Hard Target (13 page)

Inside the single-roomed hut, she was hit with the smell of boiled potatoes. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she saw an old table pushed against the peeling and chipped wall to her left. Across the hard-packed floor was a sagging, but neatly made bed. Above it hung a small crucifix. A battered Coleman stove and several odd dishes, all clean, sat on a nearby table. A suitcase of clothing lay open on a chair beside the bed and in the center stood a small Inca-styled clay oven.

Outside, suddenly, the heavy rain thrummed down on the corrugated tin roof, driven hard by a sudden high wind. The downpour had started. Tay put his gun back into the holster. "See if you can find anything that could tell us what Cabanelos might have eaten or drank."

Dawna flicked the safety back on her Browning and walked over to the counter. Two pots were upside down in the crude sink whose drain led through the wall to the outside. A small wooden bowl held compost scraps, confirming that Cabanelos had eaten fresh potatoes, bananas and quinoa. An ancient green Thermos sat open and Dawna sniffed it. It, too, was clean. "Everything here has been washed. I'll give one thing to Cabanelos. He might have lived in poverty, but he was clean and organized."

She turned around. Tay was using a pen to lift up the clothes in the suitcase. "And smart, too. There doesn't seem to be anything to tie him to the embassy."

Dawna eyed Tay. "So, how do you know he was poisoned?"

Tay had to admire her. She knew exactly what he been trying not to say. "Just a hunch. Besides, I know what a heart attack looks like."

"Why?"

"My father had one, the only time I ever visited him after my parents divorced."

Her expression clouded momentarily. "I'm sorry. Did he die?"

"No. Nothing as minor as a heart attack would kill that prick."

His words stabbed at the air between them. He'd never before said that word out loud when referring to his old man, but he'd thought it plenty of times. Still, the expletive spewed out of his mouth, as cold and harsh as the rain that pounded the meager hut's clay roof.

Dawna said nothing about the obscenity. "How long have they been divorced?"

"Since I was ten. Nathan didn't spend much time with me after that."

"Nathan?"

"The old man. I couldn't call him anything but Nathan after he left. He didn't seem like my father, anymore."

Dawna walked across the dim room and with him, peered down at the suitcase. "Sorry. Where is he now?"

"In Montreal somewhere. I can't remember the name of the nursing home. He decided to move into the place after his heart attack."

"When did you see him last?"

Tay glanced over at her, pushing the bitterness away. It was bad enough that he regretted all the crap that had been heaped on Dawna because of his stupidity. He didn't want to add to it the bitterness his father had caused.

Yet, standing there, listening to the endless cadence of the downpour outside, he understood something else.

Only a part of him regretted his stupidity of that night in his staff car. The other part knew the memory of his aborted lovemaking had kept him alive these past three years.

A swell of raw hunger filled him.

What was he doing, thinking of that at a time like this? A man lay dying in a church down the road, and they were checking his home for evidence it may be murder. This was hardly the time to think of Dawna as anything more than the good police officer that she was.

He stepped away from her.

Abruptly, a small scrape sounded by the door. Dawna grabbed Tay and they pressed themselves against the wall behind the opening door. As she lifted her weapon, Tay fought the urge to shove her behind him.

No. She'd been trained for things like this, he told himself. And was damn good at it. They'd fight whoever was at this door together.

Chapter Seven

A small head poked in as soon as the door opened, a knitted wool cap proving that the rain had turned to wet snow. The young boy peered around the room, his basic, tattered sweater soaked.

Quickly, Dawna pointed her weapon to the ceiling. Tay did likewise. The boy jumped when he spotted them. Tay scanned the outside behind the boy, but the child was alone.

"
Señora
Atkinson?" the boy asked Dawna.

"
Si
."

Tay suppressed a smile. Dawna was probably older than the boy's mother, hence the married title.

"
Señor
Cabanelos dead. Doctor come. Road gone." He repeated his stilted words. Then as quickly as the boy appeared, he disappeared.

Tay grabbed the door and peered out. Through the driving rain, he spotted the boy race past the armored car and melt into the downpour.

Despite the wet cold, anxiety burned through him. The road was gone? Did the boy mean washed out? So quickly?

He crushed the useless urge to chase after the child. No doubt he was merely repeating some words the priest had drilled into him.

Rain slashed at him when the wind picked up suddenly. Realizing he was getting soaked, he quickly shut the door.

