Читать книгу Eagle's Last Stand - Aimee Thurlo - Страница 10

Chapter Three

Though it was only ten-thirty and way too early for lunch, with nowhere else to go at the moment, Kim decided to stop by the Desert Rose Café for a cup of tea. As she walked in, she was surprised to see Preston and Rick sitting at a table near the window.

Kim approached them slowly, wondering if she was making a mistake. Maybe Rick was bad luck. Look at everything that had happened so far, and he’d only been in town since yesterday afternoon.

She discarded the thought immediately. There was no such thing as luck. She remembered the quote by Louis Pasteur her father had hung in his office at home. “Chance favors the prepared mind.” People made their own luck.

Rick and Preston stood as she came over, and Rick gestured to the chair beside him. “What brings you by so early, Kim? If you’re hungry, I can recommend the breakfast burrito. It’s terrific. The coffee...not so much.”

She smiled. “I know. I usually order tea.”

The waitress came over and smiled. “Hey, Kim. What’ll you have?”

“How about a job, Sally? Only kidding. I just got fired,” she said, “so a cup of honey tea will do.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” the young waitress answered.

“So am I,” Rick added. “Order what you want and consider it part of my apology. I owe you that, at least.”

Kim shook her head. “Tea will be enough.” As the waitress left, she touched Rick’s arm briefly. “I appreciate the offer, but all you really did was speed up the inevitable. I’ve never liked the way Angelina treated her employees and, frankly, I only stuck around because the work fit my schedule.”

Preston spoke up. “If you need some financial help—”

She shook her head and held up a hand, interrupting him. “I’ve got skills and experience working retail, so I’ll find a new job soon. However, if you hear of a part-time position with flexible hours, let me know.”

“I’ve got to get back to work,” Preston said, removing a few dollars from his wallet and placing them on the table. “Kim, keep thinking hard about last night. Sometimes the answers don’t come all at once.”

“I will.”

As the waitress brought over her cup of tea, Kim eyed the piece of Rick’s burrito that remained but said nothing. Pride always stopped her from asking for favors or help.

“We changed our minds. How about a breakfast burrito for the lady, too,” he said.

“Be back in a jiff,” the waitress said.

Kim smiled at Rick. “You didn’t have to do that, but thanks. The aromas in here always make me hungry.”

“No problem. Now I feel a little less guilty.”

A lengthy silence ensued until Sally returned with her food and, wanting to know more about Rick, Kim decided to start the conversation. “So tell me, Rick. Are you really home for good?” she asked, taking a bite of burrito.

“Yes.”

“Are you glad to be back among family or do you miss your old job?”

“Both.”

He obviously wasn’t much for small talk. She took several more bites, enjoying the flavorful explosion of green chili. Remembering how procedural books said that people often opened up just to fill the lapse in conversation, she let the silence stretch.

It didn’t work. Rick had probably read the same book years ago.

“I appreciate that you bought me something to eat and are letting me enjoy the burrito in peace, but I get the feeling there’s something on your mind,” she said, taking the last bite. “So how can I help you?”

“I know Angelina Curley had dealings with my foster father, then one day she stopped coming around,” he said. “I don’t believe her accusations at all. Any idea what really happened between them?”

“I’ve heard pieces of the story here and there, but because they originated from Angelina I’m not sure how accurate they are,” she warned.

“Go on.”

“Hosteen Silver accepted cash and jewelry in payment for her instruction and apprenticeship, but then, according to Angelina, he made sexual advances. When she rejected him, he got angry and refused to continue her training.”

“My foster father would never have done anything like that. The woman’s lying.”

“Uncle Frank knew your foster father. I met him once at the Brickhouse, too. He didn’t strike me as that type of person, either,” she admitted. “But in my experience, Angelina isn’t above lying if it suits her. I’ve seen how she twists things around when she’s dealing with customers and vendors. She keeps things legal, but she’s completely unethical,” Kim said. “Maybe she was the one who made a pass and got shot down. She doesn’t take rejection well, I can tell you that. Or maybe she just didn’t have what it takes to be a medicine woman and needed someone to blame. Considering Angelina doesn’t remember details, I’m surprised she’s as successful in business as she is. She’ll often ask us the same question two or three times.”

