The first thing I noticed was a wicker basket like the one in my cabin. I pulled off the lid, only to find an impressive pile of soiled underwear and socks. I already knew all of the potential hiding places, having scoped them out in my own cabin, but I took my time just the same, in case Coach was somehow more imaginative than I thought. I checked the drawers, to no avail, the closet, the shower, beneath the toilet tank lid, the pots and pans, the freezer and fridge. I peered inside the lamp shades and beneath the throw rugs. I went through his pockets, tapped the walls for secret hiding places covered by drywall or plaster, and finally, only because it was the only thing I hadn't checked, I slid my hand beneath the mattress.
Coach's gun was only two inches from the edge of the bed. This ticked me off. Any idiot would've checked there first, which was precisely why I hadn't looked there. For some reason, I'd given Coach more credit than he was due. But I wasn't sure which one of us that made the stupider.
I sighed and hefted the pistol — a Colt .45, not unlike my own. I thumbed open the chamber and checked to see if any bullets had been spent. The chamber was full. Which didn't mean squat, I knew. If Coach had recently fired the gun, he could've easily reloaded. But in my search of his cabin, I hadn't come across any ammunition. Of course, that didn't mean he didn't hide it somewhere else.
I slid the gun back where I'd found it and looked around the cabin one last time, wondering if I'd missed something. There was not a single trace of Annie Sisson. No love letter, no stray pair of panties, no lipstick-stained shirt collar, nothing. The only thing remotely interesting in Coach's cabin was the gun hidden beneath his mattress. That and the fact that he'd apparently taken his odious cattle prod with him.
I thought of Grade, hoping that she wouldn't do anything to put herself in danger. But even with his prod, I'd put my money on Grade anytime. I let myself out the front door and locked it behind me. Jo was standing on the front porch, shivering.
"Find anything?"
"Not what I hoped for. But your buddy, Coach, does keep a gun under his mattress."
"He probably needs it when he tracks the kids," she said. "I mean, there are cougars out there."
"I suppose you're right, " I said, privately thinking that a Colt .45 wouldn't be my weapon of choice for defense against a cougar. "You cold?" I slipped an arm across her shoulder and started toward the cabin. She was still sleeveless and her skin was cool to the touch. It seemed like ages since Grade and I had watched her paint on her porch.
"Not anymore," she said. "I get next to you, I'm on fire."
"Hmmm."
"You don't believe me?" She moved her lips next to my ear, whispering, raising goosebumps on my neck. "You want to feel how hot I am for you?" She took my hand and moved it against the crotch of her Levis. "Can you feel that?" she whispered.
"Jo," I managed. We had stopped walking and now she reached out and held both hands on my shoulders, locking her blue-gray eyes on mine. Her voice was low and husky, her tone strangely moving. "You make me want to paint pictures, Cassidy James. You make me want to write songs. But right now, all I want to do is make love to you. Okay?"
My heart hammered and my knees, already weak, trembled. "Okay," I said. "But I'll expect at least a song by morning." I led the way up the path to my cabin, boldly ignoring the little voice that kept insisting I still had time to stop myself from making another colossal mistake.
Chapter Twenty
The morning sun poured through the window, bathing Jo's golden skin in light. When she opened them, her eyes were the color of still water, gazing at me as we lay face to face, silently drinking each other in. I reached out and traced her jawline with my finger, then suddenly pulled my hand away and sat up.
"What?" she asked, a line furrowing her brow.
"Nothing. I'm sorry. I..."
She sat up and took my hand in hers. "Don't do this. Not after last night."
"It's just that..."
"Cassidy. God I love to say your name. Cassidy James. Why are you suddenly so afraid?"
"I'm not," I said, though as soon as I said it, I knew it was a lie.
"Then what? What just happened? One minute you're looking at me like you think I'm something special, the next second you can't wait to get away from me."
Jo stood up and started to dress.
"You are, Jo. You are something special, okay?"
She stopped dressing and turned to look at me.
"There's someone else, isn't there?" she asked.
