“This way.” A nurse led Sarah and Kelley down a corridor of the trauma unit at Santa Rosa Hospital. Medical machines and carts of equipment jammed the hallway, leaving only a small passageway. The smell of food, wounds and disinfectant pressed in on Sarah, making the air feel thick. She tried not to breathe any more than she had to. She was sure infectious microbes hung in clouds in the overly warm air.
The nurse led them to a private room at the end of the corridor. She opened the door, her face solemn, and held out a hand toward the room. “In here.”
Sarah and Kelley passed into the room. Emilio Diaz lay on the bed, his arms hooked up to tubes and his face covered with an oxygen mask. His mangled body was shielded from view by a sheet and the windings of a dressing that crisscrossed his shoulders like a mummy’s wrapping. Blood loss and trauma had turned his skin as gray as his hair. His eyes were closed.
Sheriff Bradley rose from a plastic chair as Sarah approached the bedside. An elderly priest in a sport coat, checkered shirt and collar stood on the other side, running beads through his fingers, praying.
“He can’t speak much,” the nurse advised, as she unfastened the oxygen mask on Emilio’s face. “His lungs are compromised. If he has the slightest difficulty, put the mask back over his mouth and nose and call for help with this.” She indicated the button next to the bed.
Sarah nodded obediently, since the nurse stared straight at her while giving the instructions. Then the woman left, closing the door and plunging the room into a heavy silence. The priest bent close to Emilio’s head.
“She is here, my son,” he said, his voice quavering but gentle.
Emilio’s eyes fluttered open. He turned slightly, trying to locate Sarah, but he didn’t have the strength to complete the task. The effort seemed to cause him pain, for he let out a dry moan.
Sarah stepped closer to the bed. “It’s Sarah McKee,” she said.
Emilio blinked again but didn’t look at her. “Father, I have sinned,” he whispered. He licked his lips. “I wish to make my last confession.”
The priest moved close to the other side of the bed and took Emilio’s hand.
“Go on, Emilio.”
“I have sinned. But I am not a bad man, father. I never intended to—” He broke off and let out a breath as his body seemed to sink further into the mattress and pillow.
“Never intended to what?” Sarah prodded, not about to coddle Emilio, even if he was on the way out.
“Family honor.” Emilio closed his eyes. “Honor. I want everyone to know. Emilio Diaz is not a bad man.”
“Just tell me if you killed Landon Harris. That’s all I want to hear.”
“It is not so simple.”
“I think it is, pal.”
At her harsh tone, the priest shot her a warning glance. She ignored him.
“Did you kill Landon or not?”
“They stole everything from us.”
“The Harrises?”
“What was rightfully ours.” Emilio struggled for breath and then continued. “But I have got it all back. Like Edmond Dantés.”
“The Count of Monte Cristo?”
“Like him, I will have the last laugh.”
Information fell into place like a Tetris piece crunching down four lines on the screen. Sarah stared at the dying man, instantly making a connection.
“You’re SecondCount Corporation?” It was Sarah’s turn to gasp. “You’re the buyer of Harris Vineyard?”
Emilio coughed and nodded.
“Miss, you’re agitating him,” the priest chastised. “He’s in no condition to be disturbed. He’s trying to make a confession. Before God.”
“He wanted me here, not God,” Sarah retorted. “So let him talk.”
The priest frowned at such blasphemy and shifted, clasping his hands at his waist, with a crucifix swinging in the air at the end of the rosary beads.
“There is a body,” Emilio continued. “At the old winery.”
“No, there isn’t.” Sarah countered. “We found your niece in time.”
“Not her. Another.”
A chill spiked through Sarah, as more Tetris pieces dropped into place, inducing her to stand up straight. Sheriff Bradley edged closer, more interested now as well.
“Marvilla?” Sarah inquired.
“I want her to be buried. Given last rites.”
“Your sister is at the ghost winery?”
“I could never disclose. Never tell. Rose bush.” He coughed again and seemed to lose his final dregs of energy. His once firm mouth sagged open. His breath rattled through his stained teeth.
“Miss, please,” the priest reached across the bed, his palm angled up in protest.
Sarah ignored him. “She died? Giving birth?”
“After,” Emilio rasped. “Afterward.”
“Why was she up there giving birth?”
“No one could know,” Emilio’s eyes opened and fixed on Sarah’s face. His pupils looked cloudy. “Dishonor.”
“You kept Marvilla up at the ghost winery? A prisoner?”
Emilio’s mouth tipped downward. “No choice.”
“No,” Sheriff Bradley said. “That’s wrongful imprisonment, sir. Maybe even manslaughter. You should be in jail.”
“I have been,” Emilio retorted in a bitter whisper. “She was my only sibling. My only family. And the Harrises took her. Just like everything else.”
Sarah and Steven exchanged worried glances. Emilio had shifted all blame to the Harrises. It was the only way he could justify causing the death of his sister.
“Where’s the rose bush?” Steven demanded.
“Barn.” Emilio coughed and then couldn’t catch his breath. Sarah reached for the oxygen mask but held it above his face. Emilio’s desperate eyes found Sarah’s, imploring her to help him breathe, but she held the mask aloft.
