TAOS
FRIDAY MORNING
"WHY CAN'T I COME WITH YOU?" CARLY ASKED. "WHY SHOULD GUS HAVE TO RUN down and check on me every few minutes?"
"Every half hour."
"Whatever. You know what I mean. And I'm not talking about the archive babysitting rules."
Dan looked at the woman standing in the middle of the crowded basement. Cold air filtered down the stairway through the gaps in the cellar door that was also part of the basement's roof. His leg felt like something was gnawing on it.
He ignored everything but Carly. "The man I'm going to see is an international narcotraficante. I don't even want you in the same country with him, much less the same room. He's good for five murders on both sides of the border that we know of, and that doesn't include the poor illegals who died in the desert carrying forty-kilo backpacks of Mexican brown over the border in the middle of the desert. All those men wanted was a chance at a better life. What they got was death."
Her chin came up. "I read the newspapers and watch TV. I know what happens."
"But it doesn't happen to you. I want to keep it that way. I'll be back before lunch. If you aren't here, you'd better be in the office with Gus or with my parents."
"Is that advice or an order?" she asked through clenched teeth.
"Whatever works."
When she would have argued, he distracted her by sticking his tongue in her mouth and kissing her until she softened and returned the favor. And the flavor. Slowly, reluctantly, he lifted his head.
"Be here for me, Carolina May."
"You're not playing fair."
"I'm not playing at all."
"Like I said…" She closed her eyes for an instant. "Okay, okay. You win."
"No, we win."
She watched him walk up the stairs and out into the overcast, snow-threatening day. The scars she had seen and touched on his leg this morning were red, barely healed; she knew they must hurt. Yet he refused to let it slow him down.
In or out of bed.
Don't go there, Carly told herself quickly. The man was way too distracting and she had a lot of work to do if she hoped to have a rough draft of Winifred's history in the next few weeks. Even if Dan came through with a bridge program to transfer material from microfilm to scanner to her computer, she would still be working sixteen-hour days to meet Winifred's new deadline.
Mentally bracing herself, Carly went to the microfilm files. Somewhere in all those metal boxes was the answer to old questions and two very new ones.
Who was trying to kill her?
And why?