Dance of the Bones (27 page)

For several long seconds, the only sound in the oppressive darkness was the dull hammering of Gabe's own heart. Then he heard something else, someone shouting his name. The sound seemed to come from somewhere far away. When he tried to answer, Gabe was surprised to find that his tongue was swollen. No words came out of his mouth, only a hoarse croak.

The shout came again. In the background Gabe heard the frantic barking of a dog and the wail of a siren.

“Gabe, where the hell are you?” Gabe heard the desperation in his father's voice and tried his best to answer.

“We're here,” he said, “right here.” But it didn't seem as though anyone outside the box could hear him.

Then, to his immense relief, there was a sudden shaking and rattling as someone opened the tailgate on the truck. And then a dazzling beam appeared in the darkness as light entered through one of the ventilation holes. A moment later, the box itself moved, as though it was being pulled from the bed of the truck and placed on what felt like solid ground.

“I hear you, Gabe. We'll get you out. Hold on. There's a padlock,” his father said. “Somebody get me a fucking crowbar.”

Gabe almost giggled at that. He had never heard his father say a bad word before—­not ever, not once. That was when Gabe remembered. He and Tim had both soiled themselves. He'd grown accustomed to the stink, but what would happen when other ­people saw them that way? What would they think? Would they point at them and call them babies?

No, he realized. They would not. He and Tim were supposed to be dead, but they hadn't died. It didn't matter how they looked or smelled. They were alive.

As the hasp gave way, Tim stirred beside him. “What's happening?” he mumbled. “Is he coming back?”

Gabe flicked the knife closed and pressed it into his friend's feverish hand. “No,” he said. “It's my dad. They found us.”

The lid opened. Fresh air and more blinding light flooded their prison. The first face Gabe saw belonged to his father. “Son,” he said, reaching for Gabe. “Come on.”

“No,” Gabe said. His voice was starting to work now. “Get Tim first. He's worse off than I am.”

Several willing hands reached into the box and lifted Tim out. A moment later a single pair of strong arms—­his father's—­grabbed hold of Gabe and lifted him out, too. The next thing he knew, Leo Ortiz was holding his son against his chest, cradling him as though he were a newborn.

“I thought we'd lost you,” his father sobbed. “I thought you were gone forever. We thought both of you were.”

Gabe had never seen his father cry. “I'm all right, Dad,” he said, wiping away his father's tears. “I'm all right.”

Just then he caught a glimpse of Tim on a stretcher with a bottle of some kind of fluid attached to his arm. For just a moment, the knowing spirit that had been with him in those long-­ago hospital rooms returned to him. In a flash of joy, he realized long before anyone else that Tim José was not going to die.

Someone in the background—­Dan Pardee, Gabe thought—­passed him a bottle of water. He took a tiny sip. It tasted wonderful, better than any water had ever tasted before, but his mouth and throat were so parched that at first one sip was all he could manage.

“I'm okay,” he told his father again. “And Tim will be okay, too.”

Leo took a ragged breath. “Come on, Dan,” he said. “Since you and Hulk are the ones who found them, how about if you give us a ride to the hospital?”

Outside with ­people milling around and still in his father's arms, Gabe was surprised to discover that it was dark—­that the flash of light that had seemed so blinding had come from the fluorescent overhead shop lights in the garage. In the fresh air, Gabe could smell himself. The rank odor was almost overpowering. He was ashamed when his father placed him in the back of Dan's Explorer and crawled in after him.

A woman's face appeared in the window next to Leo. She pounded on the glass and held up a badge. She wasn't someone Gabe recognized, but since her badge said FBI, that wasn't too surprising.

“We need to speak to him,” she demanded.

“After,” Leo Ortiz said firmly through the still closed window. With that, Dan hit the gas pedal, and they sped away.

They arrived at the hospital entrance less than two minutes later. Gabe more than half expected that Lani would come out to meet them. When she didn't, he decided she was probably busy taking care of Tim.

Leo helped Gabe out of the SUV and was leading him toward the door when Lucy Rojas came running through the door and stopped directly in front of them. “Is it true what they said,” she demanded, “that the boys were in Henry's garage and locked in his truck?”

“It's true,” Leo said, trying to brush past her, but she didn't budge.

