Pipeline (12 page)

"Can
we meet before you leave?"

"Uh,
sure. When do you get off work?"

"I
don't want to delay your trip home. I'm off for lunch right now and have a
conference period after that, about an hour and a half."

"Well,
if you give me directions to your school, I'll stop and pick up something for
lunch and meet you there."

Ventana
Middle School was close to the apartment building where she and Kyle lived, so
I wasn't totally lost and arrived within half an hour. Following her
directions, I entered the school through a side door on the east side of the
building and saw Sarita standing in the doorway of a classroom waiting for me.
She closed the door behind her as I set the bag of food on a worktable near the
rear of the room and pulled out a couple of wrapped burgers. She brought an
extra chair to the table and patted me on the shoulder as she sat down.

"It's
good to see you again, Ms. Carlisle. I wasn't sure if my visit had been
successful or not."

"It
probably wouldn't have been if it weren't for my housekeeper."

"Ms.
Rubio?"

"Yeah,
she twisted the knife in my back until I agreed to at least do some background
work."

"She
seems to be a very interesting lady."

"That's
a diplomatic description," I said as I took a bite.

Sarita
laughed lightly. "I just mean that she seems like the kind of woman who
would be willing to do anything for a friend."

"She
helped me get enough information to know Kyle's got a potentially huge story.
For his safety, as well as yours, he might need some help, Sarita." I
reached into my pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. "These are the
names of a couple of people who know how to get things done and aren't
interested in taking any credit for the story. Whoever's behind this scheme
isn't going to let one reporter get in their way, but if three or four have to
be eliminated they might decide it isn't worth the risk and back off."

"What
did you find out?"

"Enough
to know there's a lot of money involved. People have been killed for a lot
less."

"I
wish he would let you help him."

"The
chances of that are slim and none, Sarita."

"You
know, Ms. Carlisle, Kyle is like you in many ways. Smart, but very
stubborn."

"Well,
right now he better be working on plain old scared. Whoever is involved won't
let one reporter ruin a good thing. If he gets in their way, they'll kill
him."

By
late afternoon, I was on the road back toward Kerrville. Sarita had been right
about Kyle and me. We were both stubborn, with a nearly self-destructive need
to work things out alone. I had spent the last fifteen years going it alone,
and only recently realized it hadn't been a particularly happy journey, even if
I had been satisfied with the work. Or at least I thought I had been. It was
hard not to think about what my life would have been like if I had been
less...less what? I could spend the rest of my life wondering about that and
never arrive at an answer. Too bad you can't see what's on the road ahead, so
you'd know when to pull over for a U-turn and when to accelerate toward it.

The
distance between San Antonio and Kerrville wasn't far enough for much
self-psychoanalysis, thank God. I was too tired to think about what might have
been or should have been and didn't want anything except a long, hot shower
before falling into my own bed.

Only
the final remnants of sunlight remained on the horizon by the time I turned
into the drive leading to my house. Low mesquite blocked my view until the
second curve on the gravel and dirt road. As the number of trees decreased, I
caught sight of my house for the first time and saw that there was a light on
inside. It was Friday and no one should have been there. Instinctively, I took
my foot off the accelerator and let the car continue rolling forward, but there
was enough gravel on the road to make it nearly impossible to approach the
house without being heard. Rounding the last curve and breaking into the open
clearing that became the front yard, I saw Lena's car parked in front of the
house. I looked around the remainder of the property and wished the sun would
hang in the sky a few moments longer. I didn't see any other vehicles anywhere
and thought maybe Lena had something important to tell me and decided to wait
around until I got home. Shrugging off my unease as paranoia, I got out of the
car and grabbed my bag from the backseat. If Lena was waiting for me, I could
expect a tongue-lashing for keeping her waiting so long.

From
the foot of the porch steps I could see that the front door was ajar. The light
I had seen wasn't coming from the front room but appeared to be from the window
in my office. I took the steps two at a time and pushed the door farther open,
looking into the darkened living room. Even in the growing darkness, I knew
someone had been there and possibly still was. I was afraid to call out Lena's
name and wished I had a weapon. Setting my bag down inside the front door, I
caught the screen to keep it from slamming shut. Every piece of furniture had
been thrown around the living room. Broken pieces of glass from the end table
reading lamps crunched under my feet. Otherwise,
the
silence was
overwhelming.

"Lena?"

There
was no answer, and I went to the kitchen doorway and glanced in. Dishes and
pots were strewn on the floor. Several beer bottles were sitting on the kitchen
table and appeared to be the only unbroken items in the room. Anger, mixed with
fear, was beginning to work its way into my mind, but by then I was convinced
that whoever had been in the house was no longer there, or I would have already
been attacked.

Raising
my voice a notch, I called out again, "Lena!"

Subconsciously,
I knew the rest of the house had also been trashed, but where the hell was
Lena? The only light came from the partially opened door of my office, and I
crossed the living room toward it. Standing to one side of the door, I took a
deep breath and pushed the door open with one hand and scanned the office from
one side to the other before entering. If possible, the office was in worse shape
than the living room and kitchen. Other than the mess, there was nothing else
in the room.

As
quickly as I could, I searched the rest of the rooms. There was still no sign
of Lena, and I began to hope that she hadn't been able to start her old car and
had gotten a ride home from a friend. Going back into the living room, I
switched on the overhead light and looked for the phone. My hand was shaking
from an adrenaline overdose caused by a combination of fear and anger as I
dialed.

"Sheriff's
department," a man's voice answered.

"This
is Joanna Carlisle, out on Route Fifty-four. My house has been broken
into."

"Do
you know how long ago, ma'am?"

"No.
I've been out of town for a few days and just got back. But my housekeeper's
car is here."

