His gut twisted. He ought to be feeling unmitigated joy, shouldn’t he? Beth was alive! But her deceit clouded everything.
She’d played him. God, he’d even talked to her about their break-up! And she hadn’t said a word. What a payback. Or it would be, if Chris and Ellie weren’t dead.
He didn’t know what to think. His instinct as a cop was to look at the money first as a motive, but Beth said she didn’t care about the cash, and fool that he was, he believed her.
He switched on his high-beams, trying to see better through the downpour.
Why didn’t she just come to me and ask for my help? Why did she have to lie?
After all their conversations, he’d thought he knew her pretty well. He would never have expected her to pull a scam like this. She was too honest to lie consistently over days and days—especially to him. Or at least he’d thought so.
How could I have been so wrong about her? What else had he missed? Was it wishful thinking to believe her about the money? He was usually a good judge of character. His life depended on it. Maybe it was time for him to quit undercover work, if he could make a mistake this big. Lightning flashed, nearly blinding him. A crack of thunder followed on its heels.
She said she was doing it to find out who’d killed Chris and Ellie. It seemed ridiculous on the face of it, like something out of a bad movie.
But they had found out about Montenegro, and mostly because Beth had kept on looking when everyone around her said Chris and Ellie’s deaths were accidents.
She also claimed that Ellie was talking to her from beyond the grave.
Does she really expect me to believe that?
Maybe it was just Beth’s grief playing tricks on her.
He could understand that.
What I can’t understand is Maria going along with it! The housekeeper was one of the most honest and sensible people he knew. How could she believe in ghosts? For that matter, why had she helped Beth get away with her lies? He would never have believed it of her. But in his work, he’d seen lots of otherwise sensible people taken in by the unscrupulous. That could be what had happened here.
Except Beth wasn’t unscrupulous.
She was just a liar.
Shit.
“DAMN IT!” BETH GRIPPED the steering wheel. She stopped in front of an arroyo running with swift water across the road. That’s the way things were done in the desert: roads ran right through the washes that were dry ninety-nine percent of the time. It generally wasn’t a problem—unless you needed to get to the opposite side during a storm.
Maybe there was another way to get to that mine shaft, but if there was, she didn’t know it. She didn’t have a map of the area and even if she did, it probably wouldn’t show any of these dirt tracks that criss-crossed the ranches.
She flicked her lights on high, but all they showed her was the water running too fast and deep to chance crossing. In a few hours the wash would be dry again, but by then whatever evidence the deputy had to show her might be gone. She hoped he had the sense to put a tarp over it. She wished again that Jason were with her, then pushed that thought aside. He’d made his choice.
Lightning zig-zagged across the sky, followed by thunder. Beth dug through Ell’s purse, tossing out old receipts and gum wrappers, looking for her cell phone. She’d call to let the deputy know she couldn’t make it.
She flipped open the phone just as headlights glared behind her. She adjusted her rear-view mirror. Was that the sheriff? She waited a second, poised to dial, wondering if he’d get out and come up to her window. Nothing happened. She couldn’t blame him for not wanting to get wet. But she wished he’d turn his brights off.
Bump! Her little Civic lurched forward nearly a yard. She dropped the phone and grabbed the steering wheel.
Beth jammed both feet on the brake. “No!” Did he think she was stalled? That she needed a push? She honked her horn.
He stopped pushing and backed up.
Thank God! She reached for the door handle.
Suddenly the lights grew bright and the car shook as he rammed her again with a frightening crunch. The churning water tugged at her front wheels.
He drove right into me! This wasn’t the sheriff.
She put the transmission in park before he slammed her again, but it didn’t help. He was driving some kind of big stump-jumper SUV that out-weighed her little Honda four to one. The bigger vehicle smashed into her bumper a third time. The Civic bounced forward, then suddenly the flood grabbed the nose of her car, jerking it into the rushing water. Fear jolted through her. The car floated for a moment, then pitched over. Oh God! I’m sinking! Her headlights went below the surface. Cold water flowed in around the door. The engine died.
