by Sylvia Nobel
“I have my own plans for Ms. O’Dell, Charles. Rochelle knows all about it.”
“I thought we agreed to take care of the problem here.”
“Why don’t you run upstairs and talk to her. She’ll explain things to you.”
“So, everything goes on just as always?”
“Yes.”
I had the notion, by the whiteness of Eric’s knuckles as he clutched the steering wheel, that if the gun hadn’t been pointed at me, he’d have shot Charles with no qualms.
He ran the window back up, terminating the conversation. Charles backed away from the car, looking uncertain, and then bolted for the main building.
Eric saluted the guard, and once the gates and snarling dogs were behind us, I felt a slight sense of relief. Perhaps I could convince him to set me free.
I couldn’t believe the transformation of Lost Canyon Road. There must have been an extraordinary amount of rain to cause the wide crevices and deep puddles. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than Eric slammed on the brakes. In front of us, the normally dry wash was running like a river. I stared, fascinated, at the churning water and sensed his hesitation as he read the DO NOT CROSS WHEN FLOODED sign. “We can make it,” he stated firmly. “I’ve done it before.”
My heart skipped. “Eric! Don’t be crazy. You’ll drown us both!”
Ignoring me, he lowered both front windows, and then arched over me to study the water level. “I just crossed this a few hours ago. It isn’t that high.”
“It looks too dangerous.” He gave me a disdainful look. “I’ve lived in Arizona all my life. I know what I’m doing.” He eased the car into the swollen wash. Stiff with fright, I watched the water climb, and then a movement ahead caught my attention. Was that a car coming this way?
I tucked my knees under me and sprang for the open window, screaming, “Help! Help me!”
Eric reached out, hooked his fingers into my belt, and dragged me back beside him. He grabbed a handful of my hair and twisted it painfully. “Sit still.”
I struggled against him and then our movements froze as we both became aware of the strange noise at the same time. It sounded like the roar of a freight train.
The look of puzzlement in Eric’s eyes switched to horror. I turned and saw a wall of water at least three feet high, headed right for us. Eric’s screams mingled with my own as the churning brown tide struck the car.
37
A wave of cold water slapped me, the force of it jamming me between the dashboard and steering wheel. With my nose almost touching the windshield, I watched in horror as we rocketed down the wash. When the car ricocheted off the embankment, I was thrown painfully against the passenger door. After choking on the third mouthful of muddy water, I decided to quit screaming and concentrate on my next breath. Caught in the swirling, churning current, the car bounced and bucked liked a wild bronco.
“Eric!” I shouted. “Untie me!” He paid no attention. When the top of a jagged rock loomed ahead I screamed, “Look out!” We hit head on. The sudden stop punched the air from my lungs. Fumbling madly with my bonds, I watched with despair as Eric began to scramble out the window.
“Wait, I can’t swim like this! Help me!”
Ignoring my plea, he clawed for a hold on the rock, still half in and half out of the car when another surge of water sent us spinning away. Eric cried out and pitched forward, flailing his arms wildly. To my amazement, he ended up clinging to the hood ornament. For a brief second, our eyes met. I read death in them. His face looked almost serene as he yelled, “Tell Mother…I’m sorry.”
Then, the force of the water tore him away. In a matter of seconds, he disappeared into the rain swollen wash. “Jesus!” I screamed, struggling desperately to get loose. The car was twisting in a circle now, adding disorientation to my waking nightmare.
The water-soaked cloth around my wrists finally loosened, and I jerked my hands free as the car jolted to a stop once again, lodged on something below the surface. In fascinated horror, I stared at the swiftly running water only a few inches below the windows.
Stranded in the middle of the wash, the banks on either side probably less than fifteen feet away, I had no doubt I’d meet the same fate as Eric if I tried to make it to shore. It would be best for now to stay put and wait for help. That idea was short lived as the car settled further and water began to pour in.
