For a second my breath stuck in my throat. The lapdog had some teeth after all. That was the problem with wimps. They had the courtesy patter down but they’d stab you in the back every time. Basic rule of survival dictated that one never leave the protection of a crowd. Once the thug had you alone, you were as good as dead.
I held my ground in the crowd buzzing around us. “Here’s fine.”
“There are too many ears.”
I narrowed my gaze at him. His dark hair, eyes and black pants and shirt gave him a demonic look he no doubt cultivated for intimidation purposes. But I wasn’t falling for it. Deep inside, wimps were, well, wimps, and their revenge came at the hands of others. “Just what is it you have at stake in Sofia’s death? Or at least in it staying uninvestigated?”
He shook a finger at me. “I was right. You are the instigator of all this trouble.” He poked the tip of the knife into my side. “Walk with me. You will get some answers.”
I snorted. “You’re not going to stab me in the middle of a crowd. Too messy. Tell me what you really want.”
His smile blinded as the tip of his knife pierced the first layer of skin under my last rib. “I want you to go back to your home but I have a feeling that is not going to happen. So I have a proposition for you—for our mutual benefit.”
My radar of suspicion went haywire. Wimps didn’t care about mutual benefit. If we were going to talk, we’d do it on my terms. I twisted my torso out of the line of the knife. At the same time I shoved Rey’s knife hand away from me. I grabbed his wrist and wrenched it until he had no choice but to let go. Then I quickly dropped the weapon into my tote before anyone could wonder what they might have seen.
“Okay, let’s walk.” I led him toward the exit.
We strode outside and sat on a bench near the Midnight, the Outlaw bronze. The strong sun beat on our backs. The foot traffic milling in and out of the building still gave me witnesses should he try something else. But if he had an accomplice perched somewhere, we made open targets.
Rey spit out his toothpick. “I allowed you to take my weapon only because I did not want to create a scene.”
“Sure, Rey, whatever you say. What did you mean by ‘forces are in motion to right wrongs’? Who do you work for?”
Rey’s face turned serious. “Sofia’s death was a tragedy. But it is merely a cog in a bigger concern. For her death to mean anything, the greater good must be served.”
“You’re really good at spewing out a lot of words that don’t mean much.”
His dark eyes burned hot with temper. “Your investigation is interfering.”
“With what?”
“Something bigger.”
“Spell it out, Rey.”
He shook his head. “I cannot.”
I threw up my hands. “Then I can’t stop looking, either.”
“You are making life difficult not only for yourself but for Wyatt, also.”
There he went with the subtle threats again. “Just what is Inez involved with?”
“Inez?” Faint lines of confusion wrinkled his brow. “She is simply a grieving mother.”
Was his concern for Inez based on guilt? “Did you kill Sofia?”
He shook his head, and sadness flitted across his eyes. “No, she was like a sister to me. I could never harm her.”
So he said. But how often did people tell the truth? In my business, not often. “Yet you threatened to cut her heart out of my chest.”
He shrugged. “I needed to make a point with you and Wyatt. Keep your nose out of Sofia’s business and there will be no need for me to hurt you.”
I slapped my thighs and made as if I were leaving. “Well, I’ll gladly stop investigating if you give me a good reason. So far all I’ve heard is a lot of hot air.”
“I am trying to help you.”
I shook my head. “Frankly, I’m not seeing a whole hell of a lot of help.”
His nostrils flared. “Tell me what you know.”
“What do I get in return? You promised me a ‘mutually beneficial proposition.’”
His dark eyes studied me with a note of pity. “You get to live.”
“Okay, well, in that case.” I stood up. “I’m so glad we had this little chat. It cleared up the whole situation for me.”
His hand snaked out and trapped my wrist hard enough to cut circulation. Surprising strength for someone so wiry. “We are not finished.”
“Wyatt’s class is going to be over soon. If your goal for this conversation was to warn me, then I got the message.” With a twist of my arm, I freed my wrist.
He fisted his hands. “Tell me what you know.”
Hands on hips, I gave Rey the Cliff’s Notes version. A gamble, I know, but maybe he’d give something away. “Sofia was killed in a deliberate hit-and-run accident. The data she was carrying was stolen. Now pilots are dying.”
He looked up at me. “Yes, and to find the truth, the people responsible for those deaths must be made to feel they are getting away with murder.”
“What people?”
He took a deep breath. “People even more dangerous than me. People with no scruples at all. If they get wind of your investigation, they will not warn you. You can ease your conscience by knowing that when the right time comes they will pay for what they have done.”
“Are you saying you’re law enforcement?” I asked, a sudden lightbulb going off in my head. That would certainly skew everything. And I’d be happy enough to let all this go.
No! Sofia’s fear landed like a medicine ball in my stomach.
She wasn’t being reasonable, but I had no control over the situation. I could leave. I could go back home, but Sofia would keep torturing me.
Rey flashed his white teeth. “I am saying that I cannot allow you to panic the people responsible for Sofia’s death. You have my word that her death will have meaning.”
