Unlock the Truth (32 page)

“Dena, drop the gun,” Zeke yelled.

She saw sheer terror on his face and lowered the rifle.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Rocky asked, looking down at the splintered floorboards.

Zeke moved toward her and took the rifle. “How did you get here?”

“José,” she said, still recoiling from the sound of her shot. “He’s tied up out the back of the house.”

Sirens blared, and headlights played over the cracked and dirty windows of the old house. She saw a pool of blood near Rocky’s leg and pulled in a quick breath. She’d never shot at a real live person before. She gripped herself tight, and then tried to shake off the horror of what she’d done. Rocky’s pants’ leg was rolled up and blood ran down his leg.
Damn.
She thought she’d missed. She’d meant to miss, at least the first time.

It’s okay. It’s okay.

This could be the man who raped and strangled Carli and Susie. And maybe he’d tried to kill her, and burned down Isabella’s beautiful casita. She looked around; something wasn’t right.

Zeke sat down next to Rocky, who moaned and gripped his leg. He wasn’t fighting back.

Zeke stood. “You got more ammo?”

Dena nodded. Handed him a box and stared at Rocky.

“I’m going out the back way. I’ll take José. I need a head start on the cops. Stay with Rocky. Help him. I’m going after Cyril.”

“I’ll come too,” Rocky said. “I told you I could—”

“Cyril?”
Help Rocky? What the hell was he talking about?

She turned to say something to Zeke, but he was gone. There was a squeal of brakes and headlights from the black and white lit up the entire room through the uncovered windows. She could see now that Rocky had some kind of blood-soaked bandage on his leg and his face was ashen and pained. When had he put that bandage on?

“Come out with your hands up,” Stanton said, and his voice boomed in the still of the night. She heard his footsteps on the verandah.

She ran to the door, raised her hands. “Hurry,” she yelled. “There’s still a rifle somewhere inside. I shot Rocky in the leg.”

“Shit,” Stanton said, and drew out his handgun.

Deputy Ortiz was already with weapon in hand. She slid in and around the main door.

Stanton shoved past Dena. “Stay here.”

“Drop your weapons,” Ortiz said, from somewhere inside.

Dena stood on the verandah until Manny hurried up the steps toward her. They cautiously followed the cops into the house.

“Where’s Zeke?” Stanton asked. “Did he shoot you?” He glared down at Rocky, who was stretched out on the floor.

“I shot him,” Dena said. “But it’s all over now, and—”

“No, you didn’t.” Rocky laughed. He sat up. Winced and grabbed at his leg above the knee. “It was Cyril. You aimed but missed.”

Dena stared at him. Had he gone mad? What was he talking about? Then she remembered he had a bandage on his leg. Thank goodness. She hadn’t shot him after all. Damn it, she needed to sit down. Both officers still had their guns drawn. Rocky’s rifle lay on the hearthstone of the old fireplace. She quickly appraised the scene. What had happened here?

“Where the hell is Zeke?” Stanton asked, again.

Dena remembered then, he’d said something about Cyril and getting a head start on the cops. About to speak up, Rocky cut in.

“Cyril is the man you want. Zeke’s gone after him.”

Stanton wavered a little. Then he pointed the gun back at Rocky. “Shut up, all of you. Everything you say can—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rocky rolled onto his side on the floor. He moaned then grinned at Dena. “It’s just a knick.”

“Ortiz, get on the radio. Call an ambulance,” Stanton said. “And get back-up for the Johnston place.”

Dena swallowed hard. She wanted to be there to help Zeke. She looked from Rocky’s pale face to Manny’s wide eyes. Thank goodness Zeke had trusted his intuition and had stood by his old friend.

“Dave,” she said. “I mean, um, Deputy Stanton. We’re closer than any support vehicles. We can be there in ten minutes. It’ll take everyone else a half hour, at the least. Shove us all in the back of the squad car and let’s go right out there now, handcuff us if you need to. But seriously, Zeke could be in real trouble.”

Rocky eased up a bit. “Good plan, Dena. Come on, Dave. I’ll tell you everything in the car. We’re wasting time.”

Stanton took in a huge breath, blew it out and helped Rocky up. “I could lose my job over this. What do you say Ortiz?”

“I say they’re spot on.”

“Good. Let’s go.” Dena took Rocky’s other arm and they helped him outside. She tried to smile at Stanton. “Remember Dave, we’re doing this for Susie, and Carli. For Zeke.”

