The woman strode across the dirt carrying a red plastic bucket. When she stopped in front of them, Nora saw the bucket contained a dozen or so brown eggs. She glanced behind the woman to a shack with a low roof in the shade of the barn. The door stood open and white hens pecked at the ground.
The woman held a hand up to shield the sun. “That curve to the highway can be easy to miss. You aren’t the first one to keep going straight and end up here instead of turning back toward the highway.” A stooped slip of a woman stepped onto the porch of the stone house. She wore a housedress covered by a full apron in a pastel print. Wrinkles as deep as the slot canyons ran along her face. She descended the porch steps quicker than Nora would have thought possible. She tottered over to them in a rushed gait that rocked from one foot to another. The top of her balding head barely reached Abigail’s shoulder.
Abigail smiled at her. “Good afternoon. This is a lovely place.” She indicated the stone house behind the woman. “When was it built?”
The little woman’s face soured, as if detecting some sort of falseness in Abigail’s compliment. “It’s old. Like me. If you go back up the road a piece, you’ll see where you turned wrong. Won’t take but an extra fifteen minutes.”
What was Nora going to say to the woman? Should she tell them they weren’t lost tourists? What good would that do? While she debated her next move, she watched the blonde woman. Something about her looked familiar. Then it clicked.
Rachel. She looked like an older version—she had the same thin blonde hair, same blue eyes, round face, and guarded expression. She supposed that wasn’t unusual. The gene pool around here might be pretty shallow and the families large. Rachel had to be related to many of them.
Abigail stepped closer to the house. “The colors of the stone are really striking, especially in the sunlight. It looks like the house was built first and all the others sort of came along as money and need dictated.”
The old woman’s distaste showed in her beady eyes. “You from Salt Lake City? LDS?”
Abigail was undaunted. “How many generations have lived here?
I’ll bet you are descended from the first homesteaders.”
The wizened woman frowned outright. “We mostly like it out here because no one bothers us.”
The younger woman, who was probably ten years or so older than Nora, maybe in her mid-forties, forced a smile. “Lydia doesn’t mean to be rude, but she’s right—we’re busy.”
Nora thought the old woman did, indeed, mean to be rude. “Cassie and me got a lot to get done this time of year. Like I said, follow the road back out and you won’t get lost.”
The front door of the big house opened and another blonde woman emerged. From where Nora stood, about thirty yards away, she appeared much younger than the egg woman, Cassie. She resembled Rachel as well, and looked to be in the home stretch of pregnancy. A tow-headed toddler tumbled out the door after her.
Abigail appeared not to notice. She addressed Cassie. “Your garden is very impressive. I like to think of myself as an amateur horticulturist, but even if I had the space, I couldn’t possibly raise a garden like that without a crew to help with the work or people to eat the produce. Do you raise other livestock, too?”
Abigail sounded too nosy for a random tourist and Cassie’s expression hardened by the second. “We make organic cheese and sell it at farmer’s markets.”
The pregnant woman stepped off the concrete slab that served as a front porch. She held the hand of the child as he, or she, tottered into the grass. Nora looked for the little girls sitting in the old woman’s yard. Sometime during the conversation they had sneaked off.
Abigail suddenly strode out, heading across the dirt toward the barn. “Was that chard I saw growing in your garden? Is it a particularly hardy hybrid to stand the cold nights this time of year? You know, I love the early vegetables. The peas and lettuces and broccoli.” Cassie took off after her. Lydia scowled at Nora. “That’s a chattery old fool.”
The pregnant woman stretched and rubbed her lower back. She glanced over to where Nora and Lydia stood. Her head jerked to the Jeep. She bent over, scooped up the toddler, and hurried into the house. Abigail succeeded in getting to the garden, Cassie in tow. Her perky chatter carried across the yard. Annoying at her best of times, when she put an effort into it, Abigail could make Mother Teresa snap. Although Cassie seemed nice enough, she was no saint. “We don’t allow tourists in our garden.”
