Crystalline Crypt

by Mary Coley

  Mandy’s face warmed. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll stay here, at least tonight. Get a real feel for the place. And could be I’ll stay over the weekend to help. But I expect to pay for my room. I don’t know that I’ll be that much help to you.”

  Dale shrugged. “Well, I’ll give you tonight for half price, and we’ll negotiate the rest as the weekend happens. Give me a couple of hours of your time tomorrow to freshen up the cabins, make up the beds, and clean the bathrooms. Okay?”

  They shook on it.

  “Now, I’ve got bookwork to do before I drive into town to get groceries.” Dale cleared the rest of the dishes from the table and carried them over to the sink.

  “Honey take it easy. You know your headaches get worse when you do too much. This young lady has offered to help. Let her.” Max kissed his wife on the cheek and left the room.

  “He’s right. I accept your help. You’re welcome to go into town with me if you’d like.” Dale rinsed the plates.

  “I would like to pick up a few things.” But mainly, Mandy wanted to ask around about Jenna and the tragedies at the dude ranch. “My dog’s in the car. If there’s a place I could leave him here, I’ll ride with you. Is that okay?”

  “Sure. We can put him in the tack room at the stable for the afternoon. He’ll be out of the way and will probably love the smell of the place.” Dale’s eyes closed briefly, and her brow creased. “There’s a shop next to the grocery that carries basics. Nothing fancy, jeans and tops, T-shirts. Give me thirty minutes and I’ll be ready to go. Here’s the key to bunk 2, the one I showed you. You can move your vehicle, if you’d like. I’ll meet you back up here.”

  Inside the little cabin, Moby wandered around, sniffing. Mandy hoped he was housetrained, but she was ready to shoo him outside if he raised his leg.

  When it was apparent he wouldn’t make a mess in the cabin, she got out her cell phone. No signal. If there were any towers within twenty miles, the granite hillsides blocked the signal. She’d call Will once they were in town. Otherwise, she’d have to ask Dale if she could pay to use their landline.

  Layered with quilts and two fluffy pillows, the double bed was as comfortable as it looked. The sheets smelled fresh and clean and were smooth and soft to the touch. She could sleep here for a night and hopefully find time to talk to Lamar. If he was the Lamar Jenna had told her to find, he could help find Jenna. Otherwise, she’d be back to square one. But how likely was it that there was more than one person in this area named Lamar?

  ~ Chapter 28 ~

  Sean

  Sean Wade slumped over his tiny table in the Starbucks and stared out the window at the afternoon traffic on Peoria in Tulsa’s popular Brookside district. Over an hour had passed since he’d ordered his coffee, and the half cup that remained was cold, the same temperature as the air in the place, somewhere around 72 degrees.

  He had played this whole thing wrong. He should have talked to Jenna. He should have told her more. Maybe she would have trusted him with her past. Then, she would have known he could help her find a way out. She hadn’t needed to run.

  Sean could make it right, he was sure. He thought he knew where Jenna had gone. Mandy was probably on the right track, going to the Wichita Mountains, going to Jandafar. But Jenna could have run in the other direction, away from her past, away from him and everything they’d built together.

  A work assignment in the world of art fraud had brought them to Tulsa, and she’d been willing to come, even though it brought her back to the state she’d run from so many years ago. He’d expected her to tell him the story of her past. He’d waited for her to tell him. But she hadn’t. He’d been trained not to reveal his thoughts or emotions but pretending he didn’t know the tragedy she’d suffered was the hardest thing he’d ever had to cover up.

  Sean had seen the painting of the woman who looked like Jenna when it first arrived at Yolanda’s Art. He’d noted the resemblance, but his mind was focused on other things. The artist, for one. The similarity in the dark style of that painting, compared with others in the gallery—paintings he’d been watching and studying since coming to Tulsa—had convinced him that the artist of Jenna’s painting, Cha Har, was the forger he’d been tracking.

