Eagle's Last Stand (19 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

“I shouldn’t have told you that, Kim, not right now,” he said, cutting into her thoughts less than a mile later. “We have to focus on one thing—survival.”

“But I feel the same way about you, Rick. I—”

“No. Don’t say anything else, not until the danger’s past. Do this for me. For us.”

She wasn’t sure if he thought he’d change his mind after the dust cleared or whether he thought she might. Either way, she wouldn’t press him. Trying to hide her disappointment, she nodded. “Okay.”

Twenty minutes later they reached the high school south of the main highway. “School hasn’t let out yet, so she probably won’t be surrounded by students,” he said, passing by without slowing. “There’s the catering truck parked just down the road.”

“Good. That’ll make my work easier,” Kim said, not looking directly as they passed the truck, which now had the sliding panel up and counter out, ready for customers.

“Listen to me carefully, Kim. If you sense trouble, cut it short and head back to the SUV.”

“Sure, but remember I’m not going to confront her. I’m going to talk to her—one working woman to another.”

“All right. I’ll park here, out of sight.” He turned into a big empty lot a few hundred yards farther down.

* * *

K
IM
TOOK
A
deep breath, smiled and went up to the catering truck’s window. “I’m starving. What do you have that I can eat fast?”

The young woman smiled. “Lucky you’re going to just beat the after-school rush.”

“Which means I’ve got to hurry. What can you recommend?” Kim asked.

“My bestseller is the green chili burger on homemade tortillas.”

“Sounds good. I’ll have one,” she said. “Mild.”

As the woman assembled the burger, Kim introduced herself.

“I’m Bonnie,” the woman answered. “You’re new around here, aren’t you?”

“At this high school here, yes. I’m substituting today. But I grew up in Hartley.”

“Half an hour drive. That’s not too bad,” Bonnie said.

Kim rubbed the back of her neck with one hand and made sure the woman saw the gesture. “I’ve been sitting at the desk way too long. Time for stretching exercises. I just wish I could find something to ease the sore muscles. The over-the-counter pills give me stomach problems and the ointments smell like a locker room.”

“Have you considered herbs? Our medicine men are very knowledgeable about things like that.”

“That’s what I’ve heard. Can you recommend someone?”

“No, not really. The one I knew isn’t around anymore,” she said, placing the snack-size burger in a small microwave oven as she spoke.

“My friend got a cream from a local medicine man, Mr....something. Ruby swore by it, but I can’t remember the man’s name.”

“Hosteen Silver?” Bonnie asked. Seeing Kim nod, she smiled sadly and continued. “He was really nice, and a great healer. My aunt would take him some of my freshly made breakfast burritos every morning. She was his apprentice for a time.” Bonnie took the warmed burger out of the microwave and placed it on the counter.

“Your aunt is a medicine woman?” Kim asked, paying for the food.

“No, she didn’t want to spend half her life in training. She got married instead.”

“This burger’s excellent,” Kim said after taking a bite. “When the kids are out, like for lunch, I’m sure business is nonstop. Do you have any helpers?”

“My aunt used to help me get the
naniscaadas
ready each morning, but now she has her own business.”

Hearing a bell, Kim turned toward the high school’s main building. “I better get back to my room before I get run down by the fleeing kids,” Kim said.

She left quickly and within a minute was surrounded by teens hurrying toward the food truck. Kim reversed course and walked back to the SUV, this time passing behind the food truck and staying out of view.

She ate the last bite as she slipped inside the SUV. “Now we have confirmation that Sandoval was telling the truth. Angelina used to help Bonnie make the
naniscaada,
then would take freshly made breakfast burritos over to your foster father every morning.”

“Let me call Preston. This doesn’t constitute proof, but it’s something to work from.”

Preston answered on the first ring and Rick put his phone on speaker. “I’m at the medical investigator’s lab now,” Preston announced. “The preliminary tests run on tissue samples drew a blank. One of the lab techs found a dried leaf in his shirt pocket, however. At first it looked like parsley, but the botanist recognized it as
Aethusa cynapium,
known commonly as fool’s parsley or, get this, garden hemlock.”

“Hemlock is deadly, remember Socrates?” Kim commented.