“You three, in the back,” Stanton said. “And be quiet. I’ll do the talking. Ortiz, you drive, no sirens, and redirect the ambulance to Cyril’s place.”

The cop car peeled out of the back road, dust flying. It swerved back onto Zeke’s private drive and headed for the entrance to West Coast Citrus. Dena hung onto the door handle and moved with the car’s turns. Ortiz knew her way around a cop car that’s for sure. She and Manny sat on either side of Rocky, in the back seat, and tried to protect him from the bumps and sways of the vehicle.

Stanton turned in the passenger seat and stared at them, his gun still drawn. He read Rocky his rights. “Let’s hear what you’ve got to say.”

“I was suspicious so I started to investigate,” Rocky said, his voice strained. “I can understand what you thought of me, Dena. I was trying to be nasty, so you’d leave and get out of danger.”

Oh, dear
. She’d been so, so wrong. But at least she’d gotten the Cyril thing down. She’d known he was involved in some way.

“On with your story,” Stanton said.

“I’ve been camping out at the old place,” Rocky said. “I saw Cyril ride over to the hacienda tonight. He was dressed all in black and moving slowly. His actions were suspicious.”

Stanton lowered his gun. “Go on.”

“I’d taken Susie Q. back to the ranch house with me. By the time I got her saddled and followed, he was returning to the mountain trail. He carried something, but I couldn’t see what. I knew he’d seen me, so I returned here and loaded the rifle.

“He rode up toward the house and I walked outside. I was thinking he’d have some slick answer for what he was doing. I stood on the front verandah. He stayed on his horse. He shot at me several times. I screamed and went down to the boards when he hit me, played possum. You know, screamed then lay real still. He fired a few more shots and took off.”

“What did you do then?”

“My extra ammo was in the house. I dragged myself inside, tried to staunch the blood flow. I had to get upstairs for some kind of bandage. Anyway, I reloaded and went looking for Susie Q. She’d bolted. Then I smelled smoke and heard sirens.

“I heard a horse approaching. I thought Cyril had come back to finish me off. I went back inside the tower and fired a few times. When I didn’t hear anything else, or see anyone, I dragged myself downstairs. Turned out it was Zeke.”

“Any idea what Cyril was carrying?” Stanton asked.

“With the fire and all, it could have been a fuel container, gasoline, starter fuel.” Rocky shrugged. “It was about that size.”

Dena felt ill. At least she hadn’t killed Rocky, and Rocky hadn’t killed Zeke. She’d be forever thankful for that.

****

Zeke eased José along the mountain trail. In the distance, Cyril’s home was in complete darkness. He doubted the man had even gone back there. Surely he would have taken off, because he wouldn’t go back home after attempting two murders and take a nap? Or would he?

A cop car careened into Cyril’s driveway. Off in the distance he heard the low wail of other emergency vehicles.

Zeke felt the trail dip as he rounded a bend in the rocks. A weight dropped onto his back, and a metal container hit the side of his head. He smelled gasoline. Every ounce of air left his body in a giant whoosh. He fell forward against the horse’s neck. José’s footing slipped. He struggled to keep him on the trail, away from the side where the fall dropped off to the left, and tried to fight off whoever straddled him.

He jabbed the butt of the rifle into flesh and heard an oath. Something dropped to the rock, and clattered as he pushed his attacker off of him. Good, that had sounded like a knife, maybe his attacker was now weaponless. He felt the horse begin to go down on his front legs, and he slid off his back.

“Go,” he yelled, and the horse took off toward Cyril’s place.

Hands grasped at Zeke’s throat from behind, and fingers dug into his windpipe. He felt dizzy and blackness threatened. At least his attacker had no weapon. He held tight to the rifle, and with every last ounce of energy, back-kicked the guy in the crotch.

****

Stanton rang Cyril’s doorbell while Ortiz pounded on it. Dena shook her head. They were so damn polite. She watched as Stanton raised his gun, and indicated they should each take a separate route around the house to the rear. As they took off, she opened the back passenger door of the black and white.

“Shut it,” Rocky said. “We’re sitting ducks.”

Dena climbed out, closed the door to extinguish the light, but leaned against the car.

“Get in, Dena,” Manny said. “It isn’t safe.”

“You could get in cross-fire,” Rocky said.

Dena turned at the sound of a horse’s hooves. “José.” He trotted up to her, and she soothed him with her voice and stroked his nose.

