Death on Heels (37 page)

“That doesn’t sound like you,” Mac said.

“Oh, they have some leads.”

“What kind of leads?” Tony pressed. “And how do you know this? Don’t bogart the facts, Lacey.”

“Leads. They always have leads. You know. Anyway, I
can’t hang around here all day. Vic and I have some—errands to run.”

“Smithsonian,” Mac rumbled ominously. “Errands? We have brainstorming to do. This is an editorial meeting.
Eye Street
West
.”

“Don’t you trust me, Mac?”

He chuckled. “Trust a reporter?” He laughed louder and helped himself to more icing on his cinnamon roll. “Trust a reporter. Ha. You slay me, Smithsonian.”

Lacey and Tony exchanged a meaningful look. It wasn’t like reporters ever trusted their editors either. She took a bite of succulent bacon. Vic concentrated on his coffee, scanning the room out of habit and training. He saw them first.

“There she is!” Lacey heard Cherise yell. She spun around in her chair and saw her mother and sister in the doorway. They had Vonda McKay in tow, and Benjamin Barton brought up the rear.
The parade is starting early today
.

“You invited the whole tribe?” Mac looked pained. “Your family got a song and dance act too? Well, I got one thing to say: Keep your mother out of my hair.”

“I wouldn’t worry about my hair if I were you, Mac.”
How am I going to slip away with Vic without getting hijacked by Mom and Cherise?

Rose’s eyes were shadowed from her late night, but she still had her trademark sparkling enthusiasm—and her preppy-parent outfit of gray slacks, white shirt, and burgundy V-neck sweater, and finished off with penny loafers. Cherise was truly her mother’s daughter, full of energy, bouncing around in her jeans, purple sneakers, and a petal pink V-neck sweater, a big smile on her face.

This morning, even Vonda had been transformed. Her hair was combed, she wore a lavender V-neck sweater of Cherise’s, and her Goth eyeliner had been left in the shower. She wore a pair of pink sneakers. No boots. Vonda looked younger and more innocent—and less afraid—than the night before.

With all those matching V-neck sweaters and healthy complexions, the trio looked ready for a family photograph.
Ben Barton, in crisply pressed jeans and a red and white Nordic ski sweater, rested a friendly hand on Cherise’s shoulder. With a start, Lacey realized he too would fit right into that family photo. His blond good looks complemented Cherise’s nicely.

Obviously,
Lacey thought,
Baby Lacey had been dropped on the Smithsonians’ doorstep by gypsies. Gloomy, world-weary gypsies.
She lifted her coffee cup to her lips and tried to open her eyes very wide.
Be perky!

“Lacey, you look tired, dear,” Rose said. “You need rest, and what are you eating? You should be having whole grains, like oatmeal.”

“Protein, Mom, lots of protein.” She took a bite of bacon, a simple reward for being alive.
Yum
. “Brain food. Oatmeal and carbs just make me hungry.”

Her mother sniffed. “Vein-clogging cholesterol. No wonder you’re dragging.”

The waitress waltzed past Rose with Vic’s huge platter of waffles and sausages.

“We’re taking Vonda to Steamboat Springs, and keeping her out of boots,” Cherise said. “She spent the night on my spare bed. Isn’t my sweater cute on her?”

“I still don’t know if it’s the right thing to do,” Vonda began. “I want to help find Emily.”

“We want you safe. We’ll all feel better if you get away from here,” Vic said. The killer knew Emily, so he had to know Vonda: where she hung out, where she worked, where she lived. Vonda might be the next target in the killer’s crosshairs. The Sagebrush cops had agreed the night before: Getting her out of town was a good idea. “We’ll do everything we can to find Emily.”

“Well. I guess. If there’s nothing I can do to help here,” Vonda said. “I’ll stay with my aunt and uncle in Steamboat. The guys at Wild Bunch Taxidermy said I can take time off with pay. A week or so anyway.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Lacey said.
A very good plan.

“God, I hope Emily comes home safe.”

Tony stood up and turned to Vonda. “Tony Trujillo, with
The Eye Street Observer
in Washington, D.C. Do
you have time for a few questions? About your friend Emily?”

“I told Lacey everything already.”

He smiled and steered Vonda to a nearby table. Tony could be sensitive with sources that needed a gentle touch, and he was a good reporter.
For a source-stealing, byline-grabbing snake in the grass.

“Want to come along, sis?” Cherise asked. “We’re heading over to Vonda’s place to pack, then Steamboat. And shopping!”

