Hard Target Read online

  Outside, suddenly, the heavy rain thrummed down on the corrugated tin roof, driven hard by a sudden high wind. The downpour had started. Tay put his gun back into the holster. "See if you can find anything that could tell us what Cabanelos might have eaten or drank."

  Dawna flicked the safety back on her Browning and walked over to the counter. Two pots were upside down in the crude sink whose drain led through the wall to the outside. A small wooden bowl held compost scraps, confirming that Cabanelos had eaten fresh potatoes, bananas and quinoa. An ancient green Thermos sat open and Dawna sniffed it. It, too, was clean. "Everything here has been washed. I'll give one thing to Cabanelos. He might have lived in poverty, but he was clean and organized."

  She turned around. Tay was using a pen to lift up the clothes in the suitcase. "And smart, too. There doesn't seem to be anything to tie him to the embassy."

  Dawna eyed Tay. "So, how do you know he was poisoned?"

  Tay had to admire her. She knew exactly what he been trying not to say. "Just a hunch. Besides, I know what a heart attack looks like."

  "Why?"

  "My father had one, the only time I ever visited him after my parents divorced."

  Her expression clouded momentarily. "I'm sorry. Did he die?"

  "No. Nothing as minor as a heart attack would kill that prick."

  His words stabbed at the air between them. He'd never before said that word out loud when referring to his old man, but he'd thought it plenty of times. Still, the expletive spewed out of his mouth, as cold and harsh as the rain that pounded the meager hut's clay roof.

  Dawna said nothing about the obscenity. "How long have they been divorced?"

  "Since I was ten. Nathan didn't spend much time with me after that."

  "Nathan?"

  "The old man. I couldn't call him anything but Nathan after he left. He didn't seem like my father, anymore."

  Dawna walked across the dim room and with him, peered down at the suitcase. "Sorry. Where is he now?"

  "In Montreal somewhere. I can't remember the name of the nursing home. He decided to move into the place after his heart attack."

  "When did you see him last?"

  Tay glanced over at her, pushing the bitterness away. It was bad enough that he regretted all the crap that had been heaped on Dawna because of his stupidity. He didn't want to add to it the bitterness his father had caused.

  Yet, standing there, listening to the endless cadence of the downpour outside, he understood something else.

  Only a part of him regretted his stupidity of that night in his staff car. The other part knew the memory of his aborted lovemaking had kept him alive these past three years.

  A swell of raw hunger filled him.

  What was he doing, thinking of that at a time like this? A man lay dying in a church down the road, and they were checking his home for evidence it may be murder. This was hardly the time to think of Dawna as anything more than the good police officer that she was.

  He stepped away from her.

  Abruptly, a small scrape sounded by the door. Dawna grabbed Tay and they pressed themselves against the wall behind the opening door. As she lifted her weapon, Tay fought the urge to shove her behind him.

  No. She'd been trained for things like this, he told himself. And was damn good at it. They'd fight whoever was at this door together.

  Chapter Seven

  A small head poked in as soon as the door opened, a knitted wool cap proving that the rain had turned to wet snow. The young boy peered around the room, his basic, tattered sweater soaked.

  Quickly, Dawna pointed her weapon to the ceiling. Tay did likewise. The boy jumped when he spotted them. Tay scanned the outside behind the boy, but the child was alone.

  "Señora Atkinson?" the boy asked Dawna.

  "Si."

  Tay suppressed a smile. Dawna was probably older than the boy's mother, hence the married title.

  "Señor Cabanelos dead. Doctor come. Road gone." He repeated his stilted words. Then as quickly as the boy appeared, he disappeared.

  Tay grabbed the door and peered out. Through the driving rain, he spotted the boy race past the armored car and melt into the downpour.

  Despite the wet cold, anxiety burned through him. The road was gone? Did the boy mean washed out? So quickly?

  He crushed the useless urge to chase after the child. No doubt he was merely repeating some words the priest had drilled into him.

