Reluctant Runaway

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  “Tony, I’m not stupid.”

  He stood and stretched. “No, you’re too smart for your own good.”

  “Believe me when I say that I don’t take foolish chances.” Exasperation weighted her voice.

  “That shoot-out today was part of this same case. My squad is trained to handle situations—we thought we had our bases covered—and look what happened.”

  “Does that mean I’m supposed to walk around afraid to help people?”

  Tony sighed. “I’m nuts about you just the way you are, but that’s the problem. Call it a guy-thing, but I need to know you’re safe even while you’re out saving the world.”

  “You’ve always made me feel safe. Even when I couldn’t stand the sight of you, I knew that any bad guy would have to come through you to get to me. But sometimes, dear heart, you take that protective instinct too far. It builds a wall between us. Like today—you kept me out, when you should have pulled me close.”

  Tony closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. The gal knew how to take the wind out of his self-righteous sails. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. My logic seemed right at the time.”

  “I do forgive you, but let’s keep working on communication, okay?”

  “What do you say we get busy on it face-to-face? I’m coming to Albuquerque.”

  “When?” The question came out breathless.

  Aw, sweetheart, I can’t wait to hold you, too. “I’d be out the door right now, but I’ve got this thing I have to do in the morning. I’ll catch the earliest flight after that.”

  “You can leave your squad?”

  “Polanski can hold down the fort. Sounds like the action’s out west. If my superiors won’t send me on the Bureau clock, I’ll take time off and be there anyway.”

  “What about Agent Ortiz? Will she want you horning in on her territory?”

  “We’ve been cooperating in this investigation. We’ll get along.”

  “You’re not coming just to keep an eye on me?”

  There was that edge to her tone. Tony puckered his brow. Protect her, yeah, but not smother her. Didn’t she get the difference? “Honey, looking after you is the job of a legion of angels, not one man.” He forced a laugh. “Don’t you want me there?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Good. I’ll call you when I have an arrival time.”

  In the background at her end, a phone rang.

  “And I’ll pick you up with bells on.”

  The phone rang another time.

  “Can’t wait. Get some sleep now.”

  The ringing phone cut off in the middle of the third jangle.

  “Hold on!” Desi’s voice came low and urgent. “There’s another thing about this ‘new Waco’ that makes the old one look like a kiddie’s sandbox.”

  Tony’s insides curdled. “That’d take a lot, babe. Do you have any idea what went on in Koresh’s compound?”

  “A rough idea. And Sanctuary’s got some of the same things going, plus their own wrinkle. But I can’t blurt it out over the phone.”

  “Des! You’re going to drive me to the loony bin.”

  “No, I’m going to drive you wherever you want to go when you get here.”

  “Amusing that wasn’t.”

  “Nothing about this situation is amusing.”

  “Des?”

  “Yes.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Tony. You have no idea.” Fresh tears ruffled her tone. “Hurry!”

  “I will. Hang in there, sweetheart.”

  “You, too.”

  “I will. Bye.”

  Tony shut the phone off, chest tight. Desi, darlin’, what has your nose for trouble led you into now? He’d lied like a dog a few minutes ago. He thought he meant it when he said looking after her wasn’t his top agenda item. But she had no idea what these people might be capable of doing if they caught wind of what she knew Until she figured out how to act within safe bounds, superglue couldn’t stick him any closer to her side.

  Sleep well tonight? Not hardly!

  Desi sat on the edge of the bed. She needed Tony, but she was going to smack him if he didn’t start trusting her to take care of herself better than a first grader.

  The bedroom door crashed open. Desi shrieked and jumped up.

  Jo filled the doorway, red-faced. “How come you didn’t tell me Pete’s truck was found wrecked and he’s missin?”

  Desi snapped her phone shut. “I thought you wanted me to respect your religion. Seemed to me that television show was church time for you.”

  “For somethin’ like that I would’ve stopped and listened.” Jo’s chest heaved.

  Says the woman who couldn’t peel her eyes off the tube long enough to ask me if I found anything out about her daughter today. Desi stuffed her phone into her pocket. “How’d you hear about Pete?”

