The spotless Bentley eased to the curb and Warren braced to step out, knowing his neuropathy would shoot pain into his feet. “I won’t be long, so circle around.”
Ben nodded. “Sure thing, Mr. Evans.”
Ben’s easy manner and friendliness saddened Warren. He’d always liked Ben, ever since he’d brought him here from Salt Lake City thirteen years ago. Back then, Ben had been a homeless runaway, just one of the countless others Warren had given a hand up.
Warren pulled himself out and patted the top of the car to send it off. He pushed aside the stinging in his feet and strode through the bustling crowd to the glass doors and into the plush office building. He rode the elevator twenty-one stories up and exited to one of his shell corporation’s headquarters. The attractive receptionist, who had no idea what business was transacted there, greeted him. “They are in the conference room waiting.”
Warren liked to personally greet the new immigrants whenever possible. A good leader took the time to know his followers, and even though Warren wouldn’t go forward with them, giving them individual attention would create a more cohesive group.
He entered the window-lined conference room with a grin. “Welcome to America. How was your flight?”
The straight-backed man looked exhausted. From the carefully vetted application and extensive Skype interviews, Warren knew Hans had made a respectable fortune in construction in Germany. At forty-five, he’d never had any serious health issues, left behind no siblings, and his parents were deceased. His wife, Katrina, likewise had no extended family. They had brought their four children with them.
Katrina and the children looked equally worn out by the overnight flight from Germany. Two boys, ages six and eight, sat together in one leather chair. The oldest, a girl of thirteen, blinked bleary eyes at Warren. Katrina leaned back in another chair with their youngest, a cherub with pink cheeks and dark ringlets who stretched across her lap, sleeping.
Hans jumped to his feet and shook Warren’s hand with enthusiasm. “Mr. Evans. I’m honored. I had no idea you would meet us personally.” His English, though precise, was heavily accented and halting. Warren insisted all the immigrants speak English.
At the sound of voices, the little girl opened her eyes. She flashed an immediate smile and sat up, rubbing a hand across her nose. With that minor transition between sleep and play, she slid off her mother’s lap and hopped to the two boys. Her little tennis shoes twinkled with lights in the heels.
Hans glanced at her but didn’t give her his complete attention. He seemed oblivious to the precious gift of his daughter. Abundance bred thoughtlessness. If he could, Warren would have scooped her up just to hear her giggle. He’d tousle those soft curls, tell her a story, grant her every wish.
Hans’s eager eyes sought Warren. “You are a man of true vision. I can see that God speaks through you.” His voice sounded sincere even if his words felt prepared.
Warren tried to deflect adoration. “God speaks to us all if we listen. As scripture tells us, we all have the capability to become brothers to Jesus Christ.”
Hans nodded eagerly. “Yes. Yes. I believe and that’s why we’ve come to join you.”
Katrina’s worried smile showed a little less enthusiasm, but joining her husband demonstrated obedience, a trait lacking in most modern women.
Warren’s feet throbbed and he needed to return to the penthouse to rest. “You’ll be met at the airport in Denver and given keys to a vehicle big enough for your family and luggage. Maps to Moab will be inside.”
“Thank you, Mr. Evans,” Hans said.
“It’s best if you go straight to the compound. But if you get lost, my nephew’s phone number is included with the maps.”
Katrina stood and thanked Warren with a more fluid English than Hans. “I have studied the scriptures, taking special interest in those you pointed out. I see how the timing is perfect, how this is what God asks of us. I appreciate you allowing us, our children, for inclusion.”
The praise the immigrants heaped on him made him uncomfortable. “There are still a couple of days until the solstice, so enjoy the beautiful scenery. The compound is isolated, but be vigilant and stay out of sight.”
They thanked him again and Warren turned to leave.
Before he pulled the door open, he gave in to his desire. Even though it cost him the pain of several extra steps, he went to the little girl and placed his hand on her head. To Hans and Katrina, it probably looked like Warren was blessing her. In reality, the feel of the soft curls and skin still warm from sleep blessed him.
