Forbidden Entry (2 page)

Should I make a U-turn and head back towards the freeway? Would I be trading one traffic backup for another? I spotted a second group of bicyclists heading towards me, this time from the opposite direction. I shouted out the open window as they approached. “Hey! Got any idea what's going on up ahead?”

One of the riders slowed, thumbed behind him and shouted, “Rollover crash! Cave Creek Road intersection…medical chopper on the way.”

Oh. So it wasn't just road construction. So much for the phone app. “Thanks!” I watched wistfully as the bikers raced on by, free as the flock of birds flying overhead. I hit the call button on my phone. No response. What? Then I noticed
No Service
blinking back at me. Groaning, I laid my forehead against the steering wheel. I waited another interminable amount of time and had just made the decision to make the U-turn and deal with the freeway, when I heard the thumping whir of helicopter blades. The chopper flew in low and descended to the ground a mile or so ahead. At that moment it struck me that someone or perhaps more than one person must be gravely injured or worse. And as that realization sunk in my agitation diminished. So I was going to be a little late. How lucky was I not to be lying on the ground or trapped in the crushed, twisted remains of my vehicle? So I might not get the place card holders Ginger wanted, or the three-dozen bud vases. So I might miss lunch. I was fine. As I sat there, engine idling, I savored the warmth of the sun on my face and the fragrant breeze shepherding fluffy white clouds across the sapphire sky. All a matter of perception, I guess. A half hour later when the chopper rose into the air, speeding southeast towards Phoenix, traffic began inching forward again. All right! I might just make it after all.

The voice message alert on my phone chimed. I tapped the screen and listened to Fritzy's husky voice, smiling at the nickname she'd given me in third grade. “Hey, Stick, call me when you get this message.”

Was I imagining the somber undertone in her voice? That didn't sound promising. I dialed her number. “You have reached the office of forensic anthropologist Dr. Nora Fitzgerald Bartoli. Please leave a message and I'll return your call.”

Dang it. I tapped her number. Two rings later I heard, “Hey there, Stick, how you doing?”

“I've been stuck in traffic for over an hour so I'm going to be late for lunch.”

“Don't sweat it. Turns out I have to cancel anyway.”

My perfect day was swiftly vanishing. “Oh, don't tell me that! Why?”

“Sorry to back out on such short notice, but I just got a call from the Yavapai County Sheriff's Office. They've got a couple of bodies they need me to take a look at and I'm already on the road.”

I tried to stifle my extreme disappointment. “That's not good news. Where are you headed?”

“Working my way north on I-17 going about ten miles an hour. Traffic is a bitch.”

“Tell me about it. I took the Carefree Highway thinking it would be faster but I ran into road construction plus a bad accident. Smart, huh?”

“I'd have probably done the same thing. Guess we'll have to hook up at your party. So…what time does your family get in today?”

I looked at the digital clock. “Two-fifteen, but judging how the day has gone so far, I'd better check and see if the flight is on time.”

“You might want to do that. I heard there's some pretty nasty weather back east.”

“I know. I sure hope it's nice while they're here.”

“How long are they staying?” she asked.

“Two weeks.”

“Cool. And you're going to get that whole time off work?”

“That's my plan. I've got their sightseeing itinerary all mapped out. Saturday we're going to Prescott for breakfast, lunch in Jerome, Sunday we'll stop in Flagstaff and then we'll be on to the Grand Canyon. Tuesday we take a Jeep tour in Monument Valley, Wednesday, Canyon de Chelly, then lunch and sightseeing in Sedona on our way back home on Thursday. After the party, we'll head to southern Arizona for a few days with the rest of the family.”

“Wow! Ambitious schedule. Sounds like a blast. I'm jealous. I've been so darn busy working, there are still a ton of places in Arizona I've yet to see. Oh well, someday. Hey, I'm looking forward to reconnecting with your family at the party. It's been ages.”

“They're excited about seeing you too.”

“Good.” She paused and added, “Hey, Stick, I'm sorry about cancelling on you.”

“I understand. Where did you say you were going?”

“Northwest of Black Canyon City to a place called Bumble Bee. I'm meeting the sheriff there.”

Bumble Bee. I vaguely remembered passing through the tiny community during the sightseeing trip with Tally. “Can you share any details?”

“Not yet.”

