Tainted Mountain (11 page)

Sixteen

Watching the truck loaded
with pipeline inching up the slope should fill Nora with triumph. Three months ago, she feared she'd end up selling the ski lift on eBay and peddling used rental skis on the street corner.

Back then, Scott was still alive and planning to leave her. The 9th District court was weighing its decision on snow making. Abigail was shopping in New York and though Nora fretted about losing Kachina Ski, she hadn't yet learned real fear.

A ski area in Arizona sounded crazy. But Kachina Ski opened in 1935 and was one of the oldest ski slopes in the country. Sure, the drive to a desert took only an hour, but this mountain rose to nearly 13,000 feet. The runs didn't rival Colorado or Utah resorts, but Kachina Ski held its own and even managed to be profitable. That is, until Nora took over, which happened to coincide with a five-year-long—and counting—drought.

But this pipeline proved she could conquer the drought, and with Barrett's help, she'd have Abigail shopping for shoes in another time zone in no time. By Christmastime this mountain would be covered in snow, whether Mother Nature felt up to the task or not.

Why did it make her stomach ache to think of it?

The sun glared overhead, heating the pines and releasing their pungent perfume over a mountainside covered in June's wildflowers. Enormous black ravens cawed and glided from treetops and over the wide swathe of grass-covered ski run. The day sparkled brilliantly on her mountain, but it might as well have been sleeting.

Nora plodded up the slope, following the truck with its load of pipe rolled like giant spools of fire hose. Its tires tore the ground like the Jolly Green Giant's golf divots.

A quiet voice filtered through the truck's struggle. “Miss.”

The slip of a man, the kachina salesmen from the courthouse, stood behind her. His approached must have been masked by the roar of the truck. He stood without moving, his black eyes focused on her face.

If he breathed, Nora couldn't see the movement. Though nothing about him was threatening, Nora's pulse quickened. Maybe he'd brought Alex with him. “You. What do you want?”

His eyes shifted slowly to the truck, which stopped at a level place to unload the hose. The sorrow on his face was clear and heart wrenching.

The rolls of hose stacked on the flatbed would be unrolled and laid on the ground alongside the run. The pump would shoot water and air through the hose to the sprayers. Snow, directly from the abundant aquifer. God, it was good to be an American.

It should have been a triumphant day on her mountain—well, her sliver of it, anyway
. I will not feel guilty, damn it.
This guy needed to go away.

He brought his gaze back to her. “Will you … ?” He spoke in clipped words, as if English wasn't natural for him. He pointed to the hose.

He didn't look like the placard-bearing, rally-calling, hysterical religious fanatics that fought her for years. That didn't mean he wouldn't turn on her any minute. “It's for snow making, yes.”

He nodded so slowly he barely moved. Those eyes carried deep sadness.

Nope. I am not feeling bad for bringing water to the mountain
. Nora turned away from him and hiked to the truck. Maybe if she ignored him, he'd disappear like he did at the courthouse. She waved to the driver when he climbed from the cab. “We want to stack the rolls right here.”

He pulled a clipboard from the cab. “I gotta do the paperwork.”

Nora walked next to the rumbling truck, ignoring the diesel fumes. She put a hand on the sun-heated hose, the veins that would pump the blood to keep Kachina Ski alive.

“Miss.”

Nora jumped. That gentle voice raised the hairs on her neck. She hated it, but it almost felt like he belonged here more than she did.

He pulled a ratty bag from his back. “I brought you my kachinas.”

The crude doll with the blue mask broken and floating in the gutter flashed in her mind. “No thanks. I lost the last one.”

While his hand rummaged in the bag, he stared into her face.

The two top rolls shifted. Nora skittered away from the truck.

They settled. The driver must be ready to unload. “Excuse me,” Nora said to the little man. She strode away to talk to the driver.

Holding his bag in front of him, the man stared up at the hose.

Something moved on top of the truck.

The top two rolls of hose shifted again and the straps holding the stack upright slipped to the ground. Lightning flashed inside Nora as she realized the hose was no longer strapped to the truck. If the little man didn't move now, the hose could fall and flatten him.

The unstable roll slipped from the top.

Why didn't the little man react?

The whole pile started to topple. Still the Native American man stood motionless.

The top of the load rolled, followed by the others. Nora's body took over, legs pumping up the slope, perhaps her voice shouting, hands in front of her.

The man stayed rooted to the mountain.

Nora smashed into him like a defensive tackle, pushing both of them out of the way of the crashing hose. She landed on top of his small frame. The ground vibrated with the impact of the nearby falling freight.

