by Jackie Anton
He took precious moments to walk around the vehicle as far as possible, and wiped off the front license plate that declared the Cadillac was from Ohio. Curiosity took hold, “Are you lost?”
“What makes you think I am lost, cowboy?”
Her voice was an octave above a whisper, shaky, and thin, but she definitely had a Yankee accent. He tried again, “My name is Cutter. What’s your name?” She looked at him as if he were speaking a foreign language.
“I lost it.”
“You lost your name?” She wasn’t making any sense.
“Of course not. I lost my shoes, and my phone, not to mention a mangy cow killed my car, but I haven’t lost my name.”
She spoke to him as if he were a little slow on the uptake. Okay, I will give it one more try.
“My name is Alexandra,” she volunteered, before he could ask again. It was obvious she didn’t trust him. It could be she had caught me scrutinizing her physical attributes. Cutter tried to be patient with her, but the nearby stream was quickly becoming a raging torrent, and he couldn’t let her stay where she was.
“Alexandra, we need to move away from here, or we are both going to drown.”
She just shook her head looking at his big black stallion with huge terrified blue eyes when he suggested that she mount his horse to ride out of there with him. He took the decision out of her hands. The rising water was lapping at the right side of the Cadillac, and they were out of time. Cutter plucked her out of the mud one more time and carried her over to deposit her on his saddle. She had the presence of mind to straddle it, and he quickly mounted behind her, spurring Rowdy to higher ground. Her silk blouse clung to her small frame, and she shivered uncontrollably. Opening his duster, he pulled her close to him and closed the front over her. She objected at first, but then relented out of concern for Rowdy when Cutter scolded her, “Quit wiggling. You’re making it harder for my horse to pick his way through this muck.” She settled down immediately. He’d expected her to be cold, when he pulled her against him, and had been concerned about hyperthermia. Of even more concern was the fact that she was burning up and becoming lethargic. It would probably be a good idea to get her to focus by talking to him.
“Alexandra? I’ll bet that they call you Alex.” Her voice was fading and becoming weaker, but she responded.
“Wrong. My friends call me Lexie. However, you can call me Alexandra.”
He suppressed the urge to laugh. He had a hunch that under normal circumstances, she was a handful. “What were you doing out here Alexandra?”
“Playing in the mud with your cows. They were your cows, weren’t they?”
“Yep, they’re mine. You like cows, Alexandra?”
“I like them just fine, served up as a medium rare porterhouse.”
Her response surprised Cutter, given the effort that she had put forth to save the calf, and he told her so. “You must really like steak, to jump in the mud with a potential dinner.”
“Well…it’s just a baby. You really ought to make hamburger out of that cow, once the baby is weaned.”
“You don’t think she would make good steaks?”
“She doesn’t deserve to be steaks. She is a lousy mother, parking her baby in the middle of a road. It is like a human telling their kids to go play in traffic!”
He was not going to laugh at her or set her straight about cattle tonight, but it was a strain to keep the laughter from becoming audible. Thankfully, the house was in sight, and Jim had already alerted Maria, who was ready to take over the care of their unexpected guest. Alexandra was barely lucid, but he knew Maria would be able to handle the situation. He left her in his longtime cook and housekeeper’s care. “Maria, this is Alexandra.” Then he was back out the door to take care of his exhausted horse.
Maria was amazed that the small girl hadn’t slid through Cutter’s hold, like a slippery little fish, as he deposited her in the mudroom off the kitchen. Maria automatically guided her shivering charge to the adjacent room that housed a small tub and shower stall. She didn’t like the way Alexandra looked: she could not seem to communicate, and could barely stand on her own. A shower was out of the question, so Maria opted to use the tub.
