Anacacho, An Allie Armington Mystery (31 page)

I manage a strangled, “Great.”

When the racket of the helicopter fades in
the distance he pats my shoulder. “Guess they checked out the
lean-to and didn’t find anything. I’m getting the horse out of
here. He’ll be safe tethered in the scrub oaks for tonight.”

I choose a spot near the entrance of the
cave and relax—relieved to be safe. I don’t even feel the pain from
the crimson scratches above my waist where my shirt pulled away
from my jeans.

When Bill returns, he gathers me to him and
softly kisses my temple.

I savor the feel of his arms for just a
second, then murmur, “What happens next?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Then his
voice floats above me. “Tomorrow morning is Sunday, and I can
guarantee you that Lawyer Gibbs will be spending most of the
morning on his knees.”

“
How can you be so
sure?”

He chuckles. “In spite of Gibbs’s
protestations of innocence, the DEA has been following his
movements for the last several months. To let you know just how
thorough we’ve been, we have his bathroom schedule down to the
minute.”

“
So, every Sunday
morning?”

“
A short stroll around the
block upon rising.” He plants another kiss on my temple. “A long
shower followed by a nice hearty breakfast with Elvira. Then off to
Unity Methodist Church, where, as Senior Warden, he’ll greet the
nine-thirty and eleven o’clock parishioners and run the noon
bring-your-own buffet in the parish hall. The effing
sonovabitch.”

“
I trusted that man. How
could I have been so stupid?”

“
Don’t be so hard on
yourself. We’ve been raised to believe guys who have snow-white
hair have to be good.”

“
How much longer do you
think it will be?”

“
Before we bring them
down? I don’t know. We don’t have a connection between Gibbs and
Ramón—yet. Not much point in tagging Gibbs without
that.”

I cuddle against him. “It really doesn’t
matter what happens to them—just as long as we’re together.”

He stiffens. “Hold on a minute. We need to
regroup.”

“
Later.” I circle his
neck, pull him to me for another searching kiss and feel his
responses quicken.

The passion grows between us until he
whispers, “Don’t get me wrong, Allie, I want you so bad I can taste
it, but not now.”

“
Why not now?”

“
I’m deep in the middle of
this mess.” “It doesn’t matter.”

“
I’m operating as a double
agent.” “It doesn’t matter.”

“
But it does. If I’m
caught by the wrong people, I could be convicted and end up in
prison.”

“
But you’re
DEA.”

“
They ‘lose’ double agents
all the time. They tell you that right up front. It’s part of the
job risk. Oh, God, I didn’t count on meeting you.”

“
But you did.” I clutch
him to me with all the strength I have. “And I don’t give a damn
what happens.”

“
But I do.” He unlocks my
grip. “I’ve never owned a home. Never owned a car. Dammit. Don’t
you know how I feel? Knowing I can’t offer you
anything?”

I want to cover my ears. Shut out his
dismissal. “Don’t say that. I know you feel the same way I do.”

“
Yes.” He pulls me close.
“But I don’t know how long this will take. Or even if I’ll make
it.”

Hours later I open my eyes. The moon is high
in the sky, and I’m cradled in Bill’s arms.

I stir and he kisses my forehead. “Sleep
now. You’re safe.”

MORNING FINDS ME CURLED on my side—alone. The ache
in my joints feels like I’m a hundred. I must look at least that
old. To make matters worse, my hair is a mess and I hate that.

When I hear footsteps, I smile to myself.
“It’s about time.”

I roll to look into a gun barrel pointed
directly at me.

A metallic taste invades my mouth. I blink
my eyes to clear my vision, but there’s no mistake, Bill Cotton is
on the other end.

“
Good job, Bill. This is
one petty annoyance I’m delighted to attend
to—personally.”

Gibbs steps into view wearing boots, jeans,
and a pale-yellow short-sleeve shirt. Hardly church-wear. “Good
morning, Miss Armington.”

He waves at someone to the side. “Do come
see what our boy Bill caught.”

Luke Hansen sidles forward and doffs his
Stetson. “Now, ain’t this a nice surprise?”

I turn away from the man who vowed to kill
me. Bill’s face offers nothing but cool appraisal.

