Looking Through Darkness

by Aimée Thurlo

  “Deal, but I’ll have to get the bookkeeping software set up at night and on weekends. If that’s okay with you, just leave your laptop here for me at the trading post and put the paperwork in a shoe box, paper bag, or whatever.”

  “Will do.”

  “One more thing. Could you have the pendant ready in two months? I’d like to give it to my shimasání on her birthday, July thirty-first.”

  “That’ll have to depend on the availability of the right stone. I’m picky. You want green turquoise? I’ve got some Manassa green from Colorado, with a great golden matrix.”

  Sam nodded. “Sounds beautiful. It’s one of her favorite shades.”

  “All right, then. I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, write down the name of any software you want me to buy.”

  “If you’ve got a top-of-the-line laptop, you probably have what you need already, but I’ll have a list of essentials for you by the time you leave today.”

  She went inside, and a few minutes later came back with some cold mineral water for him. Sam placed it on the table beside him and hung around, watching him work.

  “What’s on your mind?” Ambrose asked, looking up after he’d finished setting a stone into the bezel of a small pendant.

  She opened her mouth to speak. “No, forget it. It’s none of my business.”

  “Go on. It’s okay.”

  “When you first came into the store, you seemed all friendly and relaxed, but your expression changed when you looked at Jo. For a second or two you looked … worried. I don’t think anyone else noticed, but I see things like that because in my work, like yours, details are everything. I know you and Ben are close friends, so I wondered. Is something wrong?”

  “You read people pretty well, kid,” Ambrose said.

  Sam shrugged. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “I spoke to Ben the other day and found out he’ll be going into a hot spot. That’s what he trained for, but I got the feeling he thought he might not make it back out this time.”

  He paused. “That’s just my gut talking, so keep it under wraps.”

  She nodded. “I think Jo sensed the same thing.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “She’s been checking her email and Skype almost every hour. I’m guessing she’s going out of her mind waiting to hear from Ben again. It’s what I’d do, too, if my—” She stopped talking. “Anyway, you get the idea.”

  “Yeah, but now I’m curious,” he said, giving her a disarming smile. “Who’s the guy you’ve set your sights on?”

  “Me? No one. I was speaking hypothetically.”

  “Aw, come on. I haven’t had anyone to share secrets with since my partner moved out and I’m almost sure I’m going through withdrawal. Spill it.”

  Sam laughed. “Yeah, I know how that goes. My best friend’s in college now, and she’s too busy to even email most days. We used to tell each other everything.”

  “See that? We can create balance for each other and that’ll bring harmony. All we’ve got to do is start talking. So who’s the lucky guy?”

  “It’s Jack Colburn, but he doesn’t even know I’m alive. He treats me like his kid sister,” she said, and rolled her eyes.

  “I’ve met the guy, cowboy and ex-soldier, right? He’s what, ten years older than you?”

  “More. I’m twenty-one, he’s thirty-two, and way out of my league.…”

  “Why do you say that? You could catch any guy’s eye.”

  “Yeah, except Jack’s,” she muttered.

  “And he’s not gay?”

  She smiled. “Nope.”

  “Here I thought I’d have a shot at him.”

  Sam laughed. “Forget it. I got there first. What about you? Anyone new on the horizon?”

  Ambrose shook his head. “I’ve met some people online, but I don’t make friends quickly.”

  “You? But everyone loves you!”

  He smiled. “I’ve got lots of acquaintances, but close friends? Those, I can count on one hand.”

  “I’ll give you the same advice my shimasání gave me: Stop assuming you know what everyone’s thinking.”

  He had to laugh. “That’s the first time anyone ever said that to me.”

  “Yeah, I get it. You’re all muscle and toughness, but when it comes to meeting people, you’re insecure. You don’t trust anyone’s motives.”

  “And you’d know all this—how?” he pressed, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  “My shimasání again. She told me that you wouldn’t deal with anyone except Ben’s dad or Jo before all the bad things happened. Then Ben came back into the picture, and not just as an old friend but as a part-owner. That’s when you finally allowed yourself to become part of the trading post family.”

