Swope's Ridge

by Ace Collins

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Thought it was you.” She waved her hand. “I don’t guess you remember me, do you?”

  He remembered the voice. The name was on the tip of his tongue, but it just wouldn’t slide off.

  “Mabel Dean,” she volunteered. “You visited my farm outside of Mountain View not long ago.”

  “Yes, of course I remember. I sat out on your porch and you told me about Jesse James’ gold and Swope’s Ridge.”

  Mabel coughed, forced a deep breath, and cleared her throat. Her voice a bit raspier, she said, “Didn’t find Jesse’s loot, did you?”

  Mabel had sold the Ridge to Kaitlyn. Buying that property that Mabel’s husband believed held Jesse James’ loot had probably cost Kaitlyn her life. Yet it had also given Mabel the wealth the chain-smoking farm woman had dreamed of for her whole life. It had taken a death to bring Lije and Mabel together the first time and a near death to bring them back together now.

  “No, not Jesse’s loot. Did find some other stuff though.”

  “Just a legend.” Mabel laughed feebly. “That’s what I tried to tell Micah—just a legend.” Her voice drifted off as the cough came back. She hacked a few seconds before once more gaining control.

  “You visiting someone?” Lije asked.

  “Naw.” She again waved her hand. “I’m here for treatment. Lot a good it’ll do.”

  “I’m sorry,” he replied. “What’s got you?”

  “Four-pack-a-day habit caught up with me.” She tried to muffle another cough. “The lungs filled with cancer. It’s funny too. I mean really laugh-out-loud funny.”

  Lije expected her to continue, to explain what she meant, but instead she turned her face to the rising sun while futilely trying to grab a series of shallow breaths. Each attempt appeared to hurt more than the last.

  Moving a step closer, Lije asked, “What’s funny, Mabel? You lost me on that.”

  “Life.” She sighed. “Just when I finally get my hands on all that money your wife paid for the place, I receive a death sentence. Just never get a break.” A spate of deep hacking coughs took control. Eventually the spell passed. “I keep wondering what death is like. It’s got to be better than this. You want to know something else funny?”

  He could now see her face in the early-dawn light. She had aged twenty years in the few months since their only visit. “What’s that?” he asked.

  “I’ve got no insurance, so all that money is going to be used up fighting the Big C. It’ll run out about the same time I do. I figured that out last night. I spent most of my adult life waiting to get my hands on money. And now I’ll spend the last few months of my life spending that money to buy a few more days and make my death less painful. Life’s a joke—a big, cruel joke.”

  Lije wanted to respond, to give her some kind of hope, but fatigue and his own personal loss and now the shock of Janie’s attack had robbed him of any wisdom he might have been able to share. So he opted for a reply he was sure would ring hollow. “I’ll pray for you.” It was simple, direct, and he meant it, but it still seemed like a lightweight throwaway pledge.

  The woman was quiet as she looked up into his gray eyes as if searching for something. Finally she smiled. “Would you? Would you do that for me?”

  “Sure,” he replied. “Been doing that a lot in the past few hours for a close friend who’s here.”

  She paused, then posed a question. “Your wife was murdered, but you still believe God cares? I don’t understand that. I lost hope when Micah was killed. Then, when I sold the place to your wife, I just figured the money would make all the difference. And now this…”

  He understood. He really did. If money provided all you needed, then he’d be the happiest person on the globe. It was companionship that mattered. Finding a way to make a difference counted. Kaitlyn understood that. Janie did too. He’d taken it for granted until he’d lost it. “I don’t know why,” Lije said, “but deep inside I do believe. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t still pray.”

  “Is it too late for me to start praying?” she asked.

  “I’m not a preacher, but I don’t think it’s ever too late. Maybe if you start praying, you won’t feel so alone.”

  “I might try that,” she replied. “Not expecting miracles though.”

  “I’ll check back in on you,” Lije assured her.

  “Please do,” she said, her voice begging him to follow through on his promise. “I need to get back in my room before they discover I’ve flown the coop. Goodbye, Mr. Evans.”

