Vickie Britton, page 14
A scraping sound rasped outside. The wind suddenly caught the door, slammed it against the splintered frame with shuddering force. Feeling trapped, I hurried to free myself.
Once outside, I took in air grown so much cooler that it burned my lungs. My senses were still tingling, my nerves taut from the unexpected, jarring sound of the slamming door. I was aware it had grown darker as well as cold. The sun had slipped behind the hills. Still haunted by the vague, uneasy feeling I wasn’t alone, I started back down the trail.
With one last glance back at the cabin, I moved to the edge of the rocks. From where I was standing, the corrals and barn below were bathed in golden light, but the canyon on the other side of the trail was dark and sunless. The hoof prints left by cattle searching for the tender grass growing in the shade of the big boulders stopped a few feet away. The way to the canyon was steep and uninviting, covered with blue-black sagebrush and jagged stone. I could just barely make out the twisted, gnarled trees marking the clearing where the terrible altar stone lurked, concealed in darkness.
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My footsteps quickened on the path as I tried to put as much distance between myself and the canyon as possible. A sudden stirring from behind made me spin around, startled. Was that faint sound only the wind whispering through the canyon walls, or was something out here with me? Gooseflesh prickled my arms as the clawing branches of the junipers a few feet above me on the trail parted. A dark figure whirled down the path toward me.
Colleen came out of the darkness, her green eyes glittering, her face livid with rage. The wind caught and tangled her long, wild hair as she turned upon me accusingly. “I was right about you. He sent you up here, didn’t he? Sent you to spy on me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Her emerald eyes blazed into mine. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from here,” she warned. Half-sobbing, she repeated, “Just stay away.”
“Colleen—” But she vanished into the dark mass of juniper. From where I stood, I could now see her moving high above me on the trail. She was going into the cabin. She was waiting for someone.
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Chapter 18
“Guillermo, I was hoping to find you here,” I said as I peered into his office. He’d pushed back the mountain of paperwork on his desk to concentrate upon the steaming bowl in his hands. Guillermo often took his meals out here alone when he was busy. A blackened pot bubbled on the wood-burning stove most of the day, sending the aroma of over-cooked carrots and lamb and potatoes to mingle with the wood smoke.
“Come in, Anna.”
He seemed genuinely glad to see me. Still upset by Colleen’s angry accusations, I stepped inside, grateful for his invitation. He gestured toward the tin folding chair beside the desk. “Sit down. Some stew?”
He produced an extra bowl and a plastic spoon from the desk drawer, then moved toward the stove where he ladled out a generous portion for me.
“Thanks. I missed supper again,” I confessed.
“You’re making that quite a habit, aren’t you?”
As Guillermo settled back at the desk, I was reminded suddenly of the many times when I’d kept Tavas company in this same little annex, visiting with him while he went over the accounts and payroll. It was a tedious job that Guillermo had voluntarily assumed. He resembled Tavas so
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much sitting there, hat tilted back, forgotten cigar smoldering in the nearby ashtray, that for a moment a weary sense of comfort filled me. The atmosphere of the room struck a chord of familiarity deep inside of me, stirring up so many pleasant memories.
“What’s on your mind, Anna?”
“I ran in to Colleen just a little while ago.” Not wishing to reveal too much to Guillermo about our unpleasant encounter, I added carefully, “She was heading toward the canyon. I don’t think she should be out there alone. It’ll be dark soon. And…she was a little drunk.”
“Ivan was in here not more than half an hour ago looking for her. I wouldn’t waste your time worrying. Ivan will find her and bring her home.”
I took another bite of my stew, which was cool now, and rather mushy. “There’s something else I’ve been wanting to talk to you about,” I said. “It’s Esteban. He’s going to do all he can to cause trouble for you and I feel it’s partly my fault.”
He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Because I called his bluff a time or two?”
Though Guillermo smiled, I noticed a tightening at the corners of his lips, a sudden hardness in his eyes. “I can hold my own with arrogant young colts like Esteban.”
