Читать книгу Race to Rescue - Dana Mentink - Страница 10

The nicest hotel in Rockridge happened to be the only one in that small town. Anita tried to ignore the feelings of déjà vu that plagued her as she checked in. The room was clean, painted in soothing shades of green, and the bed was relatively comfortable. Nonetheless, Anita slept only in fits and starts, waking several times fighting off a feeling of terror. The question kept burning at her. What was Drew doing with a gun? Where had he gone, and why hadn’t he called her again? Who destroyed his apartment?

The possible answers terrified her even more than her questions. The only island of comfort was Booker, and that scared her, too. She finally dragged herself out of bed after sunup and into a hot shower before calling the rental car company. There was no way she would allow Booker to become her personal taxi service. She’d told him so in no uncertain terms. She couldn’t get close to him again. She wouldn’t allow herself to.

She sat staring at the phone. While she lingered in a cozy hotel room waiting for the rental car company to get her a replacement, what was happening to her brother? Fear drove her to the window. The sky was an iron gray, layered thick with angry clouds.

The helplessness of her situation swelled inside her until she thought she would burst. She settled for throwing her shoes at the door. They cracked into the metal with a satisfying thwack.

A soft knock followed the thwack. “Great. Now I’ve got the neighbors mad at me.”

She opened the door to find a startled Booker on the other side. He wore his customary worn jeans and T-shirt with a Windbreaker thrown over it. A Cardinals baseball cap caught the first few drops of rain.

He looked uneasy. “Something hit the door.”

She forced a calm tone. “It was nothing. The rental car company is bringing me a car sometime later today. Like I told you before, you don’t need to take me anywhere.”

He leaned his weight on one hip, crossed arms accentuating his wide chest. “Figured I’d give you my cell number in case anything came up.” Without meeting her eyes, he handed her a crumpled piece of paper. His calloused fingers touched her hand, and she felt the strength of hard work and long days.

When he looked away at the clouds that massed on the horizon, she sneaked a glance at his profile. His face was tanned as ever, chin square, hair unruly where it curled out from under his cap, just as she remembered. There was a subtle difference, she noticed; deep shadows under his eyes and an unfamiliar haggard look.

A tender feeling stole over her. Don’t get sappy, she reminded herself. You did that before, and it almost distracted you from your duty.

Booker had needed to realize that mining brought nothing but hardship, especially for the delicate creatures on his ranch. She felt a sliver of guilt that she’d hurt him in the process. With a jolt, she realized she’d been staring.

He cleared his throat. “Not my place, but don’t go looking for Drew on your own.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not a helpless female.”

His smile was bitter. “Oh, I know that all too well.”

She forced her chin up. “Thanks for your concern, but it isn’t necessary.”

He looked at her, eyes searching hers as though he was looking for something he had left.

She tried to think of something, anything, to say, but Booker turned away, mumbled a goodbye and took off in his truck.

She watched him go. A strange thought danced in her mind. If he wasn’t so stubborn, would things have turned out differently between them?

No, Anita. You two are incompatible species. You walked away at just the right time, for once, like you should have done with Jack. If only she’d had the strength to walk away from him, maybe her confidence wouldn’t be so trampled. She closed the door and headed back to the phone, redialing the number Sergeant Williams had given her for the local Department of Homeland Security, aka the Border Patrol.

Yes, they were still aware of her brother’s situation, including the break-in. Someone would call her.

Later.

Though the wall of clouds was intensifying, Anita felt if she didn’t move, her body would simply explode. She pulled on the only jacket she brought—a thin, purple nylon affair that could roll up small enough to fit in a pocket—and made sure to take her satellite phone.

The air held a tinge of humidity, the clouds seeming to press on her with a great weight. There was nothing close to the hotel, nothing but a tiny gas station with a mini-mart attached. Sucking in a determined breath, she headed through the buffeting wind.

The whisper-thin man behind the mini-mart counter shot her a curious look. His tufts of white hair gave him a clownish air. “Morning. Help you with something?”

“I’m just here for a few supplies.” Scurrying down the nearest aisle, she gathered a handful of sundries: bottled water, trail mix, a couple of apples and a box of Oreos. If she was going to be on the verge of panic for a while, the Oreos would definitely help. She lugged the supplies to the counter and pulled out her wallet.