10
Despite the blazing mid-day sun, Nora felt chilled. Clutching Lisa’s ashes, she trudged around the bookstore to the parking lot. Local antagonism over the feds snatching more land ran high. Lisa had been accosted in restaurants and lambasted in the local paper. But would the locals feel threatened enough to kill her?
Marlene’s ominous insinuation had to be the fallout from grief and anger.
Still, Lisa had sounded scared in that voicemail.
Nora shivered in the shade as she stood in the alley next to the bookstore. She glanced up to see if clouds had moved in for an afternoon monsoon rain. A flash of blue in her peripheral vision made her freeze.
Someone had scribbled graffiti on the side of the bookstore, too high to reach on foot. In blue spray paint they’d imitated countless rock art figures throughout the Southwest. This collection of drawings consisted of big-headed figures with antennae, the profile of a saucer-shaped boat with a person sitting in it, and some giant human-type figures holding goats or antelope in their hands. Toward the bottom the symbol from her dream jumped out at her. Three concentric circles, sort of like a target, with six sets of two parallel lines radiating out-ward. It looked like a weird sunburst. Goose bumps rose on her arms.
Oh, for heaven’s sake. Her imagination was up to its usual mischief. Shaking her head, she crossed the lot to the Jeep. She balanced the box on her hip, pulled the Jeep key from her pocket, and unlocked the door. Abbey uncurled himself from where he’d slept in the passenger seat and stood. He delicately stepped over the gear shift, wagging his tail in greeting. He stuck his nose toward Nora for a hello pat and jumped from the Jeep.
Darrell popped around the corner of the bookstore. His face lit up when he saw Nora. “Hi again.”
Nora couldn’t help but notice Darrell’s good looks. If he hadn’t gone into politics, he would have made a terrific movie star. Even his saunter spoke of assurance laced with an animal sensuality. A comparison to John F. Kennedy hit her. Women voted for Kennedy in droves because of the same qualities she observed heading toward her across the broken blacktop of the parking lot.
Abbey lifted his head at Darrell and stepped up to greet him. Darrell bent down and offered Abbey the back of his hand to sniff, then rubbed him behind the ears. “This your dog? He’s a handsome old guy.”
Nora glowed with affection for him. “Abbey’s like any gentleman—the gray around the muzzle only adds to his distinction.”
Darrell laughed. “I’ll remember to resist the Grecian formula when my time comes. Abbey? But he’s a male?”
Unbidden, Nora’s mind flashed to an older Darrell with a smidgeon of salt to go with his pepper-dark hair.
Cole. She loved Cole. An immediate rush of warmth surged through her again. Strong, capable, kind, and funny Cole. She missed him even though it had only been a few days since they’d gone in different directions. No wonder he’d said he loved her on the phone. He was feeling that tug, too. “He’s named after Edward Abbey.”
Darrell considered that with a tilt of his head. “The conservationist. That makes sense. Are you staying in Moab tonight?”
Nora motioned for Abbey to climb into the Jeep. “I’ve got to go to Castle Valley. Abigail and Charlie took Rachel home, and I’m still on Lisa duty.” She indicated the box.
Sadness fell on Darrell’s face. “I can’t wrap my head around Lisa being gone.”
Nora placed th
e box on the floor in the back seat and wedged a backpack and fleece pullover around it. “I’ll get in touch when I find the film.”
He stepped to her door after she climbed in and said, leaning over her window, “I’m available for whatever you need.”
“Thanks.” She turned the key. A weak sound like the final movement of a wind-up toy rose from the engine and faded. She twisted the key again, and this time a click greeted her. One more twist resulted in the same click.
Darrell raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like you’ve got trouble.”
She tried once more. Nothing. Drat—and lots of other words she didn’t want to blurt out. Slamming the steering wheel wouldn’t solve her problem and would only make her look like a spoiled brat in front of Darrell, so she clenched her fists in her lap. She reached for her pack to find her phone. “I’ll call Abigail and Charlie.”
Darrell put a hand on hers to stop her from dialing. “Don’t do that. I’ll take you to Rachel’s.”
