Desert Exposure (23 page)

The crowd loved her. But Michael suspected Rachel could be up to something; hatching some new plan to find her grandfather. She hadn’t said one word about what had been written on the note. He’d have to keep Rachel and Stanton in his sight for the remainder of the evening. Because, deep down, he guessed that Stanton was putty in her hands. He’d do anything Rachel asked of him.

****

A little after midnight, Michael sat outside the club’s entrance on the motorbike. Rachel snuggled up behind him. The night air had turned damn cold, but having her small body pressed up against his back had him feeling overheated.

Stanton leaned in close, examining the bike. “So you might sell it?” he asked loudly.

Michael shrugged and leaned closer. “We have new developments. Come straight back to Henry’s cabin. If you can hide your car and walk a bit, that would be great.”

“Yeah, can do. I know the area,” Stanton said softly.

“I’m looking for a buyer…maybe next month.”

“Great bike,” Stanton said, raising his voice and circling the bike. “When you decide to sell…let my buddy inside know.”

“You mean Fred, the mayor of Desert Scapes?”

Dave laughed. “That’s the one.”

Michael waited until Stanton sauntered around the bike again, and then came back close to the handlebars. “I’ll give you a ten minute head start. But wait until we get inside the cabin before you approach. Come along the shore to the back verandah.”

With a raised hand, Stanton walked to his car. He turned slowly. “You gonna sing here again?” he yelled.

“Sure enough,” Michael called back, and grinned up at a couple who passed by.

“Good to know,” the guy said. “It brings a bit of life to this godforsaken hellhole.”

“Thanks,” Michael said, and felt Rachel nestle even closer into his back. “Glad you enjoy my music.”

The guy made pleasant small talk. Michael tried to concentrate, nodding when he thought he should, but his concentration was on the receding taillights of Stanton’s car. The guy finally said goodnight, and strolled toward a flatbed truck. Michael hoped he could trust Stanton, because now he would have to confide every detail of the case. There’d be no holds barred.

“So…about the elderly blindfolded man,” Rachel said, whispering into his ear.

“Ah, not the place,” Michael said, scanning the parking lot. “We’ll have time to discuss everything before Mantis arrives.” Mantis could be playing both sides, and going with the highest payer. Could he be watching them now? Were he and the skinny young woman hidden behind the rusted out trucks? Or would Mantis already be at the cabin, a black stick figure blending in with the trees and awaiting their arrival?

Michael road toward the highway not wanting to believe it, but the 2am appointment could be a set up. A tiny shiver ran up his spine, and he sensed something was rotten somewhere. He should have given Rachel over to Dave’s care and gone to the cabin alone. But now there was no going back on the plan. Besides, she’d never go away for longer than she had tonight and leave Ralph alone. She’d demand they go to the cabin first to get Ralph.

“Hang on, babe,” he yelled over his shoulder. “Ralph will be excited to see us.”

She nestled closer. “He’ll be out cold on the couch,” she yelled back. “But get home fast. We need to go spring my grandfather.”

Chapter Thirteen

They turned off the highway and Rachel sensed something was wrong. They’d turned onto the short unsealed drive of hard packed sand that led to Grandpa’s cabin and the motorcycle swerved. Michael cursed, and gripping around his waist tighter, she watched the path of the bike’s headlight.

That’s it. That’s what’s wrong.
“Stop,” she yelled, and hit Michael’s back. “Stop now.”

“What?” He stopped and cut the light.

“No, put the light back on.”

Rachel pointed to the deeply rutted road. “Look at that. That’s wrong. That’s not how—”

“Shit.” Michael immediately switched the headlight back off. “We’re leaving the bike here. Maybe you should stay. I’ll go on foot and check—”

“No,” she said, her voice harsh. “Ralph is in the cabin.”

“Let me—”

“No.” She gripped his upper arm tight. “We’re in this together.”

Even in the dark she sensed his frown and knew he did a quick weigh of the pros and cons. She hopped off the bike. No way in hell she’d stay out here alone while he went to the cabin. About to make a run for it, she felt his firm grip on her elbow.

