Quick Sands: A Theo Ramage Thriller (Book 1)

by Edward J. McFadden III

  “Twain, but that was a different time,” Ramage said.

  “So, what’s the plan?” asked Cecil.

  “The plan is I’m going in alone. I won’t—”

  Gypsy and Anna laughed.

  “What?”

  Cecil shook his head. “You haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”

  Ramage hiked his shoulders.

  “You and I aren’t in charge here, my friend,” Cecil said.

  “Whatever you do, we’re helping,” Anna said. “This is our town and we’ve been fighting much longer than you. You can’t just—”

  “I can,” Ramage said, a bit too loudly. “But I won’t. I appreciate your help and I’m open to ideas. How can I get in there?”

  Silence.

  Anna and Gypsy stared at each other and Cecil lifted an eyebrow.

  “You think he’d help?” Gypsy asked.

  “Maybe. No way to know unless we ask,” Cecil said.

  “Mind telling me what the hell you’re talking about?” Ramage said.

  “There’s a guy works tech, Splice he’s called. He repairs machines, data networks, works on computers and stuff like that. Most of the businesses in town have deals with him to handle their technology,” Anna said.

  “He got me free cable,” said Lucy as she bustled into the room carrying a stack of plates.

  Steam rose from Ramage’s steak. The plate was old, a chipped white thing with roses around the edge, but the food looked and smelled great.

  A young boy followed Lucy and placed the second Manhattan at Ramage’s elbow and he took a long pull.

  “Another drink for anyone?”

  Nobody answered, then Anna said, “Water all around.”

  As they ate, Ramage asked, “What can Splice do for us?”

  “He used to work for the Sandman,” Anna said.

  “Still does on occasion,” Gypsy said.

  “And?” Ramage said. “Doesn’t sound like he can be trusted.”

  “He knows the security system. He designed it,” Anna said.

  “And he’ll just help us break in? Risk the Sandman’s wrath?”

  “Maybe,” Anna said. “We’ll have to pay him, of course.”

  Ramage said, “How do we contact the guy?”

  “I’ll handle it,” Gypsy said. “He does data mining work for me sometimes.”

  Data mining. He’d been a government data psychic of a kind in his former life, still was kind of. Gave him leverage, and he kept up with the ever-changing industry as best he could. “When can we meet him?” Ramage asked.

  Anna looked at her watch and exchanged a glance with Gypsy. “Probably too late for today, but maybe I can set something up for the morning. Late breakfast at the diner?”

  “Sounds perfect,” Ramage said.

  Notes compared, and a loose plan in place for the next day, the companions ate in silence. Ramage’s steak was nothing but a bone when Lucy entered the room and whispered in Anna’s ear. His friend’s jovial face fell, and she dabbed at her lips with her napkin.

  “Where is she? I want to see my daughter.” The sound of Santino’s voice filtered through the room’s thin walls.

  “Excuse me a moment,” Anna said. She got up and slipped from the room.

  Gypsy whistled. “Her father’s a tough one.”

  “Just looking out for his only daughter. You’d do the same,” Ramage said. Before things went to hell he and Joan had planned on taking the plunge at some point and have kids, but they’d never had the chance.

  Through the thin wall Ramage and the others listened to Anna and her father argue, and Ramage had a flashback to his childhood. “Where have you been all day? What are you up to? Who have you been with?” Ramage looked around the table and concluded he’d be concerned if Anna was his kid. Damn concerned.

  The voices fell to a muffled whisper, then stopped. Two minutes later Anna reappeared.

  “All good?” Ramage asked.

  “Wouldn’t say that. He was concerned with your sleeping arrangements. Apparently, he thinks you’re going to ‘try and do me,’” she said.

  The thought had crossed his mind. He tried to think of a witty response, came up with nothing, and said, “Oh.”

  Cecil stretched, and Gypsy said, “Yeah, it’s about that time.”

  “And I think we’re making this bicycle a car,” Cecil said.

  Anna and Gypsy chuckled. Ramage didn’t get the joke.

