He took his hand from his chest and waved it, palm up, in a slow arch, encompassing the gallery and causing many patrons to follow the trajectory of his fingers and look at the prints on the walls a second time. A woman behind Sadie sniffled. Another woman standing a few feet ahead of them was wiping at her eyes.
For Sadie’s part, she couldn’t help but think about the fact that the twenty-three prints on the wall could sell for upwards of a million dollars. Sadie wasn’t opposed to people making money, but for her, the pseudo-spirituality of Ethan Standage’s “tres leches” was lost in the extreme profitability of his work. Did he know that the original tres leches cake was actually developed as part of a marketing gimmick to increase sales of canned milk? She’d no sooner thought that, however, when Caro turned toward her, her eyes glassy from unshed tears.
“I love that,” she whispered. “Tres leches—what nourishes him, nourishes all.”
Sadie nearly pointed out the dichotomy, but held her tongue. She was on Ethan’s turf, and Caro was working on her third glass of champagne. Arguing the contradictions of this man was out of place. Sadie wondered what the Standage family thought of Ethan’s art. Were they supportive? Since he made millions of dollars, they probably were.
“So I thank you,” Ethan said, bowing slightly toward the crowd. “For being a part of this journey I am on, and for validating my life’s ambition, which is to preserve those things that will be lost forever so that we might not forget who we are and who has blazed the trail before us.”
The room erupted with applause. He thanked everyone again and stepped down from his platform, looking relieved. Maybe he just wasn’t comfortable speaking in public. Within a few minutes, the crowd was moving and mingling again. Ethan made his way to the back of the room, and the crowd tightened around him.
Sadie and Caro made their way to the table filled with anthologies. Last year’s book was Eagle’s Point, and the year before it was At Morning’s Light. She and Caro both picked up a book and began thumbing through the pages, commenting on the artistic appeal of the layout. In addition to the photographs, there were large portions of text. Sadie skimmed a few pages, enough to appreciate the depth of information Ethan included. His knowledge of anthropology was apparent in the detailed descriptions he gave of the time periods and the people who would have used the items.
“So Ethan isn’t a collector himself?” Sadie asked.
“The Standage family has an extensive collection of their own,” Caro said, putting down the book she’d been holding and picking up another one. Her words were sounding a little fuzzy. “It’s all from their own land, or purchased over the years. When he was at NMU, Ethan photographed several of the more unique pieces and compiled them into a book as part of a project for one of his classes. I’ve heard that’s when he fell in love with photography,” she explained, scanning the table. “Here is a copy of the Standage collection,” she said triumphantly, pulling the thinnest of the books from the table. There were only a few copies left. “I’ve heard these are hard to find.” She opened the book and started flipping through the pages, admiring the colored photographs; the rest of the anthologies were all black and white.
“I think I’ll get this one,” Caro said, closing the book. “Though I’d really like the Tres Leches one too.” The cover for Tres Leches featured the pipe photograph they’d admired earlier. Caro put her empty glass on a tray of empty glasses, and Sadie hoped that meant Caro was done with the night’s beverage refreshment.
Sadie wasn’t sure whether to buy a book of her own, and she scanned the room again, looking at the faces of the attendees—Ethan’s supporters. Were Caro’s opinions of Ethan’s integrity reflected in the general consensus of these people? It was after nine thirty, and the room was still full. They could have brought another hundred cupcakes for a crowd this size.
Sadie looked up at the loft and noted that the crowds had thinned considerably. She and Caro needed to remove the trays that were surely empty by now. Maybe she’d get started on that so they could go home and she could work on learning more about Ethan Standage. She was turning back to Caro when a familiar face in the loft crowd caught her attention. More importantly, it was a familiar set of eyes that startled her—black and blue eyes to be exact.
Shel.
The swelling had gone down some since yesterday morning, but the purple rings under his eyes were darker now that gravity had pulled the pooling blood to the thin-skinned area. He stood on the edge of the loft with a glass of champagne in one hand and stared down at her.
Sadie refused to look away and stared right back while wondering why he was here. She’d already connected him to the Standage ranch through Benny bailing him out, and to the archeology through his work. Was he also connected to the artistic part of Ethan’s life? How?
After a few seconds, Shel pointed to one of the doors at the top of the stairs that led to one of the sitting areas, and jerked his head toward it. Then he turned and headed for the door, disappearing a moment later, and leaving Sadie with a difficult decision to make that turned out not to be that difficult after all.
Chapter 21
Caro,” Sadie said, tapping her friend on the shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” Caro asked. There were two people ahead of her in line for the cash register.
“Upstairs,” Sadie said, her eyes on the door Shel had disappeared through. “I’ll just be a minute.”
Caro turned back to the cashier, and Sadie climbed the stairs slowly, hoping to center herself and not appear as anxious as she felt. Before entering the room, she looked back at Caro long enough to see that she wasn’t watching.
