by Conn, Phoebe
"I'm not such a good man," he argued absendy. "I just never had much in the way of family, so maybe losing what litde I had hit me harder than it would have most people."
They had exchanged very litde information about their families, but Aubrey was definitely curious enough to prompt him to continue. "You mentioned that your father and Edith weren't close."
"My dad wasn't close to anyone," Jesse admitted darkly,
"unless a bottle of booze qualifies as a best friend. People are a lot more aware of what's going on now than when I was a kid, but back then, my dad was simply a drunk, and my mother martyred herself keeping it a secret."
Aubrey had seen that same deeply suspicious expression on Jesse's face at their first seminar. She could only imagine how unhappy his home life had been, and no child raised with that kind of misery and shame was likely to survive it without scars. She knew just how badly he would react to pity, and strove to keep it out of her voice.
"Where were you while all this was going on, just out riding and making up the adventures you told us about?"
"Yeah, you could say that. Until his heart gave out, my father had a constitution of iron. He never missed a day of work in the copper mines, nor a night of drinking until he passed out in his chair. When I was little, my mother actually told me that he was having back trouble, and found sleeping in his easy chair more comfortable than the bed. I couldn't have been older than four or five, but even then I knew she was lying. It can't be good for a kid that young to see his father as a drunk and his mother as a liar."
"No, definitely not, but I think it's common in alcoholi families."
Sorry he had shared such a pathetic tale, Jesse straightened up. "I've made it all right on my own, but I do want my aunt to finally have some peace. Let's hope we can give it to her today."
Jesse may have effectively closed the door on his past, but he had just explained a great deal to Aubrey without realizing it. He did not associate a home and family with love and security as she did, but that did not mean he could not learn to accept them as his right. Thinking things might not be as impossible as she had feared, she hugged Lucky and began to enjoy the passing countryside.
Irrigated with well water, wide alfalfa fields blanketed
g
the desert land with green, and had their errand not been such a sad one, Aubrey would have found the agricultural setting a relaxing one. Willows and cottonwoods lined the farms, but as they neared the city, the landscape gradually changed to the familiar one of gas stations and convenience stores. Aubrey never ate fast food, but when Jesse pulled into his favorite place for hamburgers, she felt safe in having a chocolate milkshake.
After eating, they replenished their supply of bottled water, fed and walked Lucky, then passed on through Bars-tow, and continued northeast toward the Devil's Playground. Aubrey could not help but wonder if Harlan Caine had chosen the site for its evocative name, or simply because it was remote. They had to drive the better part of an hour before the first sign naming the area appeared.
Jesse pulled off onto the shoulder of the highway, and he and Aubrey consulted the makeshift map. "Other than to put us in the general area, this map is absolutely useless,'' he complained.
"Let's scout around a bit," Aubrey suggested. She had worn tennis shoes with Levi's and a T-shirt, and after such a long drive was ready to get out and explore. "The soil is too sandy for Caine to have driven off the road, so the bodies can't be very far away."
"It's been two years. I doubt Lucky can catch any scents, but let's give him a try before we resort to conjuring up Indians."
"That's fine with me," Aubrey agreed, but she handed Jesse Lucky's leash to hold and wandered around on her own. The sand sparkled exacdy as it had in her dream, but there were no trails through the wind-sculpted dunes. She closed her eyes and tried to recall how the scene had looked from above when the Indian had carried her aloft, but envisioned no more than a golden haze.
She glanced back toward the highway, and was relieved
to find she had not wandered far. Jesse and Lucky were off to her right, and feeling safe, she closed her eyes. "Come to me, Indian," she begged. "Show me where they are." She had the ridiculous notion she ought to offer a bribe of some sort, but was positive spirits would have no need of Earthly treasures.
A divining rod was a tool for locating water, but she had never heard of anyone using a similar device to discover bodies. She stood still while a warm breeze caressed her face and strove to hush such distracting thoughts. If the Ferrells' bodies were closeby, surely they would be calling out to her just as they had heard Marlene's heartbreaking wail in their garage.
