“Hey, any chance the kid just walked off the train at some stop without momma knowing?” Kate reached to her back pocket for her pad and pen, then paused. “Notes for later. When this information is OK to use.”
Dryden nodded.
“There are plenty of stops,” Cooper said.
Dryden shook his head. “She got on in Hyder. The first stop was the bottom of that wash.”
30
RAMM SAT SCRUNCHED in the corner of the bedroom still dressed in camouflage, knees drawn to his chest, face painted black.
“Papa?” Kelly opened her eyes, scanned the unfamiliar room, and found the apparition. She watched as he stood and stepped toward her, blue eyes glowing against the dark face. She screamed.
“No! No, Kelly! It’s all right. It’s Jason!”
She sucked in gulps of air. Her head pounded. “But … why do you look like that?” She backed away as he sat on the edge of the bed.
“It’s nothing. I’ll explain later.”
“Where are we?” She tentatively touched the bump that swelled above her left cheek.
“I’ll get you some ice for that.” Ramm rose.
“The train. What happened to—?” Kelly was interrupted by the feel of a wet tongue on her hand. “Hello,” she relaxed and scratched Dog’s mottled head.
“Let me get cleaned up and make you something to eat. Then I’ll tell you everything.” Ramm left Kelly alone with the dog.
Later, washed and dressed in faded jeans and a light blue sweatshirt, his hair wet and slicked back, Ramm tapped on the bedroom door. “Kelly, are you awake? I’ve brought you something to eat.”
“Yes, come in.”
Kelly watched as he set a tray on the side table. He took some pillows from the closet and eased them behind her back so she could sit up.
“It’s peanut butter and grated carrots on whole wheat,” he said, placing the tray on her lap. “And don’t say anything until you’ve tried it. The combination might seem a little odd, but it tastes really good. And it’s very healthy.” He poured hot black tea from a delicate blue and white teapot sporting dragons on the handle and spout.
Kelly picked up half the sandwich, took a bite, chewed thoroughly, and swallowed. “You’re right. It’s very good.”
When Kelly finished her lunch, she clasped both hands above her stomach. “What happened, Jason? Why am I here?”
“This is where I live.” He struggled with what he should tell her. “There was a train wreck. Not far from Hyder. I was nearby when it happened, so I went to find you.”
“My mother?”
“I carried you out, but didn’t see Miranda,” he lied.
“Did you tell Elect Sun I was here?”
The question stung. All logic pointed to the fact that he should return Kelly to Elect Sun, but then she’d be handed over to Miranda, and the girl would be sent away again. He tried to convince himself she should not be moved yet, but Elect Peter could easily be summoned to make that diagnosis and, considering the baby, any delay in getting her to a doctor would be foolish.
But how could he explain the fact that he’d spirited the injured girl away in the darkness without drawing undue attention to himself? He remembered the two dead boys submerged in the murky water at the bottom of the mineshaft. What would Kelly think of his savage retribution. Could she understand why, with no thought of turning the other cheek, he had appointed himself judge, jury, and gleeful executioner; or might she be disgusted that he derived pleasure from making the one boy suffer?
He stared at the floor. “My phone is not working, Kelly. And I didn’t want to leave you alone, so I haven’t been able to tell anyone yet.”
He looked up. The lie seemed to appease her, and she nodded thoughtfully. Then her eyes went wide.
“Are you all right?”
“It’s just the baby. It’s really kicking.”
That evening, Ramm pulled a couple of thick steaks from the refrigerator and tossed them on the grill, the one he’d built, like the fireplace, with weathered bricks from the remnants of the Rowley Mine buildings. After wrapping some sweet corn in foil, he placed the ears onto the edge of the grill. A bag of frozen french-cut green beans and a loaf of Elect Sun’s whole-grained bread filled out the meal.
They sat at an unpainted wooden table just to the right of the front steps, overlooking the mountains to the west. Kelly lifted another morsel of beef to her mouth, savoring the taste.
“You missed meat?”