“Oh, look at these carrots. How do you keep your rows so straight?” Abigail was doing her best to distract Cassie.
A lot of good it did Nora, with Lydia eyeing her like a hawk sizes up a mouse.
Nora struggled for something to say while trying to take in everything in the compound. “You should have seen her at the Hopi reservation. She kept looking in people’s houses.”
Lydia perked up, her eyes becoming lasers. “Hopi? Not LDS?”
Lydia’s reaction seemed strange but then, nothing about this place was normal. Nora understood why she kept asking if they were LDS since the mainstream church didn’t approve of polygamists and this place could be one of those cults Marlene spoke of. But why would mentioning Hopi set her off? “I’ve got friends on Second Mesa.”
Lydia flicked her hands in a “scat” motion. “It’s time for you to leave. Pick up that fool and get gone.”
There wouldn’t be any finessing this woman. Abigail crossed the yard toward Nora and Cassie stormed behind her with a stony face. They heard the rumble of an engine. Whoever was coming might mean trouble for Nora and Abigail. They should leave now. “Come on, Mother. We should go.” Nora tried not to appear panicked as she hurried back to the Jeep.
Abigail slowed her pace even though Cassie seemed determined to keep her moving. “I’d love to see the inside of the barn. I’ll bet it has some history. When did the Mormons settle this part of the country?” Wheels rattled on a cattle guard, warning of an approaching vehicle. Nora tried to sound casual. “Mother? I think we’ve bothered these people enough. We really should be heading back.”
“Perhaps we could come back another day,” Abigail said, not making a move toward the Jeep.
The hood, then cab, then bed of a white pickup popped around the barn, taking the curve of the road into the yard. The silhouette of a black hat hung in its rear window. Lee.
Was the Tokpela Ranch his? If so, that doubled Nora’s suspicions. Abigail finally noticed it. She spun around and skipped to the Jeep.
“Thank you much for the tour. You have a lovely spread here.” Spread?
They both jumped into the Jeep and slammed the doors. Nora turned the key and shifted into reverse.
She twisted to look behind her, aware that a couple of children could be anywhere.
The white pickup loomed in her rearview mirror like a shark with open jaws.
Nora spun around, jammed the gear into first, and eased off the clutch to crawl forward. She might have to run across the yard a little, but she’d just be able to squeeze around the hitching post.
Before she moved more than an inch, though, Lee jumped in front of the Jeep and banged his fists on the hood. The clang made Abigail scream.
Nora squeezed her brakes.
He slapped the hood of the Jeep again and glared at her. Abbey barked. The noise gnawed through her control. She disengaged the gear lever.
Cassie joined Lee in front of the Jeep. Her fierce expression was even more frightening than Lee’s. Lydia, probably the scariest of all, hobbled in that see-saw way toward them.
Nora grabbed the door handle and Abigail clutched at her. “Don’t go out there. This is an evil cult and they’ll take you into the barn for human sacrifice.”
While that jibed with Nora’s imaginative scenario, it seemed an exaggerated response, even in Nora-world.
She jumped out of the Jeep, slamming the door before Abbey could join her. With way more courage than she felt, Nora demanded, “Get out of the way.”
Lee strode over to her
. She fought the wise urge to run. He stopped within inches of her, breathing hard. “What do you want?”
Nora countered with, “Did you mess with my brakes?”
He let out air as though she’d punched his stomach. His face clouded. “Did I what?”
Nora felt a little momentum shift her way. “Like you tampered with Lisa’s brakes.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re crazy, aren’t you?”
Nora imagined him slipping his hands around her throat and squeezing her like a chicken. A smart woman would bolt, run for the hills. But even if Nora could leave Abigail to fend for herself, locked in the Jeep, she wouldn’t get far with Cassie standing a few feet behind her. Her only weapon was her wits.
They were screwed.
“It wouldn’t be a good idea to hurt us. Everyone knows we came out here. If we don’t show up in town, they’ll come after you.” Sweat beaded on her lip and pooled under her arms.
He smirked. “Everyone? Rachel?” He chuckled.
