by Ann Charles
“But I draw the line at your mother. She can stay with Manny.”
Groaning, she clapped her hand over her eyes. The images of Manny and her mother were waiting there for her every time she closed her lids, still crystal clear twenty-four hours later. She prayed her brain did not decide to reformat the film and start showing it in 3-D.
“God, don’t remind me. I’m afraid I won’t be able to have sex again without thinking of them. All of that whipped cream and refried beans.” She groaned again.
Mac pulled her hand away from her eyes and kissed the back of it. “I’ll give you some really good therapy, Slugger.” He flipped her hand over and rained kisses up the inside of her wrist, like Gomez Addams. “Lots of therapy. We’ll get through this together. Now come on. The chamber I told Dr. García I would take a look at is up ahead.”
She fell in behind him, careful not to trip over the rusted ore cart rails leading the way deeper into the mine. Several twists and turns later, he came to an abrupt stop. Claire ran into his back, knocking her hard hat off.
“Oops,” she scooped it up, fitting it back on her head.
She joined Mac, staring down at the four foot wide hole in the mine floor with several one-by-six wooden boards boxing it in. “Is this part of what you wanted to check on?”
“No.”
“Then why are we looking at it?”
“Because of that rope.”
Claire followed the beam of his hard hat and saw a strand of black nylon rope tied to a spike tucked behind one of the boards. She took a step closer to get a better look.
Mac locked onto her arm. “Be careful, Claire. Never get too close to a shaft.”
“I know.” She had learned that lesson the hard way with Jessica up in one of Ruby’s other mines a few months back.
She peeked over the edge of the shaft, shining her flashlight down into the dark inky depths. A rickety looking ladder was bolted to the side, leading into the blackness beyond where Claire’s beam reached. The rope hung taut down along the ladder. Whatever was at the other end was beyond the light.
Goosebumps crept up her arms. She stepped back and grabbed Mac’s hand. “What’s with the rope?”
“That’s what I’m wondering.” He tucked her behind him, shielding her. “It wasn’t there the last time I was back in this area.”
What was at the other end of the rope?
She peeked around his shoulder. “How long ago was that?”
“Last week.”
* * *
The red pickup was back.
It was the same pickup Ronnie had seen here and there—The Shaft, the grocery store, the library, parking lots. The driver was keeping back, following her from a distance but following nonetheless.
She had not seen the black sedan in over a week, but she should have known she couldn’t duck her troubles that easily. Claire had helped beat back the goons for a bit, but now they had returned. Only this time it was just one goon, and Ronnie was pretty certain she had been dancing with him the other night when she was wasted on self-pity and gin.
Purposely taking a few extra turns around the side streets in Yuccaville, Ronnie watched to see if the red pickup zig-zagged after her. She wanted to make doubly sure she was not being paranoid.
The good news was he stayed on her tail.
The bad news was he stayed on her tail.
Grabbing the binoculars Ruby kept under her seat, Ronnie paused at a stop sign and used the rearview mirror to focus in on the pickup’s license plate one block back. The numbers were backward, but she figured them out and scribbled them on the inside of a gum wrapper she found in her purse. Now she had to figure out what to do with this information.
But before she tackled that, she had another problem to fix.
For the first time in … ever, there was a parking space open right in front of the library’s double glass doors. She pulled into it and cut the engine. Grabbing her purse, she stepped out and straightened her jean skirt while letting the sun warm the top of her head. This morning had been cool, smelling crisp and fresh, reminding her that fall had made it to town, even way down here in the Sonoran Desert. The heat soaked through her black sweater and fitted cotton blouse.
One of the library’s doors swung open as she approached. Ruth, Aunt Millie’s second in command, ushered her inside.
Ronnie nodded. “Morning, Ruth.” She waited for the older lady and her cane to join her in the foyer. “Those earrings look marvelous with that sapphire scarf and your hot pink lipstick.”
Ruth’s very bright lips curved into a wide smile. “Thanks, sweetie. You have great taste.” She cupped her hand over her mouth as if passing a secret. “In more ways than one.”
What did that mean?
“Millie had me hold that parking spot for you this morning.”
Ah. That was why parking was a breeze today. It paid to have friends in the library … or rather fellow gang members. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
Ruth winked. “We haven’t had this much excitement since Millie locked horns with that bitch over at the senior center.” Ruth grabbed Ronnie by the arm and led her toward their usual hangout by the internet computers. “Come on, Millie’s got everything ready for you.”
Ronnie allowed Ruth to lead her to where Aunt Millie stood outside the women’s restroom, her red walker blocking the door. Before anything was spoken, Ronnie offered a handful of tennis bracelets and rings, opening with her usual gesture of bribery. She was getting close to the bottom of her stash, so she hoped the ladies would be pleased with these as payment.
Aunt Millie pushed away Ronnie’s bribe. “Put those away. Save them for another day.”
“But I said I’d pay you for your help.” Ronnie looked over at Ruth and the other ladies sitting in their usual spots, their knitting needles clicking away.
