“Did you raise a lot of campaign money today?” She sank into a chair.
He took a long pull and sighed. “It wasn’t really about the money.
We’ve got a lot of work to do with getting the locals on board.”
“It didn’t look like many ranchers or native Moab folks were there today.” Except Lee.
“That’s the problem. The activists and environmentalists that have retired here or moved here in the last few years have more money than the old timers. But votes are votes. We need to find a way to talk to the traditionalists and get them to understand how important it is to protect Canyonlands.”
“As much as I’d like the locals on board,”—if for no other reason than to keep them from trying to kill us—“the decision is really out of their hands. It’s up to Congress.”
He gulped his beer. “Right. Did you make any progress on finding Lisa’s camera?”
The beer tasted bitter and she set it aside and stood. “Since the cops won’t help, I went out to Lee’s ranch this afternoon.”
He sat up at full attention. “You shouldn’t have done that. He’s dangerous.”
“I didn’t know he owned the Tokpela Ranch. Lisa seemed interested in it so I wanted to check it out.”
He set his empty bottle on the porch floor. “What did Lisa … ?” She interrupted him. “He’s a polygamist.”
Darrell stared at her. “How do you know?”
She waved him off. “There were a couple of wives and a ton of children and this creepy old lady. It’s obvious. But there’s something else.”
He leaned back and studied her. “What?”
“I can’t figure it out, but it has something to do with this symbol I saw on petroglyphs today. It’s three concentric circles, like a target. Then lines run outward, like rays. Or kind of like the state symbol for New Mexico, but instead of several lines coming out from one circle in four directions, two lines shoot out in six directions. ”
He laughed. “What are you talking about?”
She sounded like Abigail chattering away and realized she’d probably inherited that tendency.
“This symbol that I saw on the rock is the same one painted on the side of Lee’s barn.”
He tilted his head as if waiting for more. “Uh-huh?” “It means something.” She pointed out the obvious.
“What does it mean?” He stood up and walked to where she’d planted herself by the rail.
She paced away. “I don’t know. That’s the problem.”
“Maybe he likes the symbol. You know, like the coil symbol you see everywhere or the hand or kokopelli. People tack them up on their houses or jewelry because they like the design, not necessarily because of their meaning.”
The coil he talked about was a Hopi symbol telling the story of their ancient migrations. After they’d climbed from the Third World into the new and improved Fourth World, they wandered for years, probably centuries, until they settled on the garden spot of the three mesas in barren, sun-scorched Northern Arizona. The more time she spent on the mesas, the more she appreciated the hidden beauty. The Hopi might have settled in the desert but they’d figured out a way to survive and knew how to grow corn and other food. Benny had taken her to spots of lush green hidden from the casual visitor.
“Everything on the Hopi reservation has a meaning. Those symbols represent something.”
“Maybe they aren’t Hopi.” He followed her to where she’d retreated across the porch.
“They might not be. But they’re ancient. The Hopi traveled all over this area centuries ago. They claim to be descendants of the Anasazi.” She hesitated. “My cousin on the rez will know.”
“You’ve talked to him?” Darrell asked.
She swallowed a gulp of beer. “He’s not answering his phone. He probably let the battery die. He’s got a generator for electricity, but he doesn’t use it all the time.”
“Why not?”
Good question. “I haven’t figured out how he decides which modern conveniences to use and when. He grows most of his own food, but then also had prepackaged stuff. He has a cell phone but only uses it sometimes.”
Darrell seemed to consider that. “Interesting.”
It normally fascinated Nora, but not tonight. “I need to figure out what the symbol means.”
Darrell seemed to have lost interest in the conversation. He studied her face. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
No. She didn’t want any personal questions. She shrugged. “Sure.” “Are you in a relationship?”
Yes. Cole and I should be together. We were together. Until we weren’t. “Yes. No. Not anymore. I mean, it’s complicated.”
