“We’ll wait for the sheriff’s deputies. They’ll be coming from Grants.”
“But . . .”
“He’s dead, Ms. Whyte,” Niall said. “He won’t care one way or the other.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I took a long, steamy bath, complete with soothing aromatherapy oils and three fingers of bourbon on the rocks, courtesy of Niall. It helped all of me, even the throb in my jaw where the guy had punched me. It took almost two hours, but I finally felt clean. My shaky legs managed to get me out of the claw-foot tub, whereupon I melted to the plush bath rug laid on the floor.
The tub drained with slurps and sloshes, and I rested my cheek on the roll-tub edge and closed my eyes. I was alive. I. Was. Alive.
I yipped at a knock on the door.
“You okay in there, Ms. Whyte?”
“Oh, uh. Yes. I guess I fell asleep.” I was freezing, too, sprawled on the bathroom floor, half on, half off the matt. My God, I was a mess.
“Good bourbon’ll do that.”
“You’re so right. I’ll be out in a sec.” I hoisted myself up. At the sink, after I got over the sight of my black-and-blue and swollen face, I began smearing on the antibacterial cream Niall had left for me. At least now I could get a good look at that pot on the mantel.
“Someone’s here to see you,” he called through the door.
My heart stuttered. Maybe Hank. That would be wonderful. I was an idiot to leave him. “Who’s that?”
“The deputy sheriff.”
I peered down the stairs at the leathery woman who stood waiting in the front hall, thumbs hooked to her Sam Browne belt, one cowboy-booted foot tapping.
“Hello,” I said as I walked down the stairs.
She didn’t smile, but gestured me into the small library at the back of the lodge.
She wore a brown pant suit over her boots, which were polished, but well-used. She’d traveled a lot of miles, I suspected. She’d bitten her nails to the quick. She’d tied her straight brown hair in a ponytail, but her bangs softened her face. She didn’t look like someone who smiled easily.
The minute I sat across from her, she pulled a small silver recorder from her pocket, pressed it on, and sat it on the table. The officer noted the date and the time. Niall sat across from us in a chair, but she shooed him away.
“I’m done with you, friend,” she said.
“C’mon, Louise,” Niall said.
She shook her head. “No. I want to talk to this lady alone. Now go.”
“Be careful,” he said to me as he left. “She looks all warm and fuzzy. She’s not.”
I didn’t think Louise looked warm and fuzzy in the least.
“You’re a problem,” Louise said. “One I wish I hadn’t encountered.”
“Okay,” I said. I had no idea what to make of her words.
“There’s a BOLO out for you.”
“Why should the cops be on the lookout for me?” I shrugged. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“We got a guy in the backyard here dead.”
Now was exactly the time I wished I still smoked. “He tried to kill me.”
“So you say.”
I sat up straighter and winced. “Yes, I do say. Just ask Niall and the others who came to help me.”
She flicked a speck off her pants. It felt like a dismissal.
“Since arriving in your fair state,” I said, “I have not had a pleasant time. Now you’re implying that Mr. Creepola wasn’t attacking me. Lemme tell you, lady, I almost died amidst the piñon pine out there.”
“Yeah, I guess.” She flipped open a slim notebook. “Says here you came to New Mexico for a job interview in Albuquerque. I also got that the car you rented at the airport was found bashed in and burned. That true?”
I hadn’t thought of it that way. “Well, yes, actually, but—”
“That in Gallup, you were involved in a gunfight between an unknown assailant and a Mass. State Police detective. And that you abandoned the detective during the gunfight. That true, too?”
Put that way, it sounded pretty grim. “Um, in one sense—” Thank heavens she didn’t know my real reason for being there.
She flipped a page. “I got one other thing before the, ah, ‘incident’ here. Says you believe that your friend’s skull was found in some old Anasazi pot and that another friend of yours got her throat cut over the same pot. That true, too?”
I really didn’t know how to answer without sounding like a crazy person. So I said nothing. I folded my hands on my lap.
