Hallowed Ground (45 page)

Not yours.

He didn’t say it; he didn’t have to.

I pointed to the water pitcher. “Pour me a shot, will ya?”

Kevin released my hand, gave it one final kiss and recognized the conversation was over.

It’d gone better than I’d hoped.

Bright bouquets of flowers were scattered around. “Well, aren’t I just Miss Popularity? Who are all these from?”

“This one,” he held up a
Winchester Ammunition!
coffee cup jammed with grassy strands resembling ditch-weed, “is from Jimmer. The yellow roses are from Trish and Doug.”

Had Dad stopped in? I didn’t ask.

“Kim dropped this off.” He frowned at a small stuffed tiger. “That’s bizarre. Almost looks like she purposely scorched the fur in some places.”

She probably
had
torched it to make it look more like me. Kim did possess a strange sense of humor. It was also her clever reminder that although I was frayed around the edges, I’d survived.

In an oblong opaque vase, filled with indigo marbles, seven delicate stems of orchids branched out, each stalk laden with a different colored set of blooms.

“Those are from me,” he said.

“They are absolutely stunning, Kev. Thank you.”

Nothing from Martinez.

I swallowed my disappointment.

“You’re welcome.” He sauntered over to the window. Sunshine shimmered around him. He kept his back to the room, to me. “He’s been here, you know. Prowling the hallways.”

My heart beat faster.

“He’s the one who called and told me about you being in the hospital after the explosion. I wouldn’t have known otherwise.”

“Martinez did?”

“Yes.”

Thick silence.

“I won’t pretend I understand why you’re with him, Jules.”

I tensed. This was another conversational avenue that was a dead end. Kevin had no right to expect an explanation from me, and I had no intention of giving him one.

“You are with him, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Kevin’s sigh of exasperation with me was actually sort of nice. Normal for us.

“As your friend I think you’re making a huge mistake, but that’s nothing new for you. As your partner, from now on, you
will
keep your relationship with him strictly on a personal level.”

I’d be happy to sit at my desk and research employment histories at Wells/Collins Investigations for the next ten years if I never had to live through anything like the last ten days again.

“Take some time off. You deserve it.” He shoved his hands through his hair. “Can I ask you something?”

“Umm. Sure.”

“Does he go anywhere without a bodyguard?”

I smiled. “I can think of a few places.”

He angled back toward me, but with his face in shadow I couldn’t read his eyes. “Just be very careful. I couldn’t take it if anything happened to you.”

The nurse came in and started poking me.

Kevin disappeared and not long after I drifted away.

“Hey. Come on, Collins, wake up.”

I recognized the sheriff’s gruff voice. “I’m not waking up unless you brought me a present.”

He snorted.

My eyes opened. As usual, he was right in my face. The man had no clue about personal boundaries.

“Glad to see you’ll continue to make my life hell.” His eyes softened. “Girl, you give me ulcers.”

“Your job gives you the ulcers, not me.” I stretched and sat up. “Speaking of, what happened after I blacked out?”

“Why don’t you get right to the point?”

“Hey, I’ve been out of it for a day and a half. I deserve to know. And please don’t tell me you can’t tell me.”

Surprisingly, he launched right into it. “Saw your truck and me and John went running up there.

We found Reggie first. Then I saw you. Bleeding, passed out in your bra. Decided there must’ve been a reason you’d tied him up—nice cuffs by the way—so we left him trussed until you were loaded in the ambulance.”

“Frankie?”

“In Federal custody, same as Reggie. It was a zoo. The FBI showed up, along with the ATF.

Kicked us off scene, which was all right with us.”

“Did Reggie tell you he hired Maurice Ashcroft?”

“He’s talking to the Feds about lots of stuff.”

Bet the Carluccis weren’t happy. “But Maurice is in your jail, for killing Rondelle, Luther, and Tommy? And Red Granger, right?”

He sighed and pushed back away from the bed.

“What?”

