The New Mexico Scoundrel

by R Scott Wallis

  “What are you talking about?” Georgia asked as she straightened up in her seat. “You said he was 200 miles away and that they were moving in on his position.”

  “Skyler’s been in contact with the lead guy on the case, apparently,” Carter said. “He said that Massimo’s credit card was used to buy a bus ticket to Roswell. But he didn’t get off the bus at the other end. He’s not there.”

  “And you’re just telling me this now?”

  Carter moved over and placed an arm around the singer’s back and pulled her in tight. “You can’t see outside right now, Georgia, but it’s a virtual blizzard. He’s not out there. No one is out there. Even the coyotes and bears have taken cover.”

  “That’s not making me feel better.”

  “Not even in my arms?”

  “Sully, please,” Georgia said.

  Carter recoiled, and from across the room Sullivan said, “I’m over here, babe.”

  Darby laughed.

  “Jesus Christ,” Brenda said under her breath.

  “My goodness. I’m sorry.” She looked into Carter’s face then grabbed each of his cheeks with her cold hands. “I know who’s who, Carter. I’ve just had too much to drink and I’m tired. And it’s dark in here. It’s been quite a day.”

  In the loft upstairs, Skyler and Leonard approached the exterior glass door that led to a small second floor balcony. Skyler directed the flashlight at the snow piled up on the wood planks. There were fresh footprints just on the other side of the glass. She gasped, and Leonard reached around her and checked the doorknob. It was unlocked.

  Skyler knelt down and felt the carpeting. “It’s wet.”

  “Holy shit,” he said. “Get downstairs and make sure all the doors are locked. I’m going to go get my gun.”

  “Please don’t shoot anyone inside this house, Leonard!” Skyler yelled as they hurried down the stairs in the dark. They fell over each other and landed in a heap at the bottom. “Are you okay?”

  Leonard scrambled to his feet. “Yup. You?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Brenda and Darby appeared in the back hall with flashlights. “What is going on?” Brenda asked as she helped her friend to her feet.

  “Someone was out on that balcony off of the loft space. We saw footprints.”

  “Is that all?” Darby said with a sigh. “That was me. I was puffing on my cigar a bit after we finished dinner.”

  “Jesus,” Skyler said.

  “Not Jesus,” Darby said. “I didn’t see Santa out there either. Or the Abominable Snowman. Just a butt load of snow and a lot of darkness.”

  “I think it’s about time we all retreat to our suites and call this Christmas Eve over,” Brenda said. “Seriously. Everything is going to be a lot more pleasant when that damned sun comes up.”

  Leonard came out of his suite, gun drawn. “Why aren’t you checking the doors?”

  Skyler put a hand on Leonard’s arm. “Lower the weapon, Officer. It was Darby on the balcony. He was just out there twenty minutes ago smoking his cigar.”

  “Oh. Good.” Leonard turned to return to his room. “It must have been ice falling off the roof. I’m getting into bed. I’m beat. Go check the doors anyway.” And he was gone.

  Skyler smiled at Brenda. “I think you’re right. Time to hit the hay.”

  “Is that all you’ll be hitting?” Darby asked.

  “Gross,” Skyler and Brenda said in unison.

  “I knew the real Darby would return,” Skyler said. “Goodnight everyone. Go check the doors, kid.” And Skyler disappeared into her suite and shut the door.

  After a short discussion on revised sleeping arrangements, Darby reluctantly returned to the loft—noting that he planned to buy the house and burn it down one day—and the twins agreed to bunk together in order to give the diva her privacy.

  “I’m just going to pass out, if that’s okay with you both,” she said sweetly.

  “Of course. You’ve been through a lot,” Sullivan said. “I’ll go move my stuff into Carter’s room.”

  Carter shrugged his shoulders. “Sully and I haven’t shared a bed, or even slept in the same room, in a couple decades. I guess a Christmas Eve slumber party won’t kill us. You know, we used to sleep together every Christmas Eve when we were kids because we were so excited and…”

  Georgia placed a cool hand on Carter’s cheek as she pushed by him on her way to the back hall. “That’s nice, honey. I’m fading fast. Goodnight.” And she was gone.

