Tattered Legacy (A Nora Abbott Mystery)

by Shannon Baker

  Abigail relaxed a little. She didn’t mention Dan again, but she no longer prattled with nervous energy. They drove to a few more overlooks, commenting on the beauty of the landscapes and sharing bits and pieces of their day-to-day lives.

  The sun reached its zenith. They’d eaten the balance of the granola bars and shared water with Abbey. “Do you feel like taking a short hike?” Nora asked.

  Abigail shrugged. “If you promise it will be a short one. I don’t want to get stuck on a forced march. And it better be on a level path.”

  “I’d like to walk in Fiery Furnace. Then we can head back to town and I’ll buy you lunch.”

  Nora pulled into the parking lot at the site. They climbed out and Nora waited for Abigail to slather herself with sweet-smelling sunscreen. The desert sun hit Nora’s skin and she could almost hear it sizzle. She reached into the back of the Jeep for her own unscented sunscreen spray. It didn’t help the heat, but it’d keep her from crisping.

  A wood fence blocked the trailhead that led to a one-track path a short distance across a flat plane and wound into an impenetrable stand of fins and spires. Heat waves warped the view across the valley in the opposite direction. A sign at the trailhead warned hikers that they couldn’t enter the maze of stone without a permit and a guide. Nora slipped around it and onto the trail.

  “We aren’t permitted in here,” Abigail said, standing her ground.

  Nora cast around for witnesses, saw they were alone, and waved her mother in. “If we hurry, we can get behind the stones before someone sees us.”

  Abigail glanced behind her. “This isn’t a good idea,” she protested, but hurried after Nora.

  They followed the path threading through the fins of stone. The close formations caused them to squeeze between the narrow passages. Could she dislodge another anecdote from Abigail? Nora felt a greedy need for more of her father, but maybe she’d have to be content with one story, albeit one indelicate and incredibly crude by her mother’s usual standards, but so telling.

  They walked on, breathing in hot air, conserving their water with small sips. She unclipped Abbey from his leash and followed his plodding pace. An unusual change in rock color caught Nora’s attention and she veered off the trail to wind through a few fins, hoping to find the petroglyphs Lisa had told her about. The rocks were warm under her hands as she maneuvered through tight places.

  “Where are you taking us?” Abigail didn’t sound pleased.

  “I thought there might be a rock art panel here, but it’s just weathered rock.”

  “Shouldn’t we go back to the trail?” Abigail asked.

  Nora tried to get her bearings and looked for a trail. “I’m not sure where it is.”

  Abigail put her hands on her hips. “I knew we shouldn’t have come in here without a guide!”

  Nora waved her hand. “No big deal. We’ll head back toward the trailhead and get there eventually.”

  Abigail held up her bottle. “I hope that’s not a long time. I’m nearly out of water and this heat is withering me.”

  “We’ve only been out here for a half hour or so. I’m sure you won’t dehydrate.”

  “I’m glad you have confidence.” She glared at Nora. “You take the lead. This place is a maze.”

  Nora sidled around Abigail in the narrow passage and Abbey struggled to get ahead of them. Nora studied the scenery, trying to put herself in Lisa’s head. Where would she hike that she accidently ran into petroglyphs?

  She studied the rock around her, peering into crevices as they walked. She followed Abbey’s red flag of a tail, already rounding another sharp turn, and nearly smacked into a wall of stone.

  Abbey disappeared into a tight passage but Nora stopped in the shade to wait for Abigail. She uncapped her water bottle and tilted her head to take a gulp of warm water, halting as something grabbed her attention.

  She gasped and stepped back to get the whole impression. An amazing assortment of images were etched in the rock above her head. The panel measured about six feet wide and four feet tall and started twenty feet above the ground. Either erosion had dug a path or the artists had stood on some sort of bench. The faint designs scratched in the rock could easily be missed if a hiker wasn’t paying close attention.

  Nora leaned in, a sense of awe she always felt when viewing something so ancient washing over her. A person had stood here a thousand years ago or more. A real someone who loved and struggled and laughed, worried about survival or wondering about God. That person had taken the time to chisel this rock, and the images must have been filled with meaning because carving on rock deep enough to last for millennia was no idle undertaking.

