Light caught her eye, and she moved back to the corner and peered around it to see a set of headlights coming down the driveway. It wasn’t a car—the lights were too high. It must be a truck or another van. She heard a door slam from somewhere in front of the house a minute later. She glanced toward Rex’s hiding place. He was probably completely freaking out over this additional member of the “party no one wanted to go to.”
The front door opened, and she heard moving feet, then voices, the shutting of the front door, and more feet walking around the lit portion of the trailer. This new arrival must be the third man—the man the Cowboy and Horace had been waiting to arrive to talk to her in the desert. They must have been waiting for him as well.
She edged back toward the window by the porch steps but froze when hinges creaked above her and the back door swished open. She dove toward the space below the steps where the heavy shadows were her best cover and moved backward until she realized she was no longer under the stairs, but under the porch. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, envisioning all kinds of horrible bugs and rodents surrounding her. For the second time tonight she was in a totally creepy place she never imagined she’d go to on purpose.
“Describe it to me,” a man’s voice said—Horace, she thought. No one had come out with him. Was he on the phone?
Sadie looked up through the small spaces between the two-by-fours of the porch, but she could only see his form pacing above her.
“That’s it,” he said, sounding relieved. “Your wife will be very glad to hear that you found it. Here’s what we’re going to do: Get on I-25 and head south. I’ll call you in ten minutes with more instructions. . . . I said I’ll call you. And don’t call the cops—we’ve got an in at the department and we’ll know if you try to involve them. Your wife’s life is on the line here. . . . Yeah, you can talk to her.”
The footsteps above her turned, and Horace’s voice moved back inside the trailer. “He wants to talk to you. You have ten seconds to convince him you’re still alive, but he’d better—” The door slammed shut, and Sadie let out the breath she’d been holding. Caro was here.
Sadie crawled out of her hiding spot and went around the corner of the house to the spot where she knew Rex would be able to see her light. She turned it on and off one time, then waited several seconds before she saw the faint red glow of brake lights confirming he’d received the message. Horace had said he had an in at the police department, was that true? Could it be Marcus? Had Sadie been feeding him information all this time? She didn’t think so, and the heavy thoughts were simply more fuel for what she had to do right now—get Caro out of there.
Moving as carefully as she could, she returned to the back porch, taking a deep breath for strength as she ducked back under it. After Sadie’s sophomore year of college, she’d taken a teaching job in a small town in Southern Utah. The school district had let her and the other female teacher stay in a single-wide trailer not much different than this one. Because of that one summer, Sadie knew that trailers and mobile homes came with a trapdoor of sorts toward the center of the structure, usually accessed through a closet inside the house. The door led to the crawl space that accommodated the plumbing and—for the very bravest of homeowners—extra storage. Sadie’s roommate had once bet her an entire package of Fig Newtons that she wouldn’t go into that crawl space. Sadie had gladly lost that bet.
The crawl space of this trailer was perhaps three and a half feet high with a metal vent on each wall of the trailer’s cement foundation. Sadie took a breath and scooted toward the vent underneath the porch. It was attached to the cement with hinges rather than screws, and they squeaked loudly when she lifted up the vent, even though she went slow. The voices above her didn’t stop, however, and she was able to carefully hold the vent open while maneuvering her body through the hole.
The footsteps and voices were louder once she was underneath the trailer itself, increasing her anxiety as she shined the light around the horrible place. In addition to the concrete foundation, cinder-block supports made it look almost like a small city. Unfortunately the small city was tangled in spider webs, and as she moved her flashlight beam, something on the far side scurried away from the light.
Her every instinct told her to run, but instead she got onto her hands and knees—the tire iron in one hand and the flashlight in the other—as she made another, slower, scan of the crawl space. Her flashlight beam struck something bright green toward the center, and it took her a moment to realize it was a large plastic bin of some kind. Apparently these owners were the brave type willing to utilize the crawl space for storage.
