Hard Ride to Dry Gulch

by Joanna Wayne

  “Thanks for the offer, but you know I don’t have a few hours. It’s a race now to see who finds Cornell Ashburn first—law enforcement or one of Georgio’s hit men.”

  “Either way, the kid is screwed,” Reno said.

  “But one way, he lives to tell about it.”

  * * *

  “I’M NOT STAYING with some Department of Public Safety babysitter, Travis. I’m the one Angela called. She’s a lot more likely to talk to me than to you.”

  “We don’t even know that we’ll find her there.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “It could be dangerous.”

  “You’ll protect me. And we don’t have time to sit around arguing about protocol. I’ll be showered and ready to go in ten minutes.”

  Travis threw up his hands in frustration. “Once we get to the ranch, you do exactly as I say. No wandering off by yourself and no taking over the conversation. I call the shots.”

  “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

  Faith let her hands drop from her hips, knowing she’d won. She had to talk to Angela. If she looked her in the eye, she’d know if the woman was lying.

  And on the off chance that Angela really did have feelings for Cornell, surely she’d do everything she could to help Faith find Cornell. It wasn’t just the best opportunity they had of finding her son quickly; it was the only option.

  * * *

  TRAVIS PULLED UP to the gate at Jackrabbit Chase at exactly 8:48 a.m. The time was displayed on a digitalized keypad. This was a much more sophisticated operation than he’d anticipated.

  The metal gate was locked and required a code to open it. He punched the call button, sporting a friendly smile for the surveillance camera as he did.

  “Can I help you?” The voice was male, a bit gruff and scratchy.

  “Sure hope so. If not, this is another of my wife’s wild-goose chases,” he said, sticking to the lies they’d rehearsed on the drive out. “She’s looking for a friend of hers named Angela Pointer. We heard she was living here at Jackrabbit Chase Ranch.”

  “You heard wrong.”

  “You sure? We got it on good authority she was here.”

  “Someone gave you a bum steer. But hold on a minute. I’ll check with the boss and make sure I’m giving you the straight of it. Can I have your names?”

  “Sure. Calvin and Eloise Hartford. Eloise and Angela go way back, all the way to sixth grade. If we don’t find her here, we’ll just have to visit every ranch in the area until we find her.”

  The silence lasted about two minutes before the voice came back online. “Mr. Salinger said he can spare a few minutes. Just follow the main road for a quarter of a mile and you’ll see the house on the right.”

  “Sure do appreciate that.”

  The gate opened. So far, so good.

  Faith shifted restlessly and rearranged the visor to block the glare from the sun. “She’s here. I know it. But we’ll never see her. They’re all in this together. Cornell is only a pawn. Whatever he did wrong was against his will.”

  “Just remember the rules,” Travis cautioned again. “I do the talking. And there will be no mention of Cornell. Not by us. John Patterson’s team will have a warrant when they come out, and they can search the premises.”

  “And by that time, my son may be dead.”

  * * *

  “TALK ABOUT THE LIVES of the rich, famous and corrupt,” Faith said as they approached the house.

  The place looked more like a plantation house than a South Texas dwelling. It was white and three stories, with a wide staircase that led to the main entrance on the second level. Giant white columns supported a covered veranda.

  Tall flagpoles bearing Texas and U.S. flags flanked the circular drive. Perfectly manicured plots of green shrubs and blooming plants ran across the front of the massive house.

  Travis parked and he and Faith climbed the outdoor stairs to the heavy wooden door on the second floor, where a man met them.

  “I’m Alex Salinger. Welcome to my ranch.”

  “Damn nice house,” Travis said. “I had no idea raising cattle made this much money.”

  Alex chuckled and clapped him on the back. “It helps if you have a rich pappy.”

  Or crooked friends.

  Alex led them into a huge room with two chunky leather sofas and a stone fireplace. It was a man’s room, as rugged as Salinger looked with his weathered face, whiskered chin and an eagle tattoo on his left biceps.

  “My security man tells me you’re looking for a woman named Angela Pointer,” he said.

  “Yeah. My wife’s on a quest to find the daughter of her best friend who died years ago. You know how it is when a woman gets something in her mind. Can’t be deterred.”

  “I sure wish I could help, but I’ve never heard of an Angela Pointer. Lots of people around here I’ve never heard of, though, so can’t go by me. Have you tried the local sheriff?”

  “That’s next on our list,” Travis said. “Do you have anyone working for you who might know her?”

  “Not likely, but I’ll ask around. Tell you what,” Alex said, as if what he was about to say was an afterthought. “I’ll have my cook bring you some coffee and you can ask her about your friend’s daughter. Dolores knows everybody around these parts.”

  Dolores. That sealed the deal as far as Travis was concerned. Angela had called from the ranch using Dolores Guiterrez’s phone, most likely at Alex’s direction. He was fishing to find out if Travis and Faith knew where Cornell was hiding.

  He knew the police would trace the call but he had no qualms about letting them talk to his cook because Dolores and everyone else who worked for him knew to keep their mouths shut.

