I veered onto the road and brought the Jeep to where Bo stood. He holstered his gun and assumed a paternal tone. "Please get into the back, Goldy."
As I hopped out of the car, a blue van traveling eastward slowly passed us and stopped on the shoulder twenty feet below the ambulance. The Front Range ambulance lights flashed inexorably: red and white, red and white. The guard's body did not move. I couldn't see or hear the ambulance driver.
I opened the door to the back seat. Jake began to howl. On the shoulder twenty feet from the ambulance, two women emerged from the van. They were calling to us: Need help? Everything all right? Need... call on... cell phone? Suddenly I felt Bo's hand grip my shoulder.
"Get back in the goddam car, Goldy. Climb back there with your son, now!"
Arch was crying. His body was stiff with fear. I lost my balance trying to sit and ended up both beside and partly on top of Jake. The dog snuffled and whined. I was sorry to have scared Arch. But seeing Marla so weak and frightened strengthened my resolve.
Bo checked the mirror, then zoomed the Jeep across three lanes and careened up onto the bumpy median. The Jeep rocked from side to side as it bounced, too fast, over the rocky, unlandscaped strip dividing the interstate. Finally the car shot up on the westbound side of the highway. Bo snapped the steering wheel to straighten the shuddering car. The Jeep's engine ground ominously as we sped back toward Aspen Meadow.
Marla struggled to breathe. The rash on her chubby bruised face made her look monstrous. Jake snuffled and licked my hand. General Bo was staring straight ahead, pushing the Jeep to high speed.
I looked back. Below the median, I could just make out the two women approaching the ambulance. The guard's body was still sprawled, limp, on the road.
We were fugitives.
16
"Goldy... I'm sorry you had to..." Marla rasped. "I can't believe you and... Bo... what you did..."
"I need your wrist," I said matter-of-factly. "I've got to monitor your pulse. That epinephrine could zap your heart right into overtime."
"Great." She struggled to catch her breath. "So then what? Call an ambulance?" Finding this amusing, she wheezed with laughter.
"Look," I replied, "cool it. I can't do blood pressure or EKG, but you need to let me check you for extra heartbeats. We may end up at the hospital yet."
Marla cackled and gasped again. "Leave it to Goldy to break me out of jail using food. Marvelous - "
"Try to calm down," Bo ordered her gently. Instead, to my dismay, she gulped for breath and started to weep. She thrust her left hand in my direction. I clasped it, felt for a vein, and checked my watch. Normal. I knew enough about adrenal-type stimulation to expect bad side effects, if there were going to be any, within thirty minutes. On the other hand, the epinephrine should start alleviating her allergic reaction within a minute. Let us pray.
With her free hand, Marla opened the glove compartment. A cellular phone fell out. Sniffling, she slammed the compartment shut, groped in the storage compartment between the bucket seats, and pulled out a tissue. Awkwardly, she blew her nose. "Bo... I'm so... sorry I haven't been nicer to you..." She laughed between sobs. "Great time for remorse, huh?"
"Would you please stop talking and hold still?" I demanded. Still, the wheeze appeared to be fading from her voice. I concentrated on the vein in her wrist.
But Marla would not be quiet. "When I heard Bo's voice, saw the two of you, I... I didn't know what to think. What... what have you done? What's going to happen to us?"
Bo's smile beneath the fake blood streaks was small and guarded. He took a clean tissue Marla offered and dabbed at his face. "Is that allergic-reaction medication working? Do you need some ointment for your hives?"
She ignored his questions. "Why, Bo?" she insisted. Her pulse remained normal. The scratchiness definitely had cleared from her throat. "Aren't you violating your parole? Why are you here?"
He glanced over at her. "You're beginning to sound better." He frowned. "Why am I here? Because Goldy asked me to help. You know me, I'm a military-action kind of guy."
"Cut the crap," Marla snapped.
"All right, then," he snapped right back, "I did it because whatever's gone on between us, we're family."
