Deadly Sanctuary (21 page)

For a tense moment, neither of us spoke. Then, with accusation tinging his voice, he said, “You don’t listen very well, do you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You think I haven’t heard all about your cutesy evening with Heisler? You had no business seeing him.”

I stiffened. After witnessing his sensitive side, watching him resurrect his ‘macho, superior, ordering the poor dumb female about’ routine, really ticked me off. “Well excuse me. I didn’t realize I had to clear my social engagements with you.”

Tally slapped his hat against his thigh. “The guy’s a lizard in a suit. I told you, he can’t be trusted.”

“What are you? My keeper? Since when do I have to get permission from you before I go out with someone? For your information, I’ll see whomever I choose, and furthermore…”

Tally crossed to my desk with such swiftness, the rest of the sentence hung in my throat.

“Goddamn it to hell, Kendall!” His breathing was ragged. Rage and frustration flashed in his eyes. “I thought…I thought that we…never mind.”

My anger dimmed slightly at the anxious note in his voice, and I tried to keep my voice calm. “Tally, if you’ll just give me a minute and quit having a total cow, I’ll explain. Now, can we talk quietly about this?” He didn’t answer, so I continued. “Listen, I honestly meant to tell you Saturday but…it didn’t seem like the right time to bring it up.”

His eyes were hard pinpoints of black steel. “That was him on the phone just now, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. So?”

“You can’t see him on Friday night.”

I rose to my full height. We were almost eyeball to eyeball. “The last thing on earth I want to do is hurt your feelings, but Eric did me a big favor, so I owe him one. I’m going to see him on Friday whether you like it or not.”

“You can’t.”

I gave him an incredulous look. “What gives you the right to stand there and tell me what I can and can’t do?”

“For some strange reason I thought you were a person who kept your word.”

“I am.”

“Really? You already promised to see me on Friday.”

“I did not!”

“Yes, you did.”

“When?”

“Last Saturday.”

That stopped me cold. I blinked in confusion and closed my eyes momentarily. “What am I not understanding here?”

“So, it was that unimportant to you.”

I threw up my hands. “What? What on earth are you talking about?”

“The annual barbecue at the Starfire. You said you’d come.”

“That’s Saturday, isn’t it?”

“No. It’s Friday.”

I felt like two cents waiting on change. How could I have double booked myself? “Oh…Tally. I thought it was Saturday.” I flipped the pages of the calendar on my desk. “See. I have it right here.” It seemed a feeble excuse. “What time is the barbecue?”

“Seven o’clock.”

“Until when?”

“Midnight.” His voice was as cold as his eyes.

“Well, can’t I come by after dinner?”

“You’ll miss the start of the hayride at eight-thirty. I sort of had in mind that we’d, that you and I would…” Abruptly, he stopped speaking and stood there shaking his head with disgust.

“Look,” I said, attempting to lighten the mood. “I admit I screwed up. It happens. Can’t you give a little on this? I can’t imagine we’ll be much later than ten. How about I come then?”

“Don’t bother.”

The phone on Tally’s desk rang repeatedly but neither of us moved. We were still silently squared off like two stubborn tomcats when Ginger appeared in the doorway. “Well, for pity’s sake, will one of y’all pick up the danged phone?” She blinked in surprise as Tally abruptly broke the spell and strode toward his desk. He whipped up the phone, turning his back to me.

Ginger hurried over to me. “What’s going on?

I shook my head sadly and whispered, “It’s nothing. A slight disagreement.” Her searching gaze told me she didn’t believe that for a second, but, thankfully, she didn’t pursue it. Squeezing my hand she said softly, “I’ll talk to you later.”

After she left the room I wanted to go to him, apologize for my stupidity, tell him how sorry I was, but the obstinate set of his shoulders rebuffed any advance.

Tuesday morning I awoke late, immediately aware of an odd sensation. My skin was clammy and each breath was an effort. Why an asthma attack now?

A quick glance around the room showed nothing out of order. The strong morning sun slanted through the arcadia door, and outside, the birds were making their usual racket. The evaporative cooler on the roof hummed and rattled, but the air in the room didn’t feel as cool as it should. In fact, it lay heavy and close.