She had to get out! Beth unfastened her seat-belt and pushed on the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Water rose inside the car. She yanked on the handle again. The water was up to her waist. Was the door locked? No. She pulled and pushed with all of her strength, but nothing happened. The car wallowed as the current rolled it from one side to the other, drifting down-stream from where the truck had pushed her in..
The window. She could get out the window. Beth felt for the button and pushed. Water poured in as the glass rolled down. It stuck half-way. She pushed down with both hands but it was jammed. Was it down enough? Beth struggled free from under the steering wheel. She could see almost nothing.
Beth took a deep breath from the last trapped air, then squeezed first one shoulder then the other through the small opening. Outside the car, dark water rushed around her head. She wiggled and pulled and shifted, trying to get her hips loose. Her lungs burned, aching to take in another breath. Then with a painful scrape, she was free and tumbling in the churning, murky rapids.
JASON PEERED THROUGH THE windshield. This drive wasn’t helping to settle his mind. He should turn around and go back, pack up his things and leave. Let Beth sort out her own mess.
He knew there were no other cars on the road, but he glanced in the rearview mirror anyway out of habit as he backed up—and nearly drove off the road. Beth was staring back at him. Jason slammed on the brakes, taking full advantage of their anti-lock capability, then turned around. No one was in his back seat.
What the hell? He unfastened his seat belt and looked all the way over. She wasn’t hiding between the seats, either. Was he losing his mind? He was sure she’d been there.
He slid back behind the wheel and glanced again at the mirror. Beth glared at him and gestured. Her mouth was moving but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. Was he hallucinating? His heart hammered and he stared at her as she waved her arms more frantically, then looked again at the back seat. He was still alone. And Beth was still in his mirror. What is going on? He reached up and touched the image.
“—hear what I said? Bethie’s in trouble! You’ve got to hurry!”
What the— “Beth?” He gripped the mirror tightly.
“No, you idiot! I’m Ellie! The dead one! But Beth will be too, if you don’t get a move on!”
He jerked his hand back, staring at the glass where Ellie continued to rant, only he couldn’t hear her again. He was breathing like he’d run a mile. This is crazy. There’s no such thing as ghosts.
But something that looked an awful lot like Ellie was in his mirror. He touched the rear-view again.
“—where Chris died.”
“Ellie? Is that really you?”
“Yes! Yes! How many times do I have to tell you?”
Oh my God. “This isn’t possible. You’re dead!”
“I know. Get over it!”
“But—Why are you here?”
“I’ve been telling you. Beth is in trouble! She needs help. I’ll show you where to go. Now hurry! Talking to you like this is difficult for me. We don’t have much time!”
Jason drove down the muddy lane as fast as he dared. He glanced in the mirror and Ellie nodded. He must be insane. He was following the directions of a dead woman. Or the hallucinations of a delusional mind
. He came to a fork and slowed almost to a stop, looking for guidance. Ellie gestured with one arm and he turned in that direction. The road was rutted and slick. He had to drive a lot slower than he wanted to. A minute later he glanced up and saw Beth’s twin frantically waving her arms. He touched the mirror. “What?”
“You went the wrong way!”
“But you—” He stopped himself and began backing the car. They didn’t have time to argue. Apparently ghosts got turned around in the reversed image of mirrors too. Lightning shot from cloud to cloud.
He got to the fork and took the other track. It was in even worse shape than the other one, and he had to go even slower. Jesus! He’d almost get there faster walking. What is Beth doing out here, anyway? What could possibly have enticed her to go out in the middle of a storm?
No. Not what. Who. Had Connie told Montenegro about their visit? Was Beth out here alone because someone had lured her out here? Minutes crawled by as he jounced in slow motion over the rutted surface. Jason pushed his speed as much as he could, until the Taurus shimmied like a stripper. He couldn’t take his eyes off the road to look at the mirror, but there had been no turns. He must still be on the right path. The rain slackened.
