A few articles about Mormon history and beliefs were scattered amid the environmental information clutter, although it really didn’t fit Lisa’s MO. Maybe she was studying the local culture to better deal with the opposition. Or maybe she wanted to understand Rachel better.
A raven squawked in Nora’s pocket. It startled her and she reached for her phone, checking the ID and hoping it was Cole. Disappointed, she answered. “Hi, Fay. You’re up early.”
Fay directed the open space programs for the Trust. “Weed Warriors. We were going to do this on Saturday, but a few people couldn’t make it so we bumped it back a day. I’ve got a ten-person crew to pull Russian thistle along the road, and we wanted to get it done before it gets hot.”
Nora knew that but had forgotten.
“Sorry to bother you. But I checked the Trust voicemail, and Etta Jackson left a long message about being here at eight on Monday morning and bringing a couple other board members.”
A giant sour ball burned in Nora’s stomach. She’d known about Etta’s trip but not about her bringing a brigade. “Thanks for letting me know.” After hanging up, Nora clenched her fists and stared at the La Sals. That left her three days.
Abigail walked into the office and placed a steaming cup of coffee on a spot Nora had just cleared.
Nora picked up her cup. “Thanks.” She took a sip and, with effort, kept from making a face.
“I used that hazelnut creamer you like,” Abigail said. “When did I tell you I like flavored creamer?”
Abigail walked over to a bookcase and gazed at an owl’s wing. She must not have realized it was a real wing and not an artist’s rendition. “Oh, maybe that wasn’t you. It wouldn’t make sense that you’d like flavoring. You only want that whole grain, tasteless stuff, vegetarian and quinoa.”
“Pronounced keen-wa, Mother. Not like the city in Portugal. And I’m not a vegetarian. I just prefer food that wasn’t manufactured in a lab.” Nora eyed the coffee, gauging whether she could stomach the sweet to get at the caffeine. She decided not to risk it.
Abigail spun around and sashayed to the French doors. “How long do you think you’ll stay in Utah?”
Nora eyed the mess on the desk. “Not sure.”
Lisa might not be the most organized person, but she would have at least stashed a copy off-site. The work had consumed her for years. And the camera—where would she have hidden that?
“Can’t you work from Boulder? Load up Lisa’s files and take them with you.” Abigail swayed as if listening to calming music. Her air of casualness was entirely too practiced.
“When are you going home?” Nora stacked the maps on one corner of the desk, the random articles on another, the Mormon stuff, unrelated pictures, and ads in yet another pile behind Lisa’s box.
“This morning. As soon as Charles gets back from his walkabout. We’ll drop you off to pick up your Jeep.” Abigail sipped her coffee and hugged herself with the arm not holding the cup.
Nora studied a photo of a rock art panel. It showed the typical snake squiggles, running antelope, and big-headed people with spears. An ancient hand had carved the weird sunburst image into the corner of the panel. Nora tossed the photo into a pile with several other pictures of rock art panels.
Abigail rocked on her heels. “What about Cole? Doesn’t he miss you? You shouldn’t leave him alone too long.”
Nora sat back in her chair. “Have you talked to him lately?” Abigail and Cole had a whole relationship separate from Nora. They’d conspired last year to get Nora together with Cole.
Abigail frowned. “No. Why? Is something wrong?”
Nora shook her head. “He’s in Wyoming. His father’s health is failing and there’s something going on with his family.”
“There’s something else, isn’t there? What is it?” Abigail advanced on her.
“Nothing.” Nora picked up a map of northern Arizona and dropped it on the map pile. “It’s just…”
“Just what?”
Nora sipped her coffee and nearly gagged. She’d forgotten about the creamer. “He sounded funny on the phone. And he said…” Nora trailed off, knowing it was going to sound silly.
“He said what?” Abigail’s impatience surfaced. Nora pushed her hair back. “He said he loved me.” Abigail stared at her.
“I know, you think that’s good, but it’s not like him. It’s weird. To me, it sounded like one of those things like, ‘I’ll always love you, but it’s over.’”
