The crowd around Warren parted and Darrell stood in front of him, an ear-to-ear grin playing on his face. The boy was good. Even Warren couldn’t discern the authenticity of his smile. He grabbed Warren’s hand and gave it a warm squeeze. “What a great surprise. When did you get to town?”
“Christine and I got in around two this afternoon.” “Good flight?”
Inane conversation. He had more on his mind than the endlessly uncomfortable flight in his private jet. “Not bad. Looks like you’ve got a great crowd here.” At two hundred dollars a plate, he’d better. Of course, Moab never brought in many campaign dollars. But a vote was a vote and Darrell needed them all.
Darrell surveyed the room with satisfaction. “We’ve got a lot of good friends here. Thanks to you.”
Warren kept up his warm tone but lowered his voice a bit. “The polls have you slipping a few points.”
Darrell’s expression didn’t falter but the light hardened in his eyes. “Nothing to worry about. We have a slump in cash flow right now so we’re holding off for a media push in a couple of weeks.”
Meaning, if only Warren ponied up cash, all would be well. Darrell so cleverly blamed his declining numbers on Warren.
A waitress wearing jeans and a too-small T-shirt appeared with two beading glasses of lemonade on a tray. The shirt stretched too tight across her breasts and the jeans rode too low on her hips. Sinful, thought Warren. Darrell took the glasses from her and held one out for Warren. “Thought you might be thirsty.”
Warren accepted it and watched as Darrell drank nearly half of his glass. He probably hoped the lemon would mask the smell of the beer. His religion allowed no caffeine and definitely no alcohol. These might seem harsh and arbitrary rules, but the kosher restrictions of the Jews were equally as obtuse. God asked; man must comply. “We’ll talk later,” he said to Darrell. “You need to circulate.”
Warren turned to an aging dowager, who wanted to discuss environmental issues. He did his best to focus on the woman, but nausea threatened and he felt weak. He caught a passing waitress, handed her the lemonade, and asked for ice water instead.
When he looked up, he caught sight of a black cowboy hat. The hat dangled in Lee’s hands as he stood awkwardly in the back corner of the dining room. His mood brightened. Lee looked so much like Warren’s dear sister Lydia, right down to the perpetually worried expression. It made them appear stern when Warren knew the opposite was true.
He disregarded the pain in his bones and strode over to Lee, hand extended. The corner of Lee’s mouth ticked up. “Uncle Warren. Thought you might be here.”
“It’s good to see you supporting Darrell like this.”
Lee chuckled. “I’m here to see you, not that blowhard.”
Warren refrained from smiling. “The Lord uses everyone according to their talents.”
The worry line appeared again in Lee’s forehead. “I know you’ve been called to do great things. And I know the sacrifices you’ve made. Me and mine, we’re grateful.”
The toupee, the new suits, and the effort to appear energetic hadn’t done the trick. Lee had detected his illness. Darrell probably had, too. He took the opportunity to drop into a chair next to a table that had been shoved against the wall. Lee sat down across from him.
Warren tried to lighten the boy’s mood. “I wasn’t fishing for compliments. And before you start in with your humility and all the proof of God’s plan for you to be a steward of the land, I’m not going to lay any more burdens on you. Today.” Lee looked at him in the same grateful, trusting way he used to when Warren took him fishing or hunting or they worked cattle. “But you said you came here to see me. What about?”
Lee hesitated. “A lot of people are arriving daily.”
Warren glanced up to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard. “Is there a problem?”
Lee positioned his chair so his back was to the room, trusting Warren to keep watch. “Lisa Taylor was close, Uncle Warren. She figured out what we’re doing. If she hadn’t died, we’d have been exposed.”
Warren nodded. He couldn’t let anyone know how shaken the incident made him feel.
Lee focused on Warren’s face. “Rachel said that Trust woman thinks Lisa was murdered.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
Lee exhaled in relief. “I hoped you’d handle it this time. With you here, it won’t be as much a problem as it was with Lisa.”
