by Paula Paul
When she was back inside the house, Harriet’s enthusiasm was tempered with caution, however. “The battery cables? Well, that’s good news, I guess,” she said. “But you’re not thinking of driving back on that awful road in the dark, are you? Shouldn’t we wait until morning?”
“I have headlights,” Irene said with a show of impatience. “I’ll be able to see all the twists and turns in the road.”
“There’s a storm coming.”
“The storm is in the distance. I think it’s moved on,” Irene said. “There’s nothing more than a light sprinkle out there now.”
Harriet shook her head. “You never know about storms in the mountains. They can come up so quickly. Why don’t we wait a few minutes?”
Irene hesitated, unwilling to waste any more time. Finally, she sighed and said, “All right. Ten minutes, then we’re leaving.”
Harriet gave her a relieved smile. “I’ll make us some sandwiches and tea. I saw everything I need in the kitchen.”
Irene refrained from rolling her eyes, even after Harriet had left. She sat down on one of the sofas and looked around the room. There was no television set, probably because there was no reception this far into the mountains. She picked up a magazine on a table next to the sofa and leafed through it. It featured stories about guns and scopes and other hunting paraphernalia. Just as she put it aside, she heard a loud clap of thunder, and in the same moment, lightning crackled and illuminated the darkness outside the window enough that she could clearly see tall pines swaying in the wind. She swore under her breath and paced the floor. By the time Harriet re-emerged with sandwiches and a bottle of wine on a tray, rain was pouring steadily.
“Here we are,” Harriet said, as she set the tray on a table. At least she refrained from sounding cheerful. “Oh, and I found this,” she said, indicating the wine and two glasses on the tray. “I thought it might calm us a little.”
Irene reached for the bottle and poured the dark red liquid into the two glasses. “It’s not going to stop, is it?” She handed Harriet a glass.
“Probably not for a while. George and I have been up here when it rained for two days without stopping.” Her face was pale as she stared at Irene over her wineglass. “I hope Adelle is inside somewhere.”
“Yes.” Irene didn’t want to say that her hope was that Adelle was alive. She drank the wine and poured herself another glass before she took a bite of the sandwich Harriet had provided. Tuna salad. Quite tasty. She took another bite.
“I know you’re supposed to serve white wine with fish,” Harriet said, “but I thought red wine seemed better for a night like this.”
For the first time since they’d arrived, Irene smiled. Harriet was trying hard to help her feel at ease.
“Something stronger is what we really need,” Harriet added, “but I couldn’t find anything like that in the kitchen.”
“The wine is perfect,” Irene said. She took another bite of the sandwich. Harriet, she noticed, hadn’t touched hers, and there was a long silence before she spoke again.
“We’re going to have to spend the night.”
“Looks like it.”
“I’m not sleeping in a room by myself in this house,” Harriet said.
Irene gave her a surprised look. Harriet, unlike her own mother, had never seemed to be the skittish type.
“It’s creepy,” Harriet added. “There’s something not right here. That big locked room with a metal door in the basement. There could be bodies in there, or something worse.”
“Good Lord, Harriet!”
“There’s got to be a room up there with twin beds.” As an afterthought, she added, “I don’t snore.”
Irene put her sandwich down and stood, pacing the room again. “We’ve got to be ready to leave as soon as it’s light.” She didn’t add if the storm has passed. She was intent on believing it would.
Harriet, who had gotten to her feet as well, nodded. Her face had grown even paler. Without a word, she began putting the plates and glasses on the tray.
“While you’re doing that, I’ll go upstairs and find a suitable room,” Irene said. She started toward the stairway, but turned back. “Harriet.”
“Yes?”
“What could be worse than bodies in that locked room?”
“I don’t know,” Harriet said. “I don’t want to think about it.”
—
Within a few minutes, they were both upstairs in a room with twin beds. Harriet had rummaged around until she found one of Susana’s nightgowns, but Irene slipped into bed in her panties and the T-shirt she’d worn all day.
