Pipeline

by Brenda Adcock

  Wiping blood from her face as gently as I could, I spoke to her in whispers. An eternity later she produced a low moan, and I continued talking to her, hoping she could hear me. In the midst of my talking, I heard a car in my drive and looked up in time to see a sheriff's unit coming to a stop in front of the house, red and blue lights flashing.

  Waving the flashlight toward them, I yelled, "Down here! Call an ambulance!"

  An instant later the unit was driving over the grass toward the barn. I was glad not to be alone and helpless anymore. As I watched the car come toward us, a hand grabbed my shirt and nearly gave me a heart attack. It was Lena's hand, as strong and powerful as ever, pulling me toward her until her mouth nearly touched my ear.

  "Who did this Lena?" I asked.

  "Four spies," she managed through swollen lips.

  Pulling my head up, I looked at her and wiped her forehead.

  "Did you know them?"

  She shook her head slightly, and something that might have been a smile crossed her swollen mouth. "This gonna cost you plenty extra," she rasped.

  Chapter Fourteen

  LENA DIED IN the ambulance, clinging to my hand, and it took me hours to get away from the sheriff's deputies. The assholes said it was probably someone hopped up on drugs and looking for money. Drugged-out psychos, my ass. I knew why Lena had been killed even though I didn't have a shred of evidence to prove it. I felt responsible for her death. I should have known what could happen. Someone was going to pay for what they had done, and I didn't care if I had to kill the s.o.b. myself.

  By the time a sheriff's car took me back to the ranch, I couldn't stand the thought of being there. The inside of the house was a disaster, and the sheriff's investigators would only make it worse. I couldn't shake visions of the struggle that must have taken place there from my mind. Although I had taken hundreds of pictures dealing with death and dying, violent death had never struck so close to me before. This time I wouldn't be able to turn and walk away as I always had. For now I needed to forget what I had seen that night and had to get the hell away from there. Knowing I wouldn't be able to get Lena's face out of my mind without help, I pulled into an all-night convenience store on the edge of town.

  How I got there without killing myself or getting pulled over I don't know, but a little after two in the morning I lurched to a stop in front of Cate's house in Austin. It was dark and for a while I sat in my car, finishing the last of the twelve-pack I bought in Kerrville. Too much beer too fast on an empty stomach had given me a thundering headache, but even that was better than thinking about Lena's face and imagining the pain she had endured because of me.

  I pushed the car door open and the rush of cool fresh air, combined with suddenly standing up, caused me to stumble. As I rested against the hood of the Blazer to regain my balance, I looked toward Cate's house. It wasn't what I had expected. Thought she'd have a real mansion, but it was an average-looking split-level ranch-style. A guard light over the garage lit up the front of the house; and it was a damn good thing or I'd never have made it to the front door. I pushed the doorbell and kept pushing it until an inside light came on. The front door cracked open, and I felt proud of myself for waking Cate up from a peaceful sleep. Why should she be enjoying herself on a night like this? I sure as hell wasn't.

  "Jo? What the hell are you doing here?"

  "We have to talk."

  "You're drunk." She frowned. "Come back if you sober up."

  "No! Now!" I shouted. "Open the fuckin' door!"

  "Will you shut up before the neighbors call the police?"

  "Let 'em! You know I don't give a shit about the police!"

  The front door closed, and I banged on it with my fist.

  "Open this door, goddamn it!"

  The door finally opened, and I pushed against it before she could change her mind. I pushed harder than I needed to, and the door flew open, sending me sprawling onto the entryway floor. She moved my legs out of the way and closed the door. Leaving me there, she went down a hallway into another room. I can't be certain how long I lay there before she returned, and I felt her hand on my arm.

  "Get up, Joanna."

  "I can't."

  "If you don't get up, I'll let you lie there the rest of the night."

  I rolled over and tried to look at her but couldn't get my eyes to focus properly. I sat up slowly and tried to take a deep breath. More air didn't help, and I knew my body was swaying.

