Wind River Undercover

by Lindsay McKenna

  Anna had no weapons on her, something she’d waffled on while dressing in her jeans, a blue and white flannel long-sleeved shirt, and a rust-colored goose-down vest, and picking up her black Stetson hat. The weather was warmer at ten A.M., forty degrees, the sky cloudless and the sun’s cheerful rays welcome. The snow that had fallen was still in large, glaringly white patches beneath the sunlight as she walked out to their pickup. Gabe followed her. She didn’t need protection, and she knew he was a throwback to another age and time by now, after seeing the wranglers at his parents’ ranch react similarly to all women. They would always tip the brim of their hat, call her ma’am, open doors for her, and were courtly, like knights from another age. It was chivalry, Anna had decided after spending seven days at the Wind River Ranch, not chauvinism. There was a huge gulf of difference between them and it was called respect.

  Gabe opened the truck door for her. “Be careful. I know you will be, but I’ll worry that those two sons could drive back to the house at any time. That leaves you vulnerable.”

  “I’ll be okay,” she promised, climbing in and placing the basket on the seat. “I have a recording device hidden on me they’ll never find, and you’ll be listening in on it so you know how it’s going. Plus, any conversation is being directly recorded to the DEA cloud. They’ll have it all. I’ll be okay, Gabe.”

  His mouth twisted, and he stepped back, saying nothing. “I’m going to have to get used to twenty-first-century women who don’t need any coddling or protection anymore.”

  She grinned. “I think it’s sweet. I’ll see you in a bit,” she said, and she swung the door shut.

  Gabe stepped back and headed for the barn. He was relieved that her hidden recording device would make all the difference to him about being worried out of his mind and just being stressed by the fact she had no weapon on her.

  * * *

  It took a few minutes to drive into the Elsons’ gravel and muddy driveway. Anna felt confident after talking with Sheriff Sarah Carson about Roberta. She was to be pitied and was not violent, nor did she handle any weapons. She was a badly abused woman, a mouse living with violent male drug rats, as she saw it. If anything, she wanted to try to forge a true relationship with the woman. Grabbing the covered basket, she walked up the cracked concrete sidewalk that was wet from ice starting to melt. It led to the front door. She pressed the doorbell, which worked.

  Looking around the area, she knew there was a small barn located behind the house. The boys parked their two big, honking trucks, gussied up with chrome wheels and bumpers, showing they were spending some of their drug money on tricking out their vehicles. It was so immature, Anna thought. Grown men, violent men, with the maturity and brains of a fourteen-year-old.

  The door creaked and groaned open.

  “Hi,” Anna greeted. “Are you Mrs. Elson?” Anna tried to swallow her shock over the woman’s narrow, sallow face, her thin lips compressed. She wore a gray cardigan sweater beneath a shawl of similar color, long black pants that were dirtied, and a pair of very well-worn black leather shoes. She knew from Sarah that Roberta was a drug addict. When she looked into the woman’s eyes, she didn’t see the pupils contracted, which was usually a sign that the person was partaking of recreational drugs. Maybe she had caught her between cocaine or heroin hits.

  Roberta scowled, pulling her shawl around her thin shoulders. “I am. Who are you?”

  Anna smiled, trying to disarm her wariness toward her. “I’m Anna Dominguez and my boss, Gabe Whitcomb, just moved into the Rocking G Ranch next to your spread.” She held out the basket toward her. “I thought it would be neighborly of us to meet you, since you’re so close to where we have our house and barn. These are chocolate chip cookies I just baked. Would you like to take them?”

  Roberta’s gray and brown brows rose as she eyed the basket of cookies. “Oh! Well,” she said, reaching for the basket, “that’s right nice of you, Mrs. Dominguez. Thank you. I sure never expected anything like this. We noticed you had moved in a couple of days ago. That place is in a really bad state of repair and has sat without humans in it for at least twenty-five years.”

