Flash Flood (29 page)

***

Dan drove northeast out of Roswell toward Clovis, New Mexico, then across the state line at Texico and continued through wide spots in the road called Falwell, Muleshoe and Olton. He didn't need a billboard welcome sign to know he was in Texas. Oil wells, ranches, cattle, everyone wearing Stetsons and driving big sedans. He passed a Lincoln with three-foot-wide horns for a hood ornament. The product of some Longhorn steer. He shrugged, only in Texas….

Scrub oak and other deciduous trees were yellowing, some had dropped almost all their foliage; but for the most part, summer was lingering, warm days, comfortably cool nights. There hadn't been a hard frost. What was really needed was moisture. The flooding of mid-summer was only a memory.

The Jeep had a thick coating of dust by the time Dan pulled into the long road that ended at a guard station with sprawling cement block buildings spreading behind it. Minimum security didn't mean without electrified fencing and lookout towers; the soccer field could be misleading. It was still a prison.

He hadn't called ahead, wanted as much of an element of surprise as he could get even if it would take an extra thirty minutes getting processed. He was asked to sit outside one of the administrative offices while someone checked his credentials. The chairs were spartan, wooden jobs without cushions, the backs hitting you at the lower edge of the scapulae. No luxury here.

Finally a young woman asked him to follow her and led him back through two more secured gates. By now he was without driver's license, keys and gold Cross pen, leaving such items in gray metal trays to be kept in thick reinforced glass booths. Finally, they reached a small conference room. They had asked if he preferred an office setting. It didn't really make any difference. They all had surveillance cameras. He just wanted a halfway comfortable place to talk.

He thanked the girl and had another ten minutes to wait before Eric appeared. He was already back in prison denim.

“What are you doing here?”

Eric wasn't exactly being friendly, but what did he expect? He probably still blamed Dan for J.J.'s death.

“We need to talk.”

“We may have said just about all we need to say.”

“I don't think so.”

Dan moved a chair closer to the table and sat down waiting for Eric to do the same. Eric made a ritual out of lighting a cigarette and bringing an ashtray to the table, but he finally sat down.

“I found a tire from the Caddy you were in when it got washed off the bridge.” He paused to watch Eric's reaction. There was a flicker of interest. “There was a bullet hole in the left rear. Lab puts the time and place about three and a half months ago and near river water.”

“Didn't you believe me? Seems like I remember telling you I was shot at.”

“Just thought you'd like to know the evidence is there.” But Eric didn't seem to care. Didn't seem to want to find out about his potential killer.

“Why are you really here?”

“To find out why J.J. implicated Elaine, said that she knew why you were set up.”

“You don't want to know.”

“Try me.” Dan wondered at Eric's reluctance. Something was going on and he was beginning to fight an urge to slam Eric against the wall, cameras or no cameras.

“I've given it a lot of thought. You started me thinking when you asked if there was someone I'd pissed off, someone who would like to see me put away.” Eric methodically rolled the ashes from the tip of his cigarette, before looking up. “Well, there might have been back then. But that was eight years ago. And it was over before the bust. I can't think it could have anything to do with what happened. I know the people involved too well.”

“I'm listening.”

“Just remember, you're the one who wanted to know.” Eric put the cigarette out, rubbed the butt around in the ashes. Then abruptly said, “I was having an affair with your sister.” He kept his head lowered.

“Jesus. Carolyn?”

“How many sisters do you have?”

Sarcasm, Dan let it pass. “I wish I wasn't hearing this.” He suddenly felt sick. Baby sister dropping her drawers for this scum? He wasn't a prude, but he was shocked. Hadn't they all been friends, Elaine, Carolyn, Phillip? Did friends do that to each other?

“You asked. You wanted to know.”

“Go on.”

“We'd known each other for years. I don't know why it happened. It just did. It was pretty hot for awhile. Meet in motel rooms away from Roswell, sneak around in town. It was over in three months.”

“Did Elaine know?”

“I didn't think so at the time. But she found some stuff Carolyn had written to me. She's the one who told Phillip.”

“What did he do?”

