Sedona Sunset

by Tanya Stowe

  A gentleman from a large computer corporation spoke up. “This sounds exactly like the type of program we want to fund. We have a substantial investment, and we’re looking to start an endowment.”

  From behind her husband’s back, Milly caught Lara’s gaze. Her friend winked and Lara couldn’t hold back a small laugh. More people joined the conversation or asked for information. They created such a stir, the group was still gathered in the passage when Alex and Carlos began to play.

  The sweet strains of Flamenco music captured Lara’s attention immediately. The group broke up.

  Lara went into the performance room, stopping at the back, deep in the shadows. She leaned against the wall and listened. Across the room, Alex caught her with his gaze. His music conjured new memories, a fiery sunset, the burn of her muscles as she climbed, the rough texture of a rock wall, and a limitless horizon with red rocks and cars sparkling like diamonds in the distance.

  Still, Alex’s music had an undertone of a gypsy campfire, of Juan and Luisa, lovers separated forever. Had the spell of the guitar trapped her? Would the music remind her of a love so sweet, so tender, and over too soon?

  She listened to the rest of the concert with bittersweet feelings, wondering if this would be her last night with Alex. She tried to absorb and remember every nuance, how his long fingers spread over the width of the guitar. How a few strands of dark hair fell over his brow when he strummed. How his gaze softened every time he saw her. Too soon, the concert was over.

  People rose to their feet clapping, rushing forward to greet Alex and Carlos.

  Alex didn’t come towards her.

  Lara felt bereft. Abandoned. She and Alex had exchanged no promises, no words of commitment. Nothing had really passed between them…except an explosion of chemistry, and a bond that seemed to reach so deep, it touched their souls.

  Lara firmed her shoulders. Something did spark to life between them. Something unique. Important. She wouldn’t let it end so easily. She leaned back against the wall, deeper into the shadows, hoping no one would see her so she could find a quiet moment to speak to Alex.

  He placed La Guitarra in its case. Carlos did the same with his guitar. They worked silently, placing the other guitars in cases and folding their stands. The security men stood nearby so they could escort Carlos to the van to transport him, the valuable guitars, and the equipment back to the house.

  Alex handed the case with La Guitarra to Carlos. He extended his hand to Carlos. Carlos stared at Alex’s hand for a moment. Then he turned and left Alex standing there, hand still outstretched. With a shake of his head, Alex said something to Mike McGraff, the head of security, before he turned and caught sight of Lara.

  “There you are.” Brett stepped out of the passage behind Lara. “Your father’s looking everywhere for you. Seems you started quite a little sensation tonight. He’s in a hot and heavy discussion with a gentleman by the name of Dr. Jerome, and he’d like you to join them.”

  Alex had approached and stood just slightly apart, as if waiting his turn to speak with Lara.

  Brett turned to him. “You too, Alex. Some serious brainstorming is going on, and they’d like you two to be a part of it.” Brett gestured Alex ahead, and then took Lara’s arm, holding her back. “Good job, Lara.” A genuine smile lit Brett’s features. “I haven’t seen your dad this pleased and excited about a project since he lost your mom.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. He’s proud of you Lara, which…is more than I can say about myself. I’m a big disappointment to him.”

  “I’m sure Dad didn’t say that.”

  “He didn’t have to. I know I blew this. I don’t need him to smack my hands with the ruler to admit it.”

  “Brett…I…I don’t know what to say.”

  “There’s nothing you can say. I’m a big enough boy to take responsibility for my actions.”

  His actions? Was Brett more responsible than she realized? Was he trying to tell her something?

  He glanced down the passage to a group seated in a large circular sofa set, avidly discussing students, funds and dormitories. Brett ducked his head. “I just…well, there might not be time for me to say this later. I just want you to know your friendship has meant a lot to me and I…well, I’m proud of you, too.” He squeezed her arm and tugged her forward to join the group.

  Her father gestured to a seat and she sat down, her mind churning. First Alex’s strange behavior and now Brett’s. Both of them were as tense as electric wires. Their attitudes put her on edge.