“That might explain her failure as my father’s apprentice. The Sings have to be memorized perfectly and some last for days,” Rick answered. “One mistake and the gods won’t answer, or they might make things worse for a person out of anger. Getting it right shows respect.”

“It took days for her to remember the combination of the new safe.” She paused for a moment. “Angelina’s not stupid, far from it, but she’s easily distracted.”

“My foster father could be very exacting. If Angelina wasn’t measuring up, he would have told her that in no uncertain terms.”

“Angelina would have blamed him, not herself,” she answered.

“I was surprised to see her pull a gun this morning. Was that all a bluff, or is she capable of violence?” he asked.

“I don’t think she would have fired at you. She’s a bully and wanted you afraid. If you’d started pleading with her to set it down, that would have made her feel in control, and you would have made her day.”

“I get it.”

“For what it’s worth, that’s my amateur attempt at profiling. Although I’ve worked at Silver Heritage for the past ten months, she and I aren’t friends, or even friendly. I don’t even recall having a conversation with her that wasn’t business-related.”

“Fair enough,” Rick said.

Kim watched him for a moment. He knew a lot about her, but she’d yet to learn much about him. Mystery clung to Rick like dust from a hot summer’s whirlwind.

“I think my brother said something about Angelina owning another business as well as Silver Heritage,” he said.

“That’s true. She has a high-end Southwest design jewelry business across from the regional hospital. If you want, we can go over there after I finish class. The manager’s a friend of mine. Although Angelina goes over there every day just after lunch, she usually comes back to the downtown shop after an hour or so. If you let me come along, I can watch out for her.”

She checked her watch. “Right now I’ve got to walk over to campus. I’ve got class at noon.”

“Mind if I tag along? It’s a nice day to be outside.”

“Glad for the company.”

After they left the café, he fell into step beside her. It was a beautiful October day and the air was brisk but not cold. “So tell me, what makes you so determined to become a cop?”

“I want a career doing work that matters.”

He nodded. “And you think you can make a difference as a cop.”

It hadn’t been a question, but she answered him anyway. “Good people are needed to keep the bad ones in check.”

He smiled. “That’s what Hosteen Silver used to say. It’s part of the Navajo belief that says balance is necessary for happiness.”

Rick’s entire face softened when he smiled. The edginess that was so much a part of him disappeared and gave place to calmness. It even made his scar look less daunting. “You should smile more often, Rick.”

He grew serious again. “I don’t usually have many reasons to do that.”

“Then find them,” she answered with a smile of her own.

Seeing a homeless man she recognized sitting on the sidewalk against the wall of a laundry, soaking up the sunshine, she quickened her pace. “That’s Mike. I brought him leftover food every night at the end of my shift at the Brickhouse. He’s going to have to find other help now.”

As they neared, the man looked over then jumped to his feet. “Mike, don’t go. I need to talk to you,” she called out.

The homeless man stood around six feet tall, with a red beard and brown hair. He was wearing a camouflage jacket, jeans, lace-up boots and was carrying a backpack.

Mike glanced at her, then Rick. A second later he stepped off the sidewalk into the alley and disappeared.

As they reached the alley, they saw his back just for an instant before he slipped around the far corner of the building.

“Rats!” she grumbled. “The weather’s going to be turning cold pretty soon. Mike’s going to need food and shelter. We have a food pantry over on 4th Street that feeds the homeless, but they already have to turn people away. One of the churches plans to take up the slack, though, and I wanted to make sure he knew.”

“Mike is behind the Brickhouse every night?” Rick asked quickly.

“Yeah. He always sits on the steps of the furniture store’s loading dock, waiting for me to come out into the alley.”

“If he was there last night, he may have seen something important,” Rick said. “Maybe even the guy who clobbered Frank and sabotaged the gas line. We have to find him again.”

“That’s going to be tough. You saw how he can disappear in a flash,” she said. “I know I mentioned talking to him, but except for a few rare times, it was mostly a one-way conversation. My guess is that even if he saw something, he won’t talk about it.”

