A Perilous Pursuit

by Diane Gilmore

  After they sat for a few minutes in the living room, Taylor rose. “I think I’ll go upstairs and get ready for dinner.”

  “You’ll find the room stocked with everything you need,” Robert said. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

  Taylor went back upstairs to unpack and rest before dinner. Once in the cozy confines of her quarters, she wandered into an enormous bathroom that adjoined her room. It was luxurious, with gold-plated fixtures and a huge sunken tub. She opened one of the cabinets and found it to be fully supplied with scented bath soaps, salts, and an assortment of other toiletries, all brand new. She ran a hot bath and sprinkled in some of the fragrant salts. The bath completely relaxed her, and fully refreshed, she dressed for dinner.

  By the time she was ready to go downstairs, Culiacan had faded into early evening. She went to her window to look out and found that Robert was right. Her view of the mountains was breathtaking. The hills seemed to spread on forever, as far as she could see. They rose in gray, rocky peaks now, hiding the sun that had sunk slowly behind them. A cool, dry breeze blew through the drapes, caressing her skin and making her feel radiant.

  When she reached the living room, Robert was already there, standing by the fireplace while logs crackled against the chilly evening. He had a glass in his hand.

  He smiled and came toward her. “Taylor, you look wonderful. Riding horses definitely agrees with you.”

  His light touch was just the thing she needed to feel comfortable, and she accepted his compliment as well as the glass of white wine he had already poured for her.

  They went into the dining room. It was rich and stately and decorated in the same Spanish design as the rest of the house.

  “You cannot know how welcome your company is at this table, Taylor,” Robert said as they ate the broiled scallops that Maria prepared. “The shellfish you are eating came from right here in Sinaloa. This region is known for being a fishing resort, as well as being famous for its seafood exports.”

  “Do you always eat alone?” Taylor asked.

  “Sometimes,” Robert replied. “I frequently have business meetings during dinner, but having a relaxing meal with such a lovely young lady adds so much more pleasure to dining.”

  Maria brought in the remaining courses, each time regarding Taylor with a cool attitude.

  “She isn’t very friendly, is she?” Taylor asked Robert directly after the woman had left the room.

  Robert laughed. “Oh, no! That’s not it at all. You see, Taylor, you must understand the Mexican way. They are not as quick to flower friendships as the Americans are. They do not entertain formally and rarely take people, even friends, into their homes, as you and I might do in the States. It is very possible for one to befriend a Mexican, get to know him for a long time, drink and dine with him, yet never meet his family or cross the threshold to his front door. Maria is simply following an inbred tradition of being a bit wary of newcomers. She’ll loosen up, I promise you.”

  Like the Doberman she met earlier? Taylor thought. And what about Carlos? He wasn’t very amicable either. Everyone seemed to regard her with a guarded suspicion, yet she didn’t know why.

  Later that night, as she readied for bed, the familiar despair and fear for Craig enveloped her again. At such a late hour, low spirits were natural, she knew, but she couldn’t stop thinking about him, wondering where he was, or if she’d even come close to ever finding him at all.

  She walked to the large picture window and gazed out. The black Mexican sky held a blanket of stars, a sight she seldom saw back home through the L.A. smog. A full moon hung brilliantly above, bathing the mountains with a silvery white light. The quiet seemed endless, almost tranquil, but she felt no comfort in it. All she wanted right now was to wake up and find herself back in her own bed, with Craig lying next to her, realizing that it was all a bad dream.

  She missed him terribly. In his arms, she felt peace and contentment that she never thought possible. She couldn’t bear the thought of a future without him. It would be a blank and empty existence and her life adrift like it was before she met him. He gave her the ability to love again, something she would always be grateful to him for.

  Now that inner tranquility was shattered, her world turned upside down. And it was all caused by an illegal, frightening business unfamiliar to her, and by a drug kingpin intent on destroying Craig and all those connected with him. Her eyes narrowed angrily as the rage welled up inside her. If she could only find out who that madman was and get her hands on him—

  She drew in a shaky breath and turned away from the window. The air had suddenly become chilly. She had to quiet her runaway thoughts and her raw emotions. It had been a long day and she was tired. What was needed was sleep, she told herself. Sleep would make the loneliness go away, at least for a little while. The morning would bring a renewed courage, a refueled determination. She vowed to continue with her search, even though at the moment, she barely knew where to begin.

  She climbed up into the huge bed and sleep quickly consumed her, sending her deep into its depths until well into the morning.

  Chapter 20

  Taylor awoke early the next morning to find sunshine streaming through the open French windows. She felt wonderfully rested, and her spirits had risen with the sound sleep as well. Even though the sense of worry and depression for Craig returned, as usual, so now came a feeling of hope, and she was eager to resume her search with new resolve.

  She got up to jog in the cool, crisp air. Since coming to Mexico, she hadn’t been able to get much exercise in, and she missed her morning runs in L.A.

  Once outside, she stretched a little and headed toward the pastures.

