Before Sunrise (30 page)

He paused. “What call? From whom?”

“From your father,” she replied with a wicked grin. “He's on his way to the hospital!”

C
ORTEZ LAUGHED
. “Didn't he think we could handle this by ourselves?” he asked.

“You know Uncle Charles,” she said brightly. “He's already fond of Phoebe. He said he couldn't wait to see her. He also said that he wanted to be at the wedding. He hoped he was in time.”

Cortez, from a lifetime of living with his father's uncanny gift, only shook his head. “We're getting married in five days, God knows how he knew.”

“Can I come?” Tina asked wanly.

“Of course you can. Phoebe doesn't hold grudges.”

“Thank goodness.”

He kissed Joseph and then Tina, and got into the car. “I'll see you later. Lock the door!”

“You got it!” Tina ran back inside, her face radiant with delight.

Cortez burned rubber getting out to Phoebe's house. At the end of her driveway, he found Sheriff Steele, Drake, and a recently-arrived special agent from a nearby field office, Special Agent Jack Norris.

“The same neighbor who saw her leave here yesterday just confirmed that she came back a few minutes ago,” Sheriff Steele told Cortez. “We're debating tactics.”

“Rush her,” Cortez said coldly. “I won't risk letting her get away.”

“She can't,” the sheriff assured him. “This is the only road out. The snow's getting pretty deep. She slid around just getting to Phoebe's house.”

“Waiting her out is going to use up manpower and time,” Cortez replied. “She's got nothing to lose. She won't mind killing again. Homicide, or even suicide, would make no difference now.”

“We can draw straws to see who doesn't have to go first,” Drake mused.

Cortez stalked back to his car. “There's no need for straws. I'm going. Norris, you're backup. You drive. Go slow, because I'm diving out at the old well in the front yard. You continue around back, but keep your head
down.” He glanced toward the sheriff. “I'm counting on you two to stop her if she gets this far.”

They nodded solemnly. “It's your show,” Sheriff Steele said. “Good luck.”

Cortez threw up his hand in acknowledgment. Norris, a new agent, dark-haired and tall, climbed in under the wheel and Cortez got in on the passenger side.

They eased closer to the house. Cortez expected a shootout, but there were no shots fired at them from the house.

“Here, when you turn at the pine trees just at the side of the house, slow down and I'll get out. They'll provide cover,” he told Norris.

“Yes, sir. Then what do I do?”

“Park in front of her SUV so she can't move it forward,” Cortez told him. “The only alternative then would be for her to back into the trees. There's a sheer drop of about a hundred feet down that foot path. I checked it out one day when Phoebe was at work. She didn't even know about it.”

“That's a long fall,” Norris agreed.

“A fatal one, in a vehicle. Okay. Here goes. Stop!”

Norris stopped, Cortez jumped out and pulled his service revolver. He'd like to take Claudia Bennett alive, but she'd already killed once. He wasn't taking chances.

He eased to the front porch and peered in through the
windows while Norris was making noise backing in the snow-covered driveway.

Under the cover of the noise, he tried the door and found it unlocked. He eased in, glad he was wearing crepe-soled shoes, so that he made no noise. He hoped the boards didn't creak.

He stopped, closed his eyes, and listened. Norris had stopped the car and cut off the engine. It was quiet, except for the sound of the wind outside. The snow had stopped, but the wind hadn't.

There was a faint scuffing sound in the kitchen. Holding the automatic firmly in both hands, Cortez moved past the dining room and to the doorway of the kitchen. He saw the stove and refrigerator and the tile floor. He saw a shoe, barely moving.

He darted into the room with the pistol leveled and grimaced. Claudia Bennett was lying on the floor. Beside her, on the tile, was the pistol Phoebe had learned to shoot. The blond woman had a spreading red stain on the front of her skirt. She looked up at Cortez through dazed, cold eyes.

