Tattered Legacy (A Nora Abbott Mystery)

by Shannon Baker

  Seventeen

  Warren studied the rock art panel under the glass and let the hand of the ancients pull at him. His feet nestled in the plush of his carpet as he stood in the climate-controlled comfort of his office, but his mind soared over the high desert outside Moab. He felt the crunch of rough sand under his boots, squinting in the blazing sun.

  His strong, young body climbed the twists in the trail, winding through the spires of Fiery Furnace. The weathered rocks formed a forest of jutting hoodoos that created a maze so dense, hikers weren’t allowed to enter without a permit and guide. A hawk sailed overhead.

  Warren saw it all as if he were actually drawing breath in Utah. Heat radiated from the rocks that baked in the sun, but between the spires, shadows cooled the sand. Orange globemallow and pinkish milkweed bobbed in the constant wind sweeping across the open desert. Warren traveled deeper into the rocks that stood more dense than the towers that lined Wall Street.

  He tilted his head back and lifted his gaze to the revelation some twenty-five feet from the sandy floor. Warren remembered the day his destiny was revealed to him.

  The ancients wrote it on the rock for him to discover. His uncle had told him about the sacred drawings located here, but only after Warren had already discovered the messages written on the rocks at the ranch. It had taken Warren days of searching Fiery Furnace to find the rock that told him all he needed to know.

  He stared up at the rock and drifted between the past and future. The torment of the Third World’s end melded with the coming destruction. Warren saw it all, just as the ancients intended. He alone knew what was coming and had prepared for it.

  As they’d done that day over thirty years ago, the couple wandered into his view, interrupting his vision. He knew their meeting was not coincidence. The man, only slightly older than Warren, was obviously Native American. He had to be Hopi, sent to instruct Warren. It was no mystery why the ancients brought them together.

  Even now, all these years later, Warren’s heart still clutched when he thought of the woman. He’d never felt that way about anyone, before or since. He’d been consumed with her at first glance. Surely God had created her for him, and Warren thought she’d been sent to be his helpmate. But time proved God had only sent her to tempt Warren and harden his will while teaching him self-discipline.

  Warren’s phone rang and he whiplashed back to his weak body. He took a step toward his desk and his feet shrieked in pain, the neuropathy from the chemo plaguing him.

  He picked up the phone and dropped into his office chair, his eyes focusing on the rock art panel, hoping to hold on to the power of the ancients.

  “I think we’ve got a problem.” His nephew, always full of dire warnings.

  “I trust you can manage it.”

  “It’s that Nora Abbott woman. She’s nosing around. What if she finds out about Lisa Taylor’s death?”

  A minor annoyance at this stage, thought Warren.

  His nephew sounded distressed. “She was at the pick-up site today.”

  He clenched his fist. “Did she see anything?”

  Warren heard the worry in his nephew’s voice. “Don’t know. But she threw attention our way and that bookstore owner sure looked interested.”

  “Can’t Rachel get her to leave?” He’d hoped Rachel would join them. She’d had so many opportunities to destroy them, yet she’d kept her own counsel. But now that her friend—Warren couldn’t stomach the disgust he felt at the real definition of their relationship—was dead by his nephew’s hand, they’d need to keep her much closer. This was a critical time for Rachel. She’d either become one with them or turn against them.

  His nephew didn’t sound convinced. “I can try.”

  “I would prefer you don’t kill her.”

  Shock found its way to his nephew’s voice. “Rachel?”

  “Either of them.” They’d all known the far too independent Rachel since she was born and Warren preferred to keep her alive.

  The excitability that often led his nephew to bad decisions flowed in the voice on the phone. “I won’t if I don’t have to.”

  Warren crossed his leg over his knee and rubbed his foot, barely biting back a moan of pain. His doctors wanted him to take it easy—no travel, no stress. That wasn’t going to happen.

  “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

  Eighteen

  Amid a cloud of dirt and flying pebbles, Nora jammed on her brakes and jumped from the Jeep. Abbey clambered after her.

  Married.