  This artist, or artists, had created a hodgepodge of images. Human shapes with large, almost triangular bodies and tiny stick arms and legs shared space with unmistakable images of birds and snakes. Other figures weren’t as easy to place. Some looked like they might be turtles or big bugs. Goats or deer ran alongside a boxlike creature that looked sort of like ET. There was even a boat shape, like a half moon on its side, with a figure sitting inside. Big circles, like giant ears, stuck out from the head of the boatman.

  Panting behind her that didn’t sound like Abbey. She glanced over her shoulder to see Abigail leaning against a spire. Her eyes looked panicked in her pale face.

  “What is it?” Nora put a hand to Abigail’s forehead to check her temperature. It didn’t seem warm enough outside for heat exhaustion. Abigail was nearing sixty but in good shape. Was it a heart attack?

  Abigail waved Nora’s hand off her face. “Fine. I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.”

  Nora understood. It wasn’t heat stroke or heart attack. Fear. It radiated off Abigail’s skin. She followed Abigail’s gaze to the rock art panel. “What scares you?”

  Abigail chuckled, but it sounded more like choking. “Don’t be silly. I’m not afraid.”

  Nora studied the rock. Humans, other animal shapes, a few strange lines. Toward the bottom of the panel she noticed something familiar. The weird sunburst shape. The same design on the graffiti at the Read Rock and in her dream. Her heart stammered, too. “Did you come here with my father?”

  Abigail shifted from foot to foot. “Yes. No. Oh, how do I know? Red rocks, sand, arches. It’s all the same. Here or in Canyonlands or anywhere else.”

  Nora stared at the rock again. “Is this what Lisa wanted me to see?” she wondered out loud.

  “What?” Abigail sounded irritated.

  Nora pointed. “That symbol with the lines. It keeps popping up.”

  Abigail squinted at the panel. “Dan liked that. After he saw it here, he used to doodle it.”

  “Do you know what it means?”

  Abigail waved her hand. “Who knows? Whatever you want, I suppose.”

  “My father never said?”

  “I never asked. Let’s just go.”

  Nora lowered her gaze to meet her mother’s. “Why are you so upset?”

  “I’m not upset. Rachel’s right. You need to leave things alone. There are enough wilderness places around here to satisfy everyone. Come on. I’m hungry and want to get out of this heat.”

  Something about the rock art crawled under Abigail’s skin. Nora needed to coax it out. They squeezed through the tight passage behind the fins and intersected a worn path.

  Abigail tore down the trail. She seemed to have developed a whole new level of fitness, winding in and out of the rock towers and pushing Abbey to keep ahead of her. Nora thought about the symbols on the rock panel. It had something to do with her father. She was sure of it. That’s the only connection Abigail would have with Native American history. Her father, the rock art, and Lisa’s murder. They couldn’t all be coincidence, she thought.

  Abigail practically ran the last quarter mile to the Jeep. She stood by the passenger door, her arms crossed and her face tight with tension. �
�Where should we eat?”

  Nora unlocked the door. She pulled Abbey’s collapsible dish out of the back seat and filled it with the last of her water. He lapped it up. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

  When Abbey finished his water and jumped in back, they loaded up and headed across the mesa and the switchbacks that led to the park exit.

  “How many days did you and Dan spend in Arches?” Nora probed as carefully as she could.

  “I don’t know, three or four days,” her mother responded curtly.

  “Did you like it here?” Nora rolled down her window. She inhaled the new growth and sunshine on the breeze. It smelled green and blue and yellow, alive with the unusually wet season.

  Abigail’s shoulders hiked up with tension. “I was in love. It wouldn’t have mattered if we had toured the moon.”

  “What about Dan? There must have been a reason he brought you here.” She steered around the gentle slopes, tapping the brakes in order to keep an easy speed.