“You don’t like him, do you?”
“No,” he replied simply.
“Is there a reason?”
“Just…animal instinct.”
A lingering silence fell as Guillermo finished his stew, then took up the half-burned cigar, puffing thoughtfully.
“Have you found out anything at all that might link him to the Cult of Akerra?”
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Heavy lids came down over his eyes like a veil as he replied evasively, “The men have been pretty closed-mouthed about the whole thing. If Esteban is mixed up in this ugly business, you can be sure he’s going to keep them silent.”
Guillermo knew something. I was sure of it. I had the gut feeling he knew much more than he was willing to trust me with. I felt a grudging admiration for his loyalty toward the men.
“Guillermo, do you think he might be our man? You’ve seen how the others act toward him. They seem to follow his lead. Do you think Esteban might be the ringleader behind this Cult?”
Guillermo stubbed the remainder of his cigar into his dirty stew bowl, then looked up at me. “At one time, I was sure enough I would have taken the rope and hung him myself.”
“Has something happened to make you change your mind?”
“I don’t think Esteban is our man.” With the look of a Judas betraying a close friend, he said, “I think it’s Manuel.”
“What?” A vision of somber Manuel with his short, fringed hair and huge, luminous eyes came into my mind. “But he’s a friend of yours, and one of our most faithful hands—Guillermo, are you sure?”
He looked away. “I don’t know anything for certain, but most of the fingers point to him. That’s all I can say.”
“Shall we do something about it?”
“Not yet. Not until I know for sure.”
Darkness had settled in over the mountains as Guillermo and I sat talking. By the time I left the barn, the moon had come out, big and silvery, lighting my path as I crossed the stables toward the house.
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Just outside the stables, I spotted Colleen. She, too, was moving through the shadows toward the house. Though relieved she’d come down from the canyon trail, I wasn’t in the least bit anxious to have another encounter with her tonight. Running into her again so soon would only reinforce her irrational conviction that Ivan had me following her. I slipped behind the concealing wall of the nearest stable until she was well out of sight, then cut across Alice’s garden to take a short-cut back to the house.
I stepped carefully around the twisted, dark shrubbery of the sandy garden, being careful not to brush up against the stinging cholla plants or the tall, spear-like yucca. I hadn’t gone very far when I heard a slight rustling sound as something broke the branches nearby. I looked out into the dark sagebrush beyond the garden. Nothing. A rabbit, perhaps, or some other night creature, had been running through the underbrush.
The sound came again. Closer. I hurried toward the grove of poplars near the side of the house, aware now that someone or something was following me. A dark shape was moving through the poplars.
“Colleen?”
There was no answer. Nothing.
I took another step toward the house. Suddenly, a low, throaty sound broke the stillness. An evil, inhuman sound that made the blood freeze in my veins. Not quite animal, not quite human, but somewhere in between. The cry of a lunatic, the bleating of an angry goat or ram.
I turned, and for a moment I saw the immense, dark shape standing in the ghastly white moonlight. “My God,” I heard myself whisper. Then it was gone.
But it had been there, all the same. For a brief moment I’d seen the dark figure of some enormous animal clearly
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outlined against the brightness of the full moon, no face, only a hollow of darkness beneath a pair of sharply-pointed, three-pronged horns.
As I groped blindly for the kitchen door, I could hear laughter behind me. Diabolical, insane laughter—the laughter of the Devil himself.
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Chapter 19
Breathless, I stumbled into the kitchen, closing the door behind me. For a moment I stood there in the darkness, trembling, trying to gain control over my emotions. Such wild, irrational fear had taken hold of me that my hands were still shaking as I reached for the nearest light switch.