She leaned forward, one hand pressed to her knee. “You know what I think? I think you’re trouble. I think you’re crazy, and that we’ll be glad to see your back. So you know what I’m going to do? I’m going to drive you to Albuquerque, and I’m going to watch while you get on a plane that’s nonstop to Boston. And I’m going to let them handle it. You see?”
I saw, all right, but I refused to be railroaded out of New Mexico.
Her phone bleeped, and she turned away from me to take the call. Not native, not Anglo, but seemingly both. She might be Hispanic. I wondered if she had trouble fitting in at all. I told myself to focus.
Why try to make me leave? Not that anyone really could, but . . . Someone from back home? Massachusetts’s medical examiner had a long reach. Maybe Addy wanted me out of here. I could see Veda doing that, but Addy?
The situation was weird and confusing, made stranger by the deputy having so much information about me and my doings.
The deputy turned back to me. “Why don’t you go up and pack. Get ready to go.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said.
“Sure you are.” She smiled. “Niall?”
The lodge manager appeared at the door. “You rang, babe?”
“You’re full up, right?”
His brows beetled. “Full up? Now? You crazy?”
She notched her chin. “Sure you are.”
He looked from her to me and back again. “I, uh, I guess I am.”
“What?” I said.
The deputy smirked. “Like I said, I’ll give you a lift.”
“Just like a little sheep,” I said. “That’s swell, but I have to make a plane reservation. I also need to crash. How about first thing in the morning?”
She looked from me to her notebook to me again. “I guess I can do that.” She slapped her knees and stood.
I’d leave before she came back in the A.M.
The deputy walked over to Niall and gave him a soft punch in the belly. “I don’t feel like drivin’ all the way back to Grants. You can put me up, right?”
“Sure, Louise!” He wouldn’t look me in the eye. “Sure I can.”
“I’ll just get my kit.” She saluted me and walked outside to her cruiser.
Upstairs, I tossed the few things I had into a bag, then sat on the bed. I was screwed. Of course, I had no intention of flying out, and I sure didn’t like the prospect of traveling to Albuquerque with a woman who obviously despised me.
What if the bad guys, whoever they were, had sent her? She could easily do me in on the way. Plenty of barren stretches, from what I imagined.
But that made no sense. Niall knew her.
How did she learn so much about me?
Sounds in the driveway drew me to the window. A black, dust-covered panel truck pulled up, and out piled four guys in jeans and cowboy hats. They carried ropes and a stretcher, and I assumed they were here to take my attacker to the ME’s office in Albuquerque. One of them carried a CSS kit and another a camera. I suspected two were just for the heavy lifting, as the guy had died in a fairly inaccessible place.
Who was he? Maybe I was wrong about him trying to kill me. Maybe rape and assault were his agenda. But he was just a flunky. I was sure of it.
But for who, dammit? For who?
I made a list of possibles, or rather, I tried to. All I did was stare at a white sheet of lodge notepaper. I showered, lathering my hair with Prell, the shampoo I’d used as
a kid. Funny, the passage of time and how I could be right back there when my dad was alive, when Carmen and I had played with our buddies on the beach at Echo Lake.
I lay down on the bed.
The thump of a woodpecker awakened me. But when I opened my eyes, I realized the tapping was at the door. “Yes?” I said.
“Dinner, Ms. Whyte,” came the call.
My “okay,” came out like I had a bag of marbles in my mouth. “Coming!” I danced my fingers across my cheek. Yikes. I skittered by the mirror, only glimpsing my balloon cheek, as I left the room. I’d seen enough, though.
My right cheek was swollen and black and blue, and I looked like a chipmunk. When I pressed it, it ached. On my left cheek, I wore a pink, scabby line where the man on the Vineyard had knifed me. Two different men, but from the same source. I’d certainly pissed off someone. Seemed like they wanted me bad.
I walked downstairs, my hand tight around the banister. I was a fricking wreck. But each day I’d get better, and I had no intention of spending a single night at the lodge.
