Tres Leches Cupcakes (29 page)

She spared only another moment on the cowboy before her attention was taken over by the balloons now on either side of her. Teams hooked fans to the basket end of their balloons. The fabric seemed dainty as the air stretched it toward the pale pink moon, which was just rising from the eastern end of the valley. Within two minutes, both billowing mounds stood taller than she was.

Other balloons across the field were fully inflated now, dozens of colorful droplets standing stark against the graying sky. A roaring whoosh sounded from behind her, and she turned to see a patchwork-designed balloon twenty yards away light up like a lightbulb; Sadie marveled that the silken fabric didn’t catch on fire. The baskets were held to the ground by teams of men and women in orange vests pulling on ropes as the balloons attempted to rise. Burners would roar intermittently, lighting the balloons and making the seams stand out against the glowing interior. The sky got darker, but with more and more balloons lighting up, the view across the field was staggering.
Oh, Pete, I wish I were watching this with you!

It wasn’t until the two balloons nearest to her were fully inflated that she spotted Ethan’s balloon on the west end of the field. Sadie hesitated, but then started walking toward it. Pete had told her not to expect an update from Marcus, but she could at least ask Ethan if he’d talked to the police yet—assuming he was here and not in Santa Fe this very minute. Each time a burner lit up, however, she stopped and felt the awe all over again.

The announcers began bantering over the loudspeakers, talking about the history of the Fiesta and how many balloons were on the field tonight—almost two hundred. Sadie walked faster, trying to keep the Standage balloon in sight. There was a white balloon with pink and purple flowers on it. Another balloon was shaped like a beer bottle, and yet another like a teapot. The Spider-pig balloon—a pig in a Spider-Man costume—had been one of the first ones fully inflated tonight; it was a real crowd-pleaser.

Burners still roared here and there across the park, producing enough hot air to keep the balloon shapes intact. She missed what the announcers said before they began counting down from ten. The crowd began to chant with them, and Sadie stopped walking, not wanting to miss whatever the countdown was leading up to. At the count of “One,” balloons across the field roared together as burners engaged and two hundred hot air balloons glowed from their self-contained firelight.

A cheer erupted from the crowd as people clapped and whistled at the first “All Burn” of the Fiesta. Sadie couldn’t help but clap as well. It was truly a magnificent sight, and Sadie’s chest tingled with delightful excitement at beholding something so unique. How had she never attended this event before now?

Families had brought lawn chairs, and huge groups of people clustered in the open spaces, leaving only ten to fifteen feet between the spectators and balloonists. The men and women in or near the baskets, or holding the cords that kept the balloons from swaying too much in the breeze, looked serious and intent. Ballooning might be a hobby for these people, but it wasn’t one they took lightly.

The wind was picking up, and the chase crews responsible for holding the ropes were struggling to keep some of the balloons upright. One chaser, a boy of about fifteen, was lifted completely off his feet when a gust of wind caught the wall of his balloon, pulling it hard. There was shouting and calling back and forth between the balloon teams. One man called out that he was taking his down, then another voice several yards away said the same thing about another balloon. Was it ending already? Would Standage take down his balloon before she got there? Sadie turned around and bumped into a man’s chest.

“Ooph,” she said, hurrying to step back. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” She caught sight of Standage’s balloon over the man’s shoulder before making eye contact, only to realize that of the thousands of people in the park, she’d run into the same man who’d prevented her from walking into the uninflated balloon fifteen minutes earlier. Could it be a coincidence that she’d run into him—literally—again?

Sadie didn’t believe in coincidences.

The man in the cowboy hat smiled at Sadie in what she assumed was supposed to be a kind way before stepping out of her way without saying a word . . . again.

Sadie moved past him without saying thank you and refused to look over her shoulder to get a last glance at him. Instead, she picked up her pace in pursuit of her reason for being here—Ethan Standage. The Cowboy’s presence rattled her however, and she thought more about the first time she’d encountered him. She thought she’d seen him before tonight. But where? When? Was he following her?

The big, yellow Standage balloon seemed to be straight ahead. It was on the edge of the field, close to many other balloons, but not as surrounded by the crowds that seemed to have amassed in the center of the field. She rounded a large family that was sitting, like everyone else, in the middle of the field, then moved around a mostly-inflated blue balloon with the name of a realty company emblazoned on it.

She heard the announcers begin another countdown. There must have been fewer speakers on this end of the field, because the voices weren’t as loud, and though she was tempted to stop and enjoy the spectacular display of another All Burn, she was close enough to Standage’s balloon that she didn’t dare risk losing her momentum. As strange as it seemed, with her disconcerting thoughts about the Cowboy, Standage’s balloon felt like a safe zone.

“Five!”

“Four!”

“Three!”

“Two!”

Moments before the crowd shouted the last number, she felt something press into her back. A hand snaked around her stomach and grabbed her wrist, causing her to freeze.

“One!”

The roar of two hundred burners filled the air; Standage’s balloon, only a dozen yards away, lit up as well.

A man’s voice spoke in her ear. “Keep walking. If you stop before I tell you to, this knife will go clean through your ribs, puncture a lung, and you’ll bleed to death before anyone knows what’s happened.”

Biscochitos

1 cup shortening—butter flavor works well

1 cup sugar, divided ¾ cup and ¼ cup

1 egg

3 cups flour

¼ teaspoon salt

1½ teaspoons baking powder

2 teaspoons anise seed, crushed or ground (or 1 teaspoon anise extract)

3 tablespoons brandy or apple juice

1 teaspoon cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cream shortening and ¾ cup sugar together. Add egg. Mix well, then add flour, salt, baking powder, and anise seed. Mix well. Add brandy or apple juice and mix well. Dough will be a little crumbly, so add more liquid if needed and press together with hands. Combine ¼ cup sugar and cinnamon.