“Off the record?”

A short pause. “I can tell you this much. Early this morning a BLM ranger or a Forest Service ranger, or both, I can't remember exactly, reported that one of the locals had discovered the bodies of two people somewhere in the Bradshaw Mountains, but I can't divulge any other details until family has been notified.”

Two people. In the Bradshaws. A pang of uneasiness nudged my gut. Why would the authorities call Fritzy in unless there was something out of the ordinary? “Ah…it wouldn't happen to be a young man and woman?”

Her ultra-long hesitation was more revealing than her eventual answer. “I…I can't answer your question at this point.”

“Fritzy,” I asked, unable to subdue my rising sense of urgency, “can you tell me where the bodies were discovered?”

“The sheriff said about a mile from a place called Raven Creek.”

“Where's that?”

“Don't know for sure…wait a sec. We're at a dead stop. Let me look at the map on my navigation system.”

I listened to silence for a least a minute before she murmured, “Um…okay, it looks like Raven Creek is out in the middle of nowhere northwest of Cleator and about ten miles northeast of Crown King.”

As the full significance of her words sunk in, I felt like someone had jammed a fist into my belly. Oh no! My mind and heart did not want to go there but my instincts told me otherwise. What were the odds that the two dead people could be anyone other than Jenessa and Nathan?

CHAPTER

2

The traffic jam finally broke free as I snaked my way into Phoenix along with the thousands of other people who'd been stalled on the road for almost three hours. So far, the day was turning out to be far different than I'd imagined and I had to fight a sensation of gloom. Fritzy's revelation was too much of a coincidence to ignore. My finger was poised over Ginger's number, but I hesitated. Don't put the cart before the horse, my wise grandmother used to tell me. Why upset her and Marcelene needlessly? I had nothing to go on but a hunch, but the uncomfortable feeling persisted. Against my nature, I urged myself to be patient, wait for more information and verification of identity.

Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the shopping center, found what I needed at the party store, made a quick lunch stop and then checked the plane's arrival time on my phone. Fortunately for me, bad weather had delayed the flight from Pittsburgh, so I had a little breathing room. As usual, Sky Harbor International Airport was an annoying zoo of traffic. I circled the parking garage several times until I eventually snagged a space on the 4th floor. Then, it took me another fifteen minutes to get to the terminal where the “arrived” sign for their flight number blinked. I sighed with relief. Even with the three-hour traffic delay, I'd made it.

As the passengers flooded into the terminal, I searched faces until I finally spotted my mother holding a carry-on bag in one hand, her purse and heavy winter coat in the other. I could tell by her sour expression as she emerged from the gate area that something was bugging her. The corresponding smirk on my brother's face conveyed the initial impression that he'd most likely been the cause of her aggravation. But knowing how hard-headed they both were—we all were for that matter—and knowing how hypercritical my mother could sometimes be, I felt instant sympathy for my younger brother. Apparently the old adage, ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder' is true, because I was genuinely happy to see them. I loved them all fiercely, even with their numerous imperfections, of which I certainly was not exempt. My mother turned to my brother, Sean, mouthed something I could not hear and his expression turned sullen. What in the world was going on? My initial curiosity as to the cause of their disagreement faded at the first glimpse of my father's ruddy face and a wave of elation washed over me. But, my joyful anticipation turned to dismay when I noticed the crutches and the black boot on his right foot. I rushed towards him.

“Kendall!” My mother intercepted and enfolded me in one of her not overly effusive embraces. “It's been such a long time!”

“I know!” I said, hugging her back before she suddenly pushed me to arm's length.

“Look at you!” she marveled with a concerned frown. “You are so tan. And you have freckles on your nose. You're getting way too much sun. That is not good for your skin. Aren't you wearing any sunscreen?” Before I could respond, she concluded with, “You must take better care of your skin or your face will wrinkle like an old prune.”

I bit back a testy rejoinder. How typical of her to greet me with a disapproving remark. “I'm fine, Mom. Really.” In direct contrast, my family looked pale. My dad always joked that her blue-blooded English ancestry was the basis for her cool façade and the older I got, the more merit his theory seemed to hold. She had always been less approachable than my dad and definitely lacked the fiery Irish disposition that I inherited from the O'Dell side of the family.

