A Game of Murder (23 page)

She headed to her bedroom and started throwing clothes in an overnight bag. She had to take a chance and go to the one person who might be able to help her.

“Eat your peas, buddy.” John had been trying to coax Luke into eating the vegetables for the past ten minutes. The hamburger and oven fries disappeared from his plate long ago, but Luke was balking at finishing the rest of his meal.

“Want cookies.” He put his fists, thumbs up, on the table, one hand holding his fork like a spear. Luke’s face was as stubborn as the position of his hands.

“No cookies until you finish your vegetables.” It had come to a battle of wills. John didn’t believe in letting a child win. He did, however, regret his choice for this meal. Corn or salad would probably not have resulted in the stand-off.

Luke frowned. Just as John was about to carry him off to his room and put him to bed, an urgent knocking came from the front door. Blue raised his head from his paws, roused himself from his nap on the kitchen floor, and barked to let John know he was awake and ready to protect them.

Who could that be? If a member of his congregation needed him, they would have called. It must be one of his neighbors. But why? Anxiety tightened his gut. He hoped the interruption didn’t mean a fire or a gas leak or some other emergency.

“Stay here,” John told Luke firmly as he got to his feet. “I’ll be right back.”

He hastened down the hall, Blue following, turned the lock and opened the door, not knowing what to expect. Whatever his expectations, what awaited him wasn’t one of them.

Faith stood there, a scuffed suitcase by her side, a cat carrier in her left hand. “Hi.” Her voice wobbled.

His heart thudded in his chest. “Hi.”

Her lips tried to form a smile, but didn’t quite succeed. She ran her tongue, unconsciously provocative, over her lips, and tried again. The result was only marginally better. “Can I come in?”

“Faith!” Luke’s excited voice came from behind him before he could answer her. John turned toward his son, ready to order him back into the kitchen. The angry, stubborn look of a few minutes ago had been replaced by a smile and arms held out in welcome. John’s resolve softened.

“Hi, Luke,” she said, then arched her eyebrows at John in a questioning look.

He pulled the door wider, but said nothing. He didn’t trust his voice.
Why had she come here? What was the suitcase for?

She picked up her suitcase and entered the apartment. A hissing came from the cat carrier as Blue sniffed at the wire door.

John grabbed Blue’s collar and pulled him back. He felt unsettled enough without disruptions from cat, dog, and son. Faith walked by him, put her things down long enough to give Luke a hug, then picked them up and continued to the living room. She stood near the sofa. Blue tugged at his hand.

“Let me put Blue in the bedroom and get Luke settled.” He guided the dog to his bedroom, shut the door, and prayed Blue would settle down long enough for him to find out what Faith wanted. And what he was going to do about it. Once Blue was secure, he returned to the living room. Luke was telling Faith about his day at nursery school. Not sure he wanted the boy to overhear the impending conversation, John decided the battle of the peas would be postponed until another day. Pretending the earlier confrontation hadn’t taken place, John said, “Ready for some cookies and milk, buddy?”

“Yay!” Totally forgetting his storytelling, Luke hopped down from the couch and ran toward the kitchen.

As John poured milk in a glass and put three cookies on a plate, he tried to puzzle out why Faith had shown up tonight.
Was Faith leaving town? Permanently? Did she come to say good-bye?
A dull ache started in his chest. His unsteady hand put the milk and cookies in front of Luke. “Here you go.” He tousled Luke’s hair, stalling. “I’m going to talk to Faith for a minute.”

Luke grabbed a cookie and took a bite. John returned to the living room.

Faith remained standing, fingering the gold cross that hung at her throat.

“Why don’t you sit down?” John eased into his chair and waited for her to speak.

Faith sat. Her hands fluttered like two little birds, as if she didn’t know what to do with them, finally coming to rest on her thighs. “If I’d known Luke was here, I wouldn’t have come. But I have no one else to turn to.” She licked her lips again.

He had no idea what she was talking about, but it sounded serious. “What’s going on?”

She told him about the threats, about Hope’s refusal to take her in, about her call to the police, about her address posted online. A surge of heat swept through his body. Sweat broke out on his brow. He knew about her stepfather’s abuse, understood how the threats must have frightened her.

