No One to Trust - Iris Johansen [40]
Galen met her gaze. “Yes, watch him, Mama. He won’t hurt himself. The mat will cushion him. That’s all it’s meant to do.” He turned back to Barry. “Okay, now we try a handspring.”
“Are you watching, Mama?”
She moistened her lips. “I’m watching, Barry.”
She watched him for another ten minutes. She watched him do somersaults. She watched him do handsprings. She watched him collapse into giggles when Galen slyly raked his ribs and tickled him.
Galen finally set him on his feet and gave his behind a swat. “Enough of this horseplay. We’ll put in another session tomorrow. Go wash your hands and get into the kitchen. We’ve got work to do.”
“I know. Omelettes,” Barry said as he ran to Elena. His cheeks were scarlet and his dark eyes glittered with excitement. “Did you see me? I did the last handspring by myself.”
“You were wonderful.” She kissed his forehead. “A regular acrobat.”
“I like this place.” He ran down the hall toward the bathroom.
“Let’s get it over with fast.” Galen got to his feet and reached for a hand towel draped on one of the machines. He dabbed at the perspiration on his forehead. “Barry will wonder where I am.”
“You’re an interfering bastard.”
“Yes. I told you I didn’t like clouds hovering over me.”
“I wanted to throw up when I saw Barry on that mat.”
“It was chancy.” He wiped the back of his neck. “I decided I had two choices if I didn’t want to see you tearing yourself apart. I could hang up the mat on the wall with a picture of Chavez pinned to it. Then we’d all take turns with darts—or maybe bowie knives—until the mat was no more. It would have been like the effigies I heard the Allies had of Hitler and Tojo during the Second World War. That plan really appealed to me, but it might have been too violent with Barry around.” He tossed the towel back on the machine. “So I decided to replace a bad memory with a good one.”
“It wasn’t good.”
“But it wasn’t a nightmare. You liked seeing Barry happy.” He started for the door. “You may not have felt defeated by your bouts with Chavez, but I think the rape was different. That got to you. But you’re wrong. What happened on that mat wasn’t a defeat for you; it was really a final victory. Chavez didn’t mean to do it, but he gave you the grand prize. He gave you Barry.” He passed her and went down the hall. “I’ve promised Barry a workout every morning. I think he’d like you to be there. Can you do it?”
She wanted to say no. She had been filled with dread and horror and the desire to snatch Barry and run away with him. Those minutes had seemed to last forever.
But they hadn’t been impossible to endure. It might get better.
Replace bad memories with good.
“I can do it.”
“The telephone is in the name of Desmond Sprull, phony address in Las Vegas,” Gomez said. “We can’t trace Galen by the number.”
“And since you don’t know where he is, you can’t get close enough to put a trace on his calls,” Chavez said. “It’s a wonder you were even able to get that number.”
“We’ll find him.” He paused. “He has a friend, John Logan. We could possibly discuss the matter with him.”
“You mean force the information out of him? Logan has influence in high places. All we need is to have the government making noise. Our informant tells us the DEA is raising enough stink about the death of those agents at the vineyard.” Chavez paused. “But he might be in contact with Galen. Bug his office and his home. Let’s see what we can come up with.”
“Logan has good security. We may not—”
“I don’t want to hear about problems. I want to hear about answers.” He pressed the disconnect button.
He looked down at the telephone number on the pad in front of him. Technology was a wonderful thing. The conquerors of old had their weapons and Chavez had his. He could dial this number and be talking to Galen in seconds. A phone call might be all it would take. Offer most men enough money and they would give Chavez anything he wanted. Galen didn’t have that reputation, but it was only a matter of finding which button to press.
He wouldn’t dial that number. Not yet. Galen had interfered