  "The fuckin' floor is moving," I said.

  "How much have you had to drink?"

  "Obviously not enough. I'm still conscious," I answered.

  She took my arm, and eventually I was able to stand.

  With a little help from the walls and various pieces of furniture, I made my way into the living room. Cate took my arm again, attempting to lead me to the couch, but I jerked away from her.

  "Just leave me the fuck alone," I said, holding my arms up. "This is all your fault anyway. You just couldn't leave me the fuck alone."

  "Jo..." she began.

  "Lena's fuckin' dead!" I said, pointing at her. "And it's your fault."

  "What?"

  "Listen, damn it. Lena's been murdered. If you'd stayed out of my life, she'd be alive right now," I accused. "But no, you just had to butt into Kyle's business, and she paid the price! I'm alive, you're alive, Kyle's alive. But she's lying on a slab in the fuckin' morgue. Didn't even make it to the fuckin' hospital. Shit!"

  "I'm sorry, Jo. Sit down."

  I fell onto the couch and didn't hear her leave the room. When she returned, she tapped my arm and handed me a cup of coffee.

  "I don't want that."

  "Maybe not, but you need it."

  "What is it? Some of that fancy French vanilla hazelnut shit." As I took the cup, she kept her hands close to it in case I couldn't keep a grip on it.

  "Do you know what happened?"

  "She was trying to help. Someone found out. They killed her. End of Lena. End of story."

  "Did she tell you who did it, Jo?"

  "Don't you think that if I knew that, I'd have killed the son of a bitch already?" I was angry, frustrated at being interrogated. My eyes burned as I tried to ward off tears.

  "Who was she trying to help?"

  "Kyle."

  "How..."

  "The woman didn't even know him and ended up giving her life for his stupid fuckin' story. Shit!" I mumbled, fighting the tears that were forming in my eyes. "She did it to help me."

  Cate sat down on the couch next to me and put her hand on my shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Jo."

  "What the hell are you sorry about? You didn't know her. She was a nobody. A nothing."

  "She must have been a good woman for you to have cared about her."

  I set the coffee cup carefully on a table and rubbed my face with both hands. I could feel her hand on my shoulder.

  "Don't touch me. I don't want you to touch me. Lena's dead because of you," I said, even though I knew it wasn't true.

  "Why don't you lie down and sleep it off," she said as she let her hand slide from my shoulder.

  "I don't want to sleep. I don't want to dream about any of this. It's a fuckin' nightmare."

  She stood up and I leaned back on the couch with my eyes closed.

  "I wish things had been different. I wish I could have been a different person. Then maybe none of this would have happened," I said.

  "I don't think you could have changed, Jo," she said quietly. "You wouldn't have been you anymore."

  "Remember how we used to be?" I asked, half to myself. "I couldn't look at you without wanting you. I'd never met a woman as beautiful as you," I mumbled as I lay down slowly. I felt myself drifting toward sleep and was trying to fight it with the sound of my own voice even though it was beginning to trail off.

  "Don't talk. Try to rest," she whispered.

  I grabbed her arm and tried unsuccessfully to blink clear vision back into my eyes to look at her. "God, Cate, I loved you so much. I wish...
you knew."

  As my eyelids lost their battle with fatigue, I barely heard her say, "I knew, Jo, but it wasn't enough."

  She brushed my hair back with her fingers, and the feel of her hand on my hair made me feel safe and comfortable for the first time I could remember in fifteen years.

  WHEN MY EYES opened again, I tried to adjust them to the darkness, not sure where I was. My head pounded when I tried to sit up, and my tongue had Velcroed itself to the roof of my mouth. There was an afghan draped across me, and it almost won the battle as I tried to throw it off. My eyes strained in the dark to find my shoes. I didn't remember removing them, but then I didn't remember much about the previous evening after finding Lena. The only sound I could hear was a clock ticking somewhere. From the sound of it, it must have been a very large clock, or I had consumed more alcohol than I thought I had. I felt the pockets of my jeans and found my car keys. When I reached the Blazer and turned on the ignition, the clock on the dash told me it was a little before six. The sun would be up before I got back to the ranch.