"Call to me," she whispered. "Tell me where you are."
As she waited, the noise from passing traffic blurred to a dull hum but no ghostly voices interrupted her inner silence. Frustrated by her lack of success, she trudged through the sand to where Jesse stood gazing out across the dunes. Lucky was sniffing the ground in lazy circles, but clearly had not caught a scent.
"We should have brought a bloodhound," Aubrey complained. "I drew a blank. Can you sense anything?"
Jesse dropped his arm around Aubrey's shoulders and gave her a quick hug. "Not yet. I didn't realize what a vast area this would be. Let's walk parallel to the highway, and keep moving in. If we don't come across a scrap of fabric, or any other clue today, we can go back to Barstow, buy toothbrushes, and spend the night in a motel. The sand looks as though it's always drifting here, and maybe what we don't find today, we'll be able to discover tomorrow."
"A metal detector might not be a bad thing to have," Aubrey suggested.
"Come on, let's see what we can sense on our own. Let's go in separate directions, and then meet in the center before we walk a new area."
Aubrey believed their task a thousand times more difficult than finding a needle in a haystack, but she was not ready to give up without making a determined try. "Fine." She turned away, and started back the way she had come. Moving slowly, she held her arms away from her sides and hoped the Ferrells' restless spirits would guide her to their graves.
The sun was high overhead, and she was getting thirsty, but she pushed herself up and over the first dune in her path, and on to the next. She wondered how much Pete Ferrell had weighed, and how far Caine and Gilroy could possibly have carried him. Surely there had been a limit to their endurance, but late at night, they could have stopped anywhere along the highway to dispose of the grim evidence of their crime.
She stood still for a moment before turning back, but the only sensations to reach her were the waves of heat radiating off the sand. Thinking perhaps she and Jesse had made a mistake in separating, she paused to wipe her sunglasses on the hem of her T-shirt before turning back. But as she donned them and looked up, she was shocked to find Harlan Caine no more than three paces behind her. He was holding an automatic pistol that fit easily in his hand, but it appeared enormous to her. She lifted her gaze to his, but there was no fear in his eyes, only an expression of fierce loathing.
"Gilroy played a nasty trick on us both," Caine murmured softly. "Only he gave you a map and a head start before calling me." He moved toward her over the sand. "I do believe he expected an old-fashioned showdown where you'd kill me, but that's just not going to happen. The sands here have probably swallowed bodies by the score, and a couple more won't make a bump on the horizon."
He gestured with his weapon. "Now you're going to go
back the way you came, but stop just below the crest of the second dune. Yell to Jesse that you've found something, but don't even hint at what."
"You'll never get away with this," Aubrey warned in a desperate attempt to stall for time.
Caine laughed at her threat. "My dear, I mastered getting away with murder years ago. Getting rid of you two won't even pose a challenge."
"Wait a minute. If Gilroy telephoned us both, what makes you think he didn't call the police, as well?" Aubrey placed her hands on her hips, planted her feet fi
rmly in the sand, and shouted for Jesse in her mind. If he were listening as closely for the Ferrells' cries as she had been, she felt certain he would hear her and come running.
Caine took another step closer. "Gilroy would never telephone the police. Now I realize this has to be a disappointing way for your afternoon to end, but it's inevitable. Now start moving, or I'm going to cause you some excruciating pain."
He raised the pistol as though he meant to strike her a bruising blow, but Aubrey stood her ground. She again screamed for Jesse in her mind, and began to smile. "You are a lying coward, and this is the last day you'll ever walk the Earth free."
Thinking Aubrey must have a reason for such an outrageous display of courage, Harlan Caine quickly glanced over his shoulder, but the dune at his back blocked his view. Positive no rescue could possibly be imminent, he simply changed his plan and took careful aim. "Good-bye, Ms. Glenn. Do give the Ferrells my regards."
Aubrey saw him slowly begin to squeeze the trigger, but a wild war whoop rang in her mind, and her smile didn't waver.
