A Game of Murder (25 page)

After dropping Luke off, his heart sore with the pain of separation, John made the drive to Faith’s east side neighborhood. The difference between the two areas was striking. Roni and Luke lived in an older, poorer neighborhood. Houses showed signs of disrepair, front yards often dirt and weeks, streets cracked and in need of repaving. Faith’s neighborhood, on the other hand, was comprised of newer homes, carefully kept yards laid out by landscapers, and well-maintained streets.

That train of thought made John feel guilty again. He wished he could afford a nice home in a nice area for Roni and Luke. As it was, he could barely afford the place they lived in now in addition to the rent on his own apartment.

Faith’s street was quiet, not unusual in the middle of the day, as he turned onto it and approached her address. Her house displayed no signs of being occupied. That was more unusual. He parked the truck and went up to the door, pushed the doorbell, and waited.

There was no response. After pushing the doorbell again, he added a series of firm knocks on the door itself, in case the bell wasn’t working. A silly thought. Someone who kept up their yard probably had a working doorbell.

Still no response. He looked up and down the street, wondering if any of her neighbors knew where Faith was. He knocked again.

She might be off at a client’s.

Who was he kidding? When he last saw her, she held a suitcase in one hand and Pixel in the other. Did she find a place to stay? His pulse quickened. Did she leave town? Or had the murderer gotten to her?

Where was she?

He had to know for sure. He could think of only one other place Faith went on a regular basis.

The Prickly Pear hummed with activity when he entered the café a few minutes later. The waitress Hope employed stood behind the counter with half a dozen people lined up in front of her. Hope was nowhere in sight.

Was she with Faith?
Before he could join the line and ask the waitress about Hope’s whereabouts, Hope herself came out of the back bearing a plate of food in each hand. Her eyes widened when she saw him. After she deposited the lunches on one of the tables, she came over, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Pastor John. So nice to see you. Why don’t you sit here”—she gestured toward one of the small tables—“and I’ll take your order.”

“I’m not here for lunch,” John said. He scanned the room, noticed how many tables were waiting for food, and chided himself for his timing.

“Oh?” Hope paused. “What can I do for you?” Her tone was wary.

“I could come back later.” Not that he wanted to. He’d already waited two days to find out where Faith was. He didn’t want to wait a minute more.

“That’s not necessary.” Hope glanced at a nearby table. The occupants scowled at her. “If you can make it quick.”

“Do you know where Faith is?” No point in easing into the topic. Hope didn’t have time for chitchat. Neither did he.

“I heard from her,” Hope said.

She hadn’t directly answered his question. “Is she somewhere safe?”

Hope stared out the window, as if she didn’t want to meet his eyes, before answering. “She doesn’t want me to tell you where she is. She’s still hurting.” She lowered her voice at the end.

John tried to ignore the tightness in his chest.
Me, too.
“We may have had a disagreement”—he couldn’t bear to say they broke up—“but I still care about her. I need to know she’s safe.” He waited a minute for Hope to respond. She didn’t. “Is she? Safe, I mean?”

“I think so.” Hope didn’t sound sure.

“Where is she?” he pleaded.

“I told you. She doesn’t want me to tell you where she is.” Anguish washed over her face. She wanted to tell him, but she didn’t want to break a promise.

If she couldn’t tell him directly, maybe she would tell him indirectly. He pursed his lips in thought. “Okay. Can you give me a hint? Something? Anything?”

It was Hope’s turn to think. “Let me say this. She’s somewhere outside of Tucson. Somewhere we’ve all been before. Me and you and Faith and Walt.” Hope shut her mouth tightly, stopped herself from saying anything more.

It took him a minute, but suddenly he knew exactly where to find Faith. “Thank you.”

* * *

Faith, empty-handed now, trudged back down the dirt road, having put the bag of cat litter and the litter box in the trunk of her car. After last night, it was obvious she’d be safer in the city than out here by herself. Even if she’d called 9-1-1 last night, how would she describe her location to the dispatcher? It wasn’t as if this narrow track appeared on any maps. Or even had a name. The only way they’d be able to locate her is if she kept her phone on. They could trace its inbuilt GPS signal.

