Desert Lost (9781615952229) by Betty Webb Page A

the crow flies.”
    â€œNo crows out tonight,” I observed, steeling myself for yet another jerk as she steered the Santa Fe through a washout. “For God’s sake, Rosella, slow down. One more bump like that and I’ll lose a filling.”
    â€œWhiner.”
    But she eased off on the gas pedal and we sat in companionable silence until we reached the camp, a ragtag collection of falling-down buildings and rusted machinery that loomed like ghosts against the night. When she turned off the Santa Fe’s running lights, I saw no car, no nervous woman, no runaway. Just the flitting shadows of bats diving at insects.
    â€œYou sure this is the place?”
    â€œIt ain’t quite seven, and I told the woman I’d get here sometime between seven and eight.”
    I have nothing against bats, but the idea of spending another hour in their company didn’t thrill me. Especially not with Prophet Shupe’s armed-to-the-teeth God Squad headquartered so close by. Plus, up here in the higher desert, the temperature was probably in the low thirties, and my vest wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping me warm. But I sat back against the seat, prepared to wait it out.
    â€œWanna stretch your legs?” Rosella smiled at me through the dark, her long wig draped around her face like a blood-red shawl. But she still looked like Rosella, as pretty as she was tough.
    â€œNo. And you shouldn’t either. You don’t know what’s out there. We need to stay in the car until they show up.”
    Ignoring my advice, Rosella opened the car door and stepped out, her breath misting white against the night. “Come on, Lena. The air’s great. Fresh. Not like that Phoenix sludge. Up here you can really smell the desert.”
    The note of sadness in her voice revealed that she sometimes missed her former life, the wide open spaces speckled with wildflowers and sage, the Vermillion Cliffs marching across the state line, the eagles, the condors. To me, all that beauty had been irrevocably stained by vicious prophets and their brainwashed followers.
    â€œGet back in the car, Rosella.”
    A low laugh, caught by the wind and carried toward the Utah border. “Nothing out here but the night. I’m walkin’ over to that shed. I used to play here with my brothers. It looks like somebody’s boarded it up, but not real good. C’mon. Come see.”
    Uncomfortable with her wandering off alone, I hopped down from the SUV, but only after patting my vest pocket to make double-certain my .38 revolver was still there. The night, although cold, was stunning. Out here, miles from any city lights, the stars blazed, and the Milky Way created a speckled white sky road. As I gazed in admiration, a meteor dove toward the horizon, then disappeared into the badlands. Would it smash into the earth near us, or was it still hundreds of thousands of miles away, fooling our eyes as it passed on the other side of the Vermillion Cliffs?
    I pulled my vest closer, not that it did much good. The wind was brisk, making the mining camp’s old boards creak and clatter. Usually this far from civilization, coyotes would be calling to one another, but not tonight. It seemed as if they themselves had declared the area off limits.
    Which was odd, because coyotes loved to sniff and paw through ruins like this, where mice and other small prey could hide. So why…?
    â€œRosella,” I whispered. “We need to get back to the car.”
    She either didn’t hear me or pretended not to, just kept walking toward the rickety shed that blocked the mine’s entrance.
    â€œRosella! Now!”
    I hurried forward and grabbed her by the arm, prepared to force her into the SUV. As I spun her around, the door to the shack exploded outwards, followed immediately by the stench of sulfur, the sound of a shotgun blast.
    Rosella pitched forward.

Chapter Six
    Men’s voices raised in triumph. More than one.