"I don't know, guys," Arch interjected. His voice wavered. "This is all pretty... heavy." With my free hand, I patted his shoulder. He shook me off with a muttered, "Quit it."
Still clasping Marla's wrist, I twisted in the leather seat to check whether anyone was coming for the guard and the ambulance driver. But the roadside scene had long ago been swallowed in fog. I tried not to imagine how much trouble Tom would get into when news got out that his wife had held up an ambulance. I turned back and focused on Marla's pulse. Hunched over the wheel, General Bo sailed up the interstate. His prominent chin jutted out at a determined angle. The speedometer needle quivered just above seventy miles per hour.
"That guard's going to be fine," Bo reassured Arch. His grip tightened on the wheel. "She must have studied acting, that one. Or maybe she was truly passing out. When I want to kill or maim someone, I do it."
"So..." Marla groaned. "Where are we going? How is all this... going to end up?"
No one answered her. Bo glanced into the side mirror and changed lanes. 1 checked my watch: Ten minutes had passed.
"Getting back to cutting the crap," General Bo said mildly, "why don't you, Marla, dear, tell us what's going on. Goldy didn't have a lot of time to fill me in. She said you'd been accused of killing your boyfriend. Did you?"
Marla bit her bottom lip and said nothing. "Self-defense?" Bo prompted. His eyes didn't move from the road. "Maybe you were just pissed oft? God knows, I invested in that mine, too. I'm pissed off"
Marla shuddered. "I did not do anything to Tony. I know it looks bad, because I was the last one with him...."
"Well, next to last, anyway," Arch added helpfully.
Marla went on: "Besides my hundred thousand in Prospect, he'd borrowed another eighty thou from me to put down on land in Steamboat Springs. He probably owes money all over the Denver metropolitan area. I want my money back. But I didn't kill him."
"Maybe he was cheating on you, and you just thought you'd hurt him," Bo offered, his eyes still fixed on the road. "Maybe he insulted you. Maybe you'd just had enough. Frankly, I don't care. But before we go farther, it would be best to know all we can."
Marla didn't bother to hide her hostility. "You're as bad as the cops. I haven't even begun to tell you how they treated me." She turned around. Even with the hives receding, her bruised face seemed hideous to me. "You should have heard them. 'What were you mad at Tony about? Did you hit him? How many times did you stab him?' "
The general groaned sympathetically, but glanced at her expectantly, as in, Well? How many times did you stab him?
Marla's tone was frosty and deliberate. "I don't know who hit me, I don't know why, I don't know who hit Macguire, I don't know who put the bloody shirt and knife in my car. I didn't take Tony's damn watch, and I certainly don't know where Tony is." She glared at us.
Another uncomfortable silence filled the Jeep. "Jake could f-i-n-d Mr. Royce," Arch spelled out confidently.
"Dead or alive," the general whispered. "So what are we going to do?" Marla asked angrily. "Go back to Goldy's house and wait for Tony to call?"
Twenty minutes had elapsed, and Marla's heartbeat, if not her humor, was in good shape. I took a deep breath. "Okay, look. You were attacked by a bald person. Maybe it was Albert. Maybe it was someone else. Tony's vanished. I think our only hope is to go back to the campsite. The Furman County Sheriffs Department has access to just one bloodhound these days - "
"Oh, yeah!" Arch interrupted. "The police in Aurora asked to borrow that dog a couple of weeks ago, and the handler's been involved down there, so they haven't been able to work that dog up in the mountains - "
"Are you kidding?" Marla exclaimed.
"Look, Marla," I protested, "it's our only hope."
"What is our only hope?" she squealed. "Going back to that damned campsite? In this weather? To look for what? Besides," she added sarcastically, "I thought Arch's dog was retired. Something about how he'd become untrustworthy. Please tell me I'm wrong."
Jake, sensing he was being discussed, began to whine. Perhaps the canine was smarter than I was giving him credit for.