“Exactly,” Preston responded. “According to what I was told, death can take anywhere from hours to days. If that’s what killed him, Hosteen Silver might have known what was coming. The problem is that it’s hard to prove it is the cause of death, because the only postmortem sign of hemlock is asphyxia. That can’t be established, not now.”

“That leaf didn’t end up in his pocket by accident. In his last hours he must have suspected the source and kept that leaf for someone—maybe us—to find,” Rick said.

“Problem is, we can’t prove who put that poison in his food, or even if that’s what killed him,” Preston pointed out.

“If you come up with any ideas, let me know. I’ll do the same.” Rick ended the call.

Pulling to the side of the road, Rick stopped the SUV and turned to look at Kim. “Looks like we have to force the issue. Angelina’s easily angered, so I think it’s time to push her and see what happens.”

“I agree. Today’s Friday, her day to go see two silversmiths who live up by Teec Nos Pos, just inside the Arizona state line. The drive usually stresses her out, but she’s always insisted on going herself. The woman doesn’t trust anyone else to bargain hard enough. If we catch her on the road, I’m willing to bet it won’t take much to rattle her.”

He considered it. “I’m going to bluff her out to see if I can make her blink first,” he said. “Any idea where these silversmiths live?”

“Yes. Angelina kept a map in the store so we could track her down if she got stuck in bad weather or had car trouble. She takes the northwest road out of Shiprock to Teec Nos Pos, turns south at mile marker twenty-nine just past the local Chapter House, then continues on a dirt road into the foothills for about five miles. The silversmiths are father and son, but she has to deal with them separately.”

Rick called his brothers and asked them to meet him at mile marker twenty-nine.

* * *

R
ICK
AND
K
IM
were already halfway there, so they arrived first and pulled off the main highway, positioning the vehicle so they could see anyone coming their way up the dirt road. Daniel, Paul and Preston would be delayed by a half hour.

“She normally arrives back at the store before six, and it’s about fifty-five miles from here. If her business is done, she should be passing through here before long.”

After ten minutes she pointed. “That looks like her pickup coming in our direction.”

“All right then.” Rick pulled out and blocked the road.

A minute later the truck was close enough for them to confirm who was driving. Angelina honked the horn, slowed and finally stopped about fifteen feet up the road.

She climbed out, a thirty-thirty Winchester rifle in her hand. “What’s going on here?”

Rick got out and walked over to the front of the vehicle. “Remember me?”

“Like a disease. When you’re around, nothing good ever happens. Get out of my way.”

Rick took a breath, determined to keep his cool. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

“Forget it. I’m not interested.”

“You better be, because the Navajo police are on their way here as we speak,” he answered, lying through his teeth.

Angelina watched Kim as she came out the driver’s side and walked over to stand beside Rick. “You traitor.”

Kim said nothing and Angelina kept her rifle in front of her, not aiming at the moment.

“You’ll be interested to know we found my foster father’s body,” he said. “It was up in one of those caves, easy walking distance from where you used to live in that mobile home. Did he die on the way there or on the way back? Tell me.”

Angelina’s eyes widened slightly, then settled down. “After nearly three years, you finally went looking for that old fool?” She shuddered. “How do you know it was even him?”

“There was no mistaking his clothing, his belt and, of course, his hair. That remains long after death when preserved in a dry cave,” he said. “But here’s where it gets interesting, Angelina. His final act was to scratch out your name on the wall of the cave.”

Her eyes narrowed for a second. She cleared her throat. “He had a thing for me. I must have been the last person he thought of before he died.”

“No, he was poisoned and the police think he did that to name his killer. He also kept a leaf in his pocket. A leaf of fool’s parsley—garden hemlock. Where’d you get that anyway? Grow it on a windowsill, maybe?”

Angelina stood rock-still, but her right index finger inched toward the rifle’s trigger.

“And we know how you delivered the fatal dose, too,” Kim added. “You brought food from Bonnie’s truck out to Hosteen Silver every morning. You helped her fix them, as a matter of fact. A little extra chili on it...and something that looked like parsley. He never even noticed until it was too late.”

“He taught you all about plants, and you used that against him,” Rick snarled. “Before the police get here, at least tell me why you killed him. That’s the only part I still don’t get.”

