Coyote's Revenge

by Vannetta Chapman

  They worked in silence for the better part of an hour, then stopped and went down for water. Aiden poured a cup over the back of his neck and finally looked his brother directly in the eye.

  “I appreciate the help,” Aiden said. “But I’d rather do this alone.”

  “I know you would.”

  “So why are you still here?”

  “Because I need to know what’s wrong.”

  Aiden put the baseball cap back on his head and guzzled another cup of water.

  “Pretty simple. Madison gave me the friend speech.”

  “A woman turned you down.”

  “You don’t have to look so pleased about it.”

  “More surprised than pleased. In fact, I don’t remember a woman ever turning you down, but then you maintained that farce with Sharon for such a long time they didn’t really have a chance.”

  Aiden walked toward Nate’s truck.

  “Figured that one out did you?”

  “She’s been showing up with Bix around town. It’s kind of obvious how much they’re into each other.”

  “Sharon’s a good friend. Our arrangement worked well for both of us.”

  “Then Madison came along.”

  “Yeah, Madison came along.”

  Nate pulled his keys from his pocket, but he still didn’t open the door to the truck. “So why did Madison give you the friend speech?”

  “She can’t handle my absences. She worries.”

  “We all worry, Aiden. Why do you do it? Where do you go?” The familiar note of irritation crept into Nate’s voice. “I don’t understand. You’re responsible in every other way.”

  “I’ll tell you what I told Madison. You’re going to have to trust me.”

  Nate shook his head and climbed into the truck. “That’s not too much to ask of your family, but it’s a lot to ask of a woman.”

  “I know it is.”

  “Maybe she’s not the one then.”

  Aiden didn’t bother to reply. Instead he turned and walked away, back to the barn. He climbed the ladder slowly as he listened to Nate’s truck pull onto the county road. Looking out over their pastures, past them to the mountains rising in the distance, he thought of how he and Nate had grown up on this land. He picked up the crowbar and continued pulling rotten boards in the heat of a Saturday midmorning, rebuilding the playground of their childhood, and wishing he could rebuild his life instead.

  MADISON ARRIVED EARLY at the café, and requested a table at the back where she could watch the door. Just like she’d been taught in every Nelson DeMille book she’d ever read. You never knew when you were going to be meeting with a perp instead of an informant. For all Madison knew, Sharon Kingsley was a murderer. Okay, that was a stretch even for Madison’s imagination.

  The email was something of a shocker though and cryptic in typical lawyerly fashion.

  I propose we meet at Corner House Grille located at 147 Center Avenue, tomorrow (Tuesday) evening at 6:00. Please confirm if this is acceptable.

  Reading over the printed copy, it still didn’t make Madison feel warm and fuzzy. Why would Sharon possibly want to meet with her?

  Arriving early was a complete waste of time. She didn’t feel any more comfortable for sitting there waiting. She obviously hadn’t needed to stake out the place.

  Sharon walked in at exactly two minutes until 6:00. Dressed in a designer suit with two-inch heels and wearing her signature strand of pearls, she looked as though she were attending a board meeting. Her blonde hair was pulled back severely, as it had been the only other time Madison had seen her.

  Somehow, for Sharon, the starkness worked. It highlighted her features, which seemed sculpted by Adonis himself–prominent cheekbones, a nose that would have made a plastic surgeon proud, probably did in fact, and lips that didn’t need lipstick though she wore a light shade anyway. Her eyes were accented with a slight amount of liner and there wasn’t a doubt they took in everything and everyone.

  This was one no-nonsense woman.

  Madison briefly considered adopting the look for her classroom. If she could pull it off, which was seriously doubtful, her classes would become a model of perfect behavior.

  Sharon raised a perfectly arched eyebrow when the hostess showed her to the back of the restaurant.

  “Ms. Hart. You might have enjoyed a table with a view of the mountains more.”

  “I’ve probably read too many novels. When in uncertain territory, keep your back to the wall.”

  “Ah.”

  Sharon looked toward the kitchen and their waiter appeared as if summoned by the power of her suggestion.

  “Charles. I’ll have coffee, with a shot of espresso.” Sharon looked to Madison, waiting for her to order.

  So much for hoping they were going to share a bottle of chardonnay and become bosom buddies.

  “Raspberry tea for me.”

  Charles scurried away, though Madison entertained the thought of asking him to pull up a chair. She suddenly wished she’d picked a table in the middle of the room. This lady was like the ice queen. Madison instantly knew she never wanted to end up in the courtroom on the opposite side of the witness stand from Sharon Kingsley.

  “Espresso this late? You don’t worry about insomnia?”

  “I have to go back to the office.”

  “Of course.”

  “Ms. Hart, thank you for seeing me. I’m sure you’re wondering why I contacted you.”

  “I thought maybe you wanted to be gal-pals.”

  Sharon smiled, but it didn’t reach past her lips.

  Charles brought their drinks, then asked if they’d like something to eat. Sharon declined, a testament to her size six figure. Madison was instantly tempted to order chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes with gravy, and dessert to spite the woman. She satisfied herself with adding real sugar to the tea. There were crackers on the table if she began to feel faint.