Once the mud was washed off in the warm bath, their houseguest stopped shaking like a leaf in an early winter Norther. It was obvious to Maria as she assisted the slightly built blond from the tub that none of her own clothes would work for Alexandra. She estimated they were approximately the same height of five foot and three or four inches, but that was it. Clothes intended for Maria’s ample bosom and rounded physique would wrap around this slim girl twice, or fall off completely. Only her tall wool socks fit, but her charge would most likely expire from shock if she got a glimpse of herself, considering the expensive, fashionable clothes that she had been wearing when she arrived. Maria didn’t think the young woman’s clothing was salvageable. The best she was able to do was fetch one of Cutter’s flannel shirts. At least the blue plaid covered her to her knees, and Maria was able to roll up the long sleeves on the girls limp arms. Alexandra was barely conscious. Maria set the tea to brew, and then was able to coax Cutter’s foundling to accept an oral thermometer. Cutter was always carting home strays or injured animals when they were children, but this was no abandoned puppy. He had really outdone himself this time. Maria retrieved the thermometer as she placed the cup of tea in front of Alexandra, who was slumping in her chair and listing a bit. Maria kept a close eye on the young woman while she read the results. One hundred and four!
While her charge sipped her tea, she punched in the number for Doctor Joe. After summoning the doctor, she contacted her husband Jim. His cell only rang twice.
“I need you, Jim. This girl is really sick. She is running an extremely high temperature. You or Cutter will have to carry her to the other end of the house and put her to bed until doctor Joe gets here.”
Maria had a premonition that this rescue was going to backfire on all of them.
2
What was keeping Lexie? She should have arrived over an hour ago. Unable to reach her, Melinda was starting to worry. Her repeated efforts to call her friend’s phone consistently rolled over to voice mail. A chill accompanied by a sense of foreboding began to penetrate her despite the cozy warmth of the blazing log fireplace. She knew that Lexie hadn’t fully recovered from the miserable bout of flu that had circulated around campus the end of March. It irritated her that her parents had sent Lexie along as a moderating influence. Money talks, and her parents had only footed the bill for the trip as long as Lexie accompanied her. Melinda began to resent Lexie because of her parents’ interference. She tried to quell her ire with her friend by counting her blessings that her father hadn’t insisted on sending his bodyguard along, too. The call to invite Lexie for dinner with her and David hadn’t gone well.
“Melinda, I really don’t feel like traveling to God knows where just to have dinner.”
“You have to eat, so why not have dinner with us?”
“I think David had a more intimate dinner for two planned.”
“Don’t be silly. He wants you to join us.”
“I doubt that. I think I will hit the Outback Steak place, then call it an early night.”
“The least you could do, Lexie, is give him a chance. Have dinner with us, then you can report back that he isn’t some kind of an ogre.” Okay, that came out really snippy.
“So, give me the damn directions.”
Lexie had sounded really annoyed and put-upon about the dinner coercion tactic. Her friend had a sixth sense about people that was extremely annoying. She’d disliked David from the beginning. Melinda had just shrugged of her friend’s concerns. After all, it was just a feeling. Lexie didn’t have a man in her own life, and her objection to David was probably just jealousy. Curious she inquired, “Haven’t you ever been wrong about a negative first impression, Lexie?”
“Rarely.” Was her friend’s cryptic reply.
The last she had spoken wi
th Lexie, she had been lost at a crossroad caught in the beginning of an epic rainstorm about a mile from the ranch house, and she sounded really peeved. Melinda wished she could be as relaxed and confident as David that Lexie had just gone back to the hotel that was their short-term home. But she wasn’t back at the hotel suite yet, and she was not answering her phone. Melinda smiled at David, accepting the offered glass of red wine and hoped it would take the edge off the guilt trip that was threatening to overwhelm her.
Melinda didn’t have a clue what time it was when she woke, but the unremitting sun was burning through her still-closed eyelids like surgeon’s laser scalpel. She couldn’t decide what hurt the most, her eyes or the ceaseless pounding in her head. As she gingerly opened her eyes, it became apparent as the room stopped spinning that she had never made it back to the hotel. Strange, she didn’t recall drinking much, but events of the prior evening after dinner escaped her. A panicked thought galvanized her. Oh my God! Lexie!
