by Sylvia Nobel
For a minute, he said nothing and then replied, “Oh yes. Those two. Hmmmm. I’m sure I can find the files, but if you don’t mind my saying so, wouldn’t it be easier for you to get them from Sheriff Hollingsworth?”
“No. I mean…he’s been awfully busy lately and I really hate to bother him again. Apparently, his secretary misfiled the toxicology reports you issued.”
“Really? Well, I’ll see if my assistant can find them for you. Do you want to hold, or shall I call you back?”
I didn’t feel like playing another round of phone tag and I was bursting to get the information today. “If you don’t mind, I’ll hold.”
“Well…it might take some time.”
“Fine.” Behind me, I heard Jim shut off his computer. He grabbed up some papers and shouted good-bye to me on his way out the door. Good. As the minutes ticked past, my stomach churned and a nervous sweat dampened my forehead. Drumming my fingers against the edge of the desk, I thought about John Dexter again and wondered for the zillionth time what sensitive information could be in the missing reports.
“Miss O’Dell?” Dr. Crane’s rough voice jabbed into my thoughts. Hastily, I scooped up a pen. “I found the files. You know, of course, we were unable to identify the first girl.”
“Yes. Do you think there’s still a chance?”
He sighed. “At this point, it’s unlikely.”
“Why?”
“Other cases take priority, and unfortunately situations like this get shoved to the bottom of the barrel, if you know what I mean.” I could hear him shuffling papers in the background and his next words surprised me. “Hmmmmm. These toxicology reports are still red tagged.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I can’t give this information to you while the cases are pending. It’s confidential and to release it might hinder the ongoing investigations.”
“Confidential? But, I was told the reports had just been misfiled, not that they were unavailable to the public.”
“Well, according to my records, this information was ordered sealed until further notice.”
I let a note of pleading slip into my voice. “Oh, Dr. Crane, I’m certain that must be in error. Are you sure I can’t get a copy of those reports?”
Irritation tinged his voice. “No can do. I guess your paper could try and get a court order, but I think the simplest thing for me to do is call Roy and see if this information can be released.”
Jesus! The last thing I needed was to have Hollingsworth know I was going around him. “Dr. Crane, I’d rather you didn’t do that.”
“Why not?”
Why not, indeed? I couldn’t tell him what I suspected; that it appeared the sheriff was hiding something.
“Perhaps I was mistaken. I certainly wouldn’t want to do anything to hinder Roy’s investigation. I have more than enough information for my story, so for the time being, let’s just forget this, okay?”
“Well…I’d like to get it cleared up.”
“Not a problem. I’m on my way over to Roy’s office right now, so there’s absolutely no need for you to trouble yourself. But before you hang up, maybe you could tell me just one thing. The toxicology report would indicate if particular substances were found in the bodies such as chemical compounds or drugs?”
“Yes. We had a wet tissue sample on the Perkins case and we were fortunate enough to find ah…a small section of the Jane Doe that the coyotes had missed.”
His statement brought forth the horrifying spectacle of the poor girl’s body torn and shredded by the desert’s wild creatures. I swallowed hard. “Can you tell me what you found?”
“You know I can’t.”
It was agonizing to be so close and be stonewalled. “Just one more thing, Doctor.”
“Yes?”
“I know you can’t tell me the name of the substance, but don’t you think it’s suspicious that both girls had traces of the same drug?”
“Considering the type...” His words halted and when he spoke again, there was an icy edge to his voice. “This conversation is over.” Click.
“Ah-ha!” Barely able to contain my elation, I added the incriminating data to my notebook. Mentally, I crossed my fingers in the hope that Dr. Crane’s slip would assure me he’d not call Roy, since he could now be guilty of illegally divulging confidential police information to a reporter. At the same time, he’d have to be hoping that I’d keep my mouth shut.
So now what? I nervously paced the room. Maybe my theories about Roy and Claudia running a white slavery ring weren’t so crazy after all. Had the same drug been administered to subdue the girls until they’d been transported somewhere else? If true, what had happened to interrupt this process?
