What We Found (7 page)

I looked around wildly, but I didn’t see anyone within a hundred feet. What had made that sound? I looked up. Nothing. I glanced back over my shoulder.

A fresh ding marred the stucco wall, about a foot from my head. And then I spotted the golf ball shining white against the green grass beside the bench.

I pressed a hand to my chest. That had been close. I knew it wasn’t entirely safe to linger near a golf course, but this spot wasn’t in the danger zone, or they wouldn’t have put a bench there. Still, it was astonishing how far off track some shots went. And a golf ball to the head could do serious damage, even kill.

I pushed myself up off the bench and scanned the course for the golfer responsible. He should have yelled, “Fore!” He should be hurrying to apologize. What kind of bozo doesn’t even apologize after nearly braining someone with a golf ball?

I saw three men walking toward a distant tee. But they must have just finished putting, and anyway, they wouldn’t have been shooting in this direction. A golf cart was crossing the fairway a couple hundred yards distant, but they were heading in the wrong direction as well. Maybe they were fleeing, embarrassed by their close call.

I looked back at the mark in the wall. It was a deep, round hole. That golf ball hadn’t hit at a glancing blow from down the fairway. It had hit almost straight on.

I looked across the fairway. The ball had come from the direction of the woods. No one was over there. No one that I could see.

My legs threatened to give out. But I didn’t sit again. I turned and ran for the lodge.

I paused just inside the door to catch my breath and let my eyes adjust to the dimmer light. Had that really happened? Was it an accident, random chance … or something worse? A threat. An attack.

I shook my head. This couldn’t be happening. How had my life turned into this?

I pressed a hand to my forehead, imagining a golf ball flying at my face. Should I tell the police about this? Or would it sound paranoid, or pathetic, as if I was making up stories to prove I wasn’t involved?

I needed time to think. But I must have already used up a good chunk of my half hour. I hadn’t even eaten, and despite my anxiety the ache in my belly told me if I didn’t get food soon, the trembling and waves of lightheadedness would only get worse.

I hurried toward my office. If I could just get a few minutes to eat my granola bar and settle my nerves, I might make it through the afternoon.

My office was already occupied. But not by the police.

A man was seated behind my desk, shuffling through my papers. I blinked a couple of times before recognizing him as the general manager, one of several people who had interviewed me for the job. I stood with one hand on the door jamb, staring. What now?

He looked up. “Miss Needham, there you are. I’ve been waiting for you.”

I couldn’t think of a response. Even a greeting seemed beyond my powers.

He leaned back in my chair. “This is painful for me. I understand that you have been starting rumors about my son.”

His son? Oh. Jay. Right, this was Mr. Preppard.

I shook my head. “I haven’t said anything about your son.”

“You’re new here. Maybe you don’t know how we do things. We try to be discreet.”

“But—”

“Finding that thing so close to resort property is bad enough. Bad for business.” He made a face. “The police asking questions. Our name associated with a murder. It’s distasteful. But I suppose it can’t be helped.”

“It’s not like I—”

“But I won’t have you involving my son.”

“I didn’t… he… that is….” Finally he seemed inclined to let me finish a sentence, and I couldn’t get one out.

He stood and came around the desk. He didn’t look much like Jay. More like an aging businessman with a potbelly and thinning hair. But like Jay, he stood too close. He smelled of stale grease and cigarettes. “Your job is on the line, Miss Needham. What you do outside of work is your business. But don’t involve the resort, or my son.”

I could only stare as he brushed past me. I staggered the last few feet to my desk. Sitting in the chair where that man had just been made my skin crawl, but I didn’t trust myself to stay upright without help.

I sat staring at the door. Had my boss’s boss really just threatened me? Shut up or lose your job? Maybe Jay and his father had a lot more in common than appearances would lead one to believe.

A sharp pain cramped my stomach. One thing at a time. I needed food.

The bag of pork rinds sat on my desk, open and half empty. No wonder Mr. Preppard had a potbelly. I picked up the bag with two fingers and dropped it in the trash.

