A Stolen Chance (5 page)

“Hey, Carson.” A woman at a far table spoke over the low hum of voices. “Turn on the television, will you?”

He moved to the corner of the room and turned on the set placed high enough for the entire room to see. A weatherman graced the screen. From the colors and arrows on the U.S. map, it appeared the weather would be cold but not freezing today in the Albuquerque area. The same wasn’t true for the northern states, which were in for some arctic temperatures.

She finished her meal while listening to the national news in the background. Nothing she hadn’t heard before. The DOW was down, oil prices increased, extreme weather conditions, and another pro athlete had been caught using drugs to enhance his performance. She rummaged through her purse for her wallet and removed a twenty. When she glanced at the television again, a reporter stood in front of a house fire.

“Authorities think the explosion...home destroyed by fire...believe the body...that of Susan Lawton...”

Susan couldn’t breathe.
Fire? Her home destroyed? Body?

Chapter Four

What the hell...

The attractive woman rushed out the door like the cops were on her tail. She’d not even put on her coat but had simply thrown it over her arm. Carson strode to the window and peered out. Her camper van threw gravel as she sped out of the parking lot.

He watched her head west on Route 66.
Hope she knows the road ends in about a mile
. Something had spooked her
.
He glanced at the television, trying to remember what stories had been broadcast. Darn. He’d wanted to find out if she lived around Siesta.
Oh, well, too late now.

****

The cold night air nipped at Carson’s ears as he stood under the stars waiting for Hans to finish his business. He stretched to ease the ache in his back. With the police force, he’d experienced both physical and mental fatigue. Working on your feet all day resulted in a different kind of tiredness, not necessarily good, either. Standing in one place was a lot harder than moving around. Plus, it wasn’t doing what he loved. Not that he hated it, but police work was his life, and he doubted he’d ever be content to stay here and work. But he’d promised Aunt Leona he’d give her and Uncle Buck some time off. Maybe he’d be able to work through his demons while doing so.

He glanced around the courtyard, pleased at the glow of lights in windows and the occasional sound of a guest’s voice. All but the first cabin were occupied. Aunt Leona had said, twice, “Don’t fill number one unless you absolutely have to. The ghost lives in there, and he doesn’t like just anybody bunking with him.” She said people had been known to leave in a hurry in the middle of the night.

Carson grinned. He’d spend some time in the cabin when he got the chance, put the spirit rumors to rest. He sighed. The raven turning up still bothered him. He didn’t want to believe a ghost had waltzed into his cabin and left it on his table. That was hard to buy, but how else could it have gotten there?

Unfortunately, he and Aunt Leona hadn’t had a chance to talk further today about Grandpop’s fetish collection. Carson was curious to learn more about his great-grandmother’s Zuni heritage. It made sense she would be the original owner of the collection, but why hadn’t it gone back to her people rather than to his great-grandfather? Well, why should it? If the fetishes of the collection were hers, then they’d go to Grandpop and then to Gramps.

Hans stopped searching for the perfect spot and, with ears tilted forward, alerted on something in the darkness. He whined, trotted back, and nudged Carson’s leg. Obviously, whatever the dog sensed wasn’t dangerous, or he’d be growling. Carson peered into the inky expanse west of them. Not an occupied building for a mile, but a faint glow in the approximate area of the abandoned travel court down Route 66 was visible. That motel sat back from the old road and had been vacant for at least twenty years, probably thirty.

Carson studied the light. Maybe headlights reflected off some object, but the glow didn’t waver. Surely someone wasn’t camping out in the overgrown trailer court there? A fire, if not controlled, would spread rapidly in this dry winter weather. He didn’t know who owned the property or he’d call and report his suspicions. Hans whined again.
Hell. Guess I’ll have to check things out.

“Okay, boy—” Before he could finish, the dog took off through the scrub brush. Carson yelled, “Be careful.”

