It had been a long day.
Now it was night.
And raining.
Bard pulled away from Los Ojos Tavern and headed toward Route 4, back in the direction of Valle Grande.
He was feeling pretty good after a couple of celebratory medicinal margaritas.
Then he noticed the lights flashing behind him as he rounded a bend.
The wind held hard for a moment.
The cops were on him almost immediately.
Bard pulled over begrudgingly and watched the lights pulse across the inside of the Civic. Red. Blue. Red again.
Then he looked more closely in the rearview mirror.
Oh, shit.
Those weird-ass cops from earlier.
One of them approached through the rain and stopped beside his window.
Bard rolled it down.
“Can I help you?”
“Yeah. You’ve been drinking? Pulled out of that tavern pretty quick there.”
Shit.
“I had a beer with my dinner.”
“Oh, that’s good.” The cop nodded. “I think we’re gonna do a field sobriety check.”
“Can I ask why?”
“You just openly admitted to drinking.”
“I had my beer over an hour ago. With dinner.”
“You just openly admitted to drinking, so if you could step out of the car.”
Bard stared at him.
“Fine.”
He went through their little games for the next several minutes.
Walk the line.
Turn.
Stand on one foot.
Follow the finger.
Bard did everything they asked.
Finally, the officer nodded.
“Sorry, but you failed the breathalyzer.”
Bard stared at him.
“Wait, seriously? I didn’t even take a breathalyzer.”
“Yeah, no. You failed it. And now we’re gonna have to search your car.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“Yep. You can go sit over there and take a rest.”
What the fuck kind of weird shit was this?
Nonetheless, Bard went and sat on a tree stump along the edge of the forest, rain pouring over him while the officers rifled through his things.
He had a fair amount of stuff packed into the Civic. Hand tools. A few power tools. Blankets. Extra camping supplies. A backup camp stove. Rope.
The cops pulled everything out piece by piece and piled it alongside the road.
Eventually, they found his shitty digital camera.
Then his laptop.
His backpack.
His cell phone.
They put the electronics into the backpack.
“Yeah,” one of them said, “we’re gonna have to confiscate these. They’re connected to an ongoing investigation.”
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“That’s my private stuff.”
“Yeah, but you’re currently detained, so these objects belong to the state.”
Bard stared at him.
“We’re gonna let you go now, though.”
They didn’t say anything else. The officers returned to their car while Bard stood and looked over the wreckage of his belongings.
The passenger window rolled down.
“Don’t go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. And if you put your hands there, get ready to lose a finger.”
The officer smiled.
“Have a great night.”
Somehow, there wasn’t a drop of rain on his black aviator sunglasses.
Bard stood there drenched and confused.
He gathered his soaked belongings, shoved everything back into the Civic, and climbed inside.
Less than a quarter tank.
Just enough.
What a bunch of shit.
But at least he hadn’t gotten a ticket. Or arrested. Or whatever the hell that had been.
Bard started the car, turned on the radio, hit SEEK, and pulled back onto the road.
And into the rain.
In the distance, the police car’s lights came on.
It sped away into the night.
Bard watched it go.
“I’m getting that stuff back.”
He accelerated slowly, keeping well behind them.
Bard pulled the map from the glove box and flicked on the interior light long enough to look it over.
“Okay. There really aren’t that many places you fuckers can be going.”
Ten minutes passed.
He drove by a green Ford Bronco sitting along the side of the road. As Bard approached, whoever was inside seemed to be getting ready to pull out.
Everything had him on edge now.
He glanced toward the driver as he passed.
At least they looked kind of normal.
Hard to tell in the rain and darkness.
With some difficulty, Bard followed the dim flashes of blue and red through the winding hills for another twenty minutes.
Then they disappeared.
“Fuck.”
He leaned toward the windshield, scanning as far down the road as he could.
Nothing.
Bard drove faster, searching the shoulders, the turnoffs, anywhere they might have gone.
Then he caught it.
A flicker of blue.