  “Take care, Mabel.”

  Lije watched the woman slowly make her way back into the hospital. It was a shame. She was one of those who’d been looking so hard for the pot of gold that she had missed all of life’s rainbows.

  Mabel Dean had banked her life on winning some kind of lottery when all along she probably already had what she really needed. She just couldn’t see it.

  58

  THERE WAS NOW ENOUGH LIGHT TO MAKE OUT THE various colors and shades of the thousands of flowers in the garden. As he continued his slow walk, Lije saw them but didn’t absorb this tribute to natural beauty. His mind was too flooded with guilt. He was sure Janie was in the hospital because of something he had done. He was the cause. How many more people were going to be hurt? Was finding out why Kaitlyn had been killed worth all he was putting others through?

  Maybe it was time to admit defeat, sell Swope’s Ridge, and walk away. Trying to make an impact required too much effort, caused too much pain, incurred too much risk. If he needed any proof, it was in ICU.

  Maybe Swope’s Ridge was having the same effect on him as it had on Micah and Mabel Dean. Maybe it was causing him to miss the most important stuff in life.

  “Lije.”

  The male voice startled him. To his right, sitting casually on a wooden bench that faced away from the walk, was a sunburned face hiding beneath a blue baseball cap.

  “Ivy, what are you doing here?”

  “McGee told me to talk to you,” he said. “Saw you walk out the door, figured this would be the safest place for a private meeting. How’s Miss Davies?”

  “Don’t know yet. She got hit pretty hard.”

  “Tough break, but that’s why I’m here. I might have some information for you.”

  Lije moved closer. “When did you get back?”

  “Four hours ago. Met with McGee at the lake house and then hurried up here.”

  Lije was puzzled. “Ivy, what could you possibly know that you didn’t know when we were together yesterday?”

  “Maybe a lot, maybe nothing. Sit down. I need to talk here so no one sees us together.”

  Lije moved quickly to the bench. “Did you spot something on the videotape?”

  “No, haven’t been over the tape yet, but I’m sure the ship offers us no real information. What I’ve got happened after you all dropped me off at the beach. Once you were out of sight, I took a second look at the place where the planes must have taken off, then went back to the village where Pedro Hernandez grew up. Do you remember in the story he told you about the man who drove Ricardo to the bus station?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “I gambled that someone might have known him, so I asked around. You’re never going to believe this. I found out that guy’s still alive. He’s in his nineties, but sharp as a tack. When I fished ten one-hundred-dollar bills out of my pocket, his memories of that day became even clearer than Hernandez’. One part of it’s really interesting.”

  Lije leaned closer so he could hear better.

  “The morning before the elder Hernandez was murdered, a different man walked into the village looking for someone who spoke English. The person he found was the man who drove Ricardo. His name is José Sanchez. The stranger asked if there was a store where he could purchase some supplies. Sanchez told him the closest place was about ten miles, but he could drive him there in his Model T, for a price. A deal was made and Sanchez and a friend, Ramón Tristan, drove the strang
er to the store. The man purchased some food and booze and had Sanchez take him back to the beach.”

  “So Sanchez saw the planes on the ground?”

  “No,” Beals replied, “but he saw the earth-movers making what we know was a runway. At the beach, the stranger gave Sanchez the money and offered the men a drink. He mixed up something in two of the drinks and handed those glasses to the Mexicans. Told them it would add a real kick. The stranger made a toast and the three men lifted the glasses. Tristan drank it down, but just as Sanchez was going to join them, one of the earth-movers fired up its motor and startled him, causing him to spill his drink. He told me he was too shy to ask for another, so he just pretended he had enjoyed it. A few minutes later the stranger paid them an extra ten dollars each if they would promise to keep quiet about what they saw. True to their word, they both did.”

  This added a bit to Hernandez’ original story, but didn’t seem worth a special trip to Salem. They still had nothing. “Did he get a name from the stranger?” Lije asked.