“Where is he?” Lucy's face was filled with anguish, and Gabe realized that the woman knew nothing about what her husband had been doing.

“I saw your Toyota parked out by the airport,” Leo said. “Henry probably saw what was happening and used it to run off somewhere.”

Dan Pardee nodded. “That's what I heard, too. They're planning on organizing another search—­for him this time.”

“But I don't understand,” Lucy objected. “What's this all about?”

Gabe was still holding the bottle of water. He swallowed another drink and spoke almost normally for the first time. “It's about diamonds,” he said, “diamonds in a peanut butter jar.”

 

CHAPTER 25

THE MOTHER OF SHINING FALLS
looked and looked for her daughter, but she could not find her. Then suddenly, she heard her daughter
'
s voice. And Shining Falls sounded happy
—­
just the way she used to back when she sang to the children.

The mother followed the sound of the voice. She kept looking and looking. As the light came and went on the surface of the water in the charco, she could see little Shining Falls
'
s face smiling up at her. Sometimes the mother could see her daughter
'
s face very clearly. Other times she could see it only faintly. But always she could see her daughter smiling and hear her singing.

LANI STIRRED AS HENRY ROJAS
accelerated away from the Border Patrol checkpoint. Her shoulders were cramped. Her hands were strapped together with tie wraps while a third one secured her right arm to the armrest on the door. She had no memory of his stopping long enough to cuff her or strip off her coat. Her lab coat had been used to cover the restraints, and no one at this checkpoint had noticed anything amiss. She'd been out cold. She was about to say something when Henry spoke. At first she thought a third person must be in the car with them, but then she realized he was talking to himself.

Dan had told her that during the long hours when he was alone in the car, he often carried on extended conversations with Hulk. Henry didn't have a dog, so he didn't have anyone else to chat with along the way.

Lani twisted in her seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. Then she closed her eyes, feigning sleep. She realized he must have given her something other than scopolamine. She was too wide awake and connected for that. Succinylcholine, maybe? But where would that have come from? Had Lucy stolen it from the hospital pharmacy? Was she in on this, too?

“Going with some money is better than going with no money,” Henry was saying aloud. “Either she gives me enough to get away, or I go to the cops and blow the whistle. It's about time she paid me what I'm worth. She thinks that she can just order me around like she's some high and mighty general while I'm her lowly PFC? Screw that. I'm the one who's been taking all the risks, and I'm the one who's about to lose everything.”

What risks? Lani wondered. And she wished she knew who “she” was. Was he referring to Lucy, or was there some other woman involved?

And that reminded her suddenly of the vision she'd had on the mountain—­on Ioligam. How many hours ago was that now? Less than a day, but it seemed like years since she had seen that ghostly woman in the smoke, an evil Ho'ok, a witch with silver hair. Was that Henry's mysterious “she”?

And what about Gabe and Tim? Lani had seen the blowtorch and knew someone had been trying to break into Henry's garage structure out at the airport. Maybe the boys had been there—­locked inside. But were they dead or alive? And was Henry Rojas the person who had killed Carlos and Paul José?

Lost in thought, Lani realized that Henry's monologue had changed. “I need to talk to Francisco,” he said with some urgency. “And I need him now!”

Lani hadn't realized she'd heard him dialing the phone, so maybe she wasn't quite as with it as she had first thought she was.

A long silence followed. Lani imagined that telephone-­hold elevator music was playing from somewhere. She heard Henry sigh in frustration and what sounded like fingers drumming impatiently on the steering wheel. He was still on hold when Lani felt the buzz of her own cell phone in the pocket of her jeans. When she went to the hospital and slipped on her lab coat, she routinely switched her ringer to silent. Sometimes she forgot to turn it back on. And this was one of those times. Between the road noise and the music on his own phone, Henry evidently didn't hear the sound.

Lani whispered a small prayer of gratitude. As long as she had her phone—­as long as he didn't realize she had one and took it away—­there was a chance someone could figure out where she was.