  “Rude,” Carter said under his breath. He went to the bar and fumbled around with the bottle of Armagnac. He poured a few ounces into a juice glass and then padded off to his room after blowing out the remaining candles.

  Within a few minutes, the house was dark and quiet. It was just after 10 o’clock and the snow was tapering off outside. The clouds began to clear and a three-fourths moon shone brightly on the blanket of white below.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Skyler was the first out of bed at about half past six on Christmas morning. The house was freezing cold and she really didn’t want to leave Leonard (the human heating pad that he was), but she had work to do. The stockings weren’t going to get hung by themselves.

  It was silly, and she didn’t know if the gesture would be appreciated by the Lowerys and Georgia, but she knew Brenda would get a kick out of her remembering their tradition—Brenda cooked and Skyler played Santa. It’s how it’d been for as long as either one of them could remember. And they liked it that way, whether there were men in the picture or not.

  The stockings were handmade needlepoint creations, each one different, adorned with various snowmen, Santa Clauses, Christmas trees, wreaths, angels, and the like. Since she hadn’t had time to get them monogrammed, she made a list of who was to receive which stocking design and filled them accordingly. It was just small trinkets and candies and mementoes of Santa Fe, but it would do the trick. Or, at least she hoped so. There was even one for herself, filled by herself, so she’d have something to open, too. Brenda never remembered to do it and she knew it would have never in a million years dawned on Leonard. She didn’t care though, it was her task and it was important to her.

  “Merry Christmas,” Darby said from behind her. “He is risen.”

  “That’s what you say on Easter, not Christmas, silly. Today is his birthday.”

  “Actually, Biblical scholars think Jesus was born in the summer. December 25th is a bogus date.”

  “Nevertheless,” Skyler said, raising one of the stuffed socks into the air. “Santa brought stockings for all of us.”

  “How’d he get through all that damned white stuff out there?”

  “He flies, silly.”

  “Ahh yes. I forgot.” Darby made his way to the coffee bar. Skyler was thankful that he had clothes on. “Can I pour you a cup? Black, right?”

  “Yes, thank you. That would be most appreciated. How’d you sleep?”

  “I was more awake than asleep most of the night. All I can think about is money.”

  “That keeps a lot of people up at night,” Skyler said. “But usually because of a lack of it.”

  “The poor peasants.”

  Skyler stood at the window and noticed that the snow was melting fast. She suspected that as soon as the sun was fully up over the mountains, that the rest of it would be done away with fairly quickly. It was then that it dawned on her, the electricity was back on.

  Darby handed her a mug. “Here you are.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “We have power.”

  “That’s how the coffee got made, ma’am. According to the clock on the kitchen stove, it’s been on for just over three hours now.”

  Skyler felt something warm hit her face just as she heard the plate glass window to her left shatter. A small powerful burst of wind whisked by her right ear. It all happened at the same time, in a fraction of second. For Skyler, time seemed to come to a screeching halt for that split second, just like in the movies—slow motion for the u
ltimate dramatic effect. Skyler wasn’t fully aware of what was happening while it happened. And she felt like she couldn’t breathe; there was no air around her face. Yet she dropped her coffee mug and instinctively put both arms out in order to grab Darby’s body as it slumped forward toward her. As she cradled the young man in her arms, the combined weight—along with something slick and thick on the floor below them—sent them down. It was then that Skyler realized that Darby was bleeding heavily from the base of his neck.

  Skyler lay on the floor with the unconscious man on top of her and listened to voices coming from the direction of the kitchen.

  “Are you okay?” Leonard screamed. “Skyler!”

  She couldn’t speak.

  Her boyfriend rolled Darby over and grabbed her around the waist and brought her effortlessly to her feet. He held her close and asked again: “Are you okay? You’re covered in blood.”

  “I think so. I wasn’t hit.”

