2000 Kisses (36 page)

“He doesn't like strangers.” Graystone's eyes narrowed. “He gets that from me. What kind of questions do you want to ask? If you're looking for our building permits and property deeds, they're all in order. Our children have been vaccinated and our plumbing works.” His face hardened. “If you plan to search, you'll need a warrant.”

“Things look orderly.” T.J. turned, running a hand along the smooth wall of painted adobe. “Nice work. Is it straw bale construction?”

“You know about that?”

“I used it in my own house. There's no better form of insulation for the money. Recycles resources, too.”

Graystone nodded. “Soon the resources will be gone. People will have only what they grow or make with
their own hands. We're prepared, Sheriff. Are you?” he demanded.

Before T J. could answer, Graystone gestured toward the steps. “Come with me.”

The interior of the house was hung with bright textiles of desert landscapes and abstract patterns. There was order and careful design, but too much rigidity to suit T.J. He touched a bronze figure of a Kachina.

“That's my wife's work. She's off in Santa Fe teaching a class right now.” Graystone stared out the window. “I didn't want her to go but she insisted.”

T.J. touched the fine detail of the figure's mask. “I have some of her work.”

Graystone's brow rose. “You do?”

“Storm Dancer.
It's one of my favorite pieces. I had no idea she was here.”

“We live simply here, and Marina doesn't care for visitors.”

T.J. suspected that Graystone didn't either, especially when they came to see his wife and not him. There was a large ego at work beneath those shifting eyes. It took more than luck for a man to make his first million by the age of twenty-two the way Graystone had.

T.J. swept a glance over the rest of the room. “Do you get a lot of visitors up here?”

“A dozen or so every week. Mostly kids out to stare at the weirdos. But they'll soon see that we are right.”

T.J. fingered a bright tapestry of masked figures holding stalks of corn. “I don't suppose you have any drugs here.”

Graystone's shoulders tensed. “Old tools for an old world. We have no need of your numbing pills up here, Sheriff. Now, is that all of the interrogation?”

“Not quite. Have you seen any dead coyotes in die area?”

T.J. watched the man's face for any change in expression.

The survivalist shrugged. “Several. They were pretty badly eaten by the vultures when we found them.”

If he was altar, he was a good one, TJ, decided. “Have you seen anyone up near the Needle?”

“We've seen what could be lights. Or it might be the sun's reflection off metal. Nothing that stays in one place. Why?”

T.J. ignored the question. “Has anyone been up here asking questions in the last week?”

“Someone was here yesterday. Two men. They wanted to know if there had been a woman here in the last few days.”

TJ. felt his muscles tense. “Did they give her name?”

Graystone shrugged. “They said she was from back east and driving some expensive car that she'd stolen from them.” He moved to the door and called out.

A young man with fluorescent Oakley sunglasses trotted into the room and brightened as Graystone rapped out a question. “Car? Yeah, I saw it, Adam—a baby-blue Mercedes CLK300. I saw her about five days ago over near the interstate.”

TJ. managed to keep his voice steady. “Did you tell diem that?”

“Sure.”

Graystone looked at TJ. “Is something wrong?”

“Could be.” TJ. stood up to leave. “If anyone else comes around asking questions, I'd appreciate it if you let me know. You might want to get their license plate,
too. Here's the number where you can reach me.” He handed over a card.

Graystone fingered the card, frowning. “That woman you mentioned. Is she in some kind of trouble?”

T. J. looked to the south. The sun was a ball of white over the mountains, and the wind blowing in off the wash carried the scent of sand and dead sage. “I'm afraid so.”

“We're all in trouble,” Graystone said flatly. “There will be more deaths like those coyotes, only soon it will be people. Then the time of madness will be upon us all.”

There wasn't much he could say to that, so T.J. didn't try. With a tip of his hat, he left, Miguel beside him.

They were walking along the porch, when T.J. saw a truck being unloaded.

“Delivery day?”

Graystone nodded. “We have our supplies trucked in. It's cheaper that way. We buy in bulk with a group order.” Just beyond the courtyard, four people were busy lifting boxes and metal drums.

T.J. studied the boxes marked with names of standard brands of canned goods. Then he noticed a small metal drum standing at one side of the truck. It was covered with wire, but the red letters were visible. So was the universal symbol for danger.

“You keep poison on your grocery list?”

Graystone made an irritated sound. “That was delivered by mistake. We found it this morning.”

“That poison is rare. You could kill a lot of prairie dogs with a can that size.” He watched Graystone's face. “Or coyotes.”

The man's expression didn't change. “It's not ours. Do you think we need that up here? More poison in a
world that's already half dead?” He turned away without another word.

In the car, with Miguel silent beside him, T.J. mentally reviewed the visit, but nothing became clearer. He glanced at Miguel. “Did you pick up anything unusual?”

“There were tracks of a truck near the delivery area. There were prints of many boots. But there were also the tracks of a horse. One single horse, separate from those in the corral.”

“You think someone carried the poison in by horse and left it there without being seen?”

“It is for you to judge the law.” Miguel's mouth tightened as he fingered the heavy buckle at his waist. “I can tell you only what I have seen.”

Andrew O'Mara scowled as he stared at the phone.

He had just skirted insubordination for the third time, and the result had been exactly the same.

