Betrayed (28 page)

No wonder Joe prefers to bunk here
.

The search was carried out as carefully and professionally as Vicki could hope, books and dishes lifted from shelves, furniture patted down. She wandered over to the office, keeping a vigilant eye on the handling of delicate computer and radio equipment. The latter was set up on a long table shoved under a window whose shutters the guards had flung open to offer a view of the veranda and coffee fields beyond. The back and left walls held bookshelves. But only the one straight ahead was full, the left one holding a scattering of Mayan pottery, perhaps because heat from the fireplace would be right behind that wall.

Sensing the warmth of another person behind her, Vicki glanced over her shoulder. Joe too was watching.

But any concern proved unnecessary. For this base commander’s friend, the search was quick and almost perfunctory. Then Colonel Alpiro excused himself.

Michael lingered. “I apologize, Taylor, for the inconvenience. I trust you understand.”

“Of course. If there’s anything we can do to find Holly’s killer, you have only to ask.”

“Well, I’m not sure how much more we can do here. At most, we’ve eliminated possibilities. What we will do is increase patrols on the biosphere. At the least we can make sure there’re no more incidents like yesterday’s.”

Joe transferred himself to his usual lounging sprawl in one of the cowhide chairs. It wouldn’t hurt him to make a gracious response to Michael’s apologetic smile, but he only lifted an eyebrow.

Vicki compensated for his boorishness with a warmer smile than she’d planned.

She was rewarded by the appreciative glint in Michael’s eyes. “May I run you home, Vicki?”

She shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. It’s a short walk. I know Alpiro is in a hurry to get back to base.”

 “Then I’ll catch you later. I have to fly back to the city this afternoon. Tom Casey—you saw him at the airport—is back in town, and I’ve got a report to make. I’ll be popping back this way in a couple days. By then I should be able to fill you in on the search and interviews we’re running down there. Unless you’ll already be back in town. Then maybe dinner?”

Vicki dropped long lashes over her amber eyes, cheeks burning at the warmth of Michael’s smile, the sudden derisive twist of Joe’s mouth. The embassy attaché was definitely the kind of guy consular aides or expat volunteers might find attractive. Not just the good looks and lean, muscular frame, but the cool confidence, discipline and self-control. He was a leader who knew his own mind and was committed to making a difference in his society. Vicki liked that.

But at the moment she had more compelling interests occupying her mind. “I won’t be back in town,” Vicki said quietly, “but I’d appreciate an update when you’re back this way.”

Silence reigned for two heartbeats after the door closed behind Michael.

“Tom Casey. That’s our new American drug czar,” Joe repeated ironically. “And Michael boy has to run to make his report. Just who did you say this Camdon fellow is?”

His question was directed at Bill, but it was Vicki who answered shortly, “He’s an attaché with the embassy. The DAO’s office.”

“Yeah, right, that’s what they all say.” Joe snorted.

Vicki looked from one man to the other. “What do you mean?”

Joe just shrugged.

Vicki was not in the mood for any more of Joe’s cryptic insinuations. She glanced over at Bill, but he was looking at his employee, white eyebrows raised. “Come on, Joe. What do you mean? I know there was some nasty dig in there somewhere. What do you have against Michael, anyway?”

Bill said resignedly, “You might as well spit it out, Ericsson. She’s not going to let it go.”

Joe’s gaze shifted from Vicki to a spot behind her. “I’m not slamming your pal. But growing up around all those embassies taught me one thing. Extraneous attachés—especially hotshot ones running around with the locals and holding meetings with VIPS—are usually code for CIA.”

“What?”

“Ignore him—and his conspiracy theories,” Bill advised Vicki. “Ericsson’s unfortunate upbringing hardly qualifies him as expert testimony. In my opinion, Camden seems like a decent young fellow. Hardworking. Steady job. Safe. You could sure do worse. It’s not like there’s a lot of pickings up here, and Camden seems eager to make you welcome. If I were you, I’d take him up on that dinner offer before some embassy secretary grabs him.”

“Oh, really. If that’s another hint to give up this investigation, it won’t work.” Vicki met Joe’s sardonic look with a caustic one of her own before adding sweetly, “And what about Joe here? Isn’t he a decent young fellow? Hardworking? Steady job? Safe?”

Bill stared at her. “Ericsson is hardly a safe person for anyone to know. And if I had a daughter, I couldn’t give her better advice than I’m giving you now. As I should have given Holly. Stay as far away from this man as possible."

Joe was on his feet with an abruptness that belied his indolent slouch. A moment later the back door slammed.