  “We need to move.” He picked her up and carried her like a ragdoll out of the Great Room and into the back hall of the house. Brenda was right on their heels.

  “Is he dead?” Brenda asked Leonard.

  “I don’t know. I’ll go back and see.” He placed Skyler on their bed and turned to Brenda. “Look her over. I’m getting my gun.” He struggled with his suitcase. “I need my damned shoes. Mother fucker!”

  Carter and Sullivan appeared in the doorway in matching boxer shorts and socks to see Skyler absolutely covered in blood.

  “What happened?” Carter demanded.

  “Oh, my goodness, Skyler!” Georgia was in the room now, too, dressed in a long nightgown. A black eye mask was pushed up onto her forehead.

  Leonard finished pulling on his boots from a seated position on the floor then sprung upright like a gymnast. “I want everyone to stay in this room and to stay down low. Now! Away from the windows.” He bolted out of the room as he racked his firearm.

  “Someone please tell us what happened,” Sullivan pleaded. “Skyler, where are you bleeding from?”

  “I’m not bleeding,” Skyler managed to say.

  Brenda, who was on her knees on the floor in front of Skyler looked up at the twins and Georgia. “Get down here, now!” she screamed. “Didn’t you hear what he said?”

  They all got down on the floor.

  “Come on!” Brenda screamed at Skyler.

  Skyler let herself slide off the bed on to the floor. She looked at the twins. “Someone shot Darby in the Great Room.”

  The brothers immediately sprung to their feet and were gone.

  “I hope it’s not too late,” Skyler said.

  “On Christmas morning,” Georgia cried. “Where was he shot?”

  “In the living room,” Skyler said, her voice shaking.

  “We know where in the house,” Brenda said. “Where on his body?”

  “His neck. He was losing a lot of blood. But Leonard made us move. Someone had a gun pointed at the house. That big front window is gone. Completely shattered.”

  Brenda snatched Skyler’s cell phone from the bedside table. “I’m calling 9-1-1.”

  “Good luck with that,” Skyler said. She wiped blood off her forehead and smeared it onto the sheets. “Oh my goodness.”

  “Honey, go into the bathroom,” Georgia said. “There are no windows in there. Get cleaned up.”

  Brenda dropped the phone into her lap. “I can’t get through. I’m getting nothing. Nothing!”

  Skyler started crawling toward the bathroom. “Come with me. We’ll text them from the bathroom.”

  Leonard was outside on the front porch listening carefully for any human sounds. The snow and ice was melting fast and all he could hear was dripping water from the roof together with the sound of his heart racing. He descended the slushy stairs slowly, holding the gun straight out in front of him. When he got to the ground, he started toward the right and was soon standing in front of the broken window.

  It took just a fraction of a second for him to realize: the broken glass was on the outside of the house.

  Carter and Sullivan were on their knees on each side of Darby’s limp body. He was still breathing and the blood flow was slowing from the wound at the base of his neck. Carter grabbed one of Skyler’s Christmas stockings, dumped the contents onto the floor, and pressed it against the entry point. Sullivan had his hand on the back of Darby’s neck and felt blood flowing through his fingers.

  “It went all the way through,” Sullivan said. “We need to stop the bleeding in the back.” As he pressed his fingers as hard as he could onto the exit wound, he looked up when Leonard rushed back through the front door.

  “The shot came from inside the house!” Leonard said.

  “Okay, okay. We need to move him,” Carter said. He started to get to his feet but slipped in the thick pool of blood and fell backwards into the Christmas tree, sending it toppling over. Sullivan let go of Darby’s neck and helped Carter to his feet.

  “Let’s pick him up and get him to our room. There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom under the sink.”

  Nothing else mattered. They worked together, each taking an arm and a leg. They moved as quickly as they could through the kitchen and down the back hall to the room they had been sleeping in. They tossed Darby onto the bed and Carter scrambled into the bathroom to get the kit while Sullivan locked the door to the hall. He then grabbed his phone and sent a texted to 9-1-1:

  1417 encantado place

  ambulance police gunman hurry

  As soon as he was done, he put both hands firmly around his younger brother’s neck again.