  “You’re going to love this. Johnson. And one more thing. Sanchez was the one who took Hernandez’ hero, the man he called Rick, to the bus station. As he dropped him off, he asked where he was going.”

  Beals waited for a person to walk past them. Only when the man was thirty feet away did the detective whisper, “Oz.”

  “What?” Lije was sure he had misunderstood.

  Beals said, “Rick told Sanchez he was going to Oz. I’m guessing Sanchez either misunderstood the man or Rick was trying to lead him up a blind alley. I’ve done map searches and can’t find any place by that name.”

  “Anything else?” Lije asked.

  “A couple of things. Don’t know if this first one means anything, but about a week later, Tristan started to get sick. At first it was just a bellyache, then he was short of breath. The village had no doctor, so his family treated his condition with some native herbs. Each day he continued to get worse. Sores broke out on his skin, his heart began to beat faster, and his breathing became more labored. By the third week, he was nothing more than skin and bones and smelled like he was rotting. Sanchez said it was like some biblical plague; it was as if his skin was being eaten away from the inside. His teeth fell out, he lost his sight, and he died screaming. That was eighteen days after they had been to the beach. The villagers thought he was possessed.”

  “Interesting,” Lije replied, “but where does it get us?”

  “I don’t know,” Beals replied, “but here’s the real kicker. After he finished his story and took my money, Sanchez informed me that another man had paid him two thousand the day before for the same information. When I showed him a picture of Omar Jones, he confirmed he was the person who had traded cash for information.”

  So Arif knew the story Hernandez had told them. ’Course, most of it was posted on the preacher’s website. The rest the locals could probably recite verbatim. What had Arif seen in that story that they hadn’t?

  “Listen, Lije, I’ve got to go. I need to touch base with Klasser’s brother. He might have a lead on Arif. He promised me he’d work on it. I’ll contact you later today. If you come up with anything, let me know.

  “Oh, and one more thing. I paid another grand for a rifle that was left on the beach that day. Obviously it’s not the same gun used for Bleicher’s execution, but I figured Curtis could tell if it’s the same type. It’s in the back seat of your car. You need to learn to lock up.”

  And then the big man was gone, almost as if he had evaporated into the morning air.

  Lije walked back into the hospital, back to ICU and the plate-glass window that separated him from Janie. As he stood there looking at his assistant, it hit him. Arif was in Salem. Arif had almost killed Janie.

  He backtracked to put logic with his belief. Arif must have watched them dive in the Gulf and followed them back to their plane. He found out who they were and where they were going.

  Arif would have noticed the Bible on the table because of the one just like it in Mueller’s room. He was trained in espionage. He would have known an amateur would hide the formula behind a photograph.

  Finally, it was all beginning to make sense.

  59

  “HOW’S JANIE DOING?”

  Lije saw Reverend Hodges’ reflection in the ICU window. The minister was new to the church and Lije had met him only a few times. “They tell me she’s coming out of it. The next few hours will tell.”

  “That’s something to hold on to. Let’s pray that she’s going to be just fine.”

  “That’s what I’ve been asking for all night,” Lije replied, his gaze intent on the events in the room.

  Dr. Herring spoke to Janie. She answered. The doctor held up his hand, as if Janie could see the fingers. Then he obviously remembered, dropped his hand, and asked another question. From his smile, it seemed the answers were at least entertaining. Without taking his eyes off the two in the room, Lije said to the preacher, “Do you know Mabel Dean?”

  “I’ve seen her name on the patients list, but never met her.”

  “Mabel’s a bit coarse,” Lije said, “but she’s all alone and going through a tough time. Terminal cancer. I’d appreciate it if you could get some folks at the church to start coming by to visit with her. She needs something and someone to hang on to. Her whole life has been unhappy. It’d be nice if she could find some joy in her final days.”

  “I’ll go down there now,” Hodges said. “I’ll be back.”

  “Thanks.”