I opened the door a crack, staring out into the darkness. The wavering poplars, the spiny cactus in Alice’s garden, were indistinct blurs against the bluish sky. Had I only imagined that immense, dark shape? In my panic, had I allowed the bulging shrubbery to assume the form of some huge beast? Had the strangled, knotted tops of Alice’s cactus transformed themselves into spiny horns? Perhaps, but the laughter… How could that evil, diabolical laughter be explained? No, something had been out there. Something had been stalking me.
I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Then Alice stepped into the kitchen in her flowered robe and matching slippers, a mountain of pink curlers caught up like fish-bobs in the silky net of her blue scarf. The face beneath that blue scarf went pale as death as she noticed me by the open door.
“Anna, what’s wrong?”
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“Colleen!” I cried out. “Alice, has she come back to the house?”
“Why, I don’t know. I don’t…think so. What are you talking about?”
“We have to find her.” No sooner had I said the words than a scream, high-pitched and shattering, split the night into a million sharp-edged pieces.
“What was that?” Alice whispered behind me.
A rattling noise came from the door opening into the family room. We crossed the kitchen, and from the threshold, saw Colleen step inside. She looked dazed, shaken. Her hair fell in tangled disarray about her shoulders. Her chest was heaving. The silk blouse beneath the suede jacket was twisted and partially undone. Her lipstick-smudged mouth was sullen with anger, but it was fear that I read in her eyes, wild, mindless fear. A fear telling me that what I’d seen out there hadn’t been my imagination. Colleen had seen it, too.
Alice and I watched her storm up the stairs toward her room as if the demons of hell pursued her. Soon, we could hear the slamming of the door, the sharp click of a latch. She’d locked herself in.
Alice turned to me, open-mouthed, but before she had a chance to speak, Ivan stepped inside the house. The whites of his eyes seemed very bright against the obsidian of his pupils. The faint glow from the kitchen threw ghostly shadows over his face, accentuating the slightly flared nostrils, the finely-chiseled lips drawn back in anger. Aghast, we watched as he took the stairs two at a time.
I could hear a sound now, the rattling of a doorknob. The sound became louder, as if he intended to shake the door loose from its hinges. From behind the closed door
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came the slam of dresser drawers opening and closing, a tirade of curses.
“Leena, open this door.” His voice was deathly. “I mean it.” More curses followed. Then a sharp, cracking sound, the splintering of wood.
“Good Jesus, what’s happening?” Alice whispered. She turned to me, a terrified look on her face.
He’d broken through the door. I felt a stab of sickness deep inside. He was so angry. I’d never seen him like this before. I brushed past Alice, who was frozen into position, and hurried toward the stairway. I must get up there. I must stop him from harming her…
I slowed at the bottom of the stairway, listening. I could hear her now, angry, cajoling.
“What a cheap trick, Ivan. Tracking me all over the place in that ridiculous get-up. Horns, even.”
She laughed, the laughter wild and somehow terrifying. “You know what I think? I think you’re crazy. I’m getting out of here while I still can. I’m getting out of here while I’m still able…” The voice became clearer as she came into view with her suitcase, to stand at the top of the stairs.
Ivan, too, appeared at the top of the stairway. “Don’t be absurd,” came his gentle, carefully-controlled voice, the voice he seemed to use so often with her. “Where can you go this time of night?”
She stood for a moment, apparently uncertain, suitcase still in hand. She was still visibly shaken. Her hair, which she’d done up hastily, was already beginning to escape from its shiny pins. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Anywhere. Just away from this cursed place, but don’t worry, Ivan. You haven’t heard the last of me. You…you’ll be hearing from Martin. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”
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Brushing past him, she hurried down the stairs. Her face was pale and determined as she slipped by me. The door slammed heavily, a final retort. Then she was gone. Moments later, I could hear the roaring of an engine as her car shrieked out of the driveway, throwing a shower of pebbles against the house.
“Ivan…” Desperately, I caught at his arm as he came past. “Listen to me. There was something out there.”
“I know.” For a brief moment, his eyes met mine, dark, searching. “I can’t let her wander around alone. She’s in no condition to drive.”
