Like a cool breeze on the desert, the image of Abigail wafted before his eyes. She had class and intelligence and a fine ass for a middle-aged gal. Maybe when this was all over they could be together.
No time for romance. Right now, Abigail was good cover so he could keep an eye on Kachina Ski.
He’d like to get rid of Nora. Her balkiness over snowmaking irritated him. But it would look suspicious if Nora disappeared and for now, he had her under control. Her life expectancy would change, though, if she ever found out Scott worked for him.
Barrett sank back in his chair. Abigail was a fount of disturbing information at their lunch. For instance, Barrett learned about Scott’s affair. Another loose thread to take care of.
Dust on the road signaled an approaching car. He glanced at the clock. Right on time. That proved Big Elk was no real Indian. He was nothing but a damned mercenary.
Big Elk’s black Escalade, now dusted with dirt, braked in front of Barrett’s house. He turned off the ignition and sat behind the wheel talking on the phone.
The irksome imposter drove the same vehicle as Barrett. Before he rose to answer the doorbell, Barrett sent a quick email to his assistant at the office in Phoenix telling him to trade the Escalade for one of those Mercedes SUVs.
“Nice place,” Big Elk said when Barrett opened the door.
Barrett led him to the great room. “It’s home. Drink?”
“Whiskey, straight up.”
Barrett poured two fingers and handed it to him.
Big Elk settled himself on the leather sofa. “What’s on your mind?”
Barrett wanted business with this varmint concluded quickly. He stood by the window. “Stop influencing the Hopi council against uranium mining.”
Big Elk sighed. “The Hopi are a simple people. I’m merely a voice for them to the outside world.”
Barrett knew more about the Hopi and cared more for them than Big Elk ever would. He knew what served their best interest. “Convince them of the benefits of mining.”
“I see no benefit to raping and mauling their pristine lands to satisfy your avaricious desire.”
Good thing for Big Elk that Barrett’s gun rested in his desk drawer across the room. Too bad for Barrett the Rolaids sat in the same place. “The benefits of mining royalties to the Hopi are something I’m sure you can imagine. What’s more important for this discussion is the benefit to Big Elk.”
Big Elk sat back with satisfaction. “Go on.”
“What’s your price?”
Big Elk feigned shock, coming closer than he knew to Barrett’s fist in his face. “This is about an ancient people’s land and their right to sovereignty.”
Barrett waited.
“I can’t say you’re much fun to do business with.”
“I don’t like you.”
Big Elk’s eyebrows shot up. “Ouch.”
Again Barrett waited.
Big Elk stood. He reached in his back pocket for his wallet. “Two million. Deposited to these accounts.” He pulled out a handwritten note.
Barrett didn’t move. “One.”
“With uranium selling at an all-time high and you panting after one of the world’s largest deposits, you won’t miss two million, my friend.”
“I’m not your friend.” Barrett let the clock tick. “One point five.”
Big Elk took a moment as if weighing the decision. “And a warehouse in Flagstaff.”
“A warehouse? I won’t be involved in drugs.”
Big Elk laughed. “Nor would I. I’ll spare you the details but saving Mother Earth isn’t the only game in town for this Indian.”
Barrett snatched the paper containing the bank accounts from Big Elk’s hand.
Big Elk smiled. “I’ll let myself out.”
“One other thing,” Barrett said. “Keep Alex Seweingyawma away from my daughter.”
An oily smile slid onto Big Elk’s face. “I can’t control him.”
“If I find out he’s been anywhere near Heather, the deal is off and you’re going to jail.”
Big Elk shrugged. “I’ll do what I can to protect your innocent daughter. But understand this, Barrett, I have as much on you as you have on me.”
Barrett glared at Big Elk until the small man snorted with arrogance and sauntered down the hall.
Barrett craved a disinfectant shower. It sickened him the way Big Elk had no principles.
Big Elk tossed off words over his shoulder. “You don’t have any attachment to Nora Abbott, do you?”
