After she tipped the driver, she made sure her cell phone was in her pocket then tucked her purse into her bright pink travel bag. She still couldn’t believe she’d run off without her clarinet and laptop. She’d been so upset that she hadn’t been thinking clearly when the shuttle arrived to pick her up.
She bent to pick up her bag, and her crop top and low-rise jeans revealed her tanned belly and back even more than they already did. Gregory had always hated her revealing any flesh, including the tattoo on her lower back, just above her waistband. He hadn’t liked the idea of other men looking at her nor did he approve of tattoos on women. The tat was the word,
Klarinette
, the German spelling of her chosen instrument that had been “invented” in Germany around 1701-1704.
Screw Gregory.
She slung the bag over her shoulder. She’d wear whatever she damn well pleased.
The heavy bag’s long strap dug into her shoulder as she looked around. The day was waning and the traffic was light as usual. She walked up to the old post office, crossed Main Street, then headed back around an old bank building that was now an antique shop.
She turned onto Subway Street, which was a quiet one-way street, and then up Shearer Avenue, a steep street that took her near what had once been an old YMCA but had been converted into tourist suites. She continued to climb the paved road on the hillside, past the old Central School, which was now a center for the arts. On the east side, deeper in the canyon, was Brewery Gulch.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she stopped to pull it out. A number she didn’t recognize was on the display and she wondered who it might be.
She brought it to her ear and answered, “Hello?”
“Where are you?” Gregory’s demanding voice was like a punch to her chest. “Why haven’t you been answering my calls?”
“I have nothing to say to you.” She straightened and set her bag on the ground. “We are through.”
“The hell we are.” The way he spoke was as if he hammered every word. “Get your ass home.”
Tori gripped the phone tightly. “I’ll come back for my things when I’m ready, but we are done.”
Before he could say another word, she disconnected the call and jammed the phone back into her pocket and trudged up the hill toward the point where Shearer turned into Clawson Avenue. The phone vibrated again but she ignored it.
Near the north side of the arts center, Tori took a shortcut. Once she was farther up the hill, she rounded a vehicle. To her right was a black SUV and an old white Toyota parked in an alleyway. They were in the growing shadows, out of sight by anyone but someone walking by, like her, which wasn’t often in this area.
Two men—a man with white-blond hair and Slavic features, and a dark-haired guy with a pencil thin mustache who looked to be of Hispanic descent—faced a third man. The third man had his back to the white Toyota. He was more slender than the other two but she couldn’t see his face.
Tori started to turn her gaze in the direction she’d been headed when the men’s voices drew her attention again. She looked to see a fourth man, this one wearing a tailored charcoal gray suit, step out of the back of the SUV. He was an attractive man with finely carved features and an athletic build.
Something glinted in the fading sunlight and Tori froze. Her heart thudded when she saw that the man in the suit was pointing a gun at the lone man who stood with his back to the Toyota.
“Death is more than you deserve, Mateo.” The suited man’s Hispanic accent was heavy and cultured. “But your death will send a message.”
Tori watched in horror as the speaker aimed his handgun at Mateo’s chest. It had a long barrel, like one of those guns with silencers she’d seen on TV.
Mateo didn’t flinch and he raised his chin. “Your family’s reign of terror will end, El Puño.”
The man in the suit gave Mateo an appraising look and a smile curved the corner of his mouth. “A dead man’s desperate attempt to make his life end with meaning. Pathetic.” The man gestured to the ground. “On your knees.”
When Mateo didn’t move, the other two men grabbed him by the arms and forced him to his knees, facing away from the suited man, his hands cuffed behind him.
Tori’s eyes widened as she stared in horror, unable to comprehend what was happening.
The suited man moved closer and put the barrel of his gun to the back of Mateo’s head.
A spitting sound, and blood and brain matter sprayed over the white car as Mateo dropped. He collapsed on his side, and in her shock Tori saw that his face had been blown off.
Tori screamed before she could stop herself. The remaining three men turned and spotted her. The man in the suit raised his gun and pointed it at her.
She dropped her bag and ran.
Terror ripped through her. Adrenaline pumped in her veins, jacking up her pulse and blood pounded in her ears.