Greta waved a single needle at her.
“I know you did,” Aunt Millie said, “but this one is on me. You have no idea how much fun we’ve had this morning preparing for your visit.”
Uh-oh. That could not be good. “Oh, really?”
“It’s amazing what us old babes can do when we put our minds to it.” Aunt Millie eyed her up and down. “Nice choice with the skirt and boots, but let’s get rid of this.”
She grabbed Ronnie’s sweater and tugged on it. Ronnie shrugged out of it. Aunt Millie inspected her outfit again with a critical eye, then she undid the top button on Ronnie’s blouse, clearing the way for a peek-a-boo of cleavage.
“There we go. Now you’re ready.” Aunt Millie moved her walker from in front of the restroom door and pushed Ronnie backwards through it.
“Wait! What are you …”
Aunt Millie waggled her fingers at Ronnie and then pulled the door shut in her face.
“I should have known you were behind this,” Grady said.
Ronnie whirled around. Sheriff Harrison sat on the sink counter down by the feminine napkins dispenser. He was dressed in full uniform, hat and star included. His long legs hung over the edge, his toes almost touching the floor. On the counter next to him was a sleep mask.
“I didn’t intend for this meeting to take place in here,” Ronnie told him, moving to the opposite end of the counter. “But it makes sense now that I think about it.”
This was where all of the old girls’ important meetings took place—good or threat-filled.
One of his black eyebrows lifted. “Why does it make sense for my aunt and her posse to abduct me from my office, force me to wear a blindfold, and keep me holed up in a women’s restroom until you arrived?”
Ronnie covered her grin with her hand, not wanting to irritate the man whose help she needed.
“It’s not funny, Veronica.”
“You have to admit it’s kind of funny.”
His expression did not admit any such thing.
“Why on earth would you allow a posse of old ladies to do this to you? You’re a big man in this town, Sheriff,” she added that last line in a
deep, John Wayne voice and then giggled into her fist.
His jaw tightened. “Aunt Millie blackmailed me.”
Ronnie pointed at the sleep mask. “And how exactly did she blackmail you into wearing that?”
“She asked me what I thought the busybodies down at the YWCA would think of the Sheriff of Cholla County necking in an old pickup outside of a seedy motel.”
Ronnie winced. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s not your fault. I’m the one who started it.”
“I didn’t exactly push you away.” She had practically suctioned onto his face. If they hadn’t been interrupted, who knew how far things would have gone.
“No, you didn’t.” Grady removed his hat and set it on the counter, then slid to his feet. “And that sort of troubled me during the night.”
Her, too. It was not something she wanted to think about while stuck on the couch in the Skunkmobile with her two sisters sleeping one paper thin wall away.
He crossed his arms. “So, what brings me to the women’s restroom today, Veronica?”
“This.” She pulled the gold pocket watch out of her purse and dangled it between them.
His gaze narrowed as he stared at it. “Is that what I think it is?”
“I believe so.”
“Why do you have it?”
“That’s a long story I’d rather not get into today.”
“Then why are you showing it to me?”
“I need your help.”
“This should be interesting.”
“And your promise of silence.”
Both eyebrows lifted. “You’re asking a lot already.”
“I know.” She set the watch on the counter and took a deep breath. “I want this watch to go back to its rightful owner.”
“You don’t need me for that.”
“That’s true.” She shoved her hands in her back pockets. “But now you know that I have it and you know that it’s stolen. As an officer of the law,” she nodded at the star on his shirt, “you have an obligation to investigate this further.”
“Correct.”
“I need you not to do that.”
He stared in silence, his face as rigid as always.
“If you open an investigation on this watch, it will draw attention to my family. I don’t want to see their lives torn apart and dissected like mine was.”
She paused, waiting to hear if he had anything to say about what she had told him so far.
When he remained silent, she continued. “If you feel morally that you need to pin this on someone, please put the tail on me.” She drew circles on the countertop around the watch, unable to hold his stare any longer. “What the hell, you know. I’m already on the Fed’s shit list. They’ve done a bang-up job totally fucking me over by invading my privacy, trashing my dignity, and hosing my future to the point that I’ll be lucky to get a job washing cars. While orange jumpsuits are not my favorite, I can probably benefit from the job training in the big house. Do they still make license plates and furniture in prison? I’ve always wanted to learn how to reupholster a chair. Going back to college for something more practical than Liberal Arts would probably be a good idea, too. Spanish might be a logical choice if I decide to stay in Arizona when I get out.”
“Veronica.” He interrupted her nervous rambling.
Her finger stopped circling. She looked up at him.
His gaze remained steady, detached. “Where did you get the watch?”
She wanted to lie. To say she found it somewhere inconspicuous. But Grady would smell that lie from a mile away, and since he stood only a couple of stalls down from her at the moment … “Ruby’s dead husband had it stashed.”
He nodded ever so slightly.