"Can
your housekeeper identify the intruder?"

"I
haven't spoken to her yet. She might not have been here. Look, just send a car
out here."

"Someone
should be there in ten or fifteen minutes."

I
hung up and wondered if they had left any beer in the refrigerator. Flipping on
the kitchen light, I went toward the refrigerator, but before I could open it,
my hand froze on the handle. Lena's fabric bag was lying on the floor not far
from the kitchen table. She was still here someplace, but I had already looked
everywhere in the house.

Going
onto the porch, I went down the steps toward her car. The doors were locked,
but when I looked through the side windows, I didn't see anyone inside. I stood
for a few minutes with my hands on my hips and looked around. Finally, taking a
high-beam light from the rear storage area of the Blazer I walked around the
outside of the house, shining the flashlight into the trees and bushes that
enclosed the yard. By the time I returned to the front of the house, I wondered
whether whoever had been here had taken Lena with them.

Sitting
down on the porch steps to wait for the sheriff's deputies to arrive, I leaned
back and looked up. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and stars were beginning
to appear, as the sky grew darker. When I was a kid, I had loved to lie in the
grass and look straight up at the stars. After a few minutes it had seemed that
I was floating in them, giving me a touch of vertigo, but at the same time, a
detachment from reality and the magical feeling of floating among the stars.
The thought brought a smile to my face, and I lowered my eyes back to Earth and
scanned the front yard. From the corner of my eye the barn and corral loomed in
the darkness. My stomach tightened into a knot, and faster than I thought I
could, I sprinted toward the barn. The door leading to the stall area was open,
and I flipped on the flashlight as I approached the door. It was quiet, but it
shouldn't have been. Jack would have heard me coming, but there was no greeting
from him. Standing in the doorway, I shined the beam down the passageway in
front of the stalls. Halfway down the walkway, my worst fear was confirmed.

Lena's
body was strapped to an open stall gate; her arms spread crucifixion style, and
her feet tied to the bottom rail of the gate. The ropes that held her sagging
weight had burned and cut the skin on her upper arms and her head dangled under
a disheveled mass of black hair.

"Lena!"

She
didn't answer me as I lifted her head. I had to close my eyes to avoid looking
at her. I grabbed a pair of tin snips to cut the rope around her feet. Then,
trying to hold her body upright against mine, I began cutting the ropes holding
her arms. When I finally managed to cut through the last rope, the dead weight
of her body nearly caused me to drop her. She was a big woman, over two hundred
pounds, but now that weight had been increased as it became inert. As gently as
I could, I laid her down and pushed her hair out of her face. Blood had run
from her mouth and nose and was partially dried, and the rest of her face swollen
into a grotesque shape. I tried to feel for a pulse but couldn't find one.

"Lena!"

In
desperation, I ripped her shirt open and pressed my ear tightly against her
chest. It might have been my imagination, but I thought I felt a heartbeat. I
picked up the flashlight and looked around until I found a rag. I went quickly
to the water hose and wet the rag to clean her face. As I rushed back to Lena's
side, the light in my hand flashed momentarily into Jack's stall, and I
stopped. A huge lifeless mass lie on the floor. I saw that his throat had been
slashed, and his once beautiful body had already begun to bloat. No matter how
much I wanted to help him, I knew there wasn't anything I could do, and I
returned to Lena's side.

Wiping
blood from her face as gently as I could, I spoke to her in whispers. An
eternity later she produced a low moan, and I continued talking to her, hoping
she could hear me. In the midst of my talking, I heard a car in my drive and
looked up in time to see a sheriff's unit coming to a stop in front of the
house, red and blue lights flashing.

Waving
the flashlight toward them, I yelled, "Down here! Call an ambulance!"

An
instant later the unit was driving over the grass toward the barn. I was glad
not to be alone and helpless anymore. As I watched the car come toward us, a
hand grabbed my shirt and nearly gave me a heart attack. It was Lena's hand, as
strong and powerful as ever, pulling me toward her until her mouth nearly
touched my ear.

"Who
did this Lena?" I asked.

"Four
spies," she managed through swollen lips.

Pulling
my head up, I looked at her and wiped her forehead.

"Did
you know them?"

She
shook her head slightly, and something that might have been a smile crossed her
swollen mouth. "This gonna cost you plenty extra," she rasped.

Chapter
Fourteen

LENA
DIED IN the ambulance, clinging to my hand, and it took me hours to get away
from the sheriff's deputies. The assholes said it was probably someone hopped
up on drugs and looking for money. Drugged-out psychos, my ass. I knew why Lena
had been killed even though I didn't have a shred of evidence to prove it. I
felt responsible for her death. I should have known what could happen. Someone
was going to pay for what they had done, and I didn't care if I had to kill the
s.o.b. myself.

By
the time a sheriff's car took me back to the ranch, I couldn't stand the
thought of being there. The inside of the house was a disaster, and the
sheriff's investigators would only make it worse. I couldn't shake visions of
the struggle that must have taken place there from my mind. Although I had
taken hundreds of pictures dealing with death and dying, violent death had
never struck so close to me before. This time I wouldn't be able to turn and
walk away as I always had. For now I needed to forget what I had seen that
night and had to get the hell away from there. Knowing I wouldn't be able to
get Lena's face out of my mind without help, I pulled into an all-night
convenience store on the edge of town.

How
I got there without killing myself or getting pulled over I don't know, but a
little after two in the morning I lurched to a stop in front of Cate's house in
Austin. It was dark and for a while I sat in my car, finishing the last of the
twelve-pack I bought in Kerrville. Too much beer too fast on an empty stomach
had given me a thundering headache, but even that was better than thinking
about Lena's face and imagining the pain she had endured because of me.