Flash Flood Read online

  Suddenly Dona Mari was running, around the pool, past the changing area, moving unbelievably quickly for someone her age burdened by a long skirt. Dan took the other route behind the diving board to try and head the intruder off; Phillip stayed with Carolyn.

  And then when he was still twenty feet away, Dan heard the pop of a gun, something small, like the derringer in Dona Mari’s hand. Jesus. She could get them killed. And the man hadn’t moved, simply stepped back into the shadows of the tree and then out again, letting Dona Mari see him before he turned and ran over the lip of the arroyo into the darkness of the eighteenth green, keeping his back to Dan.

  The derringer’s second shot was squeezed off as Dona Mari fell to the ground. Swoon came to mind but Dona Mari seemed to be in shock, both eyes were wide open but unseeing, a trace of spittle rolling out of her gaping mouth.

  Phillip and Carolyn were beside her now. Carolyn on her knees cradling Dona Mari’s head, whispering encouragement.

  “Did you call the police?” Dan asked.

  Phillip shook his head. “I’m reluctant in my, uh, present position to get the law enforcement involved.”

  Of course, might not look good to have the housekeeper of the future governor emptying guns into would-be intruders.

  “You don’t think she hit the guy, do you?” Phillip was truly upset.

  “Doubt it. Lucky for him a derringer’s not too accurate.”

  “I never knew she carried a gun. I’m truly shocked.” Dan believed Phillip.

  Dan knew he wouldn’t have used it, but so much for leaving his gun in the glove compartment while out with family. It took Carolyn to help get Dona Mari to her feet and the three of them to half carry her toward the house. Dan and Phillip waited downstairs while Carolyn fussed with ice packs and smelling salts and then, exhausted, came back to the living room and fixed a double bourbon over ice and ran back upstairs.

  When she came back, it was to fix a drink for herself and sink down on one of the couches.

  “She’s quiet now. Refuses to go to a hospital.” Carolyn sipped quietly on her drink. “You know, she’s a healer in her own right, actually distrusts Western medicine.”

  “She may not be so strange after all.”

  “Don’t joke, Dan. I’m so upset.” Carolyn’s chin quivered and tears rolled down her cheeks. “You know how much she means to me.”

  “You know Carolyn credits her with saving her life,” Phillip said.

  Dan had heard the story a hundred times. Dona Mari had delivered Jason when they couldn’t get to the hospital in time and devoted day and night to the new baby and mother.

  “It’s just the hocus-pocus baloney.”

  “Everyone is skeptical of what they don’t understand,” Carolyn said.

  Defensive. He knew he’d lose this one if he didn’t stop but then just like when they were kids, he continued, couldn’t resist.

  “And you do understand?” There, throw down the gauntlet, amazing how he still got pleasure out of baiting his sister.

  “Yes. I do.” At least the sniffles were gone. Dan noted the chin that now stuck out defiantly.

  “So explain.”

  “She’s a Santera. It’s a religious system that honors ancestors and recognizes a direct contact between man and nature.”

  “Do they have a church or temple or whatever they would call it?”

  “The rituals, magic, really, are practiced in a forest, sometimes sacrifice—”

  “Sacrifices?” She now had his attention. Grand Champion Taber’s Shortcake Dream had been found on an altar in the woods.

  “Oh, it’s not what you think. A sacrifice can be symbolic, fruit, flowers, candles, that sort of thing. If it is animal, it means that there’s great danger about, great forces are involved, and there is some sort of major undertaking about to happen. She’s had these spells before. She’s delicate, fragile, even. She just can’t overdo.”

  Now that he’d had a few minutes to recount what had happened, that wasn’t exactly the way Dan had seen it. It wasn’t some kind of spell. For all the world it had looked like Dona Mari recognized the intruder. Recognized him and, if the derringer had been accurate at twenty-five feet, would have shot him point blank. He clearly recalled how the man had stepped into plain sight, confronted Dona Mari. Dan’s running up must have interrupted. But even he couldn’t help but think the man’s profile had been vaguely familiar.