  With each step, she felt renewed energy and optimism while her brain kept time with her feet. She would work it all out: Craig, Shaun, the whole drug thing. She had Robert to help her. The police would be more sympathetic to her plight with his assistance. Perhaps he had contacts at the Embassy as well. She made a mental note to herself to ask Robert about it upon her return.

  She ran around the main pasture, then slowed to a walk to cool off as she headed back to the house. Robert was already in the dining room reading a Spanish newspaper and drinking the rest of his coffee when she came down after changing her clothes. He was handsomely dressed in a black tweed jacket with a gray turtleneck underneath that made him look rather sophisticated. He had already eaten.

  His greeting was warm and cheerful. “Good morning. I hope you slept well.”

  “Great,” Taylor replied, sitting down. “I just went for a run around the main pasture. The mountain air must agree with me.”

  Robert smiled. “It certainly does, because you look absolutely wonderful this morning.”

  Maria appeared with Taylor’s breakfast with an expression no more welcoming than the day before. Hot toast was folded into a linen-lined basket, and there was a china plate filled with eggs and crisp bacon. Taylor suddenly felt hungry.

  “Robert, can you go to town with me today?” Taylor asked when Maria left the room. “I wanted to speak with some of the local officials you might know regarding Craig.”

  “I can’t,” Robert informed her as she ate. “I have to go out of town today on business. The arrangements were made rather suddenly. I won’t be back for a couple of days. I’m sorry.”

  When he saw her crestfallen expression, he added, “But don’t worry, darling. We’ll begin working on your project just as soon as I return. Just be patient a little while longer.”

  His term of endearment was clearly intended, and it caught Taylor off guard. A look of surprise crossed her face, but if he noticed it, he ignored it.

  “Feel free to ride the horses while I’m away,” Robert continued casually. “I remember how much you enjoyed Bonita yesterday. Consider her yours.”

  “Thank you,” Taylor said. �
�By the way, where are you going?”

  “Mexico City,” he said with finality, offering no further details of his trip. Then he added, “As I said, I probably won’t be back until the day after tomorrow. The house is yours. The staff will take care of anything you might need while I’m gone.”

  He sat at the table with her until she finished her breakfast. Presently Carlos appeared.

  “Your car is ready, Señor,” he said.

  Robert folded his newspaper and got up. He turned to Taylor. “I’ll see you when I return. I hope you’ll find things to amuse yourself with while I’m gone.”

  He left the room, and Taylor went to the window to watch his departure. His Mercedes sat waiting for him, its engine running. She saw Robert emerge through the front door, accompanied now by three rather large men Taylor had never seen before, equally dressed in proper business attire. A moment later, the car sped off down the circular driveway.

  She heard a noise behind her and turned to find Maria silently clearing the breakfast dishes.

  “You made a great breakfast, Maria,” Taylor complimented her in limited Spanish.

  The woman murmured a soft thank you in response. She flashed her a brief, matronly smile. Then she disappeared into the kitchen with the dishes.

  Perhaps she’s finally beginning to warm up to me, Taylor thought as she headed back to her room to put on her riding boots. With Robert gone, she had to wait a little longer to resume her search for Craig, until she could contact those he knew in the local government. Today would be the perfect opportunity to explore the house and surrounding grounds on horseback.

  Upstairs, she found her bed already made and the room tidied up. Maria had evidently been there. Taylor brushed her hair smooth, then caught it back in an attractive banana clip.

  Beginning an exploration of the enormous house, she began walking down the hall again, glancing into rooms as she passed. Each of the seven doors held a bedroom with adjoining bath, all luxuriously furnished in an individual color scheme and style. Once downstairs, she passed through the foyer and headed in the opposite direction from the living room.

  Opening the first door she came to, she found a library. It was paneled in dark, knotty wood, with conservative Spanish furniture and two huge high-backed leather chairs. Between them stood an end table with a gilded brass lamp upon it. A large wood desk took up one corner of the room with two small chairs across from it. Heavy brass desk accessories—a hand-carved letter opener, penholder, and other items—sat upon its perfectly clean top.

  Three massive sets of shelves, floor to ceiling, were filled with epic novels and best sellers, but one large bookcase held volumes of law books. Taylor’s eyes scanned the handsomely bound covers, amazed. Her father had an ample law library of his own from his practice years ago, but this collection was truly remarkable. They looked a little worn, as though an unknown hand had repeatedly turned the pages, and that puzzled her. She couldn’t imagine Robert Cabrera, successful cattleman, sitting up at night reading monotonous federal statues and case law from other countries, especially the States. Yet, who else in this house would take such an avid interest in these volumes?

  She passed through another door at the back of the room and found what appeared to be the den, then another door led into the kitchen. She made herself a light lunch of fruit and cheese and wrapped it securely to take on her outing, then remembered her black split-neck tunic she wanted to wear for dinner later. She went back upstairs to get it along with a few other items of laundry to start while she was gone. Gathering the items into a bath towel, she returned to the kitchen to ask Maria to direct her to the utility room.

  Looking around, the kitchen was as empty as she had left it. Then she noticed another door she hadn’t seen before. Tucked in the corner, it had a heavy bolt lock installed in its large, solid cherry wood door.