  She’d tried to ignore the news from Wyoming, to let it sit until she had time to talk to Cole. But it flooded into her head until everything else washed away.

  His wife? When did this happen? Not more than a week ago they’d been talking about their future together. He’d told her how lucky he felt to be with her. Nora finally trusted the relationship, trusted him.

  Damn it! Were all men pigs or did she have unusually bad luck? First Scott, handsome and mischievous. He’d been faithful for about ten minutes. The only reason she’d been open to loving again was because Cole had been so patient and kind.

  She’d pushed him away and yet he’d wormed his way back to her. She’d treated him pretty rotten and still, he’d stayed by her side through some terrible times. He’d taken a bullet for her. He’d risked his life. And in a couple of days, he’d married someone else.

  Betrayed. Again.

  Abigail and Charlie stood at their Buick with the trunk open. Abigail crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head, her mouth moving. Charlie bent into the trunk and pulled out a large suitcase, then hefted a different one from the ground. They both spun around at the sound of the Jeep.

  “Nora slammed the door closed and ran for the porch steps. She needed to focus on something other than herself. Lisa’s murder. If it was a murder.

  Of course it was. Rachel, Marlene, and Darrell all warned her to leave town. They lived here and they had suspicions. Add to that, Lee’s arrogance and veiled threats and it made him a prime suspect.

  “Nora, what’s the matter?” Abigail called after her.

  The screen door swung open and Rachel stood in the threshold. “I hear you’re spreading it all over town that you’re going to find Lisa’s film.” It hadn’t taken Lee long to call Rachel. What a surprise—the backward cowboy had a cell phone! Okay, that was snide and unfair and a tired stereotype. Too bad.

  Nora detoured to the side of the porch and climbed over the railing, dropping to the sand.

  “Hey!” Rachel shouted. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Nora was obviously too upset to make nice with Rachel.

  “Nora! For heaven’s sake,” Abigail called again.

  Nora stomped off around the back of the cabin, Abbey hot on her heels, ignoring everyone. Think about Lisa. The film. A lump the size of Castle Rock lodged in her throat. She closed her eyes and fought for control, clenching her fists and teeth.

  “Nora.” Abigail caught her and placed a hand on Nora’s rock-hard shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  Nora opened her eyes. “Yep.” She drew a deep breath and focused on relaxing. “Did you call Cole and tell him I was in danger?”

  “What’s the matter? Did you and Cole have a fight?” Abigail asked. “I wouldn’t take it too seriously, dear. We know Cole is a good man. But every man, especially young ones, can be insensitive at times.”

  “A fight?”

  “I assumed he doesn’t think you should stay here in Moab. He thinks you should go back with him to Wyoming. And you, being the independent woman you are, said no. I’m solid with that.”

  Nora had difficulty following Abigail’s blather. “‘Solid’?”

  Abigail straightened her shoulders. “I’ve been reading the Urban Dictionary. I can Google it on my notebook and they send me a word of the day. You should try it. It would do you good to u
pdate your vocabulary and keep up with technology. That phone of yours is pathetic.”

  Nora rubbed her forehead, stress headache beginning to throb.

  Abigail moved behind Nora and reached up to knead her shoulders. “Let Cole cool off and he’ll apologize.”

  “He’s not going to apologize.” Nora lifted her chin and stepped away from Abigail’s massage. She strode back toward the front of the house.

  Abigail scurried after her and tucked Nora’s hand in her arm. She slowed Nora’s gait. “He’s just miffed right now. Give him time.”

  Nora tugged at Abigail’s arm. “He’s married.”

  “When he cools off, he’ll—” Abigail stopped. “What?”

  “His wife talked to me today when I was in Moab.”

  Abigail stood in the sand, hand on hips. “What did he say? There’s got to be an explanation.”

  “What explanation could there possibly be? We’re through.”

  Abigail studied Nora as if waiting for a punch line. When Nora started walking again, Abigail fell in step with her. “You can’t take this lying down.”

  “I knew when he told me he loved me that something like this would happen.”

  “You need to fight for him.”