  “Agent Ortiz called. She’s on her way over, pretty annoyed that you didn’t give me the message.”

  “She’d better keep her bee in her bonnet, because mine will have hers for lunch.”

  “This I gotta see.”

  “You might want to know that your house is under FBI surveillance.”

  “What? Where?” Her gaze darted to the bedroom window.

  “When I drove up, I spotted the surveillance car. Believe me, I know what one of those looks like.”

  “They’re watchin’ for Pete?”

  “I assume so.”

  “They’ll have a long wait. If you can spot a fed with your eyes wide open, my ex can do it blindfolded. They develop a sixth sense for cops on the res. By now he should be hiding out with friends in the desert.”

  “Knowing the FBI, they’ve checked the reservations already.”

  Jo shook her head. “Won’t do them any good. Indians take care of their own. They don’t trust the white man’s law, often with good reason.”

  “I won’t argue with you there.”

  Their gazes met and held.

  ‘You’re an interestin’ woman, Desiree Jacobs. I can see why my sister likes you. How about I show you my workshop out back?”

  “I’d love to see your workshop.”

  Desi followed her hostess through the house and out the kitchen door onto the poured slab patio in the backyard. The evening air smelled of grill smoke. A stone path led to the small, tile-roofed building she’d noticed earlier today.

  Desi looked back at the house. “What about the visitor we’re expecting?”

  Jo shrugged. “If she’s such great shakes as an agent, she’ll find us.”

  Chuckling, Desi stepped into the workshop. A faint odor of glue struck her. She would have expected the smell to be stronger, but she noted fan-operated ventilation ducts. A workbench hugged the far wall, and a rectangular wooden table sat in the middle of the plank floor. Long banks of lights illuminated tools hung on racks or stowed in bins. Different shapes and colors of ceramic tile filled plastic tubs. An unfinished project sat on the table, pieces of unapplied tile scattered about.

  She smiled at Jo. “I’ll bet you have fun in here.”

  “I do.” The woman touched a button on an electronic wall panel and soft sounds caressed the eardrums—one of those nature sounds CDs.

  Jo perched on a stool and shoved tiles around with her fingers. “How did your business at the museum turn out? Anything that would help clear Karen?”

  So the woman did have questions; she just wanted to ask them from the vantage point of her inner sanctum. Desi frowned. What could she tell Jo without saying too much? “The administrator’s determined to blame HJ Securities for the theft. He doesn’t want any of his employees to be guilty. Liability issues.”

  “Cold-blooded.”

  “I think it comes with the territory. Anyway HJ Securities is out of a contract with the Albuquerque museum. I did get the chance to browse around, but the crime scene was cleaned up. Good information about the Anasazi, though.”

  “Sounds like a bust of a trip.”

  Desi
held her peace.

  Jo placed a tile into the design in progress. “Did you have a nice visit at Inner Witness Ministries?”

  Now we get to the point. “I was welcomed with open arms.”

  Jo smiled. “The staff was friendly, huh?”

  “Open and forthcoming.”

  “See?” Her eyes lit. “No secrets. No trickery. No hidden agenda.”

  Oh, she wouldn’t say that. Desi stared at Jo, an iron band tightening around her chest. For Karen’s sake, for Max’s, please don’t be apart of Sanctuary. “The representative told me about the Holy City.”

  “Oh, wow!” Jo leaped up. “You know about that? Isn’t it excitin’?”

  Desi closed her eyes against a stab of sorrow.

  “See, it’s right here.”

  Desi looked up to find Jo standing beside her with an open book in her hands. Not just a book … a Bible. Jo stuck the pages under her face and pointed to a passage in Revelation.

  “ ‘I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem,’ “ she read, “ ‘comin’ down out of heaven from God.’ I can hardly wait. Reverend Romlin taught a whole month on this passage. Don’t you want to be worthy to live there?”

  Desi took the Bible and laid it on the table. “I’m not worthy on my own, but I’ve been made worthy through Jesus Christ.”