“Acted like nothing had happened. Never confronted me, if that's what you mean. I never knew that Elaine had given him the letters until she told me last month.”

“And Carolyn?”

“Went on with life. We decided that the relationship could be harmful. You know, the kids and all. Roswell is a small town. I was never fooled into thinking she was really interested in anything more than sex with a different partner. She's always known how her bread is buttered.”

Dan knew it was true. Carolyn would find excitement, play at something dangerous until it looked like it might hurt her “position.” It wouldn't dawn on her until later that her impulsiveness might hurt someone. Or more than one.

“And Elaine?”

Eric pulled another cigarette from the pack, lit it and leaned back in his chair.

“The beginning of the end.”

“How so?”

“Never forgave me. A few months later the plane was brought down. There was lots of news coverage. Then the trial. Within a year, I was here.”

The silence seemed oppressive. Eric didn't offer any more. Hadn't he said he thought he might know who was behind the two million? Who did Eric suspect? He'd just mentioned three people who would all have a motive. Dan couldn't put it off any longer. “Could Elaine have set you up?”

“Not her style.”

Eric had answered quickly and conclusively. Was that good enough for him? Dan couldn't argue with someone who knew her well. Not when it was also something he wanted to believe. But his sister and brother-in-law? What would he do if faced with pointing a finger at his own family?

“What about Phillip or Carolyn?”

“Let me ask you the same thing. What do you think?”

Dan was quiet, he tilted his chair against the wall. The stakes were right. It would be a problem to become governor if the little woman had a past. Worse yet, erred with the same man again. Or maybe Phillip had been angry. That blinding anger of one cuckolded. But could anyone be angry enough to set the playboy up? Get him out of the way for a while. Have a laugh as Eric fell for the bait, ruined his own life, and lived on false hope for seven years. The ultimate joke, a ploy to get even. But that part was almost harmless compared with trying to kill him when he got out. Or kill J.J. and Sheriff Ray? Could his sister or her husband do that? Could Elaine?

“You know I leave this dump tomorrow.”

Dan jerked his chair upright. Had he heard correctly?

“Out? How?”

“Thought you'd like to know.”

“How'd you manage that?”

“Phillip pulled some strings. I'll be in his custody, so to speak. The two of us are going to take a run at getting the Lear ready to fly. At least, figure out what needs to be done.” Eric paused. “Phillip's buying it. Campaign write-off. So, maybe, I should just let bygones be bygones, know what I mean? Bury the bitterness, dance at your wedding….” The old smirk was back. Eric seemed relaxed.

Dan couldn't help feeling a little unsettled at the wedding part. Strange to be getting encouragement from the ex. But why was Phillip doing this? Was it a conscience move? Paying a few hundred thousand to sleep better at night? And help Eric out in the meantime? Go back to being buddies, help his pal put it all behind him. If Eric refused to testify or Sheriff Ray didn't turn up…was there a case?

Suddenly, Dan was weary of it all. Tired of the duplicity. Too tired to second-guess Carolyn or Phillip, or Elaine. But there was one other thing, something he'd been curious about.

“Do you have a transcript of the trial? Or even notes, some play by play of highlights?”

“Yeah. I'd kept it in storage until a couple weeks ago. It's in Elaine's garage.”

That explains the keys in the safe deposit box, Dan thought.

“What if I wanted to take a look?”

Eric shrugged. “Okay by me. Do you know what you expect to find?”

Dan had to smile, “Not even the foggiest. But there might be something. It's worth a look. If I need to get a hold of you, where will you be?”

“At the Double Horseshoe, Phillip arranged it. Don't worry, I realize it would be a little crowded at Elaine's.” The smirk again but not unfriendly.

All the way back, Dan tried to put into words what he was feeling. Dread? A foreboding? If he could turn the decision around, he'd keep Eric in Milford, keep him there until he had some answers. Dan didn't believe that he would be safe on the outside. Possibly all the wrong people knew he was alive. But it wasn't just that, a fear for his life, there was something else.

