Shadow's Blade, page 15
“No, it was gone by then. I don’t remember seeing anything like it.”
“How long ago did all this happen? When was he killed?”
“It was early September, so it’s been more than a month.”
Something didn’t make sense. If the grandmother was to be believed, and if we were interpreting her yelps correctly, Lucas had the knife at one point. But if Silver-hair stole it weeks ago, why would he still be searching for it? Why would he have ransacked Burt Kendall’s pawn shop? Unless a different weremyste huffed and puffed and blew down Lucas’s house in order to take the blade. Too many questions, and too many fairy tales about wolves.
“Did you or your grandmother see the people who attacked the house?”
“No, we were away at a pow-wow. Grandfather didn’t come.”
Had Lucas’s attackers planned it that well, or had the girl and her grandmother been lucky?
“I’m sorry for all you’ve been through,” I said. “And I’m grateful to you for answering my questions. What you’ve told me has been helpful.”
“So why do you look so confused?”
I laughed. “That’s part of being a PI. Sometimes it takes me a while to sort through everything I’ve learned. But you’ve told me a lot.”
She didn’t say anything, and I couldn’t help noticing that she still had her rifle pointed at my chest, though she was no longer sighting me and her finger was not behind the trigger.
“So are you going to let me go, or are you going to shoot me?”
Grandma yelped a third time.
The girl lowered her weapon. “I guess I’m going to let you go.”
She grinned, and so did I. I nodded to grandma. “Thank you.”
“What will you do when you find the knife?”
“I don’t know yet. I’d like to destroy it. Failing that . . .” I raised my shoulders, dropped them.
“All right.” She sounded vaguely disappointed. “You can go now.”
I glanced down at the Glock. “I’m going to pick that up. Don’t blow my head off, all right?”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” she said, which was a good answer.
I knelt, picked up the pistol by the barrel and returned it to my shoulder holster. The girl and wolf watched everything I did, and when I eased toward the broken doorway, they backed out of my way.
The sun sat balanced on the western horizon, huge and orange, its glow touching the wolf’s fur so that she appeared almost red.
“Be well,” I said, walking to the pick-up. “Again, I’m sorry for your loss.”
They watched me, but neither of them made a sound. I got in, backed the truck around, and started down the dirt road.
Questions and thoughts churned in my head the whole way back to Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. The sun set not long after I cleared the boundary of the Gila River Community, but its glow lingered in the sky for a long time, and soft light clung to the desert hills and saguaros and mesquite trees I passed along the way.
There is something eerie and yet calming about driving on desert roads in twilight. Distances telescope, the eyes play tricks on the mind. I saw few cars or trucks as I made my way back to the monument, but when I did see one, time seemed to slow and then accelerate. Headlights appeared on the horizon as bright and clear as the gibbous moon. But always they were farther away than I thought, so that I felt as though I was standing still. Right up until the other vehicle and my father’s truck reached each other, at which point the lights flashed by with a rush of air that shook the pickup. And then the desert was plunged into relative darkness once more, at least until the next pair of lights winked into view.
All this time I had been convinced that Saorla, Silver-hair, and their allies were after Gracie and her children because of the power they wielded or might one day wield. Jacinto Amaya had led me to believe as much, as had Gracie herself. And I had been all too willing to believe it. Emmy was manifesting abilities no eight year old should have, and based on what I’d seen in the Burger Royale, Gracie was a skilled runecrafter. All things being equal, Saorla would want them fighting on her side in this coming war.
But I knew now that I should have questioned my assumptions long ago. As powerful as Gracie might have been, Saorla had lots of powerful weremancers at her disposal. Thinking about it, I would have guessed that Gracie escaped Silver-hair at the restaurant not because she was stronger than he, but because she was willing to do anything to get away, and he wasn’t willing to kill her. He had to have been holding back, knowing that if she got away then, he would find her again eventually.
Gracie might have been a powerful weremyste, but she wasn’t so strong as to be worth all this effort. And in the same way, all of Emmy’s value right now lay in her potential. Saorla had years to turn the girl to her purposes. Why would she be so eager to take the girl now?
Unless this wasn’t about Gracie and Emmy at all. Unless Saorla was really after the knife.
An attack on the home of an old collector in the middle of nowhere. A double murder at a pawn shop in Glendale. And a remark Kona made in passing the day before when we were arguing about Neil Davett. They had a break-in at their house not that long ago. You want me to arrest him for that, too?
Could the three incidents be related? Was that why Saorla wanted Gracie and the kids? Because she thought that Neil, or even Gracie herself had that knife? Crazy as it seemed, it made no less sense than the idea that she wanted Gracie and the girl in her army.
Just this very morning, Gracie had shed tears admitting to me that the silver-haired weremancer and his friends were after her kids. Had that been an act, or did she really believe it? Neil Davett had been quick to go for his knife the night he followed me from Amaya’s, leading me to believe that he had some dealings with dark magic. But what if he had more involvement with Saorla and the others than I thought? Was it possible that the knife had found its way into his hands? Could he be stupid enough to extort payment or favor from Saorla in exchange for the weapon? Could that have been why Gracie left him?
