Tattered Legacy (A Nora Abbott Mystery) (14 page)

Abigail shifted from foot to foot. “Yes. No. Oh, how do I know? Red rocks, sand, arches. It’s all the same. Here or in Canyonlands or anywhere else.”

Nora stared at the rock again. “Is this what Lisa wanted me to see?” she wondered out loud.

“What?” Abigail sounded irritated.

Nora pointed. “That symbol with the lines. It keeps popping up.”

Abigail squinted at the panel. “Dan liked that. After he saw it here, he used to doodle it.”

“Do you know what it means?”

Abigail waved her hand. “Who knows? Whatever you want, I suppose.”

“My father never said?”

“I never asked. Let’s just go.”

Nora lowered her gaze to meet her mother’s. “Why are you so upset?”

“I’m not upset. Rachel’s right. You need to leave things alone. There are enough wilderness places around here to satisfy everyone. Come on. I’m hungry and want to get out of this heat.”

Something about the rock art crawled under Abigail’s skin. Nora needed to coax it out. They squeezed through the tight passage behind the fins and intersected a worn path.

Abigail tore down the trail. She seemed to have developed a whole new level of fitness, winding in and out of the rock towers and pushing Abbey to keep ahead of her. Nora thought about the symbols on the rock panel. It had something to do with her father. She was sure of it. That’s the only connection Abigail would have with Native American history. Her father, the rock art, and Lisa’s murder. They couldn’t all be coincidence, she thought.

Abigail practically ran the last quarter mile to the Jeep. She stood by the passenger door, her arms crossed and her face tight with tension. “Where should we eat?”

Nora unlocked the door. She pulled Abbey’s collapsible dish out of the back seat and filled it with the last of her water. He lapped it up. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

When Abbey finished his water and jumped in back, they loaded up and headed across the mesa and the switchbacks that led to the park exit.

“How many days did you and Dan spend in Arches?” Nora probed as carefully as she could.

“I don’t know, three or four days,” her mother responded curtly.

“Did you like it here?” Nora rolled down her window. She inhaled the new growth and sunshine on the breeze. It smelled green and blue and yellow, alive with the unusually wet season.

Abigail’s shoulders hiked up with tension. “I was in love. It wouldn’t have mattered if we had toured the moon.”

“What about Dan? There must have been a reason he brought you here.” She steered around the gentle slopes, tapping the brakes in order to keep an easy speed.

“I guess. I don’t know. He said it is an important place and he seemed interested in the rock art.” Abigail slapped her palms on her leg. “Can we please drop it? Bringing me here makes me sad. He was a good man and he never got a chance to grow old. Like Lisa. We need to let them rest in peace.”

A meadowlark’s song swirled into the window and around Nora’s head. She rounded a curve and headed down the mountainside. The park maintained the road and it was nothing like the narrow, twisting ribbon on the side of Mount Evans outside of Denver. Thinking about that piece of highway leading up to a fourteen thousand-foot peak made Nora break into a sweat.

She gripped the wheel. She was driving too fast. She’d miss a curve. This road descending toward the visitors’ center didn’t have the hairpin turns of the Mount Evans route, but there were switchbacks and Nora was going too fast to navigate around them.

“Nora, why are you pumping the brakes?” Abigail’s voice cut into Nora’s concentration.

“What? Oh. I’m … ”
Get a grip, Nora.

“You’re driving like a bat out of Hell.” Abigail raised her voice. It brought back memories of the one time she’d taken Nora out to teach her to drive. No surprise—Nora had a heavy foot and didn’t stop at the stop sign long enough and nearly got them killed in traffic. Berle had taken over driver training after that.

“I’m fine. This is a good road.” Nora agreed that she should slow down, too, but reacted automatically to Abigail’s complaint.

“You’re scaring me!”

Nora tapped the brakes, but instead, the Jeep gained a little more speed. Nora stepped harder on the brakes, but didn’t feel any resistance. The hillside out her window blurred. The speedometer needle inched further to the right.

Nora slammed on the brakes.

Nothing.

“What’s going on?” Abigail clutched the dash in a panic.

Nora pumped her foot, but she met no pressure from the pedal. “The brakes aren’t working!” Sweat lined her face, yet she felt cold all over.