He waited a moment. “I’m sorry. It must be a recent breakup?” “Very recent.” She didn’t want to talk about it. And she didn’t
want Darrell standing quite as close to her as he was. “I’m sorry.” His voice softened like melting ice cream.
She stepped back. “I’m sorting through Lisa’s desk drawers. I’ll bet she left some clue for me about where the camera is hidden.”
A small smile played on his face as if acknowledging her not-so-subtle topic change. “I’m a good politician. I can mediate disputes and persuade. I can talk to people who don’t agree with me and negotiate different positions. But I’m a disaster in my personal life. As you can see from me being thirty-five and still single.”
“Single is not a bad thing.” Single is fine.
His confidence evaporated in an uncertain smile. “Even strong people need a partner.”
Time to change the subject. “What do you know about Lee? You grew up around here, right? Did you know each other when you were younger?”
He dropped his shoulders, the long day falling on him. “I left this place when I was young. My mother and I moved to Salt Lake City. I didn’t come back until I had finished law school. Don’t tell anyone, but I really came back to establish residency so I could run for office here.”
Nora pulled her hoodie closer to ward off the night’s chill. “Lee’s lived here all his life; do people like him?”
“He’s kind of anti-social, don’t you think? If you’re right and he is a polygamist, he probably doesn’t want to call attention to himself. Polygamy is still against the law, even if it is tolerated.”
Nora eyed Darrell, weighing whether to tell him her suspicions. Maybe he could help. “I’m sure he messed with my brakes. And,” she inhaled, “I think he killed Lisa.”
Darrell grabbed her hand, startling her. “Leave him alone. Go back to Boulder, send your mother back to Flagstaff. I’ll do what needs to be done here. I want you safe, Nora.”
“You believe me?” Part of her hoped he’d convince her it was all coincidence.
Darrell stared into the darkness. “Lee’s afraid of losing his way of life. He’s desperate.”
“I just need undeniable proof, then I can go to the FBI or tell someone not connected to this place.”
“I won’t allow it!” he hissed. It sounded like a shout in the quiet night.
The words fell to the porch floor like a bucket of cold water. They faced each other and it was hard to tell who was more surprised.
“You won’t allow it?”
He rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m beat and the thought of you getting hurt upsets me.”
He may act charming and steady, but a crack here and there gave Nora the uneasy feeling he might not be so perfect.
He pulled his phone from his pocket. “Don’t do anything right now. Let me make a phone call and see what I can get going.”
“Now?”
He gave her a tired grin. “I know people who never sleep.”
She watched him plod down the porch steps, murmuring into his phone. The screen door squealed and Nora jumped.
“What was that about?” Abigail stepped onto the darkened porch wearing her pink bathrobe and slippers. She smelled of expensive face cream and her skin sparkled in the glow of the can
dle. Darrell stood with his back to the porch, his voice vibrating quietly. “He’s calling someone to help prove Lee is guilty of Lisa’s murder.”
Abigail frowned at Darrell but she didn’t argue. She must be starting to accept the possibility.
“I thought you’d gone to bed,” Nora said.
“I can’t sleep. I came down for some warm milk. Where do you suppose Rachel’s gone?”
Nora shrugged. Abigail folded her arms. “You need to call Cole. His pride won’t let him call you.”
Abigail had her priorities. Murder and white slavery took second place to romance. “Pride? I’d say it’s more like his wife that won’t let him call.”
“So ‘it’s your party and you’ll cry if you want to.’”
Nora lowered herself to sit on the front step. Abbey got to his feet and ambled over to sit next to her. He put a paw into her lap. She trailed her fingers through his fur. “This hardly seems like the time to discuss my love life.”
Abigail leaned against the porch rail. “Or lack thereof.”
Irritated, Nora stood, disturbing Abbey. He trotted down the porch steps. “I need to go to the rez.”
Abigail furrowed her brow. “In Arizona? That seems a bit out of the blue.”
“Benny’s not answering his phone and I need to know what that symbol means.”