“Sounds great,” Lacey said. “But we have things to do.” She checked her watch.

“Mr. Jones, all work and no play is
not acceptable
here in Colorado,” Rose warned Mac. “A balanced life is the key to good health. And that doesn’t include that disgusting half-eaten thing on your plate. Sugar, white flour, and fat are a lethal combination. I can just imagine your arteries.”

Mac took another bite of cinnamon roll. “I appreciate your concern, Mrs. Smithsonian. Have a nice day.” He returned one sticky hand to his sticky laptop and proceeded to peck at the keys. “We got work to do.”

“That man is going to have a heart attack,” Rose observed.

“But not today,” Lacey assured her. “Thanks for the offer. Take good care of Vonda and I’ll call if anything happens.”

Lacey liberated Vonda from Tony and herded her family toward the door. Cherise and Ben shared a hug, but Ben stayed behind.

“I thought you were heading back to the slopes,” Lacey said encouragingly. “Steamboat? Skiing? Powder to die for, and all that?”

“Not just yet.” Ben took her aside. “Brooke is unhappy. She feels neglected, left out of the loop. We had a long conversation last night.”

“Ben, I haven’t had a lot of spare time to stay in touch with her, or Stella either.” Lacey noticed Vic was hovering over them. “How unhappy?”

“I’m supposed to monitor your every move today.
She’s convinced you’re still in danger. Legal, if not mortal, and perhaps both. And I have to say I concur. Especially with this latest disappearance.”

“Your sister is a doll, but really, Ben, I’ll be fine. I’ll be with Vic. Your skis are calling you. Hear them? ‘Oh, Benjamin! Come ski with us!’”

“Yeah, she said you’d be evasive. So to recap, I’m up to speed on Emily Ogden and her friend Vonda McKay. Cherise is taking Vonda under her wing, and that’s very helpful.” Ben looked to the spot where Cherise had stood and a goofy look came over his face. “She’s really sweet, your sister, isn’t she?”

“Cherise? Sweet? Oh, yeah. Very.” Lacey felt her eyes roll. It seemed Cherise didn’t need a lethal cheerleader kick to fell a man.
She smiles and men fall at her feet, and
then they compliment her boots from down on the ground.

“What’s really on your agenda for today, Lacey? It’s something important, or you’d be speeding to Steamboat with them, interviewing Vonda along the way.”

“Brooke said you were smart.”

“
Smart
is such a pale word. Now, your plans?”

“I suppose Brooke wants a full report.” She caught Vic smirking behind Ben’s back. “Vic and I are going for a drive.
Alone
. In the country.”
Nobody said it would be easy
. Tony slipped up behind them.

“And when you say take a drive, you mean
what
exactly?” Ben persisted.

“Get in the car! Drive! Take the scenic route. See the sights.”

“I recognize that look,” Tony said to Ben. “It means something’s up.”

“What look is that?” Vic stepped forward. “I’m curious.”

“That lone-wolf-ditching-the-rest-of-the-pack look,” Tony said.

Vic was nodding. “Sure, I recognize that look.”

“Is that true, Smithsonian?” Mac had finished his cinnamon roll and was on his feet and ready for action.

“What is this, Pick On Lacey Day?”

“Every day is Pick On Lacey Day,” Mac said. “Now, where are you two headed?”

“Wild goose chase,” Vic said under his breath to Lacey. “And now we’ve got this whole flock of geese tagging along.”

“You got room in that Jeep?” Mac closed his laptop. “I feel like a ride myself. Break in my new hat.”

“And I have it on good authority that you shouldn’t be going anywhere today without your attorney,” Ben said. “In fact, Lacey, I believe you should always have an attorney present.”

“Lacey wouldn’t head out on the range without her posse, now would you, Annie Oakley?” Tony grabbed a piece of toast from her plate. “Better deputize me. Because if
they
go,
I
go. Have pen, will travel.”

She was trapped.

“Are you going to tell them, or should I?” Vic asked.

“I knew it wasn’t just a walk in the park,” Tony said. “I knew it!”

“We can talk now or in the car, Smithsonian,” Mac said. “Your choice. But you are going to talk. You can’t sequester this scoop,
Scoop
.”

“This is so unfair,” Lacey said. She could feel the map burning a hole in her purse. “And don’t call me Scoop.”

“Nobody said life was fair,” Mac said.

“Or editors.”