“But it’s twenty miles.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I know where it is.”
Of course he did. This was his district. She hated to impose on him but couldn’t stand the thought of prolonging Rachel’s ride by making Abigail return for her. “Okay, thanks. That would be great. I saw a Conoco station a couple of blocks up the street. Can we stop there and see if they can work on it?”
He opened her door and she slid out.
He pulled his phone from his back pocket. “That place will gouge you. They feed off tourists. I know a better place.” He dialed and arranged for a tow while Nora let Abbey out and grabbed her pack that contained an extra change of clothes and the barest of necessities. If Abigail was true to form, she might have scored a suite somewhere in town where Nora could crash on the sofa for the night.
Darrell slid his phone into his pocket. “All arranged. Ready?” He led them to a shiny dark blue Toyota 4Runner.
“I’m sorry about Abbey,” Nora said. “You probably aren’t used to hauling dogs around in your backseat.”
Darrell grinned at the dog. “I live in Moab. Keeping a vehicle clean is a challenge I deal with regularly.” He pointed a key fob at the back window and it slid down. He reached in and pulled out an old blanket.
Nora set Lisa’s box in the back and tossed her pack beside it. Darrell spread the blanket in the backseat, let Abbey jump in, and he and Nora settled in the front seat.
The 4Runner sported leather seats and a black interior. It felt like riding on a cloud compared to Nora’s geriatric Jeep.
Darrell glanced at her. “So tell me about Nora Abbott.”
She gave him a sideways glance. “Going all politician on me?” He tilted his head back and laughed. “Got me.”
“Why don’t you tell me about you instead?”
He shifted his eyes toward her. “That’s a boring story.” “We’ve got a half-hour. Bore me.”
11
Nora admired the beauty of massive red and black cliffs as they rose on either side of the highway that wound along the Colorado River east out of Moab. She inhaled the heated afternoon air that blew in the open window. Willows, Russian olives, and tamarisk lined the banks and whipped in the afternoon wind. At this point in its journey, the Colorado hadn’t gained the power and wildness that was its trademark as it made its way through the Grand Canyon. But it ran high enough to accommodate adventurers in their colorful rafts bouncing in the waves.
Rain clouds built in the distance to fuel the over-active monsoon rains of this season.
“That’s a big sigh,” Darrell said.
Nora dug for a smile. “I was thinking about all the river trips Lisa and I took together.”
Darrell laughed. “I joined her on a trip last year. We were having trouble getting funding for the Canyonlands film, and she decided to invite a few potential donors for a river trip.”
“Since she ended up coming to the Trust for money, I’m assuming the trip didn’t go well,” Nora commented.
He gave her an irresistible grin that promised whatever adventure he cooked up was sure to be fun. “It started off great. We had sunshine and a light breeze to keep the bugs at bay. But things went downhill pretty fast when one of the older gentlemen kept ordering Lisa around like she was a waitress.”
“Uh-oh.”
“You know how everyone takes turns with chores on a river trip? This guy didn’t do anything. Two nights before we pulled out of the river, we were sitting around the campfire after dinner. Lisa and I had just finished cleaning up the dishes and settled in with the group when this old duffer raised his empty glass and nodded at Lisa to get him a refill of wine.”
“Did she toss him into the river or just his sleeping bag?” “Actually, Lisa smiled as sweetly as I’ve ever seen and took his cup.
I thought maybe she would sacrifice her pride for the good of the film.”
Nora laughed.
“Yeah, I didn’t know her very well then.” “So what did she do?”
“She walked back with the last two bottles of expensive cab he’d brought along. When I saw the look on her face I jumped up, but I was too late. She lifted the bottles and poured them on the rocks of the fire ring.”
Nora could envision Lisa’s fiery eyes. “He was lucky.”
“Classic Lisa.” Darrell laughed. “It took all of my people skills to keep him from decking her. I’m not sure he ever understood what he’d done wrong.”
“Lisa was okay with you defending her?”
The twinkle in his eyes showed his shrewdness. “She didn’t know about it and I wasn’t going to tell her. As far as she knew, he realized his error and donated much less than she’d hoped.”