“You think Benny can help?”
Nora moved close to Abigail to give her some warmth. “I don’t know, but he’s the best source I can think of.”
Abigail wrapped an arm around Nora.
Nora studied the dark circles under her mother’s eyes. “What upset you so much today?”
Abigail waved her arm in the air. “Oh, I don’t know.” Her voice rang with sarcasm. “Your antique car fell apart and nearly killed us, and if that wasn’t enough, you drove us out to a hostile enemy camp to be harassed by polygamists. And then there’s the possibility Lee Evans is a murderer.”
“You got spooked when you saw the rock art, then seeing Warren Evans at the restaurant pushed you to the edge, and the symbols on the barn just about did you in. What’s going on?”
Abigail swiveled and swung the screen door open. Her slippers scuffed across the wood floor toward the kitchen.
Nora followed. “Does all this remind you too much of Dan?”
The glow from the refrigerator light glistened on Abigail’s greased cheeks. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then what?” Nora tucked one leg under herself and perched on the edge of a stool.
Abigail snatched the milk carton and slammed the door closed, shutting off the light. “Then nothing.”
“Lisa’s brakes went out about a week ago.”
Abigail thumped the milk carton on the counter. Her face paled. “Lee Evans is dangerous.”
Abigail gasped as if discovering a new horror. Her fist flew to her mouth. “No.”
Nora jumped up.
“Evans. It has to be.” Abigail slumped against the counter and gripped the edge.
Afraid her mother might be having a stroke, Nora rounded the counter to Abigail. “What is it?”
Abigail trembled. “Evans is a common name so I didn’t put it together, but it has to be.”
Glad her mother hadn’t fallen to the floor clutching her head, Nora said, “What?”
“Lee Evans is related to Warren.”
Warren had no children. Nora remembered that from business school when she and her friends joked about getting him to adopt them. Lee must be a nephew or cousin or something.
Tears glistened in Abigail’s eyes. She trembled. “I didn’t see it before.”
Nora led Abigail to the couch and sat her down. She clicked on a lamp, glad for the soft glow of the stained glass shade. “Didn’t see what? Tell me.”
Abigail’s cloudy eyes cleared and she collected herself. “It’s Warren Evans.”
“What does Warren Evans have to do with this?”
Nora waited for Abigail to explain, fighting the urge to squirm, shake her mother, or simply crawl up the side of the wall to expel tension.
Finally, Abigail started. “I thought your father’s car crash was an accident. It didn’t occur to me that Warren killed him.”
Whatever Nora expected, it wasn’t this.
Abigail’s voice shook. “His car flipped going around a curve. At the bottom of a steep hill. The brakes went out because there was no fluid in the brake line.”
“What?” Nora couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
Abigail swallowed, hardening her tone. “It had to be Warren.” “Why do you say that?”
Abigail inhaled. “Dan and I met Warren here, in Moab. In fact, at that place where we were today. The rock art panel.”
“And that’s why you got upset?” Nora asked.
Abigail seemed to float back to that time. “Warren was sitting there studying the panel when we hiked out there. He had all this wild, dark hair and even wilder eyes. He was so suntanned he looked like he could have been related to your father.
“He didn’t say anything at first, just watched. We’d been laughing and chatting on the hike up there, but as soon as Dan saw the petroglyphs, he became serious. It made me nervous the way he stared at them for so long.”
Nora tried to picture a young Abigail holding hands and flirting with a Hopi man.
“After a time, Warren stood up and introduced himself. He started asking Dan questions about the symbols. I could tell Dan didn’t want to answer.” Abigail considered Nora. “Well, you know how secretive Hopi are. And the symbols seemed important to your father.
“Warren was polite and friendly. He dropped his questioning right away. See, even back then, he knew how to work people. He offered to show us around the area. Dan was reluctant but I thought Warren was fun and nice and he knew where the great hiking and camping and swimming places were. We told him all about CU and exchanged phone numbers.
