Looking Through Darkness (31 page)

“All right, Wayne. I'm here. Now what's going on?”

“You have no idea what you're stirring up, Leigh Ann,” he blurted out in anger. “Kurt set up a phony vendor, Frank Jones, and was bleeding our company. When Pierre noticed there was no inventory from Jones, he gave the vendor a call and discovered that the number was out of service. An Internet aerial map search for the listed business address showed a vacant lot.

“Kurt was handling the account exclusively, sending company checks to a mail service address. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on,” Wayne added bitterly.

“Did Pierre confront Kurt?” she asked.

“Not at first.” Wayne took a nervous look down the highway in both directions, then climbed out of the pickup and stood with her beside the Jeep, arms across his chest. “He staked out the UPS store and saw Kurt picking up the checks. Pierre had him then, but he and I talked about it and decided to confront Kurt during our hunting trip. A private meeting on neutral ground sounded like a good idea. All we were planning to do was force Kurt to pay back the money, but things got crazy.”

“What happened?” Leigh Ann asked, grateful for having brought the revolver with her. If Wayne admitted to murder, she'd become an instant loose end and she doubted he'd let her just walk away. Maybe she should have followed Melvin's advice after all and brought backup.

“Listen to me, Leigh Ann,” he whispered harshly, not answering her question. “Bad things are going to keep happening to you and your friends, including that blind guy, unless you come up with the money Kurt stole. Then you need to back off. Sell your house. Do whatever it takes. Pierre's patience has run out.”

“Pierre and Sorrelhorse were the ones who attacked Melvin and me a few nights ago, right?”

He started nodding, caught himself, then put his shaking hands into his pants pockets. “I've already said too much. I won't hurt you, but I can't speak for Pierre or the tribal people who've been taking money under the table. Pierre's the one who shot Kurt with the rifle he swiped from your house.”

“But you were the one who cleaned out Kurt's storage compartment, aren't you? I don't have the missing money, so tell me. Did you decide to keep it for yourself and tell Pierre it wasn't there?”

He shook his head and took a quick look back down the road. “No way.”

“Okay, I believe you, but even if you didn't keep the money, that possibility is bound to occur to Pierre, too, if it hasn't already. What if he decides that you and Kurt were working together and ripped him off?”

“He knows I wouldn't do that. You're the one who's in danger. Get the money fast, any way you can. I'll try to stall Pierre a little longer. I think he'll back off if he knows you're not going to be a problem. He—”

Suddenly there was a thump, and Wayne's chest erupted in an explosion of blood. He gasped as she heard a gun go off somewhere down the road.

“Wayne!” A bullet hole appeared in the Jeep and a second gunshot blast followed, a split second behind the impact. She dove to the ground, hiding behind the tire and trying to fight the choking terror that gripped her as she looked down the road for the shooter. Remembering the .38, she reached into her purse and brought it out, trying to figure out where to aim.

Wayne slowly sagged to his knees and fell to the ground. Leigh Ann was splashed with something wet and warm—his blood, she realized with a shock. Trying not to scream, she rolled to her left, scrambling to get farther under the Jeep.

On her back now, she switched the pistol from her right hand to the left and groped for the cell phone in her pocket. She needed to call for help, not record the sounds of her own death.

A horn began blaring frantically from the direction of the highway. A heartbeat later, the whine of a bullet passed overheard, coming from the same direction. Looking, she saw a bright red pickup racing toward the barn. Ambrose John was at the wheel and he had one hand out the driver's side window. Leigh Ann heard another bang and realized he was shooting at someone, the person who'd shot Wayne.

The gunfire continued from both directions as Leigh Ann scrunched down, trying to be as small as possible. After three futile attempts, she managed to quit shaking enough to stop the recording and call 911.

 

— NINETEEN —

Detective McGraw walked over from his vehicle, notebook in hand, and joined Leigh Ann as the crime scene team continued to search the area. “We've located the sniper's position and are gathering evidence there. According to Mr. John, who broke up the attack, the shooter was using his vehicle door as a rest for a rifle. The footprints and tire tracks back that up, and we have a description of the vehicle, a new-looking silver SUV. But there are still things we need to know.”