  Dr. Herring, beaming a wall-to-wall smile, walked out of Janie’s room. “It’s amazing. Having half a church here praying for her must have done some good. Her mental capacities are fine. In fact, her biting humor’s back. She wants to see you, but wear your bulletproof vest. Everything she shot my way was right on target.”

  “I appreciate the warning.”

  Thank God for big favors. Janie was going to be okay even though she was in that bed because he had involved her in his mess. He had put her at risk. That was a bitter taste he couldn’t spit out.

  “Hey, boss,” she said as he opened the door.

  “Hey, girl.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Let me guess: Old Spice.”

  “Gives you away every time.” She laughed. “And if that kiss is supposed to make it feel better, it’s not going to work. While I was asleep someone built a bowling alley behind my eyes. The strikes are easier than the spares. And let’s not even talk about the gutter balls.”

  “I hear you’re going to be fine,” he said, relief in his voice.

  “You were worried?”

  “I should’ve been there. You shouldn’t have been at the office alone. You should not be in this mess. It’s far too dangerous. I’ve been thinking, to have a person—”

  “To have a blind person? To have someone with a handicap? Is that what you were going to say?”

  “Yeah…that’s it. I never should have brought you into this. You were better off in Little Rock. You were safe.”

  “You hired me because you felt sorry for me,” she countered. “You wanted to give the poor blind girl a break. All I ever was to you was a charity case. Nothing more. ‘Poor little Janie.’ “

  “No,” Lije shot back, “I hired you because you’re good. I hired you because I saw things in you that proved to me you had great insight and wisdom. I hired you because the last firm you worked for thought your skills were tops.”

  “Don’t you still need those things? That insight, wisdom, and skills stuff? Or has that changed overnight?…I guess it must have. You’ve obviously changed. I can read it in your tone. Sounds to me like you were the one who got hit on the head.”

  Like she’d done on so many occasions, Janie was painting him into a corner. “Yes, I need all those things. But working for me right now, the violence with Swope’s Ridge, what we’re doing with McGee, we’re a target. I can see it coming. You can’t.”

  “I can hear it before you can see it,” she argued. “It’s
not your fault I got hurt. The reason it happened? Harlow was at the vet’s. If she’d been with me, I’d have been much safer than you would’ve been if you’d been by yourself. I’m not going to walk away from my job. I don’t scare that easily.”

  “But—”

  “What do you want, Lije? Do you want to lock me in my house? For my own safety? Isn’t that what they did to people like me a hundred years ago? My walking across a highway is a bigger risk than my working at your office. I like pushing my limits. I like trying to figure out this mystery. Don’t trap me in a dark world. I want to live. I want to be involved with life, not hiding from it.”

  She paused. “Oh, and one more thing: if you fire me, I’ll sue. I know my work has exceeded your expectations and the only reason you’d have for showing me the door is my handicap. You want to take me on in court?”

  She was feisty. “Janie, how did anyone get the jump on you?”

  “I fell asleep,” she said. “I was too busy worrying about Harlow. If I’d been more focused, then I’d have picked up on it in time to do something.”

  “Any idea who it was?”

  “Yeah. A man, six-foot-two, brown eyes, light sandy hair, three freckles over his right eye, walked with a slight limp. Wore a gray warmup suit.”

  That sounded a lot like—

  “You’re not actually buying that, are you?”

  Her words caught him in mid-thought.

  “I can hear things, but I can’t hear freckles, brown eyes, and light hair.” She giggled, then quickly changed her tone. “I have no idea. Could’ve been anybody.”

  Lije couldn’t believe she had so easily reeled him in. “Whoever it was is still out there. How about if we hire a couple of off-duty deputies to provide office security for a while?”

  “Might be good. Someone’s after Diana. Don’t want to see her hurt.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, this is all about Curtis.”

  “What did you find out in Mexico?”

  “We saw the Ark of Death, a hundred fifty feet down, blown to shreds. It was disguised as a Red Cross ship. Confirms Hernandez’ story. Arif was there before us, we’re sure of that, but we don’t know where he went after he left Mexico. Or if he’s still there.”