He got to a smoother section, and the car settled down. Jason glanced up at the rear-view. She was gone. He touched the mirror. “Ellie? Ellie!”
The glass remained dark. How was he going to find Beth? Where should he look? Ellie hadn’t been specific about what kind of danger Beth was in. Was someone threatening her, or had she crashed her car in this rain? He thought about calling the sheriff, and dismissed it. He had no specific information. Cops didn’t like to be called out in a downpour because someone had a feeling. And he certainly wasn’t going to say his info came from a ghost.
He continued on. It was the only thing he could do. He just hoped he didn’t come to another of those cross-roads where he’d have to guess which way to go. If Beth really was in trouble, she couldn’t afford to have him back-tracking all over the county. At least the rain had nearly stopped now and he could see more than ten feet ahead.
There was light up ahead. He slowed. A big black SUV was parked facing away from him, taking up the entire road. It didn’t look like any of the ranch vehicles that he’d seen over the last few days. Its driver’s side door was open and its high-beams were on.
Beth’s in trouble. Was the driver of that truck out of gas? Trying to help Beth? Or was he the source of her danger?
Jason stopped the car well back from the truck. With a flashlight in one hand and his weapon in the other, he approached the oversized truck cautiously.
“Hello? Do you need help?”
Thunder rumbled distantly.
He saw no movement, heard nothing except the rushing of the water in the arroyo. He stepped along-side the vehicle and played the flashlight beam over the interior. There was no one in the car. He walked around to the front. The wheels were almost in the water. The paint on the brush guard was scraped, the metal underneath shiny and slightly dented. Recent damage.
Now what? He looked out at the dark, violent water illuminated by the headlights. A branch of a tree rushed by. I hope Beth didn’t try to cross this. It would sweep a car away in a heartbeat. But where was she? Ellie had directed him here to help Beth. Had Beth crossed the arroyo before it flooded? There was no way to get to her if she had. Frustrated, Jason examined the ground around the SUV.
Tires narrower than the SUV’s had scraped a furrow in the wet dirt. The tracks disappeared into the muddy water. Suddenly the scrapes on the truck grill made sense. The bastard pushed her in! Panic squeezed his chest. “Hello!” He shouted. “Beth! Answer me! Beth!”
He needed a search team. Jason put the flashlight on the hood, then pulled out his cell phone. No signal. “Damn it!”
He hurried along the wash in the direction the water was flowing, dodging around trees and scrub growing close to the edge. Away from where the road crossed, the bank became steeper. He stopped every ten yards or so, playing his flashlight beam over the flood, looking for her car, looking for a blond head and pale face trying to stay above water. “Beth!” he shouted over and over. “Beth!”
And where was the guy that had pushed her in? Was he out here somewhere, trying to finish his job? If he was, Jason was letting the killer know exactly where he was by calling out.
It didn’t matter. He had to find her. He shouted again, “Beth!”
Then, faintly, he heard something. “Here!” Her voice barely carried over the noise of rushing water.
He followed the voice. “Where are you? Keep talking, babe!”
“Here! I’m here!”
And there she was, on the opposite bank, clinging to a half-submerged mesquite. Her head was barely above the surface. Water churned around her, and the tree looked like it might let go of the crumbling soil any second.
The wash was maybe ten yards across here. An easy swim back in his life-guarding days—except this water was moving like a rip-tide. He wanted to dive straight in, but he couldn’t save her if he drowned himself. He’d seen a coil of rope in the back of the SUV. He could anchor himself with that.
Jason tucked the gun in his waistband and the flashlight under his arm, then cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hang on, Beth! I’m coming to get you. I’ll be right back!”
“I’ll be here.” He smiled at her attempt at humor, but his heart clenched at the same time. He could barely hear her. She must be exhausted. He had to hurry. He turned, just in time to see a dark shape swinging a mallet toward his head.
