Chapter 5
F light delays in LA kept Callie from arriving when planned.
Instead of landing and driving straight to Lyda’s, she ended up staying the night at an airport hotel in Albuquerque.
Now, as the sun hung bright and unforgiving in the wide-open eastern sky, she navigated her rental car north toward Santa Fe.
Lyda lived twenty miles north of the iconic town, but she wanted to pick up thank-you gifts, and Lyda had also asked if she wouldn’t mind stopping by the art store to collect some supplies they had on hold for her.
By the time Callie pulled up to her host’s house, it was nearly noon.
She knew, both from Elizabeth and from experience, that Lyda didn’t prioritize food, so she’d also grabbed a couple of ready-made meals and some food staples from the local co-op.
Having skipped breakfast, she was starving—or as starving as she got these days—and her mind turned to the sandwiches she’d make for lunch as she opened the car door.
Anu, Lyda’s black-and-white mutt, darted up as Callie climbed out.
Dropping her purse on the seat, she knelt and gave the large dog a good scratch behind his ears, his long silky fur tangling in her fingers.
Her parents had never allowed any pets, and while Callie wasn’t as comfortable as someone who’d grown up with them, she loved both cats and dogs.
She murmured nonsense words as Anu licked her cheek, then nuzzled into her chest, his warm, happy presence lifting Callie’s spirits. Then, as if hearing something Callie didn’t, Anu leaped back and darted toward the house, spinning with an exciting yip.
“Callie,” Lyda said, emerging from the shadows of the deep patio.
“It’s good that you are here,” she added, coming toward her.
She’d lost weight since Callie had last seen her, a feat for a woman already on the petite side.
She’d also aged, but that didn’t surprise Callie.
Lyda and Liza had been close, and although Lyda refused to get sucked into the dark side of grief, loss shadowed every line on her face, every black strand of hair turned gray, every heavy step.
“It is,” Callie said, wrapping her arms around the tiny woman she considered more of a mom than her biological one. Anu paced around them, the herding part of his DNA happy she and Lyda stood close together.
“Your art things are in the trunk,” Callie said. “If you want to grab those, I’ll bring in the food. I can come back for my things later.”
Lyda nodded and stepped away. A few minutes later, Callie set the grocery bags on the thick, heavily scarred wood countertop and began unpacking as Lyda sorted through the items from the art store on the dining table.
“Did they get it all?” Callie asked, watching Lyda examine a deep blue powder.
Lyda nodded but didn’t otherwise respond.
Relief replaced Callie’s worry. Lyda hadn’t been clear what her order contained, so Callie hadn’t been able to confirm whether they’d included everything.
She didn’t like disappointing people, especially not Lyda, and she would have hated if something had been missing or wrong.
With that concern eased, she focused on her task at hand.
Setting aside what she needed to make sandwiches—along with the bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos Lyda loved—she gathered the items that needed refrigeration and carried them to the ancient appliance.
Pulling the handle, she swung the door open then eyed the sparse contents, pleased she’d erred on the side of buying more rather than less.
After storing the cold items and stacking a few of the prepared meals in the tiny freezer, she found homes for the nonperishables, then grabbed two plates from the open-faced cabinets.
Lyda continued sorting through her art supplies, but Callie knew what she liked on her sandwich, so didn’t bother interrupting to ask. As she pulled together the vegetarian fillings, she inhaled. Familiar scents of lavender and desert sage soaked into her body and soul, soothing and warm.
The small house looked the same as it had the first time she visited ten years ago.
Not that she expected it to be different.
At over two hundred years old, the traditional adobe home hadn’t changed much in centuries.
At some point, someone had added electricity and plumbing, but other than that, the structure, with its thick walls, wide-planked floors, and small square windows, was as original as the day it was built.
A fireplace filled one corner of the rectangular central room that comprised the kitchen, dining, and sitting areas.
Behind the kitchen, on the north side of the house, lay two bedrooms and one bathroom.