My brain must be dead. I can’t seem to put
together the most basic thoughts. Worse still, there’s not a hint
of the adrenalin surge I need for action.

I seek Bill’s face again, hoping for a wink,
a knowing look, something.

He looks at the two men and smiles. “It’s
about time. What took you so long?”

“
Luke was late—as
usual.”

“
I had hell getting the
fucking four-wheel in gear,” he whines. “That fucking piece of junk
has had it.”

Luke’s last words are drowned by approaching
hoof beats.

Gibbs draws his weapon and steps out of the
cave entrance. “Expecting company, Bill?”

“
Hardly.”

When Gibbs disappears, Luke pulls an
automatic from his belt and crouches facing outward just inside the
cave entrance.

A shot is fired, then several more. Luke
yells, “Cover me,” and inches forward.

Bill shoves the rifle in my hand and draws
his weapon as Gibbs staggers into view, three scarlet blossoms on
his shirt. He utters a plaintive, “Jesus,” then collapses against
Luke.

Bill crouches to better his aim. “Drop
it.”

“
I fuckin’-A don’t think
so, you bastard.” Luke rolls away from beneath Gibbs’s limp body,
weapon aimed at Bill.

Bill rises, then steps forward—too late.
Luke fires and he spins to the ground.

Luke turns in my direction, sees the shotgun
I have pointed at him, and grins. “You won’t shoot. You ain’t got
the guts. You’re nothing but a weak-ass pussy.”

I don’t think he got to the end of “pussy”
when the shot peppered a wide hole in his throat. At least the
surprise on his face before he lunged forward and hit the ground
seemed real.

I crawl the few feet to Bill. “Are you all
right?”

He nods. “It’s the shoulder.” He pulls his
hand away to reveal a gaping hole throbbing a rivulet of blood.

I take off my jean jacket and fold it. “It’s
not the most sanitary piece of goods, but it should stanch the
bleeding until we can get you to town.”

Jed, followed by several uniforms, appears
in the opening. “Allie? Bill? Are you all right?”

I start to answer, but he looks past me and
says, “Hey, Chief, I brought the white hats like you requested.
Sorry, we were late.”

HOUSTON IS EXPERIENCING one of its dazzling fall
days. The cloudless sky is that wonderful Colorado blue, signaling
crisp mornings and bright afternoons.

Appropriately, this glorious day marks a
major milestone in my life. I am now full partner of Perkins,
Travis, Attorneys-at-Law, with all the attendant benefits including
a corner office with my name on the door. Sadly, my personal life
is still stuck in limbo, but much of what happened last April has
faded from stark horror to an occasional nightmare.

I don’t know how Duncan found out I was
back, but I have to admit, the smile on his face and his
enthusiastic hug were more than welcome. Over wine, I gave him the
gory details of my abduction. He refrained from the usual
“I-told-you-sos,” then delivered a piece of interesting news. He
was leaving the DA to open his own practice in criminal defense.
After a few toasts, he invited me upstairs for dinner the following
evening. I said no.

That “no” must have sounded pretty final
because, since then, we’ve been nothing more than friendly
neighbors, often meeting in the laundry, where we exchange small
talk and discuss our latest cases.

To my surprise, Perkins, Travis was pretty
understanding about my absence even though I couldn’t tell them
much more than I was abducted by an old flame. I waited for them to
grill me. After all, the story, or what little I could tell them
was too weird. Instead, they proposed I take a week vacation in
Cozumel at their expense.

I took it. Lolled on the beach. Slept for
hours on end and tried to figure out why Bill Cotton hadn’t
contacted me since he put me on the plane in San Antonio.

It’s past seven by the time I arrive at the
mid-rise on Bammel and enter the lobby.

Elton the doorman, who also handles the
reception desk, waves me over. “Package for you, Miss
Armington.”

He disappears below the counter, then comes
up holding a small, flat box wrapped in plain brown paper. “Is it
your birthday?”

“
Not today.” I take the
box, which is not very heavy, and jiggle. There’s a succession of
soft clicks as its contents slide back and forth.

He leans toward me, face filled with
anticipation. “Sounds interesting.”

