Cold Target (49 page)

“Now that sounds mighty interesting. Care to tell me more about it?”

“That would take time. We need to find her.”

“I have all the time in the world,” Doug said as he settled down in a seat overlooking the window. The others had to turn away from it to talk to him.

“We're looking for the person who runs the shop across the street,” Gaynor said.

Doug saw Marty then. She'd parked in the city lot and was walking toward her store. He didn't want her talking to anyone until he had.

“Marty sometimes goes to the bank about this time of day,” he said. “It's two blocks down.”

“She'll be back, won't she?”

“Doubtful. She's a free spirit. Often takes off early.”

He watched as Marty turned the
CLOSED
sign to O
PEN
. He hoped the town's newest visitors didn't notice.

He got up. “You said your name was Gaynor?” he said. “What division?” He intended to call the NOPD as soon as he could.

“Homicide.”

Doug didn't like the sound of that at all. “Well, good luck to you. If you want to find Marty, you might try the bank first, then her house. You go straight up this road. Just keep climbing until you reach the last road, then turn right. Ask anyone.”

He rose and went to the bar, paid for his soda.

Then he sauntered out, went down the road and came up to the back of Marty's store. He pounded on it.

Finally, Marty answered.

“You're going to have company soon. A New Orleans detective and some woman who claims she's Liz's sister.”

She didn't look surprised.

“Where is she, Marty?”

“At a cabin fifteen miles from here.” She went in and jotted directions for him on a notepad by the telephone. “It's an old miner's cabin I fixed up.”

“I think I know it,” he said. “What's this all about?”

“She'll tell you. She's ready now, I think.” Marty hesitated, then added, “She needs you.”

“Keep those folks busy.”

“I can do that.”

He returned to the sheriff's office, called the New Orleans police department and verified they had a Gage Gaynor in homicide.

“Where did you say you were?” a voice on the line asked.

He hung up. He wanted to talk to Holly first.

Doug decided not to use his official vehicle. Instead he jumped in the Jeep. Heart speeding he started west.

A pounding shook the door. Marty left the storeroom and went out to check. She expected the three people Doug had described. Instead two men in sports coats stood there. They couldn't have looked more out of place if they wore devil suits in Disneyland.

She had just locked the door again and now she shook her head no.

The pounding grew more insistent.

She turned away, lowered the shades.

Then she heard a click in the door. She started for the phone. She didn't make it.

She'd always known she needed better locks.

That was her last thought before losing consciousness.

thirty-one

B
ISBEE

Gage found the owner on the floor in the back of the shop. Her head was cut and she was moaning.

Dom administered first aid while Meredith called the police department and an ambulance.

They had tried Marty's home only to find no one there, then returned to the store. The
CLOSED
sign was still up but the door was half open.

They went inside, and Gage found the woman on the floor. Blood seeped from a cut on her head. He thought the desk in the shop had been searched—or perhaps the woman simply was messy.

He stooped beside her.

“Gage?”

“Over here,” he answered, moving aside as Dom and Meredith joined him.

“Someone hit her very hard,” Gage said. “She's alive but just barely. Her pulse is thready and I don't like the sound of her heart.”

“Could someone have followed us?” Meredith asked.

Gage shook his head. “I don't know how. We had a rental car. There couldn't have been any kind of tracking device. And I watched. No one tailed us.”

“Maybe they tracked her through the website as well,” Dom said.

“But now someone may know where she is, and we don't,” Meredith said.

Gage stood. “That sheriff … He might be able to help.”

The police arrived, screeching up to the door and parking in the middle of the street.

Two officers entered. One knelt next to the woman. “Marty?”

“A head wound,” Gage said.

“Who are you?”

“We found her,” Gage said. “The door was open and we came inside. She was on the floor along with the telephone. She must have been trying to reach it.”

“I asked your name.”

“Gaynor. I'm a tourist. But I'm also a homicide detective with the New Orleans Police Department.”

“Have any identification?”

“Driver's license. No badge. I shot a man several days ago and I'm on suspension until the shooting board meets.”

“He shot to save my life,” Meredith added. She didn't want them to think Gage was a trigger-happy renegade.

“And who are you?”

“I'm an attorney from New Orleans.”

“Christ,” one of the officers said in a low tone.

Then the ambulance arrived and two paramedics rushed in, checking the woman's pulse, then heartbeat. They prepared to load her on a stretcher.

The woman moaned again, and Meredith moved closer to her.

A police officer joined her. “Marty?” he asked. “What happened?”

“Doug,” the woman managed to say. “Contact Doug. Tell him to hurry to—”

She lapsed into unconsciousness.

“Must mean Sheriff Menelo,” one of the officers said. “I know they're friends.” He took a radio off his belt and asked his dispatcher if he could locate Sheriff Menelo and tell him to meet them at the hospital, that Marty had been badly injured.

“I suspect my chief is going to want to talk to you three as well,” the officer added.

“We'll go to the hospital,” Meredith said, catching the gazes of Gage and Dom. They nodded.

This woman, Marty, was their only lead at the moment. They had struck out everywhere else.

Meredith worried that time was growing short. If the sculptor
was
Holly Ames, then had Marty given whomever was here her address?

If her half sister was hiding under another name, why? What did she fear?

The same violence that had followed Meredith?

She knotted the fingers of one hand in a ball. She would have bet that the sheriff earlier had recognized the woman in the photo. Meredith just hadn't understood why he tried to hide it. Unless he knew something that made him protective. If so, he was an ally.

They needed an ally in this town.

They would be taking a risk, but she had the feeling time was short.

Doug had a radio in his car and he heard the call. Marty had been attacked and had called for him.

She needs you
.