  “I better be going.” Dan rose. Carolyn didn’t get up; Phillip offered to see him out. Looking down at his sister with her shiny chestnut hair and glowing pink cheeks, he thought of the dark, mysterious woman upstairs and couldn’t repress a shiver.

  ***

  The first thing Dan did Sunday morning was call Elaine. Simon would land in Albuquerque at three fifteen. He’d pick her up at noon for the trip. Good old Roger had called. Suggested breakfast. Meet him at the Village Inn at ten. He checked his watch. He’d have time to run by Carolyn’s. He thought it might be good brotherly policy to see how Dona Mari was doing, maybe question her about animal sacrifice if she was up to it.

  The house looked deserted from the front when he pulled up. The drive curved around to the side and ended in front of three closed garage doors. Dan picked the far one to block and pulled the Jeep snug with the building. Flagstone steps continued around the side to the pool area and hearing voices, Dan started in that direction toward a wrought iron gate.

  At first he was startled by the blood. A dead chicken was lying on the flagstone step with strange black charcoal markings in a circle around its body. Dona Mari. Keeping God knew what evil spirits from the house. But this was promising; she must be better. He opened the gate.

  He’d just stepped through when he was tackled from the side by a three-hundred-pound thug who pinned him to the ground and took his gun.

  “Armed, Mr. Ainsworth. I think we got him.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, that’s my brother.” For someone who didn’t like foul language, Carolyn was doing pretty good, Dan admitted as he rolled to a sitting position. Carolyn looked agitated and stood in front of him arms folded.

  “I’ll take that.” He struggled to his feet and reached for his gun.

  “No hard feelings?”

  At least the thug held out his hand, but Dan ignored it. Carolyn immediately began brushing his jacket but he waved her aside and simply slipped it off and shook it a couple times.

  “Is this necessary?” Dan waved toward the thug, who now stood a discreet distance away.

  “I think we need protection.” Phillip moved to stand beside Carolyn and placed a protective arm around her shoulders. “You know last night might not have been a fluke. In my position, with the upcoming elections, a bodyguard is a hell of a good idea.”

  “I totally agree,” Carolyn added, but she didn’t sound convinced.

  “All this because some guy took a peek at your backyard?” Dan said.

  Phillip turned away and Carolyn corrected him, “Threatened Dona Mari, you mean.”

  Dan let it drop. It was amazing how four people saw the same thing and could have such different interpretations. But it was interesting how fast Phillip could come up with a bodyguard on a Sunday in a town like Roswell.

  He didn’t see Dona Mari and decided not to ask to see her. He inquired after her health and then left, stepping over the chicken on his way to the Jeep.

  ***

  Roger let him get halfway through the plate of eggs overeasy and corned beef hash, homemade, not out of a can, before getting down to business.

  “I hope you believe me when I say we know nothing about any break-in at this Eric Linden’s house.”

  “It’s his wife’s house. He never lived there. That’s why you couldn’t find anything of his.” Dan buttered a second piece of toast.

  “Look, have it your way, but that’s not how the Bureau works.”

  “Okay.” Damned if it wasn’t, Dan thought. But he had to admit, they didn’t usually leave a mess.

  �
��How long will you be in Tatum?”

  “However long it takes. I’ve got to inventory every individually insured piece of livestock on the Double Horseshoe and check those others covered under a blanket policy.”

  “So what’s that mean? Pictures? Vet consultations? Go over breeding records? Match ear tags? Computer chips?”

  “All of the above.”

  “A month? Maybe two?”

  “If the weather cooperates.” Dan signaled for the waitress to bring more coffee and to take his plate. He was feeling human and a little sanctimonious that he’d left food on the plate, hadn’t felt he should wipe it clean. Wasn’t that the first step to losing a little weight?

  “How’s wearing a wire going?” Roger had just changed the subject, he better pay attention.

  “Haven’t had any real need to test it. Haven’t done anything that would be of interest to you guys.” Dan knew what Roger would say, and wasn’t disappointed.