“Let me see the ring.” She grabbed my left hand, her immediate expression of disenchantment predictable and mildly amusing. “Oh my. It looked so much bigger in the photos you sent.” A raised brow accompanied her thin-lipped smile and it was hard to miss the trace of sarcasm in her critique.

I knew she was comparing it to the enormous and pretentious ring Grant had bought for me. “Mom, it's two-carats. What do you want?”

“Oh, it's fine. It's fine. And as long as you're not disappointed, I guess that's all that counts,” she responded airily. Her calculated barb made me feel right at home and I cautioned myself against giving it right back to her. “So, I'm assuming you've set the wedding date?” she inquired, still scrutinizing my ring.

“Not yet. Let's all get through this engagement party first, okay? But, just so you know, it will probably be within a year.”

“Hey, Kenny.” Sean intervened, flashing me a conspiratorial grin before wrapping me in a bear hug, which I returned whole-heartedly. In the nine months since I'd seen him last, he looked more mature, seemed leaner and his once lush strawberry blond hair was cropped close to his head. It was also hard to miss the new skull and crossbones tattoo on his neck. By the time we pulled apart, my dad had hobbled up beside us.

“There's my pretty Pumpkin!” His familiar sunny smile seemed to light up the entire waiting area and as I slid my arms around his waist he crushed me to his chest with one arm. It was a bit awkward with the crutches clattering in my ears. Sudden tears blurred my vision as I realized just how much I had missed my family, and particularly my dad these past nine months. I squeezed him hard and drew back, meeting his sea-green eyes. “Okay, Dad, what happened to your foot and why didn't someone tell me?”

He exchanged a meaningful glance with my mother who answered for him with a sniff of disdain. “Your father didn't want to worry you. Two days ago he decided to be a hero and chase after that silly old dog. I thought we were going to have to cancel our trip.”

My brother chimed in, “Dad took one hell of a header on a patch of ice trying to keep Bozwell from getting flattened by the garbage truck.”

“Quit talking about me like I'm not here. I can speak for myself,” my dad griped, eyeing them both with irritation. “I fractured my ankle not my mouth.” Wow. They all seemed a bit grouchy today. Sean's reaction to my dad's outburst was to give him an indifferent shrug and insert his ear buds, effectively tuning him out while my mother fussed needlessly with her coat. Turning back to me, my dad explained, “Poor old thing is almost deaf and blind now. I wasn't going to just stand there and do nothing.”

Nope, that was not his style. I leveled him a look of sheer adoration. “Way to go, Dad!” Laughing, we exchanged a high five and then I asked, “How long do you have to wear that thing?” I nodded at his booted foot while linking my elbow through his, feeling grateful to once again be included in the give and take banter of my much-missed family circle. “It looks uncomfortable.”

“It is. Doctor said another six weeks or so, but I wasn't about to let this stop me from seeing you.”

“Oh, boy. I'm guessing the walking tours and the trail ride I had planned for you are out of the question.”

“Not at all,” he firmly insisted. “It's just a fracture. I'm up for just about anything unless you have hiking the Grand Canyon as part of our itinerary.”

I matched his conspiratorial grin, but caught his grimace when he put weight on his foot. “Dad, are you in a lot of pain? Do you want me to get a wheelchair for you? It might make it easier to get to the car. It's a pretty long walk to baggage claim.”

He shook his head. “I don't want to be babied. I'm not going to let this get me down. Lead the way.” He clomped along faster, but couldn't quite hide the look of discomfort in his eyes. Yep. He was just as stubborn as me and I knew he'd tough it out even if he was in screaming agony.

I caught my mother's glance of resignation and gave my brother a wink. Nothing much had changed. At least that's what I thought at that moment.

By the time we reached the baggage claim area, my dad's face was brick red and beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. I didn't want to hurt his pride, but insisted that he sit down and rest while I went to get the Jeep and drive it to the closest exit. It kind of worried me that he didn't protest too much and I experienced a twinge of guilt knowing he'd just flown 3000 miles to see me when he probably should have stayed at home to recuperate. My heart also ached a little to notice that both my parents seemed to have suddenly aged. The lines on my mother's oval face appeared deeper, my dad's red hair looked thinner and a touch more faded than I remembered.

I pulled the car keys from my purse and turned to leave when my brother stepped to my side. “Wait up. I'll go with you.”