He rushed inside and grabbed his revolver and a large flashlight.
Dammit! Just what I need—a little exercise to ease my aching back.
He jogged through the thick weeds, tripped on a rock, and almost fell.
Damnation. Watch your feet. If you step in a hole you’ll be lying out here in the cold until morning.

****

Susan stifled her sobs, sucked in a lungful of air, and choked. She coughed and wheezed, trying to catch her breath. It took several minutes to regain control of her breathing. For a minute there she feared she might choke to death out here in the middle of nowhere. Wouldn’t Dewayne get a kick out of that? She swiped at her tears of exertion. At least the spasm had been a distraction. She’d spent the day alternating between weeping and sleeping, her only escape from her misery. Lauren was dead, and Susan’s poor parents thought the body in the fire was Susan. Did she dare try to contact them and ease their minds? If she did, would Dewayne somehow be able to trace the call? She didn’t know what to do.

When she left the diner this morning, she’d been intent on getting away. Her friend had been killed in an explosion and fire in Susan’s own home. It was her fault. If Lauren hadn’t been aiding Susan in her escape, she’d be alive today. The horror was too much to process. Susan had driven down Route 66 until the road dead-ended. Sitting back from the road on her left sat an abandoned travel court—alone and neglected. The large ramshackle café next to the road hid much of the parking area. Overgrown with weeds, the small areas of asphalt were broken and uneven. She’d pulled around behind the restaurant and parked close to the building. Between the restaurant and the cottages, she remained hidden.

Susan leaned back in the chaise lounge chair she’d brought along for just this purpose. Of course, she’d pictured an RV park, or possibly a campground at a state or national park. Tired of being cooped up in the van, she’d come outside to do her mourning, and to think and plan. A Coleman lantern cast enough light for her to see for several yards into the surrounding night. Her .38 lay in her lap under the blanket. She sighed. It was time to put her grief behind her and move on. Lauren had sacrificed herself to give Susan more time. Thinking Susan was dead, Dewayne would give up the search. After what her friend had given, she had to be successful in her escape, else Lauren’s early demise would be in vain. Lauren’s death gave her one more reason to hate Dewayne. He’d caused the explosion and the fire. Of that she was certain.

Her camping spot faced the dilapidated travel court rooms. They were connected by small garages. At one time they’d been the height of fashion as far as motels went. Now they resembled skeletons of a time gone by. The once-graveled parking area hosted weeds and grasses. Trash blown in on the wind littered the area. Fortunately, the spot where she’d parked was less overgrown, and she’d deemed it safe to place the lantern several feet from the foot of the recliner so she wouldn’t be lit from behind.

The sky above her resembled an endless length of dark blue velvet whose uneven surface gave it shades and textures. Stars dotted the expanse, and a few twinkled. She closed her eyes and pulled the blanket up around her shoulders. The air, though crisp, smelled clean and refreshing. It was peaceful here. If only things were different—if she were in a different place in her life, not on the run and hiding from Dewayne.

Yet, if that were the case, would she be out here in the middle of nowhere? Alone? For all she knew, she wasn’t by herself. Anyone could be out there beyond the lamplight. Her skin prickled. Should she get in the van and head farther west? She peered into the darkness, looking for signs of danger. Nothing. Nothing she could see. She closed her hand around her gun. Its presence lessened her apprehension somewhat. Her eyes burned, and she allowed them to drift shut...for just a minute.

Few sounds permeated the darkness. The muted road noises and the hum of tires on concrete from Interstate 40 resembled the drone of insects, the occasional eighteen-wheeler louder in its insistent thrum.

Something wet and cold touched her cheek. She slapped it away, as her eyes jerked open and a screech ripped from her throat. She scrambled from the chair, revolver clutched in her hand. With the gun held in front of her, she turned, searching for…for what...what...a wolf? She screamed, “Get away. Shoo.” She cocked the gun, and trained it on the beast. No, it was a dog. The animal started toward her and then stopped, plunked its butt down not far from her, tilted his head, and woofed as if he wanted to play.

