"Are you sure?" Francie asked.
"She's positive," Howard said, urging her toward the door. "Aren't you?"
"Yes." She glanced back at Francie, wishing she could convey her desperate plea—I need help!
The essence of a gentleman, Howard opened the Jeep door for her and handed her the seat belt, waiting until she buckled herself in. He got in the vehicle and started the engine, waving at Francie as they drove away.
"So poor old Richard shot himself," Howard said after they were in the Jeep. "Damn, but that's a shame. Did you know that his great-grandfather once owned the place?"
"No."
"Hell of a thing, wanting what you can't have."
"Like double water rights for a property?"
He looked at her briefly. "Yeah. Like that." Then he smiled. "A little car trouble should have left you stranded. And it would have been such a tragedy, you know. A young woman shot by a sniper while she was waiting for help to come."
"A lot of effort," she said, managing to keep her voice even. He made his plans for murdering her sound so ordinary. Like ordering takeout. "The thing is, why?"
"A business problem." He shook his head. "You drew entirely the wrong conclusions from the facts."
"Conclusions that are worth millions of dollars to you," she countered. Outside, she didn't see a soul. It was far too soon to expect Gray back. And based on what Francie and Hawk had told her last night, fewer than a dozen people lived on the pueblo. Who knew where they all might be?
"Yes, there is the money," Howard said.
"I have to know. Was Richard helping you?"
Howard laughed. "Good God, no."
"He wasn't responsible for the carbon-monoxide poisoning?"
"No. I wish I had thought of that sooner. It almost worked. Who would have guessed you'd find a champion in Richard's cousin?"
Awful visions filled her head since Howard had been aware that Gray was on his way to the ranch. What if…? "You didn't hurt Gray?" She couldn't say out loud what she most feared. What if Howard had killed him?
"Who's Gray?"
"Richard's cousin," she snapped.
"Oh, him." Howard directed his attention across the valley. "I'm afraid I lied about his wanting to see you. He's busy with Hawk." He clucked his tongue, and shook his head. "Horses. They're so unpredictable."
Relief made her eyes burn. Gray was busy with Hawk. Safe.
"And Richard?" She hated asking, hated thinking this man she had once considered a good friend was capable of murder. "You saw him yesterday?"
"I'm afraid so, yes." He twisted his mustache between his fingers. "If you hadn't so completely vanished, it would have been so much cleaner." He snapped his fingers. "Two business problems. Gone. Richard was merely greedy. But you. Disloyal after all that I've done for you. You should have known better, Audrey."
She swallowed. "He didn't commit suicide, did he?"
Howard pinned her with a glance. "That's a suspicion you'll never be able to tell anyone."
"You can't—"
"Simply kill you?" he questioned. "It should have looked as though Richard killed you, then was so stricken with remorse that he took his own life. You should have been in your car when it blew up." Howard shrugged. "You're right. After all the misfortunes of the last day or two, you're about to have another."
Audrey reached for the door handle. She didn't know how fast they were going, but anything had to be better than this. "Just in case you have decided to be uncooperative … again." A snub-nosed revolver appeared in his hand, pointed directly at her. "I don't want to have to shoot you, Audrey, but I will if you force me."
Audrey shook her head.
"This is a nice act of defiance," he murmured. "But you will go. Life always chooses life." He aimed the gun toward her head. "Are you so sure you want to die right now?"
Audrey's gaze focused on the small black hole at the end of the gun's muzzle as she pushed away a seething bubble of fear. She wanted to speak, but she couldn't make her mouth open. She wanted to move, but fear held her in the seat of the vehicle.
How could it have come to this? Howard had been a friend. A good friend. This kind of thing didn't happen to her. Her life was dull. Ordinary. And about to end.
He drove the remaining mile to the ranch, one hand on the wheel, one holding the gun aimed at her. When he came to a stop in front of the low wall surrounding the entry to the lodge, he got out of the truck and pulled her after him. Then he grabbed her by the arm and twisted it behind her.