  Rain slashed at him when the wind picked up suddenly. Realizing he was getting soaked, he quickly shut the door.

  Behind him, Dawna sighed. "We should call the ambassador. He'll be worried."

  "You call. I'll pull the car up closer. No point in us both getting wet."

  Dawna nodded and dug the keys out of her pocket. Their fingers touched. Despite the circumstances, he found he liked working with Dawna. Sure, she'd taken a risk back there in the village square, but she had a compassion that every cop needed. A way of seeing the human side of the situation. And a natural intuition worth admiring.

  When she pulled back her hand a bit quicker than he did, he felt his admiration stretch and snap back at him like a fat rubber band. He glanced up at her, finding her expression wary before she moved her own gaze around, anywhere but at him.

  Trust me, Dawna.

  Hell, why should she? He'd been given the authority to pull her off her assignment, even going so far as to say that, then pulling back, claiming it was a lie.

  Hadn't he treated her badly enough? He'd taken that authority because he didn't want it to fall on someone else who would use it far more arbitrarily.

  Crap, he'd come here to see her, but also to ensure the embassy's security wasn't compromised. That should be his first priority, but she was damn good at her job and he should be giving her the chance-

  "I'll be right back," he muttered.

  Tay sprinted the short distance to the car, thankful that the cold, violent storm doused him. He was a bastard for even considering hurting Dawna again by pulling her from her assignment here.

  Boy, he had to get them out of there, he thought, doing a fast security check of the car. Back to the city as fast as possible. Back to the embassy, where safety was cut and dried and easy to manage.

  When he returned, he found her on her cell phone giving the ambassador a brief report. Then she paused, looking grim. A moment later, she hung up.

  "The ambassador hadn't called the policia, yet."

  "But?" Tay lifted his eyebrows, waiting for the bad news he knew was coming.

  "But Marconi told him the back roads up here are dangerous when they're wet. They wash out easily. He's suggesting we wait here until tomorrow."

  Stay the night here? "Before we leave?"

  "It might not be the ideal solution, but it's the safest, I'd say. I don't like it any more than you-"

  "What about the doctor? How will he get back?"

  Startled, Dawna peered at him. "I imagine he'll spend the night at the church."

  "I'll go and check."

  "Damn it, Tay, stay put until the rain eases. No one's going anywhere in this storm, so you don't need to, either."

  "The road can't be washed out this easily. Let's go."

  He threw open the small, short door. He could see through the sheets of rain that splattered in at them the back bumper of the car. It was no lightweight vehicle, weighing about seven thousand pounds. A short cloud burst wouldn't drive it off the road.

  Dawna grabbed his arm before he could flee. "Let's at least stay here 'til the rain eases."

  Tay felt the heat from her hand penetrate deep into his wet. If he turned, he knew he would be only inches from her lips. He'd kiss her then, whether she wanted to be kissed or not. He'd ignore any protests simply to sate a desire that had burned inside of him for so long, he was sure it would never be quenched.

  He would not turn.

  He steeled himself. "We're leaving. Now, before the roads do wash out. We'll report to the policia as soon as we get back, and
they can send the coroner out to get Cabanelos."

  Then he plunged himself into the torrential rain.

  Gritting her teeth, Dawna thrust herself into the storm, refusing to abandon Tay. Like it or not, he was her partner right now, and regardless of whatever demons dogged him, they needed each other. Yes, it was unnerving enough to know that Cabanelos had not survived the night, and she certainly didn't care to spend the next few hours trapped in the dead man's tiny house.

  Trapped. Was that what Tay felt? It was almost as if panic fed his decision to leave, which was strange. He was a police officer. He wouldn't panic.

  So why this behavior?

  She slammed the door behind her. The cold, wet snow hit her face. Maybe it was a good thing she had no one to rely on. It made it easier to rely on herself. And she'd done just fine all her life.

  She scrambled into the car and hauled the passenger door shut with both hands. Tay had already cranked up the heat. The wipers beat furiously across the windshield, but did little to clear their vision.