  As the Blazer came around the final curve leading to my house, I saw two sheriff's vehicles parked on the lawn. A tow truck was backed up to Lena's car, and a middle-aged man in overalls was hoisting the rear end of the car in the air. I had no idea where they would take it or who would come forward to claim it, and I wished I had asked Lena more questions about her family. As I approached the house, a deputy I didn't recognize came onto the porch. Yellow police tape superficially blocked the entrance to the living room, and the deputy held the tape up as I ducked under it.

  "Are you all right, Ms. Carlisle?" he asked.

  "Yeah, great," I lied as I walked into the house.

  If anything it looked worse than I remembered. The cushions on the couch and chairs had been slashed, and other furniture was overturned. It was hard to tell what had been damaged by the search of the house, and how much had resulted from the struggle that must have occurred. Lena was a strong woman, and I knew she hadn't gone down without a helluva fight. The investigators hadn't helped either, spreading black fingerprint powder everywhere. I wandered into the kitchen and was glad to see that the coffee maker had escaped intact. I leaned against the counter and waited as coffee filled the pot. A few cups later, the deputy came into the kitchen.

  "We're about finished here, Ms. Carlisle."

  "Fine," I said without enthusiasm.

  "Are you planning to stay out here?"

  "No place else to go. When can I clean up this mess?"

  "Well, I think we've done all we can in the house. Just don't do anything in the barn until we can finish gathering up whatever there is to find there."

  "Guess I won't have any reason to be in the barn now," I said, remembering the sight of Jack's body lying in his stall.

  "It looks like whoever did this was looking for something. If they didn't find it, they might come back," he warned.

  "They didn't find anything. There wasn't anything here to find."

  "Do you have a weapon, ma'am?"

  "Yeah, and I know how to use it."

  "You might want to stay someplace else, at least for tonight."

  "Thanks, but I'll be fine."

  "We'll have a unit swing by here after dark, just in case."

  "Appreciate it."

  Ten minutes later everyone was gone, and I was alone with a monumental mess. I had left the house and everything in it basically the same as my parents had always had it. The only changes I had made since making it my home was converting a downstairs guestroom into a darkroom and redoing the office to make it more suitable for my needs. It was almost as if I had been trying to hang on to their memories by not changing too much. Now some bastard had felt the need to destroy those memories along with the furniture.

  It was after two in the afternoon before I stopped picking things up. The furniture was still a mess, but at least it was all upright again, and most of the fingerprint powder was cleaned up. Whoever had torn things up had missed the hidden storage area in the office floor where I kept a rifle and shotgun. Checking to make sure they were loaded, I leaned them against a wall where they could be reached quickly if I needed them. I was preparing to tackle my office when I heard the sound of a car. Grabbing the rifle, I went to the front door and looked down the road until a car I recognized came into sight. I pushed the screen door open and stepped onto the porch, leaning my rifle against the front doorjamb.

  Cate got out of her car and saw me standing on the porch. As I watched her walk toward me, I couldn't help but notice that she hadn't gain an ounce since the day I first met her.

  "What are you doing here?" I asked as she came up the steps toward me.

  "I thought you could use some help. Were you expecting someone else?" she asked, glancing at the rifle.

  "Whoever was here could come back for another look. They were probably looking for me instead of Lena anyway."

  I picked up my rifle and opened the screen door for her. She stopped just inside and shook her head.

  "Pretty messy," I said.

  "Where are you working right now?"

  "I thought I'd see what I can do in the office. It's pretty much trashed."

  I felt her hand on my arm. "Are you going to be all right?"

  "I'll adjust. I always have."

  We went into the office, and I began picking up papers from the floor. Cate left the room and returned with a bucket of water and sponges. We worked without talking for nearly an hour.

  Finally I said, "Let's take a break."

