No Way Home

by Annette Dashofy

  The young Vincenti shook his head sadly. “I wish I could tell you, Chief. I don’t know. No one seems to know.”

  Baronick cleared his throat and tipped his head toward the door. Pete scooped up his artwork, excused himself, and followed the detective into the hall.

  “Kinda pisses me off,” Baronick grumbled. “A nineteen-year-old kid has had more luck getting information than I have.”

  “That’s because he is a nineteen-year-old kid instead of a cop.” Pete mulled over the conversation they’d just had. “Well, we’ve narrowed down our search. Instead of looking for the guy living at the Fort and Wolf Man, we’re only looking for one suspect.”

  “But there’s still a little problem. We don’t have a clue who our one suspect really is.”

  “Yeah.” Pete crumpled the paper with his doodles and shot it toward a trash can down the hall. He missed. “There is that.”

  Twenty-two

  The interior of the mobile home wasn’t much better than the exterior. The plywood floor sagged. The carpeting had been ripped out, but a few spots of vinyl remained intact in what served as the kitchen. There were gaps where a stove and refrigerator had once resided. A propane-powered camp stove and an ice chest served in their places. The living room décor consisted of a battered sofa and a couple of old crates turned upside down.

  Logan collapsed onto the sofa. Allison, clinging to his arm, sat beside him. Zoe dragged one of the crates in front of him and perched on it.

  Yellowhorse stayed just inside the door, arms crossed. A sentinel. But was he keeping the danger out or keeping them in?

  “All right,” Zoe said to Logan. “Spill it.”

  His forehead creased and suddenly he looked much older than his eighteen years. “Kayla’s dead.”

  “I know that.” Zoe leaned forward, taking the hand that Allison wasn’t already grasping. “What happened? Why are you hiding here?”

  “Because it’s all my fault.”

  Not the answer she wanted to hear. “What do you mean?”

  He looked at Yellowhorse, who nodded. “There were these guys at work. They had a business on the side.” Logan sneered at the word “business.” “It started as stolen equipment. With all the gas drilling back east now, especially in Pennsylvania, there are a lot of workers from here traveling there. So these guys steal machinery and stuff and have some of the workers who go back and forth transport it for them to buyers. But then they expanded their operations.” He met Zoe’s gaze for a moment before lowering his eyes. “Drugs. Meth in particular.”

  The conversation Zoe’d had with the Santiagos flashed through her mind. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the rest, but she managed to keep quiet.

  “Instead of transporting stolen equipment, now they had guys transporting drugs back east.” He took a ragged breath. “They found out I was planning to go home for Thanksgiving, and they approached me to take a shipment with me. I told them no. But these guys don’t take no for an answer.”

  “How did Kayla get involved?”

  Logan’s short laugh was more of a sob. “She was my girl.” As if that explained everything. “We were hanging out at the cave one evening last week.” He looked up at Yellowhorse with anguish in his eyes. “Was it just last week? It feels like a lifetime ago.” He shook his head. “Anyway, this guy and his thugs showed up. He started putting more pressure on me. I told him there was no way I was gonna transport their drugs to Pennsylvania. They started getting rough. Pushing me around. But I pushed back. Until three of them got me pinned. And then he grabbed Kayla.” Logan’s voice shattered. He doubled over, covering his face with his hands.

  Allison slipped an arm across her brother’s back.

  Zoe sat numbly, watching the young man revert to a distraught little boy. She glanced toward Yellowhorse, who continued to stand stoically at the door, staring into the space above their heads. The only sound in the trailer was Logan’s sobs.

  He managed to take a few deep breaths and regained his composure. “This guy pulled out a knife. A big switchblade kind of thing.” Tears welled in Logan’s eyes. “He made me watch. I can still hear her screams, pleading for me to help her. I fought. But the three of them held me down. I don’t know how many times he used it on her.”