  “I want to talk to you about Aiden.”

  Madison drew a deep breath. On some level, she had guessed this was coming. Why else would Sharon call? It wasn’t like they socialized in the same circles. With a start, Madison realized she didn’t socialize in any circle. She needed to start dating, even if it was accepting Bubba’s invitations to see those adorable cows.

  “Shoot. What do you want to talk about? His money? His golf swing? The way he kisses? Or maybe you’d like to discuss his mysterious absences for days on end.”

  Sharon silently sipped her coffee, watched, and waited. It was probably an intimidation technique she learned in law school. They probably paid her to teach it to wannabe attorneys—how to make the opposing team sweat into their raspberry tea.

  Madison stirred her drink, but she couldn’t bring herself to swallow any of it. Suddenly she wanted to be home, with her kitten in her lap, curled up on her couch, and reading a book. She’d take a teeth-jarring Stephen King over a conversation about Aiden.

  “I don’t know what you want, Sharon. But there’s nothing between Aiden and me.”

  “There was though.”

  “Yes, there was.”

  “Until you called it off.”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  “He didn’t have to.”

  “Why am I talking to you about this? I don’t even know you.” Madison retrieved her purse from the floor, pulled out five dollars, which would surely cover a glass of untouched tea, and placed it on the table.

  “I care about Aiden.”

  It wasn’t the words that stopped Madison cold. It was the way she said them. For once the lawyer’s voice was gone, replaced by something softer.

  “He stood by me when few people in this town would have. He made,” her eyes swept around the room, “he made my success possible. Without him my law practice would have suffered a rocky start.”

  Madison sat back down.

  “When I first came to Edgewood, I didn’t plan on falling in love with Bix. When I did, I didn’t dare tell anyone. It was none of their busin
ess. But my parents...well they still had the power to make me feel like a child who couldn’t make her own decisions.”

  Madison thought of her relationship with her mother, how they’d always felt like friends. She’d been lucky.

  “At first everyone assumed I didn’t date because I was starting my practice. After a year though, people started to gossip. Aiden stopped that talk. He gave people time to get to know who I am, to respect my excellence as an attorney. Now I like to think they see me as a professional and they accept that my personal life is none of their business. Aiden is a very special man, Madison.”

  “I agree he is a great guy.” Madison turned the glass around in her hands. She wished she could sit there, calm and composed like Sharon. She envied her poise. At a time when nothing in Madison’s life remained constant from day to day, she could have used even a little of that certainty.

  “I don’t know what happened between you two, but when you first came to Edgewood, Aiden was happier than I’ve ever seen him. Happy enough he couldn’t maintain our charade any longer.”

  “He asked to end it?”

  “No. He wouldn’t have abandoned me. It was plain to see the longing in his eyes the night at the banquet though, and if you could have seen the way he handled my Porsche that evening,” Sharon let out a small shudder at the memory. “I suppose on one level I have you to thank for pushing me out of hiding. It really is no one’s business if I’m in love with a rocker who wears ragged jeans, sports long hair, and travels over half the year.”

  This time when she smiled it did go past her lips, and Madison found herself relaxing a little.

  “Now Aiden is hurting. His brother Nate is worried. I’m worried. You certainly have every right to make your own decisions, but if there’s anything I can say or do—”

  It was the first time she didn’t finish a sentence, and Madison looked up from her tea to see something akin to pity in her eyes.

  “Thank you for offering. I like Aiden, a lot. I’m sorry he’s hurting now, but it’s for the best that we’re not together.”

  “How can you be sure? If you care for each other, maybe you can work it out.”

  “Sometimes affection for each other isn’t enough. Wouldn’t you agree? Sometimes people care, but they keep hurting each other again and again. There’s nothing either can do to change.”

  “Aiden isn’t like that.”

  “I know he doesn’t mean to be. Surely, you’re aware of his mysterious absences.”

  Sharon’s eyebrows again arched.

  “One minute we’ll be so close you couldn’t slip a piece of paper between us, then he’ll receive a phone call, and he’s gone. No explanation, no estimated time of return, nothing.”

  Sharon finished her coffee, then pushed it away.

  “I worked a lot of hours while we were seeing each other. To tell you the truth, I didn’t really notice his absences. Of course there were times he was gone, but I figured he was seeing women from other towns, trying to keep his private life private.”

  Madison waited, but Sharon seemed a hundred miles away.

  She drummed her fingernails against the table, then reached into her designer bag and pulled out her daytimer, turning it to the month of August. “What day did you come into town?”

  “THE SCHOOL BANQUET was August fifth. I flew in the Monday before.”

  “The first of August.”

  “I guess. I really don’t see where you’re going with this.”

  Sharon motioned to the waiter, pointed at her cup, and he scampered away to retrieve more espresso.

  “Aiden had been out of town all week before the banquet?”

  “I don’t know. We flew in on a Monday. The weather was terrible. I’d had an incident on the airplane.”

  “What type of incident?” Sharon asked.

  “It was just a headache. I’ve had migraines for years, but this one was much worse. Apparently I passed out.”