Chapter Twenty-One

 “Bill, I can’t believe you said that,” Vicki said. “I think you hurt his feelings. He thinks you meant it.”

 “I always mean what I say.”

There was little to be said to that. Vicki started for the front door. She turned back in the doorway. “Bill, there’s one other thing I don’t understand. You told Colonel Alpiro that Holly had said nothing to you about what was bothering her. But Holly thought the world of you. You worked with her. If she talked to anyone, I’d have thought it would be you.”

Bill sagged as though she’d struck him, and he looked his true age. “Yes, I thought so too. That she didn’t has troubled me more than anything else.”

Vicki headed back to the center. Incredibly, when she emerged from the coffee fields into the center cul-de-sac, the scene was as peaceful as though the morning’s invasion had never happened. Volunteers gathered for lunch in the communal thatched shelter. The tame spider monkey perched on Johanna’s shoulders. A tranquil twittering and chatter from the cages. Even the two little girls industriously eating plates of pasta at the farthest table.

Which didn’t mean Vicki’s part in the morning was forgiven. An angry rumble rose as she stepped into the shelter.
How am I going to work with them a whole week?
Vicki did the only thing she could think of. She threw herself on their mercy. By the time she’d finished explaining, angry mutters had shifted to sympathy.

“The young woman who met us at the airport was your sister?”

“Yes, we heard she’d been murdered.”

“But of course you’re trying to find out what happened!”

Bemused, Vicki watched as they scattered to their chores.
Why didn’t I just tell them from the beginning? Because I’ve always got to stand alone. And I can’t stand pity
.

By evening, when the German volunteers coaxed Vicki to join them in
Pozo Azul
, she was part of the team. Though that proved the only benefit of the UPN investigation.

Michael dropped by two days later. “The UPN helo flew me straight here from seeing Tom Casey off again.” He looked around. “Wow, this really is beautiful. A little quieter than last time."

“Yeah, well, it does make a difference when it’s not swarming with soldiers. How about a tour?” Vicki excused herself from Cesar and the German vet student for whom she’d been translating. Cesar didn’t lift his gaze from the clipboard as he nodded. Vicki sighed. The Guatemalan veterinarian had withdrawn completely since the UPN invasion. So much for gaining his cooperation in her quest.

“So how did your report go?” Vicki asked as she led Michael toward the animal enclosure.

“Well enough. Casey seems to be impressed with our program. UPN was able to search and destroy two opium plantings within protected habitat while he was here. In fact, he rode along on the last one. Now to see if he’s impressed enough to talk Congress into shelling out a bigger appropriation.” Michael’s face went rigid.  “Just a minute. Isn’t that . . . ?”

Vicki’s hand rose to the object of his incredulous gaze. She’d started wearing Holly’s pendant since her arrival, if only because it was too valuable to leave lying around unlocked. But it was usually tucked under her shirt. The spider monkey she’d been cuddling earlier must have tugged it loose. “Yes, it is. I guess I never mentioned it turned up.”

After she explained, Michael shook his head. “If that isn’t the mother of all coincidences. Unless it really did just slide loose while they were carrying her out of the dump.” He lifted the pendant for closer scrutiny. “Is there anything else you’re forgetting to tell me? It really is important that I stay informed, no matter how small a detail you may consider it. If anything like this comes up again, contact me immediately. Now, about the searches in Guatemala City . . .”

Michael updated Vicki as they walked. “They’ve searched everywhere. Interviewed every person to ever talk to Holly. It’s been a great training exercise for the unit, the only reason Alpiro’s been willing to take it this far. But bottom line, we’re exactly where we were before UPN got involved. Whatever happened to that PDA—stolen, destroyed, or just fell out like that necklace and burned up in the dump—I think we’ve at least established it’s not going to show at this date.”

His gaze roved constantly, taking in every detail.

When they stopped under the water tower, Vicki laughed. “Is this a tour we’re doing here? Or another police search?”

Michael’s grin was sheepish. “Sorry. I was just hoping I might see something we missed.” Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to say I’ve no idea where to go next. Even by stateside standards, we’ve turned over every rock we can find. Unless a new rock turns up, I can’t ask too much more of Alpiro.”

“Well, at least you tried.” Vicki’s sigh matched his own. “That’s all I ever asked.”

However disappointing, it was hard to remain depressed when Vicki stepped outside every morning to the sweet, moist fragrance of the cloud forest, a dawn orchestra of caws and squeaks and the bass thunder of water, a luxuriant tangle of ferns and leaves and vines color accented with orchids and flowering trees. Whether or not she’d indeed been in these mountains as a child, her surroundings had very quickly become familiar and pleasant. And, oh, so peaceful.