From the start it had been agreed: allow the criminals to complete one transaction on the Atlanta account. Then, when they tried to remove the funds, field agents would close in and apprehend them.

Unfortunately, another department had taken control of the operation. As a result, the plan had just changed. Now the Atlanta account was sealed tight. There were to be no chances that the money could slip through their fingers.

With the Atlanta account sealed, Andrew O'Mara knew who would be next on the target list.

Tess.

He kicked his garbage can across the room, watching paper explode over the floor. January sleet streaked down
the office windows overlooking Connecticut Avenue. Pedestrians bent beneath dark umbrellas, moving in a silent stream.

Maybe it was time he took a vacation in the desert.

Just in case.

W
hile T.J. was tied up with his official duties, Tess paced the courtyard. She'd read the
Almost Gazette
twice. Then she'd tried Andrew, only to reach his voice mail. She'd skimmed and reskimmed her one copy of
The Wall Street Journal.

After that, she stared at the phone, valiantly fighting an urge to call Annie and find out how things were going in Boston. At twenty minutes to twelve, she gave up the fight and dialed.

“Tess, thank heavens you called! Where in the world are you?”

“Somewhere quiet,” Tess said evasively. “I decided I needed a rest after all that cruise work. How are things there?”

“Wholesale mutiny, that's how. You'd better grab a seat on the next airplane from wherever you are, because two of your high-profile passengers have left the cruise and five more are threatening to leave when the boat docks in New Orleans tomorrow. The berths have been mixed up, the captain has juggled the ports of call, and the champagne appears to have been lost.”

“Impossible.” Tess gasped at the thought of all her months of careful planning gone awry. “What does Richard say?”

“We haven't been able to reach Richard. But the cruise director swears that we'll have a shipload of furious passengers if you don't get down to New Orleans fast and pour oil on those troubled waters.”

TJ.'s warnings filled Tess's head. “But—”

“But
whatl
This is your baby, Tess, and the baby's in trouble. This could be our first and last cruise venture.” Her assistant's voice fell. “There's even talk of litigation.”

“Litigation?” Her hands locked on the telephone. “Can't you go?”

“Out of the question. Now I'm due in Chicago to placate the chocolate people in six hours. You're the one with the cruise contacts and the people skills. It will take you a day, Tess, no more. Just stroke them a little in that special way of yours.”

New Orleans wasn't that far, Tess thought. She could be in and out the same day. “Well, I suppose I could—”

“So you'll go?” Annie asked breathlessly. “Where are you, by the way?”

“Somewhere you've never heard of,” Tess murmured. “Annie, I don't think this is such a good idea.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?”

Tess swallowed. “Not really.” She grimaced at the lie. “It's just not convenient for me to travel right now.”

“Have you met a man?” Annie asked.

“No. TTiat is, it's not what you think.”

“My advice is for you to get on the first plane to New Orleans. Those passengers were out for blood, Tess. You'd better take a bulletproof vest in case things get worse before you reach the boat.”

“I'll keep it in mind.”

Tess hung up, then sat stiffly. To the east a bank of
clouds spilled over a jagged blue peak and rain darkened the horizon. She couldn't close her eyes and walk away from this problem. The cruise was her project from start to finish. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that Annie was right. Afew hours of soothing and stroking would do the trick. And she'd be very careful. She'd pay cash and she wouldn't even stay overnight.

She was reaching for the phone when it rang. She answered, expecting it to be T.J.

“Tess, it's Andrew. Where is T.J.?”

“He's at work.” Her body tightened. “Why?”

“I need to talk to him now. I think we've got a line on whoever broke into your apartment.”

“Wait.” The room seemed to sway, “Someone … broke into my apartment?” She swallowed hard. “T. J didn't tell me that.”

“He probably forgot.”

“Forgot?” Her hands opened and closed. “He forgot to tell me that my apartment was burglarized?” Fear was fast sliding into irritation. “When did it happen?”

“Probably two days ago, but we can't be sure. Whoever did it knew all the moves. We found out only because Mrs. Spinelli on the third floor wasn't expecting any flowers.”

“Mrs. Spinelli?” Fear closed in. “She wasn't hurt, was she?”

“She's fine, Tess. She said to say hello and that her cats miss you.”

Some of the panic slid away, but anger boiled up in its place. “How long has TJ. known about this?”

“Since yesterday. I called while you were sleeping after the hiking accident. How are you feeling, by the way? Still bruised?”

“I'm doing fine. At least I
was,”
she said grimly.

“Don't make a ease out of this, Tess. I'm sure McCall meant to fill you in. He probably got caught up in something else that demanded his attention first.”

“Right”
Like take me to bed and turn me inside out until I forget my own first name.

Tess drew a shaky breath. “He should have told me. You should have told me. I won't be left out in the cold, Andrew. I'm the one these people are after, remember?”

“I remember. That's why you're in Arizona right now—because TJ. and I are trying to keep you alive.” His voice hardened and Tess heard the snap of command that had brought him to the top of his profession in a little under ten years. He'd always had the cold stare, Tess realized. Now he had the voice to match.

“It was still wrong.”

“Forget the ethics. That's not part of the equation.”

“For me it is. How can I trust him if he lies to me?”

God help me, how can I share his bed and sigh his name until he makes me love him?