  “Call me Anna. And I’m not married.” She took off her hat. “I’m the wrangler Mr. Whitcomb hired. He and I are trying to get the horse barn in shape and the house roof patched right now. May I come in for just a moment?” It was a bold move on her part. She saw Roberta frown, look toward the highway, and then back at her. Did this woman have any social skills? Was she expecting company? Did they have drug drops here right now? Was she expecting one?

  “Uh . . . why, sure, sure. Come on in. I warn you, though, the house is a mess! My two sons, Kaen and Elisha, are gone for a bit. They’re drivin’ over to Salt Lake City, Utah, and will be back later tonight.” She stepped aside, looking fondly down at the basket she kept in the crook of her elbow and pressed against her body. “I know for a fact, they are gonna love your cookies. That was mighty thoughtful of you! Come in! I don’t normally get company and it’s mighty nice to talk to another woman.”

  Thanking her, Anna stepped inside. She guessed the Elson boys were taking drugs to dealers in Salt Lake City. The window drapes, a thick, dark green fabric, were all shut, making the foyer and the living room murky gray, depressed looking, and she was right: It was dusty; there was dirt across a carpet that looked to be at least twenty years old, ragged and torn here and there. This house reminded her of a hoarder’s house. She stood, watching the woman shut the door and then slide three deadbolts in place once again. The wood on the door had been replaced, probably kicked in by who knew who? It was unpainted, recently installed and the deadbolts put back into place, Anna guessed. Her sniper’s gaze did not miss anything in those fleeting seconds as she unobtrusively scanned the immediate area, however glum and underlit that it was. Addicts didn’t like sunlight. She’d often seen drapes over windows to hide them from those who might be curious.

  “Come into the kitchen. Do you like coffee?” Roberta asked, moving past her, gesturing toward where they were going to go.

  “I love coffee. It goes well with cookies,” Anna said, smiling at the woman whose shoulders were hunched forward. She felt sorry for Roberta, understanding that abused spouses often hunched forward to ward off a blow from an angry husband or partner. Her heart squeezed in sympathy for the woman who had been beaten. She was sure the four sons had also suffered the same fate from their father.

  In the kitchen, dingy, unwashed yellow curtains hung and were open, showing the patchy snow across the flat property. All the wooden fences were broken down, the barbed wire lying in strands across the landscape. Obviously, this was not a working ranch at all. There were crumbs on the white plastic counter, puddles of grease here and there, the kitchen equally dirty. Roberta pointed to a square table with six wooden chairs.

  “Have a seat. I’ll make us coffee in a jiffy.”

  Anna sat with her back against the wall and in a position that gave her a view of the kitchen door as well as the hallway to her left. That door could be an escape route. Or maybe it’s where the Elson boys came and went? Trying not to be obvious, she memorized the layout and the two exit points in case she needed to escape. It was good that the boys were heading for Salt Lake City. That was three hours from here. They would be gone all day, and she breathed a little easier. At least they wouldn’t come barging in on them. She noted Roberta’s hands shook as she made them coffee. Opening a cupboard door, she pulled down two cups. Anna wondered just how clean they were.

  “Do you like milk and sugar?” she asked, turning toward her.

  “I like mine black, Mrs. Elson.”

  “Oh,” Roberta laughed, “call me by my first name, Roberta.”

  “If you’ll call me Anna?”

  “Of course,” she said, bringing the basket of cookies over. Pulling the cloth off the top, Roberta leaned down, inhaling deeply over them. “My, it’s been so long since I baked cookies and this smells so good!”

  “There’s two dozen,” An
na said. “I saw two men at your home yesterday, and I thought I’d make enough for them, too.”

  “My sons Kaen and Elisha live with me and that’s who you saw. This is a real surprise for them. They love sugar of any kind.” She picked one up daintily, biting into it.

  Anna saw immediate pleasure come to Roberta’s thin, pale features. Her hair was not combed and desperately needed to be washed. It was straight and touching her shoulders. That ratty-looking gray shawl just made her skin look even grayer than it really was. Anna was no design maven, but a little makeup for Roberta would go a long way. The dark circles beneath her large, well-spaced eyes made her look positively ghoulish with that sallow skin. She wanted to say something, but bit down on her lower lip. She wasn’t going to change this woman, an addict all her life. Anna had plenty of experience with them in Guatemala. If Roberta wanted to honestly quit her addiction, she would seek help, but according to Sarah Carter, she never had. That saddened Anna because clearly Roberta liked her company and was probably thrilled to talk to another woman after living with four sons and a violent husband.

