that you never get so much as charged. And that ought to give you great
comfort.”
Somehow it didn’t.
CHAPTER 31
Chad Palmer tightened the cinch on Hansel, his chestnut quarter horse with a star on his nose and black socks. He put one boot in the stirrup, threw his other leg over the horse, and settled into the saddle. Gretel, Hansel’s sister, snorted in the adjacent stall, unhappy that Hansel was going out while she had to stay behind. Temperatures seemed to have hit a slump, dropping to just above 100 degrees. Twenty-five days in a row of triple digits, but still not as brutal as the prior week, when the mercury topped out at 109 degrees for three consecutive days.
Chad pulled the reins to the side, turned Hansel, and headed out of the barn, across the corral, through the gate, and off into the trees. Ever since he was a little boy, Chad sought the comfort of the woods to think and clear his head in times of trouble. Today was no different. The news reports he had heard were disturbing. Not a lot of detail, just enough to signal trouble for an old friend who had already seen more than her fair share of trouble. He wanted to reach out to her, to offer his assistance, but what could he do? He was just a lowly Texas Hill Country veterinarian, a decade her senior, who had hoped to wait for her to come of age, but she left years ago and never looked back.
Not that he blamed her. There were too many sad memories associated for her with everything in Texas. And even if she came back, he was now divorced, closer to fifty than forty, and hardly a catch, his skin leathered and tanned by years in the sun.
Still...
He moved through an arch of willows that grew together overhead, creating a tunnel of trees. As kids, he and Adam Tucker had ridden their horses here, pretending they were entering a cave or playing Butch and Sundance, running from the Pinkerton posse led by Joe Lefors. Sometimes Peggy, Adam’s little sister, followed them, wanting to play with the big kids, only to be sent packing by Adam. The trail ended at a ledge overlooking the Medina River, not nearly as high as the cliff in the movie, but enough of a drop to create an adrenaline rush as they held hands and jumped off into the cool, clear waters below. Adam was always the one who wanted to mimic Sundance’s famous yell as they fell. Sometimes Peggy only pretended to go home, then followed and jumped right behind them, mimicking Adam’s “Ohhhhhh shiiiiiittt!!!” Chad wondered if she was saying that same thing today.
His thoughts were taken back to the present by Waylon Jennings singing Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way?, his cell phone’s signature ringtone. Chad was surprised by the tone, cell reception being so spotty on his ranch. The farther he rode from the house and the barn, the less likely he was to have service at all. In the trees along the ridgeline, near the meadow at the entry to his property, there was no prayer of reception. And yet he carried his phone with him everywhere he went. You never knew when a patient was in trouble and his owner urgently needed the doctor.
He answered without checking the read-out to see who the caller was. “Hello.”
The next words he heard chilled him. He had heard the same words spoken nearly twenty years ago by the same voice, with the same tremulous tone:
“Chad? It’s Peggy. I’m in trouble.”
There was something comforting to Teri in Chad’s voice, even though he had spoken but one word. There was strength in hearing the one person in the world who had believed in her and stood by her in her time of need, when she felt her whole life coming apart, as if she stood on a precipice of her own. Now that she found herself perched there again, she reached for the same lifeline he had thrown her once before.
Window down, breeze rustling her hair and drying tears on her cheeks, Teri maneuvered her SUV up Coldwater Canyon Drive, her thoughts wandering to Mona lying helpless, but at least alive, in her hospital bed. It was a classic good news/bad news situation. The bad news was that her friend was barely clinging to life, but the good news was that at least it took Teri’s mind off the fact that she was a murder suspect.
She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a boxy sedan, looked like a Mercedes, following. It periodically accelerated as the road temporarily straightened out, as if preparing to pass, but then would drop back as the straight-a-ways returned to their inevitable curves. Teri checked her speedometer and saw that she was lagging below the speed limit.