  Even if Travis searched the premises, there would be no sign of Angela. Alex Salinger, like Georgio, wouldn’t make mistakes.

  Only they had made one. Cornell had gotten caught smuggling their stolen goods.

  Alex left and returned a minute later. He settled in an oversize dark brown recliner and propped a foot over his knee as if they were there for a friendly chat.

  “Ever worked as a wrangler?” the rancher asked.

  “Naw. I’m a mud logger. Started out as a worm years ago out in West Texas and moved up the ladder.” Travis threw out the oil-field terms most Texans were familiar with.

  “Really? You wear a Stetson and boots like the real McCoy.”

  Dolores appeared a minute later with a tray of filled coffee mugs and a platter of warm cinnamon buns that smelled too tempting to refuse. Travis took one of each.

  Faith took a cup of coffee from the tray. It tipped in her hand and drops of the hot beverage spilled over the rim and into her lap.

  She yelped and jumped up, brushing coffee from her pale gray slacks. Travis hurried to her aid, but Dolores got to her first. The woman started wiping at the spill with her apron.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have filled the cups so full.”

  “It’s okay,” Faith assured her. “And it was my fault, not yours. I could use a wet cloth to wipe it off, though, before it stains.”

  “Of course.”

  Dolores hurried away, with Faith a step behind her. Travis realized almost immediately what was going on. Faith had spilled the coffee deliberately for a chance to talk to the woman in private.

  So much for her promise to let him handle this. He started to go after her, but on second thought changed his mind. If anyone could get information out of Dolores, it was probably Faith. Woman to woman.

  Faith returned a minute later, wet cloth in hand. Dolores wasn’t with her.

  Alex’s phone rang. He excused himself to take the call. When he returned, he was clearly irritated. “I’d like to stay and talk, but I have to get back to work. I’
ll see you to the door.”

  Just as well, Travis thought. They were wasting their time here, though he’d love to know if the phone call Alex had received concerned Cornell.

  The only way to prove Salinger was lying about Angela’s having been there was for the local-law enforcement team to get a search warrant, and right now Angela was not their first priority.

  Thankfully, apprehending Cornell was. But it had been hours since he’d disappeared. He could be hiding out in Mexico by now.

  Or lying dead in a ditch or floating in the Rio Grande, the work of Georgio’s hit men.

  And that would tear the heart out of the woman Travis loved.

  * * *

  FURY BURNED INSIDE FAITH. Dolores was a mother. She of all people should have empathized with her. And she might have if she hadn’t been so scared she’d turned a ghostly shade of white.

  “Dolores didn’t lie when I questioned her in the kitchen,” Faith said, continuing the rant she’d started the second they’d left the ranch. “She was too scared to open her mouth. She just kept shaking her head and looking over her shoulder, as if she expected Alex to walk in on us. How can someone hold that much power over another individual in this day and age?”

  “It happens more than you’d guess. From school-yard bullying to adult threats of intimidation. Some people thrive on control.”

  “Psychos without a conscience.”

  “Even if we’d located Angela and you’d been able to talk to her, I don’t think she could have told you where to find Cornell.”

  “But you don’t know that.”

  “No, but if Georgio and Salinger knew where to find Cornell, the phone call to you would have been pointless.”

  “So you think Dolores was charged with finding out if I’d talked to Cornell?”

  “That’s a definite possibility.”

  “I wish Cornell would call. If I could just hear his voice...”

  “My guess is he doesn’t want to drag you into this.”

  “Or maybe he fears my phone is bugged. Can we be sure it’s not?”

  “Yep.”

  “How?”

  “It’s being monitored. Any attempt to bug it will automatically send a signal to the precinct and to me and Reno.”

  “I never knew you could do that.”

  “Marvels of modern technology. The trick is staying one step ahead of the criminals.”

  “And we’re not.”

  “Not yet,” Travis said. “We have an all-points bulletin out for Cornell’s arrest. He could be apprehended at any time. So just trust your gut feelings. You’ve said time and time again that once we find him, there will be an explanation for all of this.”

  “I’m sure of it.” She had to hold on to that conviction with all the strength she had left.

  “We need fuel,” Travis said. “And I could use some breakfast. One cinnamon roll doesn’t cut it for me.”

  “Fine,” she said. “Stop anywhere. Toast and coffee are all I can handle.”

  Five minutes later, Travis pulled into a service station. Faith got out of the car to go to the restroom. She stretched, then stopped and looked around to see where the annoying knocking sound was coming from.

  Instead of pumping gas, Travis was standing at the back of the car.

  She hurried to join him. “What is that?”

  “Step away, Faith.” His tone was tense. His right hand was inside his lightweight wind jacket, no doubt resting on the butt of the small pistol he carried in a shoulder holster.

  Her already edgy nerves reacted with a new wave of apprehension. The knocking sounded again—three taps, as if something were signaling them.

  “Step away,” he repeated.

  This time she did as he said.

  He looked around as if to make sure no one was standing too near before pushing the trunk release button on the car key.