On impulse, she showed the clerk the picture of Drew. “I’m looking for my brother. Have you seen him?”

He slid on a pair of bifocals and peered at the picture. “No, ma’am. I’m sorry to say I haven’t.”

Her heart fell. “It was a long shot. Thanks, anyway.”

He added a folding umbrella to her pile with a wink. “I think maybe you’re gonna need this. On the house.”

She thanked him and turned to go when her eyes fell on a stack of leaflets. Booker’s smiling face was printed on the top, under the words Living Desert Tours. She shoved one into her pocket and stepped into the swirling wind, her thoughts whirling around just as erratically. Opening the umbrella and avoiding the water that had puddled on the pavement, she jogged back to her hotel room.

Her upper torso was the only part that escaped being drenched. She peeled off the wet clothes, pulled on a robe and spread the paper out on a cracked table, worn and ringed by countless cups of coffee.

Looking to experience the desert in a whole new way? Call Booker Scott at Living Desert Tours. Half-day and full-day trips. Lunch included.

She read the paper twice more. Why was Booker hawking desert tours? He was a cattle rancher with his hand in the opal-mining business. How much time did the man have? And more important, why did thoughts of Booker seem to fill up her mind at every opportunity? She crumpled the paper and threw it in the garbage.

A half hour later, after a lunch of trail mix and cookies, Anita’s nerves threatened to burn right through her skin. The police had no updated information on her brother’s whereabouts.

“We’re pulling in volunteer deputies to help with the search, Ms. Teel. An officer is taking prints and pictures at your brother’s apartment. We’ll call you if we find anything at all.”

She hung up and watched the hands of the clock creep inch by painful inch. The piece of paper Booker had given her materialized in her fingers. “I can’t call him.” The very idea made her cringe. After their troubled past, how could she ask him for help? She had no right.

The thought of being in the truck with him again sent an odd shiver down her spine. It was not an altogether unpleasant sensation.

She shook the thought away and grabbed the phone. Her brother was counting on her. She could not, would not, let her pride get in the way.

He answered on the second ring, his voice low and husky. “Booker.”

“It’s Anita. Look, I’m really sorry to bother you but—”

“It’s fine.”

She took a deep breath. “I need to go to the cliffs, where Drew was headed.”

There was a long silence. “I was afraid you were gonna say that.”

Twenty minutes later, Booker suppressed a sigh as he jumped out of the truck and wrenched open the passenger side for Anita. Why was he dropping everything to run to her side? Because it was the right thing to do, to help a person in need, he told himself, like he’d done when Mrs. Whitley from church needed her cat dislodged from where it had gotten wedged behind the Sheetrock. So what if it was inconvenient and time-consuming? It was still the right thing to do. He risked a glance at her delicate profile. He’d never had these crazy feelings in his stomach while helping Mrs. Whitley, that was for sure.

Redirecting his thoughts to the foolhardy mission he’d undertaken, he eased the truck onto the main road and headed for the highway. Raindrops pattered the windshield. “Storm coming today. Not a great idea.”

“The rain has tapered off from this morning. I’m sure it will be all right. I want to get a sense of the place he was headed, that’s all.”

He shook his head. “Suit yourself.”

She twiddled with her jacket zipper. “How is your father?”

“Not great. He’s in one of those retirement villages. Wanted him to stay on the ranch, but he insisted he’d be a bother.”

“I’m sorry.”

He picked up on a warmth in her voice, remembering how her visits in the spring had cheered his father tremendously. He knew Pops would approve of his helping Anita, in spite of their history. His father would never let a woman down. He’d been there through his wife’s illness, unflinchingly devoted, even when her mind was gone and she didn’t know who any of them were. Pops was a true gentleman, Booker knew, the kind of man he could only hope to be someday. The resolve crystallized inside him. He would help her, he would find Anita’s brother because it was the godly thing to do, and then he would walk away. He tuned back into the present.

“I’ll say a prayer for him,” Anita said haltingly.

Booker nodded. “Preciate that.”

