Lonestar Sanctuary (33 page)

"Looks like someone uses this place." Kicking at the ashes with the
toe of her boot, she glanced around the space.

Black things in the corners made her shudder. Bats, but they
weren't moving. The storm would blow itself out soon, and she could
get home to Betsy.

Once she figured out what to say to Rick. Tears welled in her eyes
again, and she turned her head, but not fast enough to hide her emotion from Charlie.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Fine." She sniffed and gulped back her pain.

"Rick have a drinking binge or something?"

She looked up then. "You knew?"

"Well, sure. The whole ranch knows. Elijah was waiting for Rick
to fall, but he hasn't so far. Maybe you weakened him. You have that
effect on men."

She wasn't going there. Uh-uh. Charlie seemed to have words of
confession hanging on his tongue, and she wasn't going to give him
a chance to tell her he was crazy about her or something equally
embarrassing.

Standing, she walked around the cavern, though she was careful
not to look up at the bats. If she saw one move, she might scream.
"What kind of mine is this?"

Charlie stood and joined her. "Mercury." He kicked an orange rock
with his toe. "Cinnabar rock carries it."

"Why isn't it mined anymore?"

"I don't know, do I look like a park ranger?" He laughed, but there
was an edge to it. "I've been wanting to talk to you. Sit down." He
took her arm in a surprisingly hard grasp and marched her back to
the rock.

There was no getting around it. She was going to have to hurt his
feelings. Just what she needed on top of an upsetting day. "Look,
Charlie, let's not go there. I'm happily married."

His laughter barked, echoing off the sides of the mine. "Get real.
You're not as pretty as you think you are."

She drew back at the derisive edge to his voice. "My mistake," she
said in a cool voice. "So what's on your mind?"

"Women like you can twist a guy until he doesn't know which way
is up." Charlie swore and stomped at the ashes and charred wood, scattering them in all directions. Vile words spewed from his mouth as he
waved his hands and roared around the space.

Allie wanted to grab Moonbeam and run, but the storm had
descended in full fury. The wind howled outside the mine opening,
and the thunder boomed in a continuous roll. Rain sluiced over the
entrance like a waterfall.

"Calm down, Charlie. Tell me what this is all about." She tried to
speak in a soft, calm voice, and it seemed to work. He quit kicking at
the ground and turned to look at her.

Then she saw his hand come up with a gun.

"Put that away." She spoke in her strongest, most assertive voice.

"You killed my brother." His voice was calm and reasonable.

"Jimmy Hernandez is your brother? Bu but you're not Hispanic."

His short laugh made Moonbeam prick his ears and step back.
"This has nothing to do with Hernandez. You're so stupid. I gave you
plenty of time to figure it out."

"Who's your brother? I thought you said he was a politician."

"He wanted to run for office, but you killed him. The name Mark
Haskell ring a bell?" He watched until she flinched, then he smiled.

"Mark's dead? I didn't know."

He leaned over her, yelling at the top of his lungs, "Of course he's
dead, you heartless witch! He hung himself when you broke his heart.
You led him on, then tossed him aside like a piece of trash when you
were done."

Allie winced as spittle sprayed from his mouth over her face.
"Charlie, it wasn't like that. We weren't romantically involved. He
never even kissed me."

"You're a liar! He'd come home at night and tell me what you said
about loving him forever. Then some new cowboy walked in and
whisked you away from him."

"He lied to you," she said, trying to edge away. Her back was up
against the wall of the mine. "You have to believe me."

The storm was beginning to abate. She could hear the thunder
moving off. They had to get down off this mountain and through the
wash before a flash flood hit.

Charlie quit looming over her. He stepped back, and she took
hope that maybe he was listening to the truth.

"Please, you have to believe me, Charlie. I only went out with him
a couple of times." Did Charlie kill her family and Yo? Staring into his
face, suffused with red, she could believe it.

And she was stuck here in a mine with him training a gun on her.
Praying, she tried to think of what to do. She couldn't leave Betsy
alone.

