Flash Flood (23 page)

Elaine didn't understand the reference but knew he hadn't missed her attraction to Dan. Billy Roland insisted on a mini-tour of the barns before eating. He did nothing to hide his admiration of Dan and his thrill at having Shortcake Dream back. He told and retold how Dan had been smart enough to recognize good breeding and had saved the heifer's life.

Billy Roland walked with his arm around her pointing out animals or new additions to his barns. He seemed truly pleased that she was there. She tried to catch Dan's eye. She'd like to tell him that Eric was in the car. Maybe it wouldn't make any difference. But she would be more comfortable if Dan knew why she was there.

They looked at the horses first. Elaine was treated to the stories about Baby Belle and how she was now a one-man filly, thanks to Dan. There seemed to be some barely concealed innuendo linking Elaine with Dan, comparing her to the filly, hinting that Dan might be able to work that same kind of magic on her, too. Billy Roland's attempt at humor was a little embarrassing under the circumstances, but she laughed when she saw Dan roll his eyes skyward and shake his head.

Elaine enjoyed the tour. Somewhere between admiring the clinic and stepping into the stall to pet Shortcake Dream, she realized how happy she was. Dan put his arm around her waist and they watched as Billy Roland checked the heifer and coaxed her into eating a little mash. Dan thought she already looked better and said so. Billy Roland agreed but thought there was a long road ahead of them before she could be bred, let alone shown.

Dan whispered that he'd missed her. She whispered back that Eric was in the car and felt his arm slip from her waist and his body pull away. The gesture almost made her cry out. It was wrenching how much she wanted this man and how screwed up everything was. Billy Roland finally tired of coddling Shortcake Dream and the three of them walked back to the house. She thought Dan had to be at least ten feet from her. But maybe that was wise. She knew Eric was watching.

Supper was private. Just the three of them sharing a good Bordeaux with the steaks. Conversation bounced from Matthew to Elaine's sabbatical and back to the Double Horseshoe. Dan was quiet. With his back to the window, he never took his eyes off of her. She liked that. She was comfortable and was almost lulled into forgetting why she was there and who was standing outside. Almost, but not quite. Eric was taking all this in; she could feel it.

And, she came so close to just saying, I have to go now, no dessert, coffee, after dinner drink; but she didn't. She heard herself agreeing to coffee in the study. Sweaty palms and all, she pushed back from the table and followed the two men down the hall.

“Would you feel comfortable talking about Eric?” She waited until each of them had a drink and Billy Roland had settled on a striped settee to her right.

“Of course, darlin', is something troubling you?” Billy Roland looked up expectantly.

She ignored Dan, who sat across the room facing the windows, but hoped that he was aware of what she was doing. Not that he could help, he couldn't without giving Eric away unless he was willing to talk about seeing the sheriff the night of the flood. Maybe, there'd be an opening….

“I've had seven years to think about this and now that I'm here, my nerve isn't.” She smiled nervously in Billy Roland's direction and didn't look at Dan. She took a deep breath. “You know, he always thought he was going to prison for you. Felt that he owed you one. Since he got caught with your cocaine, he would help you out, take the rap for you.”

“That's hogwash. What on God's green earth gave him an idea like that?” Billy Roland sloshed half his drink onto a Navajo Yei rug as he pushed himself upright.

“Maybe because the lawyer who met with him said he represented you.”

“I didn't send a lawyer. I offered, but Eric wanted to represent himself.”

“This wasn't someone to represent him. This was someone who had papers that assured Eric of two million invested for a plea of guilty.”

“Do you have a copy of these so-called papers?”

“No. Like the two million, they don't seem to exist.”

Billy Roland had gotten up to fix another drink. Elaine waited. He was angry; she could tell that by his posture. Had this been such a good idea? Dan had walked along the row of windows opening onto the veranda and pulled the blinds—shut one of the windows and made certain that no one could see in. Eric would be beside himself, but she had to smile.

“Let me just make sure I understand you. Eric told you that a lawyer saying that I'd sent him, offered him two million to plead guilty, sort of indicated that the cocaine was mine?”