The wind roared. The wheels sounded like a train in Nora’s head. Her vision narrowed, seeing only the strip of pavement in front of her.

She tried to remember the road when they’d driven up earlier. How many turns? How sharp? She hadn’t paid attention and now couldn’t conjure it up.

A yellow diamond sign warned of a curve ahead. Nora automatically hit the brakes again and the action unleashed jolts of panic. She held her breath and gripped the wheel, terrified by the upcoming bend. A boulder the size of the USS
Arizona
sat on the outside of the road. If they didn’t make the turn, they’d smash into the side, creating their own gruesome rock art of blood and bone.

They’d never stay upright if Nora stuck to her own lane. The narrow wheelbase of the Jeep would cause it to flip at this speed. If she crossed the center line and someone came uphill on the curve, Nora would smash into them.

She strained to see past where the road swerved. Was another vehicle coming? What should she do? The pavement started to turn. She concentrated on the double yellow line in the middle of the road. Her shoulders felt like steel with her hands welded to the steering wheel. As the curve tightened, she edged to the outside, venturing into the opposite lane.

The wind, the squeal of the tires, and Abigail’s screams all combined in a mind hurricane, blocking out everything but automatic action. They rounded the corner with the grill of an ocean liner of an SUV looming a few feet ahead of them.

A screaming horn penetrated Nora’s brain. Her hands jerked the wheel to the right before she could form a thought. They swerved out of the SUV’s path, the protesting horn following their flight. The Jeep’s right tires dropped off the pavement. Abigail screamed again.

The raw cliff face loomed inches from the passenger window. The outside mirror exploded as it tore away from the door. Nora yanked the wheel to the left. The Jeep swung back onto the road. But she’d overcorrected and now they headed for the steep shoulder drop off. Nora swung the wheel back. The Jeep lurched to the right, the tires stuttering. In that instant, she knew they were going to flip.

She twisted the wheel one way, then the next, without any conscious thought. Muscle memory or luck or possibly even her kachina guided her, though he didn’t show himself. In seconds or minutes or perhaps years, the Jeep settled into a straight line race down the road.

With no curves in her immediate sight, Nora took a second to
gather her bearings. The high rev engine shrieked. The valley
stretched before them with one long slope to the visitor’s center and a gradual flattening of the road as it swept toward the highway. They still careened down the hill, going way too fast for safety. If they passed the fee kiosk at this speed, they could hit a pedestrian or crash into another vehicle.

Nora considered ramming the Jeep into first or second gear, but if she disengaged the clutch now she might not be able to force it into another gear and they’d be free-wheeling.

A line of cars inched through the fee station on the left. A Cruise America RV with a cheery vacationing family painted on the rear loomed in front of them, making its way through the exit.

“We’re going to hit them!” Abigail shreiked. She braced her arms on the dash.

The Jeep lost some momentum as the road leveled, but they still barreled out of control. The back end of the RV grew in the windshield.

Nora laid on the horn.

The brake lights of the RV lit up. No! She needed them to speed up, not stop! Nora held her breath and gripped the wheel. They would collide with the RV at the kiosk. The p
avement widened to accommodate the traffic at the fee station.

Please stay inside the RV
, she prayed. If someone stepped out from the either the RV or the kiosk, she’d plow into them.

Amid Abigail’s screams and the shrieking engine, Nora yanked the wheel. They shot to the right side of the RV, wheels balancing on the edge of the pavement.

Whack.
They guillotined the driver’s side mirror.

Nora sucked in air. They’d made it! Only a long, flat road ahead, with plenty of time for the Jeep the slow to a stop.

Then she saw it.

A group of motorcycles pulled out in front of her, leaving the visitors’ center. Between the group of six or eight, they covered both lanes. They didn’t know Nora couldn’t slow down. She laid on her horn, but they didn’t have enough time to react. She jerked the wheel to the right and the Jeep flew off the road into the sand.

It only took fifty feet or so for the Jeep to come to a complete halt. They banged across shrubs and rocks, their seat belts biting into them as they crossed the brain-rattling, rough terrain. Abbey slammed into the back of Nora’s seat and yelped.

They finally stopped and Nora cut the engine.