“What?” My mother slid him a withering glare. “You're going to leave me here to handle all this luggage by myself? That's so typical of your selfish, irresponsible behavior.”

His lips hardened and I could tell he was stifling a rude retort. “I'll be back to get it. Just lay off me for a few minutes, will you?”

Whoa. What the hell was going on between these two? Puzzled, my gaze flitted between them until my mother turned her back to him. “Let's go.” Sean's tone was clipped.

I hesitated in the ensuing silence. Neither of them offered an explanation for their ultra-touchy exchange. I was tempted to demand an explanation right then and there, but decided against escalating the argument inside the terminal. “I'll be back in a few minutes,” I said, unable to miss the look of weary forbearance shadowing my dad's face.

As we weaved our way through the throngs of travelers crowding the terminal, Sean was furiously texting someone on his phone. “Everything okay?” I asked after he jammed the phone into his jeans pocket.

A simultaneous scowl and shrug. “Not really. My girlfriend's turned into a real bitch.”

I frowned. “You mean Robin? I heard she's really sweet.”

“Used to be. But, I'm tired of her bullshit and I'm gonna dump her when I get back home.”

His pronouncement puzzled me. According to my mother, the young woman was pleasant, attractive and serious about her college career. I waited a few seconds to see if he'd elaborate, but he didn't. “Oh. Well, I'm sorry to hear that.”

“I'm not.”

He fell silent and several minutes passed before I caught his eye. “Let me guess. It's not so much that you wanted to visit with me as you wanted to get away from Mom, right?”

His faint smile looked a tad sheepish. “That obvious, huh?”

“Yeah.” I said nothing else until we reached the elevators. I punched the button and then turned to meet my brother's hazel eyes. “So, do you want to tell me what's going on between you two? You could have cut the tension with a really dull butter knife.”

He looked away for a few seconds and then stared at the floor, fidgeting. “Oh, you know how she is. Always on my ass about something.”

“Something? Like what?” Considering their hostile behavior towards one another, his vague answer didn't fly with me.

The elevator chimed its arrival and when several other people crowded in with us, our conversation ended. Everyone rode in the usual strained elevator silence, but when we stepped into the parking garage, I put a restraining hand on his arm. “Sean, level with me. What's going on?”

He hesitated for extended seconds, his gaze guarded. “Okay, well…I guess I messed up a little.”

“What do you mean, ‘messed up a little'?”

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I kind of got busted last week for selling pot to an undercover cop. No biggie.” A defensive grin accompanied his protracted shrug.

“No biggie?” I gawked at him. “What the hell were you thinking? You should know better than to pull a stupid stunt like that!”

A dramatic eye roll. “Oh, man! You sound just like Mom and Dad. I know what you're thinking. Here he goes again. Sean is always a disappointment, such a loser. It really pisses me off to hear them constantly comparing me to you and Pat.” His voice dripped with resentment. “Patrick's got a great-paying job, Patrick's got a big, honkin' house, Patrick's married with two perfect kids, look how smart, ambitious and successful Kendall is, blah, blah, blah. Why can't you be more like them? Why can't you make something of yourself? I'm sick of hearing it!”

I drew back, stunned by his bitter sarcasm. “Sean, you're twenty-five years old, not sixteen. You do understand what you did was wrong?” When he didn't answer, I continued with, “Last time I checked, dealing drugs was against the law, so don't try to lay this off on me and Pat.” I wanted to add that he should also be ashamed of himself for what had to be hugely embarrassing to our parents. I was quite familiar with how lightning-quick news travels in small towns.

He scrunched his face unattractively. “Well, it's a dumb law. And I don't need a third lecture from you. Just chill out, okay?”

“Chill out? Seriously? You knowingly commit a felony and I'm supposed to be fine with it? Well, I'm not.” I struggled to control my rising temper. “Frankly, I'm surprised at you. Have you forgotten all the misery Aunt Alyce caused the family?” I asked, referring to my mother's younger sister. “Have you forgotten the devastating results of her constant drinking and pill popping? Her marriage breaking up, all of her trips in and out of rehab? How screwed up our cousins are now because of her? I haven't forgotten the trail of carnage she left behind and vowed I'd never be like her.”

“Well, aren't you a Miss Goody-Two-Shoes.”