Jason twisted and the blow fell on his injured shoulder. Pain cut like lightning through his body, as breath fled his lungs. The mallet lifted again for another blow. There was no time to pull his weapon. Jason threw himself at the other man, grappling for control. His opponent pushed him back. Jason barely kept his feet, but he pulled the man with him. The water tore by, only inches away. Ignoring the pain, Jason landed two solid blows to the man’s belly. The man grunted as each connected, then tried to twist away. Jason held on and drew back for another punch. Before it landed, the ground beneath their feet collapsed, pitching them into the buffeting flood.
The cold torrent hit him like a body slam. His mouth filled with gritty water as he struggled to right himself in the swirling flow. The maelstrom pulled him under and rolled him over. Jason toed off his shoes and struck out for the other shore. He was downstream from Beth now. He had to get to her. He couldn’t allow this beastly flood to carry him away from her.
He had to get to her, before the killer did.
Jason kicked, pushing against the buffeting current, cleaving the water with strong strokes, angling upstream for the opposite bank. But the water was cold despite the summer heat, and moving faster than he was. Taking him farther and farther from Beth.
Jason slammed into something, knocking the wind from him. It was Beth’s car. The headlights were still on, pointed down into the murk. He clung there for a moment, catching his breath, then pushed off from it.
He swam as hard as he could, his damaged shoulder burning. He ignored it, just like he had in physical therapy. Stroke, kick, stroke, kick. The clouds began to break, and a bit of moonlight showed him he was close. He reached for a branch overhanging the water.
A pile of debris rushed toward him and tangled on his arms. His head went under. Dirty water rushed up his nose as the current rolled him over and over, like an alligator crushing its victim in deadly jaws. Jason struggled to right himself, fighting his lungs’ need to breathe.
Suddenly the turbulence shook him free of the storm wrack. He came up coughing and flailing, hungry for air. Beth. I have to get to Beth. He’d lost valuable time and distance. Somewhere he found the strength to strike out again, and he swam, stroke after stroke, as the churning water broke over him, trying to push him down, pull him away from the bank, away from Beth. His shoulder was on fire, but he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t.
It was so dark, and the water had turned
him around. He was no longer sure if he was swimming in the right direction, but he couldn’t give in. Not to the pain, not to despair.
I refuse to drown in water that’s only four feet deep. Even if it was raging like a demon. He would not be a morbid statistic. Beth won’t be one either. His good shoulder was hurting now too, but he swam on.
Then his hand was grasping a root, and his foot found solid ground. He clawed his way up onto the bank.
His lungs bellowed, drawing in precious air. He made his way to hands and knees, then to his feet, shaking with the effort. He stood, muddy water streaming off him, wet clothes clinging to his body. His hand went to his waist, where he’d tucked his weapon while shouting to Beth. It was gone. Damn it! That would require a pile of paperwork, but that was the least of his worries.
Jason moved slowly, ignoring the biting rocks and stickers that found his sock clad feet, calling out for her and receiving no answer.
“Beth?” Had the mesquite given way? Had her strength given out? Was she caught up in that torrent? “Beth!”
He was almost on top of her before he heard her. “Jason!”
He had to squeeze between a tree and some kind of prickly bush to get to the bank. Thorns scratched and caught at this shirt. Moonlight silvered the terrifying scene of her clinging to the black, twisted branch, her face barely above the water. Jason got down on his belly and stretched. It was too far for him to reach her. I wish I had that rope. But he didn’t, and wishing wouldn’t make it so.
But maybe he had something almost as good.
Jason pulled his tee-shirt off over his head. With an outward fling he tossed one end of it toward Beth. “Grab it!”
She shook her head. Her eyes were wide with fear. “I can’t!”
“Come on, honey, you can do it. Just let go with one hand. Just reach out a little bit.” He thought she’d loosed her grip just a little when the mesquite she was clutching shuddered with the force of the current. The edge of the shirt floated away from her. Jason pulled it back and flung it toward Beth again. This time she reached for it, but again it was short, and the shirt trailed away from her. In that moment she lost her grip and her head went under.
VEILED MIRROR Page 15