  “That’s true enough, but the reality is I’ve got to be careful. Some people hate gays.”

  “There’s always more than enough hatred to go around. Some kids gave me a hard time back in high school because I worked harder and could outthink them. I was the geek no one wanted to take to the prom.”

  “It can sting to be the outsider,” he said, nodding. “People, especially kids, can be so cruel.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Sam sighed. “I better go put that folding sign out by the street, to let everyone know you’re here today.”

  “Go ahead,” Ambrose said. As Sam turned away, he added, “Oh, one more thing. I went to school with Jack, and he was always the quiet type, the ‘still waters run deep’ kind. Don’t assume he’s not interested just ’cause he’s not saying anything.”

  “You really think so?”

  “Yeah, Jack isn’t easy to read. In high school, I never considered him a friend—until one day four guys jumped me and Ben after a game. We were down on the ground, but they wouldn’t let up. Jack jumped in and threw them all off us. He even bounced one guy we called ‘Brick’—for obvious reasons—right off the wall.”

  She smiled. “That sounds like something Jack would do. It’s hard to get him riled, but if he thinks he’s in the right there’s no stopping him.”

  He smiled. “You’re totally crazy about him.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” she said and sighed. “Buy me a macadamia double mocha cappuccino sometime, Ambrose. I’ll tell you about my lack of a love life, and you can tell me about yours.”

  He laughed. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Sam.”

  While Sam took care of the sign, Ambrose got ready to put on his show. He tied on his red headband, unbuttoned his shirt, and rolled up his sleeves. People would soon be stopping by to watch him work and to talk. Gossip was rampant in small towns, so with a little luck, by the end of the day, he’d have a better handle on what was happening to Jo and Leigh Ann.

  — TWELVE —

  It was close to six when Jo came out onto the porch, a wide smile on her face. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had that much drop-in traffic. You worked magic, Ambrose.”

  “Everyone loves a show, particularly the tourists, and this time of year they pass right by here on their way to the national tribal powwow in Albuquerque. That’s a huge draw.”

  “You could make some good money selling stuff there,” Jo said.

  “Maybe, but I haven’t wanted to travel to the city lately. It’s a long trip and I don’t want that much time alone to think.”

  “Yeah, I hear that,” she said.

  “What’s going on, Jo? When I took a restroom break, I noticed the rifle in your office. And I saw that tribal cop stop by.”

  “He wanted to ask me about last night,” Jo explained, then filled him in on what had happened at her house and why she was now traveling to work with a rifle handy.

  “Look, sweetheart, I live less than twenty minutes from your place. If you’re in trouble, call me.”

  “Ben mentioned that you promised to keep an eye on us here, but you don’t really have to do that.”

  “You’re wrong, Jo, I do. Ben and I are friends and that means something t
o both of us. If our situations were reversed, I know I could count on him to help me—no matter how tough it got. I have no intention of letting him down, so use speed dial. I can get there faster than most cops and I’m a good man to have beside you in a fight.”

  “I have no doubt of that,” she said.

  “Good. Now I’m going to talk to Leigh Ann. I think she needs a friend, too.”

  Jo nodded slowly. “She’s investigating some stuff related to her late husband and getting in way over her head. She’s proud, too much so if you ask me, but sometimes pride’s the only thing a person has left.”

  “Yeah, and we both know what that’s like, don’t we?” He looked back at the table. “I finished three pieces this afternoon and Samantha put them on display. I know there was a lot of interest, but did any of them actually sell?”

  “All of them,” Jo said with a grin. “I can cut you a check before you leave.”

  “Good enough. Let me get my tools and torch packed up, then I’ll grab another mineral water and talk to Leigh Ann while I wait.”

  “I’ll send someone to help.”

  Jo went back inside, and a minute later, Leigh Ann came out. “I sure wish you’d stop by more often,” she said.

  “For my wares?” he said, teasing her as he buttoned up his shirt.

  “Yeah—all of them,” Leigh Ann answered, laughing.