“My god! We could have been killed!” Abigail panted and clutched her chest. Nora tried to draw in a breath, but struggled. She couldn’t let go of the steering wheel.

“I told you two years ago to get a new car. But no, you didn’t listen. You aren’t happy unless you’ve got the oldest car on the road.”

Oxygen finally seeped into Nora’s lungs. She hoped her heart didn’t split her chest.

“You’re lucky this didn’t happen in the mountains. I’d have had to bear the loss of my only daughter.”

Nora wanted to close her eyes, but they were stuck wide open in panic mode.

“It is irresponsible of you to have held on to this antique this long. At least now you’ll have to get a new car.”

Nora popped her seat belt loose, flung her door open, and jumped out. Abbey hopped out after her, no worse for the terror.

Feet on solid ground, Nora leaned her hands against the hot hood and dropped her head. The shaking commenced and when her knees buckled, she sank to a squat.

Twenty-Two

Abigail’s ranting sounded like
The Chipmunks on speed. When the shaking subsided and her bones felt solid, Nora stood up. She found her phone in her backpack and called Marlene.

Marlene’s voice boomed through the phone. Maybe her annoyance wasn’t directed at Nora, but she sounded like she wanted to punch something. “You’re at the visitors’ center? The brakes? Are you okay?”

“Just hurry. Abigail’s lecture is about to drill a hole in my brain.”

“Wait.” Marlene spoke to someone. After a minute she came back on the line. “Bill Hardy is here. He said he’d come along with me.”

“Bill Hardy?”

Marlene spoke to the phantom Bill. “I’ll lock up and meet you at the garage.” The bell above the door tinkled and Marlene spoke into the phone. “Bill owns the repair shop down the street from me.”

That must be the shop Darrell warned her against. “The Conoco? How do you know Bill?”

“He’s a friend.” Marlene sounded distracted, probably closing up the Read Rock.

“And you think he’s a good mechanic? Fair?”

“What are you talking about? I just told you he’s a friend. So yeah, he’s fair. Would you like to call the Better Business Bureau?” The bell dinged again and a door bang closed.

Nora closed her eyes against the glare. “No, sorry. I’m not thinking.”

“Of course not. We’re on the way.”

Marlene and Bill Hardy arrived in less than a half hour, long enough for Abigail to calm down. She had pulled out some moistened towelettes and done some sort of magical repair to her face and hair that made her look as though she’d just stepped out of the salon. The sweat drying from her shirt and a quick wipe of one of Abigail’s towlettes constituted enough freshening up for Nora.

Park rangers and a few curious tourists ventured out, hoping to get the story. Nora explained the brake failure and that help was on the way. Since no one was injured and the damage was limited to the Jeep’s mirrors, the authorities seemed willing to let the incident drop.

Abigail sat in the Jeep with the doors opened to catch the slight breeze. Abbey stretched out in the shade under the Jeep. Nora paced, going from a three-foot Mormon tea shrub, around two rocks the size of picnic tables, and back again, her boots crunching on a crust of gravel and grit.

Marlene and Bill arrived in a tow truck that had faded to a colorless gray. Tool boxes lined the heavy truck and an assortment of tools and equipment filled the bed. Marlene spilled out of the passenger side, her red-and-yellow-striped skirt billowing in the breeze. She strode over to Nora and Abigail and stopped to inspect them. “You seem okay.”

“Barely,” Abigail spewed in a breathless fury. “That Jeep is done for and it nearly took us out with it.”

Bill Hardy sauntered over. He might have been fifty or eighty, with deep lines etched in his face. He reached out to shake Nora’s hand, his grease-stained paw bearing black half moons under his fingernails. He wore dark blue Oshkosh overalls and a stretched and faded T-shirt. “How do.”

Nora accepted his quick and crushing handshake. “The brakes went out.”

“Hmm.” He stepped to the Jeep and popped the hood. He
hummed while he surveyed the engine. Nora turned to Marlene. “Thank you so much for coming out here,” she said.

Abigail gazed up at Marlene, whose Amazonian elegance seemed fitting to the red stone and sand. “You’re an angel. I just don’t know what we would have done without you.”

Still humming, Bill pulled back from the engine and squatted down to look under the Jeep.