“Yes, though it makes me feel a little bad now.” She stared as Ramm ate another forkful of steak, which was blood rare.
“When I’m with the Children, I honor their beliefs,” he explained between bites. “But when I’m not, I do what I think is right.”
“And eating meat is right?” Kelly placed her fork on the plate.
“I think there’s a reason humans have canines.” He tapped one of his pointed eyeteeth.
Kelly looked down at the dog lying contentedly at her feet.
“Dog uses her sharp teeth to rip flesh,” Ramm explained. “So do we. Why do we have these teeth if we are not meant to consume meat? Besides, you need meat right now. Iron and protein for you and the baby. Trust me. Elect Sun will understand.”
Kelly paused for a moment, distilling the information, then picked up her fork.
By the time the sun disappeared over the horizon, leaving tendrils of magenta and apricot reaching across the desert sky, the girl had consumed every morsel of steak on her plate, and some of Ramm’s, as well.
He rose to clear the table, placing the dirty dishes on the large white platter that previously held the steaks. He climbed the stairs and opened the screen door with his foot, disappearing into the cabin. The door snapped shut behind him.
Kelly, having dropped her napkin, reached to the ground to pick it up. That’s when she heard the crash.
“Jason!”
She found him on his knees, the platter and dishes shattered on the pine floor. His hands were clenched in tight fists, cords bulging in his neck. Slowly, he opened his eyes. She called his name again and again, but he didn’t respond.
When Ramm awoke, he was lying on the couch, a cool washcloth folded over his forehead, a green quilt draped over his body. Kelly sat in an upholstered chair, feet up on the matching ottoman. He looked away from her.
“What’s wrong with you, Jason?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” he answered coldly.
“Why not?”
“You’re a child.”
“My age makes me unable to understand when someone is in pain? Is that what you mean?”
“Of course not. It’s just …”
“What?”
Her odd guttural tone was beginning to sound normal. He wanted desperately to explain himself to someone, but he didn’t want to frighten Kelly. She might be the one who could help him, so he couldn’t risk driving her away.
Ramm took a deep breath and sat up. “I’m going to make some tea. And then I have a story to tell you.”
Later, a blaze of pungent mesquite crackled in the fireplace. “I was sent on assignment to Jerusalem.” He cupped his hands around a hot mug of honey-laced tea.
“The Holy Land?” Kelly took a chocolate chip cookie from the plate beside her. “Where Jesus was crucified?”
“Yes. That’s right.” Ramm paused. He would not tell Kelly what kind of assignment he was on, or anything about his life as an assassin, but he would tell her what happened.
When Ramm witnessed the woman sobbing before the altar at Golgotha, his immediate thought was to turn away, to leave her alone with her grief. Instead, he stood transfixed in the room that tradition declared marked the spot where Jesus allegedly hung on the cross. The woman pressed her cheek to the cold floor, tears staining the worn stone as she wailed.
As Ramm watched, he became suffused with a strange sense of calm, felt as if viscous, golden liquid now ran through him, causing a pleasant warmth. He walked toward the woman, his mind
free of pain for the first time since the war.
He knelt, reached out and stroked her hair, and spoke words he had never been able to recall, but their effect mesmerized the grieving woman. After she calmed, he helped her up, and was surprised that she seemed to recognize him. The anguished sobs turned to cries of relief and, in happiness, she threw her arms around him.
Two Israeli policemen entered the room.
“Why, Mary,” one said, speaking in heavily accented English. “How are you doing today?”
The policemen walked toward them and gently removed the woman’s arms from around Ramm’s neck.
“Sorry, sir. We’ll take care of her, won’t we, Mary?”
“We know just who to call.” The other policeman took the woman by the hand, but she shrieked and fought him.
Not unkindly, both policemen pulled her away from Ramm, but she strained toward him.
Speechless, Ramm watched as they led her to the stairway. The woman struggled to free herself, tried mightily to keep her eyes focused on Ramm. Then all three of them disappeared around the stone corner, her cries the only thing reassuring him that he had not imagined the episode.
