Highway to Hell (24 page)

Squinting into the midmorning sun, I found Lisa leaning against Zeke's truck. Like me, she was wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and sneakers; her chestnut braid snaked down her back, and dark glasses hid her expression as she watched Zeke confer with the game warden.

She waved us closer and we headed over. Keeping her tone low so she didn't interrupt the official conversation, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Either I can't read a map,” I said, “or other forces are at work. I prefer to think the latter.”

As we watched, a third man, his tanned face grimly stoic, joined Zeke and the game warden. Lisa explained quietly, “We were out with the roundup when Zeke got a call about this. The Wildlife Commission was already on their way.”

“Do they have a mythological beasts department?”

She smiled without humor. “If Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith show up in black suits, it will make my day.”

Over her shoulder I saw the game warden shaking his head as he addressed the third man, who must have been the owner of the cattle. I strained my ears to eavesdrop.

“Looking at your livestock here, Mr. Garza, I'd think it was a cougar that killed them, as unlikely as that is.” Again his head wagged side to side. “It's a head-scratcher for sure. Never seen anything like it.”

“What are you going to put in the report?” Zeke asked, sounding testy. He stood with his thumbs hooked in his belt, deceptively casual. But I could see the tension in his fingers.

“Unknown predator, I guess. Maybe rabid. We'll have to do an investigation.” The warden glanced between the ranchers, and I realized his brain wasn't as slow as his drawl. “You are insured, I reckon.”

Mr. Garza muttered a few choice words in Spanish. Zeke didn't move, except for his hands, which flexed as if itching to make fists. “Just send me a copy of the report.”

“Oh, we'll be seeing each other.” The game warden put on a pair of aviator sunglasses. “I'll have some men put out cage traps. Tell your guys I'd better not see any home jobs. And to be careful what they shoot at. I know they gotta protect their herds, but it would be a shame to kill a returning Mexican wolf or something equally endangered.”

Zeke spoke with remarkable calm. “The only things endangered right now, George, are our cows.”

“Well, I heard you're out here rounding up cattle so you can ride herd on them. That's the thing to do. Just don't go shooting anything out of season if you don't have to.”

The warden nodded to Zeke—whose family's taxes probably paid his salary—and headed toward his truck.

Zeke pulled himself together. When he saw the four of us clustered by the bumper of his truck, he headed over.

“Well,” he said, sounding resigned, “I guess you girls were right about one thing. That monster is definitely not dead.”

I made my tone as light as possible. “I thought you didn't believe in the chupacabra.”

He blew out a sigh and ran his hand through his hair. “I don't know anymore. I'm at the end of my rope. No one knows what the hell it is, except a whole lot of trouble.”

He looked at Justin and Henry, who were flanking me in a strangely protective way. I made belated introductions. “Zeke, this is my friend Justin, and his friend Henry. When they heard we were stuck, with the accident and all, they came down to make sure we were okay.”

It was a weak explanation, and Zeke wasn't fooled, judging by the dubious glance he slanted at me as he offered Justin his hand. “Glad to meet you. I'm Zeke Velasquez.”

“Sorry you're having troubles,” said Justin.

“Thanks.”

The exchange was banal, but there was a territorial wariness to the way they sized each other up with that handshake. I remembered what Zeke had said about feeling responsible for us “girls,” and Justin had certainly proven his protective nature. Henry, of course, was his wingman.

Judging from her wry expression, Lisa must have sensed it, too. We exchanged a look, and I got back to important matters. “The game warden wasn't big on the chupacabra theory, huh?”

Zeke glared toward the tan truck, his voice bitter. “No. He seems to think that we staged this for insurance money.”

“What would be the sense in that?” Henry asked. “This is breeding stock, right? So if all you got was the cost of the animal, you'd still take a loss on all the calves they could produce over time.”

Lisa's eyebrows shot up. “Playing polo has given you a real understanding for livestock, Henry.”

He shrugged. “I'm a Renaissance man.”

I caught the glance that Zeke flicked between them, a little sharper than plain curiosity. “Normally you'd be right,” he said. “But the drought has hit us hard. When the pasture
won't produce, you have to buy hay and feed, which means breeding can become a losing proposition.”