They lapsed into silence as the miles rolled by, flatland dotted with mesquite and jimsonweed. The sky had lightened to a silver hue, silhouetting the distant mountains in sharp relief. Since the rain eased off, he rolled the window down a fraction to breathe in the scent of newly washed earth.

Rounding a sharp turn, he slowed the truck.

“Why are we stopping?”

“Road dips into a canyon up ahead. With a good rain there’s the potential for flash flooding.”

“It’s not even raining that hard right now.”

He glanced at the sky. “It will.”

“Booker, we’ve got to keep going. My brother is out there somewhere.”

He ignored the desperation in her voice. “Impatience gets you dead in this place.”

“You’ve got to listen to me. I…” Her words dropped off as the rain began to sheet and then to pound with a fury. It slammed into the truck so hard it bounced off again like tiny glittering bullets. Anita cried out at a crash of thunder.

Booker shot her a brief glance. “Don’t worry. It’ll stop in a minute or two.”

The roar faded to a hum and then a trickle, the storm easing up as fast as it started.

Booker was ready to start the truck when he frowned into the rearview mirror.

An SUV pulled in behind them with Border Patrol emblazoned on the side. A stocky, dark-haired man got out and edged to the driver’s side of Booker’s truck.

“Mr. Scott, it’s Agent Rogelio. You’ve got Anita Teel with you?”

Booker called out the open window. “Yes, sir.”

The agent leaned his head in. “Paul Gershwin told me you might be coming up here looking for your brother.”

Booker and Anita got out and followed Rogelio away from the road, to the rust-colored shoulder.

“I got your message,” Rogelio continued. “I was going to call you this afternoon.”

“Any word on Drew?”

He shook his head. “Not that I’ve heard. I met your brother a few times, poking around with his camera.”

Anita’s voice cracked. “Really? When did you see him last?”

“Couple weeks ago. Headed out the same way you are.” Rogelio folded his arms across his wide chest. “I’ve got to be honest with you. I told your brother that he was an idiot.”

Booker saw Anita jerk backward a fraction at his angry tone. “That’s no way to talk to the man’s sister.”

“No disrespect intended, but my job’s intense. I go around with a target painted on my back. That’s my choice. But I don’t appreciate having to spend time and energy rescuing thrill seekers who get themselves in too deep, especially when they’ve been warned repeatedly.”

Booker cocked his head. “Drew’s doing a job, not sightseeing, and, anyway, what’s done is done. The guy’s missing, and his sister is worried. Isn’t her fault.”

Rogelio’s tone softened. “I’m just telling you that Border Patrol will assist in any way we can, when we’re not busting illegals and ducking gunfire from drug cartels. I’m going to give you the same advice I gave him. Go home.” He jerked a thumb at the road ahead. “Leave the searching up to law enforcement so we don’t have to bail you out of trouble, too.”

Rogelio got back into his SUV, pulled a sharp U-turn and peeled away.

Booker helped Anita back into the truck, feeling a slight tremble in her hand. “Not the nicest cop I ever met.”

She blinked. “Why is it everyone seems to think Drew deserves to be in trouble?”

He heard the tremor in her voice. “Not everyone. Like I said before, Drew is a good guy. I’ll help you if you want to go look for him. Rogelio’s right about one thing, though. It’s not safe.”

She was silent for a moment, examining her hands twisted together in her lap, knuckles white from the pressure. “Why would you go with me?”

He exhaled, recognizing he had just crossed a line that he couldn’t turn back from until the job was done. “Because it’s the right thing to do and if it was my brother, I’d sure drive through a war zone to find him.”

She gave him a watery smile and they continued down the road.

Booker cleared his throat. “We’ll only be able to take a quick look before sundown. We can come back tomorrow. Early.”

Her face looked vulnerable, like a little girl’s. “Thank you. I feel as though…as though I don’t have the right to ask you for anything.”

“I offered.”

She gave him a puzzled look as the satellite phone in her pocket rang, startling them both.

“It’s Sergeant Williams,” she whispered, when she checked the screen.

Anita held the phone between them so Booker could hear. “Have you found him?”

There was a pause. “Ms. Teel, I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.”