  “So, tell me, Leigh Ann, what’s happening with you lately? I ran into Rachel at the Bullfrog,” he said, lowering his voice. “She said you’re now packing a .38 for protection?”

  “Rachel has a big mouth.”

  “No, sweetheart, I’m just easy to talk to, or haven’t you noticed? Women know they don’t have anything to worry about around me.”

  “But they can still dream, huh?”

  “All they want. It’s free,” he said with an irrepressible grin. “It’s a great ego boost, too.”

  She smiled.

  “Rachel hinted that you were having problems, and that the law had been paying visits. You going to tell me what’s up?”

  “The short version,” she said, and briefly explained about Kurt’s stash and the subsequent events.

  “That sucks, darlin’.”

  “Yeah, major league. But it is what it is. That’s why I’ve started carrying a .38.”

  “How long as it been since you fired a revolver?”

  “I don’t know … high school? Kurt was a rifleman and that’s what we’d always shoot at the range. I don’t remember him having a revolver at all until the .38 turned up. To be honest, I don’t even know if he got it legally.”

  “I didn’t hear that.”

  “I never said it,” Leigh Ann whispered, wishing she’d just learn to keep her mouth shut.

  “I’m a member of the Zia Shooting Range—this side of Farmington. Why don’t we go over there and practice?”

  “I don’t know … I was planning to run some errands,” she said. Target practice was something she and Kurt had done together and she really didn’t want to stir up old memories.

  “If you’re going to be carrying that .38 around, Leigh Ann, loading, unloading, and firing it has to be second nature to you or you’re likely to shoot yourself.”

  “No, I grew up around guns. I shot in competition a few times back in high school, too. Sight picture, trigger control, all that is practically instinctive to me,” she countered, “but you make a good argument. I need to fire this particular revolver and get much better acquainted with it.”

  “Let’s go get in some practice.” Seeing Jo listening, he added, “You should come, too, darling. Bring that rifle of yours.”

  She considered it and nodded. “All right. I can use a confidence builder. Once the last of the customers leave, we’ll lock up and head on over.”

  Several minutes later, Leigh Ann crossed the room to lock the front door and set the alarm. As she did, she saw John and Melvin pulling into a parking spot.

  “Whoever’s out there, ask them to come back tomorrow,” Jo called from the back of the store. “We’re closed.”

  “It’s John and Melvin,” Leigh Ann answered.

  “Were you expecting them?” Jo asked.

  “No, I wasn’t.” The men walked up onto the porch and Leigh Ann let them in.

  “Hey, Leigh Ann, Jo,” Melvin said, looking in their direction.

  “Okay, no way you caught a whiff of my perfume, or even my hair spray. By now both have faded away,” Leigh Ann said, smiling.

  “True, but there’s still enough light for me to tell you two apart. Your height, hairstyle, scent, posture; they’re all clues in sorting out the mystery. You work with what you’ve got. We all do the same thing to one extent or another.”

  “I see keys in hand, so I’m guessing everyone here’s about to leave, Melvin,” John said, “so we should shove off, too. I’m already late.”

  “Since you’re in a hurry, John, would you like me to give Melvin a ride somewhere?” Leigh Ann asked, guessing what had prompted the visit and eager to enjoy some more time with Melvin.

  “John’s got a date tonight,” Melvin said, “and we took too long running errands.”

  “We were about to go with Ambrose to the shooting range and take in some target practice,” Leigh Ann said, “but I can hold off on that and take you home or wherever you need to go.”

  “No, don’t bother. Getting some target practice in is a real good idea, all things considered,” Melvin said. “If you let me come along, and someone can give me a ride home afterwards, I’ll be happy to buy everyone dinner.”

  Knowing Melvin needed to get his swamp cooler fixed, Leigh Ann decided to decline. “I have some things I need to do later tonight, so let me take you home once we’re finished, okay?”

  “I’ve got plans, too,” Jo said. “I’ve got to catch up on some paperwork.”

  “Well, I can give you a ride to the range and then back to your place, bro,” Ambrose said. “That should entitle me to a Navajo taco, chips, and salsa.”