Abigail brightened. “Don’t be stupid. Cole telling you he loves you obviously means he’s going to ask you to marry him.”
Wait. What? Marry him? Nora shook her head. “No. He’s probably upset about his father.”
“Nora.” Abigail sounded exasperated. “It means a proposal. I have experience with these things and I just know.”
It isn’t as if she hadn’t thought about it. “No. It’s too soon. Besides, if he wanted to marry me, he’d discuss it with me.” Nora went back to sorting Lisa’s papers.
Abigail might be all giddy and excited about a wedding, but not Nora. Something was up with Cole, and Nora braced for the worst. When it hit, having her mother around wouldn’t be a bad thing. “What’s the big rush to go to back to Flagstaff?” Nora said without looking up. “I haven’t seen you for a while.”
Abigail spoke into the French doors. “Don’t you need to get back to work? Charles and I can come up to Boulder in a few weeks, after things settle down.”
This jumble of papers seemed daunting. Nora’s battered emotions clenched again when she thought of all the note-taking systems she’d offered Lisa over the years. She’d sent her day planners, lovely little notebooks, custom-made sticky notes, yellow legal pads, anything to help Lisa organize her life. As far as she knew, Lisa burned it all at summer solstice and danced around the bonfire naked.
Rachel wouldn’t help her with this mess. Maybe Marlene could give her some insight. Nora glanced at the clock. She calculated. If she left here in fifteen minutes, she could get to town when the Read Rock opened.
“I’d think you’d work much better at your own office instead of this foreign environment.”
Nora noticed the tension in Abigail’s voice. “Why do you want me to leave?”
Abigail whirled around, a too-bright smile on her face. “Oh, it’s not that. Not that at all.”
This behavior seemed odd, even for Abigail, who often baffled Nora. “You’re itching to get out of here and are trying to get me to leave, too. Why?”
Abigail kept her false cheer and opened her mouth as if to deny it. Nora narrowed her eyes. “Tell me.”
Abigail bit her lower lip. Not a good sign. She set her cup on the edge of the desk, inhaled, then exhaled and folded her arms in front of her. “I just don’t like being here. It reminds me too much of Dan.”
Dan. Nora’s heart jumped. Abigail hardly ever used her father’s name. “How long were you here with him?”
Abigail’s eyes lost focus, as if she watched her past. “Not more than a week. But the air feels charged with him. It makes me miss Dan, and that feels like cheating on Charles.”
If Nora moved, it might stop Abigail mid-story. “Charlie understands he isn’t your first love. He had a whole life before he met you, too,” Nora assured her.
Abigail brought her focus back to the room, all business. “Of course he did.”
Nora paused to let the last sentence drop. “Maybe you need to remember it all. Live it and embrace it, and then you can let it go.”
Abigail tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “What are you up to?”
Nora stirred. “Stay here with me. Let’s spend some one-on-one time together. We’ll drive through Arches Park and you can tell me about my father.” Arches—where the rock formation Fiery Furnace stretched across the mesa.
Abigail shook her head. “Oh, no.” “Why not?”
“I don’t want to remember. There’s no good to come from dwelling on sad things. I don’t like being here.”
>
Nora stood and squeezed around the desk to stand in front of her mother. “Don’t you think you owe me something? Shouldn’t I know my father just a little?”
“I barely knew your father. We weren’t together more than two years. I’ve got nothing much to tell you.”
“Tell me what you remember,” Nora begged. “Please stay.”
Abigail studied Nora for a long time, but Nora doubted Abigail saw her. Eventually her eyes focused and she said, “No.”
15
When Charlie hadn’t shown up from his morning march, Nora had begged Abigail to drive her to Moab. She’d picked up her Jeep and drove through the quiet town to the parking lot behind the Read Rock, making sure Abbey would be cool and leaving the Jeep’s windows down. As she turned off the street, movement ahead caught her eye and she drew in a sharp breath. A battered stock trailer disappeared around a corner a few blocks away. The vehicle pulling it eased behind a building but before it did, Nora was sure she identified a white pickup.