  “Well, tell me about you being at the Rocking G,” she urged, sitting down near Anna and watching the coffee maker chugging noisily along on the counter.

  “Mr. Gabe Whitcomb bought the property,” Anna said, sticking to the undercover script.

  “He’s one of the sons of Maud and Steve Whitcomb.”

  “Yes. He’s come home to stay and wanted his own ranch because he wanted to remain in the valley.”

  Rising, Roberta went to the counter and poured the coffee. “My boys went to school with the Whitcomb kids. Back then, they were good friends. A lot of kids hated my sons, but the Whitcombs were always good to them and vice versa.”

  “Then the two families know one another,” Anna said, thanking her for the steaming cup of coffee.

  Roberta sat down. “Elisha and Gabe Whitcomb were best friends in school. Did you know that?”

  Shaking her head, Anna said, “No, I didn’t.”

  “Gabe went off into the military, as I recall.”

  “I didn’t know that, either,” Anna lied.

  Sipping her coffee and taking a second cookie, Roberta became thoughtful. “My husband, who is now dead, would never let our four boys play with anyone. He’d tell my sons lies, that the others, any others, were no good. They didn’t stack up to us. Elisha cried once when he was thirteen. He was on the basketball team with Gabe, and they were going to go on a school picnic before the end of school, but my husband wouldn’t let him. It broke Elisha’s heart. Brian never let any of our boys out to have a social life. He demanded they stay home, work around the house, and not venture out beyond that.”

  “I see,” Anna said gently. “Did you want to venture out some?” She smiled a little. “You know how women love to get together and network. My own mother has a knitting club she loves to attend weekly. For her, it’s a way to leave the everyday cares behind for a little, be with friends and have a good time together.”

  “Oh,” Roberta whispered, “how I longed for that throughout the years!” She picked up the corner of the ratty gray shawl she wore. “My mama made this for me when I graduated high school. Every time I wear it, I feel like it’s her arms goin’ around me. The poor thing is so old, but it brings me such comfort.”

  Heart twinging, Anna tried not to be as touched as she really was by Roberta’s whispered, sad story. “Do you knit?”

  “Nah. I had my hands full raisin’ four rambunctious boys who couldn’t stay out of trouble.” She grew pensive and added achingly, “There’s days when I wished my life had taken different twist and turns than it did.”

  “I think we all have those regrets,” Anna said. She munched on another cookie.

  “Elisha is going to be shocked that the people next door to us was his best friend growin’ up! Wait ’til he hears. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wants to run over and see Gabe right away.”

  “Did they remain friends until Mr. Whitcomb left for the military?”

  “No . . . things kinda went south when my youngest, Cree, kidnapped a local girl, carrying her off into the Salt Mountains.” Roberta’s mouth thinned. “It was wrong what Cree did. And he didn’t do it once. He did it twice. He served hard time in prison for the first kidnapping. When the girl came home many years later, my son still had an obsession about her and he didn’t learn his lesson. When he carried her off that second time, two county sheriffs and a whole passel of other law enforcement hunted my son down and killed him.”

  “That’s a lot of history I’m not familiar with,” Anna admitted.

  “Only because you’re an outsider and wasn’t born or lived in our valley,” Roberta said. She shook her head. “It was no fault of the girl who got taken. Cree knew better. I raised him better than that. But my boy was so lonely . . .”

  “I’m so sorry,” Anna murmured, reaching out and touching her skin, which was like cool parchment paper beneath her fingertips. “Listen, I have to get going, but I’d love to come over and have coffee with you from time to time, if that’s all right?”

  “Of course,” Roberta said, her voice hopeful.