  “I guess. I don’t know. He said it is an important place and he seemed interested in the rock art.” Abigail slapped her palms on her leg. “Can we please drop it? Bringing me here makes me sad. He was a good man and he never got a chance to grow old. Like Lisa. We need to let them rest in peace.”

  A meadowlark’s song swirled into the window and around Nora’s head. She rounded a curve and headed down the mountainside. The park maintained the road and it was nothing like the narrow, twisting ribbon on the side of Mount Evans outside of Denver. Thinking about that piece of highway leading up to a fourteen thousand-foot peak made Nora break into a sweat.

  She gripped the wheel. She was driving too fast. She’d miss a curve. This road descending toward the visitors’ center didn’t have the hairpin turns of the Mount Evans route, but there were switchbacks and Nora was going too fast to navigate around them.

  “Nora, why are you pumping the brakes?” Abigail’s voice cut into Nora’s concentration.

  “What? Oh. I’m … ” Get a grip, Nora.

  “You’re driving like a bat out of Hell.” Abigail raised her voice. It brought back memories of the one time she’d taken Nora out to teach her to drive. No surprise—Nora had a heavy foot and didn’t stop at the stop sign long enough and nearly got them killed in traffic. Berle had taken over driver training after that.

  “I’m fine. This is a good road.” Nora agreed that she should slow down, too, but reacted automatically to Abigail’s complaint.

  “You’re scaring me!”

  Nora tapped the brakes, but instead, the Jeep gained a little more speed. Nora stepped harder on the brakes, but didn’t feel any resistance. The hillside out her window blurred. The speedometer needle inched further to the right.

  Nora slammed on the brakes.

  Nothing.

  “What’s going on?” Abigail clutched the dash in a panic.

  Nora pumped her foot, but she met no pressure from the pedal. “The brakes aren’t working!” Sweat lined her face, yet she felt cold all over.

  The wind roared. The wheels sounded like a train in Nora’s head. Her vision narrowed, seeing only the strip of pavement in front of her.

  She tried to remember the road when they’d driven up earlier. How many turns? How sharp? She hadn’t paid attention and now couldn’t conjure it up.

  A yellow diamond sign warned of a curve ahead. Nora automatically hit the brakes again and the action unleashed jolts of panic. She held her breath and gripped the wheel, terrified by the upcoming bend. A boulder the size of the USS Arizona sat on the outside of the road. If they didn’t make the turn, they’d smash into the side, creating their own gruesome rock art of blood and bone.

  They’d never stay upright if Nora stuck to her own lane. The narrow wheelbase of the Jeep would cause it to flip at this speed. If she crossed the center line and someone came uphill on the curve, Nora would smash into them.

  She strained to see past where the road swerved. Was another vehicle coming? What should she do? The pavement started to turn. She concentrated on the double yellow line in the middle of the road. Her shoulders felt like steel with her hands welded to the steering wheel. As the curve tightened, she edged to the outside, venturing into the opposite lane.

  The wind, the squeal of the tires, and Abigail’s screams all combined in a mind hurricane, blocking out everything but automatic action. They rounded the corner with the grill of an ocean liner of an SUV looming a few feet ahead of them.

  A screaming horn penetrated Nora’s brain. Her hands jerked the wheel to the right before she could form a thought. They swerved out of the SUV’s path, the protesting horn following their flight. The Jeep’s right tires dropped off the pavement. Abigail screamed again.

  The raw cliff face loomed inches from the passenger window. The outside mirror exploded as it tore away from the door. Nora yanked the wheel to the left. The Jeep swung back onto the road. But she’d overcorrected and now they headed for the steep shoulder drop off. Nora swung the wheel back. The Jeep lurched to the right, the tires stuttering. In that instant, she knew they were going to flip.

  She twisted the wheel one way, then the next, without any conscious thought. Muscle memory or luck or possibly even her kachina guided her, though he didn’t show himself. In seconds or minutes or perhaps years, the Jeep settled into a straight line race down the road.

  With no curves in her immediate sight, Nora took a second to gather her bearings. The high rev engine shrieked. The valley stretched before them with one long slope to the visitor’s center and a gradual flattening of the road as it swept toward the highway. They still careened down the hill, going way too fast for safety. If they passed the fee kiosk at this speed, they could hit a pedestrian or crash into another vehicle.