Then he, too, disappeared into the night.
I stood looking out after him until the sound of footsteps made me glance up once again toward the stairs. Brad, wearing pajamas and a terry cloth bathrobe, his hair damp and tousled from the shower, looked down at us.
“What’s all the commotion about?” he demanded, looking puzzled.
“It’s Colleen,” Alice explained. “She’s run off again.” Her words were interrupted by the sound of another vehicle pulling out of the driveway.
“Ivan?”
Alice nodded. “Gone chasing after her, of course.”
Brad was coming down toward us. “Maybe I should help him find her.”
“No need,” Alice advised. “He’ll find her soon enough. She went to DeGarza’s, no doubt.”
Alice shook her head, making the pink curlers bob under their net of blue. “So much trouble over the girl. She’ll come back soon enough. Always does.” She sighed deeply. “Yes, it’s a bad penny that always returns.”
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Chapter 20
Alice poked at the Sunday roast beef on her plate, frowning. Turning to me, she asked, “Doesn’t this taste just a bit ‘off’ to you? I wondered if it didn’t have freezer burn when I took it out this morning.”
Whatever appetite I’d been able to muster left me, though I knew there was nothing wrong with the beef. Whenever Alice was worried or apprehensive about something, she would suddenly become suspicious of all food, accusing it unjustly of being either spoiled or tainted. I could remember many cans of perfectly innocent tuna and countless other platters of meat that had been tossed to the dogs through the years because of Alice’s peculiarity.
“Maybe I should fix something else.” There was no reply. The sound of forks and spoons clicking mechanically upon the stoneware accentuated another lull in conversation. Since last night, we’d all been in a constant state of apprehension.
Guillermo, who always took his Sunday afternoon meals with us, spoke up reassuringly. “Tastes fine to me, Alice.”
“Nothing wrong with this roast,” Brad agreed, but I noticed he didn’t ask for a second helping. He seemed to have lost some of the enormous appetite that Alice and I
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were always kidding him about as, with a forced smile, he cleared off the last of his gravy. Ivan’s plate, I noticed, was nearly untouched, the meat and potatoes growing cold.
“I tell you, this beef isn’t good at all.” No one protested when Alice packed it back into the kitchen.
Brad’s voice broke the silence. “She’s been gone so long. I’m getting worried.”
“It isn’t the first time she’s taken off.” Alice spoke from the refrigerator. “She’ll be back soon enough.”
“But last time was different,” Brad protested.
“Oh? And what was different about it? Had everyone half sick with worry, every police car in the county out looking for her, and then she comes breezing in like nothing ever happened.”
I stole a glance at Ivan. He looked so tired. He’d searched for Colleen all night and half of the morning. His clothes were rumpled, his hair still tousled from the wind. A four o’clock shadow darkened the rough line of his jaw. The silent, disturbed look in his eyes told me he didn’t share Alice’s confidence that Colleen would come home.
“I’m sure Alice is right,” Guillermo said quietly. “No doubt she’ll be turning up in that driveway any minute now.”
A sudden sound from outside made sentences die in midair. Eyes turned hopefully toward the window. A burst of darkness rose and fell as another dust devil kicked up its heels and swirled about the yard, then disappeared as quickly as it had come.
“I don’t like the looks of that,” Ivan said. “There’s a storm blowing in. Soon as DeGarza gets here, we’ll start up again. We’ll each take one of the men and a different vehicle. We’ll split into different directions. I want to go over every one of those back roads.”
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“What about the police?” Brad asked.
“We don’t want to involve them again unless it’s absolutely necessary. We know the terrain better. We can search faster without them slowing us down.”
“A lot of trouble for nothing,” I heard Alice snort under her breath. “She’ll be back. This is just what she likes—to worry us sick.”
But Alice, too, was beginning to look anxious. She craned her neck to look out at the sound of a car pulling into the drive. It was only Martin DeGarza’s fat green Buick, moving slowly over the rutted road.