“Which is academic,” I said, “because the game warden doesn't know what he's talking about.”

Zeke smiled slightly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Maggie. But I don't think it would help my case if you told him you thought I was innocent because the chupacabra did it.”

“You said you were out of better ideas.”

He grimaced, then changed the subject. “How'd you end up out here? Did Lisa call you?”

“We were headed over to Lady Acre to see the shrine, but we had some trouble finding it.”

His brow wrinkled in bemusement. “You pick the strangest places to sightsee. How did you find out about that?”

“Teresa told me.”

Understanding dawned, and he stared between the guys and me, incredulous. “Is this about that legend, how the Virgin Mary was supposed to have stopped some cougar attacks way back when?”

“We're just going to go check it out,” I said.

He set his hands on his hips. “I used to go there all the time with my grandmother. It's nothing mystical. Just a nice, peaceful place where people go to pray.”

“Well then, maybe that's all we'll do there.” I could be stubborn, too. The Velasquez family didn't have a lock on obstinacy, though they seemed to be making a run on denial.

“Suit yourself. Just be careful.” He looked at Justin as he said that last bit, putting the responsibility on him to keep us out of trouble.

As if Justin needed to be told. “Don't worry about it,” he said, arms folded.

Zeke nodded, as if that settled things, and turned to Lisa. “I have to get back to rounding up stock and monster-proofing the corrals.”

“You don't need to stay here?” She gestured to the carnage and the workers organizing the cleanup.

“There's not a lot else I can do,” he said. “I'm leaving men to help Rob Garza out, but we need to get the rest of the cattle penned up before the storm comes in, or the helicopter won't be able to fly.”

Lupe called him over, and he gave a be-right-back sign to Lisa before stepping away. She turned to us, pushing her sunglasses up on her head. “What's the deal with this Lady Acre place? What does this shrine have to do with the chupacabra?”

“That's what we're sorting out,” said Justin. “Maggie thinks it's a big piece of the puzzle.”

“You should come with us, Lisa.” I made sure that Zeke, conferring with Lupe and Mr. Garza, was out of earshot. “Your expertise would come in handy. I think there may have been some kind of spell done there to vanquish the demon once before.”

She stared at me, grim-faced but not very surprised. “When did we decide that's what it was?”

“I decided last night, but I didn't want to start calling it that until I had to.” “Chupy” was a lot less scary.

“Okay. Let me tell Zeke I'm going with you. I'll leave the
D
word out of it for now.” She slid her sunglasses back into place. “But don't think the consultation of an evil genius comes cheap.”

“Just meet us at the car, Wile E. Coyote.”

Justin and Henry fell in on either side of me as we walked back to the Escort, our sneakers crunching the dry grass. Both of them had to shorten their strides to match mine. Glancing back at Lisa, Henry asked, “She's joking about the evil genius bit, right?”

“It's hard to tell with Lisa,” Justin answered, then had a question for me. “Is Zeke like his grandmother?”

“Yep. Bone structure of the gods. Denial as wide as the river in Egypt.”

“But no …” He tapped his forehead. “Psychic superpower.”

I stopped walking, forcing them to do the same. “Okay, what's going on? Why the inquisition about Zeke?”

“It's just a couple of questions,” said Justin. “Not an inquisition.” He exchanged a glance with Henry, then forged ahead. “After Teresa's infodump this morning, I couldn't help wondering how serious Lisa is about this guy.”

My jaw dropped open. “There is
no way
she's after him for his money.”

He raised his hands, warding off my fury. “No. This isn't about Lisa.”

Henry stated the obvious. “It's about Zeke.”

“You don't seriously think he's behind this.” My voice squeaked with the effort to keep it from carrying.

Their sober faces were my answer. I stared from one to the other, unable to believe they were tag-teaming me. Me! The only one of us with an Evil-meter in my head. “Why on earth would he summon a demon to kill his own cows?”

Justin spoke in a soothing, don't-fly-off-the-handle
tone. “We noticed when the Old Guys were talking this morning—it's only been his tenant's cows. Not his.”

“Oh, yeah. That makes it so much more believable.” I pointed an accusing finger at Henry. “You don't even really believe in any of this.”

“Actually,” he said calmly, “I was thinking about old-fashioned insurance fraud.”

