“Hi.”
Vic shook her hand and smiled. “How you doin’?”
I felt compelled to continue. “Juana’s almost got an associate’s degree in criminal justice from over in Sheridan.”
They both ignored me.
La bandita flicked her eyes at my caved-in face and then looked back at Vic. “Is he really the sheriff?”
The Italian beauty’s head dropped in silent laughter, then raised and considered me. “Yeah, and believe it or not, most of the time he acts like one.”
Juana looked at me again and then back at Vic. I felt like sonar readings were being made, but I wasn’t on the same frequency, even though I could see the pings bouncing back and forth between the two.
“If you’re going to stay, I’m going to have to charge you the double rate for the room.”
11
October 30, 9:58 A.M.
First there was pounding on the door, then Dog started barking, then my head fell off and rolled across the stained carpet and lodged itself in the corner against the chipped baseboard-at least that’s what it felt like.
I got up in my boxer shorts, appropriately enough, pulled on a T-shirt from my duffel, and stumbled over Dog toward the door. If it was Cliff Cly looking for a rematch, I was going back to my bag, pull out my. 45, and just shoot him.
I swung the door open and looked at a man with glasses and a graying beard with mustache to match who was wearing a ball cap that read COFFEEN DYNO-TUNE. The name Jim Rogers spiraled in white thread across the left chest pocket of his dark blue coveralls. “You Eric Boss?”
I stared at him. “What?” He looked at some of the other doors, and the number on mine, sure he’d made a mistake. I cleared my throat; what could it hurt? “Sure, I’m Eric Boss.”
“No, you’re not; you’re the sheriff from over in Absaroka County.” He studied my face, which still felt like it had fallen off. I glanced at the corner next to the baseboard just to make sure it hadn’t. “At least, you used to be.”
“And how do you know that?”
“I got a speeding ticket last year-it was that nasty little brunette deputy of yours nabbed me.”
The voice behind me was sharp. “You were doing seventy-three in a fifty-five.” I turned to look back at the bed I’d just vacated. “And you had no taillights.”
I turned back and looked at the mechanic, who was desperately trying to see around me. “Can I help you with something?”
He focused on me and threw a thumb over his shoulder. “Steve sent me over; I’ve got a horse trailer out here-we re-packed the wheel bearings, fixed the brakes, rewired, and put new tires on.”
I reached up and cradled my face before my cheekbone reminded me about the pain. “Right, right…” I took a deep breath and recalled having the vehicle towed into Sheridan for a makeover. I looked over him and could see they had cleaned the old trailer off, and she wasn’t looking half bad. “Uh, you can just leave it out there, Jim.”
He didn’t move.
“Is there something else?”
He nodded. “Ya gotta pay for it.”
“Oh… you bet.” I closed the door. He was still trying to see who it was that had spoken to him from the bed. It was lucky that the wind was blowing and that he seemed just a bit hard of hearing. I dug into the jeans that I had left on the chair for my wallet as Vic rolled over and luxuriously stretched, revealing a perfectly rounded breast and alert nipple. She propped herself up on an elbow and used her red-nailed hand to support her tousled head; she made no effort to cover up. I stood there, unable to move, then remembered my mission, opened the door, and handed the guy my credit card. I stepped forward and got between him and the provocative room.
I closed the door behind me as he finished writing down the numbers and totals. He handed the card back and ripped off a receipt. I took the slip of paper and looked at him. “Anything else?”
He shifted his weight and gestured with the thumb again. “Just leave it out here?”
“Yep.” I waited until he got the trailer unhitched and had climbed back in his truck before I turned and sidled into the room, closed the door, and looked at her.
She was still lying on her side with one leg pulled up ankle to calf, one hand still supporting the mussed hair; the other was lazily making circles on the flat of the sheet. More than a little of her body was still exposed, and I took that extra second to take in the swoops and swallows of her general physique.
I felt like I should carve a statue.
I tossed the transaction papers and my wallet in my open bag, stepped over Dog, and sat on the corner of the bed as she watched me with the tarnished gold, vulpine eyes. “A horse trailer?”
I nodded, and it still hurt. “It’s a mercy mission.”
“You don’t even like horses.”
“I do too-it’s just that they’re big, dangerous, and a poor form of transportation.”
She bit her lip. “Two of the three could be said about you.”
I reached out and pulled the sheet over the portion of her anatomy that was distracting me as the knocking began at the door again. “Jeez
…”
“You’re popular.”
I stepped over Dog, who didn’t even bother barking this time, and cracked the door slightly open. I expected to see the mechanic: instead, it was Benjamin who stood there. The four-foot cowboy looked over his shoulder at the trailer.
“Are you ready to go?”
I squeezed through the doorway, drawing the door closed behind me again. I could see Hershel backing Bill Nolan’s red Dodge pickup to the horse trailer. I looked at the little bandito as his eyes traveled up and down my frame from underneath his sweat-stained cowboy hat.
“I never seen anybody in their bedclothes at ten o’clock in the morning-you sick?” He studied my face a little closer. “Boy, that’s a shiner.”
I held up a finger. “Just a second, okay?”
He nodded. I turned, shut the door, and gazed at the exquisite female stretching luxuriously on the bed of the squalid motel room. I cleared my throat and felt the pain in my head increase. “After one of the best nights of my life, I think I’m about to pay for it with one of my worst days.”
October 26: four days earlier, afternoon.
She had been petting Dog, who had rested his head on the hospital bed, but she continued to ignore me.
“Mary, if you don’t tell me what happened that night, then I can’t help you.” She looked up, and her expression made me wonder why I was trying. “If I go through the report, would you at least give me an indication as to what you agree with and what you don’t?” She continued scratching the dense fur behind Dog’s ears near the furrow of his bullet scar. “I know it hurts, but Isaac says you can talk.” I slumped back against my folding chair, picked the report up from my lap, and flipped the page. “In your initial statement to the investigators in Campbell County-”
She rolled over on her side and continued scratching Dog under his chin. I watched her for a moment, then stood and patted my leg. “Dog.” The beast was by my side in an instant and followed me. I pointed toward Janine’s desk at the end of the hall. “Go.”
I backed into the room, closed the heavy door behind me, sat in the hospital chair with the report in my lap, and tipped my hat back. “No talk, no Dog.”
She looked up at me. We sat there staring at each other.
I took a deep breath, thought about Cady and another hospital bed, and relied on my last, most secret approach when confronted by female opposition-I begged. “Please help me; I can’t do this alone.”
The muscles in her face softened just a touch. She considered me, finally clearing her throat and licking her lips as if she hadn’t spoken in years. I stared at the bandages at her throat and thought about how she’d looked on the floor of the examination room just yesterday.