“Organ Pipe won't work,” Henry said a long minute or so later. “Something's come up. We'll have to meet up somewhere else.” There was a pause. “How should I know? I'm inside the Tucson sector right now. Just crossed the checkpoint at Three Points. The fewer checkpoints I have to go through, the better.” Another pause was followed by “No, not Nogales. Too many ­people know me there. What about Agua Prieta or even somewhere in New Mexico? There's a lot of empty terrain down by the Peloncillos.” Lani heard another voice in the background, speaking loudly enough that his voice carried even without being on speaker.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Henry said. “Changes in plan mean you raise the price. I'm good with that. Call me back when you have the arrangements in place. The number you have for me works.”

Henry ended the call and the car slowed. Lani wondered where they were, but she didn't dare open her eyes. She needed him to continue believing she was still out of it.

AFTER A BUSY AND PURPOSEFUL
day, Brandon Walker was surprised to find himself at loose ends. Ava Richland had seemingly gone to ground. With her husband hauled off to TMC, there was no point in hanging around in town. A glance at his watch told him Diana was most likely still caught up in her dinner, so he headed home.

On the way, he tried calling Lani to see if any progress had been made on finding Gabe Ortiz and Tim José, but Lani didn't answer. When he dialed Amanda Wasser's number, she did answer, telling him that she had arrived safely at the hospital in Mesa, but that her father was still in surgery. She promised to call him with news when there was some.

Brandon had just ended that call when a new one came in. “How are you getting on with my friend J.P.?” Ralph Ames asked.

“Surprisingly well,” Brandon answered. “He put me in touch with a pal of his, a guy named Todd Hatcher. In a matter of minutes he was able to track down an address that I needed here in Tucson. That was a huge help.”

Ralph laughed. “Todd may be a forensic economist, but he comes with a lot of hidden talents. He's also a great guy. If it weren't for him, Beau's wife, Mel, might very well be a goner now.”

“How come?”

“Beau and Mel Soames used to work together on the Special Homicide squad,” Ralph explained. “That's where they met.”

“Mel Soames,” Brandon mused. “Why is that name so familiar? Oh wait, now I remember. She had something to do with putting the Kenneth Myers homicide together with the Mangum missing persons report.”

“Sounds like Mel, all right,” Ralph said with a chuckle.

“How exactly did Todd Hatcher save Mel's life?”

“When Mel was appointed chief of police in Bellingham, her second-­in-­command got his nose seriously out of joint. The guy took Mel against her will and was about to toss her off a cliff into the Pacific Ocean when Todd managed to locate her phone so Beau could ride to the rescue.”

“So this Todd character is what you might call a forensic economist superhero?”

“You could say that,” Ralph agreed, “but don't tell him I said so. He might get a swelled head. In the meantime, I'm glad you and Beau are able to work together. Getting back in the game will be good for him.”

“We'll see,” Brandon said. “Talk to you later.”

He had arrived at the house and pulled into the garage. When he opened the door, Bozo was waiting right outside. Brandon gave the dog a pat on the head. “Hey, boy,” he said aloud. “It's way past your dinnertime. Let's find you something to eat.”

With Bozo happily downing his kibble, Brandon took a beer from the fridge and joined the dog on the patio. The sun was down. Evening chill was leaching the warmth out of the dry desert air, so Brandon turned on the outdoor heater before he sat down. Yes, he was tired. It had been a long day, but in the twenty or so hours since he last sat in that same chair, he'd accomplished a lot. Back then he'd been wrestling with the question of John Lassiter's guilt or innocence. Tonight he was squarely on the innocence side of the equation. Last night he'd learned for the first time that Big Bad John had a daughter. Today he'd met the woman and liked her, too.

Brandon glanced at his watch. The fact that Lassiter's surgery had gone on this long was worrisome. Would he make it? And if he did, would he and Amanda manage to eke out some kind of relationship? Brandon understood that outcome was up to him. Would he be able to establish John Lassiter's innocence in a way that would finally make it possible for the man to come face-­to-­face with his own child?

Brandon's phone rang, and Dan Pardee's name appeared in the window. “Hey, Dan,” Brandon said. “How's it going?”

Dan didn't return his father-­in-­law's greeting. “Have you heard anything from Lani?”

The anxiety in Dan's voice was enough to make Brandon sit bolt upright in his chair and slam his open beer bottle onto the table. Brandon's abrupt mood swing caused Bozo to abandon his kibble and come over to stand close to his master's knee.