"Let's go," he ordered, his voice harsh.
Audrey stumbled up the walkway and through the door into the main room of the lodge. She wondered where Gray was. Had he made it to the ranch? Had he called his friend? Dear God, somehow help had to be on the way.
Howard pushed her down the maze of hallways, then stopped in front of one of the doors—the linen closet, Audrey realized. He opened the door and shoved her inside. Immediately, she focused on the carved doors at the end of the closet. They were open. Beyond the doors, the black interior of the hidden room yawned—evil, beckoning.
* * *
Chapter 15
« ^ »
Audrey struggled to wrench free of Howard's grasp. With a last heave of force, she freed herself. Before she had taken a single step, he pushed her, and she fell forward. With no effort at all, he thrust her into the musty hidden room, the odor of dust thick around her.
"No. Please, Howard. Not in here."
Before she could stand, he closed the carved doors. She rushed forward and pushed against them, but the crossbar held the doors firm. She beat against the wood.
"Howard, not this. Please, don't do this."
"Begging, Audrey?" He clucked his tongue. "I am surprised."
Begging she had been, and she hated it. She stepped back from the door, angrily wiping the tears from her eyes. Beg a man who was intent on killing her? The absurdity brought a bitter smile to her lips. She might die, but damned if she was going to beg.
"It's a good place to escape from the smoke, don't you think?" he said. "Goodbye, Audrey."
Those simple words filled her mind with awful images as she realized he intended to set fire to the hacienda. Her resolve not to beg vanished. "Howard, wait!"
Howard walked out of the linen closet, turning off the light, and shut the door behind him. Its slam resounded through her like the gate to an inescapable prison. She cried out again, near panic surfacing.
The room was left in absolute darkness except for a sliver of light that shone underneath the door. Stronger than her fear of the moment were her phobias rooted in the distant past. Abruptly, she remembered searching the linen closet with Gray, thinking this hidden room would be a terrible place to be trapped. Little had she known.
She was a child no longer, but the fear was just as huge, just as powerful as it had been so many years ago. Pressing a fist against her mouth, she took a deep breath. Then another. Panic made her weak. Control gave her power. She took another breath, and with more resolve than she had suspected she possessed, she forced herself to think.
Thinking seemed impossible, and old, old memories surfaced.
Her mother had related the events, but until this moment, the memories had not been her own. Memories of being five, memories of running from a fire.
She had hidden, seeking an escape from the heat and the smoke. She had waited and waited, and a long time had passed before her daddy came for her. Caring for the burn left behind from a poker, he had hugged her and cried that she was safe.
Audrey touched the burn scars beneath the bracelets. Her daddy, who had died less than a year later, had come for her that day long, long ago. Today, no one would. Not Gray. Certainly not Howard.
Her gaze glued to the tiny sliver of light, Audrey pushed against the door. The crossbar held it fast. Leaning her head against the panels, she took a deep breath.
"Think," she whispered to herself. "Calm down, and just think. You can do this. He's so confident, he
didn't tie you up."
And she knew why. He'd said this was to be a tragic accident. So it wouldn't do to have any marks left on her that would cast any suspicion. She looked out to the linen closet and shook the barred doors again.
The way out was not through the linen closet.
Turning, she faced the black cavern of the room—ominous as her worst nightmares. The space was so dark she couldn't tell if the room was a few feet wide or much more. Howard wouldn't have stashed her somewhere with an escape route, but hope made her think maybe he hadn't checked. Remembering that Gray had told her the passages were used to connect rooms and spy on unsuspecting houseguests, she took a step forward. Maybe this was one of those passages. Extending her arms until she touched the wall, she took another step, half expecting the floor to become a bottomless pit. Or at the next step. Or the next.
Abruptly, the wall she followed with searching fingertips turned a corner. She glanced over her shoulder, knowing she had to keep each turn she made clear in her mind or she might never find her way out.