“Tell me that you killed Landon Harris.”
“Yes,” Emilio declared, as if her challenge fanned the last ember of his fire. “The snake. Looking for Marvilla. Looking for the child. To ruin everything again.”
“Miss!” the priest exclaimed, trying to wrest the oxygen mask out of Sarah’s hand, but she clung to it tightly, knowing this was her only chance to discover the truth about Landon’s death.
“By ruin, you mean the sale of Harris Vineyard?” Sarah inquired.
“Yes. But I made sure.”
“What did you make sure?”
“I got everything back. Everything.” The sadness drained out of his grimace, changing his face dramatically. The gray color eased, wrinkles relaxed, and a peaceful smile lifted one corner of his thin lips. “Me. I did it for the family. And it is done. At last.”
“Miss!” the priest grabbed for the mask again. “I insist.”
She let the priest pull the mask from her fingers.
“Press the button,” the priest exclaimed. “Press the button! He’s going.”
The old man began his religious ceremony, expecting Sarah to obey him. But she didn’t make a move. Emilio Diaz had killed her friend. He had come up behind a sick, old man and had strangled him with his scarf. He had killed a kind and decent human being out of desperation and revenge—and all for nothing.
Had Landon Harris been approached long ago, he might have been persuaded to partner with Diaz. That was the kind of man Landon had been. But Diaz had never gotten to know the younger Landon Harris. He had remained distant, wanting everything that Landon possessed and more. He had spent his entire life making sacrifices and living like a pauper to get the original Rancho Diaz back. He’d even sacrificed his own sister.
Sarah didn’t feel sorry for the guy. He was a murderer. Plain and simple.
“She’s going to get everything, pal,” Sarah commented, while Emilio’s chest rose and fell as he struggled for breath. “Darlinda’s going to get everything.”
The oxygen mask rotated as he turned to stare at her.
“She’s your blood. We’re going to prove it. Half Diaz. Half Harris.”
Emilio shook his head in protest, his eyes burning.
“Aye. And maybe she’s the answer. The end of the hatred between your families. She might have been the answer, all along.”
Emilio shook his head again, refusing to accept such a compromise. Then he sank back. His fingers scrabbled the sheet tucked around his abdomen. He mumbled something in Spanish, so loud they could hear the muffled word beneath the plastic mask.
Sarah lifted the contraption away.
“El Nahual!” Emilio gasped, staring at the far wall. “He is here.” His eyes flared in fear. “No, El Nahual!”
For a moment, Emilio raised his head to gape at the wall at the foot of the bed. Then he slumped back, all tension in his body gone. His eyes rolled under their lids and went still.
Sarah paused, holding the mask above his nose as she waited for him to explain what had just terrified him.
But Emilio Diaz would never speak another word.
* * *
“You don’t need to go back to the ghost winery,” Sheriff Bradley remarked as they left the trauma unit. “But Kelley and I have to.”
“Tonight?” Sarah asked, surprised. It had been a long day for everyone, especially her and Sheriff Bradley.
“There’s still enough light to dig for a body.”
“Yeah,” Kelley put in. “The sun never sets on crime, you know, Sarah.”
“Guess we’ll have to take a raincheck on the walk then.”
“Job always comes first.” Kelley shot a frustrated look at the sheriff.
Sarah wondered if the therapy Kelley had mentioned earlier concerned her boss. She wouldn’t be surprised. The man could rub people the wrong way without even moving.
They walked out to the parking lot where Steven had parked in the shade. Kelley’s vehicle was two cars away. Steven pulled the fob out of his pocket but turned back to face the two women. “I’ll get the coroner unit up to the winery, Miller. You take Sarah home. Then meet me up at the winery as soon as you can.”
“Right, boss.”
“And be armed, Miller, in case that cat is still hanging around.”
“For sure.”
Sarah noticed the windows were rolled partway down in the sheriff’s SUV. It was not like Steven to leave his vehicle unsecured like that. She took a closer look and was surprised to see the silhouette of a dog head behind the tinted window in back.
“Is that Caesar?” She pointed at the vehicle.
“Yeah, he’s with me. We can use his nose up at the winery.”
“Wow. Are you thinking of keeping him, Steven?”
“It’s a strong possibility.” Steven glanced at the black nose now sticking out of the window. “He’s a good boy.”
“If you say so.” Sarah shook her head, still doubtful. On the other hand, maybe the scary, determined dog and the serious, by-the-book lawman belonged together. They suited each other.
“Mind if I call Ann Woods?” Sarah pulled open the passenger door of Kelley’s vehicle. “And let her know about the confession? I’m sure she’s in a terrible state.”
“Wait until we know Emilio was telling the truth,” Sheriff Bradley answered. “But it’s likely that all charges will be dropped against her.”
“Let me know what you and Kelley find up there, then, as soon as possible.”
He waved back at her but didn’t respond.
Sarah swung into Kelley’s SUV.
“If he doesn’t,” Kelley started the vehicle. “I will.”
“I’m serious.” Sarah reached for her seatbelt. “I don’t care how late it is, either.”