Exit Row (15 page)

A
S
R
OSA UNFASTENED
the gate lock, Fiona looked down the road again. She could not see anyone else on the street or the headlights of any cars. They had found the house by the number on its enameled tiles, but there were no business signs anywhere.

The man who came to the front door was charm itself. He was wearing a white silk shirt with billowing sleeves that emphasized his Mediterranean darkness and made his hips in black pants look even smaller. He could have been a tango dancer, but for the large wooden cross around his neck covered with tiny silver body parts: arms, legs, eyes, hearts, even a kneeling woman.
Milagros,
Fiona knew. People afflicted in those areas bought them and left them in church as prayers for relief.

She recognized the fluttering in her stomach as hope. Could this man tell her where Lee was? But psychics weren't real.

“Let's sit outside,” he suggested.

They followed him around to a small patio, its slatted top covered by vines. Torch lights illuminated the area and showed tubs of evening primrose. Since the landscape itself was so arid, any flowers seemed to be in pots where they could be watered. Fiona settled herself into a white metal chair and identified the strongest scent as gardenias. The place seemed mysterious and magical, but she was too anxious to enjoy it.

“Juice?” Paolo Recchia asked.

Fiona shook her head.

“I'd love some!” Rosa said flirtatiously, tilting her head up to look at him. Fiona remembered the piano player; at Rosa's age, was it all innocent again?

Fiona capitulated. “Oh, I'll take some too. What kind is it?”

“My own blend.”

As soon as he left, Rosa leaned over and whispered, “He seems very down to earth.”

Fiona nodded.

Paolo Recchia came back holding a tray with three cut-glass tumblers filled with an apricot-colored liquid. After setting the glasses down in front of the women, he took a sip from his own. Fiona noticed that he had put on round, rimless glasses, giving him the look of a scholar. She had no idea how old he was.

“You've come a long way to get here,” he observed.

You'll have to do better than that.

He must have read her expression, because he added, “But you're not here on vacation. You have a darker mission.”

“You can tell that?” Rosa gasped.

He laughed and waved a hand toward Fiona's forehead. “Anybody could. The lines between her eyebrows are very deep. And you were insistent about seeing me tonight.”

“That's true. But I'm insistent about everything.”

He smiled at them both. “How can I help you?”

Fiona looked to Rosa, but the older woman gestured at her to talk. “We need to find out more about something that happened last Sunday.” When she finished telling him the story, she added, “We brought a map of the area. And things belonging to the missing people.” That had been Rosa's idea. They had borrowed a New Mexico-Colorado map from her hotel and then pooled whatever personal items they could find.

“That's good.” But instead of putting out his hand to take the objects, he sat back in his chair and studied the women.

Was he waiting for them to feed him more information? Perversely, Fiona kept quiet. Then she remembered her vision of Lee in the library that first afternoon. Should she ask him about that?

Rosa was fishing around in her Guatemalan bag. “Don't you want to see?” Her voice shook a little.

“If you want,” he said gently.

She brought out an envelope and a wallet-sized photograph and laid them side by side on the glass table. The envelope was from Dimitri to Greg, with his P.O. box address in the corner. Fiona had looked inside, but Greg had taken out the letter. The photograph showed a girl with long brown hair and lush features. She had an energetic, turned-up nose and full rosy lips. Wide blue eyes. Dominick's eyes, though his were brown.

Fiona reached in her purse and extracted a small earring shaped like a shell. It was one of the pair that Lee had given her after they'd flown to Nantucket on a whim. She placed it on the table with the other object, making certain it did not roll.

Paolo picked up the earring first. It disappeared into his fist.

“My friend—the man I'm in love with—gave it to me about a month ago. I don't know if it still counts.”

He picked up the photograph and studied it, looked at the envelope. “These people are together.”

“They are?” Fiona felt as shocked as if he had reached across the table and shoved her. “But where? Or are you talking about their spirits?”

He gave a small wave to show that he did not believe in the artificial boundaries between life and death. “They may still be as you knew them.”

May.
She clung to that. “But where are they?” Her voice was a croak.

You don't believe in psychics, remember?

Rosa dug into her bag again and brought out the map. “Show us where!”

“It is not where they are. There is something larger that you must find.” He rested his elbows on the table and looked beyond Fiona. “The mountains, yes, but also sand.”

“Sand?” He must be picking up that they were from Long Island. Or maybe it was the shell-shaped earring.

“But what town is this large thing near?” Rosa cried.

“There is no town. A green sign, a signpost, but not a place. Mountains with snow and roads, but—” He slumped in his chair and looked at Fiona. “You should not go on with this. There is great danger.”

