Long Time Gone (14 page)

Her father leaned back in his chair, staring at the bottles in front of him. “That’s how we used to do it, you know. Me and Ciro, sometimes Carmen. We’d sit down and try two or three bottles, figure out if it was right yet. If we needed to try a different blend. It’s all a matter of taste, you know. You can’t do it by machine.”

Morgan pushed her lips into a smile. Ciro and Carmen would never do that with her, or if they did, they’d never listen to her opinion. Why should they? Even her own father didn’t trust her judgment. “Yes, Dad, I know. And your palate is better than anyone’s. But we really need this wine now.”

Her father sighed. “Pour me a sample of each, then. But I’m not making any promises.”

The ache that had begun in her throat eased slightly. “No, Dad, I know you’re not. Just give it a try.”

Leila Barrett arrived at her husband’s house, which had once been her house as well, at five forty-five. The closing on the latest McMansion in the new development she was selling had been delayed for a couple of days and she’d gotten off early. She recognized Morgan’s SUV in the driveway and felt a quick surge of concern. What had gone wrong now?

The first thing she saw when she walked in the kitchen door was her husband and her daughter, sitting together at the table with two open bottles of wine between them.

Wine. Of course. It had to be wine.

Leila managed not to frown quite as ferociously as she wanted to. Ever since Cliff had developed his obsession with wine, she’d been trying to find a way to talk him out of it. The fact that he’d spent more time with the winery than he had with her over the past few years had led to their current separation, which might or might not become permanent, depending on whether the old coot could bring himself to appreciate his wife as much as his latest release. Now he’d managed to drag their daughter into this insanity, this endless money-sink of a winery. Every time Leila thought about it, she started grinding her teeth. Her dentist had threatened to fit her with a harness to keep her from grinding them down to nubs in her sleep.

She stared critically at her daughter’s profile, just visible through the kitchen door. She had dark circles under her eyes, and she was developing crow’s feet. Leila adjusted the jacket of her Talbots suit over the slight spread of her hips. She’d also be willing to bet Morgan wasn’t eating right.

After a moment to let her exasperation settle, she walked into the kitchen, smile firmly in place. “Sweetie! How wonderful to see you! I thought that was your SUV out front.”

At close range, she thought Morgan looked worse than she had from a distance. She had hollows under her cheekbones, and her eyes were tired. Silently, Leila cursed Cedar Creek, Cliff’s accident and wine in general. She didn’t care how good the stupid vintage was, it wasn’t worth wearing her daughter to a frazzle.

“You’ll stay over tonight, won’t you? Too late to be heading back to the hills today, especially since you’ve been imbibing.” Leila waggled her eyebrows in what she hoped was a comical way. Given Morgan’s current weight, a half bottle of wine would boost her over the blood-alcohol limit in two seconds flat. “If Cliff can’t put you up here, you can stay at the condo with me.”

Morgan hugged her, and Leila swore she could feel every bone in her daughter’s body. “Hi, Mom. I didn’t really drink all of this. Dad did most of it.”

Leila narrowed her eyes at her husband. Cliff wasn’t in much better shape than Morgan was. She’d tried to ration him to two glasses of wine a night.

He shook his head, grimacing. “Don’t worry, warden, I spat most of it out. Merely sipping for test purposes.”

“So what’s the verdict, Dad?”

Beneath Leila’s hands, Morgan’s shoulders seemed awfully tense for a family visit. Leila raised an eyebrow. “What are the two of you up to now?”

“Wine business.” Cliff kept his gaze on Morgan. “Okay, Morg, I agree on the sangiovese—it’s ready to go. But the primitivo needs at least a couple more weeks.”

Morgan’s shoulders relaxed, and she gave her father a brilliant smile. Leila felt her heart contract. Her daughter really was a beautiful woman.

If only she didn’t look so tired! At this rate she’d be worn down to a wisp before she found Mr. Right. Leila put her arm around Morgan’s shoulders and nudged her toward the refrigerator. “Just give me a chance to fatten you up a little, sweetie. Then you can go back tomorrow. Cedar Creek can survive without you for a night.” Cedar Creek could survive without Morgan indefinitely if Leila had anything to say about it.

Across the room, Cliff stood slowly, reaching for his cane. Leila looked away quickly. Seeing him limp across the kitchen always twisted her heart. And she couldn’t afford to feel sorry for him—it might cloud her judgment so that she’d end up living with him again, taking second place to that damned winery. “Cliff, do you want anything special for supper?”

He sighed. “Nope. I’m going to take a nap for a half hour or so. That should give the two of you time to discuss me.”