Three A.M. by Hank’s watch on my wrist. I slipped out the lodge’s side entrance. The moon was full. I hadn’t realized how much light could be in the sky. Cripes. It was practically daylight. I sure wasn’t being particularly clever. I didn’t know how to be clever when I was out in the middle of nowhere with a deputy on my ass. I had to take the rental car, since I sure as hell couldn’t walk out.
I zipped up the fuzzy jacket loaned to me by Niall. The temperature had plummeted, and I saw my breath mist the night air. Had to be below freezing. I wished I had a fuzzy hat instead of my ball cap. My wet hair was becoming crunchy in the cold.
The earth crunched, too, as I stepped on pine needles and dirt. Oh, golly gee—what other noise could I make?
I unzipped the jacket’s pocket, felt the car keys. Whooeee, it was cold. I kept my back planted to the wall of the lodge. I was almost to the corner. I peeked around. There was my rental.
As I ran up to the car, I slipped the keys from my pocket. I unlocked the car with the key, not the beeper, and slid into the driver’s seat. Almost there. I whooshed out a breath, watched it fog the night air.
I slid the key into the ignition and turned it.
Nothing happened.
I tried again. Hell. The engine didn’t even try to turn over. What was the deal?
I felt around with my hand, then snapped on the light to make sure I hadn’t imagined what I’d just felt.
Oh crap. A bunch of multicolored wires hung in a tangle below the steering column. They’d been cut or pulled or whatever. All I knew was the car wouldn’t start.
Louise had checked me.
Well, dammit, I’d been through too much. It wasn’t checkmate. Not by a long shot.
One night in the woods wouldn’t kill me. After that, I could hike out, get a lift, and no one would be the wiser.
I ran a ways up the dirt road, then searched for a low-hanging pine branch. I found one just a few yards into the woods. I tugged like mad, but couldn’t get it off the tree. I turned a circle and finally found a weenie-looking little thing that might work. Again, I tugged, fell on my butt with the thing, and ran back to the road. I dropped one of my precious socks. Oh, well. Then I did like I’d seen in the movies and brushed back and forth with the pine-needled branch as I backed off the road.
I carried the branch into the woods and left it. In the moonlight, I could see fairly well. The wood was a place of silver-gray shadows that flowed into night. Cripes, it was cold. I did a little dance. The luminous dial on my watch read three-thirty. I walked farther from the road and downhill, closer to the lodge and farther from the sock.
A dog like Penny could find me. But I wasn’t a fugitive or a lost child. Given the expense, I doubted they’d bring in the scent dogs. I guessed I had three hours, before they’d awaken and that crazed deputy would come hunting for me. If she bought the note I’d left about hitching back to Gallup, things would be a lot easier.
Once the deputy’s hunt was headed for Gallup, I’d hike to the main road, hitch a ride, and be off to Chaco. I’d return the jacket by mail. Niall had my credit card number, so I wasn’t leaving him holding the bag. It felt like I had every contingency worked out.
In fact, this was a better plan, given that someone had followed me to the lodge. This way, I’d leave no trail.
I found a large clump of pine, lay the blanket I’d taken on the ground and sat. Brrr. Oh, yeah, cold. But I could stand it for a few hours. Sure I could.
I wished I knew where Hank was and that he was okay. I believed he was, but I wouldn’t call him until I got to Chaco. If I called earlier, he’d insist I go back to Boston. And then I’d be right where I started.
In three days, I was due for another rabies shot. Lucky me. But I could get to Chaco in the morning, look around, see if I could find something before I called in the troops.
Okay, if I was honest, I had no clue about what I was doing. All I knew was I had to get to Chaco Canyon and fast.
Fingers of cold morning light awakened me. I checked my appendages. They all seemed to move, but with pain. The bod had definitely taken a beating yesterday.
I took a minute to listen to the busy birds and the forest sounds. Nice. Comforting. The breeze was chill on my cheek, and it felt good. I could stay here for a while, wrapped in my blanket, cocooned in the safety of the woods.
It was definitely time to go.