He knelt beside her, yelling for Norris. The other agent opened the back door, which was unlocked, and moved into the room. He had his service revolver out as well, but he put it away when he saw the woman on the floor.

“Were you shot?” Cortez asked her.

She swallowed. “It doesn't hurt much, isn't that strange?” She swallowed again. “Fred was supposed to keep the artifacts for a year…before he sold them. The fool went straight to the museum here…and sold one to that Keller…woman.” She tried to breathe and winced. The stain was spreading even more.

Cortez reached onto the counter and pulled down a dish towel. He folded it quickly and pressed it hard to the woman's wound. She groaned.

“Call 911,” Cortez told Norris.

“It's no good,” she told Cortez. “I've been lying here…several minutes. I aimed for…my heart but I fumbled and shot myself in the stomach.” She laughed and then choked, coughing and wincing even more. “My husband…called that archaeologist, his cousin. I panicked. I told Fred. We called the man and told him we were in law enforcement and that we knew about the artifacts. He told us to come get him and he'd show us where they were. We went to his motel. He was on the phone. We didn't know who he'd called. As soon as he hung up, Fred shot him. He'd taped an empty soft drink liter-sized bottle to the end of the pistol to make a silencer. Nobody heard. We loaded him in the car and dumped him on a dirt road…out of town. We had no
idea…it was on Cherokee land,” she added miserably. “The last thing we wanted…was to involve the feds.”

Praying that the EMTs would get to her in time, Cortez listened intently as she struggled to get the words out.

She swallowed hard again before continuing. “Fred said he wasn't going back to prison, no matter what. He scared me. I figured he'd turn me in, and I've got…a record. So I posed as a teacher to get to Miss Keller. It was a stroke of good luck on my part—I found the name of a real teacher from an article in the local paper about the woman winning some fancy teacher's award. Anyway, I hoped Phoebe would remember Fred and tell the police, so he'd get put away real fast. But it had the opposite effect.” She caught her breath. Her voice was getting weaker. “Fred said he was taking the artifacts and he was going to pin the murder on me.

“I wasn't about to let that happen. So I lured Walks Far to the cave so he could catch Fred red-handed and turn him into the authorities. But Fred was too smart. He knocked out Walks Far and was going to kill him. I had a pistol of my own in my pocket, a .45 automatic. I told Fred to check my husband's pockets to make sure he wasn't wearing a wire. I knew he wasn't—I just needed Fred…to bend down. He did, and I shot him in the back of the head.”

“You could have pleaded self-defense,” Cortez said curtly, acknowledging Norris's nod that the medics and police were on the way. “How did you move the body?”

“After I killed Fred, it was just a matter of time until they found me. I was so scared that I could have moved a stove by myself! I dragged Walks Far to the truck, drove him back to the construction trailer and turned on the lights. I thought that would buy me some time. Maybe they'd think Walks Far killed Fred and managed to get out of there to the construction site somehow. But Miss Keller was a wild card, you see. I had to kill her so she couldn't identify me as the woman from the museum. She could connect me to Fred.”

Cortez stiffened in anger.

“But Miss Keller knocked my pistol out of my hand and it got lost. I couldn't find it and she ran where I couldn't take the SUV. I took off, but before I could get packed I heard on the radio that Miss Keller had been found. I knew that it was all over. I came here, because I thought I'd be safe while I decided what to do. She had a pistol of her own—I found it by the bedside table.”

Despite all the misery Claudia had caused, Cortez couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her final act of desperation. He squeezed her hand, urging her to continue.

She laughed pathetically. “Suddenly it just didn't seem worth all the trouble, to run and hide. And I couldn't go to prison. Walks Far used to talk about how horrible it was…” She grimaced. “I'm sorry,” she whispered, looking up at Cortez with glazed eyes. “Tell my brother…and my husband…I love them, and I'm sorry!”

“I'll tell them,” Cortez said quietly. “Just one more thing…how did you arrange the museum heist?”