Sadie slipped through the doorway and shut the door behind her, but stood with her back against it and her hand on the knob in case she needed to make a run for it—or needed something to brace herself with while she kicked Shel in the face. The taupe-painted room was furnished with a set of nice leather couches and a wicker coffee table with a glass top. A variety of watercolors hung on the wall depicting the New Mexican desert.
Shel was standing in front of one of three long, thin windows that were framed by elegantly carved, bright white trim. He turned to face her when she closed the door. His expression wasn’t angry, which served to make her even more suspicious.
His face looked worse up close, all the individual colors easier to see. When she was black and blue—which had happened more often than she liked to admit during her recent various adventures—she tried to stay home as much as possible. And she could get away with foundation in a pinch.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Shel said, setting down his half-full glass of champagne.
“I didn’t expect to see you here either.”
He paused as though waiting for her to say more. When she didn’t, he continued, “I guess it’s a good thing. I wanted to apologize for Monday night.”
Of all the things he could have said, an apology wasn’t what she’d expected.
He put his hands in the pockets of his Dockers. “I was pretty drunk,” he explained with an apologetic shrug as he rocked back on the heels of his scuffed dress shoes. “And things got out of control. Are you okay?”
“Am I okay?” Sadie repeated incredulously, finally finding her voice. She tried to balance his current humility with his arrogance of Monday night, but the equation didn’t make sense. “I got arrested because of you.”
Shel let out a breath. “I know,” he said dropping his chin. “And I’m really sorry about it. Like I said, I had too much to drink. It doesn’t look like you were hurt too bad; you’re not limping or anything. That’s good.”
Sadie still didn’t know what to make of the apology, but she was willing to see it as an opportunity to get some information, provided she proceeded carefully. “I’ve got some bumps and bruises, but nothing serious. Sorry about your nose.”
He waved away her apology. “I’ve had worse. Though I’ll be telling everyone I know that the oth
er guy was twice my size, if you don’t mind.”
Sadie smiled at his joke, then they lapsed into silence. He was almost charming, but it was at such odds with the man from the bar on Monday night that she didn’t dare let her guard down entirely.
“Anyway, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Sadie said. She gathered her courage so as to take full advantage of the opportunity. “Do you remember what we were talking about that caused everything to explode like it did?”
He hesitated, but then nodded.
She kept her voice low and sincere when she spoke again, hoping to invite his trust. “Why did you keep digging, Shel?”
His expression sobered quickly, and he turned to the window again, his back to her. She watched his shoulders rise with a deep breath and then fall as he exhaled. “It’s a complicated answer, which leads to more complicated questions that I don’t know the answers to.”
“Someone told you to, right?” Sadie said for him. Langley had said as much at the bar. “You knew the bodies were there.”
“I didn’t know anything. I still don’t.”
“We’d already found a body,” she said when he didn’t elaborate. “But you knew there was another one. Did you have something to do with the bodies being there in the first place?” She gripped the doorknob behind her back tighter than ever, ready to run if fire leaped into his eyes. She’d just accused him of being an accessory to murder at the very least. Him freaking out would not be an unexpected response.
“No,” he said strongly, shaking his head but showing far less reaction than she’d expected. He continued to look out the window as he spoke. “I’d noticed a burial mound that looked out of place. When you guys found that first body, I took a chance and dug into the one I’d seen. I was right, but it was stupid. It would have been dug up eventually. I just . . .” He let out a breath. “I acted rashly.”
“You made a phone call right afterward,” she said. He turned to look at her. “Who did you call? Was it the person who told you about the bodies?”
He said nothing, and Sadie pushed even further. “Surely you know that whoever told you there were bodies buried at the site may very well be the person who put them there in the first place.”
A flicker of doubt crossed his face, and he looked toward the door but then quickly shook it off. “It wasn’t him.”
“Him?” Sadie repeated, going through all the other men she knew of who could be associated with this. Only one came to mind. “Langley?”
Shel looked genuinely confused. “Langley? What does Langley have to do with this?”
“You tell me,” Sadie countered. “What part did he play in the operation?”
“Langley wasn’t involved in this at all. I told him too much over some beers one night, and then on Monday, he totally turned on me when you guys showed up at the bar.”
Shel seemed to believe what he was saying.
“Have you talked to Langley since Monday?” Sadie asked.
“No, and I don’t plan to. I’m leaving tomorrow, going back to my old crew in Arizona. I’ll be glad to leave New Mexico behind again—my luck has never been very good in this state, but I think I’ve learned my lesson this time.”
“What brought you here in the first place?”
His eyes looked wary again. “The job with D&E.”
And yet he could go right back to his old job in Arizona? That meant he hadn’t been fired from his former position and would be welcomed back. So why come to work in New Mexico at all? “What’s your connection to Cold River Ranch?”