There was nothing to do but climb onto the roof. I scrambled out and up, spread-eagling myself face down on the slippery surface. I clamped my fingers around the window frames and hung on, alternately praying and shouting for help. Whoever had been in that vehicle on the road must have seen what happened.
Overhead, thunder rumbled in the storm-darkened sky. “Oh, no,” I groaned. The quickening wind blew against my wet clothes, sending me into shivery spasms. When the first big drops of rain splattered on my back, I closed my eyes and waited for the worst. Thoughts of my childhood and all those I loved, played out before me.
The steady blasts of a horn jerked me to reality. I squinted through the driving rain and felt a jolt of disbelief. It didn’t seem possible, but Tally stood on the muddy embankment waving his hat and shouting something I couldn’t hear as he held up a coil of rope.
Gesturing with his hands, he began to run upstream. I was saved! A sensation of overwhelming relief swept over me. I’d never been so glad to see anyone before in my life. How had he found me? That must have been him on the road. I craned my neck in his direction and willed my stiff, aching fingers to continue their hold. He strapped on an orange lifejacket, secured the rope around a tree, tied the other end under his arms, and then waded into the water.
Forever. It seemed like forever, but suddenly, as if in a dream, he was there beside me. The rushing water brought him against the car with a resounding thump.
“Kendall! Are you all right?”
“I think so,” I gasped.
He pulled in the slack and wound the rope around the side-view mirror, anchoring him closer to me. “I’ve already radioed the sheriff’s posse for help. Whose car is this?” he shouted, uncoiling another piece of rope.
“Eric Heisler’s.”
“Heisler? Where is he?”
“Dead.”
“What happened?”
“Tally,” I panted. “It’s a terribly long story. Can we talk later? I just want to get out of here.”
“I’m working on it,” he said grimly, and then added with a glint of humor in his eyes, “you said you wanted rain. Well, you got it.”
“Very funny.”
“Here.” He extended a section of the shorter rope to me. “Can you tie this around your chest?”
The thought of cinching it tightly around my sore ribs wasn’t pleasant, but there was no choice. “I guess so.” Tentatively, I let go with one hand and grasped the cord. He reached up and grabbed my thigh, steadying me as I let go of the other side and rolled onto my back. The effort to tie the knot left me breathless. “What do we do now?”
He tied the other end of the short rope onto his knot. “You come into the water with me. The current will carry us to shore.”
I hesitated, staring at the muddy, foaming water, and then met his eyes. They reflected concern, confidence, and something else. He held out one hand to me. “Tally, you promised not to rescue me again.”
“Request permission to break my promise.”
“Permission granted.” I edged toward him, then stiffened in fright at the sight of a massive log rushing at him. “Tally! Look out!” Before he could react the log struck him from behind, smashing him into the side of the car. He fell face forward into the choppy water. Still connected together at the chest by the short rope, I felt the sharp tug against me. The longer length of rope, still attached to the tree trunk on shore, strained, and finally snapped under the weight of the tree trunk.
“Tally!” Without another thought for myself, I jumped into the raging current and pulled his head above water. His head lolled to the side, resting
atop the life vest. Thank heaven for that.
But as I watched the end of the rope trail uselessly away in the torrent, it was difficult to quell the surge of hysteria. Just keep his head above water, I urged myself, taking up the slack between us. I wound the middle of the rope around the mirror and that helped hold me upright while my legs were pounded with rocks, sticks, and unknown debris sweeping by.
The storm seemed never-ending and my spirits sagged as darkness settled. Where was the back up he’d ordered? Someone had to find us soon. “Tally! Wake up. Please wake up.” All around us, extraordinary forks of magenta lightning slashed the sky, followed by deafening cracks of thunder.
I hugged his body close to mine, surprised at the depth of feeling I had for this man. The lump on the center of his forehead expanded and I ran my fingers over it, trailed them down to his cheeks, which I patted gently, then traced his lips, thinking it was an extremely odd time to want to kiss him.