“I’m afraid to stay in my house alone,” she said. “I was hoping I could stay with you.”

Anguish tore at his chest, digging an aching hole into it. He was about to respond when she jumped in again.

She held out her hands, palms up, and implored him. “I know we’re not together any more and our relationship is over, but I hoped I could stay here. Sleep on your couch or something.”

He wanted to help her, to hold her, protect her. The sound of Luke babbling in the other room reminded him of why he couldn’t, especially in light of the upcoming custody battle. If Roni found out… “I’m sorry, Faith. As a minister, I can’t allow a woman I’m not married to stay overnight. As a father, I can’t risk that these people will find out you’re here. Didn’t you hear me when I told you I couldn’t put Luke in jeopardy?”

Her voice was thick when she answered. “I know. I heard you. I’m sorry I came. I won’t bother you any more.” She rose to her feet and picked up her suitcase and the cat carrier, slowly, laboredly, as if they were made of cement.

“Where will you go?” A fist squeezed his heart and he fought the urge to tell her he’d changed his mind, he didn’t care what else happened, she could stay with him as long as she needed to.
Please, God. Give me strength. And please keep her safe.

“I’ll figure out something.” She didn’t wait for a response, but headed down the hall, head down, shoulders slouched.

He followed after her, his hands longing to reach out for her, his heart breaking all over again. She fumbled at the lock, and he reached past her to open it. As she started down the stairs, he called out behind her, “Be careful.”
 

It sounded so hollow.
 

Faith grimaced as her car hit yet another rut on the rough dirt road. The failing light disguised the bumps, ruts, and potholes, hiding them from her vision. The irregularities became apparent only when she was almost on top of them. The roughness of the road wasn’t her only problem. She’d almost missed the turnoff from X9 Ranch Road in the shadowy twilight.

Her Honda didn’t have half the clearance of John’s truck, which was the way she’d traveled this route before. Twice she heard—and felt—the scrape of her muffler on the sand as the car bottomed out. She lifted her foot off the gas, slowing as she squinted up ahead. What obstacle waited for her there?

Her foot hit the brake hard. A dip plummeted before her. Rocks littered the depression, big enough that one would probably dent—or puncture—her gas tank if she dared to drive into the cavity.

Remembering a wider section of the road she’d passed not too long ago, Faith put the car into reverse and slowly backed up. The higher edges on the side served as a guide, if not by sight, at least when she bumped into them. Her heart thudded as she hoped she wouldn’t get stuck before reaching the turnaround point.

A pitiful sound came from beside her. “Meow.”

Apparently she wasn’t the only one who was frightened. “It’s okay, Pixel. We’ll be there soon.”

Relief flowed over her when she at last got to the remembered location and angled the car off to the side of the road. She would walk from here.

She got her suitcase out of the backseat, wishing she’d thought to use a backpack instead. At least she was sensibly dressed in jeans and sneakers for her hike. She pulled the cat carrier out of the other side of the car, then hit the button to lock the doors. She almost laughed. Who was she locking her car against this far into nowhere? But the habits of a city girl die hard, and it wouldn’t hurt to lock the doors. Bowed under the weight of cat and suitcase, she trudged down the dirt road.

The way wasn’t much easier on foot. Once she stepped into a hole, hidden by a rock’s shadow; another time a lizard scuttled across her path, frightening her. It could have been worse. It could have been a rattlesnake.

A quarter moon hung in the southwest sky, the evening star—Saturn this time of year, if she remembered correctly—slightly below it. The yips of a pack of coyotes sent shivers rippling through her.

What seemed like an eternity later, she reached the tire house. Sweat streamed down her face, and she put down her burdens so she could wipe her forehead and keep the salt out of her eyes. Only then did she notice how much she was huffing and puffing.

Now, where did John say he kept the spare key?

She left the suitcase and cat carrier in front of the door and stumbled over to the “thinking rock.” Memories of the first time John led her here assaulted her, how they sat beside one another, and she shared with him the first of her many secrets. The tears that had subsided in her determination to reach her last refuge welled up in her eyes again. Not yet, Faith, she told herself. First you have to get inside. Where you’ll be safe.