  Seeing the puzzled look on his face, Anna said, “Two extra wheels?”

  Ramage let a smile slip over his face, but he didn’t think it was funny.

  Gypsy and Cecil said their goodbyes, and they agreed to touch base the next day after Ramage and Anna spoke with Splice. When they were gone, Ramage said, “I think I’m going to risk heading back to my hotel tonight. I need to sleep in a real bed. My back is killing me.”

  “How about mine?”

  “Your what?”

  “My bed.”

  Ramage felt his face heat like he’d gotten instant sunburn. They sat in silence for a time, looking at each other. After several minutes, Ramage said, “I’d like that, but I have to warn you. It’s been awhile, and I haven’t been with anyone since… since…”

  “Joan was killed?”

  He nodded.

  “No pressure then.”

  They both chuckled, but his was forced.

  Anna paid the bill after a halfhearted attempt by Ramage. He had a little cash, and his credit card, but if he used the card Rex would know exactly where he was, and he didn’t want that. Not yet.

  “Next one is on me,” Ramage said.

  Anna said nothing.

  They exited Lucy’s into the cool night air. The sandstorm was a distant memory, and stars blinked in the clear December sky. The plastic nativity scene on Lucy’s lawn cast long shadows across the front of the house, the spotlight spiked into the ground having fallen askew.

  Ramage and Anna settled into the truck and headed for Anna’s place, not speaking, the pickup rumbling along. He reached across the bench seat and took her hand, and she smiled.

  Anticipation is a funny thing. It can play with senses, make you think your seeing and feeling things that aren’t there. He was nervous, excited, and afraid. He considered telling her to bring him to his hotel. Give her the ‘your too important to me for us to do this so fast,’ but he wanted her. Wanted her more than he could admit.

  The pickup barreled through the darkness.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Thoughts of his hotel forgotten, Ramage stared into the gloom as the pickup’s headlights cut a tunnel through the darkness. They held hands as Anna drove, Ramage reveling in the anticipation and fear of what was to come. Other than Joan, Ramage had been with three women, and Joan had passed more than six years ago. He recalled a long period after her death when he’d had no sexual feelings at all, and he’d wondered if he’d ever lust for a woman again. Then he met Anna.

  “What are you thinking about?” Anna said.

  “You. Me. How bad I’m going to screw this up if I don’t relax,” he said.

  “Screw what up?”

  “This.” He lifted their clasped hands.

  “There’s nothing to screw up. Not everything you do has to go according to some master plan. Don’t you ever do anything just because you feel like it?”

  Not really. He said, “Sure. You think I planned to stay in this sparrow-fart town?”

  She took her eyes off the road and studied him for an instant, the glow of the dash lights cutting across her face. She was smiling. “No, I guess you hadn’t.” She squeezed his hand.

  Anna turned down her long driveway, and from half a mile away Ramage saw there were no lights on in her house. He’d seen Santino leave Lucy’s, and he wondered where Anna’s father might be. “Dad have another hangout?” he said.

  “A few. Lucy doesn’t like people getting drunk in her place—she’s cut him off many times and he causes a scene.”

  “Why does sh
e tolerate him?”

  “This is a small town, Ramage, as you’ve pointed out,” she said. She parked the car, killed the engine, and turned to him. “He’s been here since there were two buildings in town and Prairie Home wasn’t on Texas maps. She tolerates him because she considers him family.”

  Ramage nodded. He understood that. He’d grown-up in the burbs of Chicago, and what Anna described was no different than the block he’d grown up on. Everyone looked out for each other’s children, and all kinds of warts were overlooked because everyone who lived on Tomlinson Ave. was family.

  They headed into the house, turned on some lights, and stood in the foyer unsure how to proceed. The passion had dissipated during the ride like embers losing their glow. He was still attracted to her. Felt she was attracted to him, yet they hesitated. Ramage thought of what she’d said. Don’t you ever do anything spontaneous? Or something like that. He considered taking her in his arms, and kiss her, but instead decided drinks might loosen things up.

  “Got any whiskey?” he asked.