Jesse's strength had been honed on a lifetime of hard work, and he used every muscle to its full advantage. He had never lost a fistfight in years of scrapping behind honky-tonk bars, and each punch he threw was brutal. He repeatedly yanked Harlan to his feet for the sheer joy of knocking him right back down, and when the developer was too dizzy to stand, Jesse drew a razor-sharp knife from his boot.
Standing over Harlan, he spoke clearly so he could not possibly be misunderstood. "Pete Ferrell was my cousin, and I loved Marlene and the boys. Now I would just as soon gut you right here and leave you screaming your head off while you bleed to death in the sand, but I owe my relatives a Christian burial. I'll give you a single chance to tell us where you left their bodies. If they're not there, I'm going to cut you to ribbons."
Aubrey prayed Jesse's ghastly threat had been made solely for effect, but when Harlan Caine tried to scramble away with a slip-sliding sideways crawl, it was plain he believed every word. The breeze had picked up, and the air was filling with fine grit, but she knew the men could still see her clearly.
She leveled the pistol at Harlan. "He'll never tell us anything, Jesse. Let me shoot him now. I'll start with his knees."
Jesse's rage was barely under control, but he knew Aubrey to be far too sweet and gentle a woman to actually fire at the man. Liking her spirit, he greeted her ruse with a savage grin. "Yeah. I like that. It won't equal the pain he caused the Ferrells, but it will at least be a start."
Aubrey was careful to stay out of Harlan's reach as she aimed for his crotch. "Then again, there are other places where a man's even more vulnerable."
"No!" Harlan screamed, and he covered himself with his hands. Blood was streaming down his face from a bro-
ken nose and deep cut above his right eye. "You've got the wrong man. Gilroy's to blame. Not me. I just told him to rough up Pete, to discourage him from talking to other investors. Next thing I knew, the Ferrells were all dead and Gilroy was begging me to help him hide their bodies.
"He was acting crazy and I didn't dare refuse. It was dark and I was so afraid we were going to get caught, I sure as hell didn't stick around to plant markers."
Jesse leaned close and drew the tip of his knife across Harlan's cheek. With just a slight increase in pressure, he would draw blood, and he was ready to do it. "You're forgetting that we've met Gilroy, and he's just a big, dumb jerk who's probably not had an original thought his whole life. No jury is ever going to believe he was the brains of your outfit."
Buffeted by a sudden gust of wind, Jesse felt the sand shifting beneath his feet Not wanting to risk staying out in what could quickly become a blinding sandstorm, he took the pistol from Aubrey, then slid his knife back into his boot. "Come on, we're going back to my truck to call the Highway Patrol on my radio. If you're real lucky, you'll have found the bodies before they arrive. If not, then they'll have to take you away in a body bag." He nodded in the direction of the highway. "Get moving."
Hurting badly, Harlan had a difficult time just getting to his feet. Walking through the sand was torture. After a few wobbling paces, he stumbled and fell to his knees, but Jesse dragged him upright and shoved him along. They had not strayed far from the highway, but made slow progress back to the truck.
"Where's your car?" Aubrey asked the battered developer.
Harlan's eyes were nearly swollen shut, and sore and stiff, he had to turn his whole body to glance up and
down the road, but clearly he did not like what he saw. "I walked," he mumbled.
"Like hell," Jesse laughed. "I'll bet you drove out here with Rachel McClure and the instant she saw the sand flying she took off, which is exacdy what you deserve/* He reached inside the Chevy, and using his CB radio, requested the Highway Patrol's assistance. "You have five minutes, maybe ten before they arrive. Now where are the bodies?"
Harlan spit out a mouthful of blood, then sent a pleading glance toward a gleaming tractor-trailer rig coming their way. For a split-second, Jesse thought Harlan might throw himself in front of it, and he grabbed his arm to pull him around behind the Chevy. "I want you back here away from the traffic. There will be no easy way out for you."
Harlan responded with a rasping laugh. "You've no witness who'll testify, and no evidence. Do you really think I'd commit suicide just for spite?"
