Looking Through Darkness (24 page)

“That won't happen,” she said firmly

“Why not?”

“I'm through being a victim. By the time he takes it from me, the gun will be empty, and he'll have at least six holes in him.”

He nodded. “Okay, then.”

Leigh Ann reached for the doorknob. “What I can't figure out is how he got in.”

“Was this door locked?”

“Yes. I had to unlock it to go out back.”

“And the front door?” he asked, moving past her into the kitchen.

“I used the key to get in.”

Once inside the house, she flipped on the back patio lights and kitchen light switches at the same time. “The lights work now.”

“Is there a third door, maybe leading from the garage to the backyard?” he asked.

“No, but there's a garage window, let me go take a quick look at that.” She hurried, then a moment later, returned. “It's intact, and locked. Whoever it was must have picked one of the locks.”

“You changed the house locks after your keys were stolen from the Jeep, right?” Melvin asked.

“Yes, but come to think of it, it's possible the burglar got in the same way he got out—through an upstairs window.”

“Do you normally leave those open?” Melvin asked.

“The second story can get really hot during the day, so I crack the windows. Since they face the back of the house, I figured it would be okay,” Leigh Ann said. “Guess I was wrong.”

“Is there a tree high enough to reach the roof nearby?”

“Yeah, which is probably how he got down.”

“Let's go upstairs and check things out,” Melvin said.

Pistol still in hand, Leigh Ann led the way to the second story, then down the hall to her bedroom. Inside, she flipped on the light switch and saw the window was wide open. The screen had been pulled off and dropped onto the roof. The curtain rod was dangling loose on one side, the drapes on the floor.

“The window's wide open,” she said, describing everything, including the fact that all her dresser drawers had been emptied and their contents tossed across the carpet.

Leigh Ann set down the pistol, then automatically started scooping up her clothing and dropping them back into the drawers. Then she stopped and began to make a big pile in the center of the room instead. They'd have to go through the hottest wash cycle possible before they ever touched her skin again.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I'm just putting my scattered clothing into a pile so I can wash everything,” she said, then by way of explanation, added, “He touched them.”

“I understand.”

“We'll have to stop at the superstore before going to your house. I want to buy some new underwear,” she said. “Right now I better check out the rest of my room.”

She looked under the bed and saw that the shotgun was still there and the rifle case hadn't been touched. She went to the closet next, but couldn't find anything that even appeared to have been moved. The shelf held her shoes, all stored in plastic boxes, and everything else was on hangers.

With Melvin next to her, she proceeded to go through each room in the house. Soon she determined that the only other place that had been searched was her office. “He sure made a mess,” she said.

“Describe it to me,” Melvin said.

“He opened all the desk drawers and dumped everything on the carpet. I keep my utility bills in an accordion file next to the wall and those have been scattered all over the area rug.”

“Anything else?” he asked, standing in the doorway.

“My old desktop computer is on, so maybe he made a copy of some of my files,” she said, sitting behind the desk.

“What do you keep there?”

“Not much. I use the computer to keep track of my monthly bills and help me stay on budget. I also have my Internet provider loaded into it, but there's nothing earth shattering in there. It doesn't have my bank account numbers or anything like that.”

“You still haven't called the police. Maybe you should do that now,” Melvin said.

“They won't be able to do much because we can't give them a description of the intruder. They probably won't take prints either. Nothing appears to have been taken, not even the shotgun.”

“You've still got to try, Leigh Ann.”

“All right, I'll call,” she said, though she suspected it would be a waste of time.

After returning her pistol to her purse downstairs, she went over to the kitchen area and offered Melvin, who'd followed her, a glass of iced tea. “The dispatcher said because it's not an emergency it'll take a while.”

As they sat down at the dining table, a thick silence settled between them. “I feel as if I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place,” Leigh Ann said, choking up now. “Everything I do seems to endanger other people—you, Rachel, Jo and the trading post.”

“You don't know that's true, Leigh Ann,” he said, reaching for her hand and finding it.

His touch soothed and excited her all at once and she tried to focus on that instead of the fear. “All I ever wanted was a quiet, ordinary life. After Kurt died and I found a job I loved, I thought I'd finally get my chance. I guess I was wrong.”

“You don't know that. Don't try to predict the future,” he said.

“What if I end up getting arrested for a crime I never committed?” She paused. “You know, I've always tried to be the good girl—good ol' dependable Leigh Ann, the one who always plays by the rules. Maybe it's time I made my own rules.”

“That's a better idea. In a situation like this, not doing what others expect will give you the advantage.”

“That sounds like another reason for me to stay at your place.”

“Yeah, exactly,” he said, and smiled. “In fact, you
and
Rachel should both move in with me until this matter is resolved.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I can't take you up on it. I'll stay with you until Rachel's back, but once my sister's home I've got to finish what I've started.”

“Just remember to stay cool and fight smarter, not harder.”

She was about to answer when she heard a loud knock. “Sheriff's department. This is Deputy Mills. You reported a break-in, ma'am?”

Leigh Ann stood to let him in.

“Leigh Ann,” Melvin whispered. “Tell him what he needs to know, but don't volunteer information. Remember: your rules, not theirs.”

“Right,” she said with a nod as she went to open the door.

 

— FIFTEEN —

After the officer left, Leigh Ann took a deep breath and began to pace around the living room. “Now do you see why I didn't want to call them? He wrote up a report, mostly for insurance purposes, and that's it. When the detectives investigating Kurt's death hear about this, they'll assume I set the whole thing up.”

“They're free to come up with as many theories as they want. You can't stop that from happening,” he said. “Just stay focused on finding the truth and shut out everything else. That's the only way you'll win.”

