by Meryl Sawyer
“Bikers on Harleys,” Claire interrupted. “They’ve been in town for several days. I think they’re friends of Bam Stegner.”
Tohono’s grizzled brow contracted as he nodded his head. “Stegner. The bear. I see what this is about.”
Instantly Claire knew who had helped Zach liberate the bear, but now wasn’t the time to thank the older man for rescuing an abused animal. God help her, she had been the one to get Zach into this mess. Undoubtedly, Stegner had heard about Claire’s alibi. Putting two and two together, Bam Stegner knew Zach had been instrumental in freeing the bear.
With startling clarity she recalled Bam exploding into her gallery the morning after his bear had been taken. She had never expected him to confront her in public, yet he had. Then he’d put the deadly rattlesnake into her mailbox. She had escaped injury—thanks to Zach. And he’d taken on Bam Stegner to protect her from any further harm.
But what had he done to protect himself? Nothing. She knew that without giving it a second thought. His whole life Zach had stood alone. He hadn’t expected anyone to help him.
Bam Stegner’s visit to the jail had seemed odd to her at the time, and she had wondered why the bear was so important to him. Now, the reason was clear. Bam had an ego the size of the Hindenburg, yet he was a coward. After Zach had roughed him up, extracting a promise not to hurt her, Bam Stegner had bided his time. He’d called in his markers, rounding up bikers from God only knew where.
They’d caught Zach alone—and off guard.
“They could have killed Zach right here,” Paul said, his voice pitched low yet charged with emotion. “But they didn’t. They took him somewhere.”
“You are right, my son,” Tohono agreed. “The trackers from the pueblo will help us.”
“I hope it’s not too late,” Angela told Tohono. “Do you have any idea when this happened?”
“I am not an expert in reading the signs, but the blood is no longer red. It is now almost black, but still wet. I would say the men rode up just after dawn.”
Claire hung her head, remembering the crimson glow of the sun as it rose above Taos Mountain, clear and bright and warm, flooding her room with the first rays of light. She’d been worried about herself, cursing Zach for not telling her that he had been the man at The Hideaway.
Could she possibly have been so self-centered?
You bet. From the day Zach had walked into her gallery, she had thought only of herself. She had looked at the world from her point of view, rarely considering his. If only she hadn’t been so upset last night after learning Zach had been the man with her in The Hideaway, she would have made Zach spend the night. They would have talked and she would have told him about Bam’s visit.
The group went inside and Tohono immediately telephoned the trackers and called in the Mounted Patrol to assist them. Then Paul contacted Brad Yeager and asked for help.
Claire sat on the sofa, gazing at the magnificent bronze owl. She’d never been so helpless in her entire life. Bam was a coward, but a sneaky one. It wasn’t going to be easy to find Zach. When they did, it might be too late.
Thirty-three
It seemed as if days passed before the trackers arrived, but Angela informed Claire that it had been less than an hour. The pueblo men were examining the tracks in front of Zach’s home when Brad Yeager drove up. He stood transfixed as they explained what had happened.
Tohono joined them. “The trackers tell me that eight or nine motorcycles drove down this road. There was a fight. Five perhaps six men were involved and a dog.”
Claire squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, imagining Zach fighting, outnumbered, battling to save his life. With no one to help him but his dog.
“There are odd marks like spurs but sharper—”
“Bam has new stiletto spurs,” Claire cried.
“Ah, yes,” Tohono said. “Spurs filed sharp like knives. Bloody spurs.”
“Oh, my God.” Claire gripped the sofa’s arm for support. “Lobo went after Bam. He kicked him with those deadly spurs and almost put Lobo’s eye out. The vet doesn’t know if he’s going to live.”
A hush fell over the room, and Claire knew everyone was imagining Zach on the ground being pummeled by the lethal spurs.
“Arrest Stegner,” Angela said. “Make him tell you where Zach is.”
“He’ll stonewall,” Claire said. “He’s sneaky. He’ll cover his tracks.”