Still pulsing with adrenaline, Nora dug her feet into the dirt and tried to scoot them farther away.

Too late. A heavy weight crushed her ankle, sending hot waves of pain shooting up her leg and spine. Several more hits felt like someone with a sledgehammer pounding her shin.

And then silence. Not even a raven cawed.

Nora opened her eyes and pulled her face from the ground. She still lay on top of the little man and tried to move but the hose pinned her calves. She managed to shift enough for him to wiggle out. Throbbing pain made everything below her waist ignite in flames.

Behind her, the truck bed sat empty except for two rolls of hose. The remainder of the load spread across the slope, with one roll on her legs.

“Nora!” Cole appeared next to her head. He reached for her hand, his eyes searching her face. “Are you okay?”

Her throat tightened and she fought panic. He always showed up just as something awful happened, and that couldn't be a coincidence. Somehow Cole caused this accident in an effort to shut her up about the bribery. She struggled with the desire to get away from him.

Cole shouted at the driver. “Help me get this off her!”

The overweight driver scurried around Nora's head and grunted. The weight on her legs lightened and Nora held her breath against the throbbing. It hurt like hell but she could move her legs. Celebrate life's little victories.

Cole knelt beside her. “Can you stand up?”

She struggled for strength but her voice sounded weak. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you thinking jumping under the hose?”

“That man … ”
Yee-ow!
No way could Nora stand. “Ankle,” she said between clenched teeth.

Cole bent over to examine the foot she raised. His lean fingers tested the purpling flesh.

The raw agony nearly made Nora pee. “Stop!”

“Sorry.”

She gently rotated the ankle in question slowly, the pain galloping all the way up her leg.

“It's sprained. I can wrap it,” Cole said.

“Just leave me alone!”

“Hey, buddy.” The driver stood next to the hose. “What do you want me to do?”

Cole shrugged. “Finish unloading the truck and stack it.”

The driver shot Nora an annoyed look. “I was told there would be help.”

Maybe the kachina man could use a few bucks. “What about that guy?”

Both men gave her a puzzled look.

She scanned the slope, suddenly worried he'd been injured. “Where did he go?”

Cole followed her gaze. “Who?”

“That Native American guy I was talking to.”

“Before the hose fell? I didn't see anyone,” Cole said.

Nora looked at the driver. “You saw him. I tried to shove him out of the way of the falling hose.”

The driver shrugged. “I was doing the paperwork.”

The aching in her ankle overrode everything else. “Load it, leave it. I don't care.”

No doubt drawn by the roar of tumbling hoses, Abigail appeared out of nowhere, just as she used to whenever Nora was in some kind of mischief. “What is going on? Oh! My baby!”

Cole put Nora's arm around his shoulder. “Stack it. You've got a dolly on your truck.”

Nora shrugged, trying to back away from Cole. But she couldn't stand on her own.

“I gotta get back on the road, man,” the driver said.

The little guy had been right here. Where could he have gone? Was he working for Cole and Barrett too?

The expression Abigail turned on the trucker would make a werewolf whimper. “If you looked before you unstrapped the load, you would have seen my daughter and not released the strap. I'm sure your supervisor won't like that report.”

The driver jutted his head. “Hey lady, I didn't unstrap the hose. I was in the cab.”

Abigail pulled a cell phone from her pocket and looked at the phone number of the company advertised on the side of the truck. “And why do you suppose the hose suddenly let loose?”

Pain was making Nora sweat now. The sun beat on her head as well, giving her maybe two minutes before her hair burst into flames. “It doesn't matter whose fault it is. Let's just move.”

Controlled anger tightened Abigail's voice. “You might have been killed.” She glared at the driver. “Your negligence caused bodily harm, so be helpful or you could be in worse trouble.”

Nora felt sorry for the driver. He probably had nothing to do with the accident. Cole, the man who held her upright, was Nora's main suspect.

The driver puffed up his shoulders. “I ain't in any trouble, lady. I checked out at the yard. You don't have nothin' on me.”

Nora's head and ankle throbbed in rhythm. She wanted off the slope. “Buddy,
lawsuit
is her middle name.”

The driver's shoulders dropped slightly. “Whatever.”

Cole helped Nora take a step and spoke to the driver over his shoulder. “I'll come back and help.”

In the presence of witnesses, Cole might as well help her to the lodge. He couldn't do anything to her now, could he?