The sky roared its thunder and threw flaming knives at the ground and treetops.
“We could have a forest fire,” Harriet said. “We could die.”
“Don’t think about that,” Irene said.
Harriet was quiet for a while. The rain had slowed, but an evil spirit wind grew angry and screamed as it tried to push down trees. “I hate the wind.” Harriet sounded mournful. “I wish it would stop.”
Harriet’s words reminded Irene of her grandmother Teresa’s words. Make a wish or shoot an arrow into its heart; nothing stops the wind. She said nothing aloud. She was thinking of Adelle. Caught in the storm? Dead? Don’t think about it, she reminded herself.
“Where do you think she is?” Harriet asked, as if she were reading Irene’s thoughts.
“I wish I knew.”
“What if she’s…” Harriet let her thought trail off, unspoken. She was silent again for a long moment until a burst of thunder startled her. She cried out briefly, then spoke again. “It was Loraine first and then Susana. Both dead. Now Adelle is missing. I’ll be next.”
“Harriet, don’t—”
“I’m sorry, hon. I shouldn’t have said anything. We have to keep thinking positive, don’t we?”
Irene, almost frozen now with worry, didn’t answer.
Chapter 10
It was barely dawn when Irene got out of bed. She had slept little, if at all. The rain, along with crackling lightning and loud thunder, hadn’t stopped until well after midnight. It wasn’t raining at the moment, but she knew it would be best to wait until there was more light before they left. The road was treacherous enough in full light, and the rain would have made it worse than it had been the day before.
She was just pulling on her jeans when she heard the chime of a doorbell. The sound caused Harriet to sit up suddenly. Her eyes were wide, her expression a mixture of fright and confusion. Her tangled, Medusa hair only added to her startled look.
“What was that noise?”
“A doorbell,” Irene said.
“Should we answer it?”
Irene zipped her jeans and started toward the door. “Yes. It may be news about Adelle.”
“But it may be dangerous. It could be…”
Irene didn’t hear the rest of Harriet’s warning. Her bare feet made soft pat-pat sounds as she ran down the wide expanse of the stairway. The doorbell chimed again as she reached the bottom. She paused at the door and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself, since she wasn’t sure what she’d find when she opened the door.
A Hispanic man stood in front of her, holding a western-style hat in his hands. He looked to be sixty years old or more. It was the same man who had escorted Adelle and Harriet out of the bar. The one Adelle had flirted with. The one she had called Rafael.
“Buenos Dias, Señorita Seligman. Soy Rafael Lopez. Tu mamá, Señora Seligman, está bien?”
Irene’s Spanish was rusty. She hadn’t used it at all since she left Santa Fe to live in New York, but she knew the man was asking if her mother was all right.
“Mi mamá? No sé dónde está. Do you know where she is?” She reverted to English, since anxiety made it even more difficult for her to think and speak in Spanish.
“I seen her in a car.” His English was heavily accented. “I don’t think she wanted to be in it. I am thinking she tried to signal me.”
“You s
aw her?” She took Rafael’s arm and pulled him inside. “Where? In a car? Why was she in a car?”
“No sé por qué. I don’t know why she was in the car, but I think she was scared,” Rafael said.
“Where? Where was the car?” Irene was growing more and more anxious.
“In Pecos. She was in a blue car that stopped at the bar. But the bar was closed, and I was leaving. That’s when I seen her. The lights in the car, they came on when the man opened the door, so I could see her face. There was another man and a woman, I think, in the car with her.”
“Another man and a woman?” Likely the woman they’d found in the lodge, the woman who had bought the dress in her store. “Sit down,” she said, directing him toward the living room. “Tell me everything.”
“Sí. Una mujer y un hombre. I could only see for a second before the door closed, but I know she wanted me to help her.”
“Why didn’t you?” Irene couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice.
