When the Wind Blows (18 page)

Edna Amber listened as the screaming siren drew closer to the house. She waited until it had faded away, apparently headed toward the mine, then reached up with her cane and pounded on the ceiling.

“Diana?
Diana!”
She waited, then pounded again.

When there was still no answer, she sighed heavily and started up the stairs. Ever since that child had come into the house, things hadn’t been right. She shouldn’t have to go looking for Diana—a daughter should pay attention to her mother.

She found Diana in the bathroom.

She was kneeling by the tub, washing Christie.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” Edna demanded.

   Diana glanced up at her. “Giving Christie a bath,” she replied.

“She’s nine years old,” Edna snapped. “Surely she can bathe herself.”

“I can, Aunt Diana,” Christie said. “Really, I can.”

Diana wrung out the washcloth. “But I want to help you. All mothers help their babies bathe.”

“I’m not a baby,” Christie protested. “Mom stopped giving me baths when I was four.”

“And you’re not her mother,” Edna added. “Come downstairs, Diana.”

Diana hesitated, and Edna struck the floor with her cane. “Didn’t you hear me, child? Come downstairs!”

Diana dropped the washcloth in the tub. “I’m sorry,
sweetheart,” she told Christie. “I’ll be right back.” She got to her feet and followed her mother downstairs.

Christie fished around in the tub, found the wash-cloth and squeezed the water out of it, then pulled the plug. She got out of the tub.

Ever since she’d come home, things had been strange. She knew Aunt Diana had been over to her house—the rest of her clothes were up in her room, neatly folded. But what about her father’s things? What about the album? Where was it? After lunch, she had asked about it, but all she had been told was that she could have it when she was older.

When Diana had then insisted on giving her a bath, she’d objected, saying she’d been swimming all morning, but it hadn’t done any good. Finally she’d had to submit, and as she sat in the tub she felt like a baby. It occurred to her now, as she pulled on her clothes, that, in fact, Diana was treating her more and more like a baby. She didn’t like it, but she didn’t know what to do about it.

She remembered what her friends had said, about Miss Edna locking Diana in her room when she was a little girl. Why had she done that? And why was Diana locking her in every night? She wished she had someone to talk to about it, but there was no one. She was beginning to feel terribly frightened.

Fully dressed, Christie started downstairs, but in the living room she could hear Aunt Diana and Miss Edna arguing. It was about her—she was sure of it. She decided she didn’t want to hear it. Instead she went through the kitchen and outside.

She wandered over to the chicken coop, and the chicks flocked around her, cheeping to be fed. She started to pick one of them up, then, remembering the tiny body in the box by her bed, hesitated. She glanced toward the house, wondering if anyone was watching. She couldn’t be sure. Her gaze swept the yard and stopped at the barn.

Hayburner.

She would visit Hayburner, and the horse would make her feel less lonely.

   Edna waited until they were in the living room before she spoke. Then she turned to face her daughter and searched Diana’s eyes. “What are you doing?” she asked at last, her voice containing both anger and concern.

Diana’s face reflected her puzzlement. What had she done now? Why should her mother be mad at her?

“I was just giving Christie a bath,” she began, but Edna cut her off.

“In the middle of the day? And giving a nine-year-old a bath? Diana, are you all right?”

“Of course I am, Mother. Why shouldn’t I be?”

Edna paused. Then: “Didn’t you hear the siren just now?”

“Siren? What siren?”

Now Edna’s face tightened, and she glared at her daughter. “Not five minutes ago, Dan Gurley went by, with his siren on. You must have heard it,” she finished, her voice almost desperate.

“I didn’t hear anything, Mother,” Diana said quietly.

“Well, I didn’t imagine it,” Edna snapped.

Diana’s expression turned to exasperation. “Mother, if Dan Gurley went past here with his siren on, I would have heard it. There was no water running, and I’m not deaf.”

“Aren’t you?” Edna asked. Again she searched her daughter’s face. “Diana, I don’t think we can keep that child here any longer. She isn’t good for you.”

Sudden fury flashed through Diana. She understood what her mother was up to. “Not good for me, Mother? Or not good for you?” Her body quivering with anger, she turned, left the room, and hurried upstairs to finish giving Christie her bath.

