Chapter 12
Gabe
We ride in silence for the better part of an hour. Izzie quietly nibbles on that pink concoction she bought, while my mind deliberates how I’m going to keep my client safe. Especially in light of the fact that the stalker knows where we’ll be staying in Reno.
Several things puzzle me. One, how is the stalker finding out inside information? Two, why did the stalker reveal they know where we’re staying? Why not have a sneak attack at the resort? Especially considering nothing happened at the first two threatened locations, it feels like Izzie’s pursuer may want to do more psychological harm than physical harm. Intimidate Izzie into changing her plans based on emails filled with innuendos. Well, that may be working, based on Izzie’s defeated, slouched shoulder body language.
When the exit for Montezuma Castle National Monument appears, I pretend not to see it. Izzie didn’t seem that interested in visiting this ancient ruin anyway.
“Wait! You’re going to miss the castle!” my companion shouts when I’m nearly upon the exit. Tires screech as I swing the massive vehicle towards the offramp. We careen down the pavement like an elephant on ice skates, barely coming to a stop at the T.
Izzie puts her hand over her heart. “My goodness! Must you drive like James Bond?”
I ignore the comment. James Bond is one of my movie heroes so aspiring to be like him is not a putdown in my book. The car idles as I debate what to do. Turn right to the castle or go straight and get back on the interstate?
“Our morning isn’t off to the best start, so I was thinking we’d just skip the castle,” I say. Between the disappointing food at the Gas and Grub, the stalker’s latest email, and my grumpy mood, listening to Izzie gripe about looking at old rocks has lost its allure.
“No way! The sign says three miles. After that jaunt to the Gas and Grub, this will be a breeze.”
I grunt and turn the car in the specified direction. Old structures have always fascinated me, so I hope this side trip is worth the effort.
The gravel crunches as we pull into the parking lot where there are exactly two cars—well, three counting ours. This development isn’t surprising considering it’s only 8:30am. The throngs of tourists haven’t had a chance to arrive yet. They’re probably enjoying a delicious breakfast at their hotels, which, in retrospect, is what we should have done.
“This is it?” Izzie squeaks, squinting through the windshield. She sounds skeptical again. So why did she tell us to come?
Waving my hands in Vanna White fashion, I say, “Just look, there’s plenty of parking, a nice little visitor center, and a short walk on a paved path along the bluff where you can look at the ruins.”
She giggles. “Okay, let’s go,” she says with her hand on the door handle.
“Wait! I’ll go first and scout the area.” A bodyguard can never be too careful.
“Gabriel, there’s no one here to harm me other than a park ranger, a roadrunner, and two jack rabbits,” she says nodding towards the wildlife in the adjacent field.
“Regardless, I’ll come around and get you,” I say, leaping out of the vehicle before she can protest. I open her door and assist her out. “Get behind me if anyone seems threatening.”
She snorts and strides off; I have to jog to catch up. The little trail is concrete and well maintained, so despite wearing sandals, Izzie has no trouble navigating up the path at a fast clip. When we get to the informational sign at the base of the cliff, we both stop and tilt our heads back to look up at the structure carved into limestone several feet above us.
“Apparently castle is a misnomer,” Izzie observes. According to the sign, Montezuma Castle is situated about 90 feet up this sheer cliff. It’s a crude abode structure carved into the rock. “A high-rise apartment might be a better description,” she adds.
“Wish I would have known to bring binoculars,” I grumble. We’re never going to be able to see any details from this vantage point.
“You can borrow mine,” a male voice says to my left. My eyes bug out when I see a tall man wearing a national park service uniform standing beside us.
“Where did you come from?!” I blurt, annoyed that my highly trained bodyguard senses didn’t detect his presence. Izzie giggles.
“I saw you drive into the lot, so I followed you.”
I grimace. My bodyguard skills need a lot of work. If he’d been the stalker, Izzie would have been a sitting duck.
“What can you tell us about this fascinating structure, Rick?” Izzie says, her voice sounding sincere. My jaw drops because I think she’s being a bit rude with the Rick comment, but then I notice a nametag clipped to his shirt. Rick Richardson.
We borrow the binoculars as Ranger Rick starts to talk. “These structures were built between approximately 1100 and 1425 CE by theSinaguapeople. It’s one of the best-preserved cliff dwellings in North America,” he says with pride. “Floor space spans across five stories, indicating that the Sinagua were daring builders and skilled engineers. Access into the structure was most likely by a series of portable ladders.”