I didn’t trust him. He was too oily, too cagey. “I’m not sure your word counts for much.”
“All you will do is stir the pot.”
I shrugged, but I was starting to feel in way over my head. “Maybe the pot needs stirring.”
Rey got up and his duck-slick hair glinted in the sunlight. “The decision, of course, is yours. I had hoped you would see reason for the sake of Sofia’s heart beating in your chest. But I see I was wrong.” His dark eyes narrowed. “Next time we meet, I may not be able to protect you.”
Chapter 8
Saturday, April 22
At breakfast Wyatt informed me he had business to deal with. Which was just as well because I was sure he wouldn’t approve of the way I planned to spend my day. I hadn’t learned much more from Glenda or from my late-night online exploring of Allied Defense’s Web site. Social engineering would mean another two-day delay. With Van on my case and my funds running low, that really wasn’t an option. If I was going to get anywhere, I needed solid information. The kind that I’d get only by eyeballing where Sofia had worked.
“Don’t worry about me.” I slanted Wyatt my most innocent look. “I have plenty to keep me busy.”
His gaze contracted to laser intensity. “Whatever you do, stay out of trouble.”
I raised my glass of orange juice at him. “But of course.”
I let Lorraine stuff me with an omelet oozing with vegetables and cheese, then excused myself.
Lorraine is going to worry. The thought crossed my mind as I slid behind the wheel of my rental. So is Wyatt once she tells him I’m gone.
But that couldn’t be helped if I was to solve Sofia’s problem. I pointed the car east on the highway.
Armed with a map, a large bottle of water and some snacks from a Mobil station outside of White Settlement, I hopped onto the loop that would take me around the Allied Defense plant. The terrain was flat. The trees were sparse. That gave me a clear view of the plant and its sprawl of sand-colored buildings.
At the first exit past the plant, I circled around and drove by for another pass. Then I wound my way through
side roads for a closer look. The east-side front gate was closed and manned by armed guards. So was the south-side entrance. I’d need a badge or an official invitation to get through either. Some sort of military reserve base lined the whole north side of the plant. Depending on how solidly it was guarded, getting through that way was a possibility. But as I explored the west side, I came upon a city park that bordered the plant on its northwest corner for a few hundred yards.
My arms got scratched from the thick choke of mesquites, and I didn’t even want to think about what kind of creepy crawly things my hiking boots squished or how many germs the dirt sticking to my skin carried. I made my way to the edge of the woods and found a clear view and an easy way into the site. Sort of. I didn’t know if the plant had always had a busy network of patrols or if they were added after the 9/11 frenzy, but sneaking past them was going to be tough.
Sofia hovered around me like an annoying mosquito, and I really wanted to swat her.
“How about a little help here, Sofia? The patrols, what do you know about them?”
Sofia shrugged.
Great. “Okay, walk me through this. Where did you work?”
Building 100.
“Which one is that?” I peered at the plant through the pair of miniature binoculars hanging from my neck.
On the other side of the assembly building.
“Okay, hang on.” I fought my way back out of the woods to my car and drove around to the parking lot of the bar outside the plant entrance where we’d met Paul on Thursday. In the lot, I arranged the map around me to play the lost tourist in case someone wondered why I was parked there for so long.
“Which floor?” I asked Sofia, raising the miniature binoculars to my eyes and focusing on the building with the flower boxes out front.
Basement bunker.
“Basement as in an underground location?”
A psychic nod.
“I thought you couldn’t build basements in Texas because of the soil.”
Expensive but not impossible.
I groaned. Getting to Building 100 from the city park would mean going by a row of outer maintenance buildings and coming all the way around the mile-long assembly building to midway around the other side. Cutting across the base would be much shorter.
“How busy is the base?”
A frizzle of confusion.
“How well is it guarded?” I scanned the base but couldn’t see any outward activity. Which didn’t mean it wasn’t guarded.
A growl of frustration.
“Did you notice anything while you worked here?”
A haughty huff.
Just what I needed—a ghost with an attitude.
I ignored her pressure to call Wyatt. I didn’t need any more complications. “Are there exits that lead directly out of the building from the bunker?”
Stairs or the elevator.
“Windows?”
The building is spy-proof.
“I don’t suppose you noticed security cameras.”
Sofia sniffed.
This wasn’t looking good. “Where’s the Human Resources building?”
Same building. First floor.
That might be doable. If I could get into the building. I hadn’t learned the name of Sofia’s replacement from Glenda, and the organization chart on the Web site left much to be desired. Probably on purpose.
“If you could walk into that building and into your work area,” I asked, “what would you need to check your numbers?”
My engineering journals.
“Where would I find them?”
In the project drawer.
A black pickup truck barreled into the bar’s parking lot, and the driver stared me down as if I were a would-be burglar.
I went back to looking confusedly at the map and forced a flinch when the driver knocked at my window. I rolled it down a couple of inches.
“Can I help ya?” His breath smelled of coffee, and crumbs from his lunch speckled his dark brown mustache.
“I think I’m lost,” I said with bubblehead breathiness and a Boston accent.
“Where you looking to get ta?”