With the cloud forest spreading its green canopy overhead, the center might have been in a bubble or alternate universe from the world of problems Vicki had left outside. The animals too were becoming individual. Vicki could now tell the monkeys apart by more than size. The half-grown tapir followed her around its enclosure like a puppy. The baby coatimundi rode around the center on Vicki’s shoulder, prehensile tail wrapped around her arm.

It wasn’t that Vicki had forgotten why she was here. But she’d done all she could do for now. The animals were cute and needy, but they didn’t rend the heart as the
basurero
children had. As days slipped by with no greater decisions than chore distribution, Vicki felt herself unwinding and simply relishing the present. Splashing in
Pozo Azul
. Playing with the animals. Laughing with one of her new friends.

Maybe I’ll just stay here forever
.

Though in time the tranquil confinement seemed cramped. Especially with the map on the hall bulletin board showing the center as just a dot on the edge of the steep, majestic sweep of the Sierra de las Minas Biosphere.

I want to see the country Joe and I flew over. At least some of it
.

Vicki hadn’t forgotten the box under her bed. She’d thought it would be a simple matter to trace on the ground some of the wilderness she’d flown over. She hadn’t figured on lack of transportation. Or restrictions on exploring the biosphere itself.

An opportunity came as the Germans completed their volunteer stint. The cat run was finished, a long mesh enclosure that allowed pumas, ocelots, and other felines to stretch their legs to a lope. To celebrate, an outing was scheduled to follow the biosphere’s only nature trail. It veered off the main road at the last military checkpoint on the village outskirts, winding up into the mountain range that rose behind the plateau. A main track when villages still dotted the biosphere, it was overgrown now, threading the cloud forest like a cool, green tunnel, but it offered some spectacular panoramas where it emerged to overlook mountain valleys.

It would have been a pleasurable experience if two Jeeps of UPN troops hadn’t tagged along, neatly sandwiching the group’s pickup between them. For protection, the patrol leader had assured them. The Germans seemed pleased enough.

But back at the center as the volunteers packed up to catch a tour bus into Guatemala City, Vicki protested to Cesar. “Isn’t there any way to get up into the biosphere ourselves? I understand UPN needs to patrol the place and keep poachers and developers out. But we
are
the Ministry of Environment here. I mean, I’m not officially. But you are. Shouldn’t the center be in there studying the biosphere?”

A rare smile lit Cesar’s face as he slid a bowl of fruit and lettuce into a cage. “You sound like your sister. She always wanted to go into the mountains on her own. To see the animals in their own homes. To walk where no one else had been.”

“She did?” Vicki’s hand went out so suddenly she knocked the next bowl from Cesar’s tray. Retrieving chunks of orange and banana, she demanded eagerly, “Do you know where she walked? Could you take me there? Please. I have a reason.”

Cesar’s expression shuttered. “That is not advisable. It is not safe.”

“But if Holly did it . . .”

“And Señorita Ho-lee is dead.”

But she didn’t die here
. It was no use. You couldn’t argue with someone who just slid away into their own thoughts and refused to talk. In any event, in the following days, there was little extra time between feeding animals and cleaning cages. These tasks being beneath the two camp administrators, Vicki deduced sourly.

Though Cesar and Vicki weren’t left with all the work. Bill made an appearance every day, and Joe was over for longer periods. His powerful build hadn’t come from lounging around, Vicki had to admit. He worked hard and steadily, building a fresh fence when the tapir pushed his flat, digging up the water piping and replacing it with new, and tinkering the generator back to health when it refused to start.

Bill always paused to chat with Vicki after checking in with the center office. But Joe didn’t approach her.

One day, having exhausted the center library’s meager English selections, Vicki trekked through the woods to Bill’s property. The curly-haired guard was at the gate, another walking the fence line. She didn’t bother alerting them to her presence but slipped through the coffee rows. Reaching the back veranda, she tapped on the door into the kitchen. When she heard no response, she opened the door.

Back Stateside, she’d have walked away. But expat hospitality went by different rules, and she’d been given an open invitation. She’d go in, borrow a few books, and leave a note for Bill.

Stepping inside, she called, “Hello!”

Silence.

No longer hesitating, Vicki entered the living area. The remnants of a small fire smoldered in the fireplace. She walked over to the nearest bookshelf. She was perusing a mildewed Reader’s Digest Condensed collection when she heard a sound. At first she thought it was the snapping of kindling in the fireplace. Then she heard a soft scraping coming from the office.

So the house wasn’t empty.