"Left," she whispered, noting the direction she turned. A few feet later the wall turned again, right this time. "Left, right," she said, repeating the first turn and adding the next one.
When the wall angled off in another direction, she repeated the turn she took, reciting it with the others. When the maze turned again, the tunnel seemed less dark, and ahead she saw the ornately carved silhouette of a door, daylight seeping into the hallway, if only for a few inches.
Sure she was on the verge of finding a way out, she moved forward, her attention fixed on the light beyond the silhouette. Reaching the carved panel, she touched the wood and peered into the room beyond. Though she had never been in the room, from the furnishings and personal items, she knew this must be Richard's quarters.
The rustle of papers made her cock her head to the side.
An instant later, Howard passed in front of the door less than a foot away from her; only the panel kept her safe from discovery. Audrey's breath caught, and she didn't let it out for fear of being heard. There was another flutter of papers, and she realized he was looking for something.
He stood so close she could smell his aftershave lotion and hoped no equally telltale signs gave her away.
Finally, he moved away from the door, and she slowly let her breath out, taking a silent step back away from the panel. The way she had come looked absolutely black, and the tunnel leading in the other direction wasn't any lighter. She hated leaving the source of light, but feared Howard's discovery more. So she pressed into the darkness, wishing she knew how to move as silently as Gray did.
Twice more the tunnel turned, then became so narrow Audrey could feel the walls on either side of her shoulders. Tempted to turn back, she stopped walking, her fingers lightly touching the cool walls. What if it was the way out? What if it was a dead end? Either way, she wouldn't know until she got to the end or until the tunnel narrowed so much she couldn't go farther.
Far ahead of her, she thought she saw light. Faint gray against the utter black of the tunnel. She moved toward it, and the light became more pronounced, a disk so small she couldn't judge how close or far away it might be.
The temperature and smell of the air changed, and she began to think the tunnel no longer wound its way through the interior of the hacienda. Gradually the light became larger and the smell of fresh air more pronounced. She increased her pace, hopeful she had found a way out of Howard's death trap.
Beneath her feet, the texture of the floor changed, and she looked down. In the dim gloom, she saw that the stone floor she had been walking on gave way to packed dirt. Items piled next to the wall caught her eye, and she paused. A couple of old pots, their designs faded, but distinctly pueblo. Another item she didn't recognize lay next to the pottery.
She almost passed the artifacts without stopping. Some awareness made her stop, however. She turned around and studied the items. Audrey knelt, her fingers tracing the pots. One of the pots seemed so much like the one that had held herbs and warm water the night of the Indian woman's labor that Audrey picked up the pot and sniffed at the opening. The only aroma was dust. Disappointed, she gently set the pot back down. She turned over the object next to the pots and discovered it was a cradle board.
Carefully, Audrey lifted it and held it in her arms. The leather lacings were stiff, the suede brittle. Moving toward the light, Audrey studied the cradle board, wondering how long it had been here.
Caught up in her examination, she ignored the faint tremor beneath her feet. Within seconds, the tremor became a more pronounced rumble. A moment later, a boom from an explosion echoed down the tunnel.
She ran toward the light. A couple of big junipers grew in front of the opening, their branches reaching into the tunnel. Held fast by the branches was a wrought-iron gate.
The acrid smell of smoke caught up with her, accompanied by roiling dust.
Audrey pulled on the gate. It didn't budge. She pushed. Still it didn't move.
Setting down the cradle board, she pulled harder, this time with both hands. On a screech of protesting hinges, the gate opened, and she slipped out, surrounded by the pungent aroma of the junipers. Her glance fell on the abandoned cradle board. Obeying an instinct she didn't question, she reached back inside and grabbed it.
Behind her, dust poured from the tunnel.