The slope opened wide before them with the lodge looking like it sat in another country. Each step they took wiggled her injured ankle and sent waves of hot lava shooting through her.
Another day in paradise.

They hadn't gone far when the driver called out, his tone smug. “Hey, lady. Take a look at this.”

The driver held one piece of strap and tugged the end from under a roll of hose. He held up both pieces.

Abigail marched to him and snatched one away. After inspecting, she dropped it and stomped toward Nora and Cole.

“I need to call the police.” She marched closer. “This will convince Officer Gary that your life is in danger and you didn't kill Scott for the life insurance.”

Ankle, head, now her nerves were on fire. “What do you mean convince him I didn't kill Scott?”

Abigail waved her hand at the annoyance of it all. “Gary called on your cell and I answered. He wanted to know about Scott's life insurance so I found it. Your files are a mess.”

What about Barrett's expensive lawyer? Nora was pretty sure he wouldn't want Abigail handing over anything to the cops. Nora gritted her teeth at the pain in her ankle. “I don't know who killed Scott, but I've got a good idea who's behind this
accident.” She glared at Cole.

The man acted as if he didn't know what she meant. “Use that cell phone in your pocket,” he said to Abigail.

“Battery's dead. It's this high altitude. Nothing holds a charge for long.”

Cole laughed. “Good thing Mr. Truck Driver didn't know that.”

Nora planted her good foot. “What is going on?”

Abigail squinted in rage. “Someone sliced the straps.”

“Cole sliced the straps, Mother.”

He froze under the arm that was held over his shoulders for support.

Abigail laughed. “Don't be ridiculous.” She marched ahead then turned around. “Let's go. Nora can't stand out here in the sunshine on that bad ankle.”

Seventeen

Hours later Nora leaned
her head against the warm siding of the lodge and closed her eyes to the sun. Resting on an old lawn chair Abigail had scrounged up, her examined and bandaged leg elevated on a stool, she reached down and patted Abbey's head.

The peaceful setting warred with her emotions. Being relegated to sitting on the deck felt as bad as imprisonment. She needed action to calm the growing panic.

“There you are.” Abigail came from the lodge.

“Right where you left me.”

“What a beautiful day. I've made mint iced tea and we can sit here all afternoon and talk.”

Was it possible the falling hose actually killed Nora? Because she had to be in hell. She closed her eyes again. “When are you going to find a new home?”

Glasses clinked on the bench next to Nora. “I couldn't think of leaving you now.”

“Abbey and I can get along fine on our own.”

“Don't be silly. Your dog can't fix you tea and provide con-
versation.”

“No. But I like him better.” Why did she say things like that? Abigail didn't cause these problems. Her mother needed help and a place to stay, not hurtful comments just because things were going badly for Nora.

Charlie's voice boomed from the base of the deck stairs. “Greetings mountain nymphs.”

Abigail froze momentarily. She then sprang to her feet and leapt to the apartment stairs.

Pretty spry for her age
, Nora thought.

But she was too late. Charlie bounded onto the deck in his own spry move, not like a graying, hippie alcoholic, but more like a teenager in love. Abigail was caught.

Despite Nora's earlier resolve to be a kinder, gentler daughter, she cracked up.

“Look who I found on the trail,” Charlie said.

Cole appeared behind Charlie. His sandy-colored hair fell across his forehead. “How are you feeling?”

Cole pretended to be charming and Abigail obviously bought into it. He'd acted all shocked and hurt when Nora accused him of slicing the straps, but maybe he was an excellent performer. She should go to Officer Gary with her suspicions, and tell him—what? That she overheard a conversation between Cole and Barrett about illegal things? That would hardly prove Cole tried to smash her, and it would only make her sound like a hysterical peabrain.

But he was always around to “save” her.

Exactly. Why was he always around when things went south?

Gee, Nora, maybe because
everything
is going bad lately?
If he was going to be around at all, he'd be witness to bad things.

“How thoughtful of you, Cole,” Abigail said.

Nora waved a hand at her foot propped on the chair. “I hate to disappoint you, but the falling hose only gave me a sore ankle. Not even sprained.”

“Nora!” Abigail acted predictably aghast.

“Come on, Mother. Why was he here when the hose fell?”

Cole looked embarrassed. “I wasn't stalking you. I was at Scott's murder site looking for some clue to who killed him.”

Charlie nodded. “That's right. We've been over that place again and again. Cole says you don't know who Scott worked for. D'you 'spose he left some papers or something around so we can figure out who offed him?”