  The plans for her program were taking shape. This should have been a night of triumph. Instead, she felt as tightly wound as one of Alex’s guitar strings. She tried to participate in the conversation while keeping an eye on the important men in her life.

  Brett stared at the front door as if he’d like nothing better than to run away.

  Alex kept dragging his cell phone out of his pocket and checking the screen. After the fifth time, he looked around the group and interrupted. “Forgive me. I’m expecting a call from Madrid I must take, if you’ll excuse me.” He exchanged good-byes and made promises to contact everyone…except Lara.

  Lara quietly excused herself and followed him to the front of the building. “Alex, wait.”

  He froze, his back tense, shoulders sagging in defeat. When he turned, his features wore an almost pained look.

  “Alex, what’s going on? Why are you behaving so strangely tonight?”

  He grasped her hands. “I wish I could tell you. I wish I could explain it all, but I can’t. Not right now. Not this way.”

  “You can’t tell me? Aren’t you the man who said he didn’t have time for gossip or falsehoods? Aren’t you the one who said life was too short to try and meet other people’s expectations?”

  He kissed her fingertips. “Yes, I am that man. And I still believe it, but I simply can’t talk about this right now.”

  She frowned, trying to understand. “Alex, are you trying to tell me goodbye?”

  “No! No, I’m trying…” He broke off. “Promise me, Lara, no matter what happens, you’ll remember these last few days have meant more to me…” His phone buzzed.

  Lara stared at him, trying to understand, hesitant to promise…she didn’t know what.

  He gave her a little shake. “Promise me?”

  She nodded.

  He kissed her forehead, and then hurried toward his car and drove away.

  Lara stumbled back to the group. The conversation was finally beginning to wind down.

  Brett rose and began to turn off the lights of the school as Troy and her father made arrangements to meet with Jerome to draw up papers and plans.

  An oddly silent Brett finally said goodnight to the cleanup crew and security, and they all climbed into the limo. Troy and Lara’s father were animated, pleased with the event and the evening.

  Brett still acted liked a trapped animal longing for escape. He’d moved his things into a smaller room at the main house so her father could have the other bedroom in the guesthouse.

  The limo dropped Brett and Troy off.

  “I’m not tired, Lara. I believe jet lag hasn’t hit me.”

  Lara kissed him goodnight and went to her room. She could feel the cold of something terrible seeping into her bones. Maybe a hot shower would help. Even the intense heat of the hair dryer after her shower did nothing to impact the ice in her veins, the certainty that something bad was about to happen. She put on lounge pants and a T-shirt and eased into her bed to stare up at the ceiling.

  This aching cold reminded her of the months after her mother died…when home turned into an empty, alien place of sorrow. Everything she’d gained, everything she valued in the last few years seemed to be slipping through her fingers, sending her back to those dark days. She could feel the panic rising inside her, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “Please…” she whispered out loud. She didn’t even know what she was asking.

  But He did. He always knew, and He’d
always been with her. He brought her out of the accident, through the surgery and the long, drawn out healing process. He brought her here and gave her a new beginning and even a purpose. He had never abandoned her, and He never would.

  The panic began to seep away. The tension eased out of her stomach. She was not alone and for the first time in a long while, she sensed His presence. Taut muscles began to ease. Her eyes closed. Her breath slipped through her lips in a sigh.

  The phone connected to the main house rang, jolting her. Her father answered, and then gave an exclamation.

  Lara’s pulse jumped. She leapt out of bed, ran to her door and opened it. “What is it? What’s happened?”

  Her father turned to her, his features a mixture of shock and confusion. “La Guitarra is missing. They think it’s been stolen.”

  14

  Lara followed her father as he hurried across the compound toward the main house. She tugged the corded sweater she’d thrown over her shoulders and glanced up at a sky full of stars. The first night she’d arrived in Sedona everything had seemed so bright and promising. Now those stars didn’t seem so welcoming or so twinkly. Now they looked like bright chips of ice in a frozen black wasteland. Those dismal imaginings made her pull the sweater tighter.