Audrey crouched beneath the junipers to get her bearings, none too anxious to leave her hiding place. To her surprise, she was a hundred feet away from the hacienda. A plume of dust hung above the roof, but there was no black smoke that would indicate a fire. Either the adobe building had not caught fire or the thick walls hid it. Audrey hoped the building was intact. Too much history had passed within its walls to so casually destroy it.
She glanced back into the tunnel. And thankfully, she had escaped. She wasn't going to become one more ghost haunting Puma's Lair.
Absently fingering the cradle board's laces, Audrey gazed out onto the landscape. She must have lost track of time, she decided, because the storm clouds that had been over the mountains when she rode to the ranch with Howard were now directly overhead. They looked as ominous as they had the first day she was here.
The billow of dust above the roof gradually settled, and she wondered if anyone else had heard the explosion.
Seeing something flutter to the ground, Audrey looked down. A couple of yellowed sheets of paper lay on the earth, apparently fallen out of the cradle board. Sitting down, Audrey picked them up, noting the paper was as fragile as the old leather on the cradle board.
Carefully, she unfolded the first sheet, covered in an ornate script and written in Spanish. Unable to read the words, she folded it and picked up the second sheet, which on first glance looked almost the same. Except this one was written in English.
Audrey read through the formal language, discovering she held in her hands a deed dated August 17, 1873, transferring the ownership of the ranch to the people of La Huerta. She lifted her face to the cleansing breeze preceding the storm. Excitement replaced her fear. Gently, she tucked the fragile papers back inside the cradle board, then hurried away from her hiding spot. The sooner she found someone from the pueblo, the better.
She had found proof that Mary's theory was right. Her great-grandmother had held the keys to the pueblo's independence and prosperity.
Audrey's excitement over the find competed with her worry that Howard would find her. She forced herself to keep walking away from the tunnel, though the urge to look back was overwhelming. The terrain surrounding the hacienda was deserted, and Audrey felt terribly alone, terribly exposed as she walked briskly across the valley. The storm clouds lowered, dark, ominous, their bellies beginning to show gray streamers of rain. However worried about Howard she might be, a more immediate concern was getting back to the pueblo before she got caught in a storm.
She hadn't gone much more than a half mile before she heard someone shout her name. Turning around, she saw Howard standing in his
Jeep, a high-powered rifle cradled in his arms.
* * *
Gray dismounted from a big sorrel while Hawk closed the wide corral gate after the last horse trotted through. Horses milled around, but because of the recent rains, didn't kick up much dust. Their scent permeated the air, a good earthy smell. Since coming to Puma's Lair, Gray most enjoyed assisting Hawk with his herd when he wanted a break from sculpting. For a while this morning, the work had given him something to focus on besides the pain he had caused Audrey.
He looped the reins of his mount over the top rail of the fence. This enclosure wasn't the usual one Hawk used, and though Gray had ridden past it numerous times, he had never understood until this morning the value of having a corral in the middle of the valley. They would have had their work cut out to keep the herd together another couple of miles to the enclosure closer to Hawk's house. About two miles away, to the southeast, the roof of the hacienda was barely visible, and to the northeast, he could see the top floor of the pueblo.
The two young men who had ridden with Hawk and Gray pulled up, dismounted and, like Gray, tied their mounts to the fence.
"Thanks for your help rounding up the herd," Hawk said to Gray. "It was touch and go there for a while. Don't think I could have gotten them settled down and back here without your help."
"No problem," Gray answered.
By the time he and José caught up with the herd, Hawk had them circled, and Gray knew his efforts toward calming the animals didn't warrant any thanks.
"What set them off?" he asked.
"Probably a cougar," Hawk replied. "I haven't seen any this far from the mesa in months, though. So, maybe it was lightning."
Gray glanced at the sky, which again showed the promise of rain. If there had been any lightning today, he hadn't noticed. He shook away the fleeting suspicion that chased through his mind—one in which Audrey's boss had something to do with the stampede. With the weather so unsettled, nearly anything could have set the horses off.
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