“A little mouth to mouth might not be a bad idea,” he said with a weak grin, his eyes opening slowly.
“Tally! Thank God. How long have you been conscious?”
“Long enough.”
“Are you all right?”
He grimaced and let out a groan. “Except for the fact that I think my arm is broken, yeah.”
“It’s all my fault. What now?”
“We wait.”
“For what?”
“DPS will be on their way by now,” he said, squinting upward. “The worst of the storm seems to be over.”
No sooner had he spoken than we heard the unmistakable clatter of helicopter blades. The chopper swung over the nearby trees, shining its cold blue light down on us. Then it was directly overhead, the sound earsplitting, the blast of air from the blades whipping my hair across my face.
I insisted the paramedic take Tally first because of his arm. He protested, but I won out. It seemed like another hour spent in the cold water before the basket came back down for me. It was a dizzying ride up, swinging back and forth in the wind.
It felt wonderful to have the blanket wrapped around me, a steaming drink cupped in both hands. Tally didn’t make a sound as the paramedic fussed and fiddled with his arm. He kept his jaw locked, his eyes fixed on me. Despite the warmth of the blanket, my teeth continued to chatter uncontrollably.
“Is there something I can get for you, miss?” the young man asked, turning his attention to me.
I kept eye contact with Tally. “Yeah. Right now, a big plate of hot tamales sounds pretty good to me.”
38
A week had gone by and Castle Valley was still abuzz, rocked to the core by the revelation of Eric’s sordid “baby mill” operation—just as John Dexter had predicted.
Claudia, (I could never think of her as Rochelle) survived her gunshot wounds. After the discovery of Eric’s body the following day, she and Charles confessed their part in the scheme, and Roy was picked up by the U.S. marshall’s office. To my immense relief, Rosa had been discovered hiding in the shed where Dexter’s truck had been concealed. The door had always been locked prior to my break in, so the guards didn’t think to look there. Charles admitted he’d had orders to destroy the truck, but had let greed get the better of him. He’d planned to use it later after interest in Dexter’s disappearance had died down.
I thought about these things and others, as I hunched over Tugg’s desk proof-reading the day’s copy. He had asked me to take charge during his recuperation from surgery. Everyone at the office had gladly pitched in, and there was a lot of excitement when my first-person story was picked up by the wire service.
Amid all the praise, I had to humbly remind myself how foolish and how lucky I’d been. My injuries were mild, a couple of cracked ribs, compared to Tally’s concussion and shattered arm, which had required two surgeries. We had talked briefly two or three times on the phone, but because of my long working hours I’d only had a chance to visit him a short time at the hospital in Phoenix and even then, he’d been too groggy to talk much.
The investigation at Serenity House had unearthed more gruesome details. Not only had sheriff’s deputies discovered the body of Dexter buried in the ancient cemetery, also found were the remains of eight teenage girls. Autopsies revealed they had either died in childbirth or been shot as Dexter had. Traces of the same drug were found in each girl’s body.
Charles Sheffield acknowledged his use of Thorazine, a drug commonly used to subdue mental patients. It had kept the girls calm, yet not harmed the fetuses. Claudia had also dispensed it at the shelter to make the girls easy to handle. It made sense now why Roy had gone to such lengths to keep the toxicology reports from both Dexter and myself.
It still bothered me greatly that I’d almost fallen prey to Eric’s evil charms. The job offer and declarations of love had all been part of a masterful ploy to lure me away from the house. Claudia had confessed her role in playing the “ghost” outside my bedroom that had easily frightened away the former tenants. When that and the spider episode failed, she had arranged for Roy to ambush me in the darkroom. Eric had ordered her to stop, but because of her obsession for him, she hadn’t been able to resist leaving the threatening message on my recorder.
Her confession also contained other fascinating information that filled in some of the gaps.
