Deadly Sanctuary (37 page)

My mouth went dry. “What do you mean?”

He looked smug as he picked up his revolver and aimed it at me. “Very simple. You’re going to act as my shield. If anyone tries to stop me, I’ll kill you.”

“It won’t work.”

“Of course it will,” he said, his voice brimming with superiority. “Mexico is less than an hour from here by air. Turn around,” he growled, shoving me against the wall. He dug his knee painfully into the small of my back, wrenched my arms behind me, whipped off his necktie and bound my wrists. “There,” he grunted, pulling the knot tight, “you may think you’re smarter than I am, but you’re not. Move!”

Eric’s wild mood swings terrified me. Woodenly, I moved down the stairs. He stayed close behind. The rain had stopped and the air felt warm and clammy. The sky to the north looked ominously dark. When we reached his Mercedes, he shoved me in the driver’s side and roughly pushed me to the passenger seat. Then, he climbed in, still pointing the gun at me. I wondered why. Did he expect me to grab the gun with my teeth?

He backed out and then jerked to a halt as Charles ran up and banged on his window. Eric’s jaw muscles worked furiously. “Goddamned pervert,” he whispered under his breath, pushing the button to lower the window a few inches.

“Hey, Eric, don’t worry,” Charles panted, “we’re going to find her. She has to be here…” His words died as he stared dumbfounded at me, then looked anxiously at Eric. “Does Rochelle know you have her? Where are you going?”

“I have my own plans for Ms. O’Dell, Charles. Rochelle knows all about it.”

“I thought we agreed to take care of the problem here.”

“Why don’t you run upstairs and talk to her. She’ll explain things to you.”

“So, everything goes on just as always?”

“Yes.”

I had the notion, by the whiteness of Eric’s knuckles as he clutched the steering wheel, that if the gun hadn’t been pointed at me, he’d have shot Charles with no qualms.

He ran the window back up, terminating the conversation. Charles backed away from the car, looking uncertain, and then bolted for the main building.

Eric saluted the guard, and once the gates and snarling dogs were behind us, I felt a slight sense of relief. Perhaps I could convince him to set me free.

I couldn’t believe the transformation of Lost Canyon Road. There must have been an extraordinary amount of rain to cause the wide crevices and deep puddles. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than Eric slammed on the brakes. In front of us, the normally dry wash was running like a river. I stared, fascinated, at the churning water and sensed his hesitation as he read the DO NOT CROSS WHEN FLOODED sign. “We can make it,” he stated firmly. “I’ve done it before.”

My heart skipped. “Eric! Don’t be crazy. You’ll drown us both!”

Ignoring me, he lowered both front windows, and then arched over me to study the water level. “I just crossed this a few hours ago. It isn’t that high.”

“It looks too dangerous.” He gave me a disdainful look. “I’ve lived in Arizona all my life. I know what I’m doing.” He eased the car into the swollen wash. Stiff with fright, I watched the water climb, and then a movement ahead caught my attention. Was that a car coming this way?

I tucked my knees under me and sprang for the open window, screaming, “Help! Help me!”

Eric reached out, hooked his fingers into my belt, and dragged me back beside him. He grabbed a handful of my hair and twisted it painfully. “Sit still.”

I struggled against him and then our movements froze as we both became aware of the strange noise at the same time. It sounded like the roar of a freight train.

The look of puzzlement in Eric’s eyes switched to horror. I turned and saw a wall of water at least three feet high, headed right for us. Eric’s screams mingled with my own as the churning brown tide struck the car.

A wave of cold water slapped me, the force of it jamming me between the dashboard and steering wheel. With my nose almost touching the windshield, I watched in horror as we rocketed down the wash. When the car ricocheted off the embankment, I was thrown painfully against the passenger door. After choking on the third mouthful of muddy water, I decided to quit screaming and concentrate on my next breath. Caught in the swirling, churning current, the car bounced and bucked liked a wild bronco.

“Eric!” I shouted. “Untie me!” He paid no attention. When the top of a jagged rock loomed ahead I screamed, “Look out!” We hit head on. The sudden stop punched the air from my lungs. Fumbling madly with my bonds, I watched with despair as Eric began to scramble out the window.