Arch piped up, "Jake just had trouble with three trails last year! It was because the department got a new handler who didn't know what he was doing. Jake was mistreated and got all nervous. The department thought his smeller was off. But Tom and I know that isn't true."
"I think we should try to track Tony's movements," I said. I added mentally, And rely on Jake's smeller not being off.
"Mom's finally beginning to understand what Jake can do," Arch said with an eagerness that made me uneasy. "See, even with the trail going to the creek, we should be able to locate the body. In the water, I mean. All that stuff in movies about prisoners getting rid of their scent? You know, by wading in a stream or something? That is completely wrong. You leave your scent in the water just as much as you do on the ground. See, bloodhounds can follow the trail along the creek - "
To my astonishment, Marla burst into tears. "My life is hell," she wailed.
"Please stop," I murmured. "Please don't, you'll just - "
"Who is trying to ruin my life?" she bawled. "What did I do?"
"Don't try to talk," I told her gently. Bo pulled into the far right lane and slowed slightly until we came to a lighted green highway sign.
"All right, listen to me," the general began, as he peered through the mist. "Goldy's plan is good. We go to the site. We track Tony to the last place he was seen. Maybe he was kidnapped. We track him to where a car j picked him up. Or say he was killed, thrown in a ditch.. Ditto. Then whoever did it must be the one who planted the evidence implicating Marla. Arch, you said you and Tom have worked with Jake. You don't think the dog's unreliable, do you? We're all telling the truth here, young man."
"Okay, look. Jake had a couple of problems our first time out," Arch admitted. "He got confused by a pool scent. But he did better after that."
"My number-one priority on this trek is to keep everyone safe," General Bo announced fiercely. "With you first, Arch. I promised your mother. You take care of Jake. I'll take care of you. Okay?"
"All right," Arch replied angrily. "You don't need to baby me."
I said, "We're just looking for clues that De Groot and Hersey might have missed. And to track Tony's last movements. Maybe with Marla gone, the sheriffs department will search a little harder for Albert."
I looked tentatively at Marla. Her face was set in deep doubt. No point in discussing any more until we got to the site. But to do that the fastest way, we had to go into Aspen Meadow and turn onto the state high- way that led to Blue Spruce and the Grizzly Creek campsite.
We rounded the lake. I held my breath as we began the descent to the light on Aspen Meadow's Main Street.
"Christ," muttered General Farquhar. He pointed and I felt my heart clench. The law, it seemed, had already arrived on my street. Two patrol cars, lights whirling, were double-parked by the turnoff to our home.
The light at the intersection of Main Street and the highway leading to Blue Spruce and Grizzly Creek changed to red. With no place to turn around and the light against him, General Farquhar rocketed the Jeep through the intersection. He swerved wildly around a Volvo with a Kansas license plate, then barely missed a pickup truck as he plowed down the left lane. I guessed he was trying to find enough room to make a U-turn. He finally careened onto the sidewalk in front of the Aspen Meadow Cafe, plowed down a bush, and gunned the Jeep back up Main Street. Behind us, a siren sounded.
At the light, an enormous Safeway truck lumbered into the slow, tortuous turn toward the lake. The Jeep tires squealed as General Bo darted wide around the truck. The truck driver, confused by the Jeep's sudden appearance, braked. All traffic was suddenly blocked as we zipped through the narrow opening made by the truck. Bo veered left, heading west on the highway. Belatedly, the truck driver let loose with his horn. Drivers on three sides joined in the cacophony.
"What was that about keeping everybody safe?" I yelled. No one listened to me.
When we had gone less than a hundred yards, General Farquhar gunned the Jeep up the grass-covered hill next to the road. We slammed through a flimsy wire fence and careened across private property. For the next ten minutes, the general took us through two more yards and then across back roads until we came to the acreage of Furman County Open Space property. We met with some strange looks and barking dogs, but no police cars and no angry-tempered Coloradans wielding.357 Magnums. Thank heaven.