  The brushstrokes, the use of color and light, the Baroque-like style, as well as the fine details the artist had added to the woman’s face had cinched it. The commonalities were conclusive.

  Jenna knew Cha Har. The artist was connected to her. But even after she’d shot him Tuesday night, she had not revealed anything about the painting or the artist and her connection to him.

  The bullet had grazed his leg, but he dove toward the door and knocked the breath out of his assailant. When he’d flipped the light switch on, she’d looked up at him from the floor and burst into tears.

  “Jenna! My God.” Sean had leaned over his wife and lifted her to a sitting position, cradling her in his arms and swaying as if she was a baby.

  “Oh,” she’d whimpered. “I could have killed you.”

  “But you didn’t. It’s just a scratch. What’s going on?”

  She’d evaded the question, pulling him out of the laundry room to the bathroom, where she’d grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet. He’d questioned her as she cleaned the wound in his leg, but she had refused to respond. Finally, after the bandage was secure and he was standing, embracing her, she spoke.

  “I can’t stay here, Sean. They’ve caught up with me.”

  “Who?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t talk about it. Let me go, Sean.”

  He sat back, opened his embracing arms.

  “I mean, I’m leaving.”

  “Jenna?”

  “I can’t stay. A moving company took my office things to storage. I quit my job. And I’ll send you divorce papers to sign once I’ve found someplace to live. Don’t try to find me, Sean.”

  “Jenna!” He’d reached for her as she brushed past him. “Where are you—”

  She ran from him. He started after her, wincing at the pain in his leg. By the time he got to the front door, she was nowhere to be seen.

  He’d done the only thing he knew to do that would help her disappear. He’d contacted a moving company to store their things and a realtor to sell the house.

  He had no home to return to tonight. Everything was in motion.

  Sean chugged the remnants of lukewarm espresso in his mug.

  He had to find his wife.

  ~ Chapter 29 ~

  Mandy

  “I’m ready. Hop in. I’ve got my grocery list.” Dale waved a piece of paper in the air.

  Mandy climbed into the passenger seat of the truck

  “Did you get your dog situated in the tack room?”

  Mandy nodded. “He was intrigued by all the smells, like you thought. He’ll be fine.” She dreaded the ride into town and back. Dale was bound to want to make conversation, and Mandy was afraid she might get confused about what lies she’d told and say something contradictory. At least she didn’t have to drive or worry about being run off the road or rammed into a ditch.

  Dale turned the radio up as they turned onto the country road and rolled down her window. Apparently, she didn’t want to talk either. Mandy studied the countryside and hummed along with the music. Dale’s face was set in a frown as she focused on the road into town.

  “Meet you back here in an hour? Dry Goods is over there,” Dale said as she parked the truck in front of the grocery. “If you get delayed, don’t worry, I’ll go get a soda pop. If I’m not in the truck, that’s where I’ll be.”

  Mandy headed to the recommended store. There was precious little time to accomplish all she needed to do in only an hour.

  The shop’s worn wood floor needed to be stripped and polished before it would resemble the popular wood floors in Tulsa’s posh department stores. The wall displays made it evident where the men’s, children’s, shoes, and women’s departments were without the use of signage. Hardware section, appliances
, and electronics filled one end of the building. It was a mini-Walmart without the smiley-face pricing signs.

  She darted through the store to the women’s clothing section and flipped through the rack of shirts and tops. A few garments fit her style, and after finding her size, she took them to the counter. “I need a few other things. I’ll be right back.”

  Mandy gathered items from the cosmetics department and found a large carryall in the small selection of luggage. She returned to the counter and lay down her credit card.

  “That it for you?” the checkout girl asked. She chomped her bubble gum, blew a bubble, chewed it up, and popped it between her teeth. Her lipstick and fingernails were painted a deep shade of blood red, and her eye shadow matched. The fake diamond stud in her left nostril wiggled as she chewed.

  “Think so. Hope you take plastic?”

  “Sure do. You’re that woman who ran off the road headed up to Jandafar, aren’t you?” She blew and popped another bubble.