THE WIND RATTLED THE TRUCK LIKE A COUGAR SHAKING A RABBIT. RICK
gripped the wheel and fought to keep it on the road. He kept shooting cautious glances at the sky. While tornadoes weren't common in
the Big Bend area, they weren't unheard-of either.

Lightning snaked across the sky, and thunder chased it, a rumble
that he felt clear through the vehicle. Allie and Betsy were out in this.
He had to find them.

Squinting through the driving rain, he struggled to see the road.
With the storm obscuring the landscape, he had no idea where he
was. Then he saw a lane off to the right and recognized his neighbor's
drive. The ranch was still ten miles away. He should pull off and wait
this out a few minutes.

He wanted to press on, but if he ended up in a ditch, Allie and
Betsy would be lost. He angled the truck into the lane, keeping it on
the high part so runoff wouldn't flood him out. With the truck shut
off and stationary, the storm battered the vehicle so much, he thought
it might tip over. There could be a twister in this sucker.

His cell phone rang, and he fished it out of his shirt pocket. "Bailey,"
he said. He heard a voice on the other end, but the storm was so loud,
he couldn't hear well. Then he realized it was Brendan.

"Got word about---"

"Say again, Brendan?" he shouted. "I'm in the middle of a spring
thunderstorm."

"Mark Haskell," Brendan said, the connection suddenly clearing.
"He hung himself, which is why Allie didn't hear from him again."

"Holy cow. Listen, Brendan, this is important." Rick had to shout
over the sound of the wind. "Betsy's missing. I thought we found the guy
who was after Allie, but I was wrong. Did this Haskell have any family?"

"Just a brother he was raising. Half-brother actually. The kid ended
up in a mental hospital for a while. Charles-" The rest of the name
disappeared in a crackle of static.

"What was that, Brendan? You cut out. What's Charles's last name?"

"Reyes," Brendan said. "Charles Reyes."

Charlie!

His friend Charlie, who was out looking for Allie. Could they have
been wrong? Maybe Luis had nothing to do with the deaths. He
claimed he didn't.

The static in his phone grew louder. The connection was about to
die. "Brendan, I don't think my phone is going to hold. If you can hear
me, call the sheriff in town. Tell him Charlie Reyes has Betsy and is
going to kill her and Allie. I'm going to the ranch now."

Brendan's response was garbled, then the phone went dead. Rick
could only hope and pray his friend got the last of the words. He
started the engine, backed out onto the road he still couldn't see, then
sped back toward the ranch as fast as the buffeting rain would allow.

He couldn't believe it. Not Charlie. He was just a kid. But then
murder didn't seem to have an age requirement.

He reached the turnoff to the ranch. A new river had sprung
into existence while he was gone. The wash across the road ran
heavy and deep. He was going to have to try to make it through anyway. The truck shuddered as Rick gunned it. The tires found purchase in the mud under the water, then a wave slapped against the
door. The truck bucked again. The tires lost their grip, and the
water lifted the vehicle.

In seconds, the truck was riding the waves in the middle of the
current. Hurtling toward the Eye of the Needle, as they called the
hole between two huge boulders. No way would the truck fit through
there.

Rick unfastened his seat belt and prepared to abandon the truck.
With the force of the current, the vehicle would slam into those rocks,
and he didn't want to be trapped in the cab when it happened. He
might be unable to get out with the doors and windows jammed up.

The truck slewed sideways, and the passenger door became the
leading edge. Rick tried to open his door, but the water pressure was
too great. He jerked around to see the approaching rocks, then ran
the window down to try to get out that way. Sitting on the top of the
window opening, he grabbed the top of the truck and hauled himself
up until his feet were on the armrest.

Then he was atop the truck, looking down at the red-brown,
swirling water. The bank was fifteen feet away, and it would be a hard swim to make it, but he had no choice. The rocks loomed ahead, and
the impact would knock him in the water anyway.

The rain continued to drench him. He shot up a prayer for help,
then leaped. The water closed over his head, and then his feet touched
the bottom. He kicked with his heels and shot up to the surface,
where he gulped in air. He couldn't see which way was to safety, but
he saw the truck barreling toward the rocks and struck out perpendicular to its trajectory.