There. That’s what Warren looked for. “You’re a faithful servant, Lee.”
The lines in Lee’s forehead deepened. “I’m here to defend God’s plan from the people who wouldn’t understand.”
Warren offered a gentle smile. “I’ll let you know if I need you. And until then keep doing what you’re doing—living a righteous life, keeping God’s principles, and protecting the lands he gave us.”
Lee pushed his chair back and stood. He made room for Warren to rise. Despite his effort to appear strong, Warren leaned heavily on the table. He stumbled and Lee grabbed Warren’s elbows. With the strength that told of his days of physical labor, he righted Warren. As soon as Warren felt solid, Lee stepped back, deftly turning them so Warren faced away from the room and Lee looked into the room. Warren took a moment to regain his balance and wipe the strain from his face. Lee pretended not to notice. “No doubt you and Christine will want to stay here for a while. I’ll send Tessa around with some fresh eggs and produce.” He paused to see if Warren felt up to answering and then continued. “I know Christine has a fond spot for Tessa. And Tessa thinks the world of Christine.” As he spoke, Lee’s eyes traveled the room as though searching for anyone who would dare harm Warren here.
Warren willed his legs to be like thick pine branches. He demanded his queasy stomach to calm. He only needed to stay a few more minutes, then he could make excuses that Christine was tired after traveling and he could retreat home to his bed. He looked up, ready to get the ordeal over with.
Lee’s face reminded Warren of the cow dog he’d had as a youngster. His eyes shone with purpose as he zeroed in on his prey. The rest of his body seemed ready to strike. Warren swiveled around to see what caught Lee’s attention.
A young woman with coppery hair that swung around her face spoke with Darrell. She smiled briefly but seemed to be concerned with the business at hand. Instead of a dress or slacks, she wore khaki shorts and hiking boots. By the dust on her well-worn hiking shirt, it seemed she’d just stepped off the trail.
Lee’s voice sounded like a growl. “That’s her. Nora Abbott. The woman from the Trust.” It did seem like the red-head had a feisty edge to her. “We’ve got to deal with her before she causes us trouble.”
“I don’t like what happened to Lisa and I’d hate for it to happen again. Let’s see if I can’t send Ms. Abbott on her way.”
Lee’s mouth clamped shut. He’d never been one to argue. Not that he gave in. Words never meant a lot to Lee.
Warren approached Darrell and Nora Abbott. She seemed agitated. “Did you know he worked there? Would he tamper with my brakes?”
Lee’s mouth clamped shut. He’d never been one to argue. Darrell leaned closer, his face wreathed in concern. “Do you have any proof? The sheriff in this county is—”
“Mormon and won’t help me. I know. Someone messed with Lisa’s brakes, too.”
Darrell’s frown of distress pleased Warren. “We can’t talk here.
Meet me tonight.”
She obviously didn’t like the brush-off, but she nodded briskly and turned. She smacked into Warren. “Excuse me.”
He put out a hand as if to steady her, but it was more to keep himself from toppling. Her eyes flew open in recognition. Immediately she snapped her head to the right, then left, then over his shoulder as though looking for someone. People often wanted their friends to witness their brush with celebrity. She frowned briefly and returned her attention to him. “Mr. Evans.”
He gave her his easy grin, the one investors trusted. “And you’re Nora Abbott from Li
ving Earth Trust. Darrell has told me about the accident involving that young woman making a film.”
Before she had a chance to respond, Warren continued. “I’m a great supporter of expanding Canyonlands boundaries.” She looked skeptical. “I’ve looked into Living Earth Trust and am impressed with your organization’s stellar reputation. I’d like to make a sizable contribution.”
Her eyes lit up. “We’re always looking for additional funding.” “I’ve got some Hollywood connections. We’ll get a top-notch videographer, writers, and a director. Let me see what I can do,” he said. She sighed. “That would be great, except we need the film before
Congress votes in two weeks.”