After a dose of medication, I got dressed, and called Ginger to tell her I wouldn’t be in until after my appointment at the shelter. I ate a leisurely breakfast, feeling no urge to hurry, since it was barely past nine. There should be plenty of time to stop by the sheriff’s office and check the log.

As I stepped out the front door I was startled by the unreal scene before me. So that’s why the air felt so oppressive. Directly north, enormous thunderheads curled over the distant mountains like foaming white waves. After weeks of empty, blue sky, their sudden appearance changed the landscape dramatically. It looked as though someone had come overnight and painted them on the horizon.

Rain couldn’t come any too soon for me. But, as I climbed into my car, I remembered that the rainy season did not usually begin until July, still three weeks away. Perhaps the “monsoon” would start early this year.

The car made a deep groaning sound when I turned the key. Uh-oh. After a few more tries, the engine finally caught. Relieved, I made a mental note to take it in for service.

I was so busy gawking at the phenomenon of clouds and was so accustomed to there never being much traffic on Lost Canyon, that I pulled out of Weeping Bird directly into the path of an oncoming car. I screamed and slammed on the brakes. My car fishtailed wildly and slid sideways off the road into the sandy shoulder. Finally stopped and gasping for breath, I watched in amazement as Dr. Price from Serenity House accelerated his Mercedes and flashed past, leaving me in a plume of choking dust. “You idiot!” I shouted at the retreating car.

When I tried to maneuver onto the road, the back tires whirled uselessly in the loose sand. After a half a dozen failed tries, I thumped the steering wheel as tears of frustration stung my eyes. “Oh, no. Not now!” Of all the days for this to happen. I had only an hour and a half until my appointment.

It would take only minutes to get back to the house. For a split second, I toyed with the idea of calling Tally. Could he pull me out with his truck? Then, just as quickly, I dismissed the thought. After yesterday’s confrontation, I wouldn’t have asked him for help if he’d been the last man on earth.

I scrambled out of the car, locked it, and soon discovered the futility of running on the rutted dirt road in heels. At this rate I’d break an ankle. I slowed my pace. The scalding sun beat down on the top of my now throbbing head, and a cluster of tiny gnats buzzed irritatingly around my nose and mouth.

My shoes were full of sharp little stones when I finally reached the house, sweat-drenched and perturbed. There were only two towing services in town, and I was told the wait would be at least forty-five minutes.

Still bummed about Dr. Price’s irresponsible departure from the accident scene, I looked up the number for Serenity House and punched the numbers on the phone.

“Hello,” said a soothing feminine voice, “you have reached Serenity House. Staff is occupied at this time. Please leave your name and number and we will return your call as soon as possible.”

How weird. I’d never heard of a hospital with a recorded message. I hesitated for a second and then left my name and work number.

Estimating the arrival of my tow, I donned running shoes, and then heels in hand, walked back toward the car. The searing wind tumbled my hair and churned up impressive columns of yellowish dust. I had to dive inside my car to avoid one of the whirling dust devils that whooshed past.

Rescue finally arrived in the form of a dented white truck bearing the name, Bud’s Towing Service. Large black letters on the front of the hood announced: HELP’S A COMIN’.

I waited impatiently as a heavy-set man in a checkered shirt eased himself slowly out of the truck. Touching the bill of his smudged ball cap, he said, “How do, young lady. You need towin’?”

“Yes, and boy am I glad to see you.”

He grinned good naturedly. “Most people generally are.”

After we exchanged introductions, Bud Stovely remarked appreciatively that I had ‘right purty red hair,’ and asked me how I liked ‘reportin’ for the paper.’ It seemed everyone in town knew who I was, so we chatted for a few minutes in a friendly manner. Whistling slightly offkey, he clanked and rattled the chain while attaching the hook to my car. I asked him if he’d had any trouble finding me.

“Nope. Knew right where you were.” He shifted a wad of chewing tobacco with his tongue. “Before I bought out my brother’s towing business, I used to drive one of them linen trucks out here to the loony bin every week.”

“Really? What’s it like inside that place?”