"You're forgetting something, Mr. Caine," Aubrey quickly reminded him. "You threatened my life, and had Jesse and Lucky not come to my rescue, I've no doubt that you would have shot me. A charge of attempted murder will keep you behind bars long enough for us to discover the Ferrells' remains and tie you to their deaths."
Leaning against the truck, Harlan settled down into a tough slouch. "I followed you out here merely to counter Gilroy's lies. I just waved the gun to frighten you. I'd never have shot you, and I have every intention of charging both of you with assault. As for that vicious dog of yours, I'll see he's put down."
Aubrey was astonished by Harlan Caine's gall. "Is there another big truck coming?" she asked Jesse. "I'll be happy to help you toss this vermin under its wheels."
His bravado fading, Harlan pressed himself back against
the Chevy's fender. "You wouldn't dare," he whispered shakily.
"Hell, I'd scrape your carcass off the road and do it twice," Jesse assured him. The wind kicked up again and the cars and trucks passing by were traveling at increased speeds to get past the Devil's Playground before the flying grit ground off most of their paint. Jesse reached for the door handle. "Aubrey, you and Lucky get in the truck. There's no reason for all of us to stand out here in the wind."
Aubrey welcomed Jesse's suggestion, but Harlan was regarding them both with a bitter loathing that prompted her to issue one last threat as she moved by him. "We lied to you, Caine. I am psychic, and now that we have the general location where the Ferrells are buried, I'll be able to pinpoint the grave within hours. Criminals always believe themselves to be clever, but that doesn't mean they're smart. I'll bet you shot Pete and Marlene with the same gun Jesse's holding, and—"
Suddenly erupting in a furious cursing fit, Harlan shoved Aubrey into Jesse, and before he could catch her, she tripped over Lucky's leash and fell hard. With Jesse distracted picking up Aubrey, Harlan raced around the Chevy to the driver's side. When he found it locked, he released a frustrated shriek, but at that instant Rachel McClure pulled up in his Seville on the opposite side of the highway and honked the horn.
The wind was really blowing now, dampening the piercing wail of approaching sirens. The swirling sand turned the sun a dusty orange and blurred Harlan's vision, but with Jesse rounding the truck, he did not pause to look for oncoming traffic before stumbling out onto the highway. He made it across the first lane safely, but not the second.
Aubrey clamped her hands over her ears to shut out the
sickening thump, but it echoed in her mind. Accompanied by the wrenching squeal of brakes, the horrible accident gained momentum as car a
fter car swung wide to avoid the crumpled body lying in the road. With the burgeoning sandstorm obscuring everyone's vision, near-misses were frequent, but the Highway Patrol arrived on the scene and slowed traffic before another tragedy occurred.
Unable to offer the authorities more than basic background information, Jesse helped Aubrey into his truck, tucked Harlan's pistol behind his seat for safekeeping, and then held her close. Fascinated by the flashing lights on the patrol cars, Lucky sat up and rested his paws on the dashboard to watch. Aubrey searched Jesse's expression, but saw only the same sorrow mirrored there that shadowec her own.
"Oh, my God," she moaned. "If any man ever deserved to die horribly it was Harlan Caine, but I didn't mean to scare him into running out onto the highway."
Jesse slid his hands to her shoulders. "Listen to me. He went wild when you mentioned the gun, which has to mean you were right about it. If Rachel hadn't shown up on the wrong side of the highway, he wouldn't have dashed out into the traffic. It was plain he expected to see her when we marched him out here to the truck. She must have been parked nearby. Maybe she heard the shot he fired, got scared, and drove off.
"Something must have prompted her to come back. You asked if I believed in fate. I think Harlan created his own disastrous death, and today it finally caught up with him. We'll have to give the Highway Patrol a statement, but as soon as the wind dies down, I hope you'll feel up to making another try at finding the graves. Let's stay together this time, and maybe we'll have better luck."
Hearing what sounded like his name, Lucky turned toward Jesse. Aubrey reached out to hug the dog. "I didn't