I needed to talk to Tugg as soon as possible and had gotten only a few feet from my desk when the phone rang again. I grabbed it. “This is Kendall O’Dell.”
There was a slight pause, then the silky voice of Claudia Phillips oozed over the line. “I’ve consulted with my employer and since we spoke a few weeks ago, I’ve had a change of heart.”
“Good. What did you decide?” When she spoke again her words were stilted. I had the impression she was speaking through clenched teeth and that each word uttered caused her intense pain. “If you’d like…I can arrange for you to…interview a couple of the girls here…tomorrow.”
“What time?”
“Eleven o’clock.”
“I’ll be there.” I hung up and clapped my hands in triumph. Things were finally going my way and I had Eric Heisler to thank for it. I owed him one now and I’d have to think of a suitable way to repay him on Friday night.
Anxious to talk to Tugg, I couldn’t repress my disappointment when I found his office empty. Concerned, I headed for the reception desk. Ginger pulled a gigantic wad of purple bubble gum from her mouth and responded to my question. “Mary called in for him. She said his ulcer was acting up again something awful.”
“I didn’t know he had an ulcer.”
In the know, as always, Ginger said, “Oh yeah. He’s got one of them septic ones…or is it peptic? Well any hoot, it’s one of them bleedin’ type ulcers, and I heard he pert near up and died one time some years ago when it went and ruptured on him.”
That news depressed me. Tugg was my only ally in this thing. What if something happened to him?
The phone rang and Ginger answered. A second later, a sunny smile lit her face. Excitedly, she cupped her hand over the mouthpiece, her eyebrows arched expressively. “It’s your lover boy, Eric.”
I made a face at her and hurried to my desk. Eric’s deep voice boomed, “Hey, beautiful.”
“Well, hello. This is a nice surprise.”
“Why are you surprised? I promised I’d call. You did get my message, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did. And by the way, I want to thank you for arranging my visit to the shelter. Claudia Phillips just called a few minutes ago. It was very kind of you to act so quickly.”
“It was no trouble at all. But, on to more important things. Do you have time in your busy schedule to see me on Friday?”
“I’m in your debt, so yes.”
He chuckled. “I hope that’s not the only reason. If you’re in the mood for some adventure I’ll pick you up at the airport around five and we’ll take my plane to Phoenix for dinner. It’s only a half-hour trip by air.”
“That sounds great to me.” It also sounded terribly romantic.
“Wonderful. Now listen, it usually takes an act of God to get reservations at this particular place, but I’ve managed it. So, please don’t cancel out on me.”
“I don’t have any other plans. What should I wear?”
His voice grew husky. “Wear something dressy. Sexy. Like that dynamite green number you wore the night we first met.”
He certainly knew the right things to say. “Okay, see you Friday.”
“I’ll be counting the hours.”
We said good-bye and cradling the phone, I let out a d
eep sigh, remembering his searing kiss. He really was very sweet. All at once I felt a prickling at the back of my neck; the kind of sensation one gets when someone is staring daggers at you. Turning, I saw Tally standing in the doorway with his jaw clenched, his dark eyes glowing with fury.
For a tense moment, neither of us spoke. Then, with accusation tinging his voice, he said, “You don’t listen very well, do you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You think I haven’t heard all about your cutesy evening with Heisler? You had no business seeing him.”
I stiffened. After witnessing his sensitive side, watching him resurrect his ‘macho, superior, ordering the poor dumb female about’ routine, really ticked me off. “Well excuse me. I didn’t realize I had to clear my social engagements with you.”
Tally slapped his hat against his thigh. “The guy’s a lizard in a suit. I told you, he can’t be trusted.”
“What are you? My keeper? Since when do I have to get permission from you before I go out with someone? For your information, I’ll see whomever I choose, and furthermore…”
Tally crossed to my desk with such swiftness, the rest of the sentence hung in my throat.