  The house lights blazed across the way and several dark sedans were parked outside.

  “The police are already here,” she murmured.

  “Those aren’t police cars. They look like Federal employee vehicles.” His features were set and hard.

  “You mean Federal as in F.B.I.?”

  “More like I.C.E. It’s the division of Homeland Security dealing with stolen artifacts.”

  Lara tripped in surprise.

  Her father grabbed her elbow and guided her at a faster pace.

  They entered the foyer. Two men in suits stood guard at the door of the guitar room. They weren’t part of the regular security team. One of the men pointed them toward the large family room. They could hear voices, hushed and subdued, like the sounds at a funeral.

  Everyone was already there, including Mike McGraff, the head of their security. Even Christy was awake and sat silent next to Eliza on the couch. Troy had his arm stretched across the back of the sofa to enclose both his wife and his daughter. Brett and Carlos stood at the back of the room. Brett still wore his increasingly familiar hangdog expression and Carlos paced back and forth, clearly agitated.

  Alex stood across the room. His features looked bewildered…pained.

  Lara wanted to put her arms around him.

  A man in a suit greeted them. “Mr. Fallon, Ms. Fallon, now you’re here, we can begin. Please have a seat.” He gestured to a chair next to Troy. “I’m Special Agent in Charge, Jason Bowman. I’ll be handling this investigation. As you are all aware, La Guitarra is missing. Mr. Summers returned home approximately,” he glanced at his watch, “forty-five minutes ago and discovered the guitar sitting on the weight-sensor was not La Guitarra. A subsequent search of the room and preliminary search of the house was fruitless. The guitar has not been located. The security camera, as well as the lock on the outside door, appear to have been tampered with. We have teams coming to help with the investigation. We’ll take fingerprints and conduct a more thorough search of the house, but while we wait, I have a few questions. We’ll be speaking with each of you individually, but right now, I need a sequence of events.”

  He turned to Eliza. “Mrs. Madrigal, you arrived home first?”

  “Yes, I left right after the donor presentations, before the concert. I was worried about Christy.” Immediately, Eliza’s gaze shot to Troy, as if she thought she’d spoken out of turn.

  Troy smiled and patted her hand.

  “We’ll talk more about that later.” Agent Bowman sounded as if he already knew about the reason Eliza was worried. How could he know about the attacks?

  “The next to arrive at the house was Mr. Bertoleo with the security team,” Agent Bowman continued. “I assume you secured the guitars in the room and everything was normal.”

  Carlos nodded, but Mike said, “Not quite. Mr. Bertoleo cut his hand and was bleeding. After we closed the room, he went to the bathroom to find something to clean it with and I checked the thermostat.”

  “The thermostat?”

  “Mr. Bertoleo thought the room was unusually cold.”

  At Agent Bowman’s puzzled expression Alex said, “All guitars are susceptible to extremes in temperature. It impacts the wood, the strings, everything. La Guitarra is especially susceptible because of its age.”

  “I see.” Bowman addressed his question to Mike. “Was there a difference in the thermostat?”

  “Yes. The thermostat was flashing…as if it had had a power outage. I was concerned, so I went to the control room to check on the security equipment. Mr. Bertoleo returned and asked me to open the room for him so he could retrieve his guitars.”

  “You took your personal guitars out of the secure room?” Agent Bowman asked, surprise tingeing his tone. “Why?”

  Carlos shifted. “I am to leave early in the morning. I have arranged a car to pick me up for my flight back to Spain.”

  Bowman turned to Alex. “This isn’t your usual routine.”

  Alex shrugged. “Carlos and I have ended our partnership. Last night was our last performance.”

  Bowman knew Alex’s routine so well. How? Lara’s puzzlement grew.

  “Our routine is not as important as La Guitarra,” Carlos exclaimed. “Every minute we waste is another minute for the thief to escape. You know the first twenty-four hours are essential to the recovery of a stolen object. Soon La Guitarra will disappear into the abyss of a private collection, and she will be lost to the world. You must do something besides talk, Agent Bowman.”