“Think about it,” said Justin. “If his grandmother vanquished the demon before, maybe he has inside knowledge on releasing it.”

I gestured wildly behind me, to where Zeke was still working on cleaning up the mess and saving the rest of the cattle.
“He
doesn't even believe in the chupacabra, or his grandmother's Sight. He's only humoring Lisa and me because no one can come up with a better plan.”

Justin caught my flailing hand, endangering his life by stepping in close so he could speak almost in my ear. “Here's a better plan, Maggie. Just admit it could be possible, and I won't mention it again.”

Lisa was on her way toward us, which must have prompted his whispered compromise. I tightened my jaw, because I didn't want her to hear this about a guy she was willing to spend the day being Dale Evans for. “Fine. If you and Henry will admit that if I say he's a good guy, I'm probably right.”

“Yes,” he said, squeezing my hand. “You are probably right, and I'm probably wrong. But we'll keep our minds open. Okay?”

I looked at Henry, realizing that I'd put him on the spot, vis-à-vis our tête-à-tête in the Duck Inn. I knew Henry
didn't really believe in my Sight. And his stare back at me said that
he knew
I remembered that.

“Okay,” he said. “I admit
the possibility
that Maggie knows what evil lurks, or doesn't, in the hearts of men.”

Pursing my lips, I gave him points for quoting
The Shadow.
Even bad science fiction movies got credit from me.

Lisa reached us then, stopping warily when she picked up on our mood. “What's going on?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Arguing over who gets to ride—”

“Shotgun,” called Henry, heading for the passenger side of the Escort. Okay, now he had really pissed me off.

Lisa slanted me a look that said she wasn't fooled a bit, but had decided to let it go. She edged around Justin and me and climbed into the backseat.

Justin was still holding my hand, watching me cautiously. “Are we okay?”

My glare was so tart it made my own face hurt. “Am I really angry at you for teaming up against me? Yes. Will I forgive you for it? Only after I get to hear you say that I was right and you were wrong.”

“Deal.” He leaned down and kissed me before I could remind him I was still mad. I was much less mad after that, even though the kiss was way too short to make me completely happy.

L
ady Acre was as picturesque as its name. Or it would have been if the drought hadn't turned the surrounding grass to a carpet of faded brown. Justin pulled off a dirt road onto a level parking space delineated with limestone blocks. A weathered sign read:
SHRINE OF OUR LADY OF PERPETUAL AID.

As I climbed out of the car, I saw that a path led from the parking area, winding around a small hill the way a stream winds around a rock, and into a copse of live oak and mes-quite trees.

The slam of Lisa's door startled a bunch of doves from a clump of grass in the distance. Only then did I realize how still the vista was, and empty.

Henry scanned the pasture, shielding his eyes against the sun. A few gray clouds had started to gather on the horizon, but it remained bright overhead. “Where are all the cattle?”

Lisa twisted her braid up and tucked it under her hat. “They must have been through this area already, herding them up.”

I ducked into the car to grab my camera, popped off the lens cap, and took a few pictures of the terrain. Justin looked at me curiously, and I explained, “If I do live through this, I can use them for my photography final.”

“You better live through this,” Henry said. “We burned a lot of frequent flier miles to rush down here.”

Lisa rolled her eyes and headed for the path indicated by the sign. “Yes, lucky us. What would we poor womenfolk have done if you brave, strong men hadn't shown up?”

We followed her to the trail, which was shaded by twisted live oak trees and lined by rustic chunks of limestone. Despite the sultry heat, I could feel a kind of peace knitting around me. Dragonflies darted across the path. An armadillo trundled out of a thorny bush, took one look at us, and dashed off with startling speed.

The hill that the path circled was as steep as anything I'd seen here. The path curved around, then down into a low spot on the other side, a shallow sort of hollow. Fragrant bushes lined the area, and a large, spreading tree shaded a stone bench.

The focal point of the space was a stone-lined niche, carved into the steep side of the hill that sheltered the low clearing where we stood. A grotto is, traditionally, a small cave where people put statues for either decoration or
worship. This one hardly qualified as a cave; it was more of an alcove, just big enough for a not-quite-life-sized statue of Our Lady of Perpetual Aid, aka the Virgin Mary.