Rosa gave him a smile. “Oh, we're pretty tough.”

But Paolo would not be drawn in. “This is not a game to play. I don't mean a game, it is not just something for you to find out. It is dark, darker than you know.”

“But we have to find these people!” Fiona insisted.
Tell me where Lee is!

He sighed. “You may.” He handed her back the earring, then rubbed his hands together, his wide sleeves moving like wings in the darkness. “A young man will help you,” he murmured. “A young woman has betrayed you.”

They waited, but he did not say anything else. To give him time, Fiona picked up her glass of juice and took a sip. She put it down, shocked. She had been expecting something like nectar, perhaps an apricot blend. Instead it was tangy, not sweet at all, some kind of vegetable drink.

“What do we owe you?” Rosa asked finally, bringing her woven bag back up to her lap. She slipped the envelope and the photograph back inside.

“I have no set fee. I want my gift to be helpful. People leave what they think it is worth to them. But I implore you to think about it, to retreat from a dangerous quest is not shameful.”

“But how dangerous is it, really?” Rosa's question seemed to echo in the dark, fragrant garden. “I mean, is it life threatening?”

“Dangerous means life threatening.” There was reproof in his voice.

“Well, we'll certainly take care, won't we, Fiona?”

“Yes.” Her body felt too heavy to move. She was sorry now they had come.

“Here.” Rosa took out her wallet, removed several bills, and left them under her empty juice glass. “And thank you for seeing us on such short notice!”

Before he could say anything, before Fiona could push to her feet, Rosa was down the path and out the gate.

As Fiona finally stood up, the psychic touched her shoulder. “Take care of your friends,” he pleaded.

“They're really in danger?”

“And especially yourself.”

“What's going to happen?”

But he was closing the garden gate.

When Fiona caught up with her on Canyon Road, Rosa apologized. “Sorry I ran out; he was giving me the willies.”

“He hinted at a lot of things.”

“They love to talk in riddles! All that stuff about dark men.”

“Young men. Maybe he was the young man who would help us.” Maybe he said that to everyone.

Rosa stopped walking under a streetlight. “No, that sounded as if it was in the future. The young woman who betrays us was in the past.”

“Probably Mandy Muffin. She'll do everything to keep Jackson away from us. Or maybe it was the young woman in Taos who gave Day Star my car rental information. Speaking of young women, let me try Maggie again.”

She took out her phone and retrieved Maggie's number. She pressed it in, expecting to hear the usual ringing. But this time it was answered immediately.

“Yes?”

“Maggie, it's Fiona.”

“Fiona! Thank
God
. Thank God, thank God! It must be telepathy.”

“I've been trying all day.”

“I was at the hospital with my father.”

Fiona felt Maggie's anxiety as an electric shock, whipping through her own body. “Is he okay?”

“He died!” It came out as a wail.

“What? How?”

“It's still so unreal. Last night after dinner he started coughing up blood. Then this morning he was very disoriented, more than usual, and he couldn't move his arm. So I got him to the hospital and—” She couldn't go on.

Fiona palmed her phone. “Her father
died
.”

“My Lord!” Rosa reared back, steadying herself against the lamppost.

“They saw him right away; they admitted him and said he was bleeding internally.” Maggie's voice was ragged in her ear. “They tried to do what they could, but tonight he just stopped breathing.”

“Oh, God. I'm so sorry. What was he bleeding from?”

“They're not sure; they're doing an autopsy. But in a man his age they said something probably ulcerated in his stomach or bowel.”

“Maybe the plane stopped suddenly and he was thrown against his seat belt.”

“I don't think it was anything with the plane. It's so hard on the kids; they can't understand. But you know what? I'm really glad they sent him here, even this way. It gave us a chance to say good-bye. And he was slipping away—his mind, I mean. But lying there in the hospital he looked so bewildered, as if he just didn't understand what was happening to him—my poor daddy.” She was sobbing now.

Fiona felt herself start to cry.

Rosa reached over and took the phone out of her hand. “Maggie,” she said briskly. “Do you need anything? Any help with the arrangements? Anything at all?” She listened for a while, then said, “Well, we'll be home in a day or two. And we'll call you tomorrow.”

She turned to Fiona, who had finished wiping her face. “He'll be cremated there and she'll fly out when she can with the ashes. Her mother's buried out here.”

“What about the kids?”

“Her ex-husband will take them.”

“Oh.” So he hadn't died in the car crash after all. It was the marriage that had not survived.

T
HEY MOVED QUICKLY
down Canyon Road. The windows of the shops along the road were dark, the signs on the doors turned around to “Closed.” A Mexican gallery on the left was deceptively lit, its spotlight focusing on rain sticks and hand-dyed silk scarves, but a carved wooden plaque on the door announced “Shut.”

