With any luck, Teddy should be in the shop at this time of day. Hoping for the best, Mariah shimmied up the pine tree leaning over the fence and dropped in on a tea party. The kids looked up expectantly from their plastic plates on a rotten stump. The furry monster they called a dog flapped his tail.
Breathing easier, Mariah added the granola bar from her pocket to the kids’ feast and entered through the kitchen door, calling a greeting as she did.
The sooner she solved these murders, the faster the journalists would leave town—if they didn’t think they had an even juicier story. If anyone discovered who she really was. . . The pain of losing all her hard-won friends and her only home would be too excruciating to bear.
“Who are we avoiding today?” Teddy called cheerfully from the front room.
The shop was blissfully empty of customers as Mariah passed the once-haunted stairs to enter the front room. “Damned journalists are everywhere. We need to solve murders so they’ll all go home.”
“I don’t want them to go home!” Teddy held up one of her new creations—a brilliant sapphire bracelet. “They like mentioning that famed jewelry artist Theodosia Devine has recently opened a shop in the trendy up-and-coming artist community of Hillvale. They have a way with words, don’t they? Business is building nicely.”
Of course. The whole point of the weekend art walk was to attract media attention. Mariah scowled. “Then I may need to take a hike. My fame isn’t salable, except maybe on the black market.”
“Do tell,” Teddy insisted, gesturing at a chair. “I’ll fix coffee.”
“What you don’t know, can’t hurt you.” Mariah gestured at the open laptop behind Teddy’s desk. “May I borrow your computer?”
“Chief Walker said you weren’t allowed to touch them,” Teddy said warily. “How much trouble will I be in?”
“Kurt won’t let Walker yell at you. I want to start a search on commune members who knew Daisy. People have already identified three more of the mural disciples. I know it’s an insane approach, but it’s all I’ve got.”
Teddy grimaced. “Anything to do with computers is insane. Can you fix my malfunctioning website while you’re in there?”
Mariah beamed. “In the blink of an electron.”
Keegan let his eyes adjust to the sunshine outside the crevasse. He already had his hand on his knife, but he didn’t have any need to use it if the other man wasn’t armed.
The shadow blocking the entrance was shorter than he was, but stocky enough to have muscle. Given that Keegan had one injured arm, it would be a fair-enough fight.
“We have the sheriff’s permission to search for evidence,” he said slowly. “We were told he had the landowner’s consent. Who are you?”
“This land does not belong to any one man,” the shadow insisted with a growl. “You do not have my permission.”
Harvey leaned around Keegan. “Hector? What the hell are you doing here?”
Keegan rolled his eyes. Identifying a potential killer was a certain path to the graveyard.
“Harvey? That you, son? What the hell are you doing back here risking your precious fingers?” The shadow stepped aside to let them pass.
“Don’t give me that son business, and I’m not risking anything.” Harvey stepped out from behind Keegan to pound the muscular older man on the back. “I thought you were in Montana.”
“The family is having a powwow in Monterey. Why are you not there?” The short man called Hector grabbed tall Harvey in a rough embrace. “Your abuela misses you.”
Harvey twisted free. “They miss free concerts,” he scoffed. “Keegan, this is my uncle, Hector Menendez. Hector, Keegan is a geologist helping the sheriff solve the murder up here.”
Harvey was a Menendez? Keegan needed more time to process the knowledge, but when Hector stuck out his hand, Keegan had no choice but to shake it.
“I heard about that—one of the old communists got shot, right? Good riddance to the lot of them.” Hector’s grip was tough.
Keegan’s was tougher. The shorter man broke first. Keegan generally disliked physical one-upmanship, but he could play as well as anyone.
“Not communists,” Harvey said in scorn. “It’s that kind of thick-headed ignorance that holds us back.”
“It’s lack of respect for your elders that holds you back,” Hector retorted. “I went to college. I know what a communist is—doomed, just as those rich farts were. So how is a pianist helping a geologist?”