  "You're insane, Hastings. Absolutely insane. What was wrong with staying the night there, or at least until the rain let up?"

  "I'm afraid of ghosts."

  "Bull. You ran away. That's all."

  "Yeah, that's it." Tay set his mouth into a thin line and gunned the engine. The car turned around.

  Dawna buckled her seat belt. "And you don't have a license to drive in this country."

  "Throw me in jail when we get back to the city."

  She ignored his last comment. "And I guess we needn't bother checking the car out, either."

  "Explosives don't like rain." His remark was as acerbic as the previous one. Frustrated that Tay felt the need to act this way around her, Dawna sat back and shut up.

  He didn't want to be alone with her. The urge to swear rose inside of her, but she bit it back with furious restraint.

  The air from the vents blasted upward, hitting the windshield before skimming the top of her head. All she could smell was skin and rain.

  With gritted teeth, she said, "I ought to do more than just throw you in jail. I ought to put you on the next plane out of here. Wherever it's going."

  Tay glared out the windshield. "I thought you liked tackling things head on. You never shied away from anything on the course."

  "Tackling things head on is one thing. Barreling out into the pouring rain to race down a mud-drenched mountain road in a seven thousand pound car isn't courageous. It's stupid. Look, I didn't want to stay in that cabin all night, either, but running out in this storm isn't the answer, and you know it."

  Tay slowed down as he approached the small plaza. "I'll just tell the priest we're leaving," he growled out.

  "Do you know the word for idiot in Spanish?"

  They pulled up to the front façade of the church. He turned to her, slight confusion creasing his forehead. "No. What is it?"

  "I don't know, either," she answered dryly. "But I bet you're about to find out."

  Tay smirked. "I always wanted to learn another language." He threw open his door. After both scrambled out, they bolted for the church.

  Inside, Dawna grabbed Tay's arm. The priest and another man were up at the altar, but neither was praying. They'd carried Cabanelos' body and stretched it out on the floor in front of the crucifix. A snowy white communion sheet covered it.

  Sadness pervaded the air around them.

  Both men turned when Tay shut the door.

  "Did you get my message?" the priest asked.

  Dawna nodded, advancing down the aisle. Tay remained at the rear. Predictable, she thought. "Are you the doctor?" she asked the other man.

  A weather-beaten man in his fifties, he said, "Si. I am doctor." His accent was stronger than the priest's.

  "Do you have any idea how he died?"

  The doctor turned to the body and shrugged. "Heart attack."

  "Caused by what?" Tay asked.

  Dawna peeked out the corner of her eye. Tay had abandoned his post by the front door and now stood beside her. She hadn't heard him approach.

  The doctor lifted his hands, palms upward, and rattled off something in Spanish. The priest interpreted. "Returning to the mountains. Too much exercise. Even a man who grew up here loses his acclimatization when he leaves."

  "Not something he ate?"

  "Possibly." The doctor looked at her as the priest spoke in English, "You found something at his home?"

  "No," Tay answered. "The usual foodstuffs only. Will you order an autopsy?"

  The doctor laughed. "This not a rich country, señor."

  Dawna knew what he meant. The family would get stuck with the autopsy bill, regardless of whether a criminal offense had been committed or not and if there was no family, the police would be reluctant to order it. That was the way things sometimes worked here. Regardless, the result was that many murders went unsolved. Justice had to be ignored when there were mouths to feed.

  She cleared her throat. "Could you have the body taken to the morgue in Cochabamba? I'm sure my embassy would pay for the autopsy."

  The doctor glanced at the priest, who interpreted it into Spanish. "And his burial?" was asked next.

  Dawna wasn't in a position to offer that much. "What about his wife? Where's she?"

  "He asked for her, but I don't know who she is." The priest shrugged. "She must be from Cochabamba, since he was there so much. I'll try to find out."

  "Did he say anything that could help us discover why he wanted to see Dawna?" Tay asked.