She moved closer, having to hold the flashlight in her mouth to keep her balance as she crawled along the hard-packed dirt. Something squirmed beneath her hand when she put it down, and she squeaked but managed to keep from screaming outright. This might very well be her worst nightmare.
For Caro, for Caro, for Caro.
She attempted to block out everything but the green bin in front of her; it made a good destination goal within the maze. When she reached it, she realized that the trapdoor was directly above the bin. How fortuitous. Maybe the owners accessed whatever was in the bin through the trapdoor, though due to its size, the bin would have had to be brought in through the foundation vents; the same way she’d entered.
She tried to push the bin out of the way so she could access the door. It was heavy, and Sadie had to lie on her back and push against it with her feet. It scraped against the dirt, and Sadie froze, but the footsteps above and to the left of where she seemed to be didn’t stop. The voices seemed to be rising too.
She pushed harder, though slowly, until the bin was out of the way. Carefully she pulled herself into a squat, put the tire iron on the ground and the flashlight in her mouth, and then reached her hands over her head, pressing them against the square piece of plywood. There was no hinge that she could see or feel, which she assumed meant the board was just a plug-type door that would remove completely from the hole. There would likely be carpet above it.
She held her breath and listened carefully to make sure she couldn’t hear anything directly above her, then she pushed the board up. It lifted easily, and when she’d cleared an inch or two, she moved it to the side. Something was in the way of moving it perfectly, so she had to raise up on her knees a little more to get a visual. She took the flashlight out of her mouth, turned it off, and put it in the front pocket of her pants. She managed to fit one hand through the gap she’d created, and used it to pull back the carpet and a few shoes that were keeping her from being able to open the trapdoor completely.
Once she’d moved the trapdoor out of the way, she stood up; the floor of the trailer hit her hip-high. Whereas the crawl space had been cold and stale, the inside of the trailer was stuffy and musty smelling, like it had been closed up for too long.
She’d come up through a bedroom closet. The room was dark and messy, and the door that led to the rest of the house was shut, allowing just a crack of light to seep in around the edges. She put the tire iron beside the opening before lifting herself up to sit on the floor. Sweat covered her scalp, but she kept a very clear picture of Caro in her mind and forced herself to continue.
She rose to her feet and picked up the tire iron before moving toward the bedroom door. It wasn’t until she was next to the door that she tuned into the discussion taking place on the other side. She realized the volume of the voices had increased—and not simply because she was closer. The men were arguing.
“ . . . is getting out of hand,” a voice said. Horace?
“Getting?” said another voice. This one had an accent, but there was something familiar about it too. “This has been out of hand for a very long time. Everything is crazy.”
Sadie blinked in surprise. It was Benny. Benny from the ranch. The foreman. Edward Standage’s right-hand man. The man who bailed out Shel.
He burst out in Spanish, and the words rolled off his tongue much smoother than
the English had. Horace quickly joined in.
The Cowboy’s throaty voice interrupted them both. “You think I don’t know what you’re saying just ’cause you jabber away in Mexican?”
Another voice joined in, a woman’s voice. Caro. “Where’s Sadie?” she asked. “You said you’d take me to her.”
Sadie was touched that Caro was so worried about her.
“Who is this Sadie?” Benny asked.
“Sarah,” Horace said. “The woman we . . . took out to the desert earlier tonight. She has a couple of different names.”
“Why are you doing this, Benny?” Caro said, a catch in her voice. “Ethan trusts you.”
Benny didn’t say anything, and the Cowboy spoke up. “What were you talking to Ethan Standage about?”
It was like someone was replaying a tape made of Sadie’s capture.
Caro was silent, which Sadie was glad about until she heard a slap and Caro’s soft gasp.
Sadie’s hands balled into fists at her side, gripping the tire iron tightly. You can’t take on three men with a tire iron, she told herself, but standing still was the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life.
“I ain’t got time for games, lady. Why were you talkin’ to Standage?”