Elaine nodded.

“I may have the name of that lawyer, Jonathan James Reynolds,” Dan said.

“Never heard of him.”

“But you do keep a Juan Jose Rodriguez on retainer.”

“You saying J.J. used an alias?”

“Not exactly. I think J.J. impersonated Mr. Reynolds.”

“Do you have proof?”

“I may have by the end of the week.”

“How long has J.J. worked for you?” Elaine asked.

“'Bout seven or eight years now. Would have started work for me just about the time that Eric got sent up to Milford.”

“Did someone recommend him?” Dan asked.

“Two folks had been using him, Judge Cyrus, and your brother-in-law, Phillip Ainsworth. Fact is, J.J. is a nephew or some relative to that housekeeper of your sister's, Dona Mari. But then, so is my ranch foreman, Jorge. Former foreman, right, Dan?”

Dan nodded but looked pensive. Elaine watched as he seemed to be contemplating something. Was there something about linking this Jorge and J.J. with Dona Mari? What did that mean? All had access to the major players, all were in interesting positions to—

“What kind of evidence you planning to come up with?” Billy Roland asked.

“I may have a copy of the signature that was on papers left with Eric seven years ago. It may not prove anything, just places J.J. at the scene, and leads to more questions.”

“I suppose the sixty-four-thousand-dollar one is why. Why would anyone bribe Eric to take a fall…I suppose you both have considered the possibility that Eric is guilty? The cocaine really was his….” Billy Roland looked thoughtful.

“But then there's the bank book,” Dan said.

“I tend to believe Eric. I mean, I believed him when he told me all this seven years ago,” Elaine said.

The muffled thud, like a sack of feed being thrown on the porch, startled the three of them into silence. They listened, but there was nothing else, no scuffling, crashing into anything, just the one sound of mass connecting with the porch. Elaine pulled back the heavy drapes and looked through the blinds. It was too dark to see much of anything. But the porch swing was moving sideways like someone had bumped it in his haste to get off the veranda.

“Anything?” Dan was beside her.

“Nothing.”

“Could be Hank's black Lab. That hound's always thumping around up here on the porch at all hours,” Billy Roland said.

“I'm going to look around.” Dan started toward the door.

“Me, too.” What was she thinking? If Eric was tempted to do something threatening, she'd be there to stop him? Something like that.

“Hell's bells. You can't go off and leave your host.” Billy Roland grabbed his drink and followed. When the three of them reached the porch, Elaine was struck by the serenity of the evening. All seemed perfectly calm, a night bird's call, clouds that draped the almost full moon in a feathery haze, a calf that bawled in the distance. Silence. Then a few answering woofs from what was probably the Lab down at the barns. Idyllic. As they watched, the moon slipped out of the clouds to illuminate the porch, the drive, and surrounding fields.

“I'm going to take a look around.” Dan walked down the steps.

Elaine and Billy Roland followed the curve of the veranda to the area outside the study. The swing was now still. There was no hint that anything had been disturbed. Elaine stooped to look under the windows. If someone had been standing there not long ago, it was impossible to tell now. No dust to give up footprints. There was no evidence of a struggle.

She thought of checking the car but didn't know how she'd explain what she was looking for. So, she waited with Billy Roland, sat in the swing and let her feet skim along the floor as she pushed, then released and enjoyed the stirring of the still air.

“False alarm. Can't find anything out of place.” Dan joined them, then caught her eye and shrugged his shoulders before turning to sit beside Billy Roland on the veranda steps. A message that she interpreted to mean he hadn't found Eric. Odd. She wondered if he had looked under the porch. Could Eric have tripped and fallen against the house? Then quietly crawled underneath? No, the noise they heard was more like someone being knocked to the ground.

They sat enjoying the night. No one seemed interested in pursuing the subject of Eric again. Elaine didn't say anything. Curiosity as to where he was vaguely bothered her. If he wasn't in the car when she left, what then? Billy Roland stood and stretched and allowed as how an old man still needed beauty rest.