I wasn't sure how to answer. There was and there wasn't.
"Why didn't you just say so? Last night?"
"It's not that simple," I said.
"Yeah, it is, Cass. It's exactly that simple."
I got up and started throwing on my own clothes, suddenly angry. "Maybe your life is that simple. Mine happens to be fucking complicated at the moment." Not entirely true. I was making it complicated. It didn't have to be that way.
She stared at me for a minute. "What's her name?" she finally asked.
I sighed. "Erica. She left me, for what it's worth. And it isn't the first time, either. So, I guess that makes me a world class idiot."
"Actually, I think it probably makes me the world class idiot," she said. She slid into her boots and ran her hands through her tousled hair. She looked sexy as hell.
"Jo, please. I just need to think this through a little. Last night happened so fast."
She held up her hands. "Hey, my mistake. I obviously got the wrong impression. I could've sworn the way you looked at me, the way you touched me, you know ..."
I moved across the room toward her but she backed away. "Just tell me this. Was it because you were curious? Wanted to know what it was like to be with a cowgirl? Someone who dresses like a guy?"
"Jo ..."
"Cause a lot of women are intrigued by that, you know? I mean, don't feel bad, or anything. I just wish I d known that's all it was."
"Jo ..."
But she was gone. In four strides she'd reached the door and slammed it on her way out. I stood, half-dressed and open-mouthed, wondering how in the world I had screwed that up so badly. It had been a perfect night, and a perfectly horrible morning.
I got undressed again and stepped into the shower letting the steaming water pound away as I tried to clear my mind. I couldn't let what had happened with Jo distract me from my purpose but I was having trouble concentrating. My own conflicting thoughts stormed and swirled until I could barely think straight. Why had I not listened to the voice of reason last night? Why had I allowed myself to tumble into bed with a relative stranger? A cowgirl, of all things! A woman who dressed like a cowboy, painted like De Grazia, spoke to horses like they were her lovers and played the guitar? And why did this woman move me so much? There was no denying the way she made me feel. So what was I so afraid of? It was more than just being gun-shy after my repeated failures with Erica Trinidad. And it was more than the fact that my feelings for Erica had never really gone away.
Maybe it wasn't fear at all. Maybe I was just being smart for once! But somehow I didn't quite believe it. It was as if that damned dream had given me an unwanted awareness of my own vulnerability and now that I was aware of it, I was afraid to make a single move.
I finished showering and dressed, forcing myself to think about the case. Had someone really tried to kill Belinda Pitt? I was anxious to talk to Gracie and get her take on the interaction between Coach and Belinda. If it wasn't Coach she'd gone after that night, who was it? I was even more anxious to talk to Maddie but until I could, there were a few things I could do on my own.
The more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that the heart of the matter somehow lay in the mine and the easiest way to find out more about the mine was through the machine shop. Ben no doubt kept records of the shop's transactions. If I could get a quick peek at his files, I might learn what the truckers had picked up that night which might or might not shed some light on what happened to Miss Sisson. Maybe I'd find a blueprint
of the mine's layout. Maybe there'd be some reference to the location of Isolation. And maybe I wouldn't find anything at all. But nothing ventured, nothing gained, I thought. My best bet was to slip into the machine shop during lunch, which meant I didn't have much time to prepare.
While I waited for Ben to head for the cafeteria, I unrolled a long strip of duct tape and folded it with the adhesive side against itself, making a ten-foot length of rope, which I neatly rolled and stuffed into my pocket. When at last I saw Ben leave the machine shop, I walked straight for it, figuring I'd have at least a half-hour to snoop around. The way Ben dawdled over meals, I might even have longer, but I didn't want to chance it. I anticipated that the front doors would be locked but even if they weren't, I didn't want to be seen entering. I made my way around the back of the building to the recreation area without running into anyone, though I knew that if someone were watching from behind a cabin window, they might be able to see me. Once I reached the rear of the building, however, I was well-hidden. The recreation area was bordered by an eight-foot concrete wall, just tall enough to discourage the machine shop workers from traipsing off during their breaks. There was, however, a maple tree growing at the south east corner.
