St Kilda Consulting 01 - Always Time to Die

truck,” he said. “As soon as we’re out of sight you can gargle and spit as much as you want.”
    “You’re a mind reader. I’ve always liked that about you.”
    “I’ll remind you of that.”
    He walked with her into the icy air. As they headed for her SUV, the governor’s helicopter leaped up, pivoted around an invisible center, and gathered speed down the valley.
    Carly looked around the ranchland. Houses might be built and abandoned. Cattle might be born and grow and be sold. The valley would be grazed or plowed or left fallow, and the mountains would watch over all of it, unchanging. The land survived. Man didn’t. For all the power the Senator and his wife had wielded while alive, in death little remained but the ranch.
    For the first time Carly began to understand Winifred’s obsession with Castillo land.
    “What?” Dan asked.
    “Just thinking.”
    He waited.
    “Nothing is left of Winifred’s family and their ambitions but the land,” Carly said as they walked toward her SUV. “The ranch is as close to immortality as the Castillos will ever get, and Governor Quintrell has put it up for sale.”
    Dan nodded, started to say something, then thought better of it. Carly didn’t need to know what he already did. Immortality was worth killing for.
    “Come home with me,” he said abruptly. “Leave your SUV here. I’ll bring you back in the morning. I don’t want you to be alone.”
    She started to object, then saw the shadows and urgency in his eyes. Without a word she turned and started walking toward his truck.

QUINTRELL RANCHLAND
THURSDAY NIGHT
35
    THEY HADN ’ T BEEN ON THE ROAD VERY LONG , BUT CARLY KNEW SHE ’ D THROW UP IF Dan’s truck hit one more icy rut. Frantically she lowered the window on the passenger side. They were on the winding part of the ranch road, where it dropped out of the valley to snake along the far side of Castillo Ridge. There was nothing below the vehicle but darkness and nothing above but stars.
    Dan watched her closely. He knew how she was feeling. His stomach wasn’t happy with whatever herbal concoction had been in those cups. He was feeling nauseated and light-headed. If it got any worse, he would pull over and get it all out of his system.
    “Dan?” Carly’s voice was ragged. The world spun crazily. Despite the rush of icy air over her face, her stomach heaved. “Stop.”
    Dan slammed on the brakes without asking why. He didn’t have to. She was pale and sweating, her head wobbling unsteadily.
    Carly managed to get her seat belt off but couldn’t wrap her fingers around the door handle. He dragged her across the center console and out his door. She pushed him away, fell to her hands and knees on the ground, and threw up again and again. Finally she tried to stand. Her knees wouldn’t cooperate.
    “Easy, honey,” Dan said, biting back his own nausea and light-headedness, wanting to help her. Then training kicked in.
    Throw up, fool. You’ve been poisoned.
    He went down in the snow next to her and vomited repeatedly, ridding himself of Sylvia’s good-bye potion. His head spun but his stomach felt better immediately. He scrubbed out his mouth with a handful of snow, spit, and waited.
    No more nausea.
    Carly wasn’t so lucky. She was retching again, swaying even though she was on her hands and knees. He steadied her, held her head, and did everything he could think of to help her throw off whatever had been in the small cup.
    Opium or heroin was his bet. Part of his training had required taking various drugs so that he would know his own limits—or know what was happening if somebody had slipped something into his coffee. When he was finished with that part of his training, he’d wondered why people spent good money to screw up their brain and body.
    Finally Carly stopped vomiting.
    “Better?” he asked her gently.
    She tried to talk. Couldn’t. The world was turning around her. She tried to focus, but her eyes wouldn’t work. She tried to hold on to Dan but her fingers wouldn’t work. All her body wanted to do was sleep, right now, forever.
    Dan’s heart stopped when Carly went slack in his arms. He carried her to the truck, propped her up against the hood, and took her pulse.
    Weak, slower than it should be.
    Same for her breathing.
    Shit.
    Her head thunked against his chest. He grabbed her chin, lifted one of her eyelids, and saw a pinpoint pupil. He opened her mouth. Despite the recent vomiting, her tongue was dry. The color of her