Against the Odds (9 page)

Silence fell on the other end of the line.

“Is there somethin’ you aren’t telling me? Like a reason
someone might want to bring that chopper down with you and the lady aboard?”

“Just being careful. Until we know for sure what happened, I
don’t want to take any chances.”

“I’ll see to it,” the sheriff said. “You don’t need to
worry.”

“And keep me posted on that lead.”

Dickens agreed and the call ended. Alex shoved the phone back
into his pocket, but instead of climbing into the Jeep, he leaned down and took
a look at the undercarriage. Maybe he was being paranoid, but until the sheriff
came up with something concrete, part of his job—whether he was being paid or
not—was to protect Sabrina.

He took a good look, saw nothing, checked beneath the hood,
then slammed it closed. Sliding behind the wheel, he started the engine and
caught Sabrina watching him.

“What was that all about?”

“That was Sheriff Dickens. They figured out what happened to
the chopper.”

“So what happened?”

“He thinks someone may have tampered with the engine and the
rotor blades. Fouled the oil. It clogged the hydraulics and caused the blades to
jam.”

Her eyes widened. They looked bigger and bluer than they
usually did. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would someone do that?”

He thought of her uncle and the silver that might or might not
be in the mine. Maybe Walter wasn’t quite as secretive as Sabrina believed.
Maybe someone figured to benefit with the new owner out of the picture. It was a
long shot, but unless the sheriff nailed down the perp, it was a possibility he
couldn’t ignore.

“Looks like that’s something we’re going to need to find
out.”

Nine

“I
don’t understand, Alex. Why would
someone purposely cause the crash?”

“Could be any number of reasons,” he said.

“Is that why you were checking the car? You were afraid someone
might have tampered with it?” A faint shiver ran through her as a memory arose
of Sage and the bomb that had been planted in her limo. She’d been entertaining
a Saudi sheik and his family. The bomb was one of the reasons Alex had been
brought in to work with Jake.

Things like that happened, she knew—just not to her.

“We’ve had one problem,” Alex said. “I don’t want another.”

“You aren’t thinking someone was targeting one of us?” She kept
her eyes on Alex’s profile, saw a muscle tighten in his cheek.

“Until the sheriff tells us otherwise, it’s a possibility we
can’t ignore.”

“But—”

“I’m not expecting trouble, Sabrina.” He drove the Jeep out of
the parking lot toward Highway 67, the road leading south. “I’m just being
careful.”

Just being careful.
Alex was a
professional. Of course he would be careful. “But no one even knows we’re
here.”

“No one except the people who arranged the rental car and
whoever they might have told. Now Woodard knows we’re here.”

It all seemed so unlikely. “What else did the sheriff say?”

“He says they have a lead they’re following. He says he’ll let
us know.”

“That sounds promising.”

“Maybe. But it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

True enough. And if the sheriff suspected someone had purposely
caused the helicopter engine to fail and one of them was the target, that
someone might find another way to make them dead.

On the other hand... “But it could have happened accidentally,
right? The oil problem? It could have just been human error...a mistake.”

“
Two
mistakes,” he said. “Engine
and rotors. It’s a little hard to believe.”

She thought of how close they had come to dying, thought of the
freezing nights and burning days in the desert, and a chill crept down the back
of her neck.

“Maybe it was someone who just wanted to cause trouble, just a
case of malicious vandalism. Maybe the person was trying to destroy the chopper,
and we were just collateral damage.”

“Could be. Definitely an angle to check. That may be where the
sheriff’s investigation is headed, but until we know for sure, we have to
explore every possibility. What would have happened to the mine if you’d been
killed?”

“What? Oh, my God, you aren’t thinking that was the motive? We
don’t even know if there’s anything of value in the mine.”

“We don’t know. Maybe someone else does.”

She couldn’t make it fit. The crash couldn’t possibly have
anything to do with her. “I don’t believe it. Even if Uncle Walter found silver,
he wouldn’t have told anyone.”

“He told you. Maybe there was someone else he trusted.”

He trusted her mother. And her mom, as sweet as she was, wasn’t
good at keeping secrets.

“He told my mother the same thing he told me—that he was very
close to finding silver. Mom would hardly arrange for me to be killed in a
helicopter crash. And even if I died, she wouldn’t have gotten the mine.”

“Who would have?”

She frowned, trying to think of what it had said in the will.
“I’m not sure. Someone else in the family. I know there was a clause about
survivorship, but I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t really care who got the
mine if I was dead.”