Looking around to make sure no one could see me, I looped the tape over a low-hanging branch and hoisted myself up, climbed up to the next branch and swung over onto the wall. I perched there for a moment, scanning the recreation area to make sure I was totally alone. Not only was the place empty, but the door leading into the machine shop was propped open with a door stop. I wouldn't even have to use my picks, I thought, smiling at my good fortune. I moved my tape-rope to a branch that hung over the wall so that I would have a way to pull myself back up once inside, then let myself down.
Inside, the room was eerily silent, with only a few overhead fans churning the hot air. No wonder they kept the back door open, I thought. Without the cross-breeze from the front doors, the heat from the machines made the shop stifling.
I started toward the green lift leading to Ben's loft when I spotted an alternate route. There was a steel spiral staircase tucked near the rear door that I decided to take instead. If someone came in before I was done, at least it wouldn't be obvious that I was up there.
I took the stairs and walked along the two-foot balcony that rimmed the glass-enclosed loft, making sure the loft was empty before I entered. Once inside, I wasn't sure where to start. There were half a dozen computers, all of them glowing and humming. I sat down at the closest and hit the space key which stopped the geometric design that was flashing on-screen, showing me the desktop. I clicked on the hard-drive and scanned the contents. It only took a minute to realize that this computer was used to activate the machinery downstairs. I moved to the next computer and found the same thing. I checked my watch, then moved all the way to the last computer and brought up the menu, crossing my fingers.
"Bingo," I said. But my enthusiasm was short-lived. Ben had more files in the hard drive than I'd be able to read in a month. I opened one, then another, searching frantically for something that resembled delivery dates. I'd never find what I was looking for in the time I had. I pulled open a few drawers until I found a box of floppy disks. I chose a blank disk and inserted it into the computer, then began copying his files onto the disk. I wasn't sure what all I was getting. Some files were labeled by number only, others by name. I didn't have time to sort through them, so I copied them all. I was nearly finished, when the front door suddenly opened downstairs. Two men stood in the doorway. One was Ben. The other was Doc.
I froze, then ducked down, ejecting the disk from a crouched position and clicked out of the hard drive. My heart was thudding against my chest as I backed away from the glass overlook, searching for a way to escape. From the grinding sound of the loft, I knew they were headed my way. Maybe I could sneak down the staircase as they came up. But they'd be sure to see me, I thought. The lift and staircase were directly across from each other. I could hear the lift screech to a halt outside the door and knew I didn't have much time. But there was nowhere to hide! Then I noticed the curtained window along the north wall. I'd never seen the curtain open, but I assumed it covered an outside window. If there was room on the window ledge behind that vinyl curtain, I thought, I might have a chance. The window was six feet off the ground and about twelve feet wide. I moved the heavy curtain aside, and sighed with relief. The six-inch ledge was just wide enough for me to stand on. I stepped onto a chair and hoisted myself up onto the ledge, pressing my back against the glass and pulling the curtain closed in front of me. As I did, the loft door opened.
"So what is it that's so urgent I can't finish my lunch, Ben?"
"I told you, we need to talk."
"Yes, but why here?"
"Because we can't afford to be overheard. People have been talking. And that new teacher, Cassidy James? She's been asking a lot of questions about Sisson."
"What kinds of questions?"
The vinyl curtain had a number of vertical cracks along the folds, some of which were large enough to peer through. When I carefully shifted to the left, I could see Doc leaning back in one of Ben's office chairs. He didn't look overly concerned, but Ben was pacing.
"She said she'd heard that Annie was out at the mine that night, for one thing. Don't you think that's a little odd?"
Doc sat forward, suddenly more interested. "She say where she heard that?"
"No. But the only possibility is that dyke that works with Clutch. Who else could've seen her?"
"Yes, I've seen them together. I think our little Jo has a new girlfriend."