“You’re right,” Brad agreed. “Arresting Stegner will get us nowhere. Not letting him know we suspect, and following him, might help us find Zach.”
“They took Zach away on a motorcycle,” Tohono said. “My men followed the tracks up the gravel road to where the asphalt begins.”
“They can’t pick up anything on the pavement,” Yeager said. “Where would they take him?”
“They have him in a place where only motorcycles can go or they would not have come for him on these motorcycles. Does this not make sense? That is why I called the Mounted Patrol. On their horses, they can check the forest service trails,” Tohono said.
“You’re right,” Paul said. “Those trails are all dirt. If the bikers are on them, there will be signs.”
“Oh, Christ!” Brad Yeager dropped into a chair. “There must be thousands of those trails.”
We’ll never find him alive. The unsaid words hung in the air like a vision of hell.
“I’ve spent a lot of time recently riding those trails.” Paul broke the anguished silence. “I can tell you many of them aren’t in good enough condition to ride a motorcycle on. Harley owners take great pride in those hogs. They’re not going to bust them up. Let’s get a Forest Service map and red-line the trails that are usable. Have the Mounted Patrol and the trackers check those first.”
“Good idea,” Angela said, jumping up. “I’m going to call the Kit Carson Ranger Station and have them bring out detailed maps immediately.”
Brad Yeager studied the bronze owl perched high over the table. “Why did they take him? Why not beat him up here?”
Or kill him here. Again the unspoken words hung in the air even more chilling because they hadn’t been said out loud.
“Bam’s going to torture Zach until he tells where the bear is,” Claire said before her throat locked up. She was more frightened now than she’d been in jail when she believed circumstantial evidence would send her to prison. She had known how important the bear was to Bam, yet she had failed to warn Zach.
“Zach will never tell,” Tohono informed them.
Claire agreed; Zach was too stubborn, too tough. He’d die before he would tell. But how much would he suffer before he died?
“Every man has a breaking point,” Paul said.
“True, so true,” Brad added. “At some point even the toughest men give up.”
“Zach cannot tell,” Tohono insisted. “He and I stole the bear, but I am the one who drove Khadafi away. Only I know where the bear is now.”
The Forest Service maps arrived, and Paul marked off the most usable trails. Tohono and Claire divided the Mounted Patrol into teams and assigned a tracker to each. Yeager left for town without saying what he was doing. Angela manned the telephone and marked off Forest Service trails as the trackers called in eliminating trails they’d checked.
By late afternoon, most of the accessible trails had been inspected. No Harley tracks had been found on any of them. Brad Yeager returned to report that Bam Stegner wasn’t around. The bartender at Hogs and Heifers claimed his boss was in Santa Fe on business.
“I acted as if my questions had to do with the Morrell case,” Yeager told them. They were all gathered in Zach’s living room where a map had been taped to the bronze owl. “I don’t want Stegner to think we’re after him … yet.”
“I don’t see what difference it makes,” Claire said, her tone bitter, desperate. “Zach has been missing almost half a day. If he’s still alive, how much longer can he hold out?”
“I say we get Stegner, take him on the reservation beyond
anyone’s jurisdiction and beat the crap out of him until he tells,” Paul said.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear what you said,” Brad told them. “If a felony is committed on the reservation, the FBI gets the case. That’s me.”
“Careful, Paul,” warned Angela. “You could go to jail again.”
Paul shrugged. “Zach helped me when I needed it. I can’t turn my back on him.”
Tohono held up his hand. “Violence only begets violence. Why speak of it? Agent Yeager tells us Bam Stegner is not around. We are wasting valuable time discussing violence.”
“I don’t believe the bartender. Bam’s around somewhere.” Frustrated, Claire jumped to her feet. Her knee hit the coffee table and the bronze lurched to one side before she could grab it. With a thunk, it landed on the floor. “Oh, my God, did I break it?”
Paul retrieved the bronze and pulled off the map. “The only weak spot is where the owl’s feet curl around the branch. It’s okay.”