Leila stifled the impulse to help him up the stairs. “Take as long as you want. Once we finish with you, we’ll move on to something more interesting.” She heard his snort as he moved through the door. At least the old coot still knew how to laugh.

Morgan didn’t, judging from her expression as she watched her father hobble toward the stairs.

“Believe it or not, he’s doing much better now.” Leila turned back to check the freezer. “His doctor says he can start driving in another few days.”

Morgan gave her a dry smile. “Which means he’ll be coming up to Cedar Creek the day after the doctor lets him start.”

“Exactly.” Leila pulled out a frozen pizza, along with a bag of lettuce from the hydrator. “We’ll have some pizza, baby. Lots of cheese and pepperoni. At least when Cliff starts going to that damned winery again, he can take over some of the work you’re doing. Anything that doesn’t require moving around too much, that is.”

Morgan shrugged. “I’m okay, Mom. Don’t worry about me.”

Leila felt her jaws tightening again. Harness time. She turned to look at her daughter, hands on hips. “Morgan Elizabeth Barrett, you are not ‘okay’. You look like you’re ready to drop in your tracks. And you’ve lost so much weight they’re going to start putting your picture on the cover of the tabloids along with all those damn fool starlets who starve themselves. Don’t you dare tell me not to worry. I’m your mother.”

For a long moment, Morgan stood, blinking. Then she sank into one of the kitchen chairs, rubbing her hands against her temples. “All right, I’m tired. And I need to be more careful about what I eat. I told Dad I’d manage the winery until he was back on his feet, and that’s what I’m doing.”

Leila considered whether to hug her or shake her until her teeth rattled. She decided on the hug, just a quick one across Morgan’s shoulders. “You can let other people do things, you know. As a matter of fact, Ciro and Carmen could probably run that place on their own. Your dad just wanted to keep his hand in, so he picked on you. But I don’t think he realized what he was asking you to take on, baby. You’ve had to learn things in a year that it took him ten years to learn himself.”

Morgan looked up at her, smiling with tired eyes that made Leila’s heart ache. “Why didn’t Dad just let Ciro take over the whole operation in the first place? He’s a lot more qualified than I am.”

Leila blew out a breath. “I’m not sure, baby. He may have wanted you to get involved in the day-to-day routine of the place. I think he hopes you’ll take over his share of Cedar Creek some day, that you’ll love it as much as he does.”

Leila glanced at Morgan in time to see the panic in her eyes.
Oh good lord.
Was Cliff’s vision of her daughter’s future that much of a nightmare?

Leila patted her on the shoulder, leaning back against the counter. “Let’s not think about your father and what he wants for a minute. What do you want to do, sweetheart? Do you really want to run Cedar Creek?”

“I’m not sure anymore. I thought if I took over as manager, I could finally show Dad I wasn’t a complete lightweight. I know he’s always been disappointed that I didn’t major in chemistry or agriculture—something that could have helped at the winery.”

Leila picked up the bag of lettuce and started for the sink. It kept her from grinding her teeth again. “You’ve never been a lightweight, Morgan. And you did major in something that could help at that damned place. Lord knows Cedar Creek could use some marketing. It’s not your fault your father’s too pigheaded to see it.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Morgan smiled and Leila felt her heart contract again.
Damn you, Cliff Barrett. And damn Cedar Creek.

She pulled the pizza out of its plastic bag. Time to shift gears. “So what’s new in Konigsburg? Any interesting people?”

Behind her, she heard Morgan yawn. “We had a bunch of bikers last week for a rally, but I wouldn’t call them interesting exactly. Other than that, not much is going on. Except for Arthur, that is.”

“What about Arthur?” Leila turned on the oven for the pizza and began dividing the lettuce into bowls.

“He got into some oil somewhere. The vet had to shave off some of his fur to clean him up.”

“Mercy.” Leila was operating on autopilot now, half listening while she looked for a tomato in the refrigerator. “So who’s keeping track of him while you’re gone? Ciro and Carmen?”

Morgan didn’t answer for a moment. Leila looked up and caught her expression—guarded, maybe even a little guilty.

“No, he’s staying with a friend of mine until some of the fur grows back. The vet said it may take a few days.”

“A friend?” Leila’s radar shifted into high beam. “You mean that nice lady who owns the bakery?”

Morgan picked at her cuticle, just as she had when she was little and wanted to avoid direct eye contact with her mother. “No. Just a friend.”

Just a friend. Interesting.
“Anyone I know?”

Morgan lifted her gaze for a moment, her expression deliberately bland. “I don’t believe so.”

Obviously subtlety wasn’t working. “A male friend?”