Squat, square, and small, it was a far cry from the house Callie had grown up in, but with its colorful art decorating the walls, the handmade throw rugs scattered across the floor, shelves packed with books and sculptures, and well-worn, minimal furniture, it felt more like a home than hers ever had.
“Lunch is ready,” she said, cutting Lyda’s sandwich before doing the same to hers. Lyda looked up, blinked as if remembering what food was, then nodded.
“I’ll take these to the studio, then we can eat outside,” she said, gathering her things and disappearing through the back door.
While the house was original, Lyda’s brother had helped her build a new studio behind it, adding walls connecting the two structures, creating an enclosed courtyard.
Like Lyda’s art, the desert garden she tended in that small space managed to be practical, evocative, and comforting all at the same time.
Aside from being in front of the fire on a cold night, the garden was Callie’s favorite part of Lyda’s house.
Anu followed Callie out as she delivered the food to a small tile-topped table sitting under a paloverde tree.
By the time she returned a second time carrying two glasses of water, Lyda was exiting her studio empty-handed.
Callie smiled as she watched Liza’s mom walk across the garden.
No one would guess that the woman dressed in paint-smeared baggy jeans and a well-worn red-and-gray flannel over a black cotton T-shirt torn at the collar was the renowned artist whose work was displayed in many of the most prestigious museums around the world.
“Oh, Cheetos,” Lyda said with a smile, taking the other seat at the table. “You always were my favorite of Elizabeth’s friends.”
Straddling the world between her Pueblo life and her dreams of being a federal agent, Elizabeth hadn’t had many friends, not true ones.
During their time at the academy, she’d been a class favorite among their peers—her ability to lighten a mood, make a well-timed joke, and tease a smile out of people brought a welcome, and often much-needed, moment of levity to their work and studies.
But as Elizabeth often told her, being able to make people laugh didn’t make them her friends.
She also liked to point out that helping their peers study and pass exams—Callie’s “superpower”—didn’t either.
Maybe that’s why the two of them had become friends in the first place—real friends. They’d both been needed—Elizabeth for her humor and Callie for her brains—but not ever really wanted.
“What can I do to help?” Lyda asked before taking a bite of her sandwich.
Callie hesitated. She’d told Lyda she needed help, but not with what. Intuitive and smart, she would have figured out it had something to do with the thumb drive Elizabeth had left her, but that didn’t mean Callie wanted to talk about Elizabeth’s death.
“Calypso,” she said, making Callie smile.
No one used her given name, not even her parents, who’d chosen it.
Why they named her something they never intended to call her, she had no idea, although most likely, it had been some power play by her father.
Regardless, both she and her sister were named after Greek nymphs—Daphne, a naiad nymph associated with wells, springs, and rivers, and Calypso, the sea nymph who hid Odysseus from the world for seven years.
Picking up a Cheeto, she exhaled and plunged in.
“It’s the thumb drive you sent me that you found in Liza’s belongings.
I’ve had it for more than three years, and the only thing I’ve managed to glean from it are the names Nolan and Quayle.
Her files look to be written in code, but I can’t figure out what type of code, let alone a cipher for it. ”
“You think I can help?” Lyda asked, sitting back in her chair, holding half a sandwich.
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “But if you could have a look, I’d appreciate it. Liza and I were close, but you two were closer. No one knew how her brain worked better than you.”
“Yes, of course, I will help. Why now, though? As you said, it’s been over three years.”
She shifted a Cheeto around on her plate, turning the tip of her finger an alarming red-orange.
“A few weeks ago, while looking into another case, I discovered something interesting about the Nolan family. I followed the lead but it went nowhere. Not yet. I need more information to convince that lead to talk with me. Which brings me back to the drive.”
Lyda studied her, then nodded. “After lunch, then. And you will also tell me more about this lead.”
Callie grimaced but nodded. She’d known there’d be a price to pay for coming to Lyda.
Lyda inclined her head, as if acknowledging what she asked in return wasn’t a small thing. Then she smiled. “I hope you remembered I don’t have a computer.”
Callie grinned back. “Good thing I brought two.”