  “Sure. Dad always has Jack Daniels around,” she said.

  “Sweet. My favorite.”

  She frowned. “Might want to keep that to yourself.”

  It was clear Santino’s drinking was a problem, and not a new one. When you’re in a rut the size of a valley sometimes you don’t see the avalanche slowly building above on the mountainside. Comfort, complacency, love—all make reality appear an easy thing to accept, regardless of how hurtful that reality might be.

  They went into the kitchen and Anna grabbed a glass and poured Ramage two fingers of whiskey. “Nothing for you?” he said as he tipped the glass to his lips. He still felt the buzz and thick-muscled weariness from his two dinner drinks.

  She got a beer from the fridge. “Let’s head into the den. More comfortable in there.”

  Ramage lifted his eyebrows and smiled. Anna led him into the den and they dropped into a loveseat that was so close to a huge flat screen TV they looked monstrous in its reflection. She inched next to him until their legs were touching. Ramage’s face burned as heat built between them, and he felt the tingle of arousal. It scared him. He scrunched his face and backed off slightly.

  She noticed his discomfort and moved away. Not far, but the two inches might as well have been a mile. Her warm face had gone arctic, and her eyes blazed with rejection.

  Ramage dumped his Jack Daniels into his mouth and put the glass on the coffee table. Then he moved closer to her, putting his hand on her knee. “I find you very attractive, it’s just…”

  “Joan?”

  “Yes and no. I feel like she’s watching me, you know? Not in a bad way, but like if I don’t treat you right she’ll haunt me.”

  The anger slipped from Anna’s face, replaced with a smile. “Us girls do have to look out for each other.”

  He leaned in and gathered her to him. He kissed her hard, pulling her in close. He tasted onions, hamburger, and beer. It was wonderful.

  They fumbled with each other’s clothes like teenagers as they kissed, Ramage unwilling to break their embrace for fear of her changing her mind. Anna pawed at him in her lust, pulling at his belt and grabbing his crotch.

  Ramage flashed back to his own ball grab earlier in the day, and his arousal took a hit.

  A car door slammed and there was a break in the action. Anna and Ramage separated like they’d been making out on Lookout Point and a cop had just shined a flashlight into the car.

  Anna got up and straightened her pants and buttoned her shirt.

  Ramage sat stunned, balls aching like he’d been kicked, staring at Anna like she was from another planet.

  “Fix your pants. Hurry.”

  “How old are we?”

  “I don’t know how old you are, but I’m old enough to know that you don’t screw in your father’s living room with him watching.”

  “Good point.” Ramage ran a hand through his hair and picked up his empty glass. “Another beer?”

  She shook him off.

  The front door slammed. “Anna! Anna!”

  “Here, dad,” she said. Anna disappeared through an arch into the foyer.

  “You alone?” Santino asked his daughter.

  “No. Ramage is inside, and…”

  Silence.

  What was it with daughters and their fathers?

  Santino tried to whisper, but in his intoxicated state he was like a freight train running behind schedule. “This is my house, goddamn it! Built it with my own hands. You were conceived here, and I won’t let some out-of-towner blow in here and leave you a crumbled wreck when he moves on. What do we know about this guy?”

  Ramage didn’t hear Anna’s response, but he had to admit Santino had a point and it reminded him he knew very little about Anna.

  They argued for a few more minutes, and when Anna returned, she’d lost her glow and looked sullen. Black bags hung beneath her eyes—how hadn’t he seen that before—and her shoulders slumped. She’d gone from energetic and wide-awake, to beaten and half-asleep.

  “Sorry,” Ramage said.

  “For what? You did nothing wrong. Trust me.” She shifted on her feet and looked at the floor.

  He stepped forward to hug her, but Anna folded into herself. There was no heat between them. Ramage felt no stirrings. The moment had passed. Hell, it had run off into the darkness and lit itself on fire.

  Ramage cleared his throat.

  “Can I get a raincheck?” she said. “All of a sudden I’m feeling… unattractive.”

  He understood and nodded.

  “You want a ride to your hotel?” She sounded like a child asking if she had to spend her weekend at her grandmother’s.