“Goddamn it to hell, Kendall!” His breathing was ragged. Rage and frustration flashed in his eyes. “I thought…I thought that we…never mind.”
My anger dimmed slightly at the anxious note in his voice, and I tried to keep my voice calm. “Tally, if you’ll just give me a minute and quit having a total cow, I’ll explain. Now, can we talk quietly about this?” He didn’t answer, so I continued. “Listen, I honestly meant to tell you Saturday but…it didn’t seem like the right time to bring it up.”
His eyes were hard pinpoints of black steel. “That was him on the phone just now, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. So?”
“You can’t see him on Friday night.”
I rose to my full height. We were almost eyeball to eyeball. “The last thing on earth I want to do is hurt your feelings, but Eric did me a big favor, so I owe him one. I’m going to see him on Friday whether you like it or not.”
“You can’t.”
I gave him an incredulous look. “What gives you the right to stand there and tell me what I can and can’t do?”
“For some strange reason I thought you were a person who kept your word.”
“I am.”
“Really? You already promised to see me on Friday.”
“I did not!”
“Yes, you did.”
“When?”
“Last Saturday.”
That stopped me cold. I blinked in confusion and closed my eyes momentarily. “What am I not understanding here?”
“So, it was that unimportant to you.”
I threw up my hands. “What? What on earth are you talking about?”
“The annual barbecue at the Starfire. You said you’d come.”
“That’s Saturday, isn’t it?”
“No. It’s Friday.”
I felt like two cents waiting on change. How could I have double booked myself? “Oh…Tally. I thought it was Saturday.” I flipped the pages of the calendar on my desk. “See. I have it right here.” It seemed a feeble excuse. “What time is the barbecue?”
“Seven o’clock.”
“Until when?”
“Midnight.” His voice was as cold as his eyes.
“Well, can’t I come by after dinner?”
“You’ll miss the start of the hayride at eight-thirty. I sort of had in mind that we’d, that you and I would…” Abruptly, he stopped speaking and stood there shaking his head with disgust.
“Look,” I said, attempting to lighten the mood. “I admit I screwed up. It happens. Can’t you give a little on this? I can’t imagine we’ll be much later than ten. How about I come then?”
“Don’t bother.”
The phone on Tally’s desk rang repeatedly but neither of us moved. We were still silently squared off like two stubborn tomcats when Ginger appeared in the doorway. “Well, for pity’s sake, will one of y’all pick up the danged phone?” She blinked in surprise as Tally abruptly broke the spell and strode toward his desk. He whipped up the phone, turning his back to me.
Ginger hurried over to me. “What’s going on?
I shook my head sadly and whispered, “It’s nothing. A slight disagreement.” Her searching gaze told me she didn’t believe that for a second, but, thankfully, she didn’t pursue it. Squeezing my hand she said softly, “I’ll talk to you later.”
After she left the room I wanted to go to him, apologize for my stupidity, tell him how sorry I was, but the obstinate set of his shoulders rebuffed any advance.
21
Tuesday morning I awoke late, immediately aware of an odd sensation. My skin was clammy and each breath was an effort. Why an asthma attack now?
A quick glance around the room showed nothing out of order. The strong morning sun slanted through the arcadia door, and outside, the birds were making their usual racket. The evaporative cooler on the roof hummed and rattled, but the air in the room didn’t feel as cool as it should. In fact, it lay heavy and close.
After a dose of medication, I got dressed, and called Ginger to tell her I wouldn’t be in until after my appointment at the shelter. I ate a leisurely breakfast, feeling no urge to hurry, since it was barely past nine. There should be plenty of time to stop by the sheriff’s office and check the log.
As I stepped out the front door I was startled by the unreal scene before me. So that’s why the air felt so oppressive. Directly north, enormous thunderheads curled over the distant mountains like foaming white waves. After weeks of empty, blue sky, their sudden appearance changed the landscape dramatically. It looked as though someone had come overnight and painted them on the horizon.