She didn’t see the little girls so she wouldn’t have to worry about flattening them with the Jeep in a quick getaway. If she jumped in and gunned it, they could probably make it out of here. Lee didn’t have a gun in his hand, so he’d have to get to his pickup to chase them down. “She’s not the only one who knows we’re here. We told Marlene. She already suspects you killed Lisa.” How would he react to an accusation of murder?
He laughed. “Half the town of Moab thinks I killed Lisa. They’re convinced I swallow hikers whole. They suspect I kill cyclists and sell their mountain bikes on the black market. They can’t prove it any more than you can prove I messed with your Jeep.”
His ridicule brought out her anger. “Did you hate Lisa because she was a lesbian or because of her work to expand the park? Or maybe it was something else.” Like her helping rescue girls from polygamist cults like yours?
Cassie let out a huff of annoyance.
He spoke slowly. “I wasn’t the one trying to change her way of life. She—and all you people—are working pretty darned hard to destroy mine.”
So you killed her. She didn’t say the words out loud but they must have been plain on her face.
His face looked like black thunder. “Lisa was someplace she shouldn’t have been and she had an accident.”
Cassie put a hand on her hip. “You don’t belong here, sister.”
The air felt like lead as Nora tried to steady her breath. Was this where they’d drag Nora and Abigail away and bludgeon them?
Lee’s hateful eyes bored into her. “You’d best get while you can. You’re too scrawny to do much good, but we can always use some bones for soup.”
Cassie lunged forward, as if to attack, and laughed.
Nora marched to her Jeep with as much dignity as she could muster. She pulled open the door and pushed Abbey into the back seat.
Abigail’s voice squeaked. “Could we please get out of here?”
Nora turned at the anxiety in her mother’s tone. Abigail sat straight, staring ahead, all blood drained from her face. Her hands trembled.
Lydia stood outside Abigail’s rolled-up window. Her creepy dried apple face hovered only inches away, a malevolent and toothless grin aimed at Abigail. The nightmares from that image would stay with Nora for a very long time.
Nora eased forward, the vehicle nearly brushing the hitching post. As soon as she straightened the wheel, she surveyed the area for any stray children, saw none, and gunned the engine. They sped around the curve by the garden and down the road.
Nora’s insides felt as solid as the marshy lake in the meadow. Her hands shook on the wheel. “That was straight out of a horror movie. I expected an army of zombies to come out of the barn with scythes and torches.”
Abigail reached for her handbag and rummaged inside. Her hands shook every bit as much as Nora’s. She pulled a lipstick case out and opened it, taking out the tube. She held the case open for the mirror and started to apply the lipstick. She shook too hard for precision and dropped both hands to her lap. “They lacked basic social graces.”
That was the worst Abigail could come up with? “Can you imagine tea and cookies with Granny Evil?”
Abigail shook her head. “The woman should have started a good skin regimen about eighty years ago.”
They laughed and it eased some of the strain.
Nora didn’t start breathing regularly until they found the road to the highway and headed safely toward civilization. “Marlene knows they’re dangerous. That’s why she told me to stay away.”
Abigail finished a successful attempt at her lipstick and slid the kit into her bag. Her voice shook and she clutched her hands together. “Who knew farmer’s markets could be so lucrative?”
“What do you mean?”
“I assumed they’d have a couple of old tractors in that big barn. But they had three SUVs back there. One of them was an Escalade.”
What?
Recognition slipped into place. The dark-haired little girl sitting on the grass reminded Nora of the little girl outside the outfitters in Moab yesterday. She wore the same purple T-shirt and light-up shoes. Wasn’t she getting into an Escalade?
“Something else,” Abigail said. “There’s more?”
“You know those images on the petroglyphs? The symbols you were so fascinated with?”
“The symbols you said my father doodled?” “Yes. Well, that was painted on the barn.”
27
Crickets chirped somewhere in the desert beyond Lisa’s front porch as night closed around the cabin. The glow from a citronella candle gave the only light. Abbey stretched on the porch floor, twitching in the rabbit hunt of his dreams.