Too many questions.
By the time I arrived at the monument campground, night had fully fallen, and a hush had settled over the tent sites and RVs. I drove past Gracie’s site as slowly as I could, and was relieved to see the minivan still parked there. Whatever her feelings about me, she hadn’t used my absence as an opportunity to flee. Their site was completely dark, though, and I didn’t dare go near their tent. The last thing I wanted was to be crispy fried by her warding. I crawled into my own tent, set my own wards then slipped into my sleeping bag, and was dead to the world in mere moments.
My cell phone woke me in the morning. I figured it must be Kona, but when I fished the phone out of the pocket of my bomber, which I had once again used as a pillow, I saw Billie’s name and number on the screen.
I flipped it open. “Good morning.”
“You’re alive.” I heard relief in her voice, but also a rebuke. Too late it occurred to me that a good boyfriend would have taken time to contact her.
“Yeah, sorry I didn’t call. Kona brought me in on another case. I wound up driving all over, from Glendale to the Maryvale precinct, and then out to Komatke, before coming back here.”
“Wherever ‘here’ is.”
“Right.”
“Was this another murder?”
I sighed. “I’m afraid so. A guy I knew, actually. I’m not sure I want to say more than that.”
“I understand. You okay?”
“Yeah, thanks. How are you?”
“Oh, fine,” she said, airily. “I’d tell you more, but the NSA is probably listening to my calls, and, well, you know what the blogging business is like. Nothing but intrigue and danger.”
“Well, that’s what drew me to you in the first place. I needed a little excitement in my hum-drum life.”
For a moment neither of us spoke, and I wanted nothing more than to be with her.
“How are you really?” I asked.
“I’m fine.”
Not convincing. “Billie?”
“It’s just . . . It’s harder to sleep when you’re not around. And I . . . I need to shop, but I’m afraid to leave the house.”
“I’m sorry I’m not there.”
“You’re not supposed to apologize, remember?”
“I wasn’t apologizing for . . .” I swallowed the protest, not wanting to start a fight. “I wish I was there. That’s how I should have said it.”
“So when are you coming home?”
“I don’t know. Whenever this is over, I guess.”
“And that will be . . .”
“A while yet, probably. There’s a lot I haven’t figured out. I’ll try to call, but—”
“Sure. Don’t worry about it.”
It was too abrupt. She sounded angry, scared.
I started to tell her again how sorry I was, but stopped myself. “I should go,” she said. “Call when you can. And let me know what I can do.”
“I will. I love you.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
Not the most heartfelt of declarations. I snapped the phone shut, resentful of this job that had taken me away from her, determined to get some answers to all those questions I’d been asking myself the evening before. And yes, I’ll admit it: just a little annoyed with her for making me feel guilty.
I flung myself out of the tent into another cool, clear morning. Gracie and her children were up and eating breakfast. The sound of the little boy laughing tempered my mood a bit. I zipped the tent shut and carried a change of clothes to the nearest restroom. I felt Gracie watching me as I walked past their site, but I ignored her.
She didn’t give me the chance to do the same on the way back. As I neared their site, she stepped out into the road in front of me.
“You got back late.”
“You my mom now?”
Her smile was thin and reflexive. “I suppose I deserved that.”
“I suppose.”
I stepped around her and walked to my site. She followed.
“So I was thinking maybe you’re right,” she said. “Maybe we could use your help.”
“That so?”
“I’m trying to apologize, all right? Could you give me a break?”
I turned so suddenly that she had to stop short to avoid walking into me. “Tell me about the break-in at your house.”
“How did you—”
“I used to be a cop, remember. I still have friends on the job.”
She pushed her hands into her pockets. “The break-in happened after the kids and I left. But from what Neil told me, it sounded like someone went through all of our stuff, the way they would if they were searching for something. A lot of things got broken—picture frames, plates and glasses, some of Neil’s stereo equipment. But they didn’t take much.”
“Did they take anything at all?”
A frown knitted her brow. “I assumed they did. I guess I don’t know for certain.”
“What do you think they were after?”
“I don’t know.”
She took no time to think about it, and though she looked me in the eye as she said this, I didn’t believe her.
“I think you’re lying to me.”
“You don’t know me well enough to make that kind of judgment.”
“They’re going to find it, you know. Something like that can’t stay hidden for long. And whoever has it is going to wind up dead.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She pivoted on her heel and started away from me.
“Did he steal it from them?” I asked, following her now. I didn’t want to use Neil’s name out loud, because I thought the kids would hear. I figured she would know who I meant. “Is that the real reason you left?”
“I told you yesterday why I left.”
“And I’m not sure I believe that, either.”
She halted and faced me, her arms thrown wide. “Why would I lie to you?”
“Because you’re scared. Because you’re in more trouble than you want to admit, and you don’t see a way out. But you think that maybe, if you can simply keep your head down for long enough, it’ll all blow over. And I’m here to tell you it won’t.” I glanced past her toward the kids. Emmy watched me, her expression as hard as her mom’s. “If Neil’s as much a fool as I think he is,” I went on in a whisper, “and he did what I think he did, there’s no running away from this.”