The bathroom was empty. Diana went to the third floor and into the nursery. It, too, was empty.

“Christie? Christie, baby, where are you?”

There was no answer, and Diana was about to leave the nursery when something outside caught her eye. She went to the window and looked out.

Christie was coming out of the barn, her face smudged, her clothing covered with bits of straw. Diana’s eyes blazed as she stared at the little girl.

That was the trouble with children.

You gave them a bath, and they went right out and got dirty again.

Still, she temporized, it wasn’t the baby’s fault. Not really.

Babies have to be taken care of.

And living things—things like chicks and horses—attract them.

Shaking her head sadly, Diana left the nursery to go down and bring her naughty baby in from the yard.

   Dan Gurley stared down into the clear waters of the pond and swore softly. Even from where he stood, he knew who the little girl in the water was. With that wiry body, and the long brown hair, it could be no one but Kim Sandler.

She was facedown, her hair spreading out like a halo, arms akimbo, as if she were practicing a dead man’s float.

Dan ran down the hill and made his way through the thicket to the gravel beach. He waded in, picked Kim up, and carried her ashore. Though he knew it was useless, he tried to revive her, first forcing the water from her lungs through artificial respiration, then trying mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

Juan Rodriguez stood next to him, clucking sympathetically. Dan gave up at last and stood, his breath coming in panting gasps. He waited until his breathing was normal, then looked sharply at Juan.

“She was in the water when you found her?”

Juan nodded.

“I thought you said she was naked,” Dan said, eyeing the panties the girl was clad in.

Juan shrugged, but made no reply, so Dan tried another question. “Why didn’t you pull her out?”

“I was scared, Mr. Gurley. I don’t like dead people.”

“But she might not have been dead yet, Juan.”

Juan looked at him, his brown eyes as clear and innocent as a cocker spaniel’s. “But she didn’t move. I watched her, and she didn’t move.”

Dan sighed, knowing he would get nothing else out of the young man. “All right, Juan. Come on—let’s get her out of here.”

He picked Kim up and carried her back through the thicket. He paused there and stared at the clothing that was strewn around.

A bathing suit, crumpled in the dirt, and next to it a pile of clothes, neatly folded.

Except for the underwear, which Kim still wore.

His first thought was that it had probably been an accident. If Kim had been swimming alone, she could have had a sudden cramp and, with no one to help her, drowned.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

It looked as if she had been getting dressed.

Had she suddenly decided on one last dip? But she would have put her bathing suit back on, or gone skinny-dipping, wouldn’t she?

To Dan, it looked as if something had surprised her.

Something, or someone.

He spoke none of his thoughts to Juan, who was fidgeting nervously next to him.

“Should we take her clothes?”

“No. Leave them here—I’ll come back for them.” With Juan following him, Dan carried Kim back to his car, which was parked near the mine entrance.

Standing by his car was Esperanza Rodriguez. As she saw the body of the little girl in Dan’s arms, she crossed herself, then went to her son. She looked into his eyes, then, as if satisfied with something, whispered in his ear. Juan listened, nodded his head, then got into the marshal’s car. As Dan started the engine Juan smiled at him and spoke.

“My mama says everything’s okay,” he said. “She says I didn’t do nothing.”

Dan sighed and put the car in gear. He didn’t bother to turn the siren on as he drove back to Amberton—there seemed no point in it. As he passed the Ambers’ he saw Diana in the yard, talking to Christie Lyons and leading her toward the house.

After he’d taken Kim’s body to Bill Henry’s office, he’d have to come back out here and talk to Diana and Miss Edna, and Christie, too. Two deaths on the ranch in nearly as many weeks.

It was like the stories he’d heard of the old days, when the mine was going. Except that now the mine was closed.

   Bill Henry came out of his office and shrugged.

“I don’t know. I haven’t opened her up, but so far there isn’t much. Some bruises on the surface, but there’re no breaks in the skin.”

Dan scratched his nose and nodded. “Did you check for a sexual assault?”

Bill nodded. “Nothing. Hymen intact, and no traces of semen.” Bill paused and glanced out the window at the police car where Juan Rodriguez still sat placidly in the front seat. “Were you thinking of Juan?”