“I tried. I started to go to the car, but the man was coming back. He was mad because the bar was closed. He told me to go away. He had a gun, señorita. I was afraid. I seen it. I seen the gun.”
“You should have called the police!”
“Oh, sí. I call the sheriff, but he was drunk, so I get my pickup and try to find them myself.” Rafael shrugged. “No luck. The sky was making rain, and the rain didn’t stop even when I got almost to Santa Fe, and I never seen the car. Maybe it stopped along the road somewhere. Like at the museum at the battlefield. So I drive back real slow to look.” He shook his head. “Nada. I find nothing. The rain is too much for me to come here to tell you, so I have to wait until it stops.”
“How did you know to come here?”
Rafael shrugged. “Señora Adelle, when I first meet her in the bar, she told me this is where she was going.”
Obviously Adelle had spent some time talking to the man, which was something Irene could easily imagine. Her mother was a notorious flirt, and she wouldn’t have been able to resist a man whose years had made him even more handsome than he must have been in his youth.
“Oh, it’s you!” Harriet walked into the room, dressed in the clothes she’d worn the day before.
Rafael stood when she entered. “Señora Harriet,” he said, giving her a slight bow.
“What…are you doing here?” She was blushing.
“He saw Adelle. In Pecos last night. Apparently, she’s been kidnapped.”
Harriet sucked in her breath audibly. “Kidnapped? Is she…she’s not dead, is she?”
“Oh, God, I hope not.” Irene’s voice was choked.
“You should tell the police in Santa Fe,” Rafael said. “Maybe they can find her.”
Harriet seemed unable to respond. All she could do was stare at Rafael, her mouth open in horror.
“Get your purse, Harriet. We’re getting out of here.” Irene had already started for the door.
“No es posible, Rafael said. “Not in that car.” He motioned with his head toward Irene’s car parked in front. “The rain. It makes roads bad. You need four-wheel drive.”
Irene paused, feeling defeated.
“It’s okay. I will drive you,” Rafael said, seeing the look on her face.
“But my car…”
Rafael shrugged. “You have friends, no? They can drive you up when the roads dry.”
Irene hesitated for only a moment before she moved toward the door again. She had no idea who could bring her to retrieve her car, but finding Adelle was more important. “All right. Let’s go,” she said.
Harriet pulled her back and whispered, “What if it’s not safe? What if he…”
“We have to take the chance,” Irene said, pushing Harriet ahead of her. “We have to trust our instincts.”
Harriet balked. “But my instinct is that it’s not—”
“Go!” Irene pushed Harriet out the door and, along with Rafael, helped her into the mud-covered pickup parked in front.
It took only a few minutes for Irene to see how right Rafael was about the road—or ruts, in this case. There was no doubt her car would have stalled in the mud or slipped off a cliff if she’d made any attempt to drive out of the mountains. The three of them were crowded together in the front seat, with Harriet in the middle, her thigh pressed against Rafael’s. He drove slowly, but the road, made up of muddy, slippery ruts, made the ride a rough one as they bumped and slammed against one another. Finally, after a grueling hour, they reached the paved section of road just outside the village of Pecos.
Rafael grinned and glanced at the two women. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Irene gave him a weak smile. She felt sore and exhausted from sitting with tensed muscles all the way. Harriet was white-faced and silent, and she looked as if she might faint.
Rafael hardly slowed his pickup before he made a sharp turn into the town’s one gas station. “Got to have gas,” he said and climbed out of the driver’s seat. He waved to someone inside the station who apparently turned on the pump. After he stuck the nozzle into his gas tank, he disappeared inside the station.
“Oooh,” Harriet moaned, and slumped in the seat.
“You all right?” Irene asked.
Harriet closed her eyes. “I don’t know. I just want to go home.”
Irene’s instinct was to reply, I want my mama, but she said nothing. She had never used that phrase in her life, had never even felt protected by her mother. Now, she wanted more than anything she could imagine to see Adelle’s surgically shaped and chemically peeled face.