“I—I wanted to ask him about the ranch.”
“What about the ranch?” Benny asked.
“I’d been doing some research, and I found out that the ranch wasn’t doing very well and that was why Ethan was taking a break from his art to help run it.”
“Too late,” Benny added. “He should have helped long ago. Why did you want to talk to Ethan about that?”
“Because it didn’t make sense,” Caro said. “He’s making millions on his art. Why not use that to help the ranch? Why give up what he loved, ya know? I thought I could ask him about it, and it would help me understand what Sadie was working on.”
“Blah blah blah and kumbaya,” the Cowboy cut in. “Did Ethan tell you about the bodies found in the desert?”
“What?” Caro asked, sounding shocked. “What did he have to do with that?”
“She doesn’t know anything,” Horace said, sounding frustrated. “I can’t believe you’ve taken this so far.”
“I only done what you hired me to do.”
“Hardly!” Horace said. “All my father wanted you to do was turn Ethan’s attention back to the ranch and you’ve turned this into a bloodbath. We should never have asked for your help. It’s been a disaster.”
Benny said something in Spanish, and since Sadie couldn’t follow the conversation she pondered on what she’d learned. Horace was Benny’s son. And Benny had hired the Cowboy to turn Ethan’s focus to the ranch. But how, exactly? By ruining his art career through releasing the pipe publicly? Could a simple plan like that have turned into this? Horace had called it a bloodbath, and it seemed to be an apt description. Two assistants, Margo, Langley, and, as far as the men on the other side of the door knew, Sadie, too—all dead because Benny wanted Ethan to pay more attention to the ranching part of his life?
“Yer about to get yer pipe back,” the Cowboy said, sounding bored. “Stop yer whining.”
“We wouldn’t have needed to get it back if you hadn’t lost it,” Horace said.
“I didn’t lose it!” the Cowboy yelled. “Yer the one who said this Langley character would be a good contact. He’s the one who lost it.”
“Stop, stop,” Benny said in his accented tones. “You forget that I talked to Ethan many times, Horace. I talked with Edward, too, but instead of Ethan increasing his role at the ranch, they talked of selling out, of leaving ranching all together. And then where would we be? It wasn’t supposed to go like this, but we have to finish what’s been started.”
“Finish it how, Papa?” Horace said, frustrated. “How can you justify what’s happened? Ethan’s afraid, and he’s turning back to the ranch like we wanted. There is no reason for anyone else to be hurt.”
“Where’s Sadie?” Caro cut in, fear tingeing her voice. Likely she, like Sadie, was beginning to understand how serious all of this was. How deadly it had been thus far. “When can I see her?”
“Sadie or Sarah or whatever the fool her name is, is dead.”
The Cowboy’s words were so final, so cutting, and so familiar. Sadie tightened her jaw, reliving the emotions she’d felt when the Cowboy had said the same words about Margo.
“What?” Caro cried out in horror.
Sadie put a hand to her own mouth and forced herself to take a full breath. I’m not dead, she said in her mind since she couldn’t say it out loud. I’m right here, and I’m going to get you out of this mess that I got you into in the first place.
“What are you talking about?” Caro demanded. “You said you were taking me to her!”
“You really think we’d have taken you if we could have gotten the information from her? She fell off a cliff tonight, tryin’ to make a run for it. You, however, became a delightful plan B.”
“She’s not dead,” Caro said between sobs. “You’re lying!”
“Horace saw it with his own eyes. Didn’t you, Horace?”
Sadie strained toward the silence. Everyone waited for Horace to answer. “I did,” he finally said. “She was trying to get away, and she fell. I . . . I’m sorry.”
The Cowboy laughed. “Yeah, he’s real sorry.” The laugh turned into a cough. “Why’s it so blasted hot in here?” Footsteps shook the trailer.
“Don’t open the door,” Benny said. “We need to be private.”