Rain couldn’t come any too soon for me. But, as I climbed into my car, I remembered that the rainy season did not usually begin until July, still three weeks away. Perhaps the “monsoon” would start early this year.
The car made a deep groaning sound when I turned the key. Uh-oh. After a few more tries, the engine finally caught. Relieved, I made a mental note to take it in for service.
I was so busy gawking at the phenomenon of clouds and was so accustomed to there never being much traffic on Lost Canyon, that I pulled out of Weeping Bird directly into the path of an oncoming car. I screamed and slammed on the brakes. My car fishtailed wildly and slid sideways off the road into the sandy shoulder. Finally stopped and gasping for breath, I watched in amazement as Dr. Price from Serenity House accelerated his Mercedes and flashed past, leaving me in a plume of choking dust. “You idiot!” I shouted at the retreating car.
When I tried to maneuver onto the road, the back tires whirled uselessly in the loose sand. After a half a dozen failed tries, I thumped the steering wheel as tears of frustration stung my eyes. “Oh, no. Not now!” Of all the days for this to happen. I had only an hour and a half until my appointment.
It would take only minutes to get back to the house. For a split second, I toyed with the idea of calling Tally. Could he pull me out with his truck? Then, just as quickly, I dismissed the thought. After yesterday’s confrontation, I wouldn’t have asked him for help if he’d been the last man on earth.
I scrambled out of the car, locked it, and soon discovered the futility of running on the rutted dirt road in heels. At this rate I’d break an ankle. I slowed my pace. The scalding sun beat down on the top of my now throbbing head, and a cluster of tiny gnats buzzed irritatingly around my nose and mouth.
My shoes were full of sharp little stones when I finally reached the house, sweat-drenched and perturbed. There were only two towing services in town, and I was told the wait would be at least forty-five minutes.
Still bummed about Dr. Price’s irresponsible departure from the accident scene, I looked up the number for Serenity House and punched the numbers on the phone.
“Hello,” said a so
othing feminine voice, “you have reached Serenity House. Staff is occupied at this time. Please leave your name and number and we will return your call as soon as possible.”
How weird. I’d never heard of a hospital with a recorded message. I hesitated for a second and then left my name and work number.
Estimating the arrival of my tow, I donned running shoes, and then heels in hand, walked back toward the car. The searing wind tumbled my hair and churned up impressive columns of yellowish dust. I had to dive inside my car to avoid one of the whirling dust devils that whooshed past.
Rescue finally arrived in the form of a dented white truck bearing the name, Bud’s Towing Service. Large black letters on the front of the hood announced: HELP’S A COMIN’.
I waited impatiently as a heavy-set man in a checkered shirt eased himself slowly out of the truck. Touching the bill of his smudged ball cap, he said, “How do, young lady. You need towin’?”
“Yes, and boy am I glad to see you.”
He grinned good naturedly. “Most people generally are.”
After we exchanged introductions, Bud Stovely remarked appreciatively that I had ‘right purty red hair,’ and asked me how I liked ‘reportin’ for the paper.’ It seemed everyone in town knew who I was, so we chatted for a few minutes in a friendly manner. Whistling slightly offkey, he clanked and rattled the chain while attaching the hook to my car. I asked him if he’d had any trouble finding me.
“Nope. Knew right where you were.” He shifted a wad of chewing tobacco with his tongue. “Before I bought out my brother’s towing business, I used to drive one of them linen trucks out here to the loony bin every week.”
“Really? What’s it like inside that place?”
He turned his head and expertly ejected a stream of brown spit, then dragged his shirt sleeve across his mouth. “I don’t know. They don’t let you inside. I’d pick up the dirty things, and leave the clean stuff right there at the guard station. Some of them wetbacks would come pick it up.”
I raised a brow at his derogatory remark, but he seemed not to notice. “Are most of the people employed there Hispanic?”