“Wait, I can’t swim like this! Help me!”

Ignoring my plea, he clawed for a hold on the rock, still half in and half out of the car when another surge of water sent us spinning away. Eric cried out and pitched forward, flailing his arms wildly. To my amazement, he ended up clinging to the hood ornament. For a brief second, our eyes met. I read death in them. His face looked almost serene as he yelled, “Tell Mother…I’m sorry.”

Then, the force of the water tore him away. In a matter of seconds, he disappeared into the rain swollen wash. “Jesus!” I screamed, struggling desperately to get loose. The car was twisting in a circle now, adding disorientation to my waking nightmare.

The water-soaked cloth around my wrists finally loosened, and I jerked my hands free as the car jolted to a stop once again, lodged on something below the surface. In fascinated horror, I stared at the swiftly running water only a few inches below the windows.

Stranded in the middle of the wash, the banks on either side probably less than fifteen feet away, I had no doubt I’d meet the same fate as Eric if I tried to make it to shore. It would be best for now to stay put and wait for help. That idea was short lived as the car settled further and water began to pour in.

There was nothing to do but climb onto the roof. I scrambled out and up, spread-eagling myself face down on the slippery surface. I clamped my fingers around the window frames and hung on, alternately praying and shouting for help. Whoever had been in that vehicle on the road must have seen what happened.

Overhead, thunder rumbled in the storm-darkened sky. “Oh, no,” I groaned. The quickening wind blew against my wet clothes, sending me into shivery spasms. When the first big drops of rain splattered on my back, I closed my eyes and waited for the worst. Thoughts of my childhood and all those I loved, played out before me.

The steady blasts of a horn jerked me to reality. I squinted through the driving rain and felt a jolt of disbelief. It didn’t seem possible, but Tally stood on the muddy embankment waving his hat and shouting something I couldn’t hear as he held up a coil of rope.

Gesturing with his hands, he began to run upstream. I was saved! A sensation of overwhelming relief swept over me. I’d never been so glad to see anyone before in my life. How had he found me? That must have been him on the road. I craned my neck in his direction and willed my stiff, aching fingers to continue their hold. He strapped on an orange lifejacket, secured the rope around a tree, tied the other end under his arms, and then waded into the water.

Forever. It seemed like forever, but suddenly, as if in a dream, he was there beside me. The rushing water brought him against the car with a resounding thump.

“Kendall! Are you all right?”

“I think so,” I gasped.

He pulled in the slack and wound the rope around the side-view mirror, anchoring him closer to me. “I’ve already radioed the sheriff’s posse for help. Whose car is this?” he shouted, uncoiling another piece of rope.

“Eric Heisler’s.”

“Heisler? Where is he?”

“Dead.”

“What happened?”

“Tally,” I panted. “It’s a terribly long story. Can we talk later? I just want to get out of here.”

“I’m working on it,” he said grimly, and then added with a glint of humor in his eyes, “you said you wanted rain. Well, you got it.”

“Very funny.”

“Here.” He extended a section of the shorter rope to me. “Can you tie this around your chest?”

The thought of cinching it tightly around my sore ribs wasn’t pleasant, but there was no choice. “I guess so.” Tentatively, I let go with one hand and grasped the cord. He reached up and grabbed my thigh, steadying me as I let go of the other side and rolled onto my back. The effort to tie the knot left me breathless. “What do we do now?”

He tied the other end of the short rope onto his knot. “You come into the water with me. The current will carry us to shore.”

I hesitated, staring at the muddy, foaming water, and then met his eyes. They reflected concern, confidence, and something else. He held out one hand to me. “Tally, you promised not to rescue me again.”

“Request permission to break my promise.”

“Permission granted.” I edged toward him, then stiffened in fright at the sight of a massive log rushing at him. “Tally! Look out!” Before he could react the log struck him from behind, smashing him into the side of the car. He fell face forward into the choppy water. Still connected together at the chest by the short rope, I felt the sharp tug against me. The longer length of rope, still attached to the tree trunk on shore, strained, and finally snapped under the weight of the tree trunk.

“Tally!” Without another thought for myself, I jumped into the raging current and pulled his head above water. His head lolled to the side, resting atop the life vest. Thank heaven for that.