“I don’t want the Feds to mess with my family, Grady,” she appealed, trying not to sound like she was begging. But she would, if it came to it. For her family, she would do whatever it took. “We have enough problems as it is.”
He stepped two stalls closer, removing the breathing space between them. “Let me get this straight, Veronica. You want me to smooth a path for you through the paperwork that will be required with this watch turning up?”
His aftershave lured her even closer, but she held her ground. The last thing she wanted him to think was that she was willing to use her body to secure her family’s secret. Although, knowing how his kisses made her pulse rocket, her body probably would not object to the sacrifice.
“I guess,” she whispered, and then cleared her throat. “And whatever else it takes to keep my family’s names clear of this. It’s not just the Feds that I’m worried about. They may be rat bastards, but when they come looking for more from where this came, they won’t plan to kill if necessary. Someone else might.”
“That’s the silence you want me to promise?”
She nodded.
“Is there more from where this came?”
Now there was a sticky question. “I’d rather not answer that in a public restroom.”
“Fair enough.” The Sheriff grabbed a tissue from the box on the counter and used it to shield his prints from the watch when he picked it up and stuffed it in his pants’ pocket. “Let me think about this, Veronica.”
She nodded again, afraid to open her mouth, afraid of what might pour out in her moment of desperation.
He scooped up his hat. “Is there anything else you want to tell me before I leave the women’s restroom?”
She had pretty much summed up the watch favor request, so not really.
Hold up! There was something else.
“Yes, actually.”
He waited, watching her mouth. “I’m all ears.”
“There is a cowboy in a red pickup following me around. He’s been doing it for several days. I think I may have danced with him the other night at The Shaft after you left, but I was pretty drunk and can’t remember his physical description very well.”
His head cocked slightly.
“Except for his eyes. They were light green.”
“Do you often dance with strangers when you’re drunk?”
“No. And I usually don’t get drunk, just tipsy. But that night was extra special, including the drinking and dancing.”
“You think he’s stalking you?”
“I think he’s planning to kill me.” She pulled the piece of paper with the plate number from her back pocket, along with the phone number she’d found in her pants pocket the morning after the dancing. “I’d appreciate it if you could look up his plates and see if he has anything on his record that I need to be concerned about.” She handed Grady the papers. “I think the phone number might be his as well, but I’m not positive of that.”
He frowned down at the two pieces of paper. “What makes you think he wants to kill you?”
“Because he warned me to beware of the husky and the polar bear.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The way Mac figured it, he had two options.
He could either back away from the shaft and lead Claire out of harm’s way into the warm sunshine, and then return on his own to see what was tied to that rope; or …
Claire peeked around from behind him where he had tucked her for protection from whatever it was that had spurred his adrenaline. “Let’s pull up the rope and see what’s there,” she whispered.
… or they could do that.
“How do you feel about playing it safe?” he asked.
“What’s safe?”
“Going back down to my pickup and waiting for me there.”
“You know me better than that.” She stepped forward, peeking into the shaft. “It’s much more exciting to see what someone is hiding down there.”
“I don’t know if ‘exciting’ is the word I’d use.” He pulled her back from the edge again. Taking as wide a berth from the hole as possible, he moved around to the side where the rope had been secured. “If we’re lucky, it’s just a six pack of beer someone wanted to keep cool.”
“Why lower it dow
n there? Is the air temperature cooler?”
“Because this shaft has water in it.”
“How can you see that far down?” She leaned over the hole, shining her flashlight down in the mine shaft.
“Claire,” he said with a growl. “Would you stop getting so close to the damned edge?”
“I’m not going to fall in, Mac. I know what I’m doing.”
He snorted. “When have I heard that from you before?”
“I don’t know. When have we stood at the edge of a mine shaft and argued about me falling in before?”
Maybe he was going about this all wrong.
“Claire, you’re making me nervous. If you accidentally fell into this shaft and got badly hurt or worse, my life would go to hell. Will you please do me this one small favor and go stand over there.” He nudged his head toward the opposite wall about eight feet away from the hole, his hard hat beam showing her the way.
“Well, when you put it that way I’d be happy to move away from the shaft.” She walked over and leaned against the rock wall. “But I’m coming back for a closer look as soon as you pull up that rope.”
“Of course you are.” He lowered to his knees, wincing when he came down on some hard pebbles. Spreading his legs wider for a sturdier base, he began slowly reeling in the rope.
“Is it heavy?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I think it’s still in the water right now.”
“You never answered me.”
“About what?”
“How do you know there’s water down there? Your light can’t be that much better than mine.”
“I know the drifts and shafts of this mine. I re-mapped it last month because the old maps were inaccurate. I also took water samples from the two shafts that had flooded during the monsoon season and measured the water’s depth so I could check back periodically and see if the content or levels are changing. The water level in this one has been going down slowly. I figure it’ll be dry again in another month at the rate it’s draining.”
He continued bringing up the rope, circling it on the floor next to him.
“So that’s what you’ve been doing in the mines when you disappear for a day.”
