Deadly Sanctuary (Kendall O'Dell Series #1)

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Deadly Sanctuary (Kendall O'Dell Series #1) Page 26

by Sylvia Nobel


  “Did he leave the state? Do you think he’s still practicing medicine somewhere else?”

  “Possibly.”

  “But, where does Claudia come into all this?”

  His voice became animated. “During the trial, she was there in the courtroom almost every day and she testified for the defense in his behalf. She had kind of light brown hair then. Short and fluffy.”

  “I’m not following. What’s the connection?”

  “She’s Charles Sheffield’s sister.”

  “His sister?”

  “Yep.”

  I had a flash of the Rolodex card in her office with the horrid little devil figures and the words, May you rot in hell! I said, “Hmmmm. Well, I’m not sure what to make of this just yet, but I certainly appreciate your call.”

  “Glad to be of help. Perhaps we’ll see you at another tennis match?”

  “Could be.” I hung up and sat tapping my pencil and staring at my notes. So, now that I knew who she was, what did I really know? Having been involved in such a nasty scandal would certainly explain why she would have chosen to remain anonymous.

  Later that night, I sat propped up in bed with all the information spread out around me. The answer had to be here somewhere. When I closed my eyes, the words swirled and buzzed in my head like a swarm of angry bees.

  I forced my mind to relax and all at once, the fragmented clues began to fall neatly into place. Dr. Charles Sheffield had disappeared five years ago. Violet Mendoza had died mysteriously five years ago. Claudia had arrived in Castle Valley to manage the shelter five years ago!

  A chill prickled my scalp. An obviously frightened woman with a heavy Mexican accent had called John Dexter with information for sale. Someone else knew where John Dexter was headed that last day. If I was right, I knew where Jenny had gone and where the young girl we’d found in the desert had been all this time.

  A wild scheme began to form in my mind. Armed with nothing more than my hunch and a batch of circumstantial evidence, I knew now what I had to do. There was only one way to accomplish it, and Yolanda Reyes and Nona were going to help me.

  32

  Yolanda Reyes stared at me as if I’d lost my mind. “You want me to help for you to go inside the house of the crazy ones?”

  I kept my explanation brief, anchoring it mostly on John Dexter.

  “But, why did he go away?” she asked frowning. “Why did he not meet with the girl who calls him?”

  “I think he did.”

  Her face paled. “So…the letter. It was not from John?”

  “I doubt it.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth. “If John was there, then he is—”

  I cut off her next words. “That’s what I want to find out. But, I can’t get the proof I need unless I can get inside the place. If I’m wrong, I may find that it’s just what it’s supposed to be—a mental hospital run by an eccentric old psychiatrist, and that will be that. But, if I’m right…”

  She dabbed a tear from her eye. “What do you need for me to do?”

  “These people have got it cleverly fixed with the fence, the dogs, and the guards, so it’s impossible to get in. How those girls got out, we may never know, but I think I know a way I can get past the guards, and that’s where you come in.”

  At first, Yolanda looked doubtful about my plan to masquerade as one of the Hispanic girls from the Mexican shanty town. I convinced her it could be done, and that I would pay whoever arranged it two hundred dollars. The girl would have to speak some English and I needed to have an answer immediately. Yolanda looked worried when we parted.

  I, however, was elated, and put the next step in motion. Nona seemed delighted by my sudden visit and surprised at my request for the wig and theater makeup. “It’s a bit off season for Halloween parties, ain’t it?” she inquired, giving me a quizzical look.

  “I’ve been invited to a costume party. In Phoenix,” I added quickly.

  “Really? Well, sure, I’ll be tickled pink to help you out,” she said, digging jars from a drawer. “This color ought to do. It stays on real good, and this stuff’ll help you get it off when you’re done,” she said, pressing the containers into my outstretched hands. “You sure you want to go as a Spanish dancer? I got costumes here for Cleopatra, all manner of royalty, or I could even dress you up like Mae West. I had a bit part in one of her movies once, did I tell you?”