The boards on the north end of the porch squeaked again as Nora pivoted and paced back to the south. She was convinced Lee had tampered with her breaks and tried to kill her and Abigail. He’d murdered Lisa. Did he really think he could eliminate everyone advocating park expansion? He’d eventually run out of clever ways to arrange accidents and the environmentalists would keep coming. Sort of like the Indians trying to staunch the flow of white immigrants two hundred years ago. Right or wrong, Lee would lose.
But Nora didn’t care about the park issues right now. Runaway girls, religious cults, and attempted murder seemed more important. Abigail had gone to ground. Actually, to her room. When they’d returned from the excursion to Tokpela, she’d marched upstairs and closed her door. She’d done her share of pacing, too, but Nora hadn’t heard movement since the sun set several hours ago. Maybe she’d finally gone to sleep.
Rachel wasn’t home when Nora and Abigail reached the cabin and still hadn’t returned.
Aside from the crickets, the night had the volume set on mute. The perfume of the sand, sage, and other scents from the typical afternoon shower didn’t do much to ease Nora’s concerns. A sliver of moon barely restrained the darkness. Nora wore Lisa’s old hoodie to ward off the chill.
Did whatever Lisa left on the camera reveal Lee’s threats to her or the runaway girls? Where would Lisa hide it so that Nora would find it? And what about the symbol? It was in Nora’s dreams, on Rachel’s pictures, and now on Lee’s barn.
Headlights swung from the dirt road to shine along the rutted driveway lane. Rachel must be coming home. Nora steeled herself. Rachel might be on a war path and want to engage Nora in combat. Or their truce from breakfast might hold and she’d want company.
The soft purr of an engine approached, sounding nothing like the rumble of Nora’s old Jeep. When it got closer, Nora let out a breath. It wasn’t Rachel’s Passat. The Toyota 4Runner belonged to Darrell. He shut the engine off and climbed out.
“I’m glad you’re still up,” he said. “I was afraid it’s too late. I got hung up in a meeting with some constituents, but I wanted to check on you and your mother.”
He plodded up the steps and leaned on the porch railing. Somewhere along the day, he’d pulled his tie off, leaving the collar open on his wrinkled blue shirt. Dark whiskers dusted his
chin and cheeks.
“You didn’t need to come all the way out here. We’re fine.” “You seemed pretty upset at the fundraiser this afternoon and I felt bad about not being able to help you.” He stood and held out his arms. “So here I am, even though it’s nearly midnight, at your disposal.”
His easy grin teased one of her own in response. “Can I get you something? A beer? Iced tea?”
He plopped into one of the Adirondack chairs and slumped down. “Mormons have some strict rules about alcohol and caffeine.”
She should have known better. “Let me see what Rachel has in the kitchen.”
He laughed. “I’d love a beer. But if you tell anyone, I’ll call you a liar.”
“I have to warn you, I crack under torture.”
“I’ll take my chances and hope the Mormon deacons don’t get a hold of you.”
She slipped into the house for the beers. The light from the refrigerator splashed across the dark kitchen. She was trying to flirt with Darrell, but it didn’t feel right.
It should be Cole on the front porch. They’d sit together on the steps, laugh and tease and share a kiss or two. Maybe even stroll into the soft night hand in hand. She pictured his lanky frame in his jeans and hiking boots, goofy grin on his face, pointing out the columbines on the hillside next to the trail. “I’d pick you a bouquet but I know you’d rather I let them live,” he’d say.
In the short time they’d been together, Cole seemed to understand her and know her from the inside out.
“Did you get lost?” Darrell’s voice floated in from the porch.
She reached inside and grabbed two bottles of beer, then shut the door. While she opened the bottles in the scant light from the window, she reminded herself that Cole was married and though she clung to some hope he’d work it out, she had to be prepared that he wouldn’t.
By the time she got back to the porch and handed Darrell his bottle, she’d found a smidgeon of equilibrium.
The Nora Abbott Mystery series Box Set Page 72
