Dangerous Melody (13 page)

She stared into his eyes. “Do you believe that?”

He smiled and caught her tear on his finger. “You know, I think I really do.”

Maybe people couldn’t forgive. He thought of the distrust in Stephanie’s eyes,
the anger in Luca’s.

But God could.

She sniffed. “I came earlier to talk to you, but I saw a woman here so I left. Who is she?”

“Cop.”

Maria started. “What did she want?”

He hoped his words wouldn’t drive Maria further into despair. “She’s investigating the murder of Bruno Devlin. He was run down the same night we found you in the shop.”

Even in the weak light, he
could see all the color drain out of her face. “Oh, no. Ricardo told me that he had some business to take care of.” She bit her lip. “I think he went back and killed Devlin so he wouldn’t tell Bittman we were getting close to his violin. He’s a murderer.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I’ve been helping a murderer.”

“You didn’t know. You couldn’t have.” He checked his watch. “It’s almost five.
I’m going to wake up Stephanie and Luca. We’ll make a plan to get to Eugene before Ricardo does.” He got out of the truck and went around to the passenger side.

Maria rolled down the window, anguish written plainly on her face. “Tate, I’m sorry I got you into this mess.”

He stroked her cheek. “Hey, there. Don’t beat yourself up. Fuegos are famous for making messes, but we always clean
them up, right?”

She didn’t answer, so he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “Stay right there. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Maria nodded, and he trotted to Stephanie’s door. A knock at five in the morning was never good, and he knew they were both dog tired, but he had the sense that every moment wasted left a greater window for Eugene to disappear—or worse, for Ricardo to get hold of
him before they did.

Stephanie opened the door in seconds, hair mussed, eyes smudged with fatigue, and still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He swallowed the sudden onslaught of emotion at the terror he’d caused her with his early morning intrusion. “Sorry to wake you.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

“Maria’s in the truck.”

Her mouth opened. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah. She’s
set up a meet with Eugene day after tomorrow. We can intercept them.”

Stephanie gasped and immediately turned to wake Luca. “Bring her in. Let’s go over the details.”

He trotted back to the truck, something like hope beating in his heart. They’d turned a corner, finally. His sister was safe for the moment, and maybe, just maybe, they could get Bittman’s violin back before Ricardo tried
to kill Eugene.

As he neared the car, the hope was replaced by a growing dread. Maria was not in the front seat—only a scrap of paper and a note scrawled in pen.

I’m sorry. I’ll fix it. I love you. M

“Maria!” he yelled, heedless of whom he might bother. He ran in the direction he thought she must have taken. There was no sign of her. He kept searching anyway even though he knew
it was hopeless.

Eventually he returned to the truck and banged his fist against the side.

He looked up and saw Stephanie standing there, understanding in her eyes. She knew it, too. Maria was going to walk right into Ricardo’s hands, and it would destroy any chance of saving her father.

FOURTEEN

S
tephanie felt like screaming. One step forward and three steps back. She plopped down onto the battered chair and pulled up on her laptop some satellite maps of the area while Tate related Maria’s confession. She could not fault the girl entirely—after all, she’d been unable to discern Bittman’s true nature as well, but now the morass was deepening, and if things didn’t
change, none of them would get out of it alive.

“In order to get to this ghost town,” she said, “I’m thinking we should follow the trail from Eugene’s house that we found yesterday.”

Luca considered. “Makes sense. We may even find Eugene along the way if he stopped to camp.”

“Agreed.” Tate’s mouth was still tight with frustration, though. He looked like he was about ready to explode.

Luca was unable to suppress a groan as he tried to put weight on his damaged foot. “I’ll be okay.”

Tate and Stephanie exchanged a skeptical look.

“Come on,” he growled, limping to the car.

Stephanie pointed to a section of the map, and Tate peered over her shoulder. “Looks like Lunkville is down on the sand flats, maybe about three hours from here. It’s an old railroad town,
or what’s left of it.” She looked at Tate. “How is Maria planning to get there?”

He shrugged. “I don’t want to think about it. She’s resourceful, and she thinks she’s going to fix everything. I just hope she doesn’t hitch a ride and get into even more trouble. She’s stubborn.”

Stephanie shot him a look. “Family trait?”

He didn’t reply, instead turning to Luca and shoving his hands
into his pockets, his brow furrowed.

“Luca, Maria told me that she accused you of...pressuring her when it wasn’t true. It was wrong of her to do it.” He took a deep breath. “She’s sorry, and so am I.”

Luca didn’t speak for a moment. “I guess if it came down to it, I’d take my sister’s side, too.”

Tate rubbed a hand over his eyes. “She’s not a bad kid, just insecure. After Dad died,
things only got worse. Too much happened all at once, and she can’t get past it.”