“I've told you everything I can remember about what happened,” she said. “You've also got the recording I made of my conversation with Wayne Hurley. You copied it to your own phone, correct?”

“Yes, and thanks. However, we'll need actual physical evidence and witness testimony in order to make an arrest,” McGraw said. “What you've gotten by going all cowboy on us is a lot of hearsay evidence
.
”

“But you also have another murder victim, plus a recording that should point you directly to his killer. In addition to that, the vehicle Ambrose saw is probably the SUV owned by Pierre Boone. If I'd brought a witness or the police along to this meeting, you think Wayne would have said anything besides hi and good-bye?”

“It was still a risky thing to do, and you could have ended up dead, along with your friends.”

“I doubt that,” Ambrose said, coming up. “I was closing in. If he hadn't jumped into his SUV and raced away, I would have taken him out.”

“There's a good chance that you wounded him,” McGraw said. “We found drops of blood on the ground beside the shell casings from the sniper's rifle.”

“He was hunched over, sighting down the barrel, so I didn't have a good sight picture,” Ambrose said with no particular inflection in his voice. “Still, I'm guessing there's a hole or two in that door.”

“Copy that. You have a concealed carry permit, and this Colt .45 is your registered weapon. You might want to call the department tomorrow and see when they'll be able to release it to you.”

Ambrose nodded.

“If we're free to go, I have to get back to work,” Leigh Ann said.

McGraw nodded. “There's a bullet hole in your Jeep, so you'll have to leave it behind for now. We'll need to process it for evidence, too.”

“How long before I get it back? It's my only transportation.”

“It shouldn't be long, maybe by the end of today if you're lucky.”

*   *   *

Leigh Ann rode back with Ambrose and Melvin. “Thanks for checking up on me, guys, and for driving away that gunman, Ambrose,” she said, her purse on her lap. “You saved my life.”

“I understand why you felt you had to do this,” Melvin said, “but there's a reason why even cops take backup.”

“I didn't expect anyone to start shooting,” she said.

“Precisely my point,” Melvin answered.

Ambrose, who'd been quiet for a while, finally spoke. “I get you, Leigh Ann. I know exactly why you came alone. Your back was against the wall and you needed to prove something to yourself, no matter what anyone else thought.”

She looked over at him, the raw undertone in his words immediately capturing her attention.

“Back in high school, I was the weird gay guy, the pussy no one except Ben would hang out with. After graduation Ben left for the army and got his shit together, but I was still at loose ends. At the time, the military wasn't an option for me.

“Around then, my uncle got diagnosed with cancer and asked me to help him finish a few pieces of Navajo jewelry he'd presold.”

“So that's how you got started!” Leigh Ann said.

“I learned all I could from him, but for a long time I resisted making my own pieces. I'd just worked on his designs. Eventually, my uncle passed on and left his tools and supplies to me—along with a letter. In it, he said he understood I was tired of being judged, but that for the first time I was being given an even chance. My pieces would be valued on their own merit. The only question that remained was whether or not I had the balls to go for it.”

“You really didn't know how good your own designs were?” she asked, surprised.

“No, I was pretty clueless. All of my life I'd been the guy who didn't fit in anywhere. For all I knew, people would see my designs the same way. That's why I went to Santa Fe to sell my pieces instead of Gallup or Farmington. I figured if I failed, it was far enough away I wouldn't have to hear about it constantly, and it wouldn't matter as much.” He smiled. “Of course, I sold everything the first day, even with all the competition.”

“Way to go!” Melvin said.

Ambrose smiled at Leigh Ann. “Meeting Wayne wasn't just about clearing your name, was it, Leigh Ann?”

She gave him a thin smile. “No, it wasn't,” she admitted.

Leigh Ann reached for Melvin's hand. “Melvin, you've been there for me every step of the way, and I appreciate it, but I needed to face my enemies without hiding behind someone else. I had to prove that my fears couldn't control me,” she added. “Wayne Hurley was the one who paid the price.”