Rafael returned to the pickup carrying a greasy bag full of breakfast burritos that he had bought in the gas station and warmed in a microwave. Two steaming cups of coffee were balanced in his other hand.
“I think you didn’t eat breakfast,” he said, handing Harriet the bag. “Burritos con huevos,” he said. “Good for you.”
“Gracias.” Irene accepted one of the burritos oozing eggs, greasy bacon, and green chile, and bit into it. It tasted like gas-station microwave food. At least the coffee was hot, but she was too worried to be hungry. By the time they reached Santa Fe half an hour later, she’d eaten no more than two bites.
“Police station first,” Rafael said, as he sped by the exit that would have taken them into town, where Irene’s ancestral home was located.
“Oh, no, please. I want to go home,” Harriet whined.
Rafael gave Irene a questioning look, and Irene responded with “Police station first.”
Harriet slumped in her seat and said nothing as Rafael made his way along the freeway to the Cerrillos Road exit that would take them to Santa Fe’s only police station. It was located on the edge of town, several miles away from the plaza where Irene’s store was located. They walked inside together, with Irene dragging a reluctant and obviously exhausted Harriet.
The receptionist in the front office looked up from her computer when they entered and gave the three of them a chamber-of-commerce smile, then asked how she could help. Since they had entered through the front public entrance, rather than the back door for prisoners and “persons of interest,” they were in a different room and were met with a different attitude from what Irene had encountered before.
Irene spoke before the other two had a chance. “We want to report a kidnapping.”
The receptionist nodded as if it was something she heard every day. “I’ll get an officer, and you can make a report,” she said.
“I want to see Chief Iglesias,” Irene said.
“I’m sorry, but the chief is in a meeting with the mayor. I’ll call Officer Vine. I’m sure he’ll be able to—”
“I want to see the chief,” Irene said, louder this time.
“Ma’am, if you will just—”
“My mother has been kidnapped, and I have reason to believe it is related to those two women who were murdered. I want to see Chief Iglesias now. You can tell him my name is Irene Seligman.”
The receptionist’s eyes narrowed slightl
y, but she managed to bring back her well-practiced smile, along with a polite “Just a moment,” before she disappeared behind one of the locked doors. She emerged after only a few minutes and told them she would show them to Chief Iglesias’s office.
“You don’t need me,” Rafael said, backing toward the door. “I’ll come again later and take you home.”
“No, you must come with us,” Irene said. “You’re a witness. The last person to see Adelle.”
Rafael gave her a reluctant nod and followed the three women past the door and down a hall to an office near the rear of the building.
Andy Iglesias was seated behind a large desk and looked up when they entered. “Irene!” He stood, and for moment Irene thought he was going to embrace her. He glanced at Harriet. “Mrs. Baumgarten,” he said, and extended a hand to her. “Nice to see you again.” He looked at Rafael, who had already taken a seat in one of the chairs, his hat resting in the chair next to him. “Hello, Mr. Lopez,” he said. “What’s this all about?”
“It’s about my mother.” Irene was doing her best not to dissolve into hysterics. “She’s been kidnapped.”
The chief raised an eyebrow. “Adelle Daniels? Kidnapped? Are you sure? Knowing Adelle, she may have decided just to go someplace and not bothered to tell anyone.”
“You don’t know her as well as you might think.”
Iglesias smiled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound flip.”
“I will admit that my mother is a bit unconventional when compared to most women, but she would not leave under the circumstances she was in this time.”
“Listen to her, Andrew.” Harriet sounded both angry and pleading.
At the same time, Rafael shook his head and spoke. “Señora Daniels is in trouble.”
Andy’s face became more serious. “What kind of trouble? Explain this to me, Irene.”
“We were in the Pecos Wilderness at the Delgados’ Mariposa hunting lodge when she disappeared,” Irene said. “I have reason to believe someone took her, because we saw a car—”