  Melvin laughed. “You got it, Ambrose,” he said, then added, “John, we’re good here. Go ahead and take off to meet your lady friend.”

  After John left, Leigh Ann started to take Melvin’s arm so she could lead him outside, but Ambrose stepped in and put his hand on Melvin’s shoulder. “Hey, buddy, do you still have a thing for classic cars?”

  “Sure. I just enjoy them in a different way. Engine sounds, acceleration, four on the floor, the room of a bench instead of sunken-down seats. They’re all good.”

  “Then you’re in for a treat. I just restored the interior and there’s acres of legroom,” he said, taking Melvin to his truck.

  Leigh Ann watched them, lost in thought. She had a feeling Ambrose wanted to talk to Melvin about something specific. Wondering what it could be, she walked to her Jeep.

  * * *

  Melvin climbed into the passenger’s side of Ambrose’s truck with ease, thanks to the running board.

  “I like your truck already. The bench seats and back are comfortable, and the leather has that new smell.”

  “I oil the hell out of it,” Ambrose said.

  “So what’s on your mind. My gut tells me it’s something important.”

  “Yeah, it is. I promised Ben I’d keep an eye on the trading post family, but I’ve got my hands full with Jo. I was hoping you’d stick closer to Leigh Ann until we can get a better handle on whatever’s going down.”

  “Something else has happened, hasn’t it?” Melvin asked.

  “Yeah. Somebody tried to set fire to Jo’s house late last night. Thankfully the noise woke her and she was able to run the guy off. Tribal cops are investigating.”

  “I’ll stay close to Leigh Ann, but I need you to do something for me. Keep a sharp eye on how she handles and fires that revolver. She talks a good game, but if she’s a bigger danger to herself than an attacker could be, I’m going to try to convince her to lock it up somewhere.”

  “All right. Let’s see how it goes,�
� Ambrose said.

  “I wish she’d stay with me and let the detectives do their jobs, but that’s not going to happen.”

  “You’ve asked her to move in?”

  “No, we’re not there in our relationship yet,” Melvin answered, “but even if we were, she wouldn’t do it. She’s hell-bent on finding her own answers. My going to her place won’t help either. I’m not familiar with the layout. I’d be … a liability,” he said, spitting out the word.

  “Somehow I doubt it. Your other senses help make up for what you can’t see, and in a dark room, you’re an equal.”

  “To a degree, yes,” Melvin said, “but what I lost to that drunk driver still puts me at a disadvantage. I know my limitations—that’s how I overcome them.”

  “Our biggest problem is that we’re fighting an unseen enemy.”

  “And that’s where the playing field levels,” Melvin said with a grin.

  * * *

  Once they’d all reached the shooting range—a collection of firing locations and small buildings surrounded by a massive fifteen-foot-high earthen berm—Leigh Ann bought a box of ammunition for her .38 at the clubhouse.

  From there Ambrose led them to the rifle range, a row of wooden tables along a firing line about fifty yards away. Jo carried her rifle, and in her jacket pocket was the nearly full box of shells she’d had in her car.

  As they walked toward the site, Ambrose described what they’d be facing. “The target stands downrange are spaced at one hundred, three hundred, and five hundred yards. You think you can handle the hundred? I’ve got some fifty-foot bull’s-eye pistol targets in my truck. They’ll do for practice.”

  “It should be a nice challenge with my rifle. Sure,” Jo replied.

  They went to their assigned table—actually one of ten shooter’s bench rests along the firing line. The club wasn’t crowded and soon a cease-fire was announced over the loudspeaker, which allowed Ambrose to set up their targets.

  “I think I know what’s on your mind, Ambrose,” Jo said when he returned to the firing line. “You want to be able to tell Ben that I can handle the rifle and safely defend myself. He was a sniper for his first deployment, so he’d worry about that.”

  Leigh Ann squinted. “That sucker’s way out there, Jo. It’s nothing more than a little black dot. And you’ve got open sights. We didn’t bring a spotting scope, so how can we tell if you’re even close?”