Claire sat down again, her hand on her throbbing knee. “I’d never forgive myself if I were the one to ruin the bronze Zach’s father left him.”
Angela and Paul exchanged an odd look. Tohono and Brad seemed perplexed as well. All of them were now looking at her strangely.
“Zach’s father didn’t sculpt the owl,” Paul said. “Zach did; he has a dozen more out back in his studio. He’s tremendously talented.”
“Yes,” Tohono agreed. “Even as a child, he would whittle kachinas out of cottonwood and paint them. Most were better than those done by his elders.”
“This was his first bronze,” Brad put in. “That’s why he didn’t sign it. He didn’t think it was his best work, but it was his favorite because it was his first.”
“Zach,” she said, the word barely audible.
Zach an artist? An exceptionally talented artist. This contradicted everything she’d thought about him. He seemed rough, ruthless, hardly the sort of man to observe every minute detail of a rare owl, then painstakingly reproduce the creature. The piece must have taken months of study and many more months to execute.
It would take an extremely high level of sensitivity and patience. Words she did not associate with Zach. Wait, Claire mentally stopped herself. Was she being like her father, stubbornly clinging to her personal version of reality?
Sensitive. Gentle. Tender.
Words she did not link with the name Zach Coulter. Because she had preconceived ideas about the man. She looked around her, silently observing his friends. All of them knew he was a gifted sculptor, yet she did not. Worse, she hadn’t even suspected he was an artist.
And she’d never even considered that he might have been the man in The Hideaway. Sensitive. Caring. Those were the impressions she’d been left with after that night. But those impressions hadn’t fit the image she’d had of Zach, an image she’d stubbornly harbored all this time.
It reminded her of the years she’d spent believing her mother’s affair with Jake Coulter had been nothing but a short fling. If she’d listened to her heart, it would have told her how loyal and loving her mother had been. For her to have broken her wedding vows, Jake Coulter must have been the love of her life.
“Claire?” Angela gently touched her arm. “Tohono was telling us that the Mounted Patrol will have to quit soon. It’s getting dark. The trackers won’t be able to see either.”
Before she could respond, the telephone rang. The call was for Brad Yeager. He listened, nodding, then hung up.
“I put out a Comfax when I went into town,” he told them.
Earlier the special agent had told them about the Law Enforcement Comfax linked to the FBI computers in their regional offices. Bulletins were downloaded three times a day. Law enforcement incidents, even minor ones, throughout the state were recorded, then transmitted to local authorities. That way other agencies like the highway patrol and sheriffs in different counties would be aware of problems.
“A motorcycle gang was stopped for speeding and noise violations near the Arizona border. The Highway Patrol didn’t have enough to hold them, but the officer did ascertain that the group had spent the night here. He checked IDs. Stegner wasn’t with them … neither was Zach.”
“Stegner just used those men to corner Zach.” Paul’s voice was bitter. “Then they hightailed it out of town.”
“Bam has Zach around here somewhere,” Claire added. “Where?”
“Let’s be logical and methodical,” Brad said. “Get the Mounted Patrol off their horses and into cars. Have them go door to door in the less-populated area outside of town. Someone must have seen something.”
Tohono stood. “I will have the Tribal Police check with those who do not live at the pueblo. Many live on the reservation in hogans far from each other where their sheep have room to graze.”
“We’ll check around town, asking at cafes and bars,” Angela said.
Claire was so heartsick, she could hardly speak. They were just grasping at straws in the wind. The more time passed, the less likely they were to find Zach alive. Bam Stegner had been committing crimes for so long, and getting away with it, he wasn’t likely to be caught easily.
“Claire,” Yeager said. “I want you to stay here. I’ll have people phone in their information. You write down where everyone has been. That way we won’t miss anything, or check the same area twice.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Claire agreed, anxious to have something useful to do. She stopped the agent before he walked out the door. “I understand Zach was responsible for getting Vanessa Trent to confess.”