Ben cut him off. "Doc. I don't give a rat's ass what their relationship is. The point is, your new teacher and her have been talking. I don't like the way this is going."
"I think what you're suffering from, Ben, is a touch of good old fashioned paranoia."
"Don't patronize me, Doc. I think we should check her out. I know you all liked her in the interview, but something's not right."
"Ida already looked into it. Her story checked out."
"Yeah, I understand about her teaching job, but what's she been doing since then? There's a pretty big gap there in her employment record."
"What? You think she's some kind of law enforcement?" He laughed, shaking his head. "Look, I know this whole thing has got you nervous, but it couldn't be avoided. For someone in your line of work, you panic too easily. Just let it blow over. Another month or two and no one will even remember Annie Sisson was here."
"What about her family? Sooner or later, someone's going to come asking questions."
"And we'll answer them. All we know is she said there was a family emergency and she left. End of story."
"What if they find the car?"
"Coach took care of it. Forget about it."
"That's another thing. Coach should have never been brought into this. It's another thing he can hold over us."
"Ben, we've discussed this. We decided a long time ago it was better to have Coach inside the tent, pissing out, than the other way around." Doc pushed back his chair and stood up.
"She said she was interested in going inside the mine."
"What? What brought that up?" Doc suddenly sounded interested again.
"That's what I'm trying to tell you. She was grilling me, trying to get information. I don't know if she actually knows anything or not, but she's asking too many questions for my taste."
"What did you say?"
"Told her it was bat-infested and dangerous." For the first time, Ben allowed himself a small smile and Doc laughed.
"Good. Listen, I'll keep an eye on her. Frankly, I'm more concerned about what Maddie Boone might have seen that night. We never were able to verify her whereabouts. And she's been acting spooked ever since."
"Why don't you just do your hypnosis thing on her and find out?"
"Not that easy. She's resistant as hell, but time's on our side. You just keep the shop going and everything will be fine. How's production?"
"Maybe we should stick to the basics for a while."
"There's a shipment due in August. I'll need to start soon."
"Hold off for a while, Ben. Just to be safe."
Ben walked Doc to the loft door and they both stepped outside. My legs were shaking with the effort of standing in such an awkward position but I didn't dare move until I was sure they'd both gone down in the loft. If Ben came back in, God knew how long I might have to stay perched on the ledge. And if someone walked by outside the shop and looked up, no doubt they'd see me plastered against the window. I heard the lift grind into gear and counted. If he was coming back in, he'd do it soon. I waited, then unable to stand it another second, I eased the curtain aside and peeked out. No sign of Ben from that position. I climbed down from the ledge. Then I froze.
Ben was standing ten feet away from me on the other side of the glass. His back was to me as he watched Doc descend in the lift. Any minute, he'd turn around and come back in. My only hope was to make it to the stairs and hide there until he was distracted.
I threw myself to the floor and crawled toward the steel stairway. Even if Ben turned around, I didn't think he'd see me on the floor. But my mind was racing, thinking up excuses if I was caught. After what I'd just heard, though, I knew an excuse wouldn't matter.
I made it to the steel stairway and crouched on the second landing, holding my breath. From where I was positioned, I couldn't see Ben, which hopefully meant he couldn't see me either. I waited, willing him to go back into the room so I could make my way down the rest of the stairs without him hearing my footsteps on the steel steps. There was still a chance he might see me as I went, but he'd have to be looking out the window in that direction. I'd just have to take my chances.
Finally, I heard the door open to the loft and, keeping as low to the stairs as I could, I crept down them. When I reached the bottom, I ducked down and raced out the open back door into the recreation area. My heart was pounding as I dashed for the tree. Praying the tape would hold again, I hoisted myself, clambered over the wall, pulled the duct tape free and dropped to safety on the other side, the disk safely secured in my back pocket. Now all I needed to do was get to my computer. Then I needed to talk to Grade and Jo and figure out a way to get Maddie Boone the hell out of Camp Turnaround. With any luck, we'd be right behind her.
8th Day Page 16