He turned his head and expertly ejected a stream of brown spit, then dragged his shirt sleeve across his mouth. “I don’t know. They don’t let you inside. I’d pick up the dirty things, and leave the clean stuff right there at the guard station. Some of them wetbacks would come pick it up.”

I raised a brow at his derogatory remark, but he seemed not to notice. “Are most of the people employed there Hispanic?”

“Mostly. Them people will work for practically nothing and end up sending most of it back home to Mexico.” He paused and reached inside the cab to turn the key, adding, “You couldn’t pay me enough to work in a place like that.” He went around behind my car, and then came back shaking his head. “How’d you manage to get yourself in such a fix, little lady?”

I told him the circumstances of the accident and he clicked his tongue sympathetically. “I don’t see the doc in town too often, but when I do, he’s always driving like a house afire. I’ve seen him more than once down there at the Rattlesnake and he was always half in the bag.”

His remark reminded me of the night I’d tried to talk to Dr. Price at the fund-raiser. He’d obviously been totally plowed, and his behavior fit the alcoholic personality. Maybe he’d been coming home from a bender this morning and that’s why he hadn’t stopped. It didn’t excuse what he’d done, and the implication was ironic. An alcoholic psychiatrist spent his days treating the mentally ill?

Bud’s voice broke into my thoughts. “Ruben, he’s the fellow who tends bar, says the doc’s been so out of it a couple of times, he’s had to call the sheriff to drive him back out here.”

Well, wasn’t that interesting? I started to ask him another question but conversation was drowned out by the roar of the winch. Gratefully, I watched my Volvo pulled from the deep sand. When the engine noise stopped, I asked, “Tell me something. Where do the people live who work at the hospital? I hardly ever see any traffic along this road.”

“I guess some of them live on the grounds. A couple of times a weeks they switch shifts. Somebody in one of them white vans drives them into town.”

“Yeah, I see those vans all the time.”

Bud unhooked the chain and gave me a wry smile. “Most of them stick to their own kind. They got their own little community down there south of the tracks. The driver drops them off and then picks up supplies at one of those warehouses catawampus to the auto parts store.”

I smiled to myself. Bud was an absolute treasure trove of information, but, not only was I running out of time, I felt like I was about to melt into my shoes.

“There you go, little lady,” he said, slowly wiping his hands on a filthy cloth. “I guess that’ll about do it for you.” He pulled a clip board from the truck and scribbled out the bill.

While I rummaged in my purse for the checkbook, my mind sorted through a myriad of facts. I remembered the odd feeling I’d had on my first visit to Serenity House; the sight of that sinister fence, and the fright I’d felt when the dogs had rushed at me.

“I don’t guess Tess Delgado ever had any trouble,” Bud said, “but I’d watch yourself if I was you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, accepting the bill he handed me.

“I don’t think I’d feel none too safe living so close to a nut house. Did you hear about that maniac who got loose a few years back?”

I told him I had but he proceeded to repeat the story anyway. By the number of gruesome, preposterous details he relayed, I suspected that the story had been embellished by the townsfolk far beyond the original event.

“I appreciate your concern, but, so far, I’ve had more problems with gigantic insects than I have with mental patients.”

He laughed and said, “I know what you mean. I never did run into any trouble that whole time. Hell, I never worried as much about the loonies as I did them damn vicious dogs they got roaming all over the place.”

A glance at my watch told me I had to end the conversation. I thanked him warmly while handing him a check. He waited till I started the engine and we waved good-bye to each other as I drove off. Thank goodness he’d come. I heaved a sigh of relief and noted with satisfaction that, barring any more problems, I’d reach my appointment right on time.

Heading toward town, I thought about what Bud had said about never getting inside Serenity House. What about relatives of the patients? How did they get in? There was something very, very odd about Dr. Price and I intended to find out why he’d left me there in the dust.

The weather wasn’t the only thing different that day. To my surprise, Claudia Phillips greeted me at the door of the shelter wearing a friendly smile that completely transformed her normally forbidding face. She chatted pleasantly for a few minutes about the humid weather, my outfit, which certainly wasn’t anything spectacular, and the continuing Gold Dust Day events.