She pushed down harder on the gas and upped her speed. “Sorry,” she thought, as if the mental apology could somehow reach the impatient driver behind her.
“What kind of trouble?” Chad asked.
“I need a lawyer. A criminal lawyer.”
For a moment there was nothing but silence, but Teri could hear
Chad’s breathing on the other end. Then she also heard familiar sounds, sounds that tugged at her heart and drew her home. Rustling of trees and the steady clip-clop of horse’s hooves.
“You riding?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Then you already know why I’m calling.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It’s the middle of the day,” she said. “You only ride in the middle of
the day when you’re upset.”
“I always thought you should have been a lawyer. Your mind is so
logical, you’d be a whiz at putting cases together and drawing
conclusions.”
“Is it all over the radio and TV out there?” she asked. The reporters
had already started to gather at the hospital when she slipped out through
the loading dock and hustled to her car. How long before they
congregated outside her house? She had to get there first and get inside.
Her bunker mentality instincts were kicking into high gear.
“No one knows your connection here, so it’s not a big issue,” he said.
“As far as the good people of Bandera County are concerned, it’s just
another Hollywood sensation that has nothing to do with them.” “I hope it stays that way. What have you heard?”
“I saw a couple of reports on the national news, but no details,” he
said. “Just that Mona had been hurt and that you were at the hospital with
the police. They made it sound like you might even be a suspect.” “Not for Mona.”
Another long pause, as Chad filled in the blanks. “But for something
else.”
“Like I said, I need a criminal lawyer.”
“You know I shut down my law practice a long time ago. Taking care
of animals pretty much pays all of my bills these days.”
“But you do still have your law license, don’t you?”
Chad paused before answering. She heard the clip-clop of hooves fall
silent. He had reined his horse in, probably at the river, to let him drink. “I’d be happy if I never saw the inside of a courtroom again,” he said. “I need someone I can trust.”
“That didn’t work out so well last time.”
“You had a bad client. She wouldn’t let you use the truth.” “What about this time?”
Now it was Teri’s turn to pause. Let’s see, what was the truth this
time? She had inherited a screenplay from a man who, it turned out, may
not have actually been dead, so she may not actually have owned his
screenplay, putting her big comeback movie in jeopardy. Then she had
conspired with several others—including a very powerful and very rich
man who would have been happy to see the resurrected screenwriter
removed—to confront the risen-from-the-dead screenwriter in the
middle of the night, who then got into a car exactly like hers and drove up
to Big Sur during a period of time she could not account for, and someone
put a bullet in his back at the identical spot where he had met his demise in
the first place.
That was the truth, and it was a very damning truth. It was a truth
/>
that could ruin everything for her, everything she had worked so hard for,
to climb up off the trash heap her career had been relegated to. It was a
truth that even she had a hard time believing. And yet it was a better truth
than the one that she covered up all those years ago.
“Yes,” she said at last. “I want you to use the truth.”
Chad heaved his shoulders, as if a weight had been lifted. A strange feeling, since he knew Peggy’s troubles, whatever they might be, were just beginning. Or, more likely, simply continuing after a two decade long hiatus. But she was promising him carte blanche with the one commodity she had withheld from him before: the truth. He knew what a powerful weapon the truth could be. It was every lawyer’s dream, to have truth on your side. You could then be Superman, fighting for truth, justice, and the American way. He knew things would have been different last time if Peggy had just relinquished her grip on the truth and let it out into the light of day. He understood why she had not wanted to, the pain it would inflict on people she loved. But no matter how much he had begged, she clutched it to herself even more tightly, as if protecting it from public view with her body.
He never really knew the whole truth, in fact, though he suspected. Peggy’s dad suspected, too, as did her mom, but the only person who really knew, who could really say what had actually happened, had been Peggy. And her lips were sealed.
So to hear her now say that she would arm him with the one weapon she had withheld last time was a huge relief. It might not save the day— and given that he didn’t even know what the trouble was, well might not—but he vowed to himself that he would reward her trust.