“You're a good friend,” she said, stepping into his open arms. All she'd meant to do was give him a hug, but his body felt so good against hers. In his arms there was safety … and danger.

As he held her tightly against him, her heart began to race. For a brief moment she was tempted to throw caution to the winds and let nature take its course, but if she did, she'd just make things worse.

“Let's go,” she said, moving away reluctantly. “We've got a long drive ahead.”

After stopping at the superstore outside Farmington so she could buy some inexpensive clothes, they continued toward Melvin's place. A few miles from their destination, about halfway up a graveled road and miles from the closest neighbor, she braked at a stop sign.

Immediately after she started up again, they both heard a loud
pop
and the steering started to pull to the right.

“I think we punctured a tire,” she said, compensating with the steering wheel as she came to a stop again. “Let me get out and take a look.”

Leigh Ann glanced around. It was dark here in the middle of nowhere, though there was a glow in the sky from the city to the east. Leaving the engine and the headlights on, she walked around to check the right front tire.

“I've got a flat, Melvin,” she called back. “There's a big board filled with nails stuck to the tire.”

As she brought out the jack and lug wrench, Melvin got out, and felt his way along the side of the Jeep toward the sound of her voice.

Leigh Ann looked over at him just as he froze in midstride and began turning his head to the side.

“Get back in the Jeep,” he whispered harshly. “Drive on the rim if necessary, but let's move. Hurry. Leave the tools.”

She looked around with the flashlight, probing into the waist-high sagebrush. “Huh? It's okay. There's no one around.”

“Yes, there is,” he said. “Give me the lug wrench.”

Leigh Ann did as he asked, then looked around again with the flashlight. “I don't see anyone.”

“Behind you.”

As she turned to look, two men rose from behind the brush just off the road and out of the glow of the headlights. They were wearing masks and camouflage uniforms of some kind. The gleam of knife blades in their hands captured her attention instantly.

“Melvin, knives!”

Both men rushed Melvin, but he swung the lug wrench with deadly accuracy against the first man, catching him with a glancing blow on the arm. He tucked his left shoulder down and stiff-armed the second man in the chest, sending him stumbling backward. Both attackers backed off a few steps.

Leigh Ann, now behind Melvin, reached inside the Jeep through the open window for her purse and pulled out her gun. “Don't move or I'll shoot you full of holes!” she said, stepping past Melvin for a clear line of sight.

The men spun around and ran off into the brush.

Leigh Ann fired once at their legs, barely missing the slower of the two. As she took aim again they both vanished into the dark.

“Leigh Ann, stay low and keep your back to the Jeep. Save your bullets and call the sheriff's department.”

She stepped back to where he was and crouched beside him, her revolver out and ready. It took a little longer calling 911 with only one shaky hand, but no way she was putting down her revolver until the deputies arrived. She was scared, tired, and most of all, confused.

“They targeted
you,
Melvin, not me. Why?” she said, her voice low.

“Maybe they saw me as the bigger threat, the one they needed to neutralize first,” he answered. “That was until you brought out the pistol.”

“It's obvious now that the board filled with nails was put there to set us up for an ambush. But why? What did they think we had?”

“Maybe they were looking for whatever it was they failed to find at your house earlier,” Melvin said.

“Could have been Wayne and Pierre?”

“The men I fought off weren't both Anglo.”

“How do you know that?”

“When I hit one with the lug wrench, he grunted, then said ‘
shicho'
in perfect Navajo.”

“What's it mean?”

“
Shich
ó
with accent over the
o
just means ‘my' as in yours, mine, and so on. But without the accent, the high tone, it means male genitalia.”

“Oh.”

“As I said, he was Navajo. And there was something about the voice—I've heard it before … somewhere,” he said. “Don't worry, it'll come to me. We'll figure it out once we're at my place. For the moment, though, we have to stay alert and wait for the sheriff.”

*   *   *

“So they both came at Mr. Littlehorse?” the young deputy verified, looking at Leigh Ann, who nodded. He glanced at Melvin, and noting his expressionless eyes, added, “Are you completely blind?”

“Not a hundred percent, no, but at night I can't even make out shapes unless the object is bathed in enough light to present a silhouette,” Melvin answered.

“And you're sure the attackers wore gloves?” he asked Leigh Ann.

“I'm sure.”

“I can second that,” Melvin said. “I took a grazing punch and felt hide, not knuckles, against the side of my face. I could also smell the leather. The gloves were probably new.”

Leigh Ann watched a second deputy put the knife into a bag, then write something on the paper. “Can you trace that without fingerprints?”

“We'll try, but this is a very common, inexpensive hunting knife, the kind that's for sale at every sporting goods store and Walmart across the country,” he said, his gaze on the other officers working the area.

“Is there any way to track these men down now?” she asked.

“We found where their vehicle was parked, so we'll be taking tire impressions. Boot prints will also give us each man's approximate height and weight. We may even be able to identify the brand they wore. Of course, if Mr. Littlewater can recall whose voice he heard and come up with the name of his Navajo assailant, we'll bring the suspect in for questioning.”

The deputy helped Leigh Ann change the flat, while the other officers collected the evidence, including the tire and nail-studded board.

After another half hour, Leigh Ann and Melvin were back in the Jeep heading to his home.

“I'm surprised they didn't take your .38,” Melvin said after a while. “You still have it, right?”

“Yeah, I told him I keep it in plain view while driving at night—which is legal—and that I'd fired it at the men once. The deputy who checked the cylinder confirmed that, then wrote down the revolver's serial number and put the weapon back on my car seat. If I'd hit one of the men, or there was blood anywhere, I'm sure the cops would have taken it. The deputy said I'd done the right thing defending myself. He even gave me a little advice about aiming a pistol in low-light conditions.”