Eric’s affair with Claudia had brought him into contact with Charles after he’d been released from prison. Broke and minus his medical license, Charles had fallen deeply into debt. It was during that period that Thena asked for Eric’s help, and the real Dr. Price, who’d been little known in the community, had died in a Phoenix hospital. Because Eric was executor of his estate, and Dr. Price had no relatives, he was the only one aware of his passing. The realization of just how lucrative the adoption business could be, and the idea to increase the supply of babies, led to the demise of poor Violet Mendoza, who’d been coldbloodedly run down by Claudia. Roy had altered the eyewitness report and a week later Claudia slipped into the dead woman’s position at the shelter.
Meanwhile, Eric was secretly funneling the real mental patients to other institutions, and then Charles, in full disguise, was installed as the new Dr. Price. That certainly explained why Thena Rodenborn hadn’t recognized his voice the second time she spoke to him about exploring the old monastery. And it was also crystal clear why he’d left the table so suddenly the night of the fund-raiser and hadn’t stopped the day he’d run me off the road.
The sharp ringing of Tugg’s phone interrupted my thoughts. He announced he’d just arrived home from the hospital and wanted to know how things were going. It had been a zoo without him and Tally, but we’d all worked long hours to get the paper out. “I’m proofing my article for Wednesday’s edition, now,” I informed him.
“I feel like I’ve been on the moon for two weeks,” he complained. “What other evidence has turned up?”
“Deputy Potts called me a while ago. They found another body yesterday. Charles has confirmed that it’s the Hispanic girl who first contacted Dexter.”
“No kidding? The one who wanted to exchange information for money and the ticket to Nogales?”
“Right. That’s why I never heard from her again.”
“Jee-zuss! What else?”
“This is hard to believe, but Caesarean sections were performed on several of the girls before their due dates. Eric apparently needed the extra cash to cover land payments.”
“Un-friggin’-believable.”
“He would have collected almost two hundred thousand by the end of the month with the births of four babies, enough to pay the note due on the tennis ranch.”
Tugg groaned. “This is the sickest thing I have ever heard.”
We talked a while longer about work and then Tugg told me the real reason for his call. As I listened to his intriguing proposal, a delicious surge of anticipation warmed my cheeks. His news, coupled with the call from his wife earlier in the week, added another dimension to my growing list of options.
&nbs
p; By the time I reached home, the evening sky was a celebration of color, the bright amber rays transforming the spires of Castle Rock into a golden crown.
I was fishing for the keys to the front door when I heard a vehicle approaching. My skin tingled with delight as Tally’s truck rolled into the driveway.
Jake waved at me from the driver’s seat and I saw Tally’s warm smile. I got a memory flash of the first time I’d seen the two of them at the top of Yarnell Hill last spring, how frightened I’d been of the javelinas, how much Tally’s surly attitude had enraged me. Time had changed a lot of things.
I crossed to the truck and opened Tally’s door. The white sling around his arm contrasted with his brick-red shirt.
“He’s not supposed to be up and out yet, is he, Jake?” I chided. Tally had a look of pained concentration as he stepped from the truck.
“I tried to stop him, miss, but, he’d have none of it.” His tanned face wrinkled in a cheery smile.
“Aren’t you glad to see me?” Tally’s eyes reflected mock indignation and the hint of a question.
“Of course I am.” The mere sight of him had my pulse racing, and I wished I could forget that he’d gone to Colorado with Lucinda.
Jake pulled a brown paper bag from the truck, thrust it into Tally’s hand, and then waved good-bye, saying he’d return after running errands in town.
We stood close together, facing each other, our eyes locked. I hoped I wasn’t reading too much into his intent expression. The silence stretched between us until he finally said, “Do me a favor, would you? The next time you decide to do white-water rafting, I suggest you get something a little more seaworthy than a Mercedes.”
“I was up for something different that day. But, I will take your advice.”
He paused again. I knew that wasn’t what he’d planned to say, but it was an easy conversation opener.
“How’s your arm?” I asked.
“I won’t be doing any roping for a while.”
“I feel awful about that. Would you like to come in and sit down?”