  As a precaution, I asked her not to mention my visit to Ginger. It was a surprise, I convinced her. She still looked skeptical, but I had no time to explain further.

  Yolanda phoned me at the paper around four o’clock. “I have found a girl named Rosa who can help you. She is not very happy to do this. She says strangers are not welcome there.”

  “Was she able to tell you anything about the people running the place?”

  “No. She says they have warnings never to talk of such matters.”

  My heart beat a little faster. Her voice grew plaintive. “Señorita O’Dell. Perhaps you should not do this. You do not understand my language. When they hear you talk, they will know!”

  “I’ve already thought of that. You can explain to Rosa that I don’t plan to speak at all. She can introduce me as her cousin from Mexico and tell them that I am mute, cannot speak or hear. Tell her I intend to have a quick look around, and then she can tell them I am sick and need to leave when the van goes for supplies the next day. But, I’m still going to need your help tonight.”

  Yolanda drilled me in Spanish until the wee hours, and later, after I’d donned the makeup and wig, she arranged the meeting at Rosa’s trailer. When I arrived, she was openly amazed at my transformation.

  Rosa Soto was almost as wide as she was tall, and she looked uncertain as I pressed the twenty dollar bills into her hand. All the while, Yolanda was explaining the setup to her in Spanish. Rosa’s gaze kept flickering over me suspiciously and she babbled something back to Yolanda who let out a sigh of exasperation. “She says it is too much risk for only two hundred dollars.”

  I said, “Tell her I’ll pay another three hundred when it’s all over.”

  That did the trick. Rosa gave me a yellow-toothed grin and waved us outside. Before the van arrived, I had given Yolanda an envelope and instructed her to deliver it to Tugg if she had not heard from me by four o’clock Saturday afternoon.

  Clustered with the other women outside, I stood silently as Rosa explained to the driver that I was a new employee. While I endured his careful scrutiny, my heart beat erratically. By the time he finally motioned me inside, my knees felt wobbly. I collapsed on the seat and sent a silent prayer of thanks to Nona. So far, the wig, skin makeup, and dark glasses had served their purpose.

  I prayed Yolanda was right when she had assured me that of all the people in town, the Mexican community was the one close knit group of people who knew how to keep secrets. Since Yolanda herself was probably here illegally, I knew what she meant.

  The interior of the van was suffocating. The combination of smells; warm fruit, strong body odor and gas fumes, mixed with the swaying motion of the vehicle, had me struggling for breath. Pressed closely between Rosa and another woman, I fought the nausea rising in my throat and tried to focus my thoughts on something else.

  The key to the mystery had been there in front of me all along. John’s crumpled note had made reference to the fact that the first two girls had been found on Talverson property. The third death, coupled with Mike Scott’s information regarding Claudia’s brother, provided the link I’d been missing. The common denominator had to be Serenity House. Tucked safely away in the desert, hidden from all prying eyes except mine, it provided Roy and Claudia a perfect spot to carry out their nasty smuggling operation. It hadn’t been Lucinda trying to scare me away. It had to be the sly Claudia.

  The driver hit a pothole and I grabbed the edge of the seat to keep from bouncing off.

  “It will not be long,” Rosa whispered beside me. I nodded and positioned one hand on the ceiling to steady myse
lf. There was no question in my mind that Tugg would brand me as certifiable if he knew what I was doing.

  We’d traveled about a half an hour when the van braked to a halt so suddenly, I was almost thrown to the floor. I heard the driver chattering to another man in Spanish and knew instinctively I was now on the grounds of Serenity House, probably at the guard station. My heart was pounding with excitement when the van accelerated and then came to a stop a second time. I made eye contact with Rosa and she squeezed my hand and put one finger to her lips.

  The driver opened the doors, letting fresh air flow inside. I drew in a thankful breath and squinted into the blinding sunlight. Carefully, I fingered the pencil flashlight underneath my blouse and felt the bulge of the Swiss army knife in the back pocket of my jeans as I followed the rest of the girls outside.