A hint of a smile lit Luca’s face. “That can keep a person stuck in one spot, all right.”

Stephanie saw the wistful expression in Luca’s gaze, and she knew he was thinking of another woman, a woman he’d loved and lost. It brought Brooke to mind, the woman deeply in love with Victor, and her heart ached.
The Gage family had had their share of trials, too.

“Anyway, I’m sorry,” Tate said.

It had never before occurred to Stephanie how difficult it was to say those two words, or how hard it was to accept them. He’d tried to apologize after the accident, but she had turned away, sickened by his addiction and deeply hurt by his abandonment. If Bittman hadn’t taken her father, she might never
have seen Tate again. It would be the easy way, but for some reason she knew it would not have been right. They needed to clear the air between them so they could both start their lives fresh. She would not allow herself to love him again—but maybe it could be a tenuous bridge between them, unsteady though it might be.

If they could somehow climb out of the present mess.

Luca clapped
Tate on the shoulder. “Forgotten. Let’s move on and get to Eugene.”

They hurriedly packed up bottles of water and the leftover sandwiches from the night before. They had another surprise waiting when Tate tried to start the truck. Several turns of the ignition using the key yielded no results. It took him another minute to find the reason. He groaned. Maria had ripped away the ignition wires.

Tate got into the back of the rental car, his face a mixture of anger and amusement. “Good thing you didn’t leave yours unlocked, or she would have disabled it, too.”

Stephanie allowed herself a smile. “At least she didn’t steal it.”

“She probably would have if I didn’t have the keys in my pocket,” Tate grumbled.

As they rolled to the edge of the parking lot, Stephanie driving
and Luca in the passenger seat, Rocky the janitor jogged up, broom and cell phone in hand. “Call for you,” he said, thrusting the phone through the window.

Stephanie thanked Rocky and took the cell, her stomach clenching into a knot. “Hello?”

“I’m okay, little lady. Don’t let him...”

She sat forward, electrified. “Daddy! Has he hurt you? Tell me where you are.”

“He is unharmed
for the moment,” Bittman said, coming on the line. “But I am losing my patience. This investigator, Tuney, he is causing some inconvenience to me.”

Stephanie was unable to answer, her father’s voice still ringing in her ears.

Luca took the cell and jabbed the speakerphone button. “If you hurt him, it will be the last thing you ever do.”

“Such bravado, but we’ve no time for this.
I have had to intervene with the local authorities already. Another annoyance. I thought I spelled out very clearly that you were to stay away from the police.”

“Sorry, but there’s been a murder here,” Luca snapped. “Cops don’t turn a blind eye to that.”

“The music store owner.” Bittman’s voice was thoughtful. “It proves me right.”

“About what?”

“Whoever burned down my father’s
store is after my violin, and he’s eliminating any potential witnesses. Perhaps he’ll eliminate Maria, too. I surmise they are working together.”

“Enough,” Tate shouted.

“Aah, the oaf is there with you. Stephanie, you are worthy of so much more. You were better off without him.”

“Stop it,” Stephanie hissed. “I want to talk to my father again.”

“I’ve no more time to waste, and
neither, it seems, do you. Call off Tuney, or I will be forced to kill him. Keep the cop away, or she will also meet with an accident. And find my violin. Quickly. I’ll tell your father goodbye for you.” He hung up.

Luca snapped the phone shut, and Stephanie held it out the window to the waiting Rocky.

“How does he know where we are?” Stephanie managed. “I haven’t seen anyone following
us.” Her voice shook.

“Doesn’t matter.” Tate shifted impatiently on the seat. “We’ve got to get moving.”

Luca took out his own phone and reluctantly dialed Tuney’s number, then left a message. “I doubt he’ll give it up. You know Tuney.”

Stephanie shivered. She could not bear it if something happened to Tuney.

She eased down the driveway and headed out of town, keeping an eye
on the rearview mirror. She wasn’t sure who she was looking for. Ricardo? Sartori? Maria? Alternating waves of panic and rage swept through her. Tate’s face in the rearview was grave, Luca’s tired, haggard and tinged with pain. It all came back to her decision long ago to work for Bittman, to let him into her world.

He’d permeated her life like a toxic gas, enveloping the people she loved
the most: her father, her brothers and Tate.

The thought startled her. Not Tate. Not anymore. She shot a look at him again.

“...past is passed, just like you said. Supposed to be forgiven, right? That Christian thing?”

Could she forgive Tate for the hurt he’d heaped upon her? For the stupid choices he’d made when he’d fallen into addiction? For shutting her out?

Something shifted
inside her, like a sheet of ice breaking to reveal a pool of water underneath. Maybe she could forgive him, and reconcile herself to his continuing addiction, if indeed he was still using.