  Nora considered ramming the Jeep into first or second gear, but if she disengaged the clutch now she might not be able to force it into another gear and they’d be free-wheeling.

  A line of cars inched through the fee station on the left. A Cruise America RV with a cheery vacationing family painted on the rear loomed in front of them, making its way through the exit.

  “We’re going to hit them!” Abigail shreiked. She braced her arms on the dash.

  The Jeep lost some momentum as the road leveled, but they still barreled out of control. The back end of the RV grew in the windshield.

  Nora laid on the horn.

  The brake lights of the RV lit up. No! She needed them to speed up, not stop! Nora held her breath and gripped the wheel. They would collide with the RV at the kiosk. The pavement widened to accommodate the traffic at the fee station.

  Please stay inside the RV, she prayed. If someone stepped out from the either the RV or the kiosk, she’d plow into them.

  Amid Abigail’s screams and the shrieking engine, Nora yanked the wheel. They shot to the right side of the RV, wheels balancing on the edge of the pavement.

  Whack. They guillotined the driver’s side mirror.

  Nora sucked in air. They’d made it! Only a long, flat road ahead, with plenty of time for the Jeep the slow to a stop.

  Then she saw it.

  A group of motorcycles pulled out in front of her, leaving the visitors’ center. Between the group of six or eight, they covered both lanes. They didn’t know Nora couldn’t slow down. She laid on her horn, but they didn’t have enough time to react. She jerked the wheel to the right and the Jeep flew off the road into the sand.

  It only took fifty feet or so for the Jeep to come to a complete halt. They banged across shrubs and rocks, their seat belts biting into them as they crossed the brain-rattling, rough terrain. Abbey slammed into the back of Nora’s seat and yelped.

  They finally stopped and Nora cut the engine.

  “My god! We could have been killed!” Abigail panted and clutched her chest. Nora tried to draw in a breath, but struggled. She couldn’t let go of the steering wh
eel.

  “I told you two years ago to get a new car. But no, you didn’t listen. You aren’t happy unless you’ve got the oldest car on the road.”

  Oxygen finally seeped into Nora’s lungs. She hoped her heart didn’t split her chest.

  “You’re lucky this didn’t happen in the mountains. I’d have had to bear the loss of my only daughter.”

  Nora wanted to close her eyes, but they were stuck wide open in panic mode.

  “It is irresponsible of you to have held on to this antique this long. At least now you’ll have to get a new car.”

  Nora popped her seat belt loose, flung her door open, and jumped out. Abbey hopped out after her, no worse for the terror.

  Feet on solid ground, Nora leaned her hands against the hot hood and dropped her head. The shaking commenced and when her knees buckled, she sank to a squat.

  Twenty-Two

  Abigail’s ranting sounded like The Chipmunks on speed. When the shaking subsided and her bones felt solid, Nora stood up. She found her phone in her backpack and called Marlene.

  Marlene’s voice boomed through the phone. Maybe her annoyance wasn’t directed at Nora, but she sounded like she wanted to punch something. “You’re at the visitors’ center? The brakes? Are you okay?”

  “Just hurry. Abigail’s lecture is about to drill a hole in my brain.”

  “Wait.” Marlene spoke to someone. After a minute she came back on the line. “Bill Hardy is here. He said he’d come along with me.”

  “Bill Hardy?”

  Marlene spoke to the phantom Bill. “I’ll lock up and meet you at the garage.” The bell above the door tinkled and Marlene spoke into the phone. “Bill owns the repair shop down the street from me.”

  That must be the shop Darrell warned her against. “The Conoco? How do you know Bill?”

  “He’s a friend.” Marlene sounded distracted, probably closing up the Read Rock.

  “And you think he’s a good mechanic? Fair?”

  “What are you talking about? I just told you he’s a friend. So yeah, he’s fair. Would you like to call the Better Business Bureau?” The bell dinged again and a door bang closed.