“Dena, get the hell in here,” Rocky yelled, and struggled with the door.

Manny yelled something, but she gave the guys only a quick glance and jumped into the saddle. “Zeke, we have to find Zeke.” She turned the horse around, and headed toward Cyril’s side of the trail, fearing the worst.

Manny was out of the cop car and screaming after her. But no way would she stop. She glanced back as Ortiz and Stanton ran around from the rear of the ranch house and an ambulance and two Sheriff’s vehicles roared up the drive.

Dena nudged José into a canter. There was no time to waste giving explanations. “Zeke, we must find Zeke,” she whispered, over and over again.

They steadily rode up the trail, the most treacherous part would come up soon. She’d ridden it in the daytime, but not at night, and even in the daylight it had scared the heck out of her. Fear gripped her, but she refused to give in to it. She breathed as deeply and calmly as possible, which wasn’t very deep at all. Rounding the bend she saw the two men on the ground, grappling with a rifle. At least Zeke was still alive.
Thank you, thank you, Lord.

“Drop the rifle, or I’ll shoot,” she said loudly, although she had no weapon of any description. She patted José’s neck and slid to the ground and crouched. She picked up and palmed a smooth rock.

“Dena, no!” Zeke yelled. “Go back.”

Cyril laughed, a weird hollow sound, and took advantage of the moment to wrestle the rifle from Zeke’s hands.

“Damn it, Cyril, what—”

“Shut up,” Cyril said. “Okay girlie, over here.” He sounded short of breath but waved her forward, shoved the rifle against Zeke’s chest. “Sit, Cabrera, or I’ll blow you to smithereens in front of the girlfriend.”

Dena approached, pretending to lead the horse behind her with one hand, but that hand gripped the small smooth rock. With enough effort behind it, it could startle if not do damage. José followed behind her, his breath coming in snorts.

“Who else knows you’re out here?” Cyril asked.

“The cops are at your house,” she said. “Rocky lived. They know everything. You might as well give yourself up.”

“Shut up. Sit beside your boyfriend. You can die together.” He laughed again. “Just like the women. You both think you’re so damn smart. You never knew I was getting it on with your mother. And you.” He stared hard at Dena. “So stupid you didn’t even figure I’d set up Rocky to take the fall. Bunch of dumb city slickers.”

Cyril moved a little closer. The man was a maniac. His hair was wild and eyes so wide the whites gleamed. She had every belief he would pull that trigger.

“Why’d you do it, Cyril?” Zeke asked coldly.

“What? Fuck your mother?”

Dena heard Zeke’s intake of air. “Don’t let him rile you,” she whispered.

“I always wanted both places. Man can’t ever have too much land. The bitch cheated me out of what was rightfully mine.”

“How?” Dena asked, still gripping the rock.

“Said I was in the will.”

“And you believed she’d leave you the farm even though you were blackmailing her?” Zeke said. “Talk about a dumb fuck.”

Cyril moved closer to him, the gun waving.

Dena looked at Zeke, widened her eyes and tilted her head toward the knife that lay a few feet away from him. If she sat at the furthest end of the rock, she’d be close enough to reach for it. Maybe.

She released the reins, slapped José on the rump. “Home,” she said, and he trotted down the trail. She knew the last thing Zeke would want was José caught in the middle of gunfire on a narrow trail.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said, and sat two feet away from him.

“I said shut the fuck up,” Cyril said.

“I love you, Dena.” Zeke slid closer, kissed her cheek. He pushed her a little further along the rock. “I love you so much. I’m such an idiot. Can you ever forgive me for what I said, and for how I—”

“Of course,” she said.

“Will you two shut the hell up?”

In the distance she heard the slam of car doors, and voices were carried on the still night air. Cyril raised his head; he’d heard them too. He kept the rifle trained on the two of them, but looked back down the trail quickly a couple of times.

Dena waited until he turned again, and slipped Zeke the stone. “Now,” she said.

He hurled the round smooth stone at Cyril’s head, and Dena slid off the rock and snatched up the knife. Cyril let out a cry and grabbed at his head, the rifle wavered in his other hand. Dena moved behind him and held the knife poised at his throat. Zeke moved to the front and grabbed for the rifle.

“Move and I’ll plunge this knife into you…you murderous bastard,” Dena said. She stepped closer, and held the tip of the knife blade to Cyril’s neck. Her voice was cold and her hand didn’t shake.