Her stomach pitched, joining the rest of her rebelling body as she put her feet on the floor and attempted to rise. She located her Blackberry and tried to reach Lexie, but the message declared she was out of the area. No answer at their hotel room number either. She fought rising nausea while she waited for the irritated manager to check on their room. An optimistic thought took hold in her slowly clearing mind — Maybe Lexie was asleep and had her phone turned off?— as she waited for the manager to report his findings.
“No, Señorita. The room is empty.”
“Are you sure?”
“Si, the beds have not been used since the maids cleaned the room this morning.”
Now what to do? David was conspicuously absent. The thought of a shower beckoned to her. The warm spray relieved some of the aches that plagued her body. She felt foul. It was obvious that she and David had engaged in some rowdy sex, but she couldn’t remember any of it! Melinda, as was her habit, took inventory of her reflection as she wiped the steamy mirror over the bathroom washbasin. She towel dried her dark brown, nearly black locks, and assessed her new spiral perm. Her face was more round than heart shaped like Lexie’s flawless face. She scanned her complexion with her thick lashed brown eyes, and was relieved that no annoying acne blemishes had shown up. She cupped her tender breasts, weighing and assessing her bosom, and taking pride in her ability to fill a D braw cup. Her absent friend was only able to fill-out a B. Melinda’s estimate of her hour glass figure reassured her that David’s interest was in her as a beautiful woman, and not her parents wealth.
A rumbling in the pit of her stomach hollered, “Feed me!” While scrounging around the kitchen for sustenance, she found a note on the fridge. Melinda, Gone to check on storm damage. Will check near the fork for your SUV. Love, D.D.
Finishing up her toast, orange slices, and a mug of stale coffee that she’d warmed in a battered microwave, she decided to make one more attempt to connect with her friend. Still no response, but she left one more message. After locating the proper law enforcement for the outlying area north of Lubbock, Melinda punched in the number. The next voice she heard was the heavily accented drawl of the sheriff’s dispatcher. Tears ran freely as she explained about her missing friend. Time passed slowly; it seemed like hours passed while she waited for the sheriff to arrive. Finally, she heard a knock on the door.
“About time you got here!” She let her frustration out on the hapless deputy when she yanked open the front door. He’d made the trip out in slightly over an hour, traversing still mucky roads. To her impatient mind, she’d been pacing David’s house for an eternity waiting for the deputy’s arrival.
Melinda fought for control, placing her shaking hands in her lap. After relating the events of the evening before, she retrieved another tissue from her handbag to stem the overflowing tears. She listened closely to his questions as he read the notes he’d been scribbling in the small pad he carried in his shirt pocket. She noticed when he entered the house and removed his western hat that he had dark blond hair almost the color of Lexie’s, but cut in a close, military style. Deputy Boyd was, she estimated, in his early thirties, slightly over six feet tall, and very well built. Unlike David who had the slender build of a runner, the deputy was heavily muscled with broad shoulders. He sure looked good in his uniform, but his hazel eyes were unnervingly penetrating as he questioned her.
“When did you last hear from your friend?”
“Lexie called me about six thirty yesterday to ask for additional directions.”
“And did you give them to her?”
“Not exactly. I’m not familiar with the area, or very good at giving directions. David wrote down the directions, at our hotel suite yesterday, that we left for her before coming out here. When she called he gave me directions to adjust her route. David said she was only about a mile from his place.”
“Why didn’t he just talk to her and give her the new information to adjust her route?”
“Lexie doesn’t really like David, and he knows it. He tried to talk me out of extending an invitation for her to join us.
“I’ll look into this, and let you know if your friend or your vehicle turn up.”
“Deputy Boyd, could you drop me off at the hotel in Lubbock? I’m kind of stranded here, and maybe Lexie has returned to our suite by now.”
“Where is Decker?”
She bristled at his tone; it was obvious he didn’t like David. “He is out looking for Lexie,” she lied, and immediately realized the lawman knew her response was a fabrication.