  We were met by a rather severe looking Hispanic woman with iron-gray hair and a terribly wrinkled face. She greeted the girls in Spanish and Rosa motioned for me to follow them. Ahead of us, across a grassy courtyard graced with towering cottonwood trees, loomed an impressive two-story building of white stucco topped with a red-tiled roof. Several smaller wings flanked each end. The one to the right contained the kitchen, Rosa explained in a low voice, and the stone structure next to it was the monastery. The ancient bell tower, backdropped by Castle Rock, spired upward toward puffy white clouds.

  To my right, glossy, sable Dobermans paced restlessly along the inner fence. Set back to my left, nestled in groves of palm and eucalyptus trees, were several wooden structures. The large one looked like a garage, the smaller ones were probably used for storage.

  I followed Rosa inside the building through a dark, narrow hallway until it opened into an enormous flagstoned kitchen. The heat emanating from three ovens almost took my breath away. Face averted, I waited beside a long butcher block table while Rosa crossed to talk to a heavy-set Hispanic cook. I knew she was explaining that I could not speak or hear, and that only she could communicate with me through sign language. The cook shook her head in disgust and pointed me to a mound of potatoes. Rosa set to work washing dishes nearby.

  So far so good. I was so wired, I could hardly hold onto the potato peeler. Praying that the theater makeup wouldn’t wash off my hands as I rinsed the potatoes, I wondered again at my rash decision. My mother had always warned me that my impulsive behavior would one day get me into serious trouble. I hoped she was wrong this time. There should be no danger if I did nothing to attract attention to myself. All I needed was enough time to prove my theory.

  The kitchen buzzed with activity, and the dour cook, assisted by Rosa and two others, turned out an amazing amount of delicious-smelling food. The young women shouldered heavy trays back and forth through the swinging kitchen door.

  I signaled to Rosa when she returned with her empty tray. While the cook’s back was turned I told her I needed some time to check the outside area, and after that the interior. She said she’d figure out a way as soon as the dinner shift ended.

  Dusk had fallen by the time I finished three hours of peeling potatoes. I massaged my numb fingers. If I never saw another potato again, I wouldn’t care. Rosa jabbered something to the cook and then motioned for me to follow.

  She handed me a bucket and rags and showed me to a pantry area. “You clean the shelves.” She reacted to my look of distaste with an amused grin. “There is a window behind you. How long will you take?”

  “Give me at least an hour, and then meet me here.” After closing the door firmly behind her, I turned and ran to the window. It was open, so all I had to do was remove the screen. I slipped outside and ducked behind some oleander bushes while I got my bearings. As far as I could tell I was now behind the kitchen building. That meant the garage and other buildings I’d seen on my way in would be to my left. Keeping my back to the wall, I edged around the corner to the right. The courtyard area before me was brightly lit. Beyond that, a few hundred feet from the gate, a silhouette filled the window of the guard tower. Quietly retracing my steps, I anxiously wondered if the grounds were patrolled at regular intervals by guards accompanied by the vicious- looking dogs. It was a chance I had to take.

  The bright moon presented a problem. I had to wait until it vanished behind a cloud before making my move. Drawing in a deep breath, I sprinted across the open space into the shadows beneath a grove of trees, then dashed across a driveway to what I guessed was the garage. Exhilarated and gasping for air, I made my way behind the building and peered through a small, grimy window into the dark interior.

  The clouds were drifting away from the moon when I discovered a nearby door. I pushed it open and slipped inside. The narrow beam of my pencil flashlight did little to break the gloom, but between that and the moonlight streaming in some larger windows on the south side, I could make out two of the white vans and Dr. Price’s black Mercedes.

  My hand was on the door handle when the sudden sound of approaching footsteps from outside broke the silence and almost stopped my heart. I ducked behind the Mercedes and held my breath. Lights flashed on above me and I saw two dark-haired men enter from a door in the front.

  Frantically, I looked for a place to hide. Laughing loudly while conversing in Spanish, the men seemed to be headed right for me. In a panic, I dropped to the floor and scrambled underneath the car, almost losing my wig in the process.

