That seemed to be the theme of the assault. Probably nothing the prosecutor could make stick, and charges would never be brought. But Mattie wondered if the Perry brothers would eventually be charged with murder.
“So why all these questions about Luke?” Quinn asked, looking at Stella.
Stella leaned forward again and crossed her arms on the tabletop. “Luke Ferguson was found dead up by Hanging Falls a couple days ago.”
Quinn’s head snapped backward, and he sucked in some air. “What?”
Stella nodded, while Mattie sat still and observed him.
“But he went home. He told us he was leaving.” Quinn’s gaze focused on the table, and he appeared to be searching his memories.
“When was that exactly?” Stella asked.
“I can’t remember the date, but I might be able to find it on my calendar.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, swiped, and scrolled. “Here. This is the last time I saw Luke at the Watering Hole.”
He placed his phone on the table, turning it so that Mattie and Stella could see. Mattie took out her notepad and recorded the date. It was approximately two weeks earlier, and the notation was for six o’clock in the evening: Luke—bar.
“Thank you, Mr. Randolph,” Stella said. “I just have a couple more questions. Do you have horses?”
“I have three of my own and board horses for other people.”
“Where’s this?”
“I have a property near Hightower.”
“Have you ever ridden up by Hanging Falls?”
“A couple times.”
“By yourself?”
“Once. And then again with Parker.”
“Have you ever met a man named Tracy Lee Brown?”
Quinn’s gaze lost focus as he thought. “No. Not that I can recall.”
“When you went riding up to Hanging Falls with Parker, did you see a man on the trail?”
Quinn stared at Stella. “Parker said that, didn’t he? Yeah, we saw a man. Skinny dude with a fanny pack. Headed downhill. Stepped aside so we could pass, said hello.”
“You didn’t stop to visit?”
“It was on a steep part, so there was no place to stop. Just enough room to pass.”
“Okay,” Stella said, and she looked at Mattie as if inviting her to jump in.
Mattie thought Quinn had been open and cooperative during their questioning up to this point. She cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Your work involves keeping horses calm enough for you to work on. Do you use any medications or drugs when you do?”
It was as if a curtain dropped over Quinn’s face, and his expression went blank. “Not usually.”
“But sometimes?”
“Well …” His gaze darted between Mattie and Stella and then landed on the tabletop. “Every once in a while, I have to give a horse an oral sedative that comes in a paste. It’s an over-the-counter drug I can pick up at a vet supply store.”
“How about xylazine?” Mattie asked, pinning him with her gaze.
“Nope. Don’t use that.” He shook his head as he clamped his mouth shut.
She probed further. “Do you know what xylazine is?”
He nodded. “The vet used it on a stallion at the Perry place just a couple days ago so that he and I could work on him. Big, mean horse … worked real well.”
Mattie decided to go for the direct question. “Have you ever used the drug by yourself, or do you carry it with you?”
Quinn stared at Mattie for a few beats, and she could see the wheels spinning inside his head. He’s wondering what Parker Tate told us, she thought. If Parker supplied Quinn with a pharmaceutical that could be obtained by prescription only, they both would be in violation of the law. With her cop face pasted on, she waited him out.
“Nope,” he said finally, looking her in the eye. “That would be against the law.”
He’s lying. “What if I told you that we know you do carry this drug with you and have used it before?”
“I’d say you heard wrong.” A slight smile lifted his lips and his worried expression cleared as if he’d just remembered something, and he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “You can search my truck if you want to. You won’t find anything like that.”
His response made her wonder if he’d remembered he’d lost the bottle of xylazine up on the trail that led from Tracy Lee’s campsite so that he knew she’d find nothing in his truck. “Thank you, Mr. Randolph. With your permission, my dog and I will search your vehicle before you leave here.”
At the mention of Robo, Quinn swallowed, but he played it cool and nodded.
She figured they both knew she wouldn’t find anything, but she needed to accept the invitation anyway. Robo wasn’t trained to detect xylazine, but Quinn didn’t need to know that. And you never knew when Robo would find something else unexpected … and illegal.
Mattie’s cell phone vibrated in her pocket, and she took it out while Stella wrapped up the interview. It was a text from Julia. She and Abuela had arrived and checked in to the motel. They were in room ten.
Mattie’s heart leaped to her throat as she texted back that she would finish her work and be there soon.
TWENTY-TWO
Mattie drove up to room ten at the Big Sky Motel and parked, her heart pounding and hands trembling as she turned off the engine. She paused, struggling to regain her composure. But a woman who could only be her sister stepped outside room ten … and snatched Mattie’s breath away.
Time stopped as she and her sister stared at each other, unable to move. Julia bore a resemblance to the image Mattie saw each day in her mirror, but with one major exception—her sister was gorgeous. Whereas Mattie’s nose had a slight bend in it from being broken in a fistfight when she was a kid, Julia’s was straight and narrow and the perfect size. Her café au lait skin appeared flawless, and her hair, deep brown with a hint of auburn like Mattie’s short bob, flowed below her shoulders in a silky curtain.