  Zoe thought of the horrific photos McAllister had shown her. She knew how many times the girl had been stabbed, but revealing those details wouldn’t help now.

  Logan’s voice was stretched thin as he went on. “I’ll never forget the smile on his face when he held the knife to her throat. And I’ll never forget what he said. ‘This is what happens when you refuse to do what I want.’ And then he—he—” Logan slumped over against his sister and wept.

  Zoe stood and, leaving Allison to comfort her brother, moved to stand beside Yellowhorse. “Where were you when all this was going on?” she asked, trying without success to keep her tone non-accusatory.

  The Navajo still didn’t meet her eyes, but his jaw clenched. “I should have been there. Things would have ended differently if I had. He called me. Later. They had taken a rock and knocked him out. Probably thought they had killed him too. But he lived. When he woke up, he called and I came and found him. His girl, though, was gone. I could see that someone had dragged her off. From what he told me, I knew I couldn’t help her. So I did what I could to help him.”

  For the first time, Zoe’s opinion of Yellowhorse mellowed. “By hiding him here?”

  “Yes. I had long ago disconnected the GPS in my truck so I couldn’t be tracked. I took the battery from his phone so no one could locate him. I knew of this place. No one else does. It is a good place to not be found.”

  “Who are you afraid will find him? The police?”

  His eyes shifted and for a moment she thought he was going to look at her. He didn’t. “Yes, the police. For now. They think our friend is guilty of murder. But mostly I need to keep him safe from the Wolf and his pack. They want him dead. And they would make certain the job was done right the next time.”

  Wolf? Yellowhorse and his nicknames. This time, it seemed especially appropriate.

  Zoe watched Allison and Logan clinging to each other, speaking in hushed tones, just as she and Yellowhorse were. “I appreciate you taking care of him. But we need to take him back with us now.”

  “No.”

  She swung toward Yellowhorse, whose gaze was on the Bassi kids. “What do you mean, no?”

  “What part don’t you understand?”

  Was the stoic Navajo being funny? She wasn’t sure. “I’ve been in touch with the San Juan County Sheriff’s Office. They aren’t villains, you know. They’ll protect him.”

  “Yes. By putting him in jail.”

  She made an exaggerated point of looking around the dilapidated trailer. “And this is so much better,” she said sarcastically.

  “You must believe me. He is safer here. The Wolf and his pack have friends everywhere including in jail.” Yellowhorse’s lip twitched. “Especially in jail.”

  “And you think you’re the only one who can protect Logan?”

  “Possibly.”

  Zoe folded her arms and fixed him with a hard stare, eye contact be damned. “Why?”

  He still didn’t meet her gaze. “Because the Wolf hates me. But he also fears me. He has already cornered me. Tried to force me to reveal our friend’s location. He failed.”

  There was a note of menace in Yellowhorse’s voice that kept Zoe from asking what he meant. “So what exactly is your plan? Keep him here indefinitely?”

  “Until the guilty one is arrested.”

  “And when do you expect that to happen?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  Zoe wanted to ask him how exactly, but didn’t believe for one moment she’d get a straight answer. “I’m not leaving Logan here.”

  “I didn’t believe you would.
”

  She didn’t like his tone. Somehow, when he was agreeing with her, he sounded even more ominous.

  “I will take Little Sister back with me. She can assure her mother that he is well, but that they need to stop asking questions and go home. You will stay here with him.”

  “What? No.”

  “Listen to what I’m saying. Our friend is in danger. So are his sister, mother, and grandmother who look for him. If his family finds him, they bring danger. They can be tracked by cell phone or by the GPS in their vehicles.”

  Which was why Allison removed Zoe’s battery and why they left the rental car behind.

  “If they stay in Aztec, they could be used to get to him. Just like his girl was used.”

  The gravity of the situation slammed into Zoe’s brain like a thundering herd of buffalo. “Rose will never leave without Logan.”

  “Little Sister must convince her.”