Fortunately he hadn’t touched the granola bar. I washed it down with the half cup of cold coffee left over from that morning.

My stomach still grumbled, but my nerves slowly settled. I leaned back and debated the next step. I was in a lot of trouble, no matter what I did. If I told the truth, the police might not believe me, especially if Jay refused to back my story. I’d have at least two enemies at the resort, Jay and his father. Assuming I managed to keep my job, they could make my life difficult.

Despite what I’d told Jay, I knew my life wasn’t so bad that it couldn’t get a lot worse. This was the only place in town I wanted to work, the only place that paid well and had a good chance for advancement. If I lost my job among nasty rumors, I’d have trouble getting
any
job in town. For myself, I wouldn’t mind moving away. But I didn’t want to abandon Ricky.

If I told the truth, I could lose my job. If I didn’t, the police might uncover the truth anyway, and I might face criminal charges. Either choice could ruin my life. I had to make the choice I could live with.

Someone rapped on my open door. I looked up and the tall police officer smiled. “Ms. Needham, are you ready for us?”

I guess there comes a time in every life where you have to make a choice, to back down or take a stand. I straightened my back. “I’m ready.”

And I told them everything.

By the time they left, I felt like a crepe paper streamer that got dragged around on the bottom of someone’s shoe at the end of a wedding. They had seemed to believe me, though the officer scolded me about how important it was for them to know everything, in order to investigate properly. Well, now they knew everything I knew. We’d gone over it at least three times. I forced myself to explain, as clearly as I could remember, exactly what Jay had said. No more protecting him. I mentioned the golf ball, but I didn’t make too big a deal of it. The tall officer said they’d take a look around the bench, but I doubted anything would come of it.

I leaned back, eyes closed, until Eslinda and Nascha bustled into my office. I managed to lift my head and tried to focus.

Eslinda hurried forward. “Are you all right?”

I blinked at her, trying to make sense of the question.

She leaned down and gave me a quick hug. “You poor girl! You’ve had an awful couple of days, haven’t you?” As always, she smelled of cucumbers and mint. Since I’d never seen her eat either of those things, I assumed she used some kind of lotion or shampoo with the scent. I found it oddly comforting.

I rubbed my hands over my face, worrying only vaguely that I was smearing the makeup I’d taken such pains to apply that morning. “It hasn’t been great.”

“Yesterday must have been terrible,” Eslinda said. “And to have to go through it all over again today!” She pressed a hand to her large chest. “I tell you, I got nervous talking to the police, and I didn’t have anything to do with it. Oh! I didn’t mean that you had anything to do with it, except by the most unfortunate accident.”

I looked from her to Nascha, who hadn’t yet spoken, but who gave me a sympathetic smile. I pushed myself a little straighter in my chair and took a deep breath. “That’s not entirely true.” I met Eslinda’s gaze. “I did something really stupid yesterday. I lied to you.”

Her lips twitched. “Oh, honey, if that’s the worst thing that happened yesterday, we could all be grateful.” She leaned against my desk. I felt as if I should give up my chair but couldn’t bring myself to rise.

“I think I’d better explain.” I glanced at the door, and Nascha moved to close it.

My story should have been polished to a fine sheen after my time with the police, but I was so tired I’m not sure I made much sense. Still, they listened with occasional murmurs of sympathy and sounds of shock at Jay’s behavior.

“I should have called the police right away,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

Eslinda rubbed my arm. “That was pretty foolish. But I can understand. You certainly aren’t the first girl who’s been talked into something stupid by a man, and Jay put you in an awful position.”

“It may be even worse now. His father threatened to fire me if I involved Jay, and I just told the police everything.”

Eslinda drew herself up like an offended quail. “How dare he! You’re my employee, not his. I’m the only one who can fire you.”

That didn’t exactly put me at ease.

She pushed away from the desk. “I’m going to give him a piece of my mind. Don’t you worry about Lewis Preppard.” She stormed to the door but turned back with a motherly smile. “You should get out of here. Nascha, go buy Audra a drink or something.”

“You heard the boss,” Nascha said. “You want a drink?”