Warren made sure to look disappointed and concerned. “That’s not good. However, they’ll vote again. This subject comes up often. Having spent a lifetime following political dog fights, my advice is that you present your strongest testimonial and not dilute it with a less than professional film. Then channel your resources on a spectacular film. I do have an in with Robert Redford.” For added impact, he acted as if he’d just thought of it. “Or even Ken Burns.”
She seemed to consider his pitch. Most people would have been salivating over an offer like that. He didn’t need unbridled enthusiasm. He just needed her to back off—and by the time she received any word from him, it would all be over.
Darrell’s grin flashed with charm. “Wow! Ken Burns. That would be perfect. Do you think you could do that?”
“But it wouldn’t come up for vote again for a year at the soonest, probably later,” Nora said.
“That’s unfortunate. But we don’t have much choice, do we? Perhaps you and Darrell can make a compelling enough statement to bring in the vote now. Just in case, let’s start the ball rolling for the next round and come back swinging.” Money, celebrity, promises of future success—he’d given her a golden triangle of reasons to leave town.
Darrell continued to cheerlead. “This is the best news we’ve had since…” His face contorted in sorrow before he went on. “Lisa would have been thrilled.”
Time to close the sale. “Do you have a card? Never mind. I know I can contact you at Living Earth Trust. That’s in Boulder, correct? I’ll make some calls and get back to you early next week.”
24
Warren stepped from the noisy, cool restaurant onto the wooden boardwalk. He let the heavy log door bump closed behind him. He’d put in his appearance, made his generous offer to Nora Abbott, and said his goodbyes.
Christine had been right behind him, but one of her fans must have sidetracked her. Christine loved her admiring public, but probably enjoyed making him wait. She knew he wanted to get back to their spacious home by the creek.
He leaned against the side of the restaurant and watched as cars and RVs zipped past on the highway. Across the valley the cliffs rose in familiar splendor. It wasn’t in his destiny to lead his people to the new land but here, this harsh and rugged place, was his promised land. He thanked God for letting him come home.
He pushed himself upright and stepped across the boardwalk and down into the gravel. He held his head high, his shoulders erect. Not long ago, that posture wouldn’t have required conscious thought. Careful steps carried him across a rutted parking lot. With daily monsoon showers, the dirt lot stayed damp with muddy puddles.
His eye caught sight of a petite woman with blonde hair standing beside a beat-up Jeep. His breath caught as it always did when he saw someone like this. The reaction had been his personal torture for the last thirty years. He never forgot her. Every blonde woman with that height and build shot him back in time for a split second and his heart cracked every time.
Of course, none of those women ever turned out to be her.
This woman stood with her back to him. It wasn’t her, either, but seeing someone so similar in this place stole another beat of his heart. He didn’t have many to spare, but he’d willingly give one to her. He started to look away just as she moved her head to give him a view of her profile.
The world stopped.
A swell of blood rose through him, rushed to his arms and legs, and surged through every cell. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. And yet, she stood in front of him.
Unconsciously, he moved until he found himself by her side. He heard his own choked voice before he realized he spoke. “Abigail.”
She squeaked and jerked around, her hand at her throat. Blood rushed to her face and her eyes, still crystal blue, flew open. She stepped back and flattened herself against the side of the Jeep.
Warren reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. “You are still so beautiful,” he told her.
She swallowed hard. “Get away from me.”
He understood her shock. They hadn’t seen one another for at least thirty years. No doubt he’d aged beyond her imagination, especially as a result of the cancer. She’d probably aged as well. She had to be almost sixty. Yet to his eyes, she looked the same as she did almost every night in his dreams. “Abigail, I … ”
Christine’s voice chirped from behind him. “There you are. I’m ready to go.”
He couldn’t turn away from Abigail, even though he knew he had to. If he closed his eyes or looked away, she might disappear forever. He’d learned to live without her for so long. But now that she stood close, now that God had put her back in his life, he couldn’t let her go again.
“Warren?” Christine said.
Abigail brushed past him and hurried to the passenger side of the Jeep. She climbed inside, locked the door, and stared straight ahead.
Christine put a hand on his arm and shifted her gaze from him to Abigail and back. “Ready?”