Charlie and Cole were working together? Charlie always protected Nora. Abigail trusted Cole. Cole gave off honest and kind vibes. Trust him or not?

“If you believe the cops, I did it,” Nora said.

Cole sighed. “I don't believe the cops and that means you're in danger until we figure out who did it and why. Case in point,” he said, gesturing to her raised foot.

“And you care, why?”

“Of course he cares,” Abigail said.

Abigail was in full match-making mode.

Cole stared at her ankle. “Someone has to take care of you. You won't do it for yourself.”

Nora closed her eyes and leaned her head against the lodge. “Are you taking care of me or planning to kill me?”

Charlie and Abigail both laughed.

No one took her seriously.

“You could talk to the police,” Abigail said to Cole. “That Gary man said they'd look into it, but he's incompetent at best. And I'm sure he's out to get Nora.”

Nora aimed daggers at Abigail with her eyes. Now Cole knew the cops had no leads. “Charlie, didn't you tell me columbine's blooming behind the lodge? I'm sure Abigail would love to see that.”

Charlie had Abigail's hand tucked into his arm before she could break and run. “It is beauty to rival mortals, though it doesn't come close to your heavenly dazzle.”

Abigail's eyes pleaded with Nora for rescue as Charlie led her away, extolling her beauty with each step.

Nora smirked at the iced tea Abigail had brought out and then up at Cole. “My mother just made tea. Please have some.”

He sat next to her on the bench and took a glass.

Nora watched him raise it to his lips, weighing whether setting him up like this was cruel and unusual punishment for him nearly killing her.

He took several gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing. When he lowered the glass his eyes grew wide, his mouth contorted. “Your mother made this?”

Nora gave him her sweetest smile and nodded.

“And you think
I'm
trying to kill
you
?” He picked up her glass and hot-footed it to the railing, dumping both glasses over. “You don't need to thank me.”

Nora fought giggles.

Cole set the empty glasses next to Nora, then sat down and leaned forward, eyes intense. “Who do you think cut the straps?”

“You.”

His eyes crinkled with laughter. “Seriously.”

“I am serious.”

He stood up and paced the deck, long legs striding. He stopped in front of her. “I'm trying to keep you alive, but you're not helping. Get out of this deal with Barrett. Quit snow making. You know it's not good for the mountain, and hooking up with Barrett might get you killed.”

These words echoed her own doubts, which only made Nora angrier. “You're in Barrett's back pocket! Suddenly you're all environmental and down on McCreary?”

“You don't know what's going on.”

“Enlighten me.”

He stared at her, an obvious battle waging in his mind. Finally he puffed out air. “Please. Just trust me. In the meantime, you and Abigail should move to town.”

“We're not going anywhere. All your scare tactics won't work to stop snow making.”
Forget about stopping it—with Barrett at the controls, I can't even slow it down
.

“I don't care about the snow making. I mean, I don't think it's a good idea, but that's not the point. Barrett is dangerous.”

She batted her eyes at him. “I get it. You don't want Barrett to be my partner because you're concerned for my
safety
.”

“Yes.”

And he looked earnest. How could he confuse her so much?

The putter of a car floated to the deck.

A soft tinkle of Abigail's laugh preceded her arrival from the back of the deck. When she caught sight of Nora, she sobered. “I don't appreciate you sending me off with that Gonzo.”

Charlie appeared with the satisfied grin of someone awarded a blue ribbon. He winked at Nora.

Abigail hurried to the rail. “I wonder who this could be?”

If the current trend held, it wouldn't be good news.

Abbey let out a mild woof as they all stared down the stairs and waited.

In a moment a young, heavy-set woman with too much eye makeup trudge up the stairs. She sidestepped a curious Abbey. “Are you Nora Abbott?” She carried a cardboard box that looked heavy.

Nora nodded.

The girl plopped the box on the bench, knocking over one of the iced tea glasses. “Sorry.” She didn't look sorry. Despite the heavy black outlining her eyes, they were red and puffy and her whole face looked swollen. Her thick lips turned down at the edges.

Abigail hurried over and picked up the glass. “We haven't met. I'm Nora's mother, Mrs. Stoddard.” She held out her hand as if meeting a dowager at a garden party. “This is Cole Huntsman.” The warmth in her voice plummeted to subfreezing. “And this is Charlie.”

The girl looked confused. “I'm Teresa. Maureen's roommate.”

A garrote sliced through Nora's neck.