Those words echoed in his head. But Marty had asked for him. She was in poor condition, according to the dispatcher. Perhaps she had something more she had to tell him.

Torn, he finally stopped, turned around and headed back to Bisbee. Liz should be safe enough where she was. As sheriff, he had covered all of Cochise County at one time or another. He'd patrolled for illegals and smugglers as well as caches of stolen Indian artifacts. Otherwise he wouldn't have known of the cabin's existence.

He put the flashing light on top of the Jeep and pressed his foot down on the gas pedal. Ten minutes back. Then he would return.

Who would have hurt Marty? Every one in Bisbee respected her. Some might argue with her defense of down-and-outers or her opposition to many of the newcomers who wanted to change Bisbee. But crime—particularly violent crime—was not a major problem in the city.

He knew it had something to do with the three tourists and Liz.

He wanted to talk to them again. He should have pressed the point when he'd seen them. But he'd realized from the first day he'd met Liz that she was running from something. He had not wanted to excoriate the wounds. Now he wished he had.

He reached the hospital three minutes later.

He parked in front of the emergency room and ran through the doors. He stopped only briefly at the desk. “Marty?”

He didn't have to elaborate. Everyone knew Marty.

“They took her up to one of the operating rooms.”

“Her condition?”

“Critical. There's been bleeding in the brain.”

His heart sank. She couldn't help him now. Still, he decided to go up to the waiting room to see whether he could find out anything more. He walked in and saw the same three people he had seen in the bar.

He went to the desk, heard the same information as he had below. “How long before they will know anything?” he asked.

“I don't know,” the nurse said.

Then he went over to the two men and woman. “What do you know about this?”

“I found her,” the tall detective said. “After going to her house as you suggested, we returned to the store. The sign still said
CLOSED
, but the door was unlocked. We went in and found her.”

“You didn't see anyone there?”

“No, but it looked like someone had searched the place.”

Doug remembered her jotting down directions to where Liz was hiding. Sometimes imprints remained on the next page of the pad.

“Do you want to tell me why you are really here?”

Dom stepped forward this time. “As we told you, we're looking for Meredith Rawson's sister, Holly. She's my daughter. I didn't know about it until a few days ago. It's a long story, but there's been several murders surrounding Ms. Rawson's search for her sister. If you know a woman with a small boy and who sculpts in metal, she could well be Holly Ames. And if she is, there are some people who would do anything to keep us from finding her.”

“A husband?”

“Yes, a state senator. And her father is a justice on the state supreme court. Both men are powerful in Lousiana.”

“And your role in this?” Doug stared straight at Gaynor.

“I'm here for Meredith.”

Doug quickly made up his mind. He felt he was a good judge of people, and he instinctively trusted these three.

“Let's go,” he said to Gage.

“I'm going, too,” Dom said.

“So am I,” the woman added.

He didn't have time to argue with them. He turned to Gage. “You have a gun with you?”

“No.”

“I have an extra one in the car.”

He started toward his car at a jog. He had a sick feeling in his gut. They reached his Jeep. The older man got in the front without asking. The other two piled in the back. Doug screeched off, putting the siren back on top of the Jeep.

Holly waited for Marty to either call or return. Her friend had promised to do so if she heard anything from the mysterious sister.

She also knew Marty would call Doug. She continued to keep her ears turned to the phone and her eyes on the nearly invisible road that led to the cabin.

Harry was quiet. More quiet than she had seen him since they had reached Bisbee. Even Caesar moved around with his tail between his legs.

She had explored the area behind the cabin, the mountain it backed up to. Marty had said it was full of hiding places. It had once hidden Apaches for months.

Holly fixed some pork and beans for herself and Harry, then looked back outside. It was late afternoon, and the sun was falling, casting shadows over the desert landscape.

Holly shivered with loneliness.

She looked outside again. She saw a trail of dust rising up from the distance.

Doug?

Her heart flip-flopped at the thought. She dreaded telling him the truth but it would also bring relief.

She should have told him earlier. She knew that. She'd allowed fear to overcome her instincts.

She looked back outside. The vehicle was closer. Not a Jeep. Not Marty's old Bug.

That fear she'd been trying to mask flared into full terror.

She grabbed the dog's leash and clicked it on. She couldn't leave the animal here and break Harry's heart once more. “Come on, Harry,” she said. “Let's play a game of hide-and-seek.”

“I don't want to,” he whined.

That was so unlike him that she stopped for a moment. But urgency propelled her ahead. “Don't you want to come with Caesar?”

He stared at her for a moment, then slid off the sofa. “I suppose so. But I would rather go riding with Sher'f Doug.”

She would, too, but instead she hurried him out the back, trying her best not to frighten him. She held his hand with her left hand and guided the dog with the other, moving as quickly as she could. They scrambled up to a ridge. She gave the leash to Harry and pointed out a direction. “You go ahead,” she said. “Then I'll find you.”

He gave her a dubious look but pulled the leash and stumbled forward. She looked at the ground they'd just passed over. Footprints.

She took a branch from a shrub and backtracked, brushing away their signs. Then she caught up with Harry, who had stopped and was waiting for her.

She wished she had the cell phone with her. But in her frantic escape, she'd left it inside.

“Doug,” she whispered. “I need you.”

They went across the ridge, then started climbing again. She heard some shouts in the distance.

Her car was still parked in front. Perhaps she should have taken it and made a run from Bisbee.

Too late now. Panic had driven her. It drove her now.

She wished with all her heart she had a weapon. Why hadn't she taken a kitchen knife? Anything.

She did know she wouldn't surrender without a fight.

“Faster,” she urged Harry. “Faster.”

Meredith told as much of her story as she could, then Gage took over, and finally Dom.