I give him a rueful smile. “Yes, doesn’t it?
Goodnight.”

Once in my apartment, I lay the box on the
kitchen counter, pour a large glass of water and pop a couple of
aspirin. I rummage through a drawer for a paring knife and
carefully open the paper to reveal a thin, highly polished, dark
mahogany box with slightly rounded edges. A golden clasp holds the
top to the bottom. I turn the box and whatever is inside again
sighs with a series of clicks to rest at the lower end.

I don’t want to open that box. I can’t open
that box. But I do and tears come.

The strand of black pearls is curled to one
side of a note that reads, “If you value Paul’s life, stay away
from the trial.”

Now there’s no doubt the cartel plans to use
Paul as a weapon to prevent me from testifying.

I grab the phone and punch out a number.
After three rings, Duncan’s gruff, “Yeah,” startles me out of my
panic. What’s worse, I didn’t even realize it was his number I
dialed.

“
Oh, Duncan, I’m so sorry
to bother you this late, but I need help. May I come
up?”

Minutes later, a barefooted Duncan wearing a
sweat suit opens his door.

I restrain the urge to throw my arms around
his neck. Instead, I give my most grateful smile. “Thanks.”

He closes the door behind us and points me
toward the couch. “What’s up?”

I show him the pearls and hand him the note.
“These came this evening.”

Duncan reads the note, jumps up and starts
to pace, his left hand gingerly rubbing the back of his head. I
can’t count the number of times I’ve seen him do this when he’s
under stress over a case. This does not make me comfortable.

After a few minutes he sits. “Okay. Okay.
Remember when you told me they let you go and I didn’t buy it?
Remember I said they were too smart for that? Well, I think they
had a plan in mind for you all along.”

When I start to reply, he holds up his hand.
“And there may be two scenarios. First, they’re holding Paul
hostage, hoping you won’t testify.”

“
I can see
that.”

Up goes the hand again. “Or they want you to
testify against Ramón to get him out of the way without implicating
the cartel.” “That’s a little far-fetched, since as far as I can
tell, Ramón is the head of the cartel.”

“
Maybe he is or maybe he
isn’t. I think this is just the first communication. They’ll wait
to see how you react.”

“
What do you
suggest?”

“
Sit tight. Don’t say
anything to anybody. I’ll have your apartment swept. My guess is
you’re bugged so they can monitor you.”

“
But if we remove the bug
won’t that tip them?”

“
Yeah, yeah. Let me think
this through a bit.” He stares away for a few minutes. “Look. Why
don’t you stay up here tonight? I’ll take the couch. Then tomorrow
we can make a plan when our heads are clearer.”

“
Thanks, but no thanks. I
have an early meeting. I really appreciate your help on
this.”

Duncan lets out a long breath and rises.
“Whatever. Just don’t do or say anything incriminating.”

He walks me to the door, opens it, then in a
surprising move turns me toward him and pulls me close. “Dammit,
Allie, why can’t you stay out of trouble?”

His voice is soft, almost a whisper. It’s
obvious he cares. Maybe not like he once did, but his tenderness is
touching.

Instead of my usual bristle, I relax and let
him draw me to him. This feels good.

I’m pretty sure Duncan is just as surprised
as I am and probably wonders whether he should make another
move.

As for me, I’m more than content to enjoy
the warmth of his body against mine.

We stand together for several minutes, not
speaking, not moving. Then I pull away, step into the hall, and
give his hand a final squeeze before I head for the elevator.

The hot shower should have put me under
hours ago but it’s three o’clock in the morning and I’m wide
awake.

It’s one thing to be intimidated,
threatened, and brutalized in another town or country, but the
appearance of those pearls makes it crystal clear that Ramón’s arm
is long and powerful. I shiver, knowing now I’ve been under their
surveillance since my return to Houston.

If that isn’t enough to keep me awake,
there’s the encounter with Duncan. I liked being in his arms. It’s
been six months since Bill and I clung together in that cave. Six
months since I was so sure he was the “one.” It saddens me that I
have trouble remembering his face, though a whiff of that heady
Kryptonite aftershave makes me yearn for what I’m finally beginning
to realize can never be.