“Neil didn’t do anything wrong.”
She spun away from me again. Once more I wanted to ask her why she was so eager to defend him. But before I could speak, a sound reached me, one that had no business being here, one that stopped me cold.
Gracie halted in mid-stride, and stood stock still in the road, her head canted to the side, as if she was listening for it as well: the dull chop of a helicopter. I searched the sky. She did the same, even as she pulled the Ruger from her pocket. The chopper was still some distance away, and several seconds passed before I managed to pick it out of the featureless blue sky.
“Mommy?”
Emmy and Zach were running toward us, Emmy pulling her brother along by the hand.
“I know, sweetie.” Gracie squatted down and put one hand on Emmy’s shoulder and one on Zach’s. “I need you both to be brave, okay?”
The kids nodded.
“Get back in your tent,” I said. “Maybe if they don’t see us—”
“They don’t need to see us,” Gracie said. “They sense us.”
“Is it Daddy?” Zach asked, squinting up at the sky.
Gracie shook her head. “I don’t think so, kiddo.”
I continued to mark the chopper’s approach. “Well, if we’re not going to hide—”
“I’m going to blow them out of the sky.”
I turned to her. “They could be cops. You don’t want the police after you for killing one of your own. And we’re not even certain they’re here for you.”
“I am,” Emmy said, eyeing me, her expression grave but perfectly composed. “I can tell.”
I didn’t want to believe her, but I did. And the truth was, I thought I could tell, too. Everything about that copter felt wrong. It didn’t belong here, and appeared to be headed straight for us. Not for the monument, but for us in particular. Even the police wouldn’t be that precise.
“My truck then.” I ran to the tent to retrieve my Glock and the Sig Sauer.
“What good—”
“It can deal with dirt and gravel better than your minivan,” I said.
“Okay, let me get the booster seats.”
I gaped at her. “Seriously?”
Gracie’s cheeks shaded to crimson. “Mom moment. Never mind.” She shepherded her children to the truck. “Kids, we’re going in Mister . . .”
“Fearsson.”
“Right. Mister Fearsson’s truck. And this once you’re going to have to ride without your boosters.”
Zach’s eyes went as wide as saucers, and seemingly for the first time since my arrival, Emmy grinned.
“Really?” she asked.
“Really.” To me Gracie said, “I’ll be right back.”
She ran to her site. I helped the kids into the truck. Gracie came back moments later with an old day pack and a huge stuffed animal—a zebra—that looked like it had been through a war or two. She squeezed in next to Emmy and handed the zebra to Zach. He hugged it to his chest like it was a puppy, even though the thing was about as big as he was. Together they looked like something out of a comic strip.
There was no back seat, and not a lot of room up front, but this was an old truck and it wasn’t made with bucket seats. Rather, there was one long seat stretching from door to door. We all fit, though it was snug. I started the truck up, pulled out of my site, and drove around the loop way faster than I should have. As I drove, I put a warding on the pickup, taking care to include the tires.
Zach turned to his mom, panic in his tiny face. “I need blankie, too!”
“This shouldn’t take long, kiddo. Blankie will be fine without you for a little while.”
His face reddened, and even without knowing much about children, I sensed a tantrum coming on.
I reached across them, opened up the glove compartment, and was pleased to find that my dad still had an old pair of Korvette’s brand binoculars in the car.
“Hey, Zach,” I said, handing them to him. “Can you hold these for me and keep an eye out for Gila monsters?”
“What are Gila monsters?”
“Really big lizards. Very cool things to see. They might be on the road.”
“Yeah, okay! Mom, I’m looking for Hee-lo monsters!”
“I heard,” Gracie said. But she was watching me from the far end of the seat, seeming to reappraise me.
“I was a boy once, too.”
Gracie and I both rolled down our windows so that we could listen for the chopper. I glanced up at the sky, but didn’t spot it.
“It’s behind us still,” Gracie said. “Coming in fast.”
At the end of the campground loop, I hesitated, wondering which way to go. The monument roads were scenic, twisting, and slow; if we took one of them, we risked getting stuck behind a camper. But the only other road was the state road leading north, back toward Ajo, or south toward the Mexican border. It was straight as a string, with few turnoffs.
“Ideas?” I asked.
“The mountain drive is rough,” Gracie said. “Lots of up and down. There aren’t many places where a helicopter can set down.”
“Sounds good to me.”
I followed signs to the drive, which was little more than a dirt road barely wide enough for two-way traffic. We hadn’t been on it for two minutes before we found ourselves stuck behind a camper. Fortunately, the driver noticed us and used a turnout to let us pass.
I sped up, and though the road was rough, I was able to cut across an open basin filled with saguaros and organ pipes, making pretty good time. On the far side of the basin, the road split into a one-way loop and began to climb into some rocky hills.
“They’re right over us,” Gracie said, pulling out her Ruger.
“Don’t shoot unless you have to. I’d bet every penny I have that they’re warded.”