So here she was, making the first trip with her stuff so she could follow it up with the second, which would lead to her driving back home. She and Pixel would take their chances in Tucson.

What was that?
Senses on overdrive, Faith thought she heard something not part of the natural sounds of the desert. She stopped in her tracks so the crunching of her feet in the sand wouldn’t mask whatever it was.

Her heart leapt to her throat. The sound of an engine purred in the distance. Even as she listened, she could tell it was getting closer. Panicked, she jumped out of the road, surveyed the nearby desert for a hiding place.
There!
Ten feet away grew a creosote bush, large enough to hide her behind its abundant foliage. The sound of the engine grew louder.

She ran for the bush, terrified her attacker from last night had returned to find her in daylight. Her legs ached as she forced them to run faster. She gasped air into her lungs. She heard the swish of the tires rotating through the coarse sand and gravel. The truck must be very close now. Faith skidded on loose pebbles as she darted behind the bush, tried to catch her balance by grabbing onto a branch just before she fell to her knees.

Her breath came in rapid wheezes, her heart pounded as if it would burst from her chest.
Pixel!
She’d forgotten about Pixel, still in the tire house, vulnerable to anyone who wanted to harm him.
Please keep him safe
she prayed.
Please help him hide so nothing happens to him.
Faith had no idea what she’d do if anything happened to the little cat. In a very short time he’d become precious to her, her comfort in the lonely hours of the night.

The engine roared closer. She peered through the branches, looking for the vehicle that was surely almost upon her. It crested a rise in the road, its unlit headlights two monstrous eyes reflecting the sun, flashbulbs exploding in her pupils, making her as sightless as they were, veiling the identity of her stalker. She could only hope the glare in his eyes was as great as the one in hers, hid her from him as effectively as he was hidden from her.

As the truck barreled on, the black spots in her vision faded, enabling her to make out more details of the vehicle. Her body sagged with relief as the monster morphed into a red Ford Ranger truck. John’s truck. With rebounded energy, she ran from behind the bush, waving her arms to catch his attention.

The truck rolled past her. Then, with a spray of sand and a glare of brake lights, came to a stop a few yards ahead. As she ran to it, the door swung open. John leaned over the seat to let her in.

Their eyes met and she stopped, thankful he’d come, afraid what his first words would be.

“You’re safe. Thank God,” he said.

“Yes.” Faith nodded. “Thank God.” She climbed in the truck and shut the door. Faith fastened the seat belt, focusing on the buckle so she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes.

“When I saw your car…”

Faith looked up and saw the mix of worry and relief in his eyes.

“I was afraid they’d taken you. Or worse.”

“He tried,” Faith said. “Someone came to the tire house last night. I was able to get to the composting bin closet and hide. Whoever it was didn’t think to look for a door.”

“Why are you going back?” John asked.

“To get my suitcase. And Pixel.”

John put the truck into drive and continued on the road. “What’s wrong with your car?”

“Nothing. Except my Honda rides too low to the ground, and there are too many ruts on this road. I was afraid I’d damage it, so I left my car at the turnaround and walked the rest of the way in. Remind me to buy a Jeep if I’m going to come out here very often.” His head swiveled in her direction, and she gave him a smile to let him know she was joking. Sort of.

He pulled up in front of the tire house. “He broke the greenhouse glass.”

“Yeah. I locked the door. He figured out another way in. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. If breaking the glass gave you time enough to hide, it’s worth the cost. Let’s get Pixel and get out of here.” He opened his door and jumped out before she could reply.

Faith followed John inside. Pixel came to greet them, rubbing up against John’s legs. He bent down and scratched behind the cat’s ears. Faith’s heart softened as she saw the gentleness of his touch and the expression on his face, as if he were close to tears. He’d come for her, ready to rescue her just like he had several times before. Did that mean they were a couple again? Did she want to be?

“John?”

He straightened and turned toward her, a question on his face in response to the one in her voice.

“Before we go back, we need to talk.”

John started to sigh, caught himself in the middle. “Can’t we go back to town first?”

“I don’t think so. I want to get things clear between us.”