Behind him, Dawna sighed. "We should call the ambassador. He'll be worried."

"You call. I'll pull the car up closer. No point in us both getting wet."

Dawna nodded and dug the keys out of her pocket. Their fingers touched. Despite the circumstances, he found he liked working with Dawna. Sure, she'd taken a risk back there in the village square, but she had a compassion that every cop needed. A way of seeing the human side of the situation. And a natural intuition worth admiring.

When she pulled back her hand a bit quicker than he did, he felt his admiration stretch and snap back at him like a fat rubber band. He glanced up at her, finding her expression wary before she moved her own gaze around, anywhere but at him.

Trust me, Dawna
.

Hell, why should she? He'd been given the authority to pull her off her assignment, even going so far as to say that, then pulling back, claiming it was a lie.

Hadn't he treated her badly enough? He'd taken that authority because he didn't want it to fall on someone else who would use it far more arbitrarily.
Crap, he'd come here to see her, but also to ensure the embassy's security wasn't compromised. That should be his first priority, but she was damn good at her job and he should be giving her the chance-

"I'll be right back," he muttered.

Tay sprinted the short distance to the car, thankful that the cold, violent storm doused him. He was a bastard for even considering hurting Dawna again by pulling her from her assignment here.

Boy, he had to get them out of there, he thought, doing a fast security check of the car. Back to the city as fast as possible. Back to the embassy, where safety was cut and dried and easy to manage.

When he returned, he found her on her cell phone giving the ambassador a brief report. Then she paused, looking grim. A moment later, she hung up.

"The ambassador hadn't called the
policia
, yet."

"But?" Tay lifted his eyebrows, waiting for the bad news he knew was coming.

"But Marconi told him the back roads up here are dangerous when they're wet. They wash out easily. He's suggesting we wait here until tomorrow."

Stay the night here
? "Before we leave?"

"It might not be the ideal solution, but it's the safest, I'd say. I don't like it any more than you-"

"What about the doctor? How will he get back?"

Startled, Dawna peered at him. "I imagine he'll spend the night at the church."

"I'll go and check."

"Damn it, Tay, stay put until the rain eases. No one's going anywhere in this storm, so you don't need to, either."

"The road can't be washed out this easily. Let's go."

He threw open the small, short door. He could see through the sheets of rain that splattered in at them the back bumper of the car. It was no lightweight vehicle, weighing about seven thousand pounds. A short cloud burst wouldn't drive it off the road.

Dawna grabbed his arm before he could flee. "Let's at least stay here 'til the rain eases."

Tay felt the heat from her hand penetrate deep into his wet. If he turned, he knew he would be only inches from her lips. He'd kiss her then, whether she wanted to be kissed or not. He'd ignore any protests simply to sate a desire that had burned inside of him for so long, he was sure it would never be quenched.

He would not turn.

He steeled himself. "We're leaving. Now, before the roads do wash out. We'll report to the
policia
as soon as we get back, and they can send the coroner out to get Cabanelos."

Then he plunged himself into the torrential rain.

Gritting her teeth, Dawna thrust herself into the storm, refusing to abandon Tay. Like it or not, he was her partner right now, and regardless of whatever demons dogged him, they needed each other. Yes, it was unnerving enough to know that Cabanelos had not survived the night, and she certainly didn't care to spend the next few hours trapped in the dead man's tiny house.  

Trapped. Was that what Tay felt? It was almost as if panic fed his decision to leave, which was strange. He was a police officer. He wouldn't panic.

So why this behavior?

She slammed the door behind her. The cold, wet snow hit her face. Maybe it was a good thing she had no one to rely on. It made it easier to rely on herself. And she'd done just fine all her life.

She scrambled into the car and hauled the passenger door shut with both hands. Tay had already cranked up the heat. The wipers beat furiously across the windshield, but did little to clear their vision.

"You're insane, Hastings. Absolutely insane. What was wrong with staying the night there, or at least until the rain let up?"

"I'm afraid of ghosts."

"Bull. You ran away. That's all."

"Yeah, that's it." Tay set his mouth into a thin line and gunned the engine. The car turned around.

Dawna buckled her seat belt. "And you don't have a license to drive in this country."

"Throw me in jail when we get back to the city."

She ignored his last comment. "And I guess we needn't bother checking the car out, either."