“Fred impersonated a guard so that we could get into the museum in New York at night. I helped him steal the artifacts,” she added sadly. Claudia closed her eyes. “It was all for the excitement. Walks Far was so boring and normal. I wanted adventure, money…power.” She sighed slowly and she opened her eyes one last time. “I was…so close…to making it. Tell my husband…he should have turned me in…years ago. I let him take the rap for me when I stole those jewels from the museum. He's got a record, and he never did anything wrong…except love me. What a…fool…what a sweet, sweet fool…”

Claudia's eyes closed. Her breath sighed out and she went still. Cortez felt for a pulse. She'd bled to death internally, he was sure of it. But he tried to revive her, all the same. He was still trying when the EMTs roared up and took over for him.

He locked the house to preserve the crime scene and he and Norris followed the ambulance to the hospital. But Claudia Bennett was pronounced dead on arrival.

Cortez stopped by Walks Far's room to tell him what had happened. His brother-in-law, Bennett, came in a few minutes later. He repeated the story for the other man as well.

“Norris and I heard her confession,” Cortez told the Cherokee man somberly. “A deathbed confession is as good as a written, notarized one. You can hire a lawyer and apply to the governor for a full pardon for the crime you were convicted of. We'll back you up.” He glanced at Bennett. “You could get the dumping charge off your record as well. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I had a brother who was in trouble with the law all his life,” he added. “Sometimes all the love and care in the world won't save another person from prison.”

“I suppose not,” Bennett said. He shook hands with Cortez. “Thank you, for not letting her die without trying to save her. She did shoot herself?”

He nodded. “With Phoebe's gun—the one our deputy sheriff gave her to protect herself with.”

“You can't win when Fate starts calling in bets,” Walks Far said solemnly. “I loved her. But she didn't know what love was.”

“She said to tell you both that she loved you, and that she was sorry,” he replied. He leaned forward, his eyes intent on Walks Far's sad face. “She saved you from being shot by the killer. She didn't have to. She was already an accessory to murder. One more wouldn't have mattered. But she killed him to save you.”

Walks Far managed a smile. “Thanks.”

Cortez shrugged. “Give it time,” he advised both men. “It does heal.”

Bennett only nodded. “I'd better call the funeral home…” He hesitated.

“We'll have to have an autopsy first,” Cortez replied. “No coroner is going to take my word for how she died. You can still have her taken to the local funeral home, though. The state crime lab will take it from there.”

Bennett grimaced. “I'll never stop wondering if I could have saved her, if I'd let her take the rap for the first felony she committed. I was so concerned with our family name. Now look at it.”

“You can't second-guess the past. You just have to live with it and go on. I'll be in touch,” he added. “I have to see about Phoebe.”

“You found her?” Bennett asked abruptly. “She's alive?”

“She's going to be fine.” He smiled. “So one good thing came out of an otherwise rotten situation.”

“Thank God,” Bennett said. “That's one death I won't have on my conscience.”

“I'm glad she's going to be all right,” Walks Far said. “Be well.”

“You, too,” Cortez said as he left.

 

H
IS FATHER WAS SITTING
in the chair beside Phoebe's bed, beaming. He looked up when his son walked in the door.

They exchanged greetings in Comanche and embraced heartily.

“I approve of your choice,” Mr. Redhawk told his son. He glanced wickedly at Phoebe. “But I do wonder what you told her about me. She was shocked when she saw me.”

“Oh, she was just expecting you in a loincloth and a war-bonnet, riding a painted pony,” Cortez teased, watching Phoebe color furiously.

“I was not!” she argued at once.

Both men chuckled.

“So, do I get to be best man?” he asked Cortez. “I can't stay long. I've got final exams next week, and nobody to sub for me.”

“We'll be comfortably on our honeymoon by then,” Cortez assured him. He bent and kissed Phoebe tenderly, his dark eyes possessive and loving as they met hers.