Boyd agreed to escort Melinda back to the hotel. There was always the possibility her friend had returned, or had left a message. He didn’t tell the distraught brunette with the soft doe-like eyes that chances were, her vehicle and her friend had been swept away in the floodwaters.
He left her in the hotel room after making a systematic search of the suite. The girls were staying in style. He had noted as he surveyed the off white walls of their temporary home with its tan Berber style carpet, and green printed window drapes that both double beds were neatly made, and there was not a wrinkle in the tan spreads. The sitting room, where they had first entered the suite was decorated with two green upholstered chairs that coordinated with the drapes, and flanked a square table with a bras reading lamp that craned its dual neck for the occupant of either chair. The room also held a forty-inch flat screen TV. Everything was immaculate. Melinda’s laptop and the landline were the only items that occupied the faux oak desk next to the entry. Miss Parker’s laptop had been sitting on top of the dresser in their shared bedroom. The staff had cleaned the girl’s bathroom, including the tan and white floor tile. The small kitchenette floor matched the tile in the bath, and it was easy to tell that both had just been scrubbed early that morning. Every table, dresser, and cabinet of oak shined like it was freshly polished. The linens and toiletries were fresh and untouched. It was obvious to both of them that her friend had not been here today. Boyd left instructions for Melinda to stay put so that he could contact her when, and if he found out something.
Melinda fought the urge to squirm under his intense gaze when she made the mistake of mentioning that she no longer had transportation, so it was unlikely she was going anywhere.
“You managed to hitch a ride with Decker yesterday, instead of waiting for your roommate to return with your vehicle. Again, just stay put until you hear from me.”
“Just who did that man think he was ordering around?” she grumbled to the empty suite while placing her phone on the charging pad. No one ever talks to me like that and gets away with it! She ordered room service before she checked her e-mail. Messages popped up from college friends, home, and she had a half-dozen Facebook friend requests, but not a thing from Lexie. Melinda decided to put off notifying her parents or Lexie’s mother until the judgmental deputy found her, one way or the other.
3
Patrick Boyd scanned through the department database looking for reports filed since the flooding the day before. He checked with the Rang
ers, fire rescue, Lubbock police, and the National Guard command assigned to the cleanup and rescue effort. Things were moving frustratingly slowly with the sheriff’s office operating on a generator, since power and landlines were still out. He was left with radio units that didn’t connect with other agencies, and cell towers that were overwhelmed. He had placed an APB on the radio before he left earlier on another of what had become an endless series of calls for help.
Like first responders all over most of the Panhandle and West Texas, Pat was running on adrenaline and pure nerve. It was another two and a half days before Melinda Potter’s Cadillac Escalade was located. It turned up more than ten miles from where her friend had last been reported. Photos were filed, along with written reports, showing the crushed remains of the SUV minus the driver’s side door. The Cadillac was wedged between two large trees that had been snagged by a submerged barbwire fence. Rescuers had to remove a large John Deere from atop the smaller vehicle before they could determine that there was no one to be rescued, or even a body to recover. So, where was Alexandra Parker?
Perhaps she’d gotten out before the SUV was swept away, but she should have turned up by now, unless she had drowned in the raging current and was now buried under mud and storm debris. Her handbag containing her ID was found tangled in the branches of the makeshift dam. Most of the items now carefully spread out before him were soaked and illegible, excluding the laminated Ohio driver’s license and a student ID from The Ohio State University. Pat reissued the APB to a wider police net now that the phone lines were back in use, although some of the outlying cell towers were still down. He used the information provided by the license. Melinda’s earlier description of her friend as blond, blue eyed, and about four inches shorter than she was pretty much matched what was on the other woman’s driver’s license. She had also stated that her friend did not possess as large a bosom as she had. Patrick Boyd swallowed, only to discover that his spit had dried up. As the deputy working on her friend’s disappearance, he had been avoiding lingering long over Melinda’s curvy form. He had pretended to take note of her physical qualities for the first time, and then had made his excuses. Patrick had needed to attend to other matters that had backlogged, but his hasty retreat had more to do with putting space between him and the enticing Miss Potter.