  “Has that ever happened before?”

  Madison shook her head and took a long drink of her tea. Her mind slipped back to that night and curled around something, tried to retrieve an image or voice. “I still can’t remember it all. When I came to, Aiden was there kneeling by my seat.”

  “You were in first-class?”

  “No, of course not. I was closer to the back of the plane.”

  “Aiden always flies first-class. What was he doing at the back of the plane?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Charles arrived with Sharon’s espresso and a fresh tea for Madison.

  “Let’s start from the beginning.” Sharon pulled a steno pad from her bag and created a crude timeline.

  “You both boarded the flight from Dallas to Salt Lake on the evening of August first.”

  Madison nodded, feeling like a character in a John Grisham novel.

  “Everything was fine on the plane, but you were experiencing a migraine.”

  “No. There was a storm, and I’m a little afraid of flying. I don’t remember having a headache though.”

  Sharon set her pen down. “You said you passed out from a migraine.”

  “Yes. At least when I came to I had one. In fact, I couldn’t even stand and the flight attendant had called paramedics. They wanted to take me to the hospital. Aiden offered to help me to the first-class lounge instead. But I don’t remember having a migraine before I passed out.”

  Madison frowned as she pulled the mint out of her tea. “I can’t recall anything from that flight. It really bothers me. I’ve never had a migraine wipe out an entire evening before.”

  Sharon stared at her a few minutes, then scribbled a few notes.

  “Aiden walked with you to the lounge.”

  “Actually, he carried me.”

  Sharon paused in her writing, glanced up at Madison. “Why would he carry you?”

  “I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t even keep my eyes open. The overhead lights were like long needles piercing my skull. I tried to walk, but barely made it off the plane. Aiden picked me up and carried me.” The memory of him slammed into her until she was nearly smothered by it—the strength of his arms, the smell of his shirt, the safety of his presence.

  “I’ve never heard of a migraine with these effects before.”

  Madison shrugged.

  “Had you taken something before you boarded the plane? Any recreational drug use?”

  “Absolutely not. I don’t use drugs recreationally.”

  Sharon tapped the pen, finally placed it perfectly perpendicular to her daytimer and turned that steady gaze on Madison. “Have you considered you might have been drugged?”

  “What?”

  “There’s several date rape drugs that might have had this effect.”

  “Why would anyone drug me?” Madison reached for her necklace and fidgeted with the angel pendant.

  “I don’t know. Was there anyone else you talked to on the plane?”

  The profile of a man darted across her memory for a fleeting second. It was no more than a shadow though, more like an image from a dream. It slipped through her consciousness as quickly as it came.

  “No. No one.”

  “Let’s continue. Aiden carried you to the lounge. Later you both boarded the connecting flight to Kalispell. You said goodbye at the airport and didn’t see him again until the night of the banquet.”

  Madison tried not to squirm.

  “What am I missing?”

  “I have more than a slight fear of flying. The last time I flew was in August of 2005 on a Peruvian airliner. It crashed. I guess you could say I have a phobia of sorts.”

  “Understandable. How did it affect you the night of August first?”

  “I did fine on the first flight, other than the migraine. I didn’t realize the second plane would be so small.”

  “A puddle jumper.”

  “I might have panicked a little when I saw the plane.”

  Sharon took another sip of her second espresso.

 
“Aiden talked me through it. The flight was rather...cozy. I guess you could say we bonded or something.”

  Sharon pushed the cup away and continued to watch her.

  “He was pretty adamant about helping me drive from Kalispell to Edgewood. Then during the flight an attendant told him he had a phone call and that he needed to come to the front.”

  “The front of the airplane?”

  “Yeah. I thought it was strange, but then I figured maybe that was normal for someone as rich as Aiden.”

  “No, it’s not normal. You can’t really place a call through to a commercial plane unless there are extenuating circumstances. Even a man with Aiden’s connections would have a difficult time with that one.”

  Madison shrugged. “A few minutes after the phone call, we landed, and he left.”

  “But he was going to take you to Edgewood.”

  “Right. After the call, he explained something had come up and he wouldn’t be able to.” Madison traced the condensation on her glass. “He said he’d call that week, but he never did.”

  Sharon flipped back through her daytimer. “Because he was gone all week. He was late arriving back for the banquet. In fact,” she leaned back in her chair, “when I showed up at his house, he didn’t want to attend. I thought it odd at the time, since he was the one who made the reservation.”

  “It was the first of his disappearances.”

  “How many others have there been?”

  “Three, maybe four.”

  “Do you remember the dates?”

  “No. I might be able to if I looked at my work calendar.”

  “Would you email them to me?”

  “I suppose I could do that.”

  Sharon closed the daytimer, replaced her notepad in her bag, and placed ten dollars on the table.

  “I make it a point not to meddle in other people’s business, but I care a lot about Aiden. I think you do too.” Without another word Sharon stood and walked out of the restaurant.

  Madison grabbed her purse and rushed to catch up. Out on the sidewalk, Sharon pulled a pack of cigarettes from her bag, lit up, then offered Madison one as an afterthought.