A pianist? Keegan glanced at Harvey’s long, slender fingers and realized why the musician had said he wasn’t a fighter. But what was he doing in Hillvale, where no piano existed?
“I’m just a guide,” Harvey said dismissively, not mentioning his crystal affinity. “And a mule.” He gestured at his back pack. “How did you get in here?”
Hector shrugged. “Horse. Borrowed from the resort stable. The north path is still sound. How can rocks solve a murder?”
Keegan figured this was where he stepped in with fabrication. “We’re looking for bullet holes and hoping to discover a reason for Thompson and the killer to be down here.”
Hector screwed up his broad brown visage until it wrinkled even more. “The hippies used to come down here, I’m told, probably prospecting. That’s what everyone seeks—gold.”
“The geology is all wrong for gold,” Keegan said truthfully. “There are some trace minerals but not enough to mine.”
“Good to know. I’ll relay that to the family. They’re hoping to decide this week whether to sell the land or keep it.” Hector started walking toward a sturdy palomino cropping dried grass. “Harry, you come down, kiss your abuela. You would be nothing without her.”
Harvey waved him off while muttering curses under his breath.
“Abuela?” Keegan asked. “You are avoiding your grandmother?”
“I am avoiding the whole damned family. Listen, don’t let anyone know I’m related. The speculation about that freaking land is rampant enough and has nothing to do with me. I’m too far down the totem pole.” Harvey started up the path to the ridge and the ATV.
“Isn’t Sam’s mother married to one of your family?” Keegan tried to piece the family puzzle, but it was impossible. “Or is that a different Menendez?”
“We’re all related, one way or another. We’re a huge clan, and we keep up with each other. The way the deed is set up, we all own infinitesimally small portions, not enough to be looking at dollar signs if we sold. Carl probably flew in because Numero Uno is feeling sickly and wanted a reunion before he dies. Hector usually lives in Sacramento, when he’s not at his ranch in Montana, so it’s not far for him. I try not to live anywhere they can find me.”
“I’m starting to suspect this town is full of people who don’t want to be found.” Or seen—which niggled an idea at the back of Keegan’s brain.
“No cell phone reception is an excellent start,” Harvey agreed, hauling his heavy pack up the steep path without breathing hard. “No one lives here who might know you from elsewhere. It’s kind of freeing.”
“I can see that. But as annoying as my family can be, I never had any desire to hide from them.” The conversation prevented Keegan from dredging up the thought nudging him. Harvey’s secrets might be more important.
Harvey grunted. “I get that. My family worked hard to give me an education, but I paid them back. I just want to know who I am without them telling me who I should be.”
“I would say that sounds like a sulky teenager, but as you say, I get it. In Hillvale, you don’t have to be a pianist, and I don’t have to be a miner. The slate is clean, without expectations. We can make different choices.”
“Yeah, exactly. I can write songs all night and not have to perform if I’m not in the mood. I can carve walking sticks and not worry about my highly-insured fingers. We can find food and shelter in trade for our talents without Mammon breathing down our collars.”
They threw their packs in the ATV carrier, swigged water, and rod
e back to town, comfortable with their own separate thoughts.
Keegan had always assumed he would work for his family’s mining business. It was the only thing he knew how to do, and he did it well. Unlike Harvey, he wasn’t giving up a good career to find himself. He was hunting for information to help his family. Back home, they needed lawyers and accountants, not him.
But this break in routine did leave him feeling the call of the wild, so to speak. Unhampered by specific obligations, he could explore himself, as he’d never done as a youth. Interesting.
Even more interesting—when they reached Hillvale, they discovered CLOSED signs on half the businesses.
“What now?” Harvey muttered, heaving his pack out of the ATV and watching the confused, milling tourists on the boardwalk and parking lot.
“Café’s still open. Let’s start there.” Besides, Keegan hoped that’s where Mariah would be. He needed to bounce a few ideas off her, get her feedback. She had a way of making him focus on angles he wouldn’t see on his own.