  “Leave that to us. We’re not asking you to be discriminatory. We get paid to make those decisions.”

  Dan waited while Roger added a second packet of sugar to his coffee, ceremoniously tapping the side of the tiny white sack to get the last granules. Must be something big coming. He’s taking too long to get to the point.

  “When you go over the books, we want to know about any bills of sale to anyone south of the border, or any imports from those countries. Get us dates of delivery, size of shipment, actual copies of transport papers, vet’s health certificates, names of exporters or importers…and inspect the plane. We’ll accept a deposition, but pictures of the plane would be better.”

  “Don’t want much, do you?”

  The sarcasm was lost like he expected it to be. He hadn’t even seen an airstrip. But he knew they were on to something.

  The Cisco Kid. He would have been on his way to Venezuela if he hadn’t died. Maybe Billy Roland was telling the truth, he didn’t know who killed the bull, but Dan was certain for the first time that United L & C’s claim was chicken feed when compared to the kind of money that could be made.

  “Get back to us when you have something. If that’s the first day you’re there or the last. We expect to hear from you.”

  No good luck. No pep talks. Just get this done, buster. The “or else” was always implied, a between the lines reading that was vague but none the less threatening. And Dan never knew exactly what it might be. He always supposed someone could fix it so that he was audited on his income tax—every year for the rest of his life. That was incentive to do what they wanted.

  ***

  The plane was late and Simon had clearly had it with travel for that day by the time he was checked in. He whined and pawed at the door of his crate until Dan let him out. Then in some predestined moment in time, he romped past Dan and skidded to a stop in front of Elaine, who had dropped to her knees and was hugging his basketball-sized head and allowing more slobbers than even Dan could have put up with.

  “He’s a puppy.”

  “Eighteen months, but he doesn’t chew. Got an A at obedience school.” He didn’t think she was listening to him, but what was amazing was how Simon obeyed Elaine’s every command. He’d never seen the dog heel, sit, stay, whatever, better. The trip back to Roswell went by quickly. Simon rode in the back but would lean over the seat in half hour intervals to snuff the back of Elaine’s head. Reassured, he’d settle back and put his wet nose on the window glass.

  They talked, relaxed and at ease with one another, and stopped for dinner at a drive-up in Socorro, laughing as Simon inhaled three double burgers and begged for more. It was dark by the time they got to Elaine’s house, but she insisted on taking Simon to Petsmart to make sure she got the right size bed and see what toys he might like.

  He had the house to himself. And the only thing he could think of was making love, not that primeval scream of body contact they did in the hall a couple weeks ago, but a slow prelude to a relationship Dan wanted to have. Screw the feds, he didn’t care if this woman had a past. He just wanted to be involved in her future. He was finished rearranging the room by the time they got back.

  “What’s this?” Elaine laughed but was clearly puzzled. She stood in the doorway to the study taking in the room’s new carpeting—sofa pillows, bed pillows, throw pillows—every cushion in the house now covered the floor. Votive candles flickered from saucers on the window sill, and shelves and tops of the bookcases—probably meant for next year’s luminarias but he didn’t think she’d mind his borrowing them.

  “Just protecting my knees in case you’re a floor-only type.”

  She laughed, “Let me check on Simon. Don’t go away.”

  When she came back, she had also managed to shed her clothing. And she let him look, walked toward him slowly before dropping to her knees, then sat there taking in every naked inch of his body with her eyes. Coolly she reached out and touched him, ran a hand over the stiffness before she straddled him and lowered herself slowly, ever so slowly, all the time eyes locked with his.

  And that’s when the calculated moves ended. He pulled her down hard; one mouth bruising the other, tongues searching, her hips rhythmically pushing against him. Muffled sound, little groans of pleasure. Her? Him? He didn’t know and didn’t care. Everything was motion. He rolled her over pushing deep inside pinning her hips in the softness of a pillow. She clung to him pulling free to whisper, “yes, yes…” before meeting his thrusts in that perfect timing that usually doesn’t happen without lots of practice.