  Mandy peered at the girl. “Good news travels fast.”

  The girl smiled. “Small-town grapevine. Bet I know more about you than you know yourself.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’re from Tulsa. Got your name right here on the credit card, and it’s the same as the name I heard over at the café earlier. Supposedly you’re looking for a job, wanting to move here, but you don’t have much luggage. Kinda nosy, asks lots of questions, mostly about Jandafar and what happened up there not long after I was born. People suspect you’re a newspaper reporter. Gonna write a true crime article or dig up dirt about ghosts. That about right?”

  Mandy frowned. “No, that’s not right. I’m not a reporter of any kind or a ghost hunter. I’m curious, that’s all.”

  The girl finally smiled, revealing black braces. “Uh-huh. Just ’cause this is a small town don’t mean we’re stupid.”

  How many times had the girl heard that sentiment?

  “I never said anything about anyone being stupid. And you know what? It doesn’t matter what you think you know. You don’t know squat.”

  Mandy signed the credit card slip. She slipped the shirts and the other items she had bought into the carryall, tore off its tag, and left the store.

  How boring life must be for these people if all they had to do was run down to the café and gossip about her. She paused on the sidewalk and looked up and down the street. Her next stop—at the newspaper office—would raise the red flags even higher.

  Jenna’s life might be at stake, one part of her brain argued. You back down now, stop digging, and you may never find her—alive.

  But I’ve already found Lamar and Jandafar, the other part of her brain argued back. I’ll talk to Lamar tonight. First-hand information will be better than a news article anyway.

  She wanted to kick herself for not being more discreet. She’d asked the wrong person something and now the whole town was suspicious of her.

  The cafe was across the street.

  Mandy settled onto a stool in the middle section of the counter. About a half-dozen other people sat scattered around the eatery.

  “Hey there, good to see you again. What can I get you?” It was Nancy, the waitress who’d been so friendly to her before, so friendly that the entire town knew who she was. But it could have been Doug at the car rental place, or someone at the hospital, or the guy who had pulled her out of the car, or… There was a long list of people she’d talked to. It might not be Nancy’s fault at all.

  “A Diet Coke. Thanks.” Mandy avoided looking at the waitress. If she didn’t know who she could trust, she wouldn’t trust anyone.

  “You okay? Heard about your accident. Sounds like you were lucky.”

  “It wasn’t an accident. Someone ran me off the road. What I don’t know is why. You knew I was going up there; you suggested it.”

  Nancy leaned over the counter. “You’re thinking I told somebody, and they tried to run you off the road? Hm. Ever hear of paranoia?” Nancy marched over to the ice machine, filled a glass with ice, and shifted to the drink machine. She set the drink in front of Mandy and turned away without speaking.

  Mandy sipped her cola. She hadn’t handled that right, and she needed someone on her side. She suspected Nancy had told her all she knew about Jandafar in their first conversation. There was no need to try to dig up more info. What she did need was to convince people she wasn’t a reporter. Maybe then someone would talk to her.

  The next time Nancy passed she was carrying a big chocolate soda with whipped cream on top. Mandy spoke up. “Look, I’m sorry. I wasn’t accusing you of anything. I’m scared and a little paranoid. I’d expect things like that to happen in big cities, but not in a small town. I came here to get away from crime and aggressive drivers. But I guess I didn’t.”

  “Our normal way of driving is not to run people off the road. But there are idiots here, like everywhere. Usually they drive giant SUVs and trucks. Got something to prove, I guess.” Nancy deposited the chocolate soda in front of a customer, removed used dishes farther down on the counter and rubbed the surface with her rag before she worked her way back to Mandy. “I’m sorry you were scared. And honest, I didn’t say a word to anyone about you. But that doesn’t mean someone didn’t overhear our conversation.”