Barrett waited while Big Elk faced him.
“I’ve heard she’s accident prone,” Big Elk said.
An accident, such as a fall from a cliff? Maybe a malfunctioning Jeep engine. The lodge apartment ran on propane and those pesky fuel bottles could blow under heat or pressure. It would be nice to have the Nora Abbott problem eliminated.
Barrett bent to pick up the empty whiskey glass so Big Elk wouldn’t see his smile. Good. Let Big Elk take care of her.
The front door opened and closed as Big Elk left.
Barrett headed to the kitchen and realized he hadn’t heard Big Elk drive off. One glance out the window made his veins feel like a river in January.
Heather stood next to Big Elk’s Escalade. He sat behind the wheel with the window down.
Damn it. She said she’d be gone all day riding her horse and here she stood, talking to Big Elk. Heather seemed to have a talent for finding trouble these days. Maybe Barrett should install a tracking chip under her skin.
Heather’s eyebrows drew together the way they did when she made a serious point.
Barrett stomped onto the front porch. “Heather.”
She jumped and turned toward the house, not finishing her sentence.
“Come inside, now.” Barrett glared at Big Elk while Heather pounded up the stairs and into the house.
If Big Elk didn’t stay away from Heather, he might make Barrett angry. A very bad position for Big Elk.
16
Watching the truck loaded with pipeline inching up the slope should fill Nora with triumph. Three months ago, she feared she’d end up selling the ski lift on E-bay and peddling used rental skis on the street corner.
Back then, Scott was still alive and planning to leave her. The 9th District court weighed its decision on snowmaking. Abigail shopped in New York and though Nora fretted about losing Kachina Ski, she hadn’t learned real fear, yet.
A ski area in Arizona sounded crazy. But Kachina Ski opened in 1935 and was one of the oldest ski slopes in the country. Sure, the drive to a desert took only an hour, but this mountain rose to nearly 13,000 feet. Though the runs didn’t rival Colorado or Utah resorts, Kachina Ski held its own, and even managed to be profitable. That is, until Nora took over, which happened to coincide with a five-year—and counting—drought.
But this pipeline proved she conquered the drought, and with Barrett’s help, she’d have Abigail shopping for shoes in no time. By Christmastime this mountain would be covered in snow, whether Mother Nature felt up to the task or not.
Why did it make her stomach ache to think of it?
The sun glared overhead, heating the pines and releasing their pungent perfume over the mountainside covered in June’s wildflowers. Enormous black ravens cawed and glided from treetops and over the wide swath of grass-covered ski run. The day sparkled brilliantly on her mountain but it might as well have been sleeting.
Nora plodded up the slope, following the truck with its load of pipe rolled like giant spools of fire hose. Its tires tore the ground like the Jolly Green Giant’s golf divots.
A quiet voice filtered through the truck’s struggle. “Miss.”
The slip of a man, the kachina salesmen from the courthouse, stood behind her. His approached must have been masked by the roar of the truck. He stood without moving, his black eyes focused on her face.
If he breathed, Nora couldn’t see the movement. Though nothing about him threatened, Nora’s pulse quickened. Maybe he brought
Alex with him. “You. What do you want?”
His eyes shifted slowly to the truck which stopped at a level place to unload the hose. The sorrow on his face felt like fingers squeezing Nora’s heart.
The rolls of hose stacked on the flatbed would be unrolled and laid on the ground alongside the run. The pump would shoot water and air through the hose to the sprayers. Snow, directly from the abundant aquifer. God, it was good to be an American.
What a triumphant day on her mountain—well, her sliver of it, anyway. I will not feel guilty, damn it. This guy needed to go away.
He brought his gaze back to her. “Are you gonna…?” He spoke in clipped words, as if English wasn’t natural for him. He pointed to the hose.
He didn’t look like the placard-bearing, rally-calling, hysterical religious fanatics that fought her for years. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t turn on her any minute. “It’s for snow making, yes.”
He nodded so slowly he barely moved. Those eyes carried deep sadness.