“I’m not sure,” Dan said slowly. “I guess I must have been, except the docs in Pueblo told me he was harmless. But you never know, I guess. What do you think?”

Again Bill shrugged. “Unless you have some reason for thinking otherwise, I’d call it an accident. But I won’t write that down—I want her opened up by someone who knows what to look for. Have you told her parents?”

“Not yet. I called Alice Sandler—she’s on her way down here.”

“It’s going to be rough. Kim’s all they had.”

“I know. I think that’s the worst part of this job, having to deliver the bad news. Then I’m going back up to the quarry. There’s still some looking around to be done, and I’ve got to let the Ambers know what happened.”

The front door of the office burst open, and Alice Sandler stumbled in, her eyes wild.

“Where’s Kim?” she demanded. “What’s happened?”

“You’d better sit down, Alice,” Bill said, the tone of his voice telegraphing to the distraught woman what had happened.

Alice sank to the sofa and listened numbly while Dan explained. When he was done, she looked at him steadily.

“It was no accident,” she said. “Kim’s a good swimmer. She’s been swimming since she was four.” Then, as if for the first time realizing the extent of the tragedy, she began to cry. “I mean she
was
a good swimmer,” she added, her voice breaking.

She sat still for a moment, then glared at Dan Gurley. “Juan killed Kim,” she said. “He’s a sex fiend, and he always has been. Why is he sitting out in your car?”

“There’s no evidence that he had anything to do with it, Alice.”

Alice Sandler was suddenly screaming, her face an ashy white. “Nobody else in town would do a thing like that,” she wailed.

Bill Henry sat beside her and took her hand. “Alice, so far it looks like an accident. Dan can’t arrest Juan simply because he found Kim.”

But Alice was unconvinced. “He—he did it,” she said brokenly. “He killed my baby.” Then, her grief overcoming her, she buried her face in her hands and gave in to her tears.

   
Dan Gurley pressed the Ambers’ doorbell and waited uncomfortably on the front porch. Except for Kim’s clothing, there had been nothing around the quarry. Finally he had given up his search, gathered the clothes together, put them in his car, and driven down to the Ambers’.

The door opened, and Edna Amber stared at him suspiciously.

“What’s happened?” she demanded.

“May I come in?”

Edna reluctantly stood aside as Dan stepped into the foyer, then led him into the parlor.

“Is Diana here?” Dan asked.

“She’s upstairs.”

“Could you call her?”

Edna hesitated, and for a moment Dan thought she was going to refuse. Then she went to the stairs, pounded the ceiling with her cane, and called to Diana. A few seconds later Diana hurried down the stairs. She came to an abrupt stop when she saw who was there.

“Dan. Mother said you went by earlier. Is something wrong?”

Briefly Dan explained what had happened.

“My God,” Diana breathed when he was finished. “Christie was up there this morning, too.”

“Christie?”

“And some others. Jay-Jay Jennings and Susan Gillespie. They came by on their way up to the quarry, and Christie went with them.”

“Then maybe I’d better talk to Christie,” Dan suggested.

Diana’s eyes flickered toward the stairs, and her fingers plucked at her skirt. “Do you have to?” she asked finally.

Dan frowned. “Is there some reason why I shouldn’t?”

“She’s—well, she’s only a little girl,” Diana said lamely. Edna shot her a sharp look.

“I’m going to have to talk to all the girls who were with Kim,” Dan said. “Could you have her come down?”

Diana chewed on her lip. “Of course,” she said at last. “But don’t upset her—please?” Then she went upstairs to get Christie. When she was gone, Edna turned to Dan.

“I warned you,” she said.

Dan frowned, wondering what she was talking about. “I beg your pardon. Miss Edna?”

“I told you something would happen.” The old woman’s eyes glittered almost triumphantly. “A ranch like this is no place for children. No place at all.”

“Diana was raised here,” Dan countered, still unsure of what she was getting at.

Edna’s eyes narrowed. “That was different. I’m her mother, and I had lots of help. Someone was always watching Diana. But there’s nobody here now. I can’t have children wandering all over the ranch wherever they please.”

“They’ve been doing it for years, Miss Edna,” Dan informed her.

“If they have,” Edna muttered angrily, “this is the first I’ve heard of it.”