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Someone tapped on Ally’s window and we both jumped and swiveled our heads to the side.
I nearly spewed better-living-through-chemistry cream on my windshield at what I saw.
It was Grizzly Adams, but the serial killer version. He was enormous, had lots of wild, blond hair, a thick, seriously overlong (we’re talking ZZ Top here) russet beard and was wearing a flannel shirt even though it had to be nearly ninety degrees.
He was also carrying a shotgun and had some kind of freaky-ass goggle apparatus on the top of his head.
“You want somethin’?” he growled.
“We’re looking for Tim Shubert,” Ally replied calmly.
“He’s not here,” Grizzly said. “Move along.”
“Yep, yep. Going!” I shouted and started the car, put it into gear and took off.
“Where are we going?” Ally asked.
“Hell if I know,” I answered.
“We should have asked him some questions,” Ally said, completely at ease.
“Right. No. We’re trying toavoidme getting dead. Definitelyyougetting dead. I don’t talk to people who carry shotguns around in broad daylight.”
“He looked interesting,” Ally replied contemplatively.
Shit.
* * *
It was just after four.
After our introduction to Grizzly, we’d swung back by Fortnum’s to help out Jane for a while and ask if she’d heard from Duke (answer: no).
Now Ally and I were in my dark-blue VW Beetle, windows down, sunroof back, sitting outside Rosie’s house sipping leftover water and waiting.
My Beetle wasn’t exactly a rock ’n’ roll-mobile, but it was cute. It had cream leather seats that were great in the winter because they heated up. Now that it was summer, the seats stuck to your legs and every time you got out it felt like three layers of skin tore off (another reason to wear jeans).
Denver had killer weather, as in nearly perfect. Summers were hot, but usually at night it cooled off enough to sleep under a cover. Spring and fall were volatile and allowed for variety in wardrobe. Winter was never too cold because there was no moisture in the air. The occasional blizzard was a bummer, and sometimes there were snowstorms in July, but nearly every day was sunny and the blue skies of Denver could not be beat.
We’d already called Duke, like, a gazillion times. Duke and Dolores were visiting Dolores’s parents in Pagosa Springs. They were supposed to be home in the morning but had still not arrived. I didn’t know Dolores’s parents’ number or her maiden name. We were stuck on that score.
I found Duke’s disappearance curious and a little scary, although Duke had been known to go walkabout, except it was walkabout on a Harley.
Duke didn’t do cell phones and I was loath to go to Evergreen. Although Rosie would likely be there or go there, at least eventually, as that was where the diamonds were, so might Lee, and I had decided I was definitely back to avoiding Lee.
I had not come to terms with this abrupt about-face and needed time to process it.
Who was I kidding?
There was no processing going on.
Lee and I were not gonna happen.
I hated to break Ally and Kitty Sue’s hearts, but I’d seen Lee tear through a variety of women’s lives and I wasn’t going to be one of them.
These days he was never home.
I had no idea what he did for a living, but I was pretty sure it was dangerous.
