Sulfur Springs by Krueger William Kent

Author:Krueger, William Kent [Krueger, William Kent]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, Mystery, Suspense, Crime, Adult
ISBN: 9781501147340
Amazon: 150114734X
Goodreads: 32920259
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 2017-08-22T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 22

* * *

I slept fitfully in the backseat. Rainy had insisted that I lay myself out, try to rest. She’d given me ibuprofen from a container she carried in her purse, but everywhere still hurt like hell.

In my sleep, I dreamed that she and Mondragón were walking on a beach along the ocean somewhere. The sky behind them was a blazing red, as if from either a sunrise or a sunset. Or maybe even from a huge fire invisible except for the glow of its flames. They were talking.

You have always been beautiful, Mondragón said.

Rainy replied, but I heard only the last part: I loved when you did that.

This? Mondragón said.

He turned to her and cupped her breasts in his hands and kissed her. Then they were lying naked on the beach, red in the glow of the sunrise or sunset or flames. And I woke with a start.

The desert was on fire with a red dawn. Rainy and Mondragón were in the front seat, talking quietly. I lay for a moment, listening.

“Those of us with dual citizenship, we hope our daughters marry American men, because they’re not so macho and won’t hit our daughters. Our sons, we hope, will marry Mexican girls, because they know how to be good wives.”

“And Consuela, is she a good wife?”

“She is an obedient wife.”

“Do you love her?”

“We have a life together. But I have loved, truly loved, only one woman, querida.”

They were both quiet. I heard the grating caw of a crow in the still of the morning air outside. Then Rainy said, “There’s plenty of light now. We should go.”

I sat up slowly. Both my cut cheek and the cigarette burn on my chest felt on fire. My ribs were tender where I’d been punched. I pulled up my rattlesnake T-shirt.

Rainy turned in the front seat. “Oh, Cork. It looks awful.”

“I’ve hurt worse.” Which even to me sounded way too macho.

“If we were on Crow Point, I’d put together a poultice for that bruise.”

“I’ll take some more ibuprofen.”

I swallowed four tablets and followed them with a lot of water from one of the gallon jugs in back.

“If you’re through with your patient, we should be going,” Mondragón said. “Here.” He handed a GPS device to Rainy. “Cell phone reception out here is pretty iffy. I’ve keyed in the coordinates for the Lulabelle. Should take us right to Peter.”

In a short time, the sun was above the horizon, and for a while we drove with it glaring in our eyes. When we entered the shadow of the Santa Margaritas, Mondragón turned south, following the foothills along the western face of the range. The jeep trail was barely a trail at all, and he took it slow.

After forty minutes, Rainy said, “We’re close.” She pointed toward the mountains. “Up there.”

Mondragón braked to a stop and said, “Let’s take another look at that map.”

We stepped from the SUV. The air hadn’t cooled much in the night, and as the sun climbed, I could feel the day heating up, the blast furnace of the desert being stoked.

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