  She dried her hands on her jeans, and I went into the kitchen and poured coffee for us. We carried our cups onto the front porch to take in some fresh air and clear the disaster inside from our minds.

  "Do you want to talk about it, Jo?" she asked.

  "No," I answered without looking at her.

  "You can't keep your feelings bottled up inside. Sooner or later they're going to come out."

  "You know, Cate, I don't recall seeing a psychology degree hanging in your office when I was there."

  "I don't understand why you won't let anyone get close enough to help you."

  Shifting my eyes toward her, I said, "Because when you let someone get too close you eventually wind up hurting her or getting hurt yourself."

  "You want a refill?" she asked as she got up.

  "Why not," I said, draining my cup before handing it to her.

  While she was gone, I got up and stretched. I heard the sound of gravel being crushed under car tires again and quickly turned and looked. The rifle was leaning just inside the front door, but by the time I turned around, I saw I wasn't going to need it as a sheriff's unit came into view. I still had the rifle in my hand when the vehicle stopped. The door opened, and Cal Duncan stepped from the car.

  "You planning to shoot me, Jo?" He smiled.

  "Not this time, Cal."

  Cal and I had gone to school together in Kerrville. He had spent a lot of time outdoors, and now his face, rugged and brown with deep creases, reflected it. He looked like he was still physically fit, and I didn't doubt that he was still tough.

  "I been meaning to come out since I heard you were home. Sorry I didn't make it under happier circumstances," he said as he ambled up the steps and shook my hand.

  "Yeah, there's a lot of things we mean to do but never get around to."

  "Got a few minutes?"

  "Sure."

  The front door opened, and Cate came back onto the porch with our coffee. Cal removed his hat when he saw her.

  "Ma'am." He nodded.

  "Cate, this is Sheriff Duncan. Cal, Cate Hammond."

  Cate smiled and extended her hand to Cal.

  "Can I get you a cup of coffee, Sheriff?"

  "Wouldn't mind a cup, ma'am. Thank you."

  As Cate left us alone on the porch, we sat down, and I rested the rifle against the porch wall.

  "Nasty business out here, Jo. Got any idea what it was about?"

  "Yeah, but I don't have any evidence. Pr
obably involves a story I've been looking into."

  "What kind of story?" he asked as Cate reappeared with his coffee and handed it to him.

  He smiled as he said thanks again. Cate leaned against the porch railing and sipped her coffee.

  "It started out as a story about illegals and mushroomed from there."

  "Doesn't sound like something you'd usually be interested in."

  "It isn't," I said, glancing at Cate. "Actually the story is my son's. I was helping him out with some background information."

  "You think whoever came out here was looking for you, and Lena got in the way?"

  "Probably, but like I said, Cal, I can't say for sure."

  "No idea what they were looking for?"

  "I was just beginning to research the story. Hell, I could have it right in front of me and wouldn't know what I was looking at yet, so if it involved the story, they were a little premature."

  "Could be someone was trying to nip it in the bud."

  "Maybe."

  "By the way, Jo, Lena doesn't seem to have any relatives around here. Is there anyone you know we can contact to make the funeral arrangements?" Cal asked.

  "I'll take care of it. She might have relatives somewhere, but I don't know where they'd be."

  "Well, the county coroner will be ready to release the body later this afternoon."

  "Have them call Sanderson's. I'll let them know to expect her."

  Cal got up slowly until his full six-three frame was erect and handed his cup to Cate. "Appreciate it, ma'am. You be careful, Jo. And let me know if you think of anything I should know."

  Rising from my chair, I shook his hand.

  After Cal left, I located a phone book and looked up the number for Sanderson's Funeral Home, trying to imagine what kind of funeral Lena would like. It took about twenty minutes for me to discuss it with the funeral director. Since there wouldn't be many people attending, I opted for a simple graveside service. But at the last minute I asked the director if he could round up a mariachi group for the service. She would have liked that. That and a few beers. When I finally hung up the phone, Cate was nowhere in sight. I found her in the kitchen washing the cups.