“Maurice Ashcroft is dead. Suicide. Left a note and everything.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

The holy shit wasn’t for the suicide. Holy shit was because I knew in my gut Martinez had been involved.

And he’d gotten the information from me the last night we’d spent together. Smart move, blabbing my theory on Maurice.

Talk about deadly pillow talk.

How was I supposed to feel? Sorry? Used? Angry?

Disgusted?

My emotions ran the gamut. Mostly I felt . . . relieved.

Maurice
had
killed four people. Probably for sport as well as greed. Many would argue his murder was warranted. An eye for an eye. What goes around comes around. The end justifies the means.

Even if in the end it meant vigilante justice had served it?

I honestly didn’t know.

I’d used those same rationalizations myself. Lying, breaking into places I shouldn’t, hacking into secure sites, withholding information from the cops, from clients, from my partner. Verbally and physically threatening people if they didn’t cooperate with me. Firing a gun at someone just because I could. So far I hadn’t stolen anything but hey, it was early in my PI career.

Who was I to pass judgment on anyone else when I was clearly guilty of breaking the law? On more occasions than I cared to admit? Was lying for my own gain worse than lying to help someone else? It’s all lying, isn’t it? Is there a degree of separation? Who decides what it is?

Where
does
one draw the line?

Killing for the greater good? Or murder for hire?

I hadn’t killed anyone for revenge.

Yet, I’d let Meredith Friel walk free after killing Bobby Adair for revenge. And I’d taken the blame for it.

That made me guilty on a whole different scale.

The sheriff interrupted my internal war.

“Maurice hung himself. Wife found him in his barn. Coroner was puzzled by the puncture wounds all on his upper arms and torso. Decided they were probably just from him fixing barbed wire fence and from a rusty wire chicken cage he’d been working on.”

Or from the Hombres torturing him. Was that part of the enforcer qualification process?

Retribution?

Was Martinez vindicated now that he’d gotten revenge?

Yes. This time.

I suspected there’d be other times. But I sure as hell couldn’t judge him on what might happen in the future. I closed my eyes. Our worlds were so different.

Then again, we were both willing to do what it took to make things right, whether or not that action fell outside the law.

Was I making excuses for him? Maybe. We’d clicked on several intimate levels, on some I never had with any man. Would he try to change me? Probably not. I didn’t want to change him.

So where did that leave us now that the case was over?

“ . . . in my mail.”

“Sorry. What did you say?”

“Said I finally got a chance to open my mail yesterday. With all the things happening it was on the bottom of my list of priorities. Was nearly a week behind.” Hooded eyes watched me carefully. “Had an interesting item in one package.”

My fingers pleated the bedcovers. “Yeah? What?”

“A security disk from Trader Pete’s. No name on the return address, though. Curious, doncha think?”

Rondelle. Oh my God. When she’d asked me to name the one person I’d trusted above all others

. . . I’d thought it was a casual question. My heart ached that she’d had no one in her life she could trust.

“What did you do with this disk, Curious Tom?”

“Gave it to Dave Tschetter. Lawrence County isn’t my jurisdiction, you know that. Dave will do right by her.”

Doubtful Little Joe Carlucci would do time. I so wished he’d have gotten a taste of his own medicine in prison.

“There’s another thing you should know.”

My eyes were afraid to meet his. What else? Had Little Joe Carlucci whined about me shooting up his precious car? It’d be the ultimate miscarriage of justice if he escaped doing time for rape and I was arrested for discharging a firearm in public and destruction of private property.

“What?” I managed.

“Maurice also shot Donovan Black Dog. Another ballistics match with the Ruger Mini-14 he used to kill Red Granger. Can’t believe Red was shot with his own gun.”

We chewed on that sad fact for a second.

“Speaking of . . . Donovan came out of his coma yesterday. You want me to take you down there so you can talk to him?”

I nodded.

The nurse helped me into a wheelchair; I wasn’t happy about that but she swore it was hospital policy.

We rode the elevator down.

The sheriff only made one snide comment about my lovely prison-striped hospital gown. When he saw the concrete burns on my knees, the scratches and gouges on my shins, and the scrapes on my forearms from trying to escape from Reggie, he became awfully quiet.

Donovan had more tubes and machines and medical junk surrounding his bed than I’d ever seen.

He was awake when the sheriff wheeled me in.

“Hey,” he said. “If it ain’t my guardian angel. They wouldn’t let me come up’n see you.”

“I’ll be outside,” the sheriff said, and vanished.

“You look good,” I lied.

“And here I thought you could bluff. You don’t look any better than me.” His gaze searched my face. “Is the building really gone?”

“I guess so.”

“So’s my job, then. Brush Creek will hafta declare bankruptcy.”

“Don’t they have insurance?”

“Some. But it won’t cover the cost overruns. They sure won’t be able to rebuild the casino.”

All those people, out of work. Didn’t seem fair. No one had won in this situation.

He closed his eyes. “I get tired real quick so I’m jus’ gonna say this. Thanks for savin’ my life.”

“You’re welcome. Where’s Chloe?”

“
Shee
. Still lookin’ for her? Like a wolverine on the trail, ain’t you?”

“Can’t close my case until I know where she was . . . is.”

He didn’t draw out the drama.

“Won’t matter if you know now. She’s at one of them private summer camps for Native kids up’n Minnesota. Two months of campin’ in a tipi, fishin’, learnin’ Lakota and the old ways.” A slightly crooked smile. “Run by my great uncle. She was so excited. Didn’t have no idea why I was sendin’ her there. She jus’ thought she’d gotten lucky, been real good or somethin’, getting to spend the summer runnin’ free with her cousins. Without me and Rondelle fightin’ over her.”

“So the whole time I’ve been busting my ass looking for her she’s been roasting marshmallows, telling ghost stories and having a good time at camp?”

“Yep.”

I laughed. “Man, am I glad to hear that. We were all freaked something bad had happened to her.”

“Told you she was safe. I told you ya wouldn’t find her.”

He frowned, and I could tell it took effort.

“She don’t know ’bout Rondelle. Sad thing. Rondelle lost her mama, now Chloe has too.” His breathing deepened. “My family is gonna wait ’til I get there next month to tell her. I told them jus’ to let Chloe be a kid for a while more. She’ll grow up soon enough.”

I thought on that for a moment.

I reached for his hand and said, “Be well,” and waited to leave until he fell asleep.

After the sheriff had returned me to my room, he left.

I admired my flowers. Stared out the window at the shimmering lights of Rapid City and Ellsworth Air Force Base and beyond to the plains and Badlands. Brooded that I had one more night in this place before I could go home. Alone.

The prospect didn’t fill me with joy.

On impulse I picked up the phone and dialed.

He answered on the second ring.

“I found out where Chloe is. I’m ready to wrap up this case.”

I hung up, closed my eyes, and waited.

UNCOMFORTABLE IN THE CRAMPED HOSPITAL BED AND my own skin, I rolled to my side and whacked my arm into the metal railing.

Pain raced up and down, hundreds of fire ants biting me from my fingers to my shoulder.

“Fuck! Stupid fucking thing!”

Might as well be in a damn coffin. I pushed my hair out of my eyes and sank into the concrete pillows.

Then I saw him leaning against the doorjamb.

My heart did that swoop-roll-flip thing.

“Problems, blondie?”

I growled.

He sauntered in and melted into a silhouette.

“I called you hours ago.” Didn’t I sound like a fish-wife?

“Sorry. We installed the new enforcer tonight. Couldn’t get away until now.”

“Who was the lucky winner?”

“Guy named Jackal from Colorado.”

“
Jackal
? First or last name?”

In the dark, Martinez’s white teeth flashed. “Only name.” His smile dimmed. “You wanted to talk about wrapping up the case?”