  The trunk opened slowly. The knocking stopped, replaced by a soft cry, similar to the mew of an injured cat. Two bare feet and one thin arm poked out.

  “What the hell?” Travis reached in and offered a hand to the young woman who emerged. She tried to stand, but winced in pain and leaned against the back fender for support.

  “Who are you and how did you get in my trunk?” Travis asked.

  She looked around nervously and then turned to Faith. “I’m Angela Pointer. We talked last night and also a few nights before, when I warned you to stay away from Georgio.”

  “Both phone calls were from you?”

  She nodded.”

  The young woman was nothing like the seductive, heartless cougar Faith had pictured. She was pretty but incredibly thin and probably not much over Cornell’s age. Her hair was dishwater blond, straight and long. Her eyes revealed a troubled innocence that touched Faith in spite of the circumstances.

  “Who locked you in the trunk?” Faith asked.

  “No one. Sending me with you is the last thing Alex Salinger would do. He’d have killed me before he’d let me talk to you. He locked me in an upstairs bedroom and ordered me to keep quiet after his bodyguard announced you were at the ranch gate.”

  Faith exhaled slowly as the new and ever-changing reality sank in. “So Alex knew who we were all along.”

  “He’s known who you were ever since you first showed up at the Passion Pitt,” Angela said. “And Georgio made sure he knew who Detective Dalton is.”

  “How did you get out of a locked room?” Travis asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.

  “I climbed out the window, crawled over the veranda railing and dropped to the ground.” She reached down and massaged her swollen ankle. “That’s how I got hurt.”

  “You could have gotten a lot more than a sprained or broken ankle,” Travis said.

  “And if I hadn’t escaped, I would have been killed—not today, but eventually. I know too much for them to let me live. Besides, they have no reason to keep me around now that they don’t need me to help keep Cornell in line.”

  “I don’t understand,” Faith said.

  “I’ll explain everything, but not here. We’re too close to the ranch, and Alex and his so-called security staff are no doubt searching for me.”

  “I have enough fuel to get us a few miles farther and off the main highway,” Travis said. “I’ll help you into the backseat. But before we do anything, I need you to answer one question for me. Not lies. Not games.”

  “If I can,” Angela said.

  “Do you know where we can find Cornell?”

  “No. All I know is what he told me when he called, just before dumping his phone into the Rio Grande.”

  “Which was?”

  “He’s on the run from Georgio and the law. He just wants to stay alive.”

  “How did he contact you?”

  “Through Dolores Guiterrez. She’s a good woman, but she’s scared of Alex. Really scared. We all are.”

  “Okay,” Travis said. “But I’d best not find out you’re lying to me. If I do, I can promise you a jail cell.”

  “I’m through with the lies,” Angela said.

  “Then we’ll talk. After that, you need to see a doctor about that ankle. It might be broken.”

  “No doctors,” she declared. “No hospitals. Not in Laredo. It’s too risky.”

  “We can argue medical care later,” Faith said. “Let’s just get out of here.” The young woman’s fear was contagious and Faith was desperate to hear what she had to say about Cornell before Alex showed up and chaos ensued.

  But first she needed the answer to one important question of her own. Faith waited until they were in the car and the engine was running.

  “Where’s the baby, Angela? Where’s my grandchild?”

  Chapter Fourteen

 
Angela leaned forward, her gaze locked with Faith’s. “How did you know about that?”

  “The same way I heard that my son was involved with you—from a forensic analysis of his computer. Were you pregnant?”

  “I was, but I miscarried in the first trimester. The baby wasn’t Cornell’s. My ex-boyfriend convinced me to give our relationship one last chance. It was a mistake. I knew that within the week, but though I wasn’t aware of the fact, I was pregnant when I called everything off again.

  “I know it’s hard for you to believe, considering all the trouble I brought on your family, but I never had sex with your son.”

  That twisted the situation even more. If there was nothing between Angela and Cornell but a crush on his part, it was incredible that this had gone so far astray.

  “Are you denying that you encouraged Cornell to leave home and run away with you?”

  “I begged him to stay away from me and the Passion Pit. He didn’t listen.”

  “Because he was so infatuated with you.”

  “No, because he has a heart of gold and he wouldn’t walk away when he knew I was in trouble.”

  “I saw the notes he wrote you, Angela. He fancied himself in love with you.”

  “I’m not denying there was a strong attraction between us. I’ve never known anyone as honest and giving as your son. But I didn’t fool myself. I’ve always known he deserved better than me.”

  Honest. Giving. A heart of gold. Those were all the things Faith knew to be true about Cornell. And yet... “All I know is that one day I had a son who was happy, who came home every night. A son who confided in me and laughed with me. Then he met you and vanished into thin air. Now there’s a warrant out for his arrest.”

  “I know. His life is ruined.”

  “How did it happen? I have to know, Angela. What made Cornell turn to a man like Georgio?”

  The young woman started to cry softly. Faith felt sorry for her. She truly did. But Angela was here and safe, at least for now. Cornell was on the run from the law and a man who’d see him dead before he’d let him confess his crimes.