Nope. Not feeling bad for bringing water to the mountain. Nora hiked to the truck. She waved to the driver when he climbed from the cab. “We want to stack the rolls right here.”
He pulled a clipboard from the cab. “I gotta do the paperwork.”
Nora walked next to the rumbling truck, ignoring the diesel fumes. She put a hand on the sun-heated hose, the veins that pumped the blood to keep Kachina Ski alive.
“Miss.”
Nora jumped. His gentle voice raised the hairs on her neck. Why did he seem to belong here more than she did?
He pulled a ratty bag from his back. “I brought you my kachinas.”
The crude doll with the blue mask, broken and floating in the gutter flashed in her mind. “No thanks. I lost the last one.”
While his hand rummaged in the bag, he stared into her face.
The two top rolls shifted. Nora jumped back.
They settled. The driver must be ready to unload. “Excuse me,” Nora said to the little guy. She strode away to talk to the driver.
Holding his bag in front of him, the man stared up at the hose.
Something moved on top of the truck.
The top two rolls of hose shifted again and straps holding the stack upright slipped to the ground. Lightening flashed inside Nora as she realized the hose was no longer strapped to the truck. If the little man didn’t move now, the hose could fall and flatten him.
The unstable roll slipped from the top.
Why didn’t the little man react?
The whole pile started to topple. The Native American man stood motionless.
A normal person would run. No one would stand there doing nothing.
The top of the load rolled, followed by the others. Her body took over, legs pumping up the slope, perhaps her voice shouting, hands in front of her.
The man stayed rooted to the mountain.
Nora smashed into him like a defensive tackle, pushing them out of the way of the crashing hose. She landed on top of him. The ground vibrated with the impact of falling freight.
Still pulsing with adrenaline, Nora dug her feet into the dirt and tried to scoot them away.
Too late.
A heavy weight crushed her ankle, sending hot waves of pain shooting up her legs and spine. Several more hits felt like someone with a sledgehammer pounding her shin.
Silence. Not even a raven cawed.
Nora opened her eyes and pulled her face from the ground. She still lay on top of the little man and tried to move but the hose pinned her calves. She managed to shift enough for him to wiggle out. Throbbing pain made everything below her waist ignite in flames.
Behind her, the truck bed sat empty except for two rolls of hose. The remainder of the load spread across the slope, with one roll on her legs.
“Nora!” Cole appeared next to her head. He reached for her hand, his eyes searching her face. “Are you okay?”
Her throat tightened and she fought panic. Somehow Cole caused this accident in an effort to shut her up about the bribery. Her legs hurt, pain piled on all the misery of the last week, topped off with fear for her life.
Cole shouted at the driver. “Help me get this off her.”
The overweight driver scurried around Nora’s head and grunted. The weight on her legs lightened and Nora held her breath against the throbbing. It hurt like hell but she could move her legs. Celebrate life’s little victories.
Cole knelt beside her. “Can you stand up?”
She struggled for strength but her voice sounded weak. “What are you doing here?”
“What are you thinking jumping under the hose?”
“That man…” Yee-ow! No way could Nora stand. “Ankle,” she said between clenched teeth.
Cole bent over to examine the foot she raised. His lean fingers gently tested the purpling flesh.
The raw agony nearly made Nora pee. “Stop it!”
“Sorry.”
She rotated it slowly, the pain galloping all the way up her leg.
“It’s sprained. I can wrap it,” Cole said.
“Just leave me alone!”
“Hey, buddy.” The driver stood next to the hose. “What do you want me to do?”
Cole shrugged. “Finish unloading the truck and stack it.”
The driver shot Nora an annoyed look. “I was told there would be help.”
Maybe the kachina man could use a few bucks. “What about that guy?”
Both men gave her a puzzled look.
She scanned the slope, suddenly worried he’d been injured. “Where did he go?”
Cole followed her gaze. “Who?”
“That Native American guy I was talking to.”
“I didn’t see anyone,” Cole said.