Oh God, oh God, oh God!
She had to run up higher on the hillside as the men had the way down blocked off.
“Get her!” the man in the suit shouted. “Kill the bitch!”
A bullet pierced a stop sign as she passed it, the bullet making a pinging sound as it tore through metal.
Tori ran faster. Her heart beat harder and she thought it might explode from fear. She couldn’t think, she could only react.
Sounds of heavy footfalls grew closer behind her and she doubled her speed. She could outrun these men. She
had
to outrun them.
She glanced over her shoulder and her fear spiked. They were closer than she’d realized and they each held guns, aimed at her.
Another scream tore from her and she increased her speed. Even though she ran on a daily basis, she was no longer used to the high altitude or the steepness of the streets.
She threw another look over her shoulder and saw that the men were closing in on her. One of them stopped and aimed his weapon. She zigged and zagged, hoping that would keep the men from hitting her. She passed a stone wall beneath a house on the hillside, and small pieces of rock exploded beside her.
The sting of the rocks striking her face and arms only made her fight harder to keep running. She prayed for someone to come out to help her but then prayed no one would so they wouldn’t be shot. These men would kill any witnesses, of that she was certain. She had to outlast them, had to find a place to hide. She thought about the old high school. Could she find a place around it where she wouldn’t be found?
The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, and she didn’t know how much farther she could make it. This time when she looked over her shoulder she saw that she was farther ahead of the men.
Her heart pounded, her face flushed, sweat coating her body. Her breathing became more labored and her muscles screamed as she ran higher and higher yet.
She rounded another corner and then an SUV. Just as she ran around the vehicle, rough hands grabbed her, jerking her out of the street. She started to scream when a hand clamped over her mouth.
Panic sent more adrenaline surging through her and she tried to struggle and get away from the strong arm clamped around her. She kicked, her heel connecting with a shin, and heard the man swear.
“I’m trying to help you.” The man’s voice was low. “Come on.”
She stopped fighting and he released her. She whirled to face a big man with a hard look on his scarred features. He grabbed her hand. Instinct told her he was one of the good guys, and she ran with him up a short flight of stairs that led to a small house surrounded by tall shrubs. They ducked inside a side door and he shut it behind them quickly but without allowing it to close hard enough to make a sound.
Her chest rose and fell as she tried to catch her breath, her whole body hot, sweat dripping down the small of her back. Her heart felt like it was going to explode from fear and the run up the hills. The man peeked through the gap in the white curtains covering the rectangle of glass in the side door.
It was then that she noticed the gun.
A cry of fear escaped her as she stumbled in the small kitchen. She backed away from the man who gripped the weapon in his right hand as he peered through the slit in the curtains. Her hip hit a kitchen chair and it screeched over the linoleum. She swung her gaze around her, as if she might find some kind of weapon.
He looked over his shoulder and must have recognized the terror in her eyes as she stared at his gun.
“I’m a federal agent.” He pulled his overshirt aside and she felt a rush of relief when she saw a gold badge on his belt. He turned back to the window. “You can tell me what the hell is going on once I make sure these bastards are long gone.”
“Watch your tongue, Landon Michael Walker,” came a voice from behind Tori.
Tori gave a startled yelp as she spun to face a woman who looked as if she was a hundred years old and under five feet tall. It was easy to see that she’d been a little taller before age and gravity had taken away a few inches and had caused her back and shoulders to stoop.
“Sorry, Grandma Teresa,” Landon said and Tori cut her gaze back to him. He was still looking out the window. And she was still shaking.
“Who are you?” Grandma Teresa asked, her tone blunt.
The woman had a strong accent. Polish, Tori thought. She’d had a Polish professor during her undergrad years.
“I’m Tori.” She swallowed. “Tori Cox.”
“You in some kind of trouble?” the elderly woman asked.
“I—I saw something.” Tori’s entire body was trembling. “I—” She put her fist in her mouth and bit down as she tried to calm down.
“No sign of the men who were chasing you.” Landon turned away from the window. “I think you’re safe. What did you see?”
Tori couldn’t think straight, almost couldn’t comprehend the man’s question.