“The Stockyards.” Pronounced with the required dropping of the R.
“You’re not as lost as you think.” He gestured with his hands as he pointed out his directions. “Get back on 183 going north. Up the road a spell, you’ll see signs.”
I beamed him my best smile. “Thanks.”
I fired the engine and took his advice, then turned around on the Jacksboro Highway to get back to the plant. I spent the rest of the day getting a handle on the security patrols. Unfortunately, the park still looked like my best entry point.
Just as I was despairing about getting into Sofia’s work area, I saw my chance. There was no time to lose, so I found a phone book and went shopping.
Sofia’s energy percolated around me like coffee in my grandfather’s old stove pot.
“Do you have a better idea?” I said out loud and got a strange look from a fellow shopper at Target, my last stop.
Sofia’s sigh was filled with confusion.
Preparations done, I found a small restaurant a short drive from the park and ordered a bite to eat.
With the tinny plink of a Mexican tune playing in the background and grease and cumin scenting the air, I checked in with Van. I didn’t want to risk him calling me at an inopportune time. Before I even got “hello” out, he lit into me. “You’ve been gone four days, Sierra. Where are you?”
“It’s better if you don’t know.” Especially considering what I was planning to do.
“How can it be better for me when I’m worrying myself sick? I’m going prematurely gray over here.”
“That’ll make you look distinguished. A plus for a lawyer, I hear.”
He grumbled. “That’s not funny. How long is your couple of days going to stretch?”
I hated lying to him but I really didn’t know. “A couple more.”
“You are going to be the death of me.”
“I hope not. Listen, I have to go. I just wanted to check in like I promised.”
Knowing that if he pushed too much, I’d conveniently forget my promise, he relented a bit. “Do you have enough medicine to last you through?”
“I have enough for a couple more weeks.” I swirled the straw in my glass of water. “I’ll be home before then.” I hope.
“Sierra.” Van stretched my name out on a resigned sigh. “Take care of yourself.”
“You, too, Van.”
My next call was even harder to make. Knowing I’d be out late, I didn’t want Wyatt to worry and put out an APB on me, so I felt obliged to check in at the ranch, too. Which was starting to give me a handcuffed sensation—not good for an independent woman.
Just like Van, Wyatt’s bark bit me before I could say anything. “Where the hell are you?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but some place called Casa Angelita. The chips are a little too salty but the salsa’s nice and hot.”
Wyatt swore, which took me a little by surprise. I didn’t think he had it in him to throw words like that around. “I told you to stay out of trouble. That place is a drug den.”
My gaze circled the cheerful red-covered tables filled with parents and kids. Of course, there was the sniffling skinny guy wriggling by the hostess stand as if he had fleas in his big brother’s pants. “It’s a family place.”
“With a little extra takeout on the side.”
“That’s okay, I brought my own.”
He wasn’t amused. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Wyatt, no—”
But he’d already hung up. So much for trying to be nice. I could leave and keep him guessing, but I was afraid he’d make more trouble looking for me than if I just waited for him. I flagged the waiter and had him set another place and double my order of burritos. By the time Wyatt stormed into the cantina, the burritos were landing on the table.
“Just what are
you up to?” he asked, his mouth tight. He ignored the food.
I gave him a short synopsis of my day and my plan to visit Sofia’s work area.
“That’s breaking and entering,” he said in a low, harsh voice. “Do you know the kind of trouble you could get into if you got caught?”
I shrugged. “I’ll just have to make sure I don’t get caught.”
He thumped a finger on the tabletop, making the salsa bowl jump. “You could go to prison.”
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“There are guards with guns running around there.” A blue-norther had nothing on Wyatt’s voice when it came to ice. “They’ll shoot first and ask questions later. The risk is too great.”
He couldn’t seem to remember that I hadn’t asked for this case but had been drafted into it against my will by a damn ghost.
“I’m not planning on dying tonight.” I attacked my dinner as if I, indeed, needed sustenance for the long run. “You should eat up before the food gets cold.”
Something in his eyes flared. “Is this how you run your business?”
I sawed another bite off my burrito with the side of my fork. I wasn’t going to let him get to me. “I’m always aware of the legal ramifications of my actions,” I said, voice even. “I work mostly for lawyers and insurance companies. So I have to. But this is different.”
“I don’t see how. If you mess up, Sofia’s killer could go free, and you’ll end up behind bars. Somehow I doubt industrial spying comes with a slap on the wrist.”
I threw my fork at the plate. So much for keeping cool. “It’s a matter of life and death. Pilots are dying, Wyatt.”
“I get that, and I’m all for—”
“And if Sofia is right and there’s an error with the HART, then they’re being used as pawns in a game of national security proportion.”
“Now you’re just being plain dramatic,” Wyatt said.
Lucky for him we were in public and slugging him would bring me more attention than I wanted at the moment. “Don’t you want to know what’s wrong with the airplane your sister straps on for a living? Don’t you want to stop them from dropping out of the sky? Isn’t Tracy worth the risk?”
Sofia gasped.
Detour Page 11