Morgan’s mouth narrowed to a thin line. “Yes, Mom, and that’s all I’m going to say about it. Okay?”

Leila laid the pizza onto the oven rack jauntily. All of a sudden she felt a lot more optimistic than she had only a few moments before. “Of course, honey. My lips are sealed.”

She walked to the kitchen table and the two bottles of wine left over from Cliff’s taste test. Normally, she refused to drink wine as an expression of her dislike for the whole Cedar Creek experience. On the other hand… She picked up a glass.

“Which of these bottles did Cliff decide was good?”

Morgan stared at her openmouthed, then pointed to the bottle on the left. “You’re drinking wine, Mom?”

Leila smiled, pouring herself a healthy tipple. “Yes, ma’am. All of sudden I feel like having a little celebration.” She lifted her glass. “To Arthur. And his speedy recovery.”
Only not too speedy, please.

Chapter Thirteen

The TCEQ officer, Andy Wells, left early in the afternoon to break the uniformly bad news to Joe Powell—who then spent twenty blistering minutes on the phone with Erik. At five, he tried calling Cedar Creek, only to have Kit tell him that Morgan was in Austin.

He ate dinner with Arthur, not exactly the evening he’d planned.

The next day he spent the morning talking to various state agencies about illegal dumping, then devoted the afternoon to nosing around Powell’s pasture with Nando. They found a lot of limestone, cedar bushes, nopal cactus and goat crap.

“Remind me again, what are we doing out here?” Nando asked him.

Erik wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought he’d know the answer when he saw it. “Looking for oil,” he muttered. “Or something that resembles it.”

They finally found it near a sharp limestone outcropping around a hundred yards from the stock tank—a large irregular black circle on the ground.

Nando stared down at it, eyes narrowed. “Smells nasty.”

Very nasty. Erik walked carefully around the edge. Double tire tracks ran across the far side. He knelt beside them. The last big rain had been a couple of weeks ago. Something heavy had driven through the mud. If he’d been working for a big-time department, he could have had a lab tech take impressions, but in Konigsburg he was on his own, unless he wanted to get Pittman to pay for the county lab.

Right. When they’re ice-skating in hell.
He pulled out his camera and began snapping shots.

Nando stood at his shoulder, staring down at the tracks. “Heavy sucker.”

“Yeah. Fair-sized truck, most likely.” Erik knelt down to get a better angle for the camera.

“You suppose they drove that thing up here over the same road we used?”

Erik thought about it. Anybody who drove a large truck over that road ran the risk of being seen by Powell or one of his ranch hands. “Maybe at night.”

Nando shuddered. “Scary thought.”

“Yeah. Maybe they do it in late afternoon or evening. After Powell’s hands head for home.” And then he stopped, staring at the black spot.

Morgan had been pushed down the hill in late afternoon. He rose slowly to his feet, staring back at the hillside where he’d found her.

Damn!
She must have been walking around the pasture while the dumper was still up there. Maybe she’d scared him. Maybe he’d tried to get rid of her so he could get away without being seen.

Erik felt his gut clench.
Tried to get rid of her.
He scanned the steep limestone outcroppings at the back of the pasture. “There must be another road up here.”

Nando frowned. “Lots of roads all over these hills.”

“Yeah, but this one has to lead up here from somewhere other than Powell’s ranch.” Erik followed the scar running through the grass, the mark of the double tires.

They found the break between the limestone cliffs a few hundred yards farther on. The road dropped down steeply on the other side.

Nando whistled softly. “Hell of a drop.”

Erik nodded. “But it doesn’t run directly by Powell’s place. Less chance of being seen. And it looks a little smoother than the one we took.”

Nando shrugged. “Even if the driver didn’t go by Powell’s place, somebody might still have seen him. Big truck to be rolling around the back country.”

Erik surveyed the countryside. Clumps of cedar and live oak, limestone crags, white dots that could either be boulders or goats. To the east, neat cultivated rows and a distant building. A familiar distant building.

Cedar Creek Winery.

“Well, hell,” he muttered.

Nando grinned. “Hey that’s good. Maybe somebody down there saw the truck.”

“I hope so.” Better than the other possibilities that had occurred to him.

They drove back down on the road they’d driven up rather than trying to follow the dumper’s steep path. “He must have come up here at least twice,” Erik explained as he negotiated around some truck-killer potholes. “The first time he dumped a load in the stock tank. The second time he dumped it on the ground—maybe because Powell had chicken wire around the stock tank by then.”

And Morgan had almost seen him the second time. In fact, maybe she actually had seen him without realizing it. So the bastard had thrown her down the hill.