“How captivating!” Izzie enthuses. “I’ve always had an interest in history.” Wait, what? Rick grins ear-to-ear and his chest puffs out at her compliment. “Why did they build it so high up?” she asks.
“Great question! The height made it difficult for enemy tribes to penetrate the natural defense of the cliff. However, we believe that the main reason the Sinagua chose to build the castle so far above the ground, was to escape the threat of flooding from Beaver Creek.”
He goes on and on, describing what the rooms looked like, but I tune out his dissertation, observing Izzie instead. My heart does a funny flip as I watch her pretty face. She’s listening intently and looks truly interested. Rick isn’t oblivious to her many charms; he looks like he won the lottery because all her attention is focused on him. “...They even used timbers on the ceilings of the rooms as a kind of roof thatching.”
Clearing my throat, I say, “Well, we probably should get going. We’ve got lots of miles to go!”
Two pairs of eyes swivel towards me, both sporting an annoyed expression at the interruption of their cozy conversation.
“I believe we have time to pop into the ranger station and gift shop, Gabriel. Rick says there’s a diorama of what the castle would have looked like when it was in use.” For not being keen about this stop, Izzie sure is invested in learning as much as possible. Her comment about being interested in history was a bit of a surprise, but I’m learning that Izzie is full of surprises.
“Of course,” I say with a shrug. She’ll protest if we don’t stop in, so I may as well be agreeable. Plus I promised her the full tourist experience, and nothing is more touristy than a gift shop.
Ranger Rick grins, rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, then addresses Izzie. “Er, I hate to ask, but given the limo... are you that makeup and skin care guru from YouTube?” he says before we head back down the trail.
The word “guru” makes Izzie’s face light up like a Christmas tree. “I am! Are you subscribed to my channel?”
I’m surprised at the blush filling the buff guy’s face. “I am. Been following your skin care routine for a couple years now,” he says.
Izzie’s eyes scan his face, as do mine. For a guy who looks like he’s in his fifties, he hardly has any wrinkles. Man, I need to start following Izzie’s skin care routine.
“That’s wonderful, Rick! Obviously you’re following the routine perfectly!” she says, clapping her hands together. “I always love bumping into one of my fans.”
Unless he’s the stalker. That thought gives me the excuse I’ve been looking for. I grab Izzie’s arm and propel her down the path, cutting off her gushing over Ranger Rick. “Thanks for the lecture! It was very informative!” Izzie shouts across her shoulder.
“Why the hurry?” she asks.
“What if he’s your stalker?” I hiss.
She waves her hand in a dismissive fashion. “Hiding out here, posing as a park ranger with extensive knowledge about these ruins?” she scoffs.
“He could have memorized their Wikipedia page!” I shout.
The glare she turns on me could peel paint. I have to admit my stalker suspicion sounds silly, but I don’t want to confess that I’m a tad bit jealous over her interest in Ranger Rick.
She darts off down the path and I jog to catch up. “We’ll pop into the ranger station for a few minutes,” I add in a breathless, albeit conciliatory, tone, hoping to smooth over our abrupt departure.
That seems to appease Izzie, and we spend about ten minutes viewing the displays inside the station. She even purchases a small replica of the structure carved into the cliff as a souvenir. When we exit, the parking lot has a few more cars than when we arrived and I see a few groups of people on the trail we vacated earlier. Ranger Rick looks in his element talking at a pair of velour-clad seniors, who in turn look like they’d rather be anywhere than listening to him. At least I don’t have to feel guilty for taking Izzie away. He’s got plenty of work to do.
Once we’re back in the limo, Izzie says, “Thanks for stopping. I get so caught up in my occupation, I forget that I have other interests.”
“Were you serious when you said you’re interested in history?”
A small frown tips her lips. “Yes. I think I might have been a history major if I’d made it through college.”
Wow! I’ve really misjudged her.
She leans her head back, resting it against the headrest, possibly exhausted from that rapid trek down the trail, or Rick’s scintillating lecture, or both.
“Take a nap if you want,” I state the obvious as I pull out of the lot.
She nods. “This was an excellent diversion to forget about the s-t-a-l-k-e-r.” With that comment, she yawns and nods off. Staring at her beautiful face, my heart lurches knowing that I’ll do everything to keep her safe.