So what? There were probably twenty white pickups in Moab. It didn’t mean Lee Evans was in town. Even if Lee was, what difference did it make? Just because he was sinister and opposed to everything Nora strove for, and he’d run her off the road yesterday, didn’t mean he was dangerous. Okay, it might mean that. She wondered just how violent his temper could be.
The sun already blasted down even though it was still too early for shoppers to line the streets. A dented, dusty late-model black Suburban was the only other vehicle in the lot.
Nora hurried through the alley, eyeing the graffiti rock art. She thought about taking a picture to give to Lisa for her collection before remembering Lisa was gone.
The sign in the front window of the Read Rock said they opened at nine, but when Nora tried the door at 9:10, it didn’t budge. Marlene didn’t seem like the type to open late. Nora peeked through the window.
The curtain to the back room rippled. Marlene probably worked in the back and didn’t realize the time. Nora banged on the door to alert her. A moment passed and Nora banged again.
After another few seconds, the curtain swept aside. Marlene burst through, glanced over her shoulder at the back room, then hurried to the front door. She unlocked it and frowned at Nora. “What do you want?”
Surprised at the abrupt greeting, Nora stammered. “I, uh, wanted to talk.” What a stupid thing to say. She’d meant to start off on a more friendly note and ease into the topic of the film project, even though Marlene made it clear yesterday she didn’t think Nora should pursue it.
Marlene didn’t step aside to let Nora inside. She tilted her head, as though fighting not to look behind her. “Sure. There’s a café down about two blocks. I haven’t had breakfast. I’ll meet you there.”
She shut the door and locked it again. Nora leaned toward the glass and watched Marlene hurry to the back room.
Nora was still puzzling over Marlene’s strange behavior ten minutes later as she sipped an iced chai and sat in the dappled sunshine on the patio of a funky little vegetarian café. Flat sandstone slabs created an uneven surface and the tables and chairs rocked with movement. A koi pond gurgled behind her and busy black scavenger birds perched on chair backs awaiting the slightest ebb in vigilance when they’d swoop in and steal crumbs from tables and plates.
Nora gazed out at the red cliffs to the west that created one side of the deep canyon that housed Moab. The fresh morning air brightened the patio that overflowed with white tea roses, fragrant honeysuckle, bright purple irises, and brilliant blue cornflowers.
Most of the customers seemed to be regulars—not the old-time cowboy contingent but the rock climbers, bike riders, and Earth savers. Lots of rumpled, free trade clothes to go with the free trade coffee and vegetarian entrees. Nora had eaten here several times with Lisa. They could make a mean tempeh BLT and had a pretty tasty quiche of the day. This morning, Nora picked at a soyrizzo breakfast burrito and waited.
The café sat on the highway that ran through Moab and served as one of its main commerce streets. Four lanes and a wide median made the road an ordeal to cross on foot. Cars and SUVs whizzed by, the day heating up with tourist activity. There a big race in town and everyone seemed to buzz with excitement.
A table of what appeared to be affluent retirees chatted over steel-cut organic oatmeal and vegan scones. They looked fit and wore spotless outdoor gear adorned with the labels of the most expensive outfitters. A group of twenty-somethings who looked and smelled as if they’d been living in the desert for a week grabbed a table on the patio.
One of the women from the table of well-dressed couples stood and approached the youngsters. She gave them a sincere, concerned face. “Good morning. Are you here for the bike race?”
One of the young women, her brown hair in a wispy pony tail, smiled up at her. “We’ve been here all week. It’s a great event.”
The dark-haired woman nodded. “I’m sure you’ve noticed some of the unauthorized HOV trails cutting through the fragile landscapes.” She sounded like a public service announcement. Two girls and one guy near the end of the table nodded and gave her their attention while the other people in the group carried on with their own animated conversation.
She continued as if lecturing her children. “We’re trying to place restrictions on people running all over the place with their ATVs. The locals don’t seem to understand the land is delicate. They abuse it as if it is worthless.”
