Lady Moonlight (13 page)

❧

Early Saturday afternoon, Dane slammed his front door and dropped his suitcase. He walked directly to a small table and poked a button on his answering machine. His phenomenal run of luck with the telephone had ended abruptly three days ago. It had been that long since he had talked to Kara.

Her husky voice riveted his attention to the machine. "Hi, Dane. It's Wednesday afternoon and I just wanted to let you know I'll be away on business for a few days."

"And why the hell couldn't you have told me about it the last time we talked so I wouldn't worry for seventy-two hours straight?" His mutter overrode her voice, and he had to replay the rest of the message.

Her voice was dry as she said, "To answer the question you're undoubtedly asking, I didn't say anything last night when we talked because I didn't know about it. I'll call you when I get back. Bye."

He shut off the machine, turned on the air conditioning and headed for the shower. Eyes closed, he stood letting the cool water stream over his head and down his heated body. She had to be the most aggravating woman in the world. He had crammed five days work into three and gone without sleep for the last twenty-four hours, all because he couldn't get her on the telephone.

He lathered his hair with shampoo and rubbed briskly. If that wasn't bad enough, he'd heard about Thursday morning's earthquake and had visions of her body beneath broken beams and rubble. He hadn't relaxed until he'd heard that the epicenter was sixty miles south of Tijuana. The San Diego area had felt the impact, but there was minimal damage north of the border.

He froze, staring at the shower head, then swore as shampoo stung his eyes. Tijuana? She wouldn't have gone down there without him. Would she? Hell, yes!

Had she done anything besides complicate his life since the moment they met? If disaster and chaos were to be found, would she be anywhere but right in the middle of it?

A minute later, a large towel tied around his lean hips, water still running down his back, Dane was back at the answering machine. His expression was grim as he played back Kara's message and waited for the next one.

Tillie's voice, rigid with control, was almost unrecognizable. "Dane? Please come and see me as soon as you can. Kara needs you."

❧

Twenty minutes later he sprinted up the front steps of the frame house. Tillie opened the door and stepped into his arms. After a moment a shuddering sigh escaped her, and she raised her head from his chest. "It's not as bad as I thought." Her smile was strained, but his knees weakened with relief at the sight of it.

He closed the door, following her into the living room.

"I called you Wednesday evening," she said.

"The night before the quake?"

Tillie nodded.

"She's down there." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes. She's hurt."

Dane paled beneath his tan. His lips were stiff as he asked, "How bad?"

"I don't know. I never know for sure. I only see bits and pieces." Her eyes were shadowed. "There was blood on her face and the back of her head."

Dane jerked as if she had hit him. He sat down next to her and took her small hand in his. Clearing his throat, he urged, "Go on."

She blinked away tears and sternly controlled her voice. "I didn't know if she was alive or dead."

Dane looked down at Tillie and marveled at her resilience. She had aged in the short time he had been away. And no wonder, he thought, accepting for the first time without question the burden that she carried. He would have turned gray overnight if he'd lived with such a nightmare.

"But you know now." Again it was a statement.

"Yes." Her clear eyes evaded his. "Walter told me that she's better."

Dane raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it softly. If she needed Walter, she could have Walter.

And without any questions or comments from Dane.

God only knew what sort of a support team he'd need if he were in her shoes.

"Well," he said, "I suppose I better go pick her up."

She brightened and rose, leading him toward the door. "Yes, dear, I think you should."

He looked down and realized that he had the doorknob in his hand. Had had it there since he walked in. Shrugging, he dropped it in the beribboned basket and leaned down to kiss Tillie good-bye.

"Oh! I almost forgot. Walter said there was something you should know."

"What's that?" Dane asked tolerantly.

"It doesn't sound like him at all," she dithered.

"What did he say?"

"He was very specific. I was to tell you that today, Saturday, Kara was going to be in hot water."

"Hot water?" Dane repeated blankly.

Tillie nodded. "That's what he said."

"'Well, that's nothing new," he commented, starting out the door. She's always in .." He stopped as if he had run into a wall. "Hot water?"

Tillie nodded again, alarmed at the changing expression on Dane's face.

"She wouldn't do it," he stated with grim certainty.

"Do what?" Tillie asked in apprehension.

"Yes, she would," he snarled. "Tillie, so help me God, if that niece of yours is alive when I find her, I'm going to murder her!" He looked down at her puzzled expression. "Aqua Caliente means hot water. She's at that damned racetrack today!"

He turned without another word.

"Dane?" Tillie called tentatively after him.

"What?" He bit off the word.