Lacey understood
how
the Three Musketeers had invited themselves to the party, but she didn’t understand why Vic allowed them to tag along. He could have just said no and made it stick. It was his rent-a-Jeep, after all. Maybe because he didn’t believe anything would come of it. She asked him when they went back to their room to collect their supplies for the road, her backpack, his duffel bag.

“Maybe I think there’s safety in numbers,” he told her. “Maybe I think Mac needs the exercise. Maybe the only way to get them off our backs is to take them along.”

“You don’t think we’re going to find anything, do you?”

“Doubt it. I hope we don’t. But you never know.” He unzipped his duffel bag and pulled out a handgun case. He checked the fit of his shoulder holster over his sweater, took it off again, loaded his stainless .357 Magnum revolver and slipped it in, then tucked it all back in the bag. Lacey’s jaw dropped as she watched all this.

“It’s that serious?”

“Better to be prepared.” He flashed a smile. “Like a Boy Scout.”

“A Boy Scout with PI papers and a permit to carry.”

He lifted her backpack to test its weight. “You’re bringing along a lot of stuff. Computer? Fax machine?”

“I like to be prepared too.” She threw in extra hand wipes.

“You know, Lacey, if we screw this up, we’ll never be able to show our faces in this town again.” He frowned, but she grinned at him and he started laughing.

“You promise? Vic, honey, that’s the best news I’ve heard all week.”

Ten minutes later, they were on the highway heading north out of Sagebrush. Lacey knew there were just a few big ranches and a barn or two all the way to Wyoming. Vic drove and Lacey rode shotgun with Tucker’s map in her hand. Ben, Mac, and Tony filled the backseat. Vic’s duffel bag, Lacey’s backpack, Mac’s hat, and Ben’s ski poles were piled in the back of the Jeep. Ben said the poles could double as hiking staffs.

“Hey, that sign is full of bullet holes!” Mac sat up straight and pointed.

“Welcome to Yampa County,” Vic cracked.

“People don’t shoot road signs in D.C.,” Mac grumbled.

“No, they just shoot each other,” Lacey said.

“By the way, Lois and Clark, where are we headed? Or is it
Lewis
and Clark today?” Tony asked. “Is it still a secret?”

“North and northeast,” Lacey said. “We’re going to check out an old line camp, a cabin where cowboys used to stop while they were driving cattle across the range. We may have to hike in a ways. Half a mile or so.”

“We have a map, so that’s something. We may even see some wild horses,” Vic said. “And pronghorns! On your left, people, pronghorns at nine o’clock.”

“So those are pronghorns?” Mac leaned back and stared out the window. “Beautiful day in the country. But as a matter of curiosity, Smithsonian, who drew this map, and what are you looking for? And don’t tell me wild horses.”

“It’s a long shot,” Lacey began.

“What’s a pronghorn?” Ben wanted to know. “Will my iPhone work up here?
Why
are the road signs all full of bullet holes? And is whatever we’re doing legal?”

“An antelope.” Lacey took his questions in order. “Try a tin can and string. Because it’s the West and that’s how we roll. And what we’re doing is not
illegal
.”

“I get it. We’re rendezvousing with Cole Tucker?” Tony was excited. “I want an exclusive.”

“Wrong. Traveling with you guys really is its own punishment,” Lacey commented. She prayed this wouldn’t be a bust.
At least there are no Western wear stores where we’re going.

Vic tapped Lacey’s arm. “You want to tell them now or later?”

Lacey sighed. “We might be on the trail of Emily Ogden.”

“This is closer to Sagebrush than I thought,” Lacey said as the Jeep bore down on its target.

“Don’t get too excited. We’ve still got a ways to go,” Vic cautioned them.

The Jeep turned off the highway, then down a maze of county roads through sagebrush flats and into hillier up-country with a few scattered trees. The snow had blown off here and there, and the barren landscape was muddy and brown. They crossed posted BLM land on a ruler-straight single-lane dirt road. It was a patchwork quilt of land, public and private. They passed through rolling private ranchland, through barbed wire fences with handmade gates they opened and shut themselves, and finally onto another narrow dirt road, heading across a little ravine and through dense cottonwoods.

The Jeep bumped along ruts and climbed in and out of pits that would put D.C. potholes to shame. The two-track trail was soon passable only by Jeeps or ATVs and mountain goats, and a few pronghorns. The hillside fell away steeply from the trail in places, and Lacey was afraid the ground might open up and swallow them.

“I don’t think we’re on a road anymore,” Mac said as he jostled around in the backseat. “Is this on that map of yours?”