Where were all the people who had been here before? It didn't feel safe to be walking there alone. “Do you think he was just trying to scare us off?” Fiona asked in a low voice.

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

They walked even faster, and Fiona was cheered to finally see the lights of a restaurant ahead with people at tables on the patio. Thank God!

Yet once they had passed El Farol, the road grew dark again. On the way up, she had not noticed how closed off the buildings were, protected by stone walls or iron gates. A long white-picket fence glowed eerily ahead of them like a false trail. The road twisted just enough so she could not see very far ahead of them—or behind them.

Without discussing it, they had stepped up their pace nearly to a run. “You okay?” Fiona asked as Rosa's panting increased.

“Hanging in. Look how menacing that animal seems now.”

Fiona looked. The huge carved, painted cat's head above a shop, an animal that had seemed whimsical when they were going up Canyon Road, now stared at them like a malevolent deity.

“We should have called a cab,” Rosa gasped. “But the woman at your inn said they were hopeless here. We'd probably still be waiting.”

“I haven't seen any driving around,” Fiona agreed.

I
T SEEMED MIRACULOUS
to finally come upon Rosa's hotel. “I need to stop for a moment,” she said, and Fiona followed her obediently in.

As they approached the bank of elevators, Fiona could hear “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” from the piano lounge. Rosa gave the entryway a quick, wistful glance, and Fiona supposed she would be there later on, cradling a piña colada and singing.

Indeed, when she came back downstairs, Rosa almost succumbed. “How about a quick one? My nerves are
shot.
This has been a terrible day.”

“I think we have to talk to the others first. Make plans.” Yet as she said it, she remembered Paolo Recchia's caution. Rosa was the one he had seemed most worried about. “Or maybe not. You deserve a drink. I'll go back and tell them what we found out.”

Rosa gave her a knowing smile, creating pathways around her mouth. “If we're making plans, I need to be there.”

“Well—some of us should leave for Denver tonight. To see if we can see anything large in the mountains and talk to the airport.”

“You mean you and Mr. Charming?”

“I think I'd feel better if Dominick was along.”

“Ah. Everybody but me. Is it my age—or my unfiltered cigarettes?”

“You aren't looking for Susan anymore.”

“And if you find something important, you'll come back for me?”

Fiona looked away. “You could always drive the other car back to Albuquerque. It's not like we all have to be there every minute.”

“But you do?” Rosa turned toward the door.

“Well, I'm the one who got us into this. And,” she looked at Rosa directly, “I'm scared for you. Paolo Recchia scared me. He made it sound as if we're a bunch of clueless Easterners here on a lark. That we don't understand how nasty things can get.”

Rosa put her hand on Fiona's arm. “It's sweet of you to worry about me. But I'm tough as a dried-up cactus. I should be worried about you, you're so young. C'mon, let's go break it to the others.”

When they approached the Turquoise Trail Inn, most of the windows were dark. “Maybe they're already in bed,” Rosa said.

“They better not be!”

“Just an impression.”

“Sorry, I guess I'm on edge. And PMS is worse when the air is thin. Just when I should be super alert, I'm not thinking straight. I don't want to take everyone else down with me.”

Rosa looked amused. “We're all consenting adults.”

Dominick and Greg weren't in bed. They were in a side sitting room, the one area of the inn with no historical pretense. It had fake wood-paneled walls and furniture stuffed into too-tight floral slipcovers. There was a table stacked with battered board games and shelves of DVDs.

The two men were watching
Terminator 2
, focusing on the screen with the intensity of recruits watching a training film.

Greg looked over finally and gave a slow wave, and Dominick smiled. But neither of them moved toward the control to pause the film.

Fiona went over and stood in front of the large screen. “We have to talk.”

“This is the best part, right at the end,” Greg protested.

“Get a life. And not Arnold Schwarzenegger's.” She still did not move.

“Are you this much of a pain to your boyfriend?” But he clicked the remote, and the picture disappeared.

“We can talk in my room,” Fiona said.

“
Now
she invites me to her room.”

“Did you find out anything?” Dominick asked her quietly as they funneled into the hall.

“I don't know. It was interesting. I'm not into supernatural stuff, but he scared the hell out of us.”

“Really? What did he say?” For the first time, Dominick looked frightened.

Instead of answering, Fiona unlocked the door to her room and switched on the overhead light. The bed had been made, but everything else looked the same. She and Dominick sat down on the end of the bed, and Greg and Rosa took the director's chairs.

“Did you show him the map?” Greg asked. His earlier skepticism seemed to have dissipated.

