Free Short Cut to Santa Fe by Medora Sale

and Samantha called the state troopers.
    She had explained that their children had caught the six o’clock bus from the airport, but they weren’t waiting for her at the intersection where she expected them to be. It didn’t occur to her to mention that it was an Archway Tour bus. Or, in fact, which airport she was talking about. The troopers instituted inquiries at the Albuquerque airport and headed out to the intersection to look for the twins.
    The hotelkeeper in Taos whose seven previously booked rooms were not being occupied that night raised no alarm either. The reservations had been canceled long before the sun had set. He wouldn’t have called in Linda to work on her night off if he had known earlier, but what the hell. Archway would pay anyway.
    Kate Grosvenor woke up with a start. A noise had startled her—a car honking, an animal cry, someone speaking. She didn’t know. She was only aware of her misery. Her neck, her head, her shoulder, her arm were all throbbing hideously. Somewhere within that pain, her stomach must have been growling with hunger, but its feeble cry was lost in the greater demands of the rest of her body. Her mouth was thick and sour-tasting with sleep. She forced herself out of the chair and stumbled over to her suitcase. She took out the Scotch, located her pills after much searching through her bag, shook two into her hand, poured herself a half-glass, and used it to wash down the painkillers.
    With a gasp of pain as her upper body hit the quilted coverlet a little too hard, she curled up on the bed beside her luggage and plunged once more into oblivion.
    It was clear who was in charge. Gary stood beside the driver’s seat, apparently unarmed, looking at John and Harriet with interest. His stance and air of authority marked him as the leader. The other was on the step up to the passenger area, clutching the weapon awkwardly and nervously. It was not a good vantage point for firing on them, and for a moment—just one—John considered the possibility of flight.
    Gary motioned the children onto the bus first. They mounted the steps, never taking their eyes off the man with the weapon. John grasped Harriet firmly by the arm, in case unwise thoughts of flight were running through her fast-moving brain as well, and followed the children.
    Gary looked nonplussed at the sight of what looked like a perfectly ordinary family. Like someone who had ordered eggs in a restaurant and had been handed a live chicken. “Who in hell are you?” he said. “And why were you following us?”
    â€œWere we following you?” Sanders said cautiously.
    â€œOf course we were, darling,” said Harriet, in cloying tones. “You were asleep again and didn’t notice. He always falls asleep in cars, don’t you, dear?” She turned to Gary and went on earnestly. “We were the other people at the airport, remember? You must have seen us. Someone said your bus was going to Taos and that’s where we’re going and I thought you’d know the way. We’ve just been following right along behind. You were so easy to spot. The children made a game of it. I did wonder when you turned onto this road, but I just assumed it was a short cut.”
    â€œCut the crap, lady. I want to know what you’re after. And give me that thing,” he added, reaching for the flashlight. “See if they’re carrying anything, Wayne, and then put them back there with the rest of them. And turn those goddamn lights on again.”
    Wayne paused in the face of so many instructions.
    â€œGive me the rifle. Put the fucking lights on,” said Gary. “Then check them for weapons and put them back with the passengers.”
    Wayne stumbled through the first two instructions; then with avid clumsy fingers he ran his hands over Harriet’s body. Slowly and with great thoroughness. “Nothing,” he said at last, disappointed.
    â€œThen get on