  “God damn it, Carter,” he screamed. “Hurry up.”

  Leonard ran into his bedroom suite and found the girls gone. He saw that the bathroom door was closed so he rushed to it and tried the handle. It was locked from inside. “Skyler?” He banged on the wood. “Open the door, honey. It’s me.”

  No response.

  He threw all of his weight into the door and it easily popped open. He fell against the interior wall and then lost his balance on the loose area rug that covered the tile, falling to the floor. There was no one besides him in the bathroom.

  He heard a commotion coming from the end of the hall, so with his weapon drawn, he made his way as quietly as he could toward the laundry room. He rounded the corner and saw Skyler, Brenda, and Georgia backed up against the washing machine and dryer, all looking in the same direction. Leonard didn’t have much time to decide what to do; rushing into small rooms with his gun drawn didn’t work out for him in the past. He didn’t want to accidently get one of the girls killed.

  He tried desperately to control his breathing. He wanted to go outside to get a look through the laundry room window, but there was little time. A woman started yelling and it didn’t seem to be Skyler, Brenda, or Georgia’s voice.

  Then Brenda cried out, “No, please!”

  “Emma, why are you doing this?” Georgia pleaded.

  Leonard sprung forward and pointed the gun toward where he thought the woman had to be standing. Startled, she whipped her body around to face him and she pulled the trigger on the gun she was holding. Her bullet missed him but he shot back at the same instant, hitting her in the right shoulder. She dropped her gun.

  Skyler scrambled to the ground and retrieved the weapon, then pointed it at the wounded woman slumped against the wall and slowly collapsing toward the floor. Her eyes were closed tightly and she clutched at her shoulder with both hands. She started to cry.

  “Back out of the room,” Leonard directed his friends. “Skyler, give me the gun.” She handed it over and now he had one in each hand pointed at the woman. “Call 9-1-1.”

  “We texted,” Brenda said. “They’re on their way. They confirmed.”

  Leonard examined the pistol in his left hand and immediately knew that he’d seen it before. That was twice that Carter’s weapon had discharged in his direction that week.

  A shrill beeping sound started coming from somewhere behind t
hem. Georgia and Brenda ran to investigate.

  The Christmas tree had fallen into the gas fireplace when Carter toppled it and it was entirely engulfed in flames along with the drapes, the wrapped presents, and the couch. The house was filling fast with a thick black smoke.

  Brenda ran to the front door and ripped it open. She could hear sirens in the near distance. She turned back to Georgia. “Let’s get everyone out of the house. They’re on their way. I can hear them coming.”

  “Where are the dogs?” Georgia asked.

  She was already pale, but the very last of the blood ran out of Brenda’s face. She had no idea where her babies were. “Oh my goodness. I don’t know!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Leonard was wrapped in a Santa Fe Fire Department blanket and standing in the fast-melting slush next to an ambulance. He told the commanding police officer on the scene everything he knew about the events of the past few hours. Inside the vehicle, paramedics worked on Darby and they successfully controlled the bleeding from his gunshot wound. They were about to head to the hospital and explained that only one of the twins would be allowed to ride along. Sullivan quickly volunteered, and Carter reluctantly got out and closed the back doors. When the ambulance had driven out of sight, he joined Leonard and the officer.

  “Where’s the gunman?” Carter asked.

  “In the other ambulance,” the officer said as he pointed up the driveway. “It’s not life-threatening. An officer is in there with the paramedics.”

  “Who is he?”

  “He is a she,” Leonard said.

  The officer continued to take notes. “And the gun that she had, tell me again where it came from.”

  “It’s mine. I lost it in the woods just over there,” Carter said, pointing toward the evergreens to the north.

  “When was this?”

  “Two days ago. On the evening of the 23rd,” Leonard said. “We were chasing an intruder on the property. She got away.”