“He said it didn't work that way. Or he doesn't. He said we should be looking for something big. He mentioned mountains, but no town.”

Rosa brought the map out and handed it to Fiona.

“My God. There are mountains everywhere! And not that many towns.” Then something else caught her attention, something that made her feel as if she had been scooped into the air and dropped down hard. “What is the Great Sand Dunes Monument?” she demanded, lowering the map so everyone could see and pointing to a rectangular shape.

“Just what it says,” Greg told her. “It's a little desert. You don't expect to find it in the middle of mountains.”

But she was already turning to Rosa. “That's what he said, that it happened near sand. I thought he was picking that up from Long Island. But it's between here and Denver.”

Dominick gestured at the map. “There are a lot of mountains around it.”

“Mount Lindsey, Little Bear, Blanca Peak,” Greg recited without looking. “All fourteen-thousand footers.”

“But did he say what had happened there?”

Fiona shook her head. “Just to look for something big.”

“Well, it couldn't be the plane. That landed in Denver.”

“They said it made a stop to refuel. Do you see any airports around there?”

Dominick looked at the map. “No. There's one farther east, but it's not that close.”

“Oh, God.” Fiona pressed against Dominick, stricken, needing his comforting bulk. “We forgot to tell you. Maggie's father died.”

“He
died?
When?” Dominick's voice was as shocked as hers had been.

“This afternoon. Or this evening.”

“This happened in New York? How old was he?”

Why did people always ask that? “It doesn't matter. He had dementia. But he died from internal bleeding. It started this morning, and she took him to the hospital. That's why she was never home.”

“My Lord.”

“I brought a map book of Southwestern mountains I can loan you,” Greg said suddenly. “But I need it back.”

“Why would you loan it to us?” Fiona asked. “Aren't you coming?”

He shook his head. “Nah. What I need is right around here.”

“But in the restaurant it sounded as if you were going with us.”

“I'll get the guidebook. I'll show you what to look for.”

As soon as Greg was gone, Dominick asked anxiously, “Did the psychic say anything about Coral?”

Fiona and Rosa looked at each other.

“He didn't talk about anyone specifically,” Rosa said. “He just said the people we're looking for are together now.”

“What the hell did he mean by that? Did he think it was good or bad?”

“He didn't say.”

“There seems to be a lot he didn't say.”

It was uncharacteristic of Dominick to complain, but he had been stressed since leaving Taos.

“What happened at the police station?” Fiona asked.

“I don't know why I bothered! All they did was have me file a missing person's report, which they faxed to Taos. They took my cell number in case they find out anything. That was it.”

“But she's just a child. What about an Amber Alert?”

“They don't believe Eve ever put her on the plane. They thought it was impossible that Coral got on the plane and didn't get off in Denver.”

“Did you tell them what we thought about the terrorists?”

“No.”

“No?”

He turned on Fiona, exasperated. “Because I don't believe anything like that ever happened. I want the police to take Coral's being gone seriously, not think I'm a whack job. Maybe I should have said she was abducted by aliens!”

“That's very disappointing,” Rosa said quickly, before Fiona could answer. “They should have taken you much more seriously.”

Elbows on his knees, he put his head in his hands. Finally he looked up. “When Eve gets back, we'll go to the police in Taos. That's what I should have done.”

Greg came in then and handed Fiona a small, leather-bound guide, open to a mass of swirls. It was a thumbprint she could not hope to read. Silently she handed the book to Dominick, though she doubted he could understand it either. Then she turned on Greg. “When did you decide not to come?”

“I told you, I don't have time. What I'm looking for is in Santa Fe. I'm not part of your little expedition.”

“But you owe it to us!”

“
What
?
How?”

“Well, Dominick let you stay with him.” She could not think of anything else. “Please, Greg, we
need
you. What if we left right away and got back before noon? That would give you time to do what you have to do.”

“We can't go now,” Dominick warned. “It's too easy to make mistakes when you're tired and it's dark. We won't be able to see anything for hours.”

In the end, they decided to get up and leave at five in the morning. And Greg agreed to go.

But as Rosa was pushing herself out of the canvas chair, she said to Greg, “Will you drive Fiona and me to my hotel? I don't think it's safe for us to be walking around.”

When Fiona turned to stare at her, she added, “You're not staying in here by yourself.” She gestured at the flimsy brass lock on the patio doors. “That wouldn't stop a squirrel. You're on the ground floor, where anyone could break in.”

“Okay.”

“You'll come?”

Fiona saw that the others expected her to protest. So she said, “Just let me get my stuff.”

“Good girl!”

Safe girl.