Desert Exposure (13 page)

He screwed up his mouth until his forehead hurt. He tried to relax his features, attempted a smile. Maybe he’d rough the old man up again tonight. That should please his brother. Ricardo loved the sport. The old man was cunning like the wolf, or the coyote. He watched everything, and seemed to be waiting, biding his time. He’d accept the torture.

Pedro had the woman’s jacket in his car, along with her digital camera. He could taunt the old guy. Tell him he held the granddaughter hostage. Maybe the old guy would snap then and tell them who the agent is and where he lives. They knew he knew him. He shifted his position on the branch, reached into his pocket and jingled the old man’s keys, and felt the cool latex of his disposable gloves through the packaging.

That film had to be the missing one from the old man’s camera. The other two camera’s had yielded nothing. The cunning old guy had said he’d accidentally exposed the film to light, so had tossed it into the sea. Pedro’s heart pounded in anticipation. There were too many rolls of film for his overtired brain to deal with. Too many cameras. They’d have to get out of the Salton Sea area after he took care of the two locked in the darkroom.

He wouldn’t leave evidence. No fingerprints. No gunshots. No bullets. No blood to trickle from beneath the door. The two would eventually suffocate, or die of panic, or starvation, locked in that darkroom. He could torch the place. But that would bring on a full blown search and then they might not have time to get out of the area.

He’d have to be on guard when he opened the door. They could rush him. Disarm him.

They were two people and a dog, against one person. But he was armed.

He’d make them sit on the side of the tub with their hands on their heads, and he’d offer them their lives in exchange for the prints. If they resisted he’d shoot them. But that would be his last choice. If they handed over the negatives, then he’d close the bolt on the door again, and walk away. He’d have to move fast. Better that they stand in the tub facing the wall, with their hands on their heads. That would put them at a slight disadvantage. Still, he’d have to be fast.

He’d tell his cousin they’d have to leave today. Well, at least tonight, under cover of darkness. His cousin would arrange everything, like before. Exhausted, his eyelids drifted closed for a couple of minutes. The sound of a car’s engine jolted him. He’d dozed off. He rubbed at his face, careful to avoid the throbbing wound, and then raised the binoculars.

“What the hell?”

The honkie drove in his vehicle, his window down a gun in his hand. The granddaughter was in her car close behind him. She also had the window down and Pedro saw a flash that could be from a gun. Hell, they’d both been armed. He felt a quiver of fear run up his spine. They could easily have overpowered him. They were almost at the turnoff to the highway. He wouldn’t fire. They were two against one.

Could that guy be the DEA agent?

Pedro narrowed his eyes. He didn’t fit the description they’d been given, but he sure had an interest in what had been going on in these parts. He took another look. Too short, and his hair was too light. But informants didn’t know everything. And that snoop he’d seen the morning he captured the old man had been tall. He froze. Tall like the dude who had jimmied the back window of the cabin.

Damn
. He realized there’d be no need to go to the cabin now. They’d have taken the negatives. He’d have to get rid of all three of them. He’d notify his cousin; he had the men for the job: five hombres with assault rifles and a fast car.

Pedro laughed and jumped to the sand below, forgetting for the moment his head injury, and his world went temporarily black. He shuddered from the jolts of pain that shot up his spine. He leaned forward, his hands on his knees, and stayed still for a few moments. After a few long slow breaths, he lifted his head and blinked back the moisture that filmed his eyes.

“Pussy.” He spat onto the sand, and suppressed another shudder.

With no time for weakness or self-pity, he loped toward the date palms, where he’d hidden the car. The sound of a siren stopped him. He slid behind a tree trunk and watched as a black and white pulled into the driveway to the cabin, its lights flashing. He got into his car and took off. He couldn’t risk leaving it there; but where to hide it now?

Who the hell are these people?

And how did they have the cops in their back pocket? Nobody around here rated an immediate response. For the most part, the citizens in this area ruled themselves. A tiny fear that he’d gotten himself into hot water tried to take over his thoughts. He banished it. He made the sign of the cross, and vowed he’d see that DEA agent dead.

****

“I’m going to pull over and leave the police vehicle in the JC Airport,” Michael said to Rachel by cell phone. “Be prepared to switch.”

“Okay.”

She pulled up beside him and he slid into the passenger seat, reached for his gun, and rested it on his thigh. Before he’d finished buckling up, Rachel was already back on the highway. He scanned the area behind them, and checked out every car that approached. After five minutes or so, he turned toward her.

“Tell me everything you know about Manuel, the guy who works for you.”

She looked over at him for a second, a frown puckering her forehead. “What do you mean?”

“What references? Or recommendations.”

“He’s a good man, I think,” Rachel whispered, and she pressed her lips tight.

“Everything,” he said. “Someone knows our every move.”

“Ralph really likes him.”

Michael frowned.
What the hell does that have to do with anything?

She cleared her throat. “He’s from Mexico. He’d done bar work and restaurant work there. I hired him for a one week trial. He um…he um…he didn’t have references, but he’s legal. He has a green card.”

It could be a fake.

She knew that, too. He sensed it in her quick glance, and in the way she’d fumbled her words. She liked Manuel. Michael did another quick check of the highway. So, Manuel had been good to her, or so she’d said earlier. He’d have to navigate that subject with care. Anyway, there was other information he wanted from her as well.

“Okay,” Michael said. “Let’s not arouse Manuel’s suspicions.” He thought things through for a minute. “We’ll play him. Reel him in. Tomorrow will be soon enough for me to interview him officially. I’m still inclined to work this case undercover.”

He sat back and observed her for a minute. She could be very helpful to him. And, by keeping her close to him, he could observe whatever occurred as it unfolded. And protect her. And kiss her again. He smiled at that thought. By the way she’d handled the gun earlier he sensed she could give him back up. Her grandfather had obviously taught her how to protect herself. His focus was his case. He worked best alone. There had never been a woman to come between him and his career.