Alex shot her a glance. “We’ll find out. Besides, it’s all just
conjecture until we take a look, see what your uncle might have discovered.”

“And till we know what the sheriff comes up with.”

“That’s right.”

The whole thing seemed incredible. And yet Sheriff Dickens
believed someone had purposely sabotaged the helicopter. For several miles,
Sabrina allowed her mind to absorb that news while the Jeep roared along the
highway.

It was little more than a black asphalt strip that rolled south
out of Rio Gordo toward the town of Presidio on the Mexican border, a distance
of about sixty miles. Outside the window, the desert floor rose toward a range
of jagged, rocky hills in the distance. Her mind went back to the miles of
barren emptiness she and Alex had struggled to survive and a different thought
occurred.

She looked over at Alex. “Who knew you were flying me out
here?” His blue gaze swung back to hers. “You have enemies, right?”

“You’re thinking maybe I was the target?”

She shrugged. “How many people have you pissed off lately? As I
recall, I saw one of them on TV not long ago.” The pervert who had murdered
little Carrie Wiseman. “Maybe someone wants
you
dead
instead of me.”

As the miles ticked away, Alex started slowing the vehicle.
“It’s possible. I’m a private investigator. I work closely with the police. And
as you say, sometimes I piss people off.”

Rina looked down at the speedometer. They had traveled
twenty-eight miles. “It makes as much sense as anything else.”

“For now, let’s see if there’s anything out here worth killing
for, then we’ll know more.” He checked the odometer. “The turn should be right
around here. Keep your eyes open.”

Alex slowed a little more and Rina fixed her gaze on the east
side of the highway, looking for the faint dirt track that led to the mine.

“There it is! That has to be it.”

He braked. “Looks like it. Not much else out here.” And if a
person didn’t know where to look, he would miss the slight indentations marking
the parallel ruts that indicated a road leading into the desert.

Alex turned onto the road, slipped the Jeep into four-wheel
drive, and they headed off. Sabrina ignored a feeling of déjà vu, a memory of
the last time she had been out there.

And the trace of uncertainty crawling down her spine.

* * *

The mine was little more than a hole dug into the side
of a mountain. A black spot in a low ridge of rock that stretched for miles,
north to south, through the desert. Alex counted half a dozen old wooden
buildings clustered nearby, battered by the years, wind and sand.

“It’s a ghost town,” Sabrina said, her gaze following his to
what was left out there, just the worn-out bones of the structures they had once
been.

“Not much of a town, but there were definitely people living
out here at one time.”

“Working the mine, you think?”

“Be my guess.” One of the cabins looked like it had been
restored, the wooden sides reinforced, the roof repaired. There was an old rock
fireplace against one side of the building, the chimney rising a few feet above
the top. A rocking chair sat forlornly beneath the covered front porch as if
waiting for someone to come out and sit in it.

“That must be Walter’s cabin,” Sabrina said. “He talked about
it when I saw him that last Christmas. He died a week before Christmas this
year.”

They headed toward the cabin, their hiking boots crunching in
the sand. Both of them were wearing jeans, but today Sabrina wore low-topped
leather boots instead of the sneakers she had worn before. How a woman could
look sexy in jeans and hiking boots, he couldn’t imagine. But desire settled low
in his groin, making it clear this one did.

Maybe it was her hair. Longer now, it curled in soft, fiery
waves around her face. And those full pink lips. He remembered exactly how they
tasted, how perfectly they fit with his, and fought his unwanted arousal.

They crossed the wooden porch and he opened the door, which
wasn’t locked. The inside of the structure was as simple as the outside. Just a
cot covered by a pair of flannel sheets and a red-and-black-striped wool
blanket. An old-fashioned dry sink ran along the wall, a wooden table and two
sturdy wooden chairs sitting next to it. A coffeepot sat on an old cast-iron
woodstove that must have been used for cooking and also for heat.

“He lived a modest life,” Sabrina said. “At least after he and
Aunt Marlene got divorced.”

“What about before?” he asked.

“Walter was an accountant. He owned a very successful firm.
Marlene enjoyed the high life but Walter never did.”

Alex prowled the cabin, saw Sabrina doing the same. She picked
up a little wooden box that sat on a low pine table next to the bed. The box was
made of polished rosewood, the top inlaid with mother-of-pearl.

Her small hand stroked lovingly over the lid. “I gave this to
Uncle Walter one Christmas. I brought it back with me from France.”

The morning Alex had stormed in and confronted Sabrina about
this trip to the desert, he had noticed the French antiques in her apartment,
had appreciated the way she had blended the beautiful French pieces with a
comfortable modern decor. At the time, he’d been too damned angry to mention
it.