Erik would find that goddamned truck if it took him the rest of his time in Konigsburg. And then he would turn the driver over to Helen Kretschmer for re-education after he’d undertaken some general ass-kicking of his own.

As he pulled into the winery parking lot, he realized he was looking for Morgan’s SUV—and not seeing it. He felt a quick stab of disappointment.

Nobody was inside the tasting room when they first walked in, but the door to the office swung open and Kit Maldonado walked out.

Nando grinned. “Hey,
chica
. You seen any big trucks coming down from the hills within the last couple of weeks or so?”

“How big?” Kit frowned, one wrinkle marring her smooth forehead. “You mean like those extended cab things?”

Nando shook his head. “Not a pickup. More like delivery trucks, commercial stuff.”

Kit shrugged. “Not that I recall. But I can’t really see the main road in here, just the hills.”

Erik turned to look out the window with its view of the vineyards. He could just see the line of the dirt road from Powell’s pasture across a hill to the left, alongside what Morgan had called the Cynthiana vineyard. “Have you ever seen anybody driving way back there above the vineyard?”

Kit frowned again. At this rate, those wrinkles were going to make her look at least nineteen by the end of the day. “A truck coming down over there? No. Not that I remember.”

“What truck? Where?” Ciro Avrogado walked in carrying a case of wine. He glared at his son. “What are you doing here?”

Nando grinned back easily. “Being a cop. You seen any trucks come down that road from Powell’s during the last couple of weeks, Pop?”

Ciro squinted toward the window. “That road? What damn fool would take his truck down that? It’s a goat track.”

Ciro scowled in Erik’s general direction. Erik smiled back. “This particular damn fool went down it twice. The second time was the day Morgan got hurt at Powell’s pasture.”

Ciro’s gaze sharpened. “Was he the one who hurt her?”

Erik shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll know when we talk to him.”

Ciro looked back out at the hillside, then shook his head. “I haven’t seen anybody up there, but I might not notice. We’re pretty busy this time of year getting the grapes in. You might ask Esteban, though. He’s out in the yard more than I am. He might have seen something.”

“Who did what to Morgan?” Kit was frowning again. “I thought she fell down the hill.”

“She did. But she might have had some help.”

Kit stared at him wide-eyed as the tasting room door swung open and the subject of the conversation walked in. Four pairs of eyes immediately swung her way.

“What?” Morgan’s eyes widened and she glanced down at her hands. “Did I spill something on myself?”

Ciro walked over to her, ignoring Erik and Nando. “What’s the verdict on the wine?”

“The sangiovese is a go. He wants to wait a couple of weeks on the primitivo.”

Ciro nodded. “Right. I figured that would be it. Labeling time.” He rubbed his hands together, smiling as he turned to Nando. “Good thing you’re here. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

Nando shook his head. “I’m still on duty, Pop. And I need to go back to town for my truck.”

Ciro narrowed his eyes, then turned to Morgan.

She groaned. “Not this afternoon, please. I just got back from Austin. I’ll work on it tomorrow, I promise.”

Erik glanced at his watch, then put an arm around her shoulders. “C’mon. I’m off duty in ten minutes. You can come and visit Arthur.”

Three pairs of eyes nailed him to the wall. He suddenly felt like ducking.

“Where is Arthur that she needs to go visit him? Why isn’t he here where he belongs?” Ciro’s voice was heavy with suspicion.

“Arthur’s staying at Erik’s place until his fur grows back. I haven’t seen him in a couple of days. Let’s go.” Morgan turned back toward the door.

Kit gazed up at Nando with enough heat to start a small bonfire. “You want a ride back to town?”

Nando’s lips spread in a slow grin. “Sure.”

Erik glanced back at Ciro. “If you think of anything…”

“Yeah. Right.” Ciro was staring back and forth between Nando and Kit, his brow furrowing. Finally, he turned back toward the winery and shrugged. “I’ll get that labeling run set up. Maybe Esteban can start on it tonight.”

Checking on Arthur took maybe five minutes, largely because Arthur wasn’t much interested in being checked on. He glanced drowsily at Morgan, allowed her to scratch his ears, and then fell noisily asleep again. At that point, Erik realized he didn’t have any food in the house and his stomach was growling almost as noisily as Arthur was snoring. Not exactly the road to romance.

The Dew Drop was surprisingly empty when Morgan and Erik got there—Docia and Cal sat at a side booth, Biedermeier and a few other men hunched over their stools at the bar.

Morgan frowned as she slid in beside Docia. “Where is everybody?”

Docia shrugged. “Pete and Janie went to San Antonio for the weekend. Lars and Jess never come in anyway since they’ve got the kids to take care of. And ever since Kit moved in, Allie’s been spending most of her time at Wonder’s. She even cooks for him. I hear she got him to clean up his kitchen.”