Roll dough out to ½-inch thickness and cut with cookie cutters. (Fleur-de-lis is the traditional shape.) Dust with sugar and cinnamon mixture. Place cookies 2 inches apart on cookie sheet.

Bake for 10 minutes or until golden brown. Cool on pan 2 minutes before removing to cooling rack.

Makes about 2 dozen 2-inch cookies.

Chapter 28

Though a momentary fear washed over her, a split-second later Sadie imagined herself twisting to the side and grabbing the man’s hand that was holding the knife against her back. She’d done that move a hundred times in her self-defense classes.

“Try anything at all and Margo dies,” the man said in a gruff whisper before she executed the move.

Sadie froze. “Margo?” she said under her breath. “Where is she?”

“I can take you to her.”

After learning about Margo’s involvement in the preservationist group, Sadie had experienced a resurgence of hope that she was in fact alive, perhaps hiding underground somewhere. Before then, keeping her quiet was the only plausible motive Sadie had been able to come up with for Langley leading her away.

Sadie’s mind spun as he pushed her forward into a walk. She would be a fool to believe her captor, but if he had Margo . . . She hadn’t been seen for five days. “Where is she? Why are you taking me to her?”

“Because you have somethin’ we need.”

“What?” They were quickly approaching a big white van parked on the edge of the field. Anxiety kicked in along with her observation skills. Some sections of paint on the door were brighter than others—a decal recently removed, maybe? She couldn’t see the license plate or the make of the van. The Cowboy smelled like cigarettes.

“We’re gonna have us a discussion about all of this, so just hold your pretty little horses.” She could tell by his voice that he was smiling.

“I need proof,” Sadie said, frantically trying to decide what to do. What if this was her only chance to find Margo? “I need to talk to her before I’ll go with you.”

“Oh, you’re comin’,” the Cowboy said. “I’m not really leaving that decision up to you.”

When they were a few feet from the van, the side door pushed open, and a younger man jumped out. Seeing the gaping interior of the van—there were no seats, just space—gave Sadie a burst of fear, and she began struggling.

“I—” The Cowboy clamped a hand over her mouth, and she realized she’d waited too long to put up a fight. Between the second man and the Cowboy, they lifted her and threw her inside the van, stripping her purse from her arm in the process.

She tried to scramble to her feet as soon as she hit the floor, but the second man pulled the door shut before she could get up, and then he pinned her to the floor of the van by pressing his knee against her head. His hand was over her mouth as soon as she’d thought to scream, while the fingers of his other hand dug into the space just below her clavicle. Like her, he knew pressure points, and the pain and nerve cessation his actions produced rendered her nearly incapacitated.

She couldn’t help but scream against his hand, though, as he pressed harder and harder. Fabric was pushed into her mouth, causing her to gag while forcing her to breathe through her nose. He moved his knee to her back, and then he pulled her arms back, quickly tying her wrists together—a process not much different from the calves she’d seen roped at a rodeo Caro had taken her to the first week she was in Santa Fe.

She tried to pull her wrists apart as much as possible to allow some space, but her captor tightened the knots until Sadie worried the bones would break if she resisted anymore. Her ankles were quickly tied together as well, sending her panic levels to the moon. Pieces of sand from the floor stuck to her cheek. She tried to catch her breath and maintain rational thought.

The van engine roared to life, and the second man hastily patted her down. Her pockets were empty except for her car key. She always kept her key on her person per Pete’s advice; it had saved her life before. The man removed it and threw it onto the passenger seat of the van. Was her purse there too? She continued fighting.

“You’ll only make this worse,” he said while pushing her head down again, causing more sand to press into her skin.

She stopped fighting, and a few seconds later, he moved away from her completely. She could hear him shifting around as though trying to make himself comfortable. The van turned, then turned again, and then began picking up speed.

It was hard to breathe with the gag in her mouth, and she could feel the tightness building in her chest as she thought about Pete, Caro, Shawn, and Breanna—they wouldn’t know what happened to her. They wouldn’t know where to start looking. Was this what had happened to Margo?

As her breathing increased, it became more difficult to get air. The gag was choking her, and though she tried to calm herself, it wasn’t working. She tried to lift her head, only to have it shoved against the floor. She tried to roll onto her back, but her arms were tied, and each time she lifted a shoulder, she was shoved down again. She needed to tell them she wasn’t going to fight them, she just needed air. Panic set in, and soon she was kicking again and screaming behind her gag. She was dying, right here, right now. Her shoulders and wrists burned, but she almost couldn’t feel it as the panic rose higher and higher.

“Stop,” the man said, hitting her in the back of the head.

That only increased her panic. Logic had no play now; pure survival instinct took over. The man said something, but she couldn’t register the words. Did he realize she couldn’t breathe? Did he know he was killing her? She heard the other man’s voice—the Cowboy—but his words didn’t make sense either. She threw her right shoulder up and managed to get on her side. She kicked her bound legs like a dolphin until she flipped onto her back.

Things seemed better when she was staring at the ceiling of the van. She felt like she could expand her lungs at least, but she was still choking on the gag. The man who’d tied her up was sitting against the side of the van, staring at her while she thrashed around, kicking from side to side. The Cowboy was yelling. Sadie felt bile rising in her throat and looked at her captor pleadingly. She was going to die either by suffocation or by drowning in her own vomit if he didn’t do something. Her attempts at screaming were little more than guttural sounds coming from her heaving chest. Light began to pop in her peripheral vision, and she continued to stare at him. Is this really what he wanted to have happen? Her dying in the back of this van?