“Your rocks?” Harvey glanced at the antique store. “Looks like even Aaron shut down.”
“I have a key. We’ll drop these off. We probably ought to shower but. . .” Keegan glanced at the unopened shops.
“Armageddon might be at hand?” Harvey suggested.
Which instantly returned Keegan’s thoughts to Mariah. Whatever was happening, she was either behind it or on top of it. He felt it in his bones.
“Better go in the back,” Keegan warned as they approached Aaron’s and potential customers watched them expectantly.
They bypassed disappointed faces to go down the alley and drop the packs off in the storeroom. They jogged back toward the boardwalk, but the side door for the meeting house gallery was open. Inside, people milled about, studying the artwork under Lance’s nervous supervision.
Harvey hesitated. “Maybe I should stay here, help look after the valuables.”
The triptych alone was priceless. They weren’t displaying the more expensive ceramics, but Keegan had no idea of the worth of the oil paintings. Glancing at the crowd, he nodded. “Good thought. I’ll send someone back with food and help.”
As he eased past the crowd toward the café, he tried to discern some commonality between the closed shops, but nothing in Hillvale was similar except basic utilities, and everyone seemed to have electricity. The boardwalk wasn’t on fire. Those were the only elements he could imagine the closed shops shared.
Inside the café, it was business as usual for the lunch rush, except it was midafternoon. Standing room only at this hour—
Mariah wasn’t at the register. Sam was there, looking harassed and worried. Her mother, and even Dinah, were waiting tables.
Where was Mariah?
Twenty-five
July 12: Thursday, afternoon
Mariah had her hands on the keyboard and her essence spinning down the wormholes she’d programmed into the operating system. Each time she hit a node of information, she spun off more electrons to follow all the bunny trails.
She drew more energy, and her focus thinned as she dived deeper. Spirals of light grew fainter, faster, stretching the mental connection to the point of pain as she struggled to hold the shreds together. With bytes of her tunneling through decades of material, any attempt to pull back now—
A door banged in the distance, and she startled. Electrons crashed, spun, and slammed together.
A male voice shouted—and she collapsed into the Void.
“What the devil did ye think ye were aboot, woman?” Keegan shouted as he entered the jewelry shop to the sight of Mariah, pale and stiff as a robot at the keyboard.
He addressed his ire at a mesmerized Teddy, but it was Mariah who toppled.
He winced as he caught her weight on his bad arm, but he’d dumped the sling while driving the ATV and had both hands free.
Mariah’s lids fluttered. She breathed, faintly. But Keegan could swear she was as near to death as it was possible to be. Terrified, he lifted her and clutched her close, wondering if mouth-to-mouth resuscitation would help return her mind to her body. Because he was sure that’s what she’d done—sent her mind winging elsewhere. Again.
Petite Teddy shook off her daze and rubbed her eyes. “I’ve never seen anything—” She glanced at Mariah’s limp form in Keegan’s arms and blanched. “Take her upstairs. I’ll fetch Brenda.”
Heart in throat, Keegan carried Mariah up the stairs. The jeweler’s shop had sported a CLOSED sign like all the others, so maybe Teddy’s sister had taken her children somewhere safe.
Safe—from whatever in hell Mariah had been doing? Or maybe that had been Zoe de Cervantes at the keyboard, computer hacker bar none.
He shivered, wondering what damage she may have caused this time. Her last episode had exploded his life and that of thousands of others.
Whoever he was holding, the woman in his arms was not the vibrant woman who’d been in his bed. She was as cold and lifeless as a piece of machinery, and she was scaring the crap out of him. He was new to this emotion thing and didn’t know how to handle panic.
Laying her on a bed in the room not cluttered with toys, Keegan rubbed her wrist, hoping to increase her pulse. Would CPR help? He didn’t want to break her rib cage. He leaned over and pressed gently, feeling the beat of her heart beneath his palm.
Come on, Mariah! he whispered inside his head. Don’t you dare die!