"I wasn't going to say anything about this, because Walter has been acting peculiar lately ..."

He turned, towering over her. "What?" he asked, too gently.

"It sounds so . . well, so biblical," she said apologetically. "He said that a child would lead you."

He repeated blankly, "A child will ..."

" ... lead you." She nodded.

He swore softly, inventively and with great feeling.

"Tillie, I'm going to find her, drag her back by her silvery hair and ..."

"Marry her?" she asked hopefully.

"If I don't throttle her first." He glanced at his watch. "The races started an hour ago, God only knows what she's been up to in that time."

"You'll take care of her," Tillie said with satisfaction.

"You can count on that. I can hardly wait to get my hands on her," he said with grim anticipation as he loped to the truck.

❧

Thirty minutes later, the truck pulled into the huge parking lot. The eight children obediently clustered in a shady spot and promised not to move. Kara and

Juanito paid for their tickets, walked up stairs shaded by a green-and-white canopy and entered the massive stone building. They bought a program, found seats in the grandstand and plotted their strategy.

"Let's make bigger bets this time," Kara suggested after taking a hasty peek at the program. She had wondered if a crack on the skull would negate her peculiar skill, but apparently it hadn't. The names still leaped out at her like neon lights.

She jabbed Juanito with her elbow. "Will you stop that? You're making me nervous, peering over your shoulder as if you expect the devil himself to appear."

"I think he is already here," he muttered. "See? To our right, four rows behind us?"

Kara turned casually, gazing in the direction he had indicated. Every seat was full. "Who am I looking for?" she whispered.

"The dark one, with the mustache."

She darted a quick glance at him to see if he was kidding. He wasn't. She wondered if it would be tactless to inform him that all the men looked dark to her. And that those who weren't bearded all seemed to have mustaches. She was pondering this bit of international courtesy when he spoke again.

"He was one of those who chased you that day."

"What!" She spun to face him, automatically adjusting her wig. "Are you sure?"

He nodded.

She frowned in concentration. It was one thing to convince her friends that the pursuing men would never recognize her . It was a horse of another color to be four rows away from one of them in a wig that tilted and slid at the slightest provocation.

"We'd better separate," Kara said decisively. "One lone giant is less conspicuous than a giant with a midget. Our friend just might happen to remember you. And that bit of success might spur him on to recall that the midget you were with last time was blonde. Let's use our divide and conquer routine and hope it's more successful this time."

She circled the names of the winning horses and handed the program to Juanito. "You take this and stay by the cashier's window, somewhere near the center. Don't come back. If you bet all the winnings of each race on the next one, you should have plenty of money by the fourth or fifth race."

She shushed him as he began to protest. "Just listen for a minute. Once you're gone, I'll blend in with the rest of the crowd. No one will pay any attention to me. I'll meet you by the window after the fifth race. If we have enough, we'll leave. Okay?"

He nodded reluctantly and rose.

It was a perfect plan, and it should have worked. It would have worked, Kara maintained later, if it hadn't been for the two men behind her. No, to be fair, it really began with the wig. It was hot and uncomfortable. So much so that she loosened some of the pins and surreptitiously slid a finger under it in an effort to scratch her sweaty scalp. Her head began to throb, and she thought longingly of a cool drink and a nap. Only two races to go, thank God.

The men behind her had devised a game to relieve the tedium between races. It consisted of whacking each other and any hapless bystander-with rolled newspapers. That, combined with the heat and the noise of the crowd, was almost more than Kara could bear.

At the end of the fourth race she stood and stretched. The men behind her had resumed their jousting and whacking. Then things happened so quickly that only later could Kara recall the sequence of events. First, a tug on her wig. One of the men had lunged and tangled his paper weapon with a long strand of her dark hair. Then two yelps, one of pain from her, one of surprise from the man, as her wig was whipped from her head and sailed through the air like a large, hairy spider. There was a scream of pure terror as it landed in a woman's lap, then a roar of surprised laughter.

A breeze cooled Kara's overheated scalp. Her first comfortable moment of the afternoon was spoiled when her eyes met those of a man four rows up and to her right. A gold tooth glittered as he smiled in triumph.

When the fifth race began Kara quietly edged out of her seat and walked down the stairs. Before she reached the bottom she was encircled by men, all equally dark and mustachioed.

She heard a roar from the crowd and knew the race was almost over. Looking down, she saw Juanito turn to the cashier's window.

"This way, senorita," a quiet voice said, urging her toward the exit. Her protest went unvoiced when something sharp touched the small of her back.