His jaw flexed, which meant the ranch was a sensitive subject, and that Sadie was getting closer to whatever secrets he was hiding. “The ranch foreman bailed you out of jail. Is he a . . . friend?”
“A friend of a friend,” Shel said, looking at the ground for a few seconds before looking up with a more resolute expression. A buzz sounded from his pocket and he pulled out his cell phone, reading and replying to a text message. It was the same phone he’d used at the dig after digging up that second body. Maybe she could pass that information on to the police and they could trace the number somehow. He finished with his phone and put it back in his pocket. “I need to go.”
“What about Margo?” Sadie asked, still needing answers.
Shel let out a breath and his eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me she’s here too. I’m not sure I can sincerely apologize to her. The woman’s insane. Did you hear her call me Crossbones? Like I’m in some kind of motorcycle gang or something. Honestly, the woman is nuts.”
Would he dare say such things about Margo if he had something to do with her disappearance? “The police are looking for her,” Sadie said, taking note of his surprised reaction. “She followed Langley from the bar Monday night. It’s the last anyone has seen of her. I think they went to Cold River Ranch. And then the foreman—Benny—bailed you out of jail a few hours later. Did he take you to the ranch too?”
“No, he took me to the apartment I share with a couple other guys.” He didn’t seem to understand why this was important to her.
“Did he bail you out as a favor to someone else? This friend the two of you share?” Shel had to be connected to Ethan—he was at Ethan’s exhibit tonight and he’d been bailed out by Ethan’s foreman. But Shel had been working so hard to keep that information to himself that she was loathe to confront him with it directly. In the process she might miss out on information he would willingly give up.
“She left with Langley? No one’s seen her?”
“The police found her Land Cruiser this morning, parked since Tuesday morning near Langley’s apartment.”
“Langley?” Shel repeated, looking off to the side as though thinking very hard about something.
Sadie tried to wait him out, but she couldn’t help but push again. “Margo called me after you and I were arrested,” she said, hoping her instincts about telling him more of the story were accurate.
His expression grew even more troubled. Whatever he was putting together in his mind was causing him a great deal of concern.
“She left me a message saying that she needed my help.” But she wasn’t in fear of her life, Sadie remembered. At least, she wasn’t when she left the message. “She never came home. She isn’t answering her phone.”
“I—I need to go,” Shel said suddenly, moving toward the door.
Sadie stood her ground, her hand still on the doorknob and her body blocking his way.
“Margo’s my friend,” Sadie said. “Please tell me what you know. Maybe it will allow me to help her.” However, Sadie’s sympathies toward Shel were triggered now too. Was he caught up in something he didn’t understand?
“I don’t know anything about her,” he said. “But . . . let me see what I can find out.” The tightness of his jaw and resolute look in his eye showed growing urgency.
Sadie needed more answers, but she knew that tenacity might not be the best way to get them at the moment. “Let me give you my number,” she said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “And let me get yours as well so we can keep in touch.”
He hesitated, but then went ahead and gave her his number before typing hers into his own phone and labeling it “Sarah from Dig.” Sadie didn’t bother to correct him; there was no point in confusing him further. She finally moved aside and let him leave before following him out to the loft. He didn’t say good-bye or apologize again, instead he took the stairs two at a time and disappeared through the front door. She stared after him, hoping he would really call her when he learned something. Had she handled that correctly? What if she never saw him again and this was her only chance to get information? Had she blown it?
“Where have you been?”
Sadie startled. She’d been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she had forgotten all about Caro, who was now standing in front of her at the top of the stairs with her arms folded across her chest. Worry had pulled her brow together in a deep furrow. “Who was that guy?”
Sadie looked bac
k into Caro’s confused and angry face. “Sorry,” she said, trying to catch up and smile as though everything was normal. “Did you already get a cupcake, or are they gone?”
“A cupcake?” Caro repeated, throwing her arms out in a gesture too dramatic for the situation. “I’m not talking about a cupcake, Sadie!” she almost yelled. Several heads turned to look at them. “Who was that guy? What were you doing in that room?”
“Caro,” Sadie said, quietly, remembering how many drinks Caro had had and hoping she would follow Sadie’s example of calmness even as her face got hot. She put her hand on Caro’s arm, but Caro shook it off. “Calm down, it’s okay.”
“It’s not okay!” Caro said, tears suddenly overflowing and rolling down her cheeks. “I thought we were friends, Sadie. Why are you shutting me out?”
Chapter 22
Nothing short of divine intervention could have calmed Caro down. Luckily, that’s exactly what happened. Father David, the pastor from Caro’s church, was at the exhibit, and when he heard Caro carrying on, he ascended the stairs and was able to pull her into a corner to talk with her quietly, while Sadie tried to pretend people weren’t staring.
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