adventures” in several places. Whoever wrote the copy for the site was fond of the description. She clicked on each section and reread them.
“As you are drawn closer to the powerful force field of the magical sandstone formation known as the Flying Saucer Vortex, the most potent vortex of the area, you will discover the healing power of Celestial Vibrations. From the act of traversing the magical red rocks you will experience the feminine energy of our own unique brand of sandstone adventure.”
Tess winced. She wasn’t an English major, but she knew bad writing when she saw it.
So what did this mean? Nothing, by itself. But taken together with the woman and the boy, it seemed likely that they were the ones who’d purchased the truck from Talbot’s Chevrolet.
Tess glanced at the tabs on the top of the healing center’s website and noticed that the Desert Oasis had a gift shop. She decided to take a look. Besides healing crystals, New Age music, shaman prayer sticks, and expensive handbags, there was a section for kids: plush toys, puzzles, expensive baby duds, and T-shirts emblazoned with “The Desert Oasis Healing Center,” over a red rock vista. (Even though the red rocks of Sedona were almost twenty miles away.) Among the gifts was an official Desert Oasis yo-yo.
The boy had a yo-yo. The car salesman at Talbot’s Chevrolet had told her that.
Tess was now 99-percent certain that the woman and the boy had been the ones to purchase the truck for Sandstone Adventures, and that Sandstone Adventures was a fabrication of the Desert Oasis Healing Center.
Why hide the purchase of a truck? Why did the woman dress up and wear a wig?
Something was going on.
Tess had that bad feeling—what her ex-husband, who’d worked SWAT in Albuquerque, called his “Spidey sense.” She had a strong Spidey sense about the woman and the boy.
The limo Hogart was driving when he tried to pick up Max Conroy was leased by the Desert Oasis Healing Center.
She tried the Desert Oasis Healing Center again and asked the operator if she could be put through to the man at the top—Gordon White Eagle.
Of course, he was unavailable.
T ESS CAUGHT P AT just as he was getting off the phone. He’d been working for months trying to get evidence on a guy suspected of battering his own father. “Yeah, what’s up?” Pat was always in a bad mood when it came to that case.
“I told you about the woman I saw at the car wash.”
“Yeah, you had a bad feeling about her and her kid. So?”
Tess filled him in about the woman and the boy, how they’d bought a truck for a company called “Sandstone Adventures.”
“Sounds like a tour, like one of those jeep or white-water tours. Where was this, Sedona?”
“The dealership’s in Clarkdale.” Tess handed him the name and phone number for Talbot’s Chevrolet in Clarkdale.
“You really got a thing for this gal,” Pat said. “All she did was wash her truck at Joe’s.”
“She might be involved with those guys who tried to kidnap Max Conroy.”
“Oh? And you came to this conclusion how?”
“I think she works for the Desert Oasis Healing Center. They rented the limo those two guys were in.”
He looked at her skeptically. “You have anything else besides that?”
“Sandstone Adventures doesn’t exist. Not as a company in Sedona. And she wore a disguise when she bought the truck.”
He leaned forward. “Now that’s interesting. What do you mean, disguise?”
She described the woman and the boy.
Pat said, “I think I’ve seen her around. Kind of spooky looking?”
“That’s her. But when she bought the truck, she was dressed up. Dress, heels. She wore a wig. And the boy was with her.”
Pat said, “Tell you what. I’ll talk to my pal at Yavapai County and see what he can find out.” He stood up. “Later, though. Right now I have to see a man about an assault and battery.”
M AX HAD TWO cars to choose from. Sam P.’s vintage Cadillac, parked out front with a
“As you are drawn closer to the powerful force field of the magical sandstone formation known as the Flying Saucer Vortex, the most potent vortex of the area, you will discover the healing power of Celestial Vibrations. From the act of traversing the magical red rocks you will experience the feminine energy of our own unique brand of sandstone adventure.”
Tess winced. She wasn’t an English major, but she knew bad writing when she saw it.
So what did this mean? Nothing, by itself. But taken together with the woman and the boy, it seemed likely that they were the ones who’d purchased the truck from Talbot’s Chevrolet.
Tess glanced at the tabs on the top of the healing center’s website and noticed that the Desert Oasis had a gift shop. She decided to take a look. Besides healing crystals, New Age music, shaman prayer sticks, and expensive handbags, there was a section for kids: plush toys, puzzles, expensive baby duds, and T-shirts emblazoned with “The Desert Oasis Healing Center,” over a red rock vista. (Even though the red rocks of Sedona were almost twenty miles away.) Among the gifts was an official Desert Oasis yo-yo.
The boy had a yo-yo. The car salesman at Talbot’s Chevrolet had told her that.
Tess was now 99-percent certain that the woman and the boy had been the ones to purchase the truck for Sandstone Adventures, and that Sandstone Adventures was a fabrication of the Desert Oasis Healing Center.
Why hide the purchase of a truck? Why did the woman dress up and wear a wig?
Something was going on.
Tess had that bad feeling—what her ex-husband, who’d worked SWAT in Albuquerque, called his “Spidey sense.” She had a strong Spidey sense about the woman and the boy.
The limo Hogart was driving when he tried to pick up Max Conroy was leased by the Desert Oasis Healing Center.
She tried the Desert Oasis Healing Center again and asked the operator if she could be put through to the man at the top—Gordon White Eagle.
Of course, he was unavailable.
T ESS CAUGHT P AT just as he was getting off the phone. He’d been working for months trying to get evidence on a guy suspected of battering his own father. “Yeah, what’s up?” Pat was always in a bad mood when it came to that case.
“I told you about the woman I saw at the car wash.”
“Yeah, you had a bad feeling about her and her kid. So?”
Tess filled him in about the woman and the boy, how they’d bought a truck for a company called “Sandstone Adventures.”
“Sounds like a tour, like one of those jeep or white-water tours. Where was this, Sedona?”
“The dealership’s in Clarkdale.” Tess handed him the name and phone number for Talbot’s Chevrolet in Clarkdale.
“You really got a thing for this gal,” Pat said. “All she did was wash her truck at Joe’s.”
“She might be involved with those guys who tried to kidnap Max Conroy.”
“Oh? And you came to this conclusion how?”
“I think she works for the Desert Oasis Healing Center. They rented the limo those two guys were in.”
He looked at her skeptically. “You have anything else besides that?”
“Sandstone Adventures doesn’t exist. Not as a company in Sedona. And she wore a disguise when she bought the truck.”
He leaned forward. “Now that’s interesting. What do you mean, disguise?”
She described the woman and the boy.
Pat said, “I think I’ve seen her around. Kind of spooky looking?”
“That’s her. But when she bought the truck, she was dressed up. Dress, heels. She wore a wig. And the boy was with her.”
Pat said, “Tell you what. I’ll talk to my pal at Yavapai County and see what he can find out.” He stood up. “Later, though. Right now I have to see a man about an assault and battery.”
M AX HAD TWO cars to choose from. Sam P.’s vintage Cadillac, parked out front with a
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