“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” the Cowboy said. “Who’s gonna see us? Ain’t you supposed to be callin’ that guy back, Horace? It’s been ten minutes already.”
“Yeah, I’m calling,” Horace said. There was silence, and then Horace spoke again. “Take exit 271 and head east. There’s a closed down auto body shop about a mile or so off the freeway. Park around back. We’ll be there in ten minutes.” There was another pause, and though Sadie strained for more information, all was silent until Horace spoke again in a different tone than the one he’d used on the phone. “I’m taking her with me.”
“No way,” the Cowboy said.
“The man wants his wife back, and I think we can trust them not to say anything—we know who they are and where they live.”
“They know who we are too,” said Benny. “We have no choice, mi hijo.”
Marcus had said Benny was a fabulous employee, loyal and protective of the Standages. Too loyal, perhaps. He was willing to do unthinkable things to keep the ranch going, perhaps preserving his job in the process. If Ethan had had any idea what Benny was willing to put into motion, Sadie had no doubt he’d have focused on the ranch long before now. It was hard to imagine that Benny didn’t know what he was getting into when he hired the Cowboy; the man was a definite psychopath getting a kick out of the power he’d been given permission to wield.
“We won’t say a thing,” Caro said, her voice shaking. “I swear. We have children. Please, just take the pipe and let us go. We won’t talk to anyone.”
“It ain’t up to you, darlin’,” the Cowboy said. “It never was.”
Caro started crying again.
“I’m not burying any more bodies,” Horace said. “I told you that, Papa, I’m done with this. Her husband did what we wanted, and he didn’t call the police. There’s been nothing on the scanner. We can trust him. We don’t need to kill anyone else.”
Benny burst out in Spanish again, his words angry, harsh, and dominating. Horace didn’t say another word and just took the lashing being dished out to him. Could Horace have been the one who buried the bodies of the assistants, and then given the tip to Ethan? He certainly had more regret than either of the other two.
Caro broke in with some Spanish of her own, and though Sadie didn’t know what the words meant, the tone was pleading, begging. A slow trickle of sweat started down Sadie’s back, and she shifted her shoulders while wiping at her damp forehead. It was stifling in here, but she felt
bad complaining when Caro was hurt and scared for her life. If Horace left, that would leave two men she had to distract away from Caro.
“You ain’t takin’ her with you,” the Cowboy said, cutting off Caro’s pleas. “Simple as that. Get the artifact, come back here, and then we’ll discuss what to do with her.”
“Her husband will freak,” Horace said, sounding genuinely scared. “He won’t let me leave without returning his wife. He’ll follow me back.”
“Well, if he’s stupid enough to do that, then you’ll just have to take care of it. Won’t be your fault at that point. Self-defense and all that.”
“Please,” Caro begged. “Please, you promised me you’d make it a trade. He’ll trade the artifact for me. We won’t—”
The sound of a hand hitting flesh and a startled scream from Caro made Sadie wince on the other side of the door. She put a hand over her mouth to keep herself quiet. A moment later, Caro was crying harder than ever.
Sadie put her palm on the door, holding back her own emotion as she felt Caro unleashing hers. Sadie had to get her out of here. She didn’t move, but scanned the bedroom, glad her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. She thought she saw a cigarette lighter on the dresser. If she went back outside and started a fire, the men might leave Caro alone to try to put it out. But they might also suspect it was a distraction, and not leave Caro at all.
“Gag her,” the Cowboy said, pulling Sadie’s attention back to what was happening on the other side of the door. “Then get out of here and bring back that pipe.”
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” Horace said. “Papa, please, this is too much. Killing women? Forcing Ethan’s focus isn’t worth all of this; it never was.”
“We see things through,” Benny said. “But it will end here, tonight. I promise.”
“Tell me we’ll send her back to her husband, Papa. Promise me.”
“Maybe Benny should go to the meeting,” the Cowboy said. “Horace can stay here and watch me hit her around some more. You choose.”
Tres Leches Cupcakes Page 27