  Fight for a man who’d already made an irrevocable decision? “I’d say the battle was over before I even knew shots were fired.”

  Abigail sounded exasperated. “Marriage isn’t permanent, you know.”

  That one stopped Nora in her tracks.

  Abigail shrugged. “Well, it’s not.”

  Nora strode away, kicking sand, her backbone hardening with each step.

  Abigail struggled to keep up. “What are you going to do?”

  Did she mean instead of curling into a ball and waiting for the desert sands to bury her? “I’m going to figure out who killed Lisa.”

  “Killed? What? Now you’re being silly.”

  Nora regretted blurting that out. “Killed as in working too hard on the film and having the accident.”

  “Of course. You need to be more careful what you say. People can take things the wrong way.” Abigail’s attention turned toward Charlie. “No. That bag needs to be up front.” She hurried away.

  Nora stopped in the driveway and tried to shove Cole from her mind. Focus on something else.

  Lisa.

  Rachel and Lee had a relationship, but just how close were they? Lee didn’t want the film made. The locals didn’t approve of Rachel marrying Lisa. Just before Lisa died, she’d mentioned petroglyphs and Mormons and that she’d been afraid. It certainly pointed toward Lee. But if Nora was going to get law enforcement to look into anything, she’d need some proof.

  Charlie held a small picnic cooler. He spoke to Abigail. “I’ve packed your water and Diet Coke. There are those little cheeses you like. I didn’t have room for the apples.”

  Abigail considered that. “I hope there’s not too much cheese. I don’t need the extra pounds.”

  Charlie patted her still-shapely rear as he ambled to the backseat of the Buick. “Extra pounds just means more of you for me to adore.”

  Abigail swatted at him. “Oh, you.” She turned her focus back to Nora, probably gearing up for a lecture about the difficulties and rewards of a committed relationship. A thought interrupted and she turned back to Charlie. “Did you remember those biscuits I bought yesterday?”

  He looked puzzled.

  “Biscuits,” she repeated. When he still didn’t get it, she said, “The cookies with the dark chocolate.” Abigail could spend the rest of her life trying to pound Charlie into a pretentious dandy, but she’d never succeed. “We can stop in Monticello and get some coffee for that boring drive across the reservation.”

  Nora shook her head. “That boring drive is called Monument Valley.”

  Abigail shrugged. “I’ve seen it a thousand times.”

  Nora stepped toward Charlie and gave him a hug. He smelled of pine forest and friendship. “Come visit me in Boulder soon.”

  Abigail joined them. She put a palm on Nora’s cheek just as she’d done when Nora was a little girl. “Go to Wyoming, dear.”

  A fat tear struggled to escape Nora’s eye. She clenched her teeth and inhaled, willing it away. Abigail kissed Nora’s forehead. “You need to decide what you want—a career or a life.”

  Nora pulled away. “Drive safely.”

  Abigail’s lips tightened and she glared at Nora. The stare-down lasted several seconds before Abigail narrowed her eyes. “All right, then.”

  She swiveled toward Charlie and snatched the cookies from his hand. She stomped up the stairs, pausing at the screen door. Over her shoulder she said, “Charles. Will you bring my suitcases upstairs, please?”

  Nineteen

  A hard rain battered the deck outside the opened French doors of Lisa’s office. The afternoon faded toward evening. No wonder Lisa loved this office so much. With the open door and windows, it felt like working outside, except she stayed dry. She let her fingertips outline the blue and black inlay on Lisa’s box. She snapped on the desk lamp.

  Pictures of petroglyphs and pictographs panels covered the desk. Nora lined them up side by side, looking for similarities. Lisa had carefully labeled the backs of the photos she’d shot with the location and date. She’d scribbled the site addresses on those she’d downloaded from the Internet. They showed the various figures Nora had seen all over—humans, animals, mazes, hand prints. The weird sunburst from Nora’s dream showed up in most of the photos, along with snakes and birds and even the profile of the person in a boat.

