Whitehorse (31 page)

"Right, Johnny?" Ted repeated.

"Right," he finally replied.

Inspector Chuck Parker had put on forty pounds since the night he'd tackled Johnny out near White Sands. Johnny had always suspected that Officer Parker had done much to dissuade the irate Texan, whose Cadillac and girlfriend Johnny had hijacked on a whim, from pressing charges of auto theft against him. Parker's hair had thinned and grayed and he'd grown a substantial mustache that exaggerated the puffiness of his cheeks. By the looks of his red eyes and flushed face, Johnny suspected high blood pressure. His weight wouldn't help matters.

Parker put a cup of hot black coffee in front of Johnny, then took a seat across the table, next to Robert Anderson, Johnny's attorney.

Johnny sipped at the steaming java, and winced. "Still tastes like old gym socks, Parker."

"I thought you'd appreciate it, Johnny. Brings back old memories, huh?"

"There were times I thought you were going to feed me this stuff intravenously."

"Anything to get your head straight." Parker sat back in his chair and laced his fat fingers over his belly. "I hoped we'd never see you back in this place."

"Thirteen years is a long time to go without getting in trouble, you gotta admit."

"This is hardly petty stuff, is it?"

"Hardly,"
Anderson
joined in. He tapped the table with one finger as he studied Parker's face. "Are you arresting my client, Inspector? If not, why are we here?"

"Thought you'd like to know that forensics has possible proof that someone ran you off of that road, like you said. They've located gouge marks and scrapes on the driver's side of the car that would indicate a collision of some sort with another automobile. There are also dents in the back fender, as well as broken taillights. They'll take paint samples—"

"The car was black. You don't need paint samples to determine that," Johnny pointed out.

"Okay. You want to tell me again why you think Foster is behind this?"

"Who the hell else has reason to shut me and Dolores up?"

"Granted, you've been pretty vocal about your displeasure of his handling the gambling issue. But, hell, Johnny. That's an ongoing argument that, while hot, is hardly enough to warrant murder."

"Since Foster took office he's been an opponent of reservation casino gambling in this state. He feels it gives the Native Americans too much power. God forbid the sickening unemployment on these reservations gets wiped out. God forbid families have the money to feed and clothe their children properly. Educate the Indians and they're liable to vote him out of office and shut down his aspirations of running for president."

Johnny shoved his coffee away. "A little too convenient that he suddenly does an about-face after the resort went belly up and reverted to Formation Media. Now he's supposed to invite statewide gambling because he thinks it's a
good
thing for the people?" He shook his head. "There's not much hope of the Native Americans becoming involved considering we all lost our butts on the Apache Casino and Resort."

"
Lot
of folks feel that gambling corrupts."

"So do poverty and ignorance and sickness."

Parker sat forward, his elbows propped on the table. He toyed with a book of matches and remained silent for a while. Finally, he said, "Let me get this straight. You think Foster took a bribe from Formation Media to stall the construction completion on the resort long enough so the resort was unable to open in time; therefore, the resort consortium was unable to make their loan payment to Formation, who then acted on the loan default and took control of the development. Somehow Dolores found the proof that she needed to link Foster to Formation; he learned about it and attempted to kill you both—or had someone do it for him."

Parker looked skeptical. "That makes no sense. With the shutdown of construction on that project, Formation has lost its ass. Why would Formation shoot itself in the foot?"

"Insurance,"
Anderson
provided.

"Not good enough." Johnny shook his head. "Insurance wouldn't provide a profit. They would be lucky to get back what they had already spent." Johnny pushed back his chair and stood up. He proceeded to pace. "Formation is a giant in resort development. Eight of the last six mega-resorts have been developed and financed by Formation:
Toronto
, Vegas,
Atlantic City
. Over the last five years they've gobbled up the competition by buying out the
New York
-
New York
and the Bellagio before it even completed construction. In
Atlantic City
they moved in on the Trump Taj Mahal and Harrah's. There were rumors that they attempted to bully their way into Branson, but it didn't happen. They want tight control over major competition. Maybe they thought that the Apache resort would ultimately cut into the Vegas traffic. Or maybe they decided the resort was too ripe a plum not to own it one hundred percent. Either way, they got to Foster. Maybe they promised to finance his next election. Or, more important, his bid for the presidency. I know for a fact that there is only one thing Foster worships more than money, and that's power. He'd sell his soul to eternal damnation if he thought it would buy him the White House."

"We have to find Dolores's contact,"
Anderson
said.

"That might be tough," Parker replied. "If he suspects that the cause of the wreck was intentional … he's not likely to put himself in jeopardy again."

Johnny looked around, frowning. "If he's smart he's left the country. If Foster was aware that Dolores had discovered he's dirty by way of a snitch, then he must also know who the snitch is. All the more reason we sit on this information a while longer. No way we should allow the press to think this incident was anything more than an accident."