Eric's attitude. It came to him in a rush. Yes, the anger was gone. But why? Was he reconciled to Billy Roland's death and the way things had unfolded—the fact that the two million was lost forever? Or was he making people believe he didn't care anymore. That was what was difficult to buy, that Eric Linden would give up on what he thought was owed to him, that he'd spent seven years looking forward to, and docilely accept his fate.

Dan remembered the Cisco Kid. That was revenge, and that was the way Eric thought, the way he approached a problem. Had anything changed? He didn't think so. Did that put Elaine in danger? Or Carolyn and Phillip? They would all have to be careful. What was Phillip thinking of? It just might prove to be one of the dumbest things he'd ever done.

***

Dan had gotten back to Roswell late. If Elaine thought it was odd that he'd gone to Milford, she didn't say. He told her he had talked to Eric but didn't go into detail. She offered that she thought Eric's getting out of Milford at this time might be a problem. He agreed. She seemed to sense he wasn't telling her everything, but she didn't push. He appreciated that. But he hated having secrets. If they were going to make it as a couple, there couldn't be anything between them.

Elaine went to bed at ten. Dan sat in the dark of the study and thought, sifted through the possible combinations—who had the most to gain, the most to lose? He tried to decide what Billy Roland would want him to do next. If he were Eric, what would he do? He was just about ready to give it up for the evening when he saw Elaine in the doorway.

“Would you like to talk?” The white oversized t-shirt hit her at the knees; she looked waif-like leaning against the door-jamb illuminated only by a street light, but Dan knew she wasn't wearing anything underneath. He also knew she wasn't trying to be seductive.

“I'd like to.” And it was the truth. It would make a difference hearing her side of the story. He had been putting it off. Afraid, maybe, of what she might say.

She went to the kitchen and brought back two tumblers of scotch, handed him one then curled up at the end of the couch.

“I'm not sure there's an easy way to begin.”

“Try me. I'm fairly resilient.”

“When I talked with J.J. the day before he died, he said that you knew who was behind sending Eric to prison.” Dan watched her closely.

“That
I
did?” She frowned, then shook her head. “I don't think I know what he meant.”

“Think back to what was happening at that time. Was there anyone who might have wanted Eric put away? Was angry enough, felt cheated, whatever, to set him up? And could pull strings to get it done?”

He saw the flicker of realization and waited while she formulated an answer. Would she tell him the truth if she was behind it?

“This is hard to believe, but….”

“I know about Carolyn.”

A look of surprise, then, “Did Eric tell you that I'm the one who told Phillip?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think Phillip could have done such a thing? Ruin Eric's life?”—Elaine paused—“Ruin mine, too. Or maybe that I….” She said the last softly and Dan watched as the magnitude of what she was saying started to sink in.

“You never thought that I was behind it, did you?” There was a mixture of hurt and surprise in her eyes as she searched his face but didn't find what she'd hoped for. He couldn't lie to her.

“I didn't know what to think.”

“And now?”

“If you say you weren't involved, I believe you.”

“I wasn't. Maybe, I thought I hated Eric, but I wouldn't have ruined us as a family. It was never as important to me to have a husband as it was that Matthew have a father. Can you understand that?” Tears welled, caught by the rims of her eyes, then singly rolled down her cheeks.

Dan nodded. He hated to see the hurt, but there was nothing he could do.

“Did those FBI men think I was involved in drugs?”

“They check out every lead, everyone involved.”

“And Eric? Does he think I could have set him up?”

“I don't think so.”

“So, that leaves us with Carolyn or Phillip.”

“Tell me what happened when you told Phillip about Eric and Carolyn.”

She was silent, no tears now, just quiet, pensive. Then, “It was awful; it may have been the only truly spiteful thing I've ever done.” Dan waited while she padded on bare feet to the bathroom and returned with a wad of Kleenex, then blew her nose.

“I realized later that Phillip was shocked, rocked to the core. He really had no idea that Carolyn would do such a thing. And, I think the bedroom was, maybe, sacred—I'm not saying this very well.” She settled herself on the couch. “Phillip is the type to take vows seriously. I've never heard a rumor about any womanizing. Frankly, he wants one thing in this life and that's to have political power, be governor, for starters. He's ruthless when it comes to that.”