  “Okay, how about this? Allison and I go back to town. We’ll get us all airline tickets to Pittsburgh. For the four of us and for Logan. Can you arrange to get him to the airport in Durango? He’ll be safe back home. Our police chief is a friend of mine.”

  “He would never make it on the plane. The law would be waiting for him. Besides, it is not safe there either.”

  “At least Logan would be away from these killers.”

  “No.” Yellowhorse’s stern expression grew darker. “He would not.”

  “I know it’s dangerous for you to be here,” Logan said, “but I’m kinda glad you stayed.”

  Zoe looked out through a grungy window at the sun, which had already started slipping below the western horizon, deepening the blues of the sky and giving an orange cast to the beige and brown rocks surrounding the trailer. “You must be scared out of your mind.”

  Logan unrolled a dusty sleeping bag on the couch. “Not really. I mean, I was. But now I’m just…I dunno. Lonely. Homesick. With Kayla gone, there’s nothing to keep me here.”

  Zoe turned her back to the sunset. The interior of the already dismal mobile home was growing darker by the minute. Home sweet home it wasn’t. “It’s kind of early for bedtime, isn’t it?” she asked as Logan straightened from his task.

  “Not really. Once the sun goes down, it gets really cold. And you can’t see shit.”

  She took another look around the place. Obviously there wasn’t any electricity, but there also weren’t any propane heaters, camp lanterns, or even a candle.

  He must have read her mind. “Billy says I shouldn’t have any lights on. Even a little one. It could be spotted miles away out here. So I turn in and try to sleep until the sun comes up.”

  Other personal necessities came to Zoe’s mind. “Does the bathroom work?”

  In the shadows, she could make out Logan’s grin. He thumbed toward the door. “Second cactus on the left is the men’s room. So you can use the third one on the right.”

  “I’ve seen the cacti. They aren’t that big.”

  He snickered. “Actually, there’s a bucket in the bathroom. You can have the job of dumping it in the morning.”

  “Gee. Thanks.” She’d always enjoyed camping. When she came prepared.

  Logan took a seat on top of the sleeping bag. “Can we talk?”

  “Of course.” Zoe joined him on the couch. “What about?”

  He rested his head back, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t even care. Other than Billy, I haven’t seen a soul since, well, since Kayla—” His voice cracked.

  Zoe wrapped an arm around Logan’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry. She sounded like a great girl.”

  “She was. But I can’t really talk about her. Not yet. You know?”

  “Sure. You pick the topic then.”

  “How’s Mom?”

  “How do you think?”

  “Obsessed?”

  “Yep. Her baby boy is missing and she will stop at nothing to find him.”

  “I hope Allison can convince her to go home. If these guys find out I’m alive and I have family here…” Logan shook his head.

  Zoe didn’t need him to fill in the blanks. She’d seen the autopsy photos.

  They sat in silence for a few moments, and she recalled the final exchange she’d had with Yellowhorse. He’d asked her to walk out to his truck while the siblings said their tearful goodbyes. That was when the Navajo shocked her by reaching into his pickup for something that he pressed into her hand. She looked down at the cold, hard chunk of steel. A black revolver.

  “Do you know how to use one of these?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “Good.” His voice lowered. “I did not want you to come, but since you’re here, and since you refuse to leave without our friend, I must trust you to be our last line of defense.”

  She studied his face trying to read it and still having no luck. No, she could never invite him into her poker circle.

  Provided she survived to ever attend the Saturday night ritual again. “Last line of defense?”

  “Yes.” He lifted his face and puckered his lips, gesturing with them toward the trailer. “There is a rifle behind the couch as well. You see someone other than me coming, use it.” He tapped the revolver in her hand. “If they make it closer, use this.” Then he closed his hand over hers. “If any of them still make it in, save two shots for yourselves. It will be an easier death.”

  Her blood chilled. Was he for real?

  He gave no hint of joking. “Do you understand?”

  She’d hesitated, but replied, “Yes.”