  “Naw. Can I hit the barn?”

  She nodded.

  Ramage rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “Thanks.”

  “Goodnight, Ramage.”

  “Nite.”

  The sun completed its climb into the sky at 7:39AM, and with it came all the memories of the prior day, pieces to a puzzle that hadn’t taken shape yet. Ramage was no investigator, but he also wasn’t a fool. Whatever the Sandman was up to, he’d gone to great lengths to conceal his activities.

  Ramage made coffee and sat at the kitchen table, light spreading over the plain of sand, sagebrush, yucca, and prickly pear cactus. Thick clouds rolled overhead, white and fluffy, but it didn’t look like they carried any rain. It was already sixty-one degrees outside, which meant they were in for a warm December day.

  He wandered into the living room and was studying the Christmas tree when Anna entered. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

  Ramage joked, “Where’d you get her? Love the little pinecones.”

  “Some guy bought it for me. Dad says he was just trying to get in my pants.”

  Ramage smiled. “Smart guy. I want you to show me—”

  A snore tore through the house. Santino still passed out.

  “He’ll be OK?” Ramage asked.

  She nodded. “He could drink his way out of a swimming pool filled with booze.”

  “Can you show me the area where they’ve been stealing sand?”

  “Yup, and Gypsy left a message on my cell. We’re good to go with Splice at 10.”

  Ramage nodded as his stomach punched him. The coffee had helped, but he was starving and now he had to wait a couple of hours to eat. A dull thrumming ran through his head, the whiskey reminding Ramage he was forty-three, not twenty-three. He missed drinking, but not the associated payments.

  As Ramage and Anna prepared to head out he could tell things had changed between them. The prior nights flameout had put up walls, caused them both to think about and question their relationship, what it meant, and what each of them wanted it to mean. Ramage imagined what Anna must think of him, and none of it was good. He felt the urge to apologize but didn’t know why. For once, he’d done nothing wrong.

  Ramage washed up, but he still wore the same underwear and clothes. He stared at his reflection in t
he bathroom mirror, his gray eyes tired and beaten. Is that what Anna saw when she looked at him? An old mystery that seemed exciting at first, but was in fact nothing more than it appeared? A worn out, beaten has-been that never really was?

  His phone vibrated and Ramage pulled it from a back pocket. It was Rex. He went into the kitchen and said, “Please excuse me for a moment and then we can take off.”

  Anna looked at him, but said nothing.

  Ramage pushed out the screen door and answered his phone. “Ramage here.”

  “Finally.”

  Rex didn’t sound angry or frustrated, so Ramage said nothing.

  “What you been up to?”

  He glanced back at the screen door, and when he didn’t see Anna standing there, he said, “Exactly what I told you. Tracking down the guys that stole my truck, so I can tipoff the police.”

  “Any luck?”

  “A little. I think that guy you checked out for me has it stored in his warehouse. I’m just waiting for verification before I call in the fuzz.”

  Rex said nothing, and the silence told Ramage the fed wasn’t buying his story.

  “Really. It’s been a few days. You sure you’re not up to anything else? You gonna make me come there?” Rex said after thirty seconds of silence.

  “No, I don’t think that would help. I’ve met a woman and—”

  “Oh, I knew you were up to something. A woman. Really? I’m glad to hear that. Why don’t you call the cops and let them handle the truck, while you spend some time with her? You need it Ramage. It will do you some good.”

  Ramage realized Rex was giving him his out. “Yeah, your right. I’ll do that.”

  Silence.

  “You there?”

  Rex said, “Yeah I’m here, but I don’t remember you ever giving in so fast. How about I call the cops?”

  Ramage’s ribs where Piranha kicked him ached. “Bad idea, boss. This town is smaller than small, one sheriff, who is corrupt as politics. If you call him, I’ll—”

  “I was thinking the FBI field office in Dallas.”

  That was the last thing Ramage wanted right now, but he couldn’t let Rex know that. “OK, I hear you. Can you give me another day or two before we blow the panic whistle?”