He was a world traveler, but he’d never met a woman as fascinating as Mariah. He hadn’t had a chance to know her the way she deserved to be known. He needed more time. . .
Deep breath, don’t cock up this time. It had taken her a while to recuperate each time she’d used her mind to reach Cass. She had ordered him to tell stories while she recovered—just as he’d asked her to do to distract from pain. So maybe she was in there, and maybe like someone in a coma, needed to hear a voice to find her way out?
Hoping and praying he was doing the right thing, he removed the coveted journal from his pocket and donned his glasses. If anything would catch her interest, this should. “I have the journal, Mariah,” he whispered. “Listen, the frontispiece says—'This is the Compendium of Ian Macleod Dougal, dated this year of Our Lord, 1758.’”
Did her breath come just a little faster?
“For future generations, I hereby list the Nature of Stones as I have discovered them in my travels, in hopes that my descendants will continue with my endeavors.”
Keegan glared at the page in the poor lighting. “His penmanship is atrocious. We may need a handwriting analyst.”
Mariah’s fingers moved—in impatience?
He wrapped her hand in his and struggled on with the reading. It was the most boring tripe in the world, but he had to admit that the case studies were painstakingly annotated.
He’d only reached the fourth page of excruciatingly concise script before he heard footsteps rushing up the stairs. He hastily shoved the book back in his pocket.
The first one through the door was the small older woman who had treated his shoulder—Brenda, the retired nurse.
“She’s coming around, I think,” Keegan told her, wanting to believe his own words. “She overexerts herself.” That was the simplest explanation he could offer.
Teddy followed after, along with Amber, who remained in the doorway, anxiously twisting her rings and bracelets.
“I didn’t know. . .” Teddy whispered in apology. “She said she would fix my website!”
Brenda took Mariah’s pulse, checked under her eyelids, listened to her heart beat, then shook her head. “She’s alive. If I had an office—” She cut herself off. “She could use electrolytes, but I don’t have an IV. We either need to move her to the ER or hope she recovers on her own.”
“It is not wise to take her to a hospital,” Keegan said, suspecting who Mariah really was. “May I take her home? She responds to being read to.”
Brenda placed her palms on either side of Mariah’s head, hummed thoughtfully, th
en nodded in reluctance. “Given time and enough energy, our bodies are capable of regenerating what they need without the benefit of modern medicine. But if she does not wake to take liquids in an hour, we’ll need to move her down the mountain.”
“I’ll have Kurt send for an IV,” Teddy said, sounding desperate.
“You need Kurt to give Brenda an office,” Amber corrected. “She can’t practice medicine out of a suitcase. I think there are laws.”
Brenda smiled ruefully and got up from the bed. “And the laws don’t exactly cover what we need. Take her to the hospital if she doesn’t wake in an hour.”
“Thank you,” Keegan said, although he wasn’t entirely certain for what he was grateful—reassurance, maybe. “I will see that she’s taken care of.”
Brenda took a quick look at the bandage on his shoulder, pressed a hand there that should have hurt and didn’t, and nodded. “Healing well, excellent.” His shoulder felt warm where she’d touched it, the pain gone from his recent exertions.
Mariah’s hand twitched in his. Come back now, you damn fool woman! he shouted in his head. But she wasn’t in there to hear him.
When Brenda and Amber had departed, Keegan glanced at the red-headed jeweler. “What did you mean, she was to fix your website? She’s not supposed to touch computers.”
Teddy ran her hands through her thick hair. “She said it would only take a minute! Did you know she shut down every computer in town? I had no idea anyone could do that. We were only working for a few minutes!”
Well, that explained the closed shops, although he thought a few minutes might be a serious understatement. “How can you know Mariah did that? I found you sitting right there with her, as stoned looking as she was.”
Teddy paced nervously. “Yeah, that was weird, like being hypnotized while watching all that information spin past. But the rest is simple deduction. When I found Brenda in the café, Amber rushed in to say her computer was working again. I didn’t even know she had one. Why does a tarot reader need a computer?”
Crystal Vision Page 23