She found the metal key case fastened under the lip of the rock, slid it open, and retrieved the key. Ran away from the rock and the memories.

After she unlocked the door and went inside, Faith opened the cat carrier and let Pixel out. The cat promptly began his examination of their new quarters, sniffing every surface and poking into every corner. While Pixel explored, Faith went into the kitchen area and turned on the electric lantern. Banishing the shadows made her feel better and, for the first time in hours, she breathed easily.

The chances of her tormenters finding her here were practically non-existent. None of the gamers knew the tire house existed, much less that she’d chosen to come here.

That reassurance reminded her of something else. No one knew where she was. No one would think to look for her here if they needed her or discovered she was missing. She sank into one of the chairs and pulled out her cell phone.

“Hey, girlfriend. Are you all right?” Hope asked anxiously. The sound of conversation and the clatter of dishes murmured in the background.

“I am now,” Faith said. “Are you still at work?”

“Yes. Don’t you remember? You post the schedule on the website every month. There’s a concert tonight.”

“Sorry. I barely read the schedules nowadays. Too many things on my mind and too many websites to work on.” Pixel hopped into her lap, looking for some petting.

“Why don’t you come down? I think you’d like this group. And you wouldn’t be at home alone.”

Faith laughed. “That would be a bit difficult. I’m out at the tire house.”

“The tire house? What are you doing there?” Hope sounded worried.

“Hiding.” Stroking the cat’s soft fur brought Faith, as well as Pixel, comfort.

“But it’s so isolated. No one’s around.”

“Exactly the reason I came here. Who would think of looking for me out in the desert?”

“You’re probably right about that, but I still don’t like the idea of you being all alone there.”

“I’m perfectly safe. I’ll stay a few days, let the police have a chance to track down whoever is leaving the threats against me. Then I’ll come back to Tucson.” Faith wondered if Hope bought her bravado.

“I don’t know…” Hope paused, and Faith started to wonder if coming here had been such a good idea after all. “Listen,” Hope said after a few seconds, “I’ve got to go. Call me in the morning and let me know you’re still okay?”

“Of course. But I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Only she wasn’t quite as sure as before she made the call.

* * *

Faith stared into the dark, wondering where she was for a moment. She felt chilled under the thin blanket, and her back complained about the hard surface she lay on. Then she remembered the blanket was a sleeping bag and the surface was the floor of the tire house. No wonder her body ached.

Pixel lay between her feet, head raised, ears pricked up. His glow-in-the-dark eyes stared back at her. She changed position, trying not to disturb the cat in the process, closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

A clattering came from outside, and Faith’s eyes opened in response.
What was that?
As if in answer, a grunt and a creaking noise followed.

Was someone trying to break in? Heart thudding in her chest, Faith sat up and fumbled for her flip-flops. She found them on the floor beside her, got to her feet, and slipped them on. Pixel, disturbed by her movements, stood sleepily and rubbed up against her ankle. She stood in the dark, ears straining. Quiet now, she wondered if she imagined the sounds.

No. Another grunt, more banging and clatter from the front of the house. Pixel alerted, stared at the door, then scooted down the hallway to hide. Faith wondered if she should do the same. But the hallway was a dead end.

Blood roared in her ears. The weight on her chest made it hard to breathe. She needed to know who was outside. She needed to get to the greenhouse window.

She couldn’t see much, even though her eyes had adapted to the darkness. Light. She needed light.

The lantern stood on the table, maybe ten steps away from where she stood. Could she find it without falling and breaking something? She had to try.

She swallowed, trying to work up some saliva in her dry mouth, hoping the beating of her heart wasn’t audible to whoever was outside. As far as she remembered, the floor was clear between her and the lantern. She slid one foot forward, then the other. Pale rainbow light coming through the colored bottles embedded in the wall guided her way.

She took another step. And another. Step by cautious step at last she reached the table, saw the silhouette of the lantern on top of it, fumbled for the switch to turn it on. She sighed as the soft glow encircled her. Much better.