“Yes, he exceeded his authority to do it, but his bluff worked.” The agent’s voice was full of admiration.
“He saved me,” she said, her voice low and charged with emotion. “I could have been convicted on circumstantial evidence, but he gave me an alibi. That’s what this is all about, you know. Stegner had no idea who stole his bear until Zach admitted he had been at The Hideaway on the night of the murder.”
The agent studied her a moment, then asked, “You really care about Zach, don’t you?”
Even though Brad Yeager was little more than a stranger, she had no trouble admitting, “I love Zach. If anything happens to him, it’ll be my fault. I should have warned him.”
“He knows you love him,” Brad assured her. “That’ll give him courage.”
She watched the agent walk away, heartsick because Zach did not know how much she loved him. For all he knew, he had no friends. No one to care.
But people were concerned about him, she thought, encouraged by the number of people who had come out to his home, offering help. If only Zach knew, she thought, but he probably thought no one had even missed him yet.
We’re here. Don’t give up hope, darling.
In a matter of minutes, Claire was left alone with Lucy. The dog gazed at her mournfully, and Claire remembered Lobo. She quickly called the vet to see how the dog was doing. She spoke with the doctor, then sat on the floor beside Lucy.
“Good news, sweetie.” She stroked Lucy’s golden fur. “Lobo is going to make it. He’s one tough dog.” Lucy licked her cheek as if she understood. “He won’t be the handsome devil he once was because they had to sew his ear on, but at least he’s alive.”
At least he’s alive. The thought echoed in her brain as she clutched the portable telephone and wandered out to the wooden shed. She had thought it was a storeroom, but Paul had called it Zach’s studio. With Lucy at her side, Claire uncovered a number of bronze statues, each more beautiful than the next.
“Here’s the artist I’ve been looking for,” she told her dog. “Incredibly talented. But why didn’t he ever mention his interest in art?”
She found another piece sitting on a shelf covered with a towel. A bust of a woman, she decided, seeing the back of the head with long, wavy hair. The work was so fine, so lovingly done that each strand of hair was visible, which was unusual in a bronze. She turned it and found herself nose to nose with her mother.
&nbs
p; Claire took a quick step back, bumping into Lucy. She put her hand down to pet the retriever. “It’s not mother. It’s me.”
She inspected the bronze closely and found it was an astonishing likeness. He’d even caught the way her nose canted to one side—just slightly. And her lips were a bit fuller than she liked them. But it was the expression he’d used, that truly captivated her. She looked happy, yet alluring in a provocatively sexy way.
“Is that how Zach sees me?” she asked Lucy.
He’d signed this piece she noticed, checking the base. She took a second look at the date. Why, he’d done this bronze while he’d been living in San Francisco. He hadn’t forgotten about her, the way she had assumed, then become interested again when he’d returned home.
I’ve always been crazy about you.
How could she have misjudged him so badly? All right, he should have told her about the night in The Hideaway … at some point. When? When had she given him reason to trust her enough to confide in her?
He might have told her had she explained that she’d gone to her father. But she hadn’t wanted to put any pressure on him. Later, when she was in jail, she didn’t tell Zach that her father had again refused to help her because she was seeing him.
She had attempted to close the bridge between them by telling her father, but Zach never knew it. Now, she wondered if he ever would.
“Hello! Hello!” called someone.
Claire dashed out of the studio, Lucy at her heels. Maude Pfister was standing in Zach’s yard.
“I came to see if you needed help,” the older woman said.
“Where’s my father?”
Maude shrugged, her expression solemn. “I heard what you told him. I thought about it all day. I, for one, am taking your advice. I’m getting a life. I’ve been your father’s nurse for almost ten years. In truth, our relationship went way beyond that. But does he want to marry me? No. I gave notice after you left. The agency has sent a new nurse.”
“Where are you going?”
Maude’s forced smile brought a rush of affection to Claire. Maude was a wonderful person. She was truly going to miss her, but she deserved a better life than loving a man who was obsessed by a dead woman who had never loved him.