On the way back to the lodge, I checked Hank’s watch. Seven-thirty. Damn. I’d slept later than planned. As I walked in the woods—hating every time my foot made a crunching sound—I paralleled the road. I also listened for anything out of the ordinary. The place was silent. Oddly so.
I finally stopped across from the parking lot, still in the comfort of the woods. Disturbing. Where the hell were all the cars, Niall’s truck? Where was my rental? The cop car?
Everybody would not have left the lodge en masse.
I started to run, skidded to a halt. A trap. Sure. The deputy had hidden all the vehicles, so I’d think they were gone. Of course.
Except as I peered out from the edge of the woods, I could see everywhere. And I saw nothing. I walked onto the driveway and looked up the road. Since the lodge was on the side of a mountain, I could see pretty far down. Trees clacking in the wind, pines swaying, birds chirping. I even heard the skitter of small animals, and the plane that buzzed overhead.
What I didn’t hear were humans.
I sat on the bench beside the lodge, wary of going inside, where, I was sure, the trap would be sprung. I had no car. No way out of there. At least, none occurred to me.
Screw it. I was always one to bring the inevitable closer.
As quietly as possible, I pulled open the screen door. I reached for the knob to the entrance to the lodge that would lead me into the back of the place, by the kitchen and laundry.
That was when I noticed a smear that looked way too much like dried blood.
I stilled my hand. Damn and double damn.
For all I knew, the red smear was raspberry jam.
Except I’d bet it wasn’t.
It could have been from me, yesterday, or from my attacker or any number of things.
Like I believed that. Sure.
This cat-and-mouse had gotten awfully serious awfully quickly. I’d been playing a stupid game, but maybe not. Maybe not at all.
I piled my hair up in a bundle and slipped on my ball cap. I leaned over to put my gear and the blanket beside the house.
Someone was watching me.
I pivoted around. All I saw was the parking area and scrub brush and empty space. Talk about the jitters.
I looked in the kitchen window. The room was empty. I moved across the back of the house, looked in another window.
The spare room. Niall said he sometimes used the room for overflow. The door to the back hall was closed, so if I . . .
I stood on tiptoe and pushed against the window. It flew up, and I tumbled back
ward. The body-beating thing was getting tiresome. I struggled up, braced my hands on the sill, and climbed in. I left the window open.
The whole procedure felt bizarrely familiar. I vowed that this was the last time I’d climb in a window. Period.
The lodge remained quiet. No voices, no sounds of any kind. I walked to the spare room door, cracked it, and peeked into the hall. Empty.
It wasn’t that this was so easy, but rather that it felt pointless. Maybe they’d all caravanned back to town for the local movie or something.
I padded out of the room and down the hall. I stood still, and that’s when I heard an odd snuffling. I tilted my head. Where was it coming from? The library? Maybe. I peeked in. Cripes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A wicker end table lay on its side, a mug of coffee spilled across the carpet. Not what I wanted to see. Nothing else looked out of place as I skimmed the bookshelves and phone table and pine desk.
And there. That snuffling sound again. I licked my lips. Nerves. Something bad was going on. I slid my pepper spray from my pocket. An old friend, for sure.
I walked down the long, pine-boarded hall. The lights were out, and as I moved forward, the windowless space grew darker. I came to carpet. Just ahead was the front door. On my left, the front parlor the lodge used as a dining room. On my right, the other parlor, the living room. I was afraid I’d make a mistake, go the wrong way.
I looked up the stairs. A book lay half open in the middle of one stair. Not reassuring.
I moved to my right, the living room. I pressed against the wall that framed the archway and inched toward the opening. The snuffling sounded like someone . . . drowning. I couldn’t see much, not really, but a dark stain that hadn’t been there yesterday marked the carpet. My hand tightened around the pepper spray, and I crouched as I entered the room.
The smell was terrible. My stomach lurched. Oh, boy. Feces, urine, and blood. Death’s cocktail. I slipped down onto my hands and knees, crawled around the blotch that I now saw was congealed blood. Lots of it.
Something bad had gone down there. Really bad.
I inched around a chair. The snuffling grew louder, and I saw the source.
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