Tears sprang from Julia’s eyes and she placed her hands to her cheeks to staunch them, the movement releasing Mattie from her daze. She registered the sound of Robo rushing to the front of his cage and then she bailed out of her SUV, running toward her sister. She and Julia collided, all arms and hugs and wet tears as they sobbed in each other’s embrace.
My sister, Mattie thought. This is my sister.
A silver-haired lady, stooped with age, came up behind Julia, who loosened one arm so that both she and Mattie could gather the woman in and clasp her tightly in a three-way hug.
Mattie cried while her abuela murmured sweet endearments in Spanish, words that meant everything to Mattie, words she’d yearned for as a child. Words that a mother or a grandmother would utter to a little girl with a broken heart. They filled her with so much comfort and love that she thought she might burst with joy.
Eventually, Mattie pulled back to study her grandmother’s face. Yolanda Mendoza was a tiny woman, her skin wrinkled like a walnut, perhaps from years in the sun. Her silvery hair was still thick, though fine in texture, which was apparent when a stray breeze tossed her short tresses and made them float about her head. Her eyes, such a dark brown that they were almost black, glittered with tears.
Mattie placed a hand on Yolanda’s cheek and struggled to speak, her throat choked with emotion. “This is hard for me to believe.”
Abuela covered Mattie’s hand with hers. “Mi dulce niña,” she murmured. My sweet girl.
And then they were back in each other’s arms until Robo started barking in the back of the unit. Julia chuckled softly, stepping back and wiping the wetness from her cheeks. “And I take it that’s Robo.”
Mattie brushed her tears away and tried to smile. Her heart was so full, she didn’t know if she could contain the rush of adrenaline in her system. Her love for Cole and his kids had challenged her ability to remain in control of her emotions many a time, but this was different. She was way out of her element now.
She wanted to whoop, shout,
and run circles around the motel. Instead, she answered her sister in an almost normal voice. “That’s Robo. My partner.”
Julia gestured toward the door to their room. “Bring him in so we can talk.”
Mattie glanced at the motel office. “I’d better get permission.”
Julia grinned. “I already did. Seems like you and your dog are celebrities around here. The manager said we couldn’t have a dog in our room until I told him who we were here to visit, and then he couldn’t be more accommodating. Said Robo was welcome anytime.”
Mattie returned her sister’s grin. “He’s somewhat of a star. Hang on, I’ll get him.”
She needed to take a moment to breathe, because her agitation would make her dog nervous. She took in a deep inhalation through her nose, releasing it slowly from her mouth as she went to the back of the unit.
Robo bounced from side to side, showing how her excitement had lit him up. They were connected that way.
“Okay, buddy, settle down,” she murmured in a soothing tone as she opened the hatch. Using a firm touch, she stroked his back, calming herself as much as him. Then she clipped a short leash to his collar and invited him to jump down to the ground.
He circled her ankles, looking up at her, his intelligent brown eyes telling her he was ready to do whatever she wanted. All their obedience drills and discipline paid off at times like these, and she couldn’t have been prouder of her partner, even though her family had no way of knowing how much effort went into training a high-drive male dog like Robo.
She told Robo to heel and then to sit after leading him around the car, stopping about five feet away from her sister and grandmother, who stepped back behind Julia, her movement subtle but obvious to Mattie.
“Say hello, Robo,” Mattie said, cuing him with the phrase that meant it was time to make friends. He stood, waving his tail gently, while Julia let him sniff her hand and then smoothed the fur on his neck and the top of his head. Robo acted like a perfect gentleman.
“He’s gorgeous, Mattie,” Julia said, and then spoke to Yolanda over her shoulder. “Don’t be afraid, Abuela. He won’t hurt you.”
Mattie was quick to reassure her too. “He likes to meet new people. He’s a good boy, aren’t you, buddy?”
Robo looked up at Mattie and waved his tail before turning his attention toward Yolanda as she approached slowly.
After the introductions, Julia led the way to the motel room door. “Let’s go inside where it’s more private.”
The curtains were open and the room decorated in cheerful red and blue shades, the double beds covered in white comforters and sheets that looked clean and inviting.
“Abuela, take one of the chairs.” Julia gestured toward the two comfortable-looking chairs that sat next to a round glass table while she perched on the bed. “Mattie, you sit in the other.”
Mattie waited while her grandmother took her seat and then sat, settling Robo beside her. This seemed like a strange ritual, visiting with family who would want to know everything about her life, information she’d always considered private. Mattie didn’t know how to begin.
But Julia seemed like a take-charge woman. “I have pictures for you,” she said, jumping to her feet and heading toward a suitcase that lay open on the bed at the far side of the room. “I can’t wait to show you.”
Mattie scooted to the edge of her chair, her hands itching to touch the photos. When Julia handed her the first one, her breath caught. It was a posed black-and-white photo of her mother as a teen, wearing a dark sweater and silver necklace. “Is this her senior picture?”
“Si,” Yolanda said with a soft smile. “My darling Ramona.”
Ramona had been as beautiful as Julia, with glossy black hair worn straight and long, pulled to one side and draped over her shoulder to flow halfway down her chest. She gazed into the camera with dark eyes framed by long lashes, a shy, sweet smile on her lips.
