Coop … He filled up her senses, like a storm in the desert, like a …
“Natalie.” Kate grabbed her arm in a vice-tight grip, yanking her back to reality. She dragged Natalie to the end of the aisle and around a sale display for vanilla wafers.
“Jeez, Kate. You need to seek help.” Natalie pulled her arm free. “This ice cream craving is making you downright mean.”
“Natalie, listen.” Kate leaned closer, speaking low. “We just passed the diamond killer.”
“Oh, sweet Orphan Annie! Not this again.”
“He’s the real deal. I’d bet your lucky underwear on it.” Kate peeked down the aisle they’d come up.
Natalie crossed her arms. “Bet your own underwear. My lucky ones are off limits.” Luckily they were still up in Deadwood.
“Crud! He’s heading for the cash register.”
“Kate, you need to stop this mad—”
“Come on!” She tugged Natalie to the next aisle, peering down it, and then the next. “There! That’s him in the green T-shirt.”
Natalie looked down an aisle lined with freezers on one side and chips on the other. Sure enough, standing in line to pay was the peroxide buyer. “Yeah, I know, Kate. I passed him, too. Just for shits and giggles, what makes you think that guy is the one? Did he have a limp?”
“Sort of.”
“Please tell me it’s not just that his hair is blond.”
“Did you notice the bandage on his side?”
“Yeah, so? Coop had one too until I took it off.”
“It’s the same area.”
“What area? Same as Coop’s?”
“No, Tank said he slammed into him, ramming the guy’s left side into the workbench and some tools, and then there was blood left on the bench.”
“There can be several reasons for a blond guy to have a bandage on his side.” Such as getting hit with birdshot on the way to an old mine.
“And then there’s his belt.”
“What about his belt?” Natalie had been too distracted by the bandages to notice his belt … well, the bandages and Coop.
“It has the word ‘Calypso’ stenciled on it.”
“The Greek goddess?”
“Calypso was not a goddess—only a nymph. But I’m talking about John Denver’s version, not Homer’s.” Kate started down the aisle, tugging Natalie along. “And I think I saw the tail of a bull.”
Was that some sort of idiom? “I have no idea what that means, Kate.”
“In an Mexican article Ronnie found about the probable diamond killer, there was a mention of a tattoo of a bull on his neck. His hair was partially blocking the tattoo, but I’m almost certain that was a tail and not a snake.” She stopped at one of the freezers and grabbed a half-gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream.
Natalie would like to have a closer look at that tattoo before playing judge and jury on the guy. She glanced at the ice cream. “I thought you just wanted a pint for breakfast.”
“He was also whistling,” Kate told her.
“Whistling what?”
But Natalie had a sinking feeling she knew that answer … Like a storm in the desert, like a sleepy blue … “ ‘Annie’s Song,’ ” she answered her own question. It was the same damned John Denver tune playing in her head right now. She’d heard his whistling, too, apparently, but had Coop on the brain at the time.
“Exactly,” Kate said, handing Natalie the ice cream. “We need to catch him before he escapes. Come on!” Kate towed Natalie toward the cash registers.
Natalie pulled up short at the self-checkout station. “Kate, hold up. Look at me.”
Kate turned. “What?” Her left cheek twitched. Twice.
“You need to stop and take a breath.”
“There’s no time for that.” She dug in her pocket and shoved some wadded bills toward Natalie. “Here, you pay and I’ll follow him out.”
“What? Wait, damn it!” Natalie needed to think this through, but her brain was still cloudy from too much Winnebago smoke and not enough caffeine.
Kate leaned closer. “He’s paying now. We have no time to wait. You get the ice cream and I’ll get the car. Hurry!”
Sputtering, Natalie watched her cousin rush out the doors. The guy in the green shirt wasn’t far behind her.
Mother humper! Natalie had a feeling this morning’s trip to the store was going to end with another stopover at the county jail. Maybe she should call Claire now so that she and Ronnie could be ready with bail money.
“Hey there, sugar.” A guy in an orange road crew vest crowded her from behind. His breath was hot on her neck. His hand brushed over the back of her jeans. “Are you going to buy that ice cream or not? I have cold beer here getting warm.”
She whirled on the guy, her nerves stretched too tight to put up with this ass-touching troglodyte crying about his freaking beer. She nailed him with a nut-shriveling glare. “Take a step back, bitch!”
Whatever he saw on her face made him recoil. He did as told, taking several steps actually.
That was more like it.
Natalie scanned and bagged the ice cream, fed the machine the money, and then raced outside after the crazy pregnant woman.
* * *
Mornings in the desert were Claire’s favorite time of day. The birds sang and tweeted, their whistles and chirps sharp in the cool air. Some of the campers were beginning to stumble outside and warm up in the bright sunshine. The chairs next to her worksite were empty. The old boys must be sleeping still after a late night full of flames and smoke.
Thankfully, nobody had gotten hurt last night besides Coop, and that was only a few scrapes during his escape from the Winnebago. He’d waved off the help of the paramedic who’d arrived with the fire crew in spite of Natalie’s attempt to convince him a checkup couldn’t