Abigail smiled warmly. “Maureen? I'm sorry, I don't … ”

Nora held up her hand and interrupted. “Never mind, Mother.” She looked at Teresa and made her voice as unwelcoming as possible. “What do you and
Maureen
want?”

A little hiccup of distress slipped from Abigail.

With surprising speed, Teresa's eyes filled with tears that then gushed down her face. “Maureen would want to be alive.”

Silence. The confusing sentence started to make dreadful sense. Nora would rather sprint to the other side of the mountain on her painful ankle than ask. “What do you mean?”

Teresa wiped a pudgy arm under her nose. “She's dead. I don't know what to do with this stuff and since it belonged to your husband anyway, I thought you might want it, but if you don't I'll take it away.” Teresa dissolved into great heaving sobs.

Always ready, Abigail pulled a tissue from her trouser pocket. Of course, it was unused. “You poor dear.”

It seemed hard to recall that Abigail was Satan's handmaid. She didn't know Teresa or Maureen, had to be repulsed by Teresa's physical appearance, and yet here she was, all comfort and grace.

Unlike Nora, who hadn't the slightest idea how to react. What do you say when your husband's mistress (now that's an old-fashioned term) dies? Maureen wasn't high on her list of favorites, but she didn't wish her dead. “I'm sorry.”

Charlie and Cole couldn't even drum up that much.

Teresa lifted her head from Abigail's shoulder. The black smear on Abigail's dry-clean-only shell proved that waterproof makeup wasn't perfect. “It's just not fair, you know? Not long ago she was so happy. She was planning on getting married … ”

To my husband.
Nora's stomach lurched.

Another sob. “You can't imagine how hard it was for her when he died.”

Can't I?

Abigail patted Teresa's back. “I'm sure it was awful.”

Teresa nodded. “At least she's not in any more pain.”

What a stupid thing to say.
Nora would learn to live without Scott, and she was sure Maureen could have gotten over him too. But Maureen would never have the opportunity to love again. She wouldn't feel the sunshine on her face or eat a bite of dark chocolate or even be annoyed by a deranged mother.

Nora's throat closed and an artesian flow rushed through her head, forcing tears. “I'm sorry,” she said again.

Cole sat next to Nora and put a hand on her back. Surprisingly, Nora didn't want to brush it off.

Teresa gave Nora an appraising look. “You don't seem like such a bad person. I mean, you don't know what goes on in someone else's life, but you don't seem as cold as he said.”

Nora's stomach lurched again.

Cole stood up. “Do you need anything else?”

“Well, there's that box of stuff and … I guess that's all.”

Cole held Teresa's arm and walked her away.

Abigail took over from Cole and ushered Teresa down the stairs. “Thank you for bringing his things,” Abigail said. “I'm sure you understand. Losing a husband is one of the most difficult situations to endure. I myself have buried two husbands … ” Their voices thankfully faded.

Nora struggled to remember something she'd thought earlier. Yes. Sunshine on her face, dark chocolate, annoying mothers. Small things. She lifted her face to the sun and reached down to pat Abbey's head.

Light footsteps tapped across the deck and stopped in front of her. “You need to develop dignity,” Abigail said. “You can't fall apart at every revelation of Scott's secret life. You are above that tacky display. Now pull yourself together because Barrett is on his way up the trail.”

“Barrett McCreary?” Nora leveled her head and looked at Abigail.

“How many Barretts do you know?” Like a general dismissing his troops, Abigail nodded at Charlie and Cole. “We have issues to discuss regarding Kachina Ski. Thank you for stopping by.”

With her arms outstretched, she herded them toward the back of the lodge. She returned to stand in front of Nora. “You really ought to go inside and put on some makeup, but I suppose you'll do.”

Nora took the offered tissue. Did Abigail have a never-ending supply in her pockets? And yet, her slacks had no telltale bulges. Too bad she didn't use her magic for good. “Thanks for the compliment.”

Abigail patted her own hair and applied lipstick from some other hidden pocket. “He's important to us.”

“Us?”

Abigail faced the stairs, flexing her shoulders like an athlete stretching for competition. “Don't forget it's his funding that's keeping this place alive.”

Right. Nora studied her leg propped up on the bench. Kachina Ski might survive, but would she and her mother?

Abbey's tail thumped the deck and Charlie trudged around the corner from the back. “Hidy ho, ladies.”

Abigail rolled her eyes. “You couldn't just go?”

He sidled over and sat next to Nora in a puff of beer and forest scent. “I've got interests to protect.” Nora welcomed Charlie's warm hand over hers.

Abigail just turned her back and flounced to the rail.