Deep in the woods.
He slowed.
Red.
There.
Bard pulled the Civic off the road farther up the hill and killed the engine.
Through the trees, he could just make out the police car coming to a stop near a building.
The flashing lights went dark.
For a moment, their dying glow revealed the structure.
It was strange.
Small. Windowless. Bard couldn’t see a normal entrance anywhere. Just a single garage door, which was currently opening.
An intensely bright blue light poured from inside.
Bard watched the two officers walk through it.
The garage door slowly closed behind them.
Darkness.
Bard got out.
He moved carefully through the forest, raising his hands in front of his face to protect himself from branches. Eventually, he crouched behind a large rock within sight of the police car.
He waited.
Nothing.
Bard crept closer and circled the building.
No windows.
No side door.
No back door.
Nothing except the garage.
He returned to the police car.
Slowly, Bard reached for the trunk.
It opened.
They hadn’t even locked it.
He chuckled quietly.
His backpack was inside.
So were his camera, laptop, and phone.
Bard grabbed them.
Beside his things sat a small plastic evidence bag.
ERNIE RODRIGUEZ.
Bard stopped.
Inside was a cell phone.
He stared at it for a moment.
Then, almost absentmindedly, he put the evidence bag into his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.
The garage door started moving.
Bard nearly jumped out of his skin.
He closed the trunk as quietly as he could and sprinted back into the darkness, throwing himself behind the rock.
The garage door continued upward.
Bard watched.
No blue light came from inside this time.
Only the mechanical grinding of the door.
Then a small white light appeared.
A lamp.
Sitting on a desk at the back of the building.
Bard waited for the cops to emerge.
They didn’t.
He looked again.
The building was empty.
Except for the desk.
A chair.
And the lamp.
“What the fuck?”
Bard slowly approached.
He stepped through the open garage door.
There really was nothing inside.
The concrete floor was spotless. No water except for what the storm had blown in through the open entrance.
No wet footprints.
No officers.
No other exit.
Bard looked around.
He had half a mind to camp there.
“All right. I gotta remember to check this place out some other time.”
He stared at the empty room once more.
“This is bizarre.”
Then he got the hell out of there.
Bard drove as quickly as he could back toward his campsite on the edge of Valle Grande.
Thankfully, he had chosen a place that basically no one would find.
Not that that had been the plan when he moved there.
He just liked the feeling of being far away.
Bard parked the Civic, crossed the little bridge, and hurried into the camper.
Once inside, he emptied the backpack.
Laptop.
Cell phone.
Camera.
Everything seemed to be in working order. Nothing appeared tampered with, as far as he could tell.
Then Bard set the plastic evidence bag on the counter.
ERNIE RODRIGUEZ.
He opened it.
Inside was a small smartphone. Android, maybe.
Bard powered it on.
The screen lit up.
He checked the call history.
Nothing.
No calls at all.
Deleted, probably.
Then he checked the messages.
One.
The number attached to it was bizarre. Seventeen digits.
22233344455566677
Bard opened the message.
Bard,
I know you’re going to end up with this. Don’t ask me how. I had to do what I had to do, but I can’t survive against impossible means.
You seem like someone who could probably figure this out. I don’t mean that lightly. I wish I could say more. You’re just gonna have to figure it out as it comes.
By now it’ll be too late, so don’t bother trying to look for me anymore. You gotta find that boy before it’s too late. They’re gonna try to bring him to the temple. You have to get there before it’s gone.
Good luck. I’ll be praying for you.
See you in another life.
Ernie
P.S. Thanks for helping me move back to Questa.
It just wasn’t far enough away, I guess.
Bard stared at the screen.
That was when he remembered where he knew the guy from.
Years ago, he and Ronnie had helped Ernie move. Just some random job Ronnie had picked up. Ernie had paid well and taken them out for drinks afterward at a place in Ranchos de Taos.
Bard hadn’t thought about him in years.
He looked back at the message.
“Wow. What am I supposed to do with this now?”