  The priest pursed his lips. "I can tell you nothing of what he said, except I know it won't help with your investigation." Turning his back on them, he knelt down in front of the altar, effectively ending the questioning.

  Tay touched Dawna's arm. "Let's go," he whispered.

  She gaped at him. "We can't leave the body. You know that." Maintaining continuity of the evidence was paramount. They had to stay with it, right through to the autopsy. The only time the body could be left was when it was secured, like a firearm, someplace safe.

  The doctor cleared his throat and said through the priest who didn't even bother to look up, "I will stay with the body." The doctor took out a pad and wrote down his name and phone number, before handing it to Dawna. "And I will bring it to the morgue in the morning. Remember, Señora. The policia do things differently here."

  That much was true. She was certainly out of her jurisdiction and didn't want to step on any official toes here. Not when she was trying to uncover the truth and had already declined to tell the policia about Cabanelos' whereabouts. That was probably why the ambassador had held back calling them, too.

  Tay leaned over and spoke quietly in her ear. "He's right. There's not much we can do here. We should be looking for the wife and figuring out why Cabanelos said Ramos wasn't who he seemed. Those answers are mostly likely down in the city."

  She glanced around the church. As much as she didn't want to go back out into the downpour, even though they were already soaked, she had no desire to stay in the dim, damp church, either. Not with Cabanelos' dead body stretched out in front of the altar, covered in white, as if he was now absolved of all his crimes. She shivered. Considering the way he'd mysteriously died, maybe he hadn't committed those crimes in the first place. But did that mean his killer was here in Cardon Plata?

  She stored a furtive glance at the priest, wondering how much she could trust him.

  No answers tonight, she thought grimly. Right now, the most they could hope for was a decent autopsy. She thanked the doctor, and they left, disappointment and frustration as heavy on her as her wet clothes.

  Outside, the rain and wet snow had yet to let up and they made the quick dash for the car. Tay sprinted out ahead and reached the driver's door first.

  She started the security sweep, but heard Tay yell out, "To hell with that! Get in! No one's around."

  She climbed into the passenger side, not wanting to argue. And she'd even let him drive.

  As long
as he didn't drive off a cliff.

  Tay wasn't sure he was doing the right thing spinning away from the church in the middle of a wild rainstorm. And when he considered the boy's warning that the road had been washed out, he knew for a fact he wasn't doing the right thing. But the priest hadn't reminded them of the road's condition, so perhaps they'd misinterpreted the child's words?

  His foot tramped hard on the accelerator.

  Were his actions because Cabanelos lay dead back there? He'd seen his share of dead bodies, even shoved one off his own frame once during a rather nasty gun battle. No, even he knew he was running away from something far deeper than the death of a suspect.

  But now wasn't the time to identify what that was. The wet snow slashed at the windshield, too much for even the wipers to control as the flakes thickened on the blades. Everything around them was dark, as if the sun had seen the brutality of this storm and set early. The headlights cut wide, dim beams through the downpour. He should pull over. Maybe once they got outside the village...

  "This is ridiculous, Tay," Dawna snapped. "Stop the car!"

  Tay drew in a deep breath, trying to curb the flood of unusual emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. Damn it, he was a seasoned undercover operative. He didn't give into his feelings.

  "Nathan, you would run off to that station in a blinding rainstorm if they called you. Why can't you stay here for once?"

  Tay slammed hard on the brakes, the back end of the heavy car fishtailing for a few frenzied seconds. Automatically, he cut the wheels into the skid and the car lurched through the thick muck to an uneven stop. With his eyes shut, Tay clenched his teeth. His mother's voice died away with the squeal of muddy brakes.

  Again, her voice. What was going on?

  "I didn't mean for you to stop like that." Dawna's tone was dry.

  "It's the mud," he muttered as he shut off the engine. It was time he dealt with hearing his mother's bitter voice. Maybe it was also time to visit the psychologist that was offered to operatives after particularly difficult assignments. He'd refused the offer because he'd heard the MSGU wanted someone to fly down to check Dawna's work.