“The week after we returned to Boulder, Warren showed up. He got a job and earned money so he could go to school the next semester.”
None of this explained why he would kill Nora’s father. She waited for Abigail to continue.
“He seemed to always be around. I thought he was one of those woo-woo types who wanted to understand the relationship Indians have with the earth and sky and all of that.”
Abigail’s hands wound round and round each other in her lap. “Dan didn’t like to talk about his beliefs. But he was always polite and sometimes he just couldn’t avoid telling Warren things.”
“Warren Evans, the guy who amassed a fortune, was a Hopi wannabe?”
Abigail fluttered her hands. “I don’t know what he was. Maybe it was his excuse.”
“Excuse for what?”
Abigail fidgeted. Her voice sounded like someone had stretched her vocal chords. “I should have put a stop to him coming over. It seemed like he was always there. Even when Dan was at class.”
Abigail rocked slightly. “I didn’t think too much about it. And, I’m sorry to say, I enjoyed the company because Dan was studying so hard and not home a lot and I got lonely. And Warren was so charming.”
Her rocking accelerated and her voice broke. “I probably did something to encourage him. I don’t know what. I didn’t mean to, I know. We just became good friends because he was there so often. At least for me, it was only friendship.”
Nora put a hand on Abigail’s back and her mother startled. “What happened?”
Abigail jumped up and paced to the window. “I should never have let him be there when Dan wasn’t home. It gave him ideas. It must have suggested I liked him. Liked him in that way.”
Nora didn’t want to hear the rest, but knew not to stop Abigail from purging a secret buried so long.
“He.” A sob escaped. “Warren. He. He.” She covered her face with her hands. “He… took me. Right there. In our apartment. On the floor in front of our broken sofa.”
A wave of ice crashed around Nora’s head. She held her breath against the sho
ck. Her paralysis broke and Nora rushed to Abigail. She pulled her close and held her while Abigail sobbed. When the worst had subsided, she led her mother to the couch and lowered her to sit.
Abigail found a tissue in her robe pocket. “I never told Dan.” “And you think Warren killed my father? Why? Jealousy?”
Abigail closed her eyes. “I never considered it, honestly. But now I see the coincidence of the brakes and I add it to the… incident. And then the fight Dan and Warren had the day before the accident. It all makes sense.”
“They had a fight?”
Abigail blew her nose and got up to dispose of the tissue and pluck another from the box on the kitchen counter. “I came home from class and heard shouting from our apartment. Dan never raised his voice. Dan was Hopi and believed in peace. But something had him more upset than I’d ever seen him. I opened the door and he was calling Warren stupid. Stupid! I’d never heard Dan say anything so mean. “When they saw me, Warren ran out. Dan refused to tell me anything. And the next day, he died.”
Nora pictured the scene. Dan, dark skinned, black hair cut in a bowl, his eyes sharp. Actually, she pictured him looking like her cousin Benny. Warren, shoulder-length hippie hair, faded bell bottoms, calculating expression. And Abigail. Nora still fought to see her in jeans, maybe a bandana, a peasant blouse …
Peasant blouse. Over a pregnant belly? If Dan died the next day, Abigail would have been pregnant with Nora when Warren raped her. According to Abigail, Nora had been born after her father died. Nine months after? Or six? It made a difference.
Nora’s heart thudded. “How long after Dan’s accident was I born?” Abigail’s eyes flew open.
Nora squeezed Abigail’s thigh. “How long, Mother?”
“It’s not what you think,” Abigail said. “Dan is your father!” “Could it have been Warren Evans? Is it possible?”
“You were born eight months after Dan died. You were not pre-mature. I know Dan is your father.”
“You don’t know!” Nora’s chest constricted. She struggled for the words. “Warren Evans could be my father.”
Abigail shook her head, tears streaming from her eyes. A floorboard on the porch creaked.
Nora swung her head around. She’d forgotten Darrell.
The Nora Abbott Mystery series Box Set Page 73