But she could not love him.

Not again.

Pressing harder on the gas pedal, she aimed the car away from town, toward the yawning desert.

* * *

Tate clamped down on his rage toward Bittman
and tried to decipher the map Stephanie had printed as they retraced their route to Eugene’s. The highway shimmered before them, basically flat except for gentle swells and dips. The road on either side stretched out in endless miles of sandy ground, covered by a scalp of low bushes. Mountains rimmed the horizon in the distance, scraping their peaks against a sky so blue it hurt to look at. Under
other circumstances, it might have been beautiful.

Wind buffeted the car as they drove, easing only slightly as they took the turn to the stone house. He was relieved to see no sign that any recent vehicles had disturbed the dust around the structure. At least Ricardo hadn’t made it there—not by car anyway.

Tate let himself into the house to do a quick check, in case Eugene had returned.
He hadn’t, but Tate made an interesting discovery that he shared with the others.

“Peanut butter is gone from the cooler. I think Maria made a stop here before she took off.”

“Could have been Eugene,” Luca said. “Maybe he came back, changed his mind and headed off in another direction.”

“Nope, it was Maria.”

Luca raised an eyebrow. “Why so certain?”

“Because she hates
jelly, and that was left in the cooler.” Tate climbed back into the rear, and they drove once again to the trailhead they’d found the day before. His leg was not as painful as it had been, but the memory of his conversation with Stephanie was every bit as uncomfortable.

How do you handle it? By abusing drugs?

She thought he was an addict.

She thought right—he was and always would
shoulder the risk of using again.

But he would never touch another narcotic as long as there was any life left in him.

That’s the part she didn’t know.

He would die before he allowed himself back into that abyss.

Stephanie eased the car down the slope, the sides scraping against the bushes that crowded in from either side. The jostling tossed them around, and Tate could tell
it wasn’t doing Luca’s ankle any favors. Just when the trail pinched in to the point where he thought they would have to stop, they emerged at the exit to Eugene’s tunnel.

On the other side of the clearing, the narrow road climbed sharply as it wound through the trees, and he wondered how far they would be able to go in the car. With Luca’s ankle injured, they would not cover much ground
on foot.

Wind scattered leaves across the windshield, and Stephanie clutched the steering wheel in concentration. The makeshift road sloped downward through a canyon speckled by crystal-flecked outcroppings of rocks. Minerals colored the cliffs in stripes of gold and red as they reached the bottom and began a gradual ascent that took them to the top of the canyon and out onto an inhospitable
landscape of rock and sand.

Stephanie slowed as they took in the barren panorama. “What’s that?”

Tate looked in the direction she pointed. A small ridge in the distance marked the edge of a ravine.

She was already unbuckling. “We can get a look at what’s below.” She had to heave the door against the wind.

“Steph...” he started, but she was already marching resolutely, hand
shielding her eyes against the flying grit.

Luca unbuckled his belt and made to follow her.

“I’ll go,” Tate said. “Rest your ankle.”

“It’s fine.” Luca grimaced. “Just a sprain.”

Tate was about to reply when a movement on the horizon stopped him. Behind Stephanie, starting from the far edge of the plateau, a massive cloud of sand began to form, a gigantic chimera rising from
the desert floor.

“Sandstorm,” Luca breathed, pushing at the door. “Stephanie!” he yelled as he struggled out of the car.

“Stay here. I’ll get her.”

Luca shook him off. “No, she’s my sister.”

Tate grabbed him by the shoulders, his face inches from Luca’s, yelling over the wind, which had begun to howl. “You can’t help with your ankle like that. Get back in the car.” He didn’t
wait to see if Luca would follow his commands. Instead he took off, sprinting after Stephanie.

He saw her stop and turn, her face tilted toward the monster bearing down on her.

He tried to call her name, but the huge tower of sand sent out a wild shriek that swallowed up his voice. The wind was screaming now, bearing down on them both with speeds that must have topped fifty miles an
hour. They could not outrun it.

His brain understood, but his legs did not.

Get to Stephanie
was all he could fathom over the roar of the storm.

Forcing his body to move through the blasting wall of sand, he kept on.

The most serious risks from sandstorms, he knew, were suffocation and blindness from the airborne avalanche of sand. He tried to put it out of his mind as he pushed
ahead, nearly falling as the ferocious blast forced his weight on to his bad leg. Grains of sand cut into his face, pricking at his eyes, causing them to tear up.

He fell, struggled back to his feet and fell again.

“Stephanie!” he yelled. She was no more than twenty feet away now. “Get down!”

She might have shouted something back, but he could not hear it as a wall of moving desert
closed in around them, and he lost sight of her.