“Okay,” he said. “The answer to your question is, yes, I still have my law license. And yes, I’ll be your lawyer. But you know I’m not licensed in California.”
He could hear relief in her voice, as she said, “Thank you, Chad. Because it’s happening all over again. I—”
Her next words were drowned out by a screech of what sounded like tires, followed by a metal-on-metal banging sound.
Then the line went dead.
He looked at the phone and saw that he still had service, albeit weak. He punched the callback button and waited.
A female voice, not Peggy’s, answered. “Your call has been forwarded to—”
He jabbed the “off” button, headed Hansel around, and sprinted for the barn.
CHAPTER 32
As the trailing car rammed into her SUV, Teri’s face bounced forward and smashed into the steering wheel. The phone slipped from her fingers, bounced off the passenger seat, and slid into the gap between the seat and door.
Teri shook her head to clear the cobwebs. She looked in the rearview mirror. Two things jumped out at her. The first was the gush of blood down her face, its point of origin a cut on her forehead. She knew that the skin there was thin and notorious for easy blood flow, even with minor cuts, yet the volume of blood frightened her. Glancing at her hand, she saw the culprit. She had apparently slammed her head into her hand that gripped the wheel, and her ruby eternity ring had gouged the skin. Her hand, too, was decorated with her blood.
The second thing she saw, and had to look back to the mirror to confirm, was that she had been rammed by the same sedan that had been following her, the one she originally thought wanted to pass. Now she realized it had been merely stalking her. Its windshield was tinted, and all she could make out was the dim outline of a head, its face and gender unrecognizable.
The sedan disengaged, dropping back about twenty feet. Teri took a deep breath. She looked for a safe haven to turn into—a driveway, a street with traffic, anything. But there was nothing. Up ahead, another curve in the road loomed. She pressed on the accelerator, hoping to widen her lead and clear the curve, then make her escape up the straightaway that she knew was just beyond.
The impact of the second assault staggered her, delivered with far more force than the first. She deduced that the initial impact had merely been a wake-up call; the second was meant for something more sinister, a fact soon confirmed as the sedan not only maintained contact, but also began pushing her forward. She pressed harder on the gas, trying to disengage, but to no avail. Then the sedan pulled back again and followed. Waiting for another chance to attack, no doubt.
Teri formulated her own strategy. She lessened pressure on the accelerator as she entered the curve. Then came the inevitable surge from the trailing car. It closed the gap quickly then, just as impact seemed inevitable, Teri slammed on her brakes. She hoped to surprise her assailant. She almost smiled at the thought of him banging his face on his own steering wheel.
What she hadn’t counted on, though, was her own vehicle’s reaction. Upon impact, the airbag exploded from the steering wheel. It punched her in the face like a heavyweight’s fist and drove her back against the seat. She heard a crackling sound and knew instantly her nose had broken. The airbag deflated nearly as quickly as it opened. She fought at it with both hands, desperately trying to get at least one of them back on the steering wheel.
The sedan maintained contact, pushing now with great force. It obviously had some kind of super-charged engine, and its aggression was powerful. Fighting past the airbag, Teri grabbed the wheel and turned sharply to the left in reaction to what she saw ahead—a sharp turn in the road, with a steep drop-off. She managed to keep her wheels on the pavement as she pushed against the brake pedal with both feet, straightening her legs, her back pressed hard against the seat. The squeal of tires on concrete filled her ears, smoke from burning rubber obscuring her vision much as the fires in the nearby hills had done before.
She looked in the mirror again, hoping to catch some glimpse of the driver’s identity. If she was going off a cliff like Leland Crowell, she at least wanted to know who had been responsible. Then she saw a second car, barely visible as the road wiggled in a slight S curve. Another sedan, much older, much larger than her aggressor. Accelerating, gaining on them. Then it appeared to pass as it moved side-by-side with her assailant, between the sedan and the cliffside. Its windows were also tinted, its driver invisible.