  “Exactly. The body and blood. The more often you partake, the closer you get to qualifyin’ for the kingdom.”

  “Partake?” Desi held her breath.

  “Sure. Roasted lamb and red wine. They represent the death of the physical body and the shedding of natural blood so that we might rise above the flesh into the new life of the spirit. I take the elements every day during mornin’ meditations.” Jo blinked at her. “No way! You didn’t think we ate raw meat and drank real blood, did you?”

  Desi breathed again. “Of course not.” She studied the woman’s face. Pure innocence. Wholehearted faith. Half a bubble off from finding the real thing.

  Jo crossed her arms. “You have strange ideas about what we believe. How can you be sure we’re wrong?”

  “My belief about the body and blood isn’t about me. It’s about Jesus.”

  “Sure. The Lamb.” She settled onto her stool.

  “God Himself who walked among us as a man.”

  Jo’s face scrunched up. “That’s bonkers, God couldn’t be a man. He’s … well, God. And the best we can do is follow the Lamb’s teachings and hope that we’re good enough in the end.”

  “It’ll never happen.” Desi shook her head. “There is no cosmic scale out there weighing our good deeds against our bad deeds. To a holy God, any evil act, or even an evil thought, merits death. The only way to escape justice is for someone without sin to take the punishment in our place. God couldn’t find a qualified human being, so He did it Himself.”

  Jo stared at her like a dog at a new dish, as Max would say.

  Desi plunged on. “Jesus’ broken body and His shed blood paid for all the ways I fall short of what I should be. When I take the Communion elements, I’m reminded that without Him I’m nothing but flesh waiting to die, but with Him I’m a redeemed spirit waiting only for my flesh to be reborn.”

  Tension melted from Jo’s face. “The healing thing. Reverend Romlin’s started to teach about that. Different kinds of mutton and wine as a focus of faith for different kinds of ailments. The most effective for just about anything is meat from a newborn lamb and deep burgundy wine. The next best is … Well, here’s a brochure.” She grabbed a glossy leaflet from a counter and handed it to Desi. “We’ve got lots of testimonies about the faithful getting healed of all kinds of diseases after the sacrament.”

  Desi took the flier, glanced at the familiar picture of Jesus on the cover, and tucked it into her pants pocket. She touched the smooth tiles on the table. Now where to go with this conversation? Plain speaking hadn’t made a dent. She picked up a chipped square and put it in the mosaic. “How’s that? It’s the right color.”

  Jo tossed the chip into a waste bin. “Doesn’t fit. It’s a discard anyway.”

  “How about this one.” Desi took a tile from a tub. “It’s the perfect shape and size.”

  “The color is off a shade. Duh!”

  “You’re a creator.” Desi stared into Jo’s eyes. “When you start a project, you have a design in mind, and you won’t take anything less than perfection in each piece. God’s the original Creator, and His plan of salvation is perfect. It’s not obscure or difficult. In fact, it’s downright simple, but it is precise. A deviation in any of the essentials and the whole thing becomes a discard.”

  Jo chuckled. “There was a message in there someplace. Let me think about it, okay?”

  “For sure. Any questions you want to ask, Max or I are available.”

  “It’s Karen I care about. Did you learn anything that might help us find her?”

  Desi leaned a hip against the table. “The person at the ministry office had met Karen, but hadn’t seen or heard from her since before her disappearance.”

  “I told you they had nothin’ to do with that, though the mother part of me wishes they knew something. It’s Snake Bonney. Get him to tell the truth, and you’ll find Karen. Did you talk to him?”

  “My dance card was a bit full today.”

  Jo bit her lip. “Sorry I’m impatient. No one believes me about that freak show, Bonney. Maybe I should go with you. Maybe … ” She shook her head. “The jerk would clam up as soon as he saw mean, mad Mama comin’, but as long as a pretty young thing smiles at him, he’ll jabber like a monkey. Approach him in the mornin’ at home. He’ll be hungover and movin’ slow and none of his gang nearby.”

  “Very comforting.”

  Jo laughed. “You’ll handle yourself. Competent seems to be your middle name.”