“She’s beautiful,” Mattie murmured, before memories rushed at her in flashes, filling her mind so that she couldn’t speak. Memories of her mother bending over the bed that Willie and Mattie slept in, holding a finger to her lips, telling them to stay in bed no matter what and not to come out of their room. Mattie felt like she was about three, Willie five, and her mother had been trying to protect them from whatever abuse Harold Cobb had in store for her that night.
A trembling sensation started at the base of Mattie’s rib cage.
Julia settled back onto the edge of the bed and offered another photo, which Mattie took with fluttering fingers. In this one, her mother looked older, and she held an infant wrapped like a peapod in a light-green blanket, proudly showing off the little wrinkled face and shock of dark hair by folding the blanket back. A sandy-haired man holding a boy who looked to be about two years of age stood with his arm around her, while a cute little dark-haired girl of about four cuddled between the two parents. A family photo—probably taken shortly after Mattie was born.
Mattie couldn’t stand the pain that shot through her. She laid the photos on her lap and, covering her face, sobbed into her hands.
“Oh no, Mattie,” Julia murmured, kneeling beside her and rubbing her back, while their grandmother made a sound of distress. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
Mattie struggled to control her emotion. Crying wasn’t her go-to reaction to the sorrowful things in life, but the heart-wrenching sadness caused by the destruction of that happy little family overwhelmed her.
She stifled her sobs and swiped at her wet cheeks, raising her face so that she could meet Julia’s gaze. “What happened to our dad?”
“Are you sure I should tell you now?” Julia looked worried, which made Mattie dread what she was about to hear, but nothing could be worse than Willie’s death.
Mattie nodded.
Julia sighed and scooted back onto the edge of the bed. “That’s our father, Douglas Wray.”
Mattie had known that as soon as she saw the photo; she nodded again, encouraging Julia to continue.
Julia took a breath. “He worked as a border patrol agent back in the eighties when there was a big crackdown on illegal immigration. During that time, we lived in Mesa, California, just south of San Diego.”
Mattie had heard of it, but she’d never been there. Well, evidently she had, but not when she was old enough to remember.
“You would’ve been two when he was killed. Do you remember him?”
Mattie shook her head. She hadn’t yet explained her repressed memories to her sister.
“That’s pretty young to remember anything,” Julia said. “I remember him well. He was a good father. He worked the night shift, and I remember having to be quiet during the day while he slept. But then, in the evening before he went to work, he would play with us.”
Julia’s face took on a glow as she remembered those happy times. Mattie tried to recall something, anything, but her mind was a blank. She looked into the face of the man in the photo and saw a smiling image of a seemingly good-natured person behind the suntan, the grin, and the light-colored eyes. She wondered if they were green like the flecks in her own brown eyes.
“Money was tight. Mom didn’t work, and we were a family of five living in a small rented cottage.”
“Your papa worked hard,” Abuela murmured. “He loved his family.”
Mattie wondered why they were building him up, and she feared he was in for a fall.
“I was spending the weekend with Abuela when he was killed, the night the rest of you disappeared.”
“I took care of Julia a lot,” Yolanda said. “It gave Ramona a break to have two kids to take care of instead of three.”
Mattie looked at Julia. “It all happened on the same night? His death and our disappearance?”
Julia nodded slowly. “I’ll tell you what I’ve learned over the years. At first we didn’t know anything.”
Her sister and grandmother looked at each other, and the older woman dipped her chin in a slight nod, as if giving permission
. “Our grandfather was working here in the U.S. with a green card, but Abuela was in the country illegally at the time. Grandpa passed away before they could become citizens, and well … she wasn’t equipped to handle the system in those days.”
“I was afraid,” Abuela said softly, and her tone told Mattie that even remembering that time could still frighten her. Mattie understood that phenomenon completely.
“So was our dad turning a blind eye to that situation?” Mattie asked quietly.
“Yes and no. He helped support Abuela while they looked into getting her citizenship. She was cleaning motel units at a seedy place, being paid under the table, but without her having a real job with a green card … it was a tough situation.”
“Your father was a good man,” Abuela said. “He had a kind heart.”
It was obvious that her father had been her grandmother’s hero, but he had been walking a fine line for a man in law enforcement. “So what happened after he died?”
Julia frowned. “Abuela struggled to keep us both in the States, working what jobs she could as a laborer in fields, motels, or restaurants and getting help from the church we went to. Eventually, she married a man who was a U.S. citizen. It took some time, but he helped her establish citizenship.” Julia and her grandmother locked eyes with each other, their look filled with love. “They raised me. Things might have been rocky at times, but I was always taken care of.”
Mattie couldn’t help but contrast the difference in their childhoods, hers overridden with fear while Julia’s had been uplifted with love. She wished she’d been left at their grandmother’s for the weekend along with her sister.
But then her mind did one of those crazy leaps back in time and flashed on a moment when her mother held her close and sang a lullaby, rocking her one night as they sat perched on the edge of the bed. Mattie might have been three or four.
She’d shared that moment with her mother only because they’d been together in the house of horrors that Harold Cobb had built. And her mind had given her back one of the good memories. A gift.
Hanging Falls Page 22