Marlene watched the mechanic as he got on his hands and knees and reached behind the passenger side front wheel. “You were lucky Bill was in the shop when you called. He’s a big mystery fan and comes in once a month for all the new paperbacks.”

Bill came out from under the Jeep and put a hand on the fender to help himself up. “Found your problem. It’s an easy fix and you’ll be on your way.” He ambled toward his truck.

“What happened?” Nora asked.

He rummaged in the bed of his truck and pulled out a plastic gallon container and held it up. “Out of brake fluid.”

Abigail crept up behind him. “That’s all?”

He walked back to the Jeep and addressed Nora. “Have you noticed the brakes getting spongy lately?”

She nodded.

“Fluid’s probably been leaking out for a couple of days. When you hit the brakes coming down that slope, it squeezed the last of the fluid out and then you were done. Nice work getting her slowed down and stopped, though.” He picked up his humming again.

“I’ve never heard of the brakes losing fluid,” Abigail said.

He interrupted his humming. “I haven’t seen it myself. Not like this.”

“What do you mean?” Nora asked.

He twisted the cap of the brake fluid container. “Looked like the bleeder valve somehow worked loose. Then the drive sort of wiggled it even more loose. It leaked out a little at a time, until you hit them hard, then it blew the rest of the fluid out.” He unscrewed a cap in the engine and poured the fluid. “I tightened the bleeder valve and I’ll get this filled up. You’ll be good to go.”

“How would this have happened?” Nora asked.

He put the cap back on the jug and puckered his lips in consideration. “I don’t know.”

Abigail crossed her arms. “It happened because this Jeep is so old it’s literally falling apart. I say we drive it right onto a lot in Moab and get you something decent.”

Bill sauntered back to his tow truck. “Oh, this beauty has lots of life in her. I wouldn’t go trading her off just yet. Especially now that she’s all fixed up.”

Nora braced herself. “What do I owe you?”

He placed the jug into the mess of his truck bed. He squinted his eyes and gazed down the road, calculating. “Let’s see. Mileage out here both ways, plus filling the fluid.” He winked at Nora. “And a little something for my expertise.” Here it comes. Darrell said this guy gouged tourists. “How about twenty bucks?”

Nora waited. The first twenty for the drive one way, then another twenty for the drive back. Add a hundred or so for his expertise.

He waited. Frowned. “You think that’s too much?”

Marlene hit Nora on the arm. “Twenty? For the whole thing?” she stammered.

He hardened his face. “Any lower and I’d lose money on the gas alone.”

“No, no. Of course.” Nora trotted back to her Jeep. She dug in her pack for her wallet, extracted a twenty and a ten. Then put the ten back and took another twenty. She hurried to Bill and handed him the cash.

He took it, then held out one of the bills. “You got a couple of them stuck together.”

“That’s for you. For your trouble. Buy yourself a few new paperbacks.” He shrugged as though he couldn’t understand her and didn’t really care to. He climbed back into the truck.

Marlene and Abigail stood chatting by the passenger door to the truck. Nora hurried over. “I hate that you closed the bookstore for this. If I’d been thinking, I would have called the shop where I had it fixed earlier. But I’m really glad I didn’t. Bill’s great.”

Marlene glanced into the cab and grinned. “And more well-read than you’d expect. Where did you have it worked on before?”

“A shop Darrell suggested.”

Marlene tilted her head. “What’s the name of it?”

Nora tried to remember the logo on the letterhead. “A star or planet or something.”

Marlene’s eyebrows drew together. “Polaris?”

That didn’t sound good. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” Marlene’s worried eyes didn’t look like it was nothing.

Abigail put her hand on Marlene’s arm. “You need to tell us.”

Marlene gazed up at the spires in the distance. She inhaled and looked at Nora. “Polaris is owned by one of the oldest Mormon families in Moab. They kind of keep to themselves and mostly service their own and relatives’ vehicles.”

“So?” Abigail was clearly running out of patience.

“Ranching around here is a hard way to make a living. Most ranchers need to supplement their income.”

“And?” Abigail urged.

“Lee works for them sometimes.”

If that hadn’t knocked the air out of Nora, the next words out of Marlene’s mouth would have.

“They serviced Lisa’s truck.” Marlene paused. “Right before her brakes went out.”