  “If you make coffee, I’ll bring the cookies,” Anna said, rising, smiling down at the woman whose face was drawn with incalculable suffering, the grief clearly written in her watering eyes. “Can we agree to that?” she urged, wanting to reach out and hold Roberta gently. This woman had had nothing but awful and sad times in her life.

  “Why . . . I’d dearly like that, Anna. But you’re gonna be mighty busy over at that ranch.”

  “I’ll find the time,” Anna promised. She touched her shoulder. “I gotta go, but I’ll be in touch. Okay?”

  Roberta gave her a happy look. “That would be mighty fine . . . and thank you for these cookies. When Elisha hears that Gabe Whitcomb is over there at that ranch, I probably won’t be able to have ten horses hold ’em back from goin’ and seein’ him. Can you tell Gabe that? They weren’t friends after that girl got kidnapped. There’s a lot of years of water lyin’ between them.”

  “I’ll let Mr. Whitcomb know,” she promised. “I’ll talk to you next week, Roberta. Thanks for the coffee. It was really good.”

  * * *

  “I didn’t know you and Elisha were friends in school,” Anna said, sitting at the kitchen table later with Gabe. She watched his expression carefully. “There was nothing in my report on you that said anything about this. Does anyone in DEA know about this relationship?”

  He nodded, rubbing his jaw. “Only top-tier people know. We wanted this part kept secret for a lot of reasons.”

  She sipped her coffee he’d just made for them. Ace was happy to have her back. He was standing, resting his head on her thigh as she petted him. Outside, she could see the noontime blue sky and bright sunshine pouring through the windows at the end of the counter. “Want to tell me about it?”

  “Yes,” he said, giving her an apologetic look. “All the children in the valley, at one time, went to one school pretty much in the center of the valley. We had a twenty-five mile ride on a bus twice a day. The Elsons didn’t always live where they do now. When I was growing up, they lived very close to that school. They didn’t always have the bad name and reputation they have now. But now, no one likes them. They shun all of them mostly because when Brian was alive, he’d get even with anyone who tried to put one of the sons in his place. They were like a wolf pack, bullying others and then beating them up. They were constantly being called to the principal’s office and being warned. Notes would get sent to the parents and that was when Brian would storm off to the school, confront the principal or whoever had written the report. He was dangerous and he was always on cocaine, so everyone at school started to learn that one bully, a father, put everyone on a threat-level alert.”

  “And Elisha?”

  “He and I just vibed with each other. He was shy and quiet, like the youngest brother, Cree. We played sports together and got along. I really like
d him. He was sensitive to others, not a bully like his two older brothers, Hiram and Kaen. Cree hid in the world of fantasy, later kidnapping Tara Dalton.”

  “What a messy, dysfunctional family,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Do you have any plans to go over and see Elisha?”

  Shaking his head, he said, “No. When we were juniors in high school, we kind of split up for good because he was getting into drugs and I wanted nothing to do with them or him.”

  “Do you think he’ll drive over here and see you?”

  “I honestly don’t know, Anna. We were seventeen at the time. There’s a lot of time and water under the bridge. I’m twenty-six now. He doesn’t know I went into the DEA, either. And now? He’s a drug runner and supplier working with a cartel.”

  Anna saw the pain in Gabe’s eyes and heard the heaviness in his voice. “Wow, this is really complicated. If we have to confront them or bring in a DEA team to take them down, that’s going to bother you.”

  He sat up, moving his shoulders. “It will in one way, for sure. Elisha was a ten-year-old freckle-faced kid who used to rescue butterflies and bugs from Hiram, who was going to yank their wings off them for fun. Elisha was always the one who had a true north about right and wrong.”

  “Do you think living in that rat’s nest with Brian eventually wore him down, and he gave up and went into the drug business with everyone else?”

  “I do,” Gabe said, giving her a sad look. “And when I realized this was going to stress me a lot more than I thought because of our past friendship, I almost didn’t take the mission.”

  “What made you decide to do it?”

  “If we don’t stop the present incursion into our valley by this cartel, it will only get worse, and a lot of people will be murdered as a result. It will be a slow-rolling bloodbath in the valley, and I just didn’t want to see that happen. The buck stops with us.”