So why couldn’t he take his eyes off her, or his mind away from what he wanted to do to her? And why consider working with her?

He needed to know exactly when his contact arrived at the bar tonight. The guy could be skittish. If kept waiting too long, he’d disappear. And once he’d dispensed with his information he always liked to get the hell away from the location of the exchange as fast as possible. Not that Michael could blame him. Being a snitch was risky business.

Should he involve Rachel
?

Never linger was one of his own mottos, and it always kept him safe. He was fleet of foot. Just like his snitch. Having someone else on board could slow him down. His other mottos: Always work alone, and trust no one, flashed through his thoughts. They drove in silence for a few miles. He weighed and balanced.

“What time do your dance lessons finish?”

Rachel shot him a quick glance. “There are two instructors, me and Janie. We split the lessons, one doing from seven to eight, the other one from nine to ten. I can call her and request I take the first slot.”

“Do you go back afterward, to close up at Cliffs?”

“I don’t have to. Manuel can do that.”

He blew out a huge puff of air, and then straightened his shoulders.

“Good. Tonight, if you will consider it, I have to go to Desert Scapes undercover, I’d like you to come along. I’m singing in a dive down there.”

“You are?” Rachel looked at him with unconcealed doubt. Then she turned her head back to concentrate on the road ahead.

Michael laughed. He felt more relaxed now. Now that the decision had been made and voiced. “Yep, and I’m a rich kid who likes to spend Daddy’s money and goof off instead of taking classes at SDSU.”

She shot him another look, but this time it showed interest.

“I drive up to the desert at night, pretend to do some dope, sing a few songs, and generally get wasted. It’s a good life.”

“And I’ll be?”

“My girlfriend.”

She laughed. “I’m a bit old to be hanging around with a college kid.”

“I’m an old college kid,” he said, aware that it had been so easy to say girlfriend in reference to Rachel. “I’m working on my Doctorate.”

He watched her profile as she drove. She was different than anyone he’d ever dated. Not that he was dating her, but he would if he could. He liked her easy going nature and her self-sufficiency. And he liked her complexity: Bar owner, dance instructor, photographer.

If she just wasn’t so damn spontaneous...or was that reckless?

“Think of me as a perpetual student,” he said. “You don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

“Well, in that case, Detective Michael Baxter Delaney, why don’t we go back to the cabin after your gig?”

She turned, wriggled her eyebrows and laughed, and then concentrated on the road ahead for a couple of minutes. A minute or two passed and chemistry and heat sparked every which way in the small car. She eyed him carefully, her hands gripping the steering wheel, and gave him one of her slow grins. Something fizzed up his spine.

His cell phone rang, jarring him out of his near stupor.

“Delaney. Yeah, yeah, uh huh. Okay, thanks guys. Appreciate it.”

Rachel shot him a questioning glance.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” he said, and shoved his cell back in his pocket. “Two officers went to the cabin. They found nothing amiss. But they did hear a vehicle in the vicinity as it took off. They gave chase but it was long gone. They found fresh tire tracks deep into the next door neighbor’s date farm.”

“There’s nobody there now. Poor old guy is in a rehab center after a stroke.”

She kept her eyes on the road. “I’m thinking the cabin will be safe now. I’ll bet when that guy finds us missing, he’ll be long gone. Especially after the cops showed up.”

Michael nodded. Damn, he’d been thinking the same thing. He swallowed hard, and turned his attention back to the occasional car that passed them. What had she meant by going back to the cabin? He could only hope her thoughts had gone in the same direction as his own. But, if the dude hung around, if he went back to the cabin, that could help him to find their hide-out. He wanted that as much as he wanted Rachel. But could he risk that? Could he put Rachel in any more danger?

“I can get in some groceries for tomorrow,” she said. “Then whenever you’re ready we can drive down to Desert Scapes, for the gig tonight.”

Michael nodded again, not trusting himself to speak.

“Or, we can go to the cabin first. It all depends on what time you have to play.”

Exactly what he’d hoped she’d suggest. Staying with Rachel all day, and then all night, had been high on his fantasy list. Now tomorrow sounded promising.

“Hey, what about your finger? How can you play?”

“It’s nothing,” he said, raising his hand to inspect it. “It’ll be fine by later tonight. You’re not afraid to stay in the cabin, are you?”

“No. Not with you there,” Rachel said.

“Good.”

“If you repair the darkroom, I’ll even print up the photos.”

“What if our guy comes back?” he asked.

“We’ll deal with him.”

That sounded like something he’d say. He liked that about Rachel. She was matter of fact. “Damn, I forgot. My guitar is in the Hummer.”

“No big deal. You’ll need the Hummer anyway. We can drive by the house. We can pick up some food in Almagro. How long do you want me to stay at Cliffs this afternoon?”

“As briefly as possible.” He turned to face her. “But don’t set off alarms. I’ll go in to the department there’s some research I need to do. Do you usually work on the night you do the dance instruction?”

“It varies. But most of the time I’d be out of Cliffs when happy hour ends.”

Michael nodded. “Good. That will work.”

She eyed him for a moment. “You could get someone to drop you off at the Rabbit Ranch, and then come with me in my car.”

“Yeah. And I’ll buy some new locks. Install them tonight.”

“You can get some good quality ones at the hardware store. And we can pick up tools from my garage. I mean, if you really think it’s necessary to change the locks.”

“I do. And I’m going to put plywood over the windows.”

“Why?” she asked, and frowned. “How long are we staying?”

“I’m not sure.” Michael watched her for a few seconds. “If it’s all right with you, I might use the place for a day or two.”