Elaine hugged him. She was sincere when she said it had been a great evening. She walked with him back into the house, got her purse and jacket and returned to the porch.

“I'll walk you to your car.” Dan waited in the shadows. “I'd like to make sure Eric is all right,” he said as he took her arm.

“You think he's in the car?”

“Only place I didn't check.”

The Benz was unlocked, with the blanket draped over the front seat. But the car was empty.

“Now what do I do?” Elaine couldn't keep the frustration out of her voice. “You don't think he'll try to approach Billy Roland on his own?”

“Unlikely. But maybe I'd better get back. Are you going to be all right?”

She nodded and slipped behind the wheel.

“Call me when you get home. I'll wait up.”

“Thanks.”

“Elaine. I want all this to be over. I….”

She put a finger to her lips then mouthed “Me, too” before turning the key in the ignition.

***

“You know who this is?” Roger hissed the question between huffing under the dead weight of the man they were carrying between them and trying to keep from stumbling as he pushed the pace. They needed to reach the protective cover of the poplar before anyone in the house came looking. He hadn't anticipated the man they found looking in the window to go down so hard. Roger hadn't even planned on hitting him until he saw the gun tucked in the back of his belt. Training had taught him to ask questions later. But when he had shone the flashlight in the face of the man on the porch, he knew. He knew and could hardly keep his excitement under control. What did this mean? He couldn't even speculate, but it was big. He knew that. He wanted to say I told you so to Tom, but he'd just gestured for him to take one side of the fallen man and help Roger drag him to cover.

After sprinting down the drive, they paused in the poplar to watch and catch their breaths. Only Dan left the porch to circle the house. They hadn't left a trail, not in the gravel of the drive. Roger had risked the sound of crunching rock in order to cover their immediate tracks. They waited, staying hidden in the windbreak about seventy-five feet from the house.

“Damn it. Go back inside.” Roger watched the group settle on the porch. He was plainly stressed and anxious to get his prize back to the van parked about a half mile down the road and didn't want Elaine and party to wait around too long. He didn't want to have to hit the guy slumped between them again.

“Looks like they're there for the night.”

“No, wait. Billy Roland's getting up. Okay, party's over. That's right.” Roger's whispered encouragement seemed to work. As they watched, Elaine and Dan walked out to the car. Then as Elaine nosed the Benz down the drive, Dan went back to the house.

“So far, so good. But we still need to be quiet.” Roger was breathing easier. He motioned for Tom to help him hoist the man into a sitting position before pulling him up between them. He couldn't wait to question this man.

“So, who is this?”

“C'mon. You don't know? This, Tom, is a dead man come back to give us some answers.”

“No shit? Eric Linden?”

“None other, alive and well.”

It was difficult to hide his smugness, so Roger didn't try. He'd felt this case was his. His to solve. He was banging on the door to that promotion, just lacked the exposure that would get the attention of his superiors. But this, this could do it. Hadn't they wanted to question Linden about the two million? Squeeze a little and see where it got them? Everybody would be wetting themselves; and he'd take the credit.

Roger sent Tom into the office at the Silver Spur to rent a room for the night. The no vacancy sign flashed on as Tom came back out.

“That was lucky. Got some convoy of truckers going through. Number Twelve's the last one.” Tom climbed back into the cab of the van then squeezed between the seats and squatted by Eric's body. “Think we're going to attract attention trying to get him out?”

“Not if we're drunk.”

“Good idea.”

They didn't try to be quiet. A trucker parked along the perimeter of the motel swung down from his cab just as they pulled Eric upright but turned back to check his tires and didn't watch as they walked Eric between them to the door.

They dumped Eric on the bed and Tom went out for soft drinks and to scout the surroundings. Roger remembered that there was a vending machine next to an ice maker at the end of the first row of rooms. Eric was going to need an ice pack and quick to stop the swelling knot on the back of his head. But to anyone watching they looked liked three guys who pulled off the road to continue a little partying.

The ice pack seemed to have revived Eric by the time Tom had set up the recording equipment from the van. Eric was functioning, if only painfully so, but could handle a few questions, Roger decided.