  This must be the basement, where the laundry facilities are, she decided. Tucking the bundle of clothes under her arm, she went over to it and tried it.

  It was locked.

  Her brows creased. Why was the door locked? She had explored the entire first and second floors of the house, and there was no laundry room anywhere. A washer and dryer would surely be located in the basement. Then she noticed a narrow, wooden stairway that led up from the kitchen to an unknown part of the house. She went up a couple of steps and peered upward, but the area was dark.

  “Señorita?”

  Taylor jumped and whirled around. It was Maria. The woman obviously had a habit of moving about so silently that she could turn up at any time, literally right next to someone.

  “Maria, do you speak English?” Taylor asked her.

  She obviously understood the question, for the woman waved the palm of her hand up and down, in the universal sign of uncertainty.

  “Little,” she said, beginning to smile. “Little Inglés.”

  Taylor pointed to the steps. “What is up there?” she asked. “Upstairs?”

  Maria smiled more broadly now and pointed in the same direction.

  “For me and—” she tried to speak. She placed her hands together and put them against her cheek. “Sleep.”

  The staff quarters, of course, Taylor thought. She walked over to the locked door and tried it again.

  She pointed to her clothes and swirled her finger around to demonstrate the motion of an agitating washer. “What is in here? Washing machine?”

  Suddenly the old woman’s demeanor changed. She froze and her face paled, as if her breath were cut off. Then she quickly rushed to the closed door, practically pushing Taylor away from it.

  “No, no!” she cried, visibly trembling with fright. “You no go there, Señorita! You no touch!”

  “What is behind this door, Maria?” Taylor persisted. Perhaps the woman misunderstood her question. She was taken back by her sudden change in attitude. The woman seemed afraid, almost terrified. Now she was more curious than ever about the locked door.

  “Nada, de nada!” the woman shrilled, reverting to Spanish. She grabbed the clothes from Taylor. Then she clutched her arm and her voice became almost pleading. “Go home, Señorita. Go home!”

  “Maria—”

  “You go, go outside, outside!” she said, shooing Taylor away like a stray cat, nudging her toward the back door.

  Taylor sighed and went out the door. As she walked down the path toward the stables, she glanced back to see Maria watching her intently, as if willing her to go as far away from the kitchen as possible. She kept walking, but Taylor felt Maria’s eyes on her every step of the way.

  In the corral, Carlos Gonzalez was grooming a horse. He stopped momentarily when he saw Taylor approach. She waved at him in greeting, but he merely nodded politely and turned back to what he was doing.

  He still didn’t welcome her, but she had no idea why. She remembered his unflattering remark about Americans riding horses. Could his animosity be due to her nationality, as Robert said?

  She spent the next two hours strolling the grounds on foot, taking in the brilliant morning sunshine and breathtaking scenery. She circled around the house, discovering an enormous swimming pool that decked the south side. Next to the pool, she found a small cabana, a sauna, and a hot tub.

  Near the pool, area was a four-car garage. She walked up to one of the garage door windows and peeked in.

  A gorgeous Aston Martin and an Infinity sat neatly in separate stalls. Her Ford wasn’t among them.

  Taylor tried all four doors, but they were locked tight.

  A strange flutter began to move through her stomach.

  Where was her car?

  Perhaps there was another garage or carport for guests, although so far, she hadn’t found it. Taylor made a mental note to ask Robert about it as soon as he returned.

  She walked back down to the stables.
Carlos was nowhere in sight, but another stable boy quickly prepared Bonita for her. Mounting atop the high-pommeled saddle, Taylor cantered the horse out of the stable and down over the green turf of the valley. The warm breeze in her face and the fresh air felt wonderful. She explored the surrounding pastures and plains, ambling Bonita through smaller woods that skirted the highway she drove in from.

  The sun was setting by the time she took Bonita back to the stable. She walked into the kitchen to find it empty. She went to the refrigerator and found a plate of food on one of the china plates, covered and ready for reheating. Probably for me, Taylor figured. Maria must be in her quarters for the night.

  She started for the stairs to her room to change when something caught her eye.

  It was the basement door. Only now it was slightly ajar, a set of keys dangling from the bolt lock above the doorknob. Taylor saw a flight of steps descend into a dimly lit void. Suddenly Taylor heard a noise from the room below.

  Someone was down in the cellar.

  The open door beckoned her and, curious, she pulled it open wider to allow herself in. Sounds came from the dim interior—a door opening, objects being moved about.

  She descended the steps quietly until she reached the bottom and turned the corner, fully expecting to see a washer and dryer station with her clothes in a pile, waiting to be done.

  There was no washer or dryer in the room, or anything else, for that matter. The room was large but nearly vacant. A few old storage trunks and a huge hot water heater took up one corner. Several old chairs and a broken table were piled up haphazardly against another wall. The air smelled old and stifling. The entire area was cold and damp, and lighting was dim.

  Suddenly the houseboy appeared, where he just emerged from another room at the far end of the cellar. His back was turned to her as he shut the door. In his hands, he carried an empty plastic bowl, one of the ceramic coffee cups she had seen on the counter in the kitchen, and a key.