  Nora replayed Lisa’s message. What was she trying to say? Nora typed Tokpela Ranch into her laptop and was rewarded with a livestock auction report. Tokpela Ranch sold six cows several days ago. A little more research revealed the location of the ranch to be about twenty miles south of Moab and that it bordered Canyonlands.

  Nora’s phone vibrated, startling her. She checked the ID—Cole.

  Her heart leapt and she smiled automatically. Then her heart plummeted with a bruising punch as she remembered her situation. Her hand was already halfway to the phone and she hesitated.

  He was married. She shouldn’t answer it. Clean cut. Don’t make it worse, she told herself. Against her better judgement, she picked it up and said hello. He was seven hundred miles away. How could talking to him do any harm, she rationalized, even though she knew better.

  There was a slight pause and he spoke in a strained voice. “I wasn’t sure you’d answer after this morning.”

  She pictured the blush climbing his neck and burning in his cheeks. She longed to feel his arms around her but he belonged to another woman. What she really needed was a big dose of backbone. She mouthed the words to try to make it more real. He’s married. “I spoke to your wife this morning.”

  He exhaled. “Oh.”

  “Oh,” she repeated.

  “Nora.” The longing in his voice made her grab the edge of the desk. She held her breath.

  “This thing that’s going on. This … marriage.”

  She swallowed, her skin hot.

  “It’s … complicated.”

  “Complicated? As in, my wife doesn’t understand me, but you do, let’s have an affair?”

  He exhaled again. “No. Amber.” It sounded like he choked on the words. “My w-wife. I need to be careful. She’s dangerous.”

  “Dangerous how?”

  He hesitated, then the words spewed out in a decidedly un-Cole-like manner. “Please, trust me for now. Don’t give up on us. I love you, Nora. I know you love me. I’m going to fix this, but it’ll take a little more time. Can you give me that?”

  No. She should end it, like she’d already ended it in Moab this morning. Why was she talking to him on the phone anyway? She’d trusted Scott years ago when he said his affair was over. That had been a
stupid mistake. She should learn from that. “Yes. I can give you time. But not forever.” She smacked her forehead. Stupid, stupid, stupid. But Cole wasn’t Scott. She did trust him. “How’s your father?”

  His tone brightened a bit. “He’s holding his own. The tough ol’ guy might just make it.”

  There was that. He asked about Charlie and Abigail and she asked about the ranch, then the conversation stalled out. “Can I call you again?” He sounded sweet and shy. That vulnerability always undid her. Her gut told her it was authentic even as her head argued.

  “Yes,” she heard the longing in her own voice. She smacked her forehead again. If she didn’t start having easier relationships, she’d give herself brain damage.

  She sat for a long time after he hung up, listening to the rain patter on the deck.

  Twenty

  Another sunrise on Lisa’s front porch. More corn dust tossed in gratitude for another day. Another appeal to the spirits of her father’s clan. More silence.

  Maybe the kachina only showed up when Nora faced real, physical danger or when he had something he wanted her to do. But she’d like a personal deity to wrap some support around her. She’d probably lost Cole, someone she thought she’d love for a lifetime. Would it be so much to ask she not lose her imaginary spirit as well?

  When the kachina first appeared to Nora on her mountain in Flagstaff, she’d been terrified. There are hundreds of Hopi kachinas that represent everything from animals and nature to ancestors. They generally show up for ceremonies and dances or appear in clouds to rain on the desert corn. The kachina that visited Nora was an old Hopi kikmongwi, or chief, from the 1880s. Benny said he was her grandfather of many generations past. Benny knew this because the kachina was also his grandfather and they were in regular communication. If Nora hadn’t experienced the kachina’s visits, she might not believed what Benny said. Choosing to go along with Benny’s explanation let her believe she wasn’t a complete lunatic.

  He appeared to her in Flagstaff so she would stop the manmade snow on the sacred peaks. He’d inexplicably shown up in Boulder last fall, just weeks before the strict Hopi calendar dictated all kachinas return to the three mesas in Arizona. Then he’d had another mission for her. She tried to convince herself he was only a figment of her over-active imagination.