Nora looked at the driver. “You saw him. I tried to shove him out of the way of the falling hose.”
The driver shrugged. “I was doing the paperwork.”
The aching in her ankle overrode everything else. “Load it, leave it. I don’t care.”
Abigail appeared out of nowhere, like she used to whenever Nora was in some kind of mischief. “What is going on?”
Cole put Nora’s arm around his shoulder. “Stack it. You’ve got a dolly on your truck.”
Nora shrugged, trying to back away from Cole.
“I gotta get back on the road, man,” the driver said.
The little guy had been right here. Where could he have gone? Was he working for Cole and Barrett, too?
The expression Abigail turned on the trucker would make a werewolf whimper. “If you looked before you unstrapped the load, you would have seen Nora and not released the strap. I’m sure your supervisor won’t like that report.”
The driver jutted his head. “Hey lady, I didn’t unstrap the hose. I was in the cab.”
He might as well start stacking hose.
Abigail pulled a cell phone from her pocket and looked at the phone number of the company advertised on the side of the truck. “Why do you suppose the hose suddenly let loose?”
The sun beat on Nora’s head, giving her maybe two minutes before her hair burst into flames. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. Let’s just move.”
Controlled anger tightened Abigail’s voice. “You might have been killed.” She glared at the driver. “Your negligence caused bodily harm, so be helpful or you could be in worse trouble.”
Nora felt sorry for the driver. He probably had nothing to do with the accident. Cole, the man who held her upright, was Nora’s main suspect.
The driver puffed up his shoulders. “I ain’t in any trouble, lady. I checked out at the yard. You don’t have nothin’ on me.”
Nora’s head and ankle throbbed in syncopation. She wanted off the slope. “Lawsuit is her middle name.”
The driver’s shoulders dropped slightly. “Whatever.”
Cole helped Nora take a step and spoke to the driver over his shoulder. “I’ll come back and help.”
In the presence of witnesses, Cole might as well help he
r to the lodge. He couldn’t make another attempt now, could he?
The slope opened wide before them with the lodge looking like it sat in another country. Each step wiggled her ankle and sent waves of hot lava shooting through her. Another day in paradise.
They hadn’t gone but a few steps when the driver called out, his tone smug. “Hey, lady. Take a look at this.”
Abigail marched to him.
The driver held one piece of strap and tugged the end from under a roll of hose. He held up both pieces.
Abigail snatched one from him. After inspecting, she dropped it and stomped toward Nora and Cole.
“I need to call the police.” She marched closer. “This will convince Officer Gary that your life is in danger and you didn’t kill Scott for the life insurance.”
Ankle, head, now all nerves. “What do you mean convince him I didn’t kill Scott?”
Abigail waved her hand at the annoyance of it all. “Gary called on your cell and I answered. He wanted to know about Scott’s life insurance so I found it. Your files are a mess.”
What about Barrett’s expensive lawyer? Nora was pretty sure he wouldn’t want Abigail handing over anything to the cops. Nora gritted her teeth at the pain in her ankle. “I don’t know who killed Scott but I’ve got a good idea who is behind this accident.” She glared at Cole.
He acted as if he didn’t know what she meant. “Use that cell phone in your pocket,” he said to Abigail.
“Battery is dead. It’s this high altitude. Nothing holds a charge for long.”
Cole laughed. “Good thing Mr. Truck Driver didn’t know that.”
Nora planted her good foot. “What is going on?”
Abigail squinted in rage. A steam engine couldn’t have been hotter. “Someone sliced the straps.”
“Cole sliced the straps, Mother.”
He froze.
Abigail laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She marched ahead then turned around. “Let’s go. Nora can’t stand out here in the sunshine on that bad ankle.”
17
Nora leaned her head against the warm siding of the lodge and closed her eyes to the sun. Resting on an old lawn chair Abigail scrounged up, her foot elevated on a stool, she reached down and patted Abbey’s head.
The Nora Abbott Mystery series Box Set Page 10