“I tried calling her, but it went to voice mail,” Brandon said. “Why? What's wrong?”

“She's gone, Brandon.” Dan's words came out in something just short of a sob. “We were searching the airport at Sells for Tim and Gabe. She told ­people at the hospital that she was coming to join us, but she never showed up.”

“Sells has an airport?” Brandon asked. “Why were you searching there?”

“The FBI obtained a warrant for Tim José's cell phone. The last ping on that came from somewhere on or near the airport grounds. Hulk and I were late to the game and were sent to the far end of the airport. As soon as we made it back to the main group of searchers, Hulk alerted at the entrance to one of the buildings, a Quonset hut that was locked down tight. Leo Ortiz used a blowtorch to get inside, and that's where we found the boys.”

Brandon felt a rush of relief. “Are they all right?”

“They're both at the hospital, being treated for dehydration. Tim is in far worse shape than Gabe is. I think they'll keep both of them overnight at least, but it was when we got to the hospital that I learned Lani wasn't here. Lucy Rojas said she was going to join the search, but she never showed up. She isn't at home, either.”

Dan's words had poured out in such a rush that Brandon had to struggle to keep up. “You're saying the boys were locked up in a garage?”

“They were actually imprisoned in a concealed compartment in a pickup that was locked inside a garage. It's a Toyota Tundra with a false bottom on the bed and a camper shell over the top.”

“Whose truck?”

“A guy from here on the T.O.—­Henry Rojas, who, I'm sorry to say, happens to be one of the Shadow Wolves. His wife's car was found near the airport. We assumed that Rojas was somewhere near where he'd left her vehicle. Hulk and I helped with that search, too. Hulk picked up a scent all right, but he lost it on the shoulder of the road a dozen car lengths or so from the gate to the airport.”

“You think he abducted Lani?” Brandon asked.

“I don't think: I know. I pulled some strings and got the officers at the Three Points checkpoint to review their video feed. Lani's Fusion passed through there half an hour ago with Henry Rojas at the wheel and Lani—­or someone who looks like Lani—­asleep on the passenger side.”

“The guy has to be beyond desperate to pull a stunt like that,” Brandon said. “Any idea where he's headed?”

“None. The FBI has posted a BOLO. I gave them permission to go after our phone records, but once again, they're insisting on getting a warrant first. They have to because there may be patient privacy issues with both Lani's phone and her computer. Once they have the warrant, they'll be able to trace her, but for now we're stuck.”

“Wait,” Brandon interjected. “Are you saying Lani has her phone with her?”

“I can't imagine that she doesn't,” Dan replied. “She's a doctor. The ringer is usually turned off, but the woman doesn't go anywhere without her phone. Why?”

“Good-­bye, Dan,” Brandon said. “I'm hanging up now.”

“But—­”

“I'll get back to you.”

Abandoning Dan midsentence, Brandon searched through his recent calls list. He found the one he wanted—­the phone belonging to Todd Hatcher—­a few calls earlier on the list. Brandon punched the number. When it rang, a woman answered.

“It's for you,” she said, passing the phone along to someone else.

“Brandon Walker,” he said when Todd came on the line. “I hope you don't mind my calling you back directly, but we've got a situation here—­a serious situation. I need your help.”

Only after finishing the call to Todd did Brandon call his wife. Diana was laughing as she answered. “Hey,” she said. “This turned out to be fun. You should have come along after all.”

“How much have you had to drink?” Brandon asked.

“A ­couple of glasses of wine,” she said. “Why?”

“Do you have a designated driver?”

“Brandon,” Diana said indignantly. “What the hell?”

“Do you?” he insisted.

“My publicist is a Mormon girl who doesn't drink at all. So, yes, Mr. Busybody, I do.”

“Good. You need to leave the restaurant now and have her drive you straight to Lani's place in Sells.”

There was a moment of silence on the phone. “To Sells? Why? What's happened?”

Brandon squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to say what was coming next, but he had no choice.

“A man named Henry Rojas is the one who killed Carlos and Paul José,” he said. “Now he's taken Lani.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Not kidding. Dan says they found Gabe and Tim, and they're okay, but Lani is gone, along with her Fusion. You need to go help with the kids.”