  Now, on the couch, she took Logan’s hand. “Do you know about the rifle?”

  There was still enough light for her to see Logan’s eyes widen. “Yeah. I’m surprised Billy told you though.”

  She pondered whether to mention the revolver tucked in the pocket of her fleece vest, but decided to keep the existence and location of the handgun to herself. “I’m surprised too. We didn’t exactly develop a bond of trust in the short time we’ve known each other.”

  Logan gave one short huff of a laugh. “I can understand that. But Billy’s as good a guy as I’ve ever known. He knows this country, he’s scary smart, and he’s loyal. He would die before he’d give me up.”

  “That might be pushing it a little,” Zoe said. “You make him sound like a superhero.”

  “Maybe.” Logan chuckled and lowered his voice to mimic a movie-trailer narrator. “Navajo Man. Able to leap a canyon in a single bound.”

  “Ha. Funny.”

  “Put him up against any of the comic heroes, and I’d bet on Billy.” Logan fell silent for a moment. “Better than a superhero, he’s like a brother.”

  Zoe hoped her skeptical grin was hidden in the shadows. “Blood brothers?”

  “Laugh all you want. It’s true. And no, we never did any kind of ceremony. But I’ve never looked up to anyone the way I look up to him. Well, except Dad.”

  Her heart ached for her lost friend, Logan’s deceased father.

  “And maybe Chief Adams,” Logan added.

  Zoe lowered her face. She wished she had her phone, if only to hear Pete’s voice. Perhaps one last time.

  Twenty-three

  The next morning, Pete sat in one of the most painful chairs he’d ever experienced. New and modern, but clearly not designed for comfort. With any luck, he wouldn’t have to suffer long. The receptionist at the Federated Petroleum Resources Eastern Headquarters had promised Wesley Johnson, the local manager Bodine had seen arguing with Scott Springfield, would only be a few minutes.

  For the thousandth time, Pete dug out his cell phone and checked for missed calls. Specifically, one from Zoe, who hadn’t answered any of the dozen calls he’d placed to her overnight. The screen indicated nothing. A big fat zero. He’d decided to give her until nine a.m.—seven o’clock in New Mexico—to wake up and get b
ack to him. It was now five after. Enough of this. Time to find out what the hell was going on.

  As Pete pulled up Zoe’s number, the receptionist’s phone rang. He hesitated, his finger poised above the green send button. The receptionist answered, listened, and then motioned for him to go on back. “Down the hall, second door on the right,” she said.

  He pocketed his phone. For the moment.

  Johnson was on his feet, wearing a gray suit and a well-practiced smile as he extended a hand to Pete, which he shook.

  “Thanks for agreeing to see me.” Pete pulled out his notebook.

  “Always happy to help law enforcement. Please. Have a seat.”

  Thankfully, this chair was a little more suitable for an extended meeting. “I understand you had a disagreement recently with Scott Springfield.”

  The smile faded to puzzlement. “A disagreement? No. When?”

  Pete checked his notes. “Last week. Someone reported hearing you two have a shouting match.”

  Johnson lowered into his leather executive-style chair behind his desk. “Who told you that?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  A scowl crossed his face. “It’s true I’ve had several meetings recently with Scott. But there was never any shouting.”

  “Any quieter disagreements?”

  “We’re in business. There are always disagreements.” The scowl deepened for a moment, but then his eyes widened. “Oh, wait. Is this about Scott’s father?”

  Pete held his gaze without responding.

  “Of course it is,” Johnson said as if Pete had indeed confirmed his suspicion. “I should have put it together sooner. As I said, there was no shouting. No argument. But yes, we did have a discussion about his father’s stance on drilling in Monongahela County. I’d hoped Scott could speak with him on our behalf. Ask him to at least tone down his protests.”

  “And did he?”

  “No. Scott was rather insistent. He wanted nothing to do with his father. Apparently they haven’t spoken in quite some time.”