She giggled, and then sobered when the shepherd’s ears perked and he turned toward the east. The sound of running footsteps crunching on gravel drew her attention away from the animal. Startled, she turned and aimed.

“Drop your weapon, lady, or I’ll shoot.” The voice from the darkness belonged to a man. “The dog won’t hurt you.”

Susan struggled to keep her voice steady. “You drop...your gun...first.” The hand holding her gun shook so hard she had to steady it with her left.

The man stepped into the circle of light. “Look, lady, the dog is mine. He won’t hurt you, and neither will I. He heard something and thought you were in trouble. Took off before I could stop him.” He smiled and patted his leg with his free hand. “Come, Hans.” The dog trotted to his side.

Hans? Wasn’t that the name of the dog at the café this morning? The man—the one who’d served her breakfast?

His eyes darted around her makeshift campsite. He raised an eyebrow. “Looks like he might be right. You shouldn’t be out here all by yourself. You have car trouble?”

Heat rose in her face, and Susan prayed he couldn’t see her flush of discomfort in the glow of the lantern. She could imagine how odd her being out here alone appeared. “No.”

When she didn’t elaborate, he sputtered, “What the hell are you doing out here, then?”

“I received bad news today, the passing of a dear friend. I was too upset to drive. Not that it’s any of your business.”

He ignored her rudeness. “Oh, I’m sorry, but hey, you can park your van at the motel up the road. There’s no need for you to be out here all alone.” He tucked his gun in his jacket pocket, stepped forward, and offered his hand.

“Carson Rhodes. I own the Siesta Motel and Café, where you stopped this morning.”

She studied him a moment, then made up her mind. She transferred her gun to her left hand and, with her right, shook his. “Su...Shannon Langley.” He remembered her from this morning? Darn! That wasn’t good. Probably his buddies did too. She didn’t want anyone to be able to identify her. But what did she expect after making goo-goo eyes at him? She’d better be more careful.

“Where are you headed?”

She said the first thing that came to her mind. “Santa Fe.”
Oops, that’s not good
. Santa Fe was east of Siesta. But, this man didn’t know she was from the other side of Chicago.

“Strange time of year to be taking a vacation.” He shrugged. “Not that this area isn’t beautiful all year round, but most tourists come during the summer.” He raised a brow, a habit she supposed. “Unless they’re here to ski.”

“No, not hardly. I’m on sabbatical from my job and using the time to tour New Mexico. I’ve always been interested in the Indian pueblos, and summer is too hot to go traipsing through ruins.” Man, she was getting good at lying.

His eyes narrowed in thought, as if trying to make up his mind whether she was telling the truth. He said, “Come over to my place. You can plug into the electrical, if you want. No charge.”

It was tempting. She didn’t feel secure in this isolated location, but getting close to this man might be more dangerous than staying here. There was something about him... His presence was reassuring, but still he had an air about him that spelled danger. Not a physical threat, but one of discovery. Just a single person learning her identity could set Dewayne on her trail. Plus, why was he being so nice to her?

“No, but thank you. I’m just fine, so take your dog and go.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Sorry. Can’t do that.”

“Why the heck not?”

“Couldn’t live with myself if I left you out here all by yourself and something happened. We don’t have much crime, but it never hurts to be careful.”

She looked around at the darkness beyond the halo of light. The cottages that had appeared non-threatening when she’d driven in now cast ghostly shadows. It was quiet but for the sound of faraway traffic. A few lights twinkled in the distance. No, she didn’t feel particularly safe, but she wouldn’t let him know. “I’ve got a gun.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Can you shoot someone if you have to?”

Hell if I know. No, I take that back. If Dewayne stood here threatening me, I’d have no qualms about firing.
“Yes.”

“What if an intruder caught you unaware and you didn’t have time to use your weapon? Unless you’ve practiced often, you’re at risk, a possible victim.”

She adjusted her grip on the revolver pointed toward the ground and squinted to peer into the shadows. Could someone be out there? His comments didn’t reassure her, but she’d made up her mind. Locked in the van with her gun, she’d be fine.