“Okay.” He drew out his gun. “Stay close behind me.”

****

“Holy shit!” Michael said, as they stopped a few yards from the cabin. Somewhere behind him Rachel started to whimper.

His eyes had accustomed themselves to the dark. He couldn’t believe what he saw. There were deep tracks everywhere. Heavy vehicles had recently travelled up and down the road, and criss-crossed the front area of the cabin. Even the side gardens were flattened. He stood still, barely breathing, and listened. Not a sound.

An eerie quiet hung over the place. It looked like a war zone, or a scene out of an action movie. Pieces of wood had splintered and they hung at odd angles, and the entire front of the cabin was pockmarked with bullet holes…dozens, no, hundreds of them. The screened-in front porch had gaping holes in the mesh. The door hung listlessly on one hinge.

Poor Ralph.
Michael’s chest tightened. Rachel had sunk to the sand, on her knees, her torso stretched forward. He heard dry retching. She rested her forehead on her folded arms, looking like she was offering up a prayer. Maybe she was. “Stay,” he whispered, and broke into a run. He didn’t even know if she’d heard him.

He had to get to Ralph’s body first, if there was anything of it left. He couldn’t let her see that. His heartbeat quickened as he approached the cabin, his gun drawn. The inside front door of the cabin was locked. Fortunately he’d put a new key on his own key ring. He heard Rachel’s wracking sobs behind him, but he didn’t look back.

He unlocked the door, turned the knob, kicking the door wide, and dropping into a half-crouch. He held his gun level. Nothing moved. He flicked on the light. Sitting on the couch—half of its cushions blown apart—was Mantis. He held Ralph to his chest. They’d both been asleep. Mantis squinted at the light. Ralph yipped when he recognized Michael, and he wagged his tail. Michael looked from Mantis to the dog, and then back again. Relief made his knees weak and he stiffened his thighs.

“Smart little dude,” Mantis said, and yawned. He gave Michael a lopsided grin. “I found him underneath the couch.”

“When did this happen?” Michael asked, and picked up Ralph who had darted across the room to him.

“Around midnight. I’d gotten here as fast as I could. I’d heard what was going down.”

Michael nodded, dropped a kiss on Ralph’s head, and frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Heard they intended to do a hit on the bar…I spread the word you were there, but had left early…said you were shacking up here, with your girl.” He shrugged. “Safer than killing a lot of innocents. No way I could get another message to you, because I’d already headed up here. Sorry, I didn’t know about the little dude.” He glanced over at Ralph.

“You were here when it happened?”

Mantis nodded. “Yeah. Had to walk and didn’t know how long it would take me.”

Michael waited for him to go on.

“I sat back along the road a bit. When I heard several heavy vehicles slow down on the highway, and exit off, and saw three sets of headlights extinguished, I headed for the trees.”

“Jesus!” Michael ran a hand over his face.

“Yeah. They had a real party. Some serious shit is going down with this, Doc.”

Michael nodded. Ralph happily licked his face. Then he remembered Rachel. “Hang on,” he said to Mantis, and hurried back out the door. “Rachel, hon. Ralph is okay.”

She raised her head from the sand. And in the shaft of light from the front door he could see her confusion.

“Ralph is fine,” he said, hurrying toward her.

She slowly pulled herself up a bit, as his words began to register. He put Ralph down on the ground, and the dog hurled himself at her. She totally got it then. The place came alive with squeals, and barks, and kissing. So much for keeping their existence at the cabin quiet, but after the drive by shooting—well, hell, it was more of a massacre—Michael didn’t much care. The attackers might come back to make sure they’d done the job though. But he doubted that. They’d be long gone. He sensed movement, and swung to his right, gun leveled.

“What the hell happened here?” Stanton asked, coming up from the back of the house. His feet were bare, wet and sandy. He carried his shoes tied by the laces and swung over one shoulder, and he held his gun, aimed and steady. His pants legs were rolled up to his knees. Michael figured he’d decided to walk at the edge of the water to cover his tracks.