Sabrina ran her fingers over the box, then slowly opened the
lid. “Oh, my God. Alex, there’s an envelope in here with my name on it.”

So the old man had expected her to come. “Go ahead...open
it.”

Her hand trembled as she removed the letter, stared down at the
envelope in her hand. Alex watched as she carefully broke the seal and pulled
out a single sheet of paper.

“What’s it say?”

She took a deep breath as she stared down at the letter. “‘If
you are reading this, my dear sweet girl, then something has happened and I am
dead.’” She swallowed, took a moment then started reading again. “‘If that’s
true, you are now the owner of the Sabrina Belle.’” Her eyes filled as she
looked up, and Alex’s chest tightened at the sadness in her face.

“Oh, Alex, he named the mine after me.” Her throat moved up and
down and the letter trembled in her hand. It was clear her uncle had loved her,
and why shouldn’t he? She was sweet and loyal and determined. Walter must have
admired those qualities in his niece, a young woman who had stood by him when
the rest of his family had deserted him.

“What else does the letter say?” he gently prodded.

She released a shaky breath.

“I knew that after I was gone, you would come to see for yourself
what I have left you, and that when you did, you would find this letter. You
always believed in me. Now all my years of hard work belong to you. This mine is
all I have to give you, but I am certain you will find it to be more than
enough. God be with you. Your loving Uncle Walter.”

* * *

Sabrina turned away but not before Alex saw the tears in
her eyes tremble onto her cheeks. He walked toward her, turned her around and
drew her into his arms.

“It’s all right, love. He’s in a better place. And now you know
how much he loved you.”

She nodded, hung on to him for several moments. She felt soft
and feminine in his arms and he was glad he was there when she needed him. After
all, he told himself, what were friends for? She clung to him a moment more,
then stepped back and wiped away her tears.

“Uncle Walter didn’t come right out and say it, but he’s
telling me there’s silver here. I’m not going to fail him, Alex. I’m going to
find it.”

He reached out and traced a finger down her cheek. He wanted to
lean down and kiss her, taste those sweet lips and take away a little of her
sadness. Now wasn’t the time. And it was a bad idea to even be thinking that
way.

He glanced out the window, saw a cloud of dust rolling toward
them along the dirt road they had traveled, marking the progress of the mining
engineer.

“Looks like your guy is here.”

Her glance sliced to the window. They watched the white Ford
pickup drive up in front of the cabin, then together walked out to greet
him.

Arturo Hernandez was a tall, lean Hispanic man in his early
forties, handsome, with his darkly tanned skin and traces of silver in his hair.
Sun lines fanned out at the corners of his eyes but it only added an air of
ruggedness to his appearance.

“You must be Ms. Eckhart.” He smiled, his gaze running over
her, taking in her fiery hair and sexy curves. Alex felt an unexpected stab of
jealousy.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hernandez,” she said,
extending her small hand, which Hernandez held a little longer than Alex liked.
“This is my friend, Alex Justice.”

Alex shook the man’s hand.

Hernandez glanced around, taking in the deserted buildings.
“There was mining here many years ago,” he explained, turning back to Sabrina,
“after the turn of the last century, in the early nineteen twenties. The mine
never produced much of anything and finally fell into ruin. I did not know it
was here until after you called and I started doing some research. I discovered
that a man named Walter Eckhart most recently owned the property.”

“That’s right. He was my uncle. He died six months ago. I own
the property now.”

Hernandez’s dark eyes swung toward some fresh tailings near the
opening in the mountainside. “It has been worked fairly recently. Let us see
what we have.”

The engineer had the gear they needed, which he dispensed from
the bed of his pickup. Helmets with lights in the front, several LED
flashlights. Apparently Sabrina had arranged for him to bring the equipment when
she had spoken to him on the phone.

For more than an hour, they explored the mine and the nearby
surrounding area. The interior had been shored up with new timbers and there was
a generator to work the lights that hung from the ceiling inside the main shaft,
but it was clearly a one-man operation.

“It is well maintained,” Hernandez said. “Looks like your uncle
did a lot of work.”

“For the past seven years, he spent most of his time out
here.”

Hernandez took samples from various locations inside the mine
shaft. “Your uncle must have assay records, information on what he found over
the years.”

“I haven’t seen anything.”

“Maybe it’ll turn up,” Alex suggested.

By the time they walked back out into the light, Arturo and
Sabrina were on a first-name basis, and the engineer was smiling.