Her circle of abductors herded her down the stairs and outside into the hot afternoon air. It was absolutely the last straw, Kara thought wretchedly. Her headache had escalated from a dull throb to lancing pains. The only thing in the world she wanted was a hard bed and a soft pillow. Instead, she had a knife in her back and a handful of hairy men.

The men seemed to be arguing about something, but Kara spied the waiting children and her attention was focused on them. They glanced up, caught sight of her and left the shade of the tree. They stopped, looked for Juanito and turned back to Kara in confusion when they couldn't find him. She shook her head; willing them to stay away.

Ruben, the oldest, spoke rapidly to the others.

They separated and formed a loose semicircle around Kara and the men. The men paid no attention to the ragtag group of children.

Elena positioned herself as close to Kara as she could. Kara asked a man in a blue, sweat-stained T-shirt, "Where are you taking me?" The men ignored her, but their argument grew loud and vehement. The children listened and looked at each other.

Elena tossed a stone to Benito and called, "What do you think we should do now?"

Kara closed her eyes in relief. Bless those little streetwise kids! They were clearly waiting for instructions. Trying to ignore her pounding head, she thought. Finally she turned to a man in a green, sweat-stained T-shirt and said distinctly, "Wherever you take me, my friends will follow. They will find the big man I was with, and he will come and get me."

The men ignored her, as usual, but she noticed that, after a conference with Elena, Miguel and his little brother, Luis, disappeared.

Feeling a bit like the pied piper, Kara, still surrounded by men and followed by children, was hustled out to the parking lot. She was led to an ancient, rickety truck with fully bald tires. At the thought of enduring a ride in the decrepit, probably springless wreck, Kara discovered within herself a wellspring of defiance.

She dug in her heels and said, "No!"

The men stopped in surprise and repeated, "No?"

"No!"

Just as the men looked prepared to lift her bodily and toss her into the cab, Kara heard the sound of a familiar motor. Juanito's truck, with Ruben at the wheel, bore down on them. Ruben, Kara recalled, had an affinity with all things mechanical. He had even managed to teach her to hot wire a car.

Her captors froze in horror as Ruben apparently lost control of the large vehicle. As one man, they shouted "No!"

That was the last word Kara understood for some time. Juanito's runaway truck came to a stop by skidding into the other one and locking bumpers. The men jumped out of the way, pulling Kara with them.

Then they exploded into sound; apparently shouting five varieties of the same thing. It took a long time for them to adequately express their feelings.

Ruben looked contrite and willing to be helpful. He remained behind the wheel, ready to follow orders.

Kara remained with a man in a bright red shirt while Green, Blue, Gold Tooth and Sombrero jumped on the bumper of their truck to lower the front end.

When they were satisfied they shouted vigorous instructions and motioned for Ruben to back up. He nodded, shifted gears with hideous grating sound and bolted forward.

The men flew upward in wildly balletic leaps, then plummeted to the ground. Kara winced at the thuds and the expressive comments that followed. Ruben shrugged apologetically and pointed to the steering column. He was commanded to leave Juanito's truck and mount the bumper of the other one. He was joined by Blue, Gold Tooth and Sombrero, while Green replaced him behind the wheel.

The three men bent, then straightened their knees, shifting their weight. Kara was reminded fleetingly of a folk-dance step, but it soon became apparent that they knew what they were doing. The nose of the truck lowered, then rose, with their shifting weight.

When it dipped low enough Juanito's truck could be put in reverse.

Ruben finally seemed to understand the process, but had a lamentable lack of rhythm. He bobbed up as they bent down, then reversed the procedure. The three men glowered and grumbled, and finally one of them pushed him to the ground.

Kara watched as the children milled around, always moving, looking as if they were involved in a game.

Elena caught Benito's elbow, gesturing to a nearby tree. She boosted him up until he could reach the lowest limb. He disappeared behind the dusty leaves, and all Kara could see was the agitated jiggle of a red balloon. He soon emerged, handed the balloon down to Elena and jumped to the ground.

With a grinding sound from the bumpers, a roar of Juanito's motor and a screech of tires, the trucks were separated. The children shouted and surrounded the vehicles. As a festive note, Elena tied the red balloon to the antenna of the antique truck.

Kara was sandwiched between Sombrero and Red Shirt in the cab. The remaining three vaulted into the bed of the truck. She craned her neck as they pulled out of the parking lot. Ruben was busily deploying the troops. He gestured for Alberto to remain behind and urged Benito, Carmen, Maria, Oscar and Elena into the truck. He jumped behind the wheel and slowly followed the bobbing balloon.