“If you saw him as the weak link, you can bet Pierre did too,” Ambrose said. “He followed Wayne today because he didn't trust him. Wayne's days were already numbered.”

“Maybe so,” she admitted. “But I'll never go solo like this again. Things can go wrong in the blink of an eye.”

*   *   *

Leigh Ann was at the back register talking to a customer who was purchasing groceries when her cousin Dale walked in wearing his sheriff's department uniform: a khaki shirt and green trousers with the usual handgun and cuffs. Surprised, she smiled and waved at him. “Be with you in a minute.”

Dale waited until Leigh Ann was finished, then joined her. “Can we talk in private?”

Jo, who'd seen Dale enter the trading post, caught Leigh Ann's attention and nodded toward the back. “Take my office.”

Leigh Ann led the way down the short hall and waved him to one of the chairs as she leaned back against Jo's desk. “I wasn't expecting to see you, cuz. Are you working with McGraw now?”

“Not officially,” he said. “I came because I wanted to make damned sure you never pull another stunt like the one you did today. I know you want to clear your name, but getting zipped up in a body bag isn't going to help you much.”

She forced herself not to cringe. “Have they talked to Pierre Boone yet?”

“No. According to a clerk at Total Supply, Boone said he had to catch up to Wayne so he could sign some papers, then left. He never came back and he's turned off his cell phone. We're attempting to locate him now. If anything turns up, I'll let you know. Until then, be very careful and avoid being alone.”

“What about Sorrelhorse? How's he involved?”

“Tribal police detectives are talking to him, but until some concrete evidence pops up, law enforcement is still just fishing.”

“Melvin's sure it was him,” she said.

“A voice ID alone doesn't hold up well in court, Leigh Ann.”

“He's blind, but incredibly attuned to his surroundings. His testimony is reliable.”

“I have no reason to question his honesty, but he's been wrong before. I read some of the old accident reports, even going back to the childhood auto accident when his sister was killed. After the second wreck, years later, he reported having seen a young girl on the scene. No one was ever found, and there were too many footprints to prove one way or the other. The shrinks think he may have just gotten the two incidents confused, the result of confusion and head trauma. Besides, we need more than what he heard. Voices are easy to mimic, and we deal in facts.”

Leigh Ann walked Dale to the door. As they stepped out onto the porch, his cell phone rang. Dale looked at the display. “Tribal police, I've got to take this. Hang on a second, Leigh Ann.”

She nodded, then turned away to give him some privacy. The call didn't take long, and when she turned to face him, he was smiling.

“Some good news,” he said. “The tribal police have arrested Sorrelhorse. The DNA taken from the blood on the tire iron that Melvin used to knock away the attacker's knife has been tracked back to Sorrelhorse's assistant, a man named Benally. Benally asked for a deal with the DA and turned his boss in for taking bribes and kickbacks. According to Benally, Sorrelhorse reviewed every contract offer that came in and was tipping off Total Supply so they could undercut everyone else.”

“Finally!” she said smiling. “That's great.”

“There's more: Benally confessed to throwing the paint and planting some witchcraft objects at the trading post. He also claimed that Sorrelhorse was the one who poisoned Rudy Brownhat,” Dale added.

“I'm guessing Pierre was one of the guys with the baseball bats and knives,” she said.

“I agree, which means you've still got to watch your back, Leigh Ann. We've got hard evidence now, but this is far from over,” Dale warned.

When she went back inside, Melvin came in to join her. “I was in the break room, but you must have left the office door open because I heard most of your conversation, including what your cousin told you about my twin sister. How did you find out about her?”

“When Sam did her Internet search to see if any girls had been reported missing around the time of your accident, she found an old newspaper account of what happened to your family. I was waiting for you to tell me when the time was right.”

He nodded slowly. “I took my sister's death very hard. She and I were as opposite as two people could be, but we were still as close as, well, twins. What made things even worse were the rumors that started circulating about me,” he said.