“But it’s only…” I glanced at the clock. Huh, after four. How time flies when the day sucks. And realistically, I wouldn’t get any work done in the next hour. I hauled myself out of the chair. “If I drink alcohol, I’ll be asleep in five minutes. But I’ll give you—” I almost said “my right arm,” but that brought back the memory of the one-handed man. “—anything for an ice cream sundae.”

“Even better, since I don’t drink, but I do eat ice cream.”

She drove. I gazed idly out the window as we passed slowly down Center Street looking for parking. A man stepped out of the hardware store. I recognized him even before I checked for his missing hand. When I glanced at his face, our eyes met and held for a long moment as we drove past. A shiver slid down my spine.

“Nascha, do you know who that was?”

She began to back into a space by a meter. “Who?”

I resisted the urge to turn around in my seat. “The man who just came out of the hardware store.”

She craned to look in the rearview mirror. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“He was in the woods yesterday. After the police got there.” I shrugged. “It’s probably nothing.”

She gazed at me. “But you think he’s connected.”

“I’d just like to know who he is. I saw him in the parking lot and his truck was making a strange sound.” I shook my head. “Not the truck itself, something inside it.”

She checked the rearview mirror again. “He’s still looking this way. Okay, now he’s turning away. Was it a blue truck?”

“Yes.” This time I couldn’t resist twisting around. The man was opening his truck’s door. He tossed a small bag inside and closed the door, then crossed the street. Nascha and I watched him until he was hidden by parked cars, then we looked at each other.

“You heard something strange in his truck?”

I nodded. “In the back. Kind of like screaming, but inhuman somehow.”

She frowned. “Let’s take a look.”

We got out of the car. I was glad to be on the sidewalk side, better hidden from the one-handed man. Nascha joined me and we strolled the short distance to the blue truck, acting casual.

We glanced around. No one seemed to be paying much attention to us. I stepped behind the truck and shaded my eyes to peer through the tinted window. Nascha did the same.

It took a moment for the shapes to make sense. Cages. Two wire cages, a couple of feet in each direction. They were empty. Behind them some darker lumps appeared to be tote bags and a toolbox.

We stepped back and stared at each other. Nascha said, “He must keep animals of some kind.”

“But what? That wasn’t a dog I heard. A cat?” I hesitated and shook my head. I’d heard cats yowl, but I didn’t think that was the sound from yesterday. Besides, why would anyone be carrying cats around in cages in the back of his truck?

“Rabbits?” Nascha said.

“Rabbits don’t sound like that! I didn’t think they even made noise.”

“They can scream when attacked.” She looked back at the truck window, her face troubled. “If he had rabbits and some other animal threatening them…. But why?” She shook her head. “I grew up in Santa Fe. I’m a city girl. This is not my area of expertise.”

She glanced down the street toward her car. “Oh, I forgot to put money in the meter, and they’re checking! I’m not usually here this early in the day.” She hurried back to her car.

I took one last look in the back window. Those cages were not big enough for a person. Definitely not. Whatever they were used for, they were not used to transport screaming women into the woods. But instead of solving a mystery, I’d increased the questions.

I stepped back, studying the dried mud splattered halfway up the sides. The truck obviously went off road in all kinds of weather. I wondered if you could look up license plates online or if you had to have official access to some database. I memorized the number just in case.

I stepped back onto the sidewalk. Someone spoke from beside the truck. “Hello.”

My gaze swung to the one-handed man. I jerked back in shock and stumbled off the curb. I almost fell out into the street, barely catching myself on the bumper of his truck and the hood of the car behind.

I held myself there, gasping. He stepped around the truck. “Are you all right?”

I pushed myself up. The hot metal of the truck hurt my hand, but I wasn’t sure of my ability to stand without help at that moment so I held on. At least he didn’t offer to help. If he’d gotten close enough to touch me I would have leapt into the street without a thought for traffic.

I scrambled for some excuse for my presence. The only reason I wasn’t babbling was that I was breathing too hard to speak.

The man gazed at me solemnly. “You found Bethany.”