Alone in that sacred place, Ramm gazed at his hands. They were different. He was different. The warmth still flowed over him, around him, from him.
Suddenly, a sickening bolt of fear surged through Ramm. He turned from the altar and fled the Room of Pity. He ran past the glass mosaics, one of which depicted the outstretched body of Jesus twisted in horrifying agony on the cross.
Taking the stairs three at a time, Ramm bolted out of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, and into the sunlight of Jerusalem’s Christian Quarter.
Ramm stopped telling the story, and looked at the girl whose face, as always, remained immobile. Only her eyes could show concern. Ramm wasn’t sure what he read in those eyes now. All he knew was that he was suddenly exhausted, emotionally drained.
“Kelly, do you mind if we finish this tomorrow?”
31
TEN O’CLOCK THE FOLLOWING morning, Cooper stood outside the white FBI tent that was functioning as the organization’s field office. Since the media people were safely cordoned off in the pen, and he had not been issued any other specific duties, he was now unabashedly eavesdropping.
“No, sir.” A tightly strung voice came from inside the tent. “Other than the letters, um … copies of the letter, we haven’t found anything.”
“No tire tracks? Shoe tracks? Tools?” a deeper voice asked.
“No. The ground was completely chewed up by the helicopters and emergency crews.”
Cooper slipped around to the front of the tent to get a glimpse inside. There wasn’t much to see; just a few tables, chairs, and a large white board.
“Okay.” The man addressing the group said. “Did we check every possible site that might have given this guy a chance to admire his handiwork?”
Cooper recognized the FBI man he’d run into the day before. He watched him pace across the front of the seated agents, hands locked behind his back, brush-cut head down as he walked.
“Beth, what have you got on the kidnapping?” he asked a butchy-looking, though not unattractive, blonde.
“No calls. No note. No contact of any kind.” She responded with professional air. “The mother, Miranda Garcia, lives in Agua Caliente, just a mile or so from Hyder. Woman’s poor. Lives in a three-room house. Eduardo Garcia also lives there. Says he’s her husband, but there’s no paperwork on a marriage. Common law, maybe.”
“And the girl? What do we know about her?”
“Daughter of Miranda and Bryan Kelly. He’s deceased. Vietnam Vet. Suicide. Garcia is her stepfather. It’s rumored that he’s the one who impregnated her.”
Snickers filled the room.
“That’s enough, people. Let’s try to act like professionals. Beth, go chat with the mother again. See if anyone had a motive to take the kid.”
“Maybe papa likes the young thing better than momma,” another agent joked.
“Sure, Tom,” the boss said. “And to get even, momma abducted the girl while she was unconscious. The woman was taken to the hospital, for crissakes.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Everybody, except Frank, out of here. Find out what the hell is going on.”
The other agents exited ignoring Cooper, since he was just a lowly local cop. He continued to listen to the conversation coming from inside the tent.
“Frank, we need to make a decision on the letter.”
“I think we should release parts of it to the media today,” Frank said. “There’s nothing in the letter that’s especially shocking, and maybe if we give the idiot a little press, he’ll start getting a big head and brag about what he did. We don’t have anything else to go on at the moment.”
“Do you think the girl might have something to do with the wreck?”
“Who knows?”
At 10:30., Kate sat munching an Oreo and reviewing newly shot B-roll. She yawned, tired from the drive, since she’d returned to Phoenix the night before and then had to turn around and come right back to the wreck site.
A car pulled next to the live truck, crunching to a stop on the gravel. Kate, engrossed in the package she was composing for the noon show, didn’t notice Sandy Taylor step out of her silver BMW convertible.
“Hel-loo!” Channel 10’s lead female anchor, fifteen years younger than Kate with credentials consisting primarily of a stint as Miss Arizona, teetered on towering crimson heels as she tried to negotiate the uneven desert caliche. Kate noticed that the shoes perfectly matched the woman’s jacket-skirt ensemble. Massive diamonds studded her ears. On the ring finger of her left hand, she waved a brilliant pear-shaped emerald surrounded by an ostentatious circle of diamonds.