  Agent Bowman didn’t react. “Thank you for the advice, Mr. Bertoleo. I think we are all aware of the dangers.” He turned back to Mike. “After you retrieved the guitars and Mr. Bertoleo left, you returned to the security room.”

  Mike nodded. “Yes. We determined there had been a power outage on that line and one of the cameras was down.”

  “But none of the alarms went off.”

  “No. Only one line seemed to be impacted and if it’s a minor fluctuation, it won’t set them off. They’ll usually reset with no problems, but the camera didn’t. By the time we traced out the problem to the power grid, Mr. Madrigal arrived home.”

  “But you didn’t discuss the power outage with him.”

  “We decided not to create an alarm for a simple power fluctuation. The door was still secure and we believed the main alarm, the weight sensor on which the guitar was placed, had not been affected.”

  “But you were wrong, and you discovered the discrepancy when Mr. Summers arrived.”

  Mike nodded. “Yes. He went into the room and ascertained a switch had been made. The guitar on the sensor was not La Guitarra.”

  Agent Bowman nodded. “The switch was made between the time you and Mr. Bertoleo left and returned?”

  “Yes. We did an immediate surveillance of the grounds and the house. We found that the outer balcony door had been tampered with, but there was nothing on the other cameras and no signs outside.”

  “Then you informed the authorities?”

  Mike nodded.

  “I think that answers all my questions,” Bowman said.

  “But not mine.” Lara’s father’s tone was firm. “I’d like to know how a team from I.C.E. got here even before the local police. I just made the call to your organization this afternoon.”

  Startled by her father’s new information, Lara stared at him. He’d called I.C.E.?

  For the first time, Agent Bowman looked uncomfortable and shot a quick glance at Alex. “We…were conducting an investigation so we were already in the area.”

  “That doesn’t explain how you arrived so quickly tonight.”

  Agent Bowman hesitated again.

  “I called them,” Alex said. “I knew they were close because I had
just been in Agent Bowman’s company.”

  A shocked silence filled the room.

  Lara’s heart did a stutter step.

  “In other words, Mr. Summers, while you’ve been a guest here in this house, you’ve been secretly investigating my family.” Her father’s deep, troubled voice set Lara’s nerves a-jangle.

  She stopped breathing as she watched Alex. Waiting. Hoping….

  Slowly, he nodded. Lara gasped as the ground fell out from beneath her.

  ~*~

  Wearily, Alex looked out the window. Light oozed into the sky on the horizon, announcing dawn’s rapid approach. Daniel Fallon would be the last member of the party to be privately interviewed. Hopefully, he would provide more insight than the others. The investigation was not progressing…at least not to Alex’s satisfaction.

  When Lara had entered the room, she’d refused to even look at him. He ached to take her aside…to try to explain. But what could he say? He’d pulled personal information out of her. She’d shared intimate details of her life, and all the while he’d lied to her. Nothing he could say would make it all right.

  Bowman took great pains to point out to Lara that if not for Alex, he would have closed the school’s ceremonies early and perhaps ruined its reputation. However, if they’d shut down the ceremony the authorities would have been in the house and at the school. La Guitarra might not have been stolen.

  Alex’s commitment to the Fallon School of Art may have lost him his most valued possession.

  The information didn’t seem to impact her feelings. She continued to avoid all contact with him, leaving the room without a word or a backward glance.

  He’d lost La Guitarra and Lara. Everything of value in his life.

  Daniel Fallon situated himself in a chair across from Bowman. They exchanged a few words before Bowman said, “When did you first realize there were problems with your operation here in Sedona?”

  Fallon took a deep breath. “About three weeks ago. Eliza called me and asked to borrow a substantial amount of money. She was very secretive about it. Requested that I not ask any questions or mention it to Troy or Brett. She said she’d been helping out at the school’s office and had taken some checks, but she wouldn’t use them without my permission.”