The young people looked trapped and uncomfortable. One of the girls shifted away and joined her friends’ conversation. The other two looked trapped.
“These old ranchers don’t even know about global warming.” The two young people exchanged a look of desperation.
Marlene shot down the sidewalk. She wore a deep red flowing skirt with vibrant embroidery along the hem. Her sleeveless shirt dipped in a low V in front, hid by a filmy turquoise print scarf.
The finely coiffed woman continued her practiced speech. “They over-graze the sparse prairie lands that have no chance to recuperate, thinking the weather patterns of their ancestors will hold today. But they don’t realize their forefathers stripped the land and it needs to rejuvenate without the hooves and teeth of cows.”
The girl nodded and stood. “Did you want us to sign a petition or something?”
The woman seemed encouraged by the question. She snapped her fingers at the table where her cohorts sat. One of the men jumped up, grabbing a spiral notebook and pen. He hurried over.
The woman snatched it from him and flipped it open. “If you’ll give me your e-mail addresses, I’ll put you on our action alert list. We’ll contact you when we need you to write your lawmakers and advocate for this special place.”
Marlene strode to the front door of the café and caught Nora’s attention. “I’ll order and be right out,” she called. The white pickup pulling the stock trailer slowed and parked on the curb across the street as the two well-dressed couples stared. They leaned across the table and began to talk excitedly. Nerves twanged the first bar of Dueling Banjos in Nora’s chest as she recognized the black cowboy hat.
A raven squawked on the table and Nora jumped for her phone, happy to see Cole’s ID. “Hi!” she answered.
After a few seconds of hellos and where are yous, Cole said, “When are you going home?”
“I need to stick around here for a day or two.” She kept her eyes on the white pickup.
“Abigail just called. She’s worried.” He didn’t sound happy.
Lee Evans stepped from his pickup. He hurried up the sidewalk and inside a river raft outfitter’s office. Why would a cowboy like Lee go into a river raft outfitters? “About what?”
“She said you’re not accepting Lisa’s death and she’s afraid you’ll get hurt like Lisa did,” Cole explained.
She couldn’t tell Cole her suspicions about Lisa’s death. “I need to find Lisa’s camera. I think she might have hidden it. I’ll be careful.”
Frustration darkened his voice. �
�Why would she hide her camera?” As the conversation continued, Nora noticed a yacht of an SUV pull up and park along the street in front of Lee’s pickup. A blond man and woman climbed out, followed by four kids. A little girl of about five, with fine dark ringlets haloing her head, trotted up the street, the lights adorning the bottoms of her sneakers twinkling. The adults wore worried frowns and scanned the street. The mother called to the little girl and herded all the children inside the outfitter’s office.
She knew someone wanted to kill her and put information on the camera she hid. She thought I’d know where to look. Nora watered it down for him. “She was scared of something.”
He sighed. “You got all that from her voicemail? Please, just come home. Ever since I’ve met you, trouble finds you. So far I’ve been around to protect you, but I can’t now.”
Her jaw hardened. “I don’t need you to protect me.”
“Hey! No! Wait!” Cole shouted away from the phone. He came back on the line. “We’re branding some calves, and I’ve gotta go. Do me a favor. Just head back to Boulder.”
“Is that an order?”
“Damn it, Nora.” He’d never taken an angry tone with her, and he sounded as shocked as she felt. He sighed. “Do whatever you want.” He must have thought he hung up, but she heard the phone clunk as if dropped on the pickup seat. Cole hollered in the distance. She was about to hang up when a woman spoke into the phone. “Who is this?”
The voice took Nora by surprise. “This is Cole’s phone.” She thought maybe the woman didn’t know.
“Yes. And you are?” The woman definitely sounded annoyed.
“I’m Cole’s friend,” Nora answered, trying to sound bolder than she felt. “Who are you?”
“His wife.”
16
Nora punched her phone off and stared at it. She couldn’t move.
Breathe, she ordered herself and sucked in air. Married? Cole’s wife. Wife! This couldn’t be.
The Nora Abbott Mystery series Box Set Page 65