“What did you see?” he repeated. “It’s important you tell me now.”
She lowered her hand. Her voice shook as she spoke and she had a hard time getting the words out. “I saw them kill a man.”
Landon’s expression hardened. “Are you sure?”
“I can’t believe it.” She brought her shaking hand to her neck. “They shot him. Oh, my God. They shot him.”
“I need you to focus.” Landon holstered his weapon and grasped her firmly by her shoulders. “Tell me what happened.”
“I—I” Her throat worked. “It was shadowed, getting dark in the alleyway. But I saw them. I wasn’t that far from where the men were standing. I saw them.”
He kept his gaze locked with hers. “Where?”
Her whole body started shaking even harder as all that happened hit her more violently. “An alleyway.” She tried to focus on her words. “North of the arts center, on the way up School Hill.”
He released her and pulled a cell phone out of a holster on his belt. He punched in a number. She rubbed her arms with her hands, feeling goose bumps beneath her palms. She bit her lower lip as she listened while he reported the possible homicide to the Bisbee Police Department.
When he re-holstered his phone, his eyes were a darker green
.
“Tell me everything you saw and heard.”
“For Heaven’s sake, let the girl sit and catch her breath.” Teresa shuffled toward a table that barely fit in the postage stamp-sized kitchen as she admonished Landon. “You look like you could use a glass of cold water, young lady.” Teresa was already opening the door of the small, older fridge.
“Yes, thank you.” Tori’s mind was spinning but she still thought about offering to help the woman. Landon was already there and he took the pitcher out of the fridge. Teresa grabbed a glass out of a dish drainer.
Tori sank into a chair at the table, her body still shaking. Her breathing had slowed and her skin had cooled some, but her face still felt hot.
It was the first chance she’d really had to look at Landon. Her eyes were a little bleary, but she forced herself to focus on him. Anything but think of the man whose face had been blown off.
Landon was over six feet, and he wore a blue T-shirt beneath a white overshirt with rolled-up sleeves, which now hid the holstered gun. In spite of the overshirt, she could tell he was way past built and must regularly work out or do something to stay in such great shape. He had a tough, seasoned look about him to go along with his hard, masculine features, and a wicked scar along the right side of his face, from his cheekbone to his jaw. She guessed he was in his late thirties, early forties.
He faced her and her already heated cheeks warmed even more. She couldn’t believe that in this situation she’d been taking stock of his assets. She took the glass of water that he handed her. Her hand hadn’t stopped shaking and a little of the water splashed on her hand.
“Thank you.” She took a long drink then set the glass on the table with a light thump. She managed to gather her composure enough to ask, “What agency are you with?”
“Department of Homeland Security.” Landon eyed her. “Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency.”
She leaned back in her seat and took another drink of water, hoping it would help settle her nerves. “I’m lucky you were outside.”
“I was at the right place at the right time.” He pulled out a chair for his grandmother to Tori’s right.
“And I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She was surprised she was able to do more than stutter.
After the elderly woman sat, Landon remained standing but leaned over and braced his palms on the table, directly across from Tori.
“Sit, Landon.” Teresa spoke in her no-nonsense tone, but the man remained focused on Tori.
“The police are going to need to know what you saw, Tori.” It was clear in the way he talked to her that he wanted to keep her calm, but needed information. “When did it happen?”
“Only minutes before you rescued me.” She swallowed. “I was walking up the hill and took a shortcut. Then I saw some men talking.” She described the two vehicles and the men the best she could with her mind pinging all over the place. “A fourth man got out of the SUV. He pointed a gun at the man standing against the white car.” She felt again the fear that had shot through her. “It happened so fast.”
“Did the men say anything?” Landon asked.
“Yes.” She struggled to remember what the men had said. Her thoughts were jumbled, confused and she wrinkled her forehead in concentration. “The one with the gun called the man he killed by something.” She frowned and then it came to her. “Mateo. The man who was shot was named Mateo. He said something and called the man with the gun by a name…something strange.” She shook her head and struggled to remember, but it lay just out of reach. “Damn. I can’t remember what Mateo called him.”