Latham.”

  Behind me, Bethany gasped.

  Romeo accepted my word as gospel, God love him.

  I wished I was as confident—oh, I was close to absolutely sure, but with lives on the line… “Can’t prove it just yet, but the planets are aligning. We’ll see if I’m right. But, if I’m not, shoot whoever looks like he wants to hurt Mona.”

  Romeo rolled his eyes—well, I couldn’t really see that in the pale moonlight, but I could feel it.

  Romeo angled off to our right. I watched until the night swallowed him. I put both hands on Bethany’s shoulders, steadying her, focusing her. “This is serious stuff. Mona could die. Hell, we all could. The guy is a sociopath. Don’t underestimate what he will do.”

  “Doc?” Bethany’s voice was a tortured whisper.