Angelina levered a shell into the rifle chamber. “If only you’d just run off that cliff...”

“Don’t get stupid, Angelina. If you shoot us, any chance you have will go right out the window. We’re standing in Arizona now, and they have the death penalty.”

He pointed down the road toward the west. A white sedan was heading their way. “There’s the Arizona highway patrol right now.” He was bluffing.

As Angelina swung the rifle barrel around, Rick dove behind the engine compartment, pushing Kim down ahead of him. “Stay low,” he yelled, rolling up into a crouch.

Angelina fired, the bullet ricocheting off the reinforced hood.

Rick poked his head out around the front bumper and ducked back as she fired again, shattering the front headlight inches from his head.

Rick reached down for his pistol, but his holster was empty. Glancing around, he spotted the pistol lying in the sand a few feet away. It must have slipped out when he’d dived to the ground. He lunged for it just as Angelina jumped into her pickup.

As he brought the pistol up, shaking sand from the barrel, Angelina sped by Rick’s vehicle on the passenger side, sideswiping the SUV with a teeth-shattering screech.

Rick, on one knee, spun around, aimed carefully and fired two rounds into the rear of her truck as it reached the highway.

“She’s getting away,” Kim yelled, racing around to the passenger side as Angelina sped east toward Teec Nos Pos.

Rick jumped in and handed her his pistol. Whipping the vehicle around, he pulled onto the road right behind a frightened-looking elderly couple in a white sedan. They were clearly not Arizona Highway Patrol officers.

As they accelerated after the fleeing silver pickup, Rick looked over at Kim. “You okay?”

She looked down at her right hand, which was on her lap on top of his pistol. “Scrapes and stickers, but mostly I’m angry.”

“Me, too.”

His phone rang, and with a flick of his finger, he put it on speaker, keeping both hands on the wheel. Doing eighty, Rick whipped around the white sedan as if it was standing still.

“Hey, Rick, where are you?” It was Preston’s voice. “A silver pickup almost ran us off the road. Was that—?”

“Angelina,” Rick confirmed. “We’re coming up fast. Once we pass you, turn around and give chase.”

“Copy. I see you now.”

Kim signaled the men as they raced past Rick’s brothers at ninety miles per hour.

“You’re flying, bro, slow down.” Preston’s voice came over the phone instantly.

“Can’t. Unless I keep her in sight, she could pull off anywhere.”

“She won’t get far. I see a trail of fluid on the road. I’m guessing she’s losing gas,” Preston told him.

Kim looked down at the road ahead. “I see the shine on the asphalt.”

Rick slowed to eighty-five. “Okay. I’m slowing down. I have the truck within sight now.”

“Her new home isn’t far from here, a few miles past Beclabito, on the right,” Kim advised, referring to the small community ahead, just inside the New Mexico state line.

Rick nodded. “Hear what Kim said, guys?”

“Copy,” Preston acknowledged. “Once you confirm her route, let us know. We’re about a mile behind you now.”

About three minutes later, the Beclabito trading post fading in the rearview mirror, Kim pointed toward a cloud of dust ahead, to the right of the highway. “That’s the turnoff. Did she wreck?”

Rick took a long look and spotted a vehicle emerging from the right side of the cloud. “No, she may have spun out, though. She’s headed home, guys,” he said loud enough for Preston to hear over the speaker.

A minute later Rick turned, pointing to skid marks on the asphalt and road shoulder. “Look at those ruts. She nearly lost it making the turn.”

“Her home is a few miles ahead, just on other side of those cliffs, up against a hill,” Kim reported. “With that rifle, she might be planning to ambush us when we go through the road cut.”

Rick slowed, noting the trail of damp earth in the center of the dirt road. “Still losing gas. Once she runs out, we’ve got her.”

They topped a small rise and saw the pickup in the middle of the road about two hundred yards ahead. Steep cliffs rose on both sides of the road cut. “How many rounds did she fire from that Winchester?” Kim asked.

“Three, maybe four. Her rifle holds six to seven rounds normally, so she’s still armed and dangerous. With that weapon she also has a range advantage and hitting power over our pistols.”