Coyote

by Rhonda Roberts

  ‘No!’ I barked instinctively. He had no rope to climb and I wasn’t going to watch Honeycutt break his neck scaling a slippery building bare-handed. ‘There’s a way onto the roof.’

  We raced down the corridor, up the narrow flight of stairs at the end and burst out the external door, panting. I shone my flashlight over the roof … to find nothing.

  The flat roof was empty.

  Overhead, thunder cracked out a challenge to the earth and the rain came down in sheets. Without speaking we each picked a side to scan. No, the burglar hadn’t climbed back down either. So where had he gone?

  Daniel stood over the rope; it was tied to a steel hook. He checked the hook, which had been drilled into the concrete, and then examined the knots fastening the rope to it.

  The rain poured down my face, blinding me. ‘What is it, Honeycutt?’

  ‘Are you working on any other cases than the one you talked about last night? The Kershaw diary …’

  ‘No, that’s it and we don’t even have that case yet. I’m still trying to find the right bait to reel in our prospective client, Seymour Kershaw.’

  Honeycutt shook his head. ‘Then, Kannon, we need to talk about what else is going on here. I haven’t seen a knot tied like this since I was in the Marines. That burglar has special ops training.’

  That scared me. Des could’ve been caught there by himself.

  ‘I want to know why he was in my office!’ I stared around, angry. ‘He’s got to be hiding, he couldn’t have climbed back down that fast …’

  We checked the building over to make sure that my new special friend had really gone, but still no luck. Whoever it was had disappeared into thin air. So we went over the Rewind offices with a fine-tooth comb. But all I found was my empty in-tray lying upturned on the floor. The crashing sound must’ve been it hitting the floor as the burglar rushed past to the window.

  I handed Honeycutt one of the freshly cleaned towels from our tiny office bathroom, and we both tried to dry off.

  ‘Your window wasn’t broken,’ said Honeycutt, ‘so he must’ve secured the hook and rope on the roof as