A gasp escaped from Teri’s lips as the second car swerved sharply and slammed into the attack car. For a few moments, she felt the power of both cars behind her, surging forward, her own vehicle powerless. Then the second car succeeded in driving the first completely to the right. Teri felt freedom as its bumper slid apart from hers. Disengaged, Teri floored it.
She rounded another curve, headed to safety, as her assailant’s vehicle slammed through a guardrail, momentarily suspended on air then disappeared down the mountainside. Teri watched in disbelief as her rescuer’s car slowed to a near stop, made a Y-turn in the road, and headed back down the mountain.
Teri exhaled, realizing for the first time that she had been holding her breath. Then she limped home, her hands trembling as they tried to hold the wheel and keep her car between the lines.
CHAPTER 33
Teri’s breath came in ragged gasps. She pulled into her driveway, retrieved her cell phone, then raced for the house and slammed the door behind her. She leaned against it and slid to the floor. She knew she must look like a refugee from a war zone, with blood still streaming down her face from the cut on her forehead. Blood from her nose had already dried and crusted around her nostrils. Her tee-shirt was soaked with dark red splotches, reminiscent of retro tie-dyed clothing from the ‘60s.
She felt her tender nose, surprised to find a complete lack of feeling. She got to her feet and looked in the mirror on the coat-rack just inside the entryway. Her eyes had already blackened and her nose was a swollen glob in the middle of her face. She wiped blood away from the center of her forehead and looked at her wound, shocked that such a small gash could cause so much blood flow.
She stumbled to a half-bathroom by the utility room, grabbed a hand towel, soaked it with water, and wiped at the blood. The flow had ebbed to a trickle, enough that perhaps she could staunch it co
mpletely with a thick bandage. She opened the cabinet door and fumbled around until she found a half-empty tube of antiseptic ointment and an unopened box of bandages. After doctoring her wounds, she stripped out of her shirt and bra and tossed them in the washing machine, then peeled off her bloody jeans and tossed them in as well. Once she had the washer going, she headed, nearly naked, to the kitchen, grabbed the phone, and dialed. After two rings, Mike’s voice answered.
“This is Mike. You know what to do at the tone.”
She waited for the tone then left her message. “Mike? I need you. Call me on the landline.” She hung up and headed for her bedroom to shower and dress. She stopped long enough to open the curtains over the sliding door, flooding the room with sunlight. Just as she entered the bedroom door, her bedside phone rang. She snatched it up on the third ring.
“Mike?”
“No, it’s Chad. Are you all right?”
A wave of dizziness rolled over Teri, accompanied by a churning in
her stomach. Before her legs could collapse, she sat on the edge of the bed. She breathed in heaping gasps. A panic attack. She hadn’t had one of these in almost twenty years.
“Peggy, are you all right?” She regained her breath and found her voice, though she knew it sounded weak, as if in a tunnel. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”
“Peggy, you’ve got to tell me what’s going on. What happened while ago? You got cut off. It sounded like a wreck.”
“I—”
The doorbell sounded before she could finish her sentence.
“I think that’s Mike at the door. I’ve got to go.”
“First tell me you’re all right.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’ll call me later and let me know what’s going on?”
“I will. I promise.”
She hung up, grabbed a pair of shorts and a replacement tee-shirt, and then ran to the front door. Mike must have already been on his way when she called. She knew that her battered face would be shocking to him, but there was no way to prepare him for it other than to simply let him see it for himself. She just hoped that Doug Bozarth was not in tow. For reasons that she couldn’t articulate even to herself, she felt that he had something to do with the car that tried to run her off the road. She also believed that he had something to do with the events of last night, including the attack on Mona, though she had no proof. It was simply a gut feeling, a hunch that she had gone from an asset to a liability as far as he was concerned.
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