“Ah, to marry well,” Kate mused, thinking of her two failed legal liaisons.
“Sandy.” Kate waved as the woman staggered toward her.
“I’m feeling much better now, Kate. Thanks for asking. Jim told me to tell you that we don’t need you here anymore.” She removed massive designer sunglasses and graced Kate with a perfectly capped smile.
Eyeing the woman coolly and showing no emotion, Kate slipped from her perch in the live truck, ripped the notes she’d taken on the B-roll from her reporter’s notebook, and placed them on the seat. She knew Sandy was incapable of putting together a story even if she had all the elements handed to her.
Craig, the live truck driver, having watched the exchange, came around to the side of the truck. “Hey, Kate. You did a hell of a job out here. I really appreciate it.”
Kate forced a smile. The pity in his voice was like a physical blow. Sandy, oblivious, started jabbering about something as she leaned into the convertible and grabbed a bulging make-up case from the passenger seat.
Kate smiled as if heading off on a picnic. “See ya, Craig. Sandy.” She pulled the chain holding the credentials packet over her head and dropped the documents on the seat. “Never let ‘em see ya cry,” she muttered, flinging her back pack over her shoulder.
A short time later, Kate sat alone on a flat rock sparsely shaded by a scrubby patch of creosote. She tossed small stones at a hefty chunk of black basalt.
“Hey! Shouldn’t you be getting ready for a noon liver, or whatever it is you call those things?” Cooper asked.
She didn’t answer.
He sat and began flinging pebbles along with her. After he hit the rock square on three consecutive tries, Kate finally spoke. “Can’t you let me feel sorry for myself in peace?”
“Kate Butler? Winner of six Emmys and assorted other TV award-type stuff that I do not know enough about to mention specifically? That Kate Butler? Investigative reporter extraordinaire? Network workhorse? You are kidding.”
Kate sighed. She couldn’t help smiling. “Today the legend feels like shit, thank you very much. Didn’t you know? Legend just means old. Same as pioneer. It’s a nice way to say you’re over the hill.”
“And why does Kate Butler feel so old?�
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“Sandy showed up.”
“Ah. Well, of course you feel crotchety. Is she wearing those delicious spikes she’s so well known for?”
Kate looked down at her favorite worn black cowboy boots and elbowed Cooper hard in the ribs.
“Just kidding.” He winced from the assault. “You know I’m a boot man. Always have been. Give me a girl in a pair of cowboy boots and …”
“Nothing else?”
“Exactly. Girl of my dreams.”
Kate checked her watch, a nervous habit from years of dealing with frantic TV deadlines always measured in seconds. She unhinged the timepiece and buttoned it into the top pocket of her jacket.
Then Cooper checked his watch. “Wouldn’t you know it? I’m off in two hours. Do you think I could find anyone out here who’d like to have dinner with me tonight?”
Before Kate could answer, Cooper’s phone rang. He looked at the electronic leash.
“You’ve been saved by the bell, Butler. But don’t move. I’ve gotta call my boss.”
Kate turned from Cooper and stared across the open desert that lay between her and the area filled with bustling media people. She had always enjoyed the camaraderie of her peers, back when, despite working for different news outlets, reporters helped one another if the need arose. If Channel 10’s camera died at a press conference, someone at another station would make a copy of the video for Kate to use knowing at some point in the future the favor would be returned. But reporters were adversaries now, the all-for-one and one-for-all attitude having been replaced by a lot of selfish egos eager to do anything to get to the Network.
“Okay. I’ll get right on it,” Cooper signed off and looked at Kate.
“Right on what?”
“The boss wants me to look into the kidnapping. The FBI guys have their hands full here, and they thought since the girl is from the Hyder area, we local boys might have a little more insight into her disappearance.”
“Makes sense. So, I guess this means dinner is off?”
“Absolutely not.” Cooper extended a hand.
A Light in the Desert Page 11