A trickle of air leaked into his lungs and he blinked, fighting to appear normal. “Of course.” He forced himself not to glance back at the woman in the Jeep as he followed Christine’s elegant stride to the Caddy.
They opened their respective doors and slid inside. Christine let out a relieved breath. “Thank God you cut it short. All these people want to talk about is environmental issues and Darrell Burke’s future.” Warren backed out of the parking space, his breath still ragged,
his head a muddle of memories and desire.
He put the Caddy in gear.
The door of the restaurant opened and Nora Abbott walked out. She scanned the lot, then headed in the direction of the Jeep. Warren couldn’t help but follow her with his eyes. She gave him an excuse to look in Abigail’s direction and maybe catch sight of her again.
He expected Nora Abbott to climb into the sedan parked next to the Jeep. But she didn’t. She pulled open the driver’s door and plopped inside, her lips moving in conversation.
Nora Abbott and his Abigail. What was the connection?
25
Nora jumped into the driver’s seat. Abigail sat in the passenger seat, her head held at an angle, staring ahead, ramrod straight like a steel statue. Abbey sat up in back, greeted Nora with a cold nose to her cheek, and turned his attention to the windshield to help Nora watch the road.
“What’s the matter?” Nora asked.
Abigail appeared every bit as frightened as when the Jeep caromed down the mesa. “Nothing.”
Nora exhaled in frustration. “Mother.”
Abigail spied her from the corner of her eye without turning her head. “I can’t stand that man.”
“Which man?”
“Warren Evans. He’s a scoundrel and a cheat.”
Knowing how Abigail admired wealth, this news surprised her. “That sounds personal.”
“It is.”
“You know Warren Evans?”
Abigail folded her arms and stared straight ahead.“Okay, cough it up. How do you know him and why didn’t you tell me about it?”
Abigail spoke through tight lips. “Did Darrell tell you anything about Polaris or Lee Evans?”
Nora started the engine. “Don’t evade the question. What about Warren Evans?”
Abigail’s jaw twitched with her clenched teeth.
Without turning from the windshield, she said, “We knew him in college.”
“We, as in you and my father? Evans went to CU?” She didn’t remember that from the bios of the tycoon she’d read while in business school. What she knew was that he was from southern Utah, had grown up poor, built a windshield repair business that he leveraged to buy another company, and had kept adding and building businesses. He eventually became a corporate raider, had more money than anyone could count, and freely donated to charities.
“Only for a year or so, then he transferred to Yale.” “And you were friends?”
Abigail reddened in agitation. “I wouldn’t call it that.” Nora grinned. “You had a thing, didn’t you?”
“Stop it!” Abigail shouted the words. They echoed in the quiet Jeep, swallowed by Nora’s shock. Abigail still hadn’t turned from the windshield. “Just drop it. Tell me what Darrell had to say.”
Nora backed out of the parking spot, wrenched the steering wheel, and edged around the lot toward the exit. She strained to the right to make sure no one was driving through the alley.
Wait!
Her eye caught the white of Lee’s pickup. She slammed on the brakes as Abbey scrambled to stay on the backseat.
“What in heaven’s name?” Abigail gasped.
Nora gestured to the white pickup parked by the restaurant’s back door. “Lee’s pickup.”
Abigail eyed the vehicle, then Nora.
“For a man that makes his living off the land, he sure spends a lot of time in town.”
“Was Lee Evans at the bookstore after Lisa’s funeral? Is he the sour-faced man with the black hat?” Abigail’s forehead wrinkled.
“That’s him,” Nora affirmed.
Abigail settled back into the seat. “He seems to have anger issues. You remember Margie Bowen. Her husband went through a behavior modification course to learn to control his temper. Might do Lee Evans some good.”
Nora drummed her fingers on the wheel, thinking. “Lee works part time for Polaris. Lisa’s brakes went out recently, then our brakes went out. Plus, Lee ran me off the road after the funeral.”
The Nora Abbott Mystery series Box Set Page 70