Mantis came out of the cabin, and stood on the porch. Stanton swung toward him, gun still leveled. Rachel remained on the ground, hugging Ralph, and rocking back and forth.

Stanton looked up, frowned. He took a step closer to the porch. “Fernando?”

“Deputy,” Mantis said, with a nod. He looked around and out toward the dark trees. “We might want to get inside, turn the lights out.”

“Yeah,” Michael said, and waved Stanton inside. He cast another quick look around. Nothing stirred. Not even a breeze.

Stanton hesitated a moment. “Some of them were on foot. They must have jumped out of the vehicles, run around the back while the driver ripped up the front, then climbed back in and driven off. They shot up the whole damn place. Back and front.”

Michael swallowed hard. This had turned into one hell of a fucking mess. If they hadn’t gone to the bar, they’d be a mass of bloody pulp. If he’d insisted on leaving Rachel here…

Ah, hell
. He couldn’t even go there. Not even in his thoughts, and he swallowed hard against the sudden rise of bile in the back of his throat. Whoever tailed them had obviously noted their arrival earlier. Had perhaps seen them take off in the boat, and then return later in the day.

Who the hell is it, and where is he situated
?
And what gang is he working with
?

Michael grimaced. If their tail had seen them drive off on the bike to the bar, he must have left the area at that point, and not followed them to Fred’s. If he had done that, he’d have known they hadn’t returned early. He helped Rachel to stand, and supporting her still shaky body, walked her and Ralph inside the cabin. He locked and bolted the front door, and thought of the irony of doing that.

“Hang on a minute,” Mantis said, and sprinted across the room and out the back door.

Michael and Stanton exchanged glances. Rachel, still preoccupied with Ralph, fussed and cooed at him like he was a baby.

“You trust him?” Stanton asked.

“Implicitly,” Michael said.

A minute or two later, Mantis reappeared. “They didn’t take out the boat,” he said. “The boat and the dock are sound.”

“Good. Terrific, we’ll leave by Henry’s boat,” Michael said. “But where will we go?”

Mantis explained that they could dock at a neighbor’s place, about a mile and a half up the shore. The guy was out of town, and the most immediate neighbor was in rehab. It would be a short walk back to Stanton’s car. Then they’d get Rachel to a safe place.

Michael was impressed. Knowing their nearest neighbor was not at home explained why nobody had reported the sounds of gunfire. Although, knowing the closed mouths of the people who frequented these shores, he figured most people would keep their distance. He doubted anyone would say anything, or report hearing gunshots. What the hell would he do with Rachel? He couldn’t leave her here. She couldn’t go home. No way in hell she’d go with him to Ocotillo Flats. He had enough unknowns on his plate and couldn’t be watching out for her welfare while trying to locate the Suarez brothers.

“Ah…do you think Fred can be trusted?” Michael asked.

Stanton looked up. “Absolutely.”

Mantis nodded. “Yeah. He’s cool.”

“Anyone know his phone number?”

Stanton pulled out his cell phone. “Got it right here.”

“Give me a sec before you call.” Michael turned to Rachel. “Okay. Now, I don’t want any argument. You and Ralph will stay with Fred, if he agrees. If all goes well, and we make it out of Ocotillo Flats in one piece, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She looked up at him, her face streaked with mascara and tears. “And if you don’t?”

“Then you can attend my funeral.”

She shook her head at him. “Don’t be an ass.”

“Sorry,” he said, and shrugged. “But it’s always a possibility, and you know, you have to make light of stuff when you’re in my business.”

Her bottom lip quivered, and she snagged it with her top one, pressing them tight. His heart pained something awful. He wanted to hold her, tell her he loved her. But damn, he hardly knew her. And he wasn’t even that sure, because he’d never been in love before. But whatever the feeling, he knew he wanted her in his life, and not short-term. He slapped one fist against an open palm. Anger welled up inside of him. When had that happened? He didn’t have time for love. He had a case to solve. And what an absurd thing to happen, especially as he might walk through this door, into another cabin and get his head blown off.