Parker drank his coffee and continued to watch Johnny. "Dolores never hinted about her contact? Never gave you any indication who was feeding her information?"

"She wanted all the glory to herself. She saw it as a way to get her out of Ruidoso and into the big time. I also think she was protecting her source." Johnny gave Parker a thin smile. "Which makes me think her source was someone closer to her than I ever suspected. Dolores wasn't above tossing a baby to lions if she thought it would protect her own interests."

Parker took a weary breath and shook his head. "She sure got her wish, didn't she? She found a way to get the hell out of Ruidoso … for good."

Her eyes closed and every muscle in her body aching, Leah soaked for an hour in hot water and gardenia-scented bubbles, a sweating bottle of white Zinfandel on the floor by the tub, and Neil Diamond crooning to her from the tape deck perched on the dressing table in her bedroom.

The phone rang and Shamika ran from the kitchen to answer it, her voice drowned out by Diamond's "Brooklyn Roads."

Shamika tapped on the door.

"I'm not home," Leah replied, reaching for her glass of wine and sinking deeper into the tub. "Especially if it's Johnny. I don't want to talk to him, Shamika. I don't want to see him. Tell him to go away!"

"It's not Johnny."

Frowning, Leah downed the wine.

"It's Greg Hunnicutt from the track. Remember, he was going to call you today about the vet job—"

God, she'd totally forgotten!

With bubbles dripping off her legs, Leah wrapped a towel around her and ran from the bathroom, leaving a trail of soapy water down the hallway. Val sat in his wheelchair before the television, his face brightening with pleasure as Leah grabbed up the receiver and planted a kiss on his forehead. "This is it, puddin'," she whispered. "Wish me luck."

Taking a steadying breath, Leah raised the receiver to her ear. "Hello?"

"Doc Starr? Greg Hunnicutt here. How you doin', darlin'? Have yourself a good weekend?"

She rolled her eyes and rubbed her sore buttocks. "Great, Greg. And you?"

"Not bad, not bad. Guess you've heard of Johnny's problems. Hell, it's probably made the news in
Bangladesh
. Too bad about Miss Rainwater. Shit, when God decides it's time to go he don't fool around, does he?"

"Tragic," she said, her gaze falling on the television screen, where images of Dolores's crushed and burned car were followed by those of a funeral procession arriving at the Catholic church on the Mescalero reservation.

"We got a message from Johnny about an hour ago. He was the last holdout on your appointment, but he's given us the go-ahead to bring you on."

Leah sank to the sofa in relief.

"'Course you know you'll need to get your state license before you can actually practice on the track. But if you want to come on out tomorrow morning first thing, I'll get you introduced to the trainers and your coworker, Jake Graham."

She nodded. "I'll be there, Mr. Hunnicutt."

"Greg, darlin'. We don't stand on formalities here. See you at six sharp."

"Thank you."

"Hell, don't thank me yet, Leah. A month from now you might be cussin' my ass for ever gettin' you in this situation."

"I won't let you down, Greg."

He was silent for a moment, then, "I know you won't, hon. If I'd thought that I never would have pitched you to the lot of hyenas. Now get you some rest, 'cuz you're gonna need it. Bye."

Leah hung up the phone and sat back on the sofa. Val watched her with bright, sparkling eyes and a smile.

"Mama happy?"

She nodded. "Very happy."

"Mama give Val a hug?"

Grinning, she crossed to her son and lifted him out of his chair, returned to the sofa and cradled him in her lap. Stroking his hair, she focused again on the television at the reporter who stared into the camera and relayed the day's news from the prompter.

"The media turned up in full force to see Johnny Whitehorse attend the funeral of his fiancée, Dolores Rainwater.
Whitehorse
was surrounded by bodyguards and legal representatives as he made his way into the church, where the services were attended by Dolores's friends and co-workers here at Channel 10.

"It is our understanding that
Whitehorse
spent the hours after the service being questioned by investigators as to the cause of the accident and the drugs that were found in Miss Rainwater's system at the time of her death. According to the DA, Phil Singer,
Whitehorse
has agreed to a polygraph. The DA's office is still waiting on the outcome of the drug tests taken on
Whitehorse
's blood immediately after the accident.

"Law enforcement officials as well as the DA's office are keeping tight-lipped about this investigation. They are unprepared at this time to discuss any part of their interview with
Whitehorse
, and have announced that there will be no forthcoming information until all aspects of his interview have been investigated."

Leah watched as Johnny left the church surrounded by bodyguards. Wearing dark glasses and a black suit, he avoided looking directly at the lineup of fans, television camera crews, and the ever-present paparazzi. Reaching for the remote, Leah pointed it at the screen and hit the Power button.