  There was no slowing things down, holding back, going for some greater high. There was no controlling the wave of feeling that seemed to start at his toes and roll upward across his body exploding in his groin but spreading a tingling warmth through his chest and down his arms. He’d always thought the “mutual climax” an overrated myth but knew by the way she’d arched against him emitting a scream that brought Simon snuffing and growling to the door that some kind of magic “oneness” had occurred.

  He felt she was reluctant to let him go, separate, pull out of that mind-altering state and rejoin reality, so he nuzzled her face, neck, ran his tongue around a nipple, tasting the saltiness of their perspiration. She was still but moved her hands down his back and lightly pressed his buttocks, brought him closer to her, then snuggled against him and held him there.

  It was a long time before they moved, broke the spell, and then it was without words, just a shifting, a pulling apart but bodies still touching. He dozed, then slept. When he awoke, the candles were sputtering, some with wicks already drowned in liquid paraffin. He looked at Elaine, and beatific came to mind. Not a word usually in his vocabulary, but it seemed to fit. He found the bathroom in the hall without turning on lights and managed to step over a snoring Simon without mishap. The shower felt good, stinging pings of hot water from a hundred tiny jets. He hadn’t felt this good in so long he couldn’t remember an exact date. The gray of dawn was just pushing the night aside when he walked back to see if Elaine wanted coffee.

  She roused, opened her eyes and slowly smiled. “Do you suppose I could have seconds?” She pulled him down and pushed him gently onto his back, knelt between his legs and took him into her mouth.

  This time when he awoke, the sun streamed in catching the swing of the Austrian crystal hanging in the window and making rainbow patches of light dance across his chest. Elaine absently traced one with her finger, then said reverently, “I think I’ve found the pot of gold.”

  “Is that some veiled comment about my anatomy?”

  Laughter. They tumbled together, too relaxed, too sated to want more, finally getting up to stumble over Simon on their way to the kitchen. It was eleven o’clock before they had coffee on the patio. A perfect night, a lazy day—it all made Tatum seem like a thousand miles away.

  By the time he headed for Tatum, it was early afternoon. He’d called ahead, rented the same motel room. He’d check in about six, they’d leave the room unlocked, key under the mat. No need to bother them at the
office.

  He didn’t know if he’d be invited to move out to the Double Horseshoe again. It would make things easier if he were. He left a message for Billy Roland, said he’d be out Tuesday morning. But for now he just wanted to think about Elaine: last night, this morning and all the other mornings he hoped would come.

  The seventy-five mile drive from Roswell to Tatum was one of those mindless stretches of highway. He hadn’t seen it patrolled and the average vehicle did eighty. Usually, but not today. He fell in behind traffic trusting the truckers with fuzz-busters. Scenery consisted of oil wells, and the smell of burning natural gas. Flaming torches dotted the horizon in four directions.

  There were few houses to be seen. Oversized decorative metal entries, cutouts depicting cattle or horses and spelling out the ranch’s brand and the owner’s name, arched over gates across roadways to mega-acre ranches. And to the naked eye, the roads looked for all the world like they led off into nothingness.

  For a late Monday afternoon, it was business as usual in Tatum. Main Street had half a dozen cars parked in front of Lil’s Mercantile and another half dozen at the grocery mart. The Silver Spur had one new car parked in front of number eleven. Dan pulled the Jeep into the parking slot in front of room twenty-two. He found the key, then shouldered his bags and pushed the door open.

  “Welcome back. Come in and shut the door.”

  The man sat on the opposite side of the room in almost total darkness. Blinds pulled and lights off. Only Dan’s opening the door had cast a long streak of late afternoon sunlight into the room illuminating the man’s legs. The informant. He would finally be able to put a face to a voice. Dan wished he’d have been a little more open about meeting him. He was having to take a couple deep breaths just to calm himself. He let the bags slip to the floor.

  “Sit on the bed. Don’t turn on the light.”