999_ Twenty-Nine Original Tales of Horror and Suspense - Al Sarrantonio [192]
“I don’t anticipate trouble,” Romero told the burly trooper as they stood outside their cars and watched the Rio Grande flow through a chasm beneath them. “But you never know.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“Just park at the side of the highway. Make sure I come back out of the farm.”
“Your department didn’t send you up here?”
“Self-initiative. I’ve got a hunch.”
The trooper looked doubtful. “How long are you going to be in there?”
“Considering how unfriendly they are, not long. Fifteen minutes. I just want to get a sense of the place.”
“If I get a call about an emergency down the road …”
“You’ll have to go. But I’d appreciate it if you came back and made sure I left the property. On my way to Santa Fe, I’ll stop at the general store in Dillon and leave word that I’m okay.”
The state trooper still looked doubtful.
“I’ve been working on this case a long time,” Romero said. “Please, I’d really appreciate the help.”
The dirt road was just after a sign that read, TAOS, 20 MILES. It was on the left of the highway and led down a slope toward fertile bottomland. To the north and west, ridges bordered the valley. Well-maintained rail fences enclosed rich, black soil. The Parsonses were certainly hard workers, he had to admit. With cold weather about to arrive, the fields had been cleared, everything ready for spring.
The road headed west toward a barn and outbuildings, all of them neat-looking, their white appearing freshly painted. A simple wood frame house, also white, had a pitched metal roof that gleamed in the autumn sun. Beyond the house was the river, about thirty feet wide, with a raised footbridge leading across to leafless aspen trees and scrub brush trailing up a slope.
As he drove closer, Romero saw movement at the barn, someone getting off a ladder, putting down a paint can. Someone else appeared at the barn’s open doors. A third person came out of the house. They were waiting in front of the house as Romero pulled up and stopped.
This was the first time he’d seen three of the brothers together, their tall, lean, sandy-haired, blue-eyed similarities even more striking. They wore the same denim coveralls with the same blue wool shirts underneath.
But Romero was well enough acquainted with them that he could tell one from another. The brother on the left, about nineteen, must be the one he had never met.
“I assume you’re Matthew.” Romero got out of the car and walked toward them, extending his hand.
No one made a move to shake hands with him.
“I don’t see Luke,” Romero said.
“He has things to do,” John said.
Their features were pinched.
“Why did you come here?” Mark asked.
“I was driving up to Taos. While I was in the neighborhood, I thought I’d drop by and see if you had any vegetables for sale.”
“You’re not welcome.”
“What kind of attitude is that? For somebody who’s been as good a customer as I have, I thought you might be pleased to see me.”
“Leave.”
“But don’t you want my business?”
“Matthew, go in the house and bring me the phone. I’m going to call the state police.”
The young man nodded and turned toward the house.
“That’s fine,” Romero said. “I’ll be on my way.”
* * *
The trooper was at the highway when Romero drove out.
“Thanks for the backup.”
“You’d better not thank me. I just got a call about you. Whatever you did in there, you really pissed them off. The dispatcher says, if you come back they want you arrested for trespassing.”
“… the city’s attorney,” the police chief said.
The man’s handshake was unenthusiastic.
“And this is Mr. Daly, the attorney for Mr. Parsons,” the chief said.
An even colder handshake.
“Mr. Parsons you’ve definitely met,” the chief said.
Romero nodded to John.
“I’ll get right to the point,” Daly said. “You’ve been harassing my client, and we want it stopped.”
“Harassing? Wait a minute. I haven’t been harassing—”
“Detaining the family vehicle without