But as I watched the end of the rope trail uselessly away in the torrent, it was difficult to quell the surge of hysteria. Just keep his head above water, I urged myself, taking up the slack between us. I wound the middle of the rope around the mirror and that helped hold me upright while my legs were pounded with rocks, sticks, and unknown debris sweeping by.

The storm seemed never-ending and my spirits sagged as darkness settled. Where was the back up he’d ordered? Someone had to find us soon. “Tally! Wake up. Please wake up.” All around us, extraordinary forks of magenta lightning slashed the sky, followed by deafening cracks of thunder.

I hugged his body close to mine, surprised at the depth of feeling I had for this man. The lump on the center of his forehead expanded and I ran my fingers over it, trailed them down to his cheeks, which I patted gently, then traced his lips, thinking it was an extremely odd time to want to kiss him.

“A little mouth to mouth might not be a bad idea,” he said with a weak grin, his eyes opening slowly.

“Tally! Thank God. How long have you been conscious?”

“Long enough.”

“Are you all right?”

He grimaced and let out a groan. “Except for the fact that I think my arm is broken, yeah.”

“It’s all my fault. What now?”

“We wait.”

“For what?”

“DPS will be on their way by now,” he said, squinting upward. “The worst of the storm seems to be over.”

No sooner had he spoken than we heard the unmistakable clatter of helicopter blades. The chopper swung over the nearby trees, shining its cold blue light down on us. Then it was directly overhead, the sound earsplitting, the blast of air from the blades whipping my hair across my face.

I insisted the paramedic take Tally first because of his arm. He protested, but I won out. It seemed like another hour spent in the cold water before the basket came back down for me. It was a dizzying ride up, swinging back and forth in the wind.

It felt wonderful to have the blanket wrapped around me, a steaming drink cupped in both hands. Tally didn’t make a sound as the paramedic fussed and fiddled with his arm. He kept his jaw locked, his eyes fixed on me. Despite the warmth of the blanket, my teeth continued to chatter uncontrollably.

“Is there something I can get for you, miss?” the young man asked, turning his attention to me.

I kept eye contact with Tally. “Yeah. Right now, a big plate of hot tamales sounds pretty good to me.”

A week had gone by and Castle Valley was still abuzz, rocked to the core by the revelation of Eric’s sordid “baby mill” operation—just as John Dexter had predicted.

Claudia, (I could never think of her as Rochelle) survived her gunshot wounds. After the discovery of Eric’s body the following day, she and Charles confessed their part in the scheme, and Roy was picked up by the U.S. marshall’s office. To my immense relief, Rosa had been discovered hiding in the shed where Dexter’s truck had been concealed. The door had always been locked prior to my break in, so the guards didn’t think to look there. Charles admitted he’d had orders to destroy the truck, but had let greed get the better of him. He’d planned to use it later after interest in Dexter’s disappearance had died down.

I thought about these things and others, as I hunched over Tugg’s desk proof-reading the day’s copy. He had asked me to take charge during his recuperation from surgery. Everyone at the office had gladly pitched in, and there was a lot of excitement when my first-person story was picked up by the wire service.

Amid all the praise, I had to humbly remind myself how foolish and how lucky I’d been. My injuries were mild, a couple of cracked ribs, compared to Tally’s concussion and shattered arm, which had required two surgeries. We had talked briefly two or three times on the phone, but because of my long working hours I’d only had a chance to visit him a short time at the hospital in Phoenix and even then, he’d been too groggy to talk much.

The investigation at Serenity House had unearthed more gruesome details. Not only had sheriff’s deputies discovered the body of Dexter buried in the ancient cemetery, also found were the remains of eight teenage girls. Autopsies revealed they had either died in childbirth or been shot as Dexter had. Traces of the same drug were found in each girl’s body.

Charles Sheffield acknowledged his use of Thorazine, a drug commonly used to subdue mental patients. It had kept the girls calm, yet not harmed the fetuses. Claudia had also dispensed it at the shelter to make the girls easy to handle. It made sense now why Roy had gone to such lengths to keep the toxicology reports from both Dexter and myself.