  On the ride back to Jandafar Hills, Mandy said nothing to Dale about what the shop girl had said or the words she’d had with Nancy. Dale probably had her own doubts about Mandy and her story, but Mandy planned to keep up her ruse, at least until she’d had a chance to talk to Lamar. Tomorrow, before she dug herself any deeper into this lie, and before Dale pulled her help wanted ad, she’d tell the Hardestys the truth.

  That afternoon, as promised, she helped Dale clean the upstairs rooms which had been occupied the previous weekend. She dusted and vacuumed the rooms, cleaned the bathrooms and put fresh linens on the beds. It would have been easy, mindless work if her arm hadn’t been so badly bruised. As it was, she gritted her teeth with each movement. The upside of it all was that the work gave her time to prepare to talk to Lamar.

  He’d made it clear he didn’t like people digging into either his business or the past. First, she had to get him to like her a little. She had to open up and talk about herself, had to reveal something personal. After dinner, she’d grab an opportunity to talk to Lamar alone. Then she’d throw out her ace and watch for his reaction.

  Back at the ranch house, Mandy set the table and made a centerpiece from flowers Dale had collected. After mashing the potatoes, she kept an eye on the biscuits in the oven while Dale cooked chicken-fried steak.

  Outside, Moby and Doobie raced around the yard. Initially, Mandy was concerned the dog might run away if he wasn’t on a leash, but he stayed with Doobie, and Doobie was thoroughly attached to Jandafar.

  Mandy felt guilty. Dale was trusting her, trying her out, seeing if they could work together. Their conversation was easy, and she liked the woman and felt concerned about her health. Dale looked exhausted and frequently seemed disoriented, probably from her headache medication. Mandy hoped Dale and Max wouldn’t be mad when she told them the truth tomorrow.

  “You know anyone else named Dale?” she’d asked as Mandy helped peel the potatoes. “I’m named after Dale Evans. She was married to Roy Rogers, but you’re probably too young to remember them. Or even Trigger.”

  “I’ve heard of them, but you’re right, I’m too young to have seen that television program. That was back in the ’50s, wasn’t it?”

  “Late ’50s, early ’60s. The name Dale for a girl didn’t catch on, though, not like other name crazes. When I met Max, he told me he loved that name. Kept saying I was his personal cowgirl and would never be anyone else’s.”

  It seemed an odd thing for Dale to share, and if that’s what Max had really said, a possible red flag indicating someone who was possessive and controlling. She avoided those attributes in men she agreed to date. Thank goodness Will wasn’t like that—at least, he hadn’t been until she started looking for Je
nna.

  “I love your place,” Mandy said at dinner after they’d all filled their plates with a homestyle dinner of chicken-fried steak, green beans, mashed potatoes, and biscuits. “I can’t imagine a more beautiful setting. The valleys and the old granite mountains. I can see why you love it and why you bought this place.”

  “We did fall in love with it,” Dale said. “But Max was in love with it long before I was. He grew up in this area, so he knew it when it was a dude ranch even before Lamar worked here.”

  Another possible source of information. If she followed up on this information would it seem like she was snooping?

  “I can’t imagine growing up out here, in such a small town. Is it like they say, nothing to do as a teenager but drink and get into trouble?”

  Max chuckled. “That’s about right. This fella here and I both did our share of both, years apart. His uncle and I went to school together.”

  “Are most people ranchers?”

  “Yup. That and business owners, catering to tourists,” Max continued. “We’ve seen retirees moving in over the last ten, fifteen years. A few new houses going up. Construction business and land sales doing okay.”

  “We were lucky to get this place before the land grab was in full swing,” Dale added. “And you wouldn’t believe how often we have offers to buy it outright, sight unseen.”

  “I can see why you get the offers, and I can see why you don’t want to sell. Like I said, I can’t imagine a more perfect place to be.” Mandy reached for the gravy and added a heaping ladle-full to her mashed potatoes.

  “Where’d you grow up, Mandy?” Dale asked.

  She was relieved for the opportunity to talk about herself. She hoped it would help Lamar lower his guard. Carefully, she chose facts to tell them, never revealing the real reason she’d come to Medicine Park.