  Flat to the floor, my cheek pressed against the cool concrete, I was eye level with their shoes. Inexplicably, the desire to giggle was almost overwhelming. I bit the inside of my lip and shut my eyes. When one of them opened the car door on the driver’s side, I almost lost it. Oh, shit! Don’t let him start it.

  I could hear one of the men rummaging around inside and then to my relief, saw his feet reappear and heard the car door slam. Only after they’d shut out the lights and left did I move. And then it was a tremendous effort to get my rubbery legs to support me.

  “You are definitely insane, O’Dell,” I muttered as my racing pulse gradually slowed. I finished searching the garage, being careful to use my flashlight as little as possible.

  Disappointed to find nothing of interest, I stepped outside again. I was about to lose the moonlight behind the mass of dark clouds now gathering over the top of Castle Rock. Beyond the garage, I saw the outline of another structure about a hundred yards away. Crouching low, I hurried noiselessly along a sandy path.

  When I reached the building, I felt comparatively safe, situated well behind the main house and out of sight of the guard station. I circled the structure. There were no windows and in the dim glow of my light I read the large sign on the door. POOL CHEMICALS DANGER! KEEP OUT. Underneath, it warned in Spanish: ¡PELIGRO! ENTRADA PROHIBIDA.

  I started to move away and then stopped in my tracks. Wait a minute. What was so dangerous about pool chemicals? I turned back, playing the light over the padlock which I tugged to no avail.

  The lock was solid, but I noticed the strip of metal behind it was anchored to the splintery wood with rusted screws. After a few minutes of frustration, I was finally able to pry it loose with my knife.

  After a quick look behind me, I pushed against the door. It was stuck. I pressed harder. The wood was probably swollen due to the humidity, I thought. One more firm shove and the door loosened. I winced at the protesting squeak of hinges as I edged it open.

  When I stepped forward something soft brushed my face. Involuntarily, I jumped back and shined the light into the opening, shuddering. A web that seemed the size of a trapeze net covered the doorway. An enormous spider scuttled from the middle of it and disappeared above the doorframe.

  I considered going no further until the faint beam of my flashlight picked up a shape in the gloom. Whatever it was, it was big.

  I grabbed a stick and stifled the urge to scream as I cleared away the web. Not daring to even think about where the spider was, I bolted inside and approached the mass which was covered with a tarpaulin. I lifted the canvas back and gasped. Bright red paint glittered back at me. I had f
ound John Dexter’s truck.

  33

  Even though I had been half expecting it, the discovery left me in shock. The burning question of what had happened to John Dexter’s truck was now answered. And what of John? The sense of immediate danger was strong as I stood rigidly contemplating my next move. Better proceed with extreme caution, or risk the possibility of becoming instant dog food.

  I couldn’t very well bring back the whole truck as proof, but I needed something tangible to show the county attorney. It took only a minute to locate the truck’s registration. It read: John J. Dexter.

  Outside again, I pulled the door shut while stuffing the small paper in my pocket. A sudden flash of lightning made me jump. The wind had picked up, and the smell of rain was in the air. Rumbles of thunder accompanied me as I alternately sprinted and crept back to the pantry where Rosa waited.

  She threw me a worried look. “You are very late!”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, brushing the remains of leaves and dirt from my clothing and hair. “I got delayed.”

  “I must take coffee to Dr. Price. Where do you want to go?”

  “With you.” To substantiate the second part of my theory, getting a good look at Dr. Price was next on the list.

  Again, she gave me a troubled look and shrugged. She explained to the cook that I needed to accompany her so she could put me to work scrubbing floors. That seemed to satisfy her.

  Rosa led me from the kitchen through a maze of wood-paneled hallways to a wide staircase. Dr. Price and the head nurse lived in a suite of rooms in the main structure and the patients were in the building beyond, she explained, gesturing towards arcadia doors. In the low light, I could just make out a palm draped breezeway that connected the two buildings.

  At the top of the stairs, she motioned for me to put down the bucket and take the heavy tray from her. The aroma of coffee and the sight of the fresh cookies made me wish I’d eaten earlier.

 

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