Flotsam and debris battered him as he struggled to swim in the
turbulent water. Pieces of sheet metal barreled by, and he ducked out
of their way, but one raked a sharp edge across his arm. He grabbed a
piece of wood and hung on to it for buoyancy. Fatigue was already
beginning to slow him, and he wasn't sure he'd make it. Then his boot
touched bottom, and he used the stability to propel himself forward.
His arm struck a tree limb, this time not one floating in the water but
anchored in the soil.

He grabbed the limb, hauled himself to shore, and lay in the mud
with the rain pounding on his back. Half-unconscious, he coughed up
the dirty water from his lungs.

Allie. Betsy.

They needed him. He managed to get onto his hands and knees,
then finally to his feet. Patting his pocket, he realized his cell phone
was still there, though it was probably useless.

The rain began to slow, and he blinked water out of his eyes. He
needed a horse and Jem to try to find Allie. The barn was three hundred feet up the lane, but on the other side of the water. He'd have to
climb the rocks and sidle across the Eye of the Needle.

Gathering his strength, he started for the rocks. With his boots
wet and the rocks slick with water and mud, it would be a hard trail. He reached the base of the hillside and started up. Cold mud and
muck clung to his hands and caked his boots. Several times he fell on
the slippery surface. Finally he was at the summit.

Below him, the truck rocked and scraped against the rocks as the
roaring flood battered it. The door had crumpled in, and the rolling of
the water had smashed it from all sides. He straddled the narrow rock
and began to scoot along toward the other side. The water rose higher
and higher on the face of the cliff until it touched the soles of his boots.

But by then, he was nearly across. With a last shove, he gained the
boulder on the other side and began his descent. It was just as treacherous going down as it had been going up. One false step, and he'd
hurtle to his death.

There weren't as many finger holds on this side. When he was
about ten feet from the ground, his hand slipped from the rock, and
he began to slide down. Scrabbling for a finger hold, he tore the nail
from his thumb but continued to fall. His other hand flailed out but
found nothing to grab hold of.

The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back in the mud, staring into roiling black clouds. On either side of him were more rocks,
but he'd fallen into the only safe spot. Thank you, God. He struggled to
his feet in spite of his screaming muscles. Hobbling toward the ranch,
he finally managed to break into a run. The barn and house were just
ahead.

First he should see if Allie was back. Maybe his fear was for nothing. He rushed up the steps, threw open the door, and stepped inside.
The welcome respite from the storm made him pause, then he hurried to the living room.

Empty.

He turned and ran back outside. His boots smacked through the mud puddles as he ran to the barn. The doors to the barn hung open,
and so did the gate. He heard voices around the back of the barn and
veered to the back paddock.

The horses were gone. He could see several of them at the far edge
of the field. Several of the hands and the teenagers were chasing them.

He caught sight of Fern coming from the barn with a halter in her
hand. "Have you seen Allie?" he asked.

"What's wrong?"

He hesitated, unsure if he should alarm her. "She went out for a
ride this morning, and I don't want her caught in this storm."

"I haven't seen her all day," Fern said.

"Me neither," Latoya echoed, exiting the barn behind Fern.

"Hang on. I only want to say this once." Rick waved over the rest
of the group.

Devon and Emilio jogged toward him with Leon coming up a few
paces behind. The ranch hands gathered around too.

"Look, Betsy and Allie are missing, probably out in this storm,"
he said.

"Dude, you need help?" Devon asked. "We can go out too."

"I can organize them into a search party," Emilio said.

Rick hesitated. While he could use the help, he didn't want the
kids in danger from Charlie. "Just pray, guys. Emilio, call the sheriff.
Tell him I found out Charlie might be a danger to Allie, and I'm looking for them now."

"Charlie? No way," Devon said.

"It looks like he's behind the attempts on Allie's life. And someone
stole Betsy out of the bedroom early this morning. I've got to find
them."

"Let me come," Emilio said.

"The kids need protection in case he comes back.You'd better stay
here." Rick turned toward the house. "Get in the house. Lock the
door, and don't let Charlie in if he comes back."