A Question Of Honor. Mary Anne Wilson

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СКАЧАТЬ off her jacket and thought about the sign for the Wolf Lake Inn. “As much or as little Peace and Quiet as you want.” She craved both the way a man lost in the desert craved water.

      The girl from the counter came over to her and smiled. “Welcome to Willie G’s. What will you be having today?” Faith ordered coffee and a hamburger with fries, then sat back as the girl took off for the kitchen. When the hamburger and stack of fries, both large enough to feed a small nation, came, she knew that she’d made a decision. She was going to find Wolf Lake Inn and stay put for a few days if it looked okay. And she could sleep, really sleep, so she could think straight. She was afraid of making a mistake and being recognized.

      She ate half of her food. Pushing aside the plate, she reached for her wallet. She needed to get going.

      “Food no good, lady?”

      The blunt question startled Faith, and she looked up to find an older man standing by the booth. He was in his middle to late sixties, with weathered skin and long white hair piled under a cook’s hairnet. Wearing a white T-shirt and white pants, both liberally stained by various foods, he frowned at her plate, his hawkish nose twitching. “No good?” he repeated as he met her gaze.

      She shook her head. “Oh, no, it was very good. It’s just so much food, enough for two or three meals.”

      He folded his arms on his chest as a smile softened his lined, angular face. “I understand. You’re a little bit of a thing. For a minute I thought old Willie G. had lost the magic touch.”

      “What I could eat was great.” She couldn’t stop a yawn. “Sorry,” she said. “I’ve been driving forever and I’m really tired.”

      “Where you heading for?”

      She hesitated, wondering if he could help. “Albuquerque, but I saw a sign for The Wolf Lake Inn when I pulled in here. Do you know it?”

      “You looking to stay there?”

      “Maybe, as long as it’s peaceful and private, and not too fancy or expensive.”

      “That about describes it,” Willie said

      “Is it very far from here?”

      “It’s about fifteen miles north, near the res.”

      “The res?”

      “Indian reservation.”

      Faith hadn’t realized until that moment that he was very much a Native American. “You’re from there?”

      He nodded. “Born and bred. Wolf Lake is a good place. Some tourist stuff, but nothing too crazy. It’s pretty quiet most times. Shoot, they got a police force of four, and their main job is giving out tickets for illegal parking to tourists who wander through. That tells you how safe it is.”

      It didn’t sound as if any of the four policemen would be looking for a financier’s daughter or even know about her. “How do I get there?”

      He gave her directions, telling her to watch out for the inn just before the general store on the main drag of the town on the north side. “It’s a two-storied adobe with a carved eagle above the entrance. It was the first hotel ever in town. Now it’s more like what do you call those places...oh, yeah, a bed-and-breakfast. Six, eight rooms, nice place.” He hesitated and then said, “For the sake of truth in advertising, I should tell you my niece runs the inn. Name’s Mallory Sanchez. You can tell her I sent you, if you want.” He smiled slyly at her. “Probably won’t help you, but who knows?”

      She answered his smile. “Thank you so much, Mr....?”

      “Name’s Willie G. Lots of Willies around, but only one Willie G. in these parts.”

      The waitress called out to him, “Got two orders, Willie.”

      He waved a hand at her but didn’t turn. “What’s your name?”

      “Faith.”

      “Safe journey, Faith,” he said, moving toward the kitchen.

      After the waitress boxed Faith’s leftover food and took the money for the bill, Faith stepped out into air that was just plain cold. Light snow was falling, gradually turning the land a pale gray-white. Faith got in her car, went back to the frontage road and headed east for two miles, then spotted the turn Willie had told her about. She drove onto the narrow two-lane road that was all but deserted in the early evening.

      As she drove, there were fewer and fewer houses and buildings. The road cut through a vast desert area, with lots of rocks and rough ground, etched in white. Shadows fell on the snow from the mesas and buttes that rose in erratic patterns.The country looked bleak.

      She clicked on her headlights and kept going. Had Willie told her the right distance to Wolf Lake? She felt as if she’d been driving for a lot more time than it took to go fifteen miles. Relief came when she caught sight of a road sign: Wolf Lake—2 Miles. She sped up, anxious to get there before the dark descended completely.

      She was so intent on her driving, she didn’t notice she wasn’t alone on the road until the jolting wail of a siren cut through the air. Flashing red and blue lights bounced around in the interior of her car. She reflexively glanced at the speedometer, actually happy to see she was speeding. Simple speeding, stupid of her to do it, but this was not about her fleeing Chicago, just her driving.

      She took a shaky breath as she pulled onto the shoulder of the road and stopped. It was okay, she told herself. She had the license her dad had given her. When she jumped at the flood of bright light from inside the police car, she admitted that no matter what logic told her, she was afraid.

      CHAPTER THREE

      JOHN MUTTERED, “Crazy people,” when the speeding car came to a full stop. “Thought we’d get this type on the weekend or closer to Christmas when the tourists come around to visit,” John grumbled. He tucked the cruiser in behind the compact car with an Illinois plate on it.

      There was a single passenger from what Adam could see, a woman grimacing at the glaring light that John had switched on. She wasn’t moving at all.

      John tipped open the onboard computer, brought it up and put in the license-plate number. A moment later, he was reading the screen. “Gerald Lewis Reich and Martha Reich, Chicago area. Looks like Martha is on her own. Car’s clean, and they’re clean. Not even a traffic ticket between them in the past five years.” He reached for the door handle. “Be right back,” he said and got out.

      The wind was picking up, swirling the snow, and John ducked his head while he gripped his cap with his free hand. He got to the driver’s window as it slowly slid down and he leaned in to speak to the driver. A hand pushed some folded papers out toward John, who took them and stood to read. Then John turned his head as if he was trying to hit his left shoulder with his chin.

      Adam knew John was in full uniform and his two-way radio was wired into the shoulder. He spoke into it, then went back to the car. He pushed the papers back to the driver, bent to say something, then jogged back to the cruiser. He slammed the door on the cold wind and snow outside. “Got a call,” he said. “It’s Amos Joe and Birdie. They’re at it again. Got to get there before someone does something stupid again.”

      He СКАЧАТЬ