“In that case, we’d better sit down.” He started to lead the way to the dining room table.

“I’d like to use the thinking rock,” Faith said.

John raised his eyebrows. When he lowered them, his features turned somber. He nodded and followed her outside.

Once they were seated, Faith wondered what to say first. Then she realized the starting point was simple. “Thank you for coming out after me. And thank you for caring enough to want to.”

“I couldn’t help myself,” John said earnestly. “I love you, Faith.”

Faith’s heart grew so large it almost cut off her breath. She’d missed hearing him say those words. She thought she would never hear them again. “Do you love me enough to let me do what I must? To help me find Mira’s killer?”

“It’s too dangerous. We’ve been over this before. Maybe, if you stop, he’ll leave you alone. He’ll stop harassing you, go about his business. We can get back together without fear of reprisals. Luke will be safe. You’ll be safe.”

“Do you really think he’ll leave me alone now? I’ve already challenged him. Threatened him by the fact that I’m the one who can expose him. If I back down, he’ll see me as weak, an easy mark. He won’t trust me not to go to the police with what I’ve learned.”

“What have you learned?”

Faith squirmed. “Honestly? Not much. But I’m sure I have most of the pieces. It’s just a matter of putting them together, making sense out of them. I know I’m close. If I weren’t, the killer wouldn’t have come out here to stop me. He’s not going to give up now.” She needed him to understand. “I won’t be safe until he’s in jail.”

* * *

John sat facing Faith, resisting the urge to put his head in his hands. She was so earnest. She didn’t want to see the connection between poking into the murders, the threats from the killer, and the online harassment. He tried to think of another way to explain it.

“The thing I don’t understand is how he found out where I was staying,” Faith said. “I only told Hope after I got here. I’m positive no one followed me. How did he know about the tire house, much less that I was coming here?”

John’s heart and lungs stopped working for a minute as time hung suspended. “I told him.”

Faith’s head jerked up and her body tensed as every one of her senses focused on him. “What?” She said it softly, as if a normal tone of voice would have shrieked in the desert quiet.

“I told him.” John scratched his arm, averted his eyes from her piercing stare. He couldn’t believe he was at fault, but it had to be true. “Remember Mira’s memorial service?”

Faith nodded tentatively.

“Remember the tall guy I talked to, the one with the wavy shoulder length hair and the large nose?”

She nodded again. “Stan.”

“He mentioned he lived in Civano—near you—and was an electrical engineer, and I asked him about solar panels and… Well, I told him about the tire house and asked if he would be able to help. I’m pretty sure I described where it was. Is.” John looked around at his dream suddenly turned nightmare. The tire walls he and Walt built. The greenhouse with his plans for fruit and flowers. The cisterns to collect the monsoon rains.

“You’re kidding.”

John shook his head. “I’m afraid not.” He ran a hand through his hair, tried to calm the turbulence in his gut. The idea he was responsible for the attack on Faith was hard to bear.

“Do you know
where
he’s an electrical engineer?” Faith asked.

“No.”

“The TRW plant in Mesa. Do you know what they make there?”

John hadn’t even known there was a TRW plant in Mesa.

Faith didn’t wait for his answer. “Airbags. And do you know what makes airbags inflate?”

Definitely not. He shook his head again.

“Sodium azide. It’s in a little container inside the mechanism. It’s released on impact and combines to make an explosion that inflates the airbag.” Now Faith ran a hand through her hair. “In case you forgot, both Mira and Ashley died of sodium azide poisoning. It would have been easy for Stan to obtain. Easy to use the chemical to kill them.”

“I had no idea. You have to believe me, Faith. I never would have said anything to Stan if I’d known he would come after you.”

Faith licked her lips as she contemplated the new information.

“We have to tell the detective,” John said.

“I agree. But all we have is circumstantial evidence. I doubt Detective Kastner would arrest him without more proof than that.”

John’s heart sank. They’d been down this road before. Several times. “I wish you would stop trying to solve murders.”

“It’s not something I plan, you know.” Faith sounded defensive. “When I see injustice, I’m compelled to do something to make things right. It’s kind of like your ministry.”