  “At least someone has confidence in me.” Desi scratched the back of her head. “Though I’m not sure how much I have in myself in a confrontation with a motorcycle outlaw”

  “He’s got no chops without his pack.”

  “Hellooo! Anybody back here?”

  Ortiz’s voice sent Jo to the door. “Come on in. We were chatting about art and stuff.”

  The agent stepped inside. “No sign of Pete?”

  “I’d be the last person he’d contact if he was in trouble.”

  “No if about it.”

  Jo put her hands on her hips. “You’d better be here to tell me the results of the DNA testing on the blood in my driveway.”

  The agent shook her head. “Results aren’t back yet. The blood type was O positive, though, same as at the museum, and the same as your daughter’s. But O positive is the most common blood type, so that doesn’t mean much.”

  Jo flushed. “You’re telling me Karen’s still a suspect because you people can’t get a move on the testing?”

  Desi touched Jo’s arm. “Tony says DNA results take at least a couple of weeks, and that’s lightning speed.”

  Ortiz lasered Desi with her gaze. “You’ve been in touch with Lucano recently?”

  “Yes, and I suggest you call him right away.”

  The agent blinked and shifted. “I see.”

  “He’ll be here tomorrow, and then I’d like to meet with both of you.”

  “Lucano’s coming to Albuquerque?”

  Desi sent her a tight smile. “He has important things on his mind.”

  “Would someone tell me what’s goin’ on?” Jo glared from one to the other. “I’m not brain-dead. What you’re not sayin’ is . howlin’ louder than the words.” She narrowed her eyes at Desi. “You know things you haven’t told me.”

  Desi looked away. “Can’t tell you.”

  “Won’t is what you mean.” Jo slammed her fist on the table. Tiles clattered to the floor. “I have a right to know anything that affects my daughter. I can’t stand this limbo. Max said I could trust you. What a lie!”

  Ortiz stepped forward. “Mrs. Cheama, please calm down—”

  “Don’t patronize me!”
Jo whirled on the agent. “You’re no better.” She spat a curse. “Usin’ my home as a trap for my ex-husband. Tryin’ to find Karen so you can put her in jail.” She yanked the studio door open. “You’re not welcome here, either of you. Get out!”

  Sick at heart, Desi stepped into the dusk, Ortiz after her. The door slammed on the sound of weeping. What could she have done differently?

  The agent said a disgusted word. “Volatile woman. Never know whether to expect cooperation or a cussing out.”

  “Jo flies off, but she’ll cool down fast.” Desi headed for the house.

  Ortiz matched her pace. “So you’re not out on your rump?”

  “It’s time for me to be away from her watchful eye. I’ll find a hotel.”

  They went into the house, and Desi stepped into the bedroom to pack. The agent hovered in the doorway. “What brought you to the office under a full head of steam?”

  “I dumped a load on Tony. You and he have a lot to talk about.”

  Ortiz pursed her lips. “Jo’s right. You’re holding back. Not a good idea with dangerous people out there.”

  “Do agents take a class on terrorizing witnesses about what bad guys might do to them? I call that belaboring the obvious.” She went into the bathroom and tossed personal items into her kit.

  “Are you this prickly with your boyfriend? We can help, you know.”

  Desi put her kit into her bag. “All right. You want to know my theory?” She sat down beside her suitcase. “Did you listen to the museum recording about the things that were stolen?” “I gave it a quick run-through.”

  “And it didn’t alarm you? Didn’t we agree that if we found out what they wanted the items for we’d know who took them?”

  The agent laughed. “You mean that bit about human sacrifice and ritual cannibalism? Makes good tourist copy.”

  “There’s nothing to it?”

  Ortiz shrugged. “The so-called experts wrangle about it, but the idea’s speculative at best. No application to today’s Pueblos.”

  “Not the Indians.” She waved a hand. “Inner Witness.”

  The agent stared at her. “I shouldn’t be telling you, but we’ve got our eye on this bunch and not a whiff of something like that. White-collar fraud is more up their alley.”