“I see why you’re a successful politician.”
“Ouch.” He grew serious. “I didn’t do it for a vote. I’m pretty sure I lost that one. I did it because we needed the cash for the film. It’s important work.”
“Yes. But politicians tend to do what’s expedient for their careers, not necessarily what’s right.”
Red cliffs blackened by unrelenting sun rose in majestic splendor on Nora’s right. Rows of tourist cabins nestled in a grassy meadow that led to the river on the left.
Darrell glanced at her, then back to the road. “You’re right, of course. And I’ll admit to a little hedging here and there. Quid pro quo. But not on something this serious.”
“A sincere politician?” The resignation in his eyes made her regret she’d teased him.
“People never trust my integrity. But I was raised to do what I believe is right. We lived on a ranch and worked hard. I learned that if you ever want to gain a person’s trust, you’ve got to do what you say. There’s no faking true belief.”
“You’ve never taken a stand you didn’t believe in just to get the votes?”
His dark eyes, full of good humor, flicked to her again. “Not on the big issues. And Canyonlands is huge. If we destroy the land, it can’t be replaced. And the cultural sites, the rock art, and archaeological treasures are beyond value. I can’t compromise on that.”
“What makes you so committed to this place?”
“It’s in my blood,” he said. “My family is from around here. I believe in my legacy as a son of Utah.”
She tried to gauge his sincerity.
One eyebrow cocked up in humor. “You’re doubting me.” “How could I question you?” she teased. “You’re our voice of Canyonlands. Single-handedly, you’re carrying our message to Congress.”
He waved his hand in a come-on motion. “And I’m ruggedly handsome and completely irresistible.”
No denying Darrell was attractive, but he couldn’t compete with Cole for her heart.
He grew serious. “I was born here. But what most people don’t know is that my mother was one of three wives.”
“Polygamists?” She couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice.
He nodded with a sad smile. “It’s not in my official bio, so this is between you and me. When I was fourteen, my fa
ther kicked me off the ranch. He’d picked my half-brother as successor and didn’t want any other men around the place.”
“Fourteen?”
“It’s pretty young. But I got some help to get to Salt Lake City and I managed to finish school. That’s when I met Warren Evans.”
“THE Warren Evans? Bourne Enterprises Warren Evans?” Darrell grinned.
“With a friend like that, I’ll bet you don’t have to set up many campaign fundraisers.”
A slight frown creased Darrell’s face, then disappeared. “Warren may be wealthy, but he’s frugal. Probably has to do with his Mormon upbringing. He didn’t give me cash outright, but he buried my embarrassing past so deep no one will find it. Now my bio simply says I was raised by a single mother.” He eyed her. “Again, this is not for public consumption.”
“Why are you trusting me with this? We just met.”
He chuckled. “I’m an amazing judge of character. That, and you’re Lisa’s best friend. That’s good enough for me.”
She frowned at him.
“Okay. I feel like maybe you understand what it’s like to not always fit in.”
How did he know this? She squirmed, not comfortable with confessions. “Maybe I’ve never really felt like I belong, but my upbringing wasn’t nearly as traumatic as yours. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
He shrugged. “Makes me stronger. Why did you feel like an outsider?”
He had a way of making her want to talk, which was unusual for her. “Sounds cliché, but I didn’t have a father. I didn’t fit with the geeks, even though I got good grades. I didn’t fit with the druggies, and I wasn’t an athlete.”
“What happened to your father?”
Her father. Now that was a mystery. What was he like? If he’d had the chance, would he have loved Nora, nurtured and raised her? “My mother manufactured a tale about a young man who fell out of love and left. She wanted me to dislike him so I’d never search out my roots.”
“Why would she do that? Is he a celebrity?”
Nora shook her head. “I’ve never been able to decipher Abigail’s thought process.” The truth turned out to be more complicated than the fiction. “My father was a Hopi. Don’t ask me where my red hair comes from; that might be a mystery I never solve.”
The Nora Abbott Mystery series Box Set Page 61