“He may be emotionally disturbed. Whatever the situation, I want to talk to him,” Rick said. “Even if all he does is nod or shake his head, it might be enough to give us a lead.”

“Good luck.”

* * *

SEVERAL MINUTES LATER they arrived at the small community college campus and walked up the wide sidewalk toward a large, white, concrete-and-stone building. “This is my stop.” Kim met his gaze. “If you find Mike, be kind but careful around him. Some things can’t be forced. He’s been living on the street for years now, and he’s wary of everyone.”

“It never hurts to try. Did you ever learn his last name?”

“I don’t even know what his real first name is. I’ve always admired the football player Michael Oher, particularly after seeing The Blind Side, so I asked him if I could call him Mike. He nodded.”

“All right. Let’s see what I can do.”

She checked her watch. “I’ve got to go. Class lasts an hour. Should we meet afterward and go to Turquoise Dreams, Angelina’s other shop?”

“Okay, sounds good.”

“See you later, then,” she said.

* * *

AFTER LEAVING CAMPUS, Rick headed back to the center of town, deliberately choosing the side streets and alleys along Main, watching carefully as he approached restaurants and fast-food establishments. Mike undoubtedly already knew about the explosion at the Brickhouse Tavern and would be searching for a new place to score a meal.

At first Rick had no luck, but eventually he spotted Mike standing on a wooden pallet as he searched through the big green trash bin behind Hamburger Haven.

Instead of approaching him, Rick circled the block and came up the alley, looking down at the pavement and never making eye contact. About twenty feet away, he sat on a flattened cardboard box, his back to the wall. He was wearing a turtlenecked sweater and jeans, not his usual jacket, which often served to hide a handgun at his waist. Instead he had it in his boot for emergencies, but he knew what he was dealing with here and doubted there’d be a problem. Unless cornered, with no escape possible, Mike was unlikely to turn violent. He’d run. Though Rick pretended to be looking toward the street, he could see Mike in his peripheral vision. He knew that Mike, aware of him from the moment he’d entered the alley, had been watching him.

As Mike stepped down off the pallet, Rick saw the tattoo on the man’s left forearm. It was the outline of a horse head with a diagonal line beneath it—the insignia of the Army’s First Cavalry division.

“Ooorah, soldier,” Rick said in a barely audible voice.

Mike looked at him, his gaze focusing on Rick’s scar.

“Some scars are easier to see than others,” Rick said, still avoiding direct eye contact. “You like cheeseburgers? I’m hungry. I’m going to get myself one. I’ll pick one up for you, too, if you want.”

Rick glanced at Mike and noted the vacant expression on his face. For a moment he wondered if the man was beyond the ability to answer questions.

Then it happened. A spark of intelligence lit up Mike’s face for an instant. Rick realized that what he’d seen before was the thousand-yard stare: the blank look of someone who’d seen too much suffering and death.

“Cheeseburger. And fries,” Mike said.

“Coming right up.”

Rick went inside the small fast-food place, eager to return but afraid to look as though he was in a hurry. He’d just found his first asset and, with luck, he’d also be able to help the man.

One thing he knew about was adversity. It either broke or remade you, but sometimes finding your strength again required retreating to a place so deep inside yourself, the world couldn’t reach you. He understood that. He’d done it himself.

When Rick returned to the alley, Mike was gone, but Rick could sense he was being watched. Mike was nearby, probably trying to make up his mind about him. Rick placed the sandwich bag filled with food on a cardboard box next to the wall where he’d been sitting. Mike would find it there.

“I’m after the man who nearly killed Kim, her uncle and my family,” Rick called out as clearly as possible without shouting. “You see things most of us miss, Mike. Whatever you tell me will stay between us, but I could really use your help. Whoever it is may not be through yet.”

Rick left the alley and crossed the street. As an undercover operative he’d lived engulfed by a darkness most sane people would do anything to avoid. Yet it was there, in that world of senseless violence, that the true measure of a man was often found...and sometimes lost.