Cal grinned. “Figures. Wonder will do anything to get Allie to cook. Besides, she’ll be living there full-time after they get married, right?”

“I don’t think they’ve decided where they’re going to live. Allie’s got a fantastic kitchen at her house. I don’t think Wonder will want her to give that up.”

Cal sipped his Dos Equis. “Wonder’s yard is better. Maybe they can alternate.”

Docia rolled her eyes but said nothing.

Erik raised an eyebrow at Morgan. “Hungry?”

“No, I had a sandwich with Mom before I left Austin. But I’d love something to drink.”

“Wine?”

Morgan’s lips curved upward. “Beer. I think I’m wined out.”

Erik got a Shiner and a Dr. Pepper from Ingstrom, along with a dubious-looking Frito pie. Good thing his stomach was used to crap. He settled in beside Cal, handing the Shiner to Morgan.

She smiled her thanks. “Why were you and Nando out at the winery this afternoon? Any trouble?”

Erik narrowed his eyes, trying to decide how much information to pass on in a public place. “We were doing some checking out at Powell’s. Do you remember a heavy truck up at the pasture the day you fell? I thought you said you heard one.”

Morgan frowned, shaking her head. “I heard a motor, something driving away, but I didn’t see anything. It could have been a heavy truck.”

Erik turned to Cal. “How about you?”

Cal shrugged. “Too busy carrying Morgan back up the hill. I didn’t see any truck there except yours.”

“Was someone there?” Morgan leaned forward, her brow furrowed.

“Maybe. Somebody had been there earlier, messing with the stock tank.”

“Somebody poisoned Powell’s stock tank?” Cal’s voice rose slightly. A couple of heads turned toward them from the bar.

Erik grimaced. “I don’t think it was somebody out to hurt Powell.” Although now that he thought about it, finding Joe Powell’s enemies might be easier than finding a dumper who’d chosen a “target of opportunity”. Given Powell’s tendency to fly off half-cocked at everybody who crossed his path, he must have left some disgruntled people in his wake.

Morgan’s eyes widened. “Was somebody actually trying to hurt me?”

Heads turned again. Erik gritted his teeth. “I don’t know. I’d guess not—I’d guess he was just trying to get away without you seeing him. So far as I can tell, nobody was trying to hurt anybody.” Except maybe some goats and the occasional cat.

Docia leaned her swollen body back against the booth, rubbing the small of her back. “Gee, this is getting interesting. Also totally confusing.”

Erik sighed. “Look, I can’t say much more about this. I just wanted to know if either of you saw anybody driving around out there.”

“No, but there’s more traffic back around Powell’s place than you’d think.” Cal sipped his beer. “Powell has his goat feed delivered, and hay for his horses. His ranch hands live in town, so they’re always coming and going. Hell, he gets FedEx and UPS just like the rest of us.”

Erik frowned. “So if you saw a truck back there when you were working with the goats…”

“I wouldn’t think anything about it. A Rolls-Royce I’d notice. A truck?” Cal shrugged. “Nah.”

The Frito pie was about as bad as Erik had feared. He ate half of it before giving up. Powell’s animals might not have been deliberately poisoned, but Ingstrom’s customers were in mortal danger.

Morgan smiled. “If you want, I can fix you something back at Cedar Creek. I think there’s some soup in the freezer.”

Erik dropped the remains of the Frito pie into the trash can on his way out. Ingstrom scowled at him.

The road to the winery was familiar by now. Erik drove on autopilot and spent most of the time watching Morgan when she wasn’t looking—and sometimes when she was.

“Can you tell me what’s going on at Powell’s, or do you have to keep it a secret?”

He sighed. “It involves you too, potentially. Somebody dumped some chemicals back in Powell’s pasture—stuff that’s supposed to be disposed of in a particular way.”

“So it was an accident? But why would someone be back there with chemicals?”

He shook his head. “Not an accident. Illegal dumping. Instead of contracting with a company that’s licensed to dispose of nasty stuff, you pay a dumper to take the stuff off your hands. Then the dumper takes it somewhere and gets rid of it.”

She stared at him, eyes wide. “But if it gets into the ground water, it could poison the water supply.”

“Yep.” He turned his gaze back to the road ahead. “Which is why I’d like to find this SOB. That and the fact he pushed you down that hill at Powell’s.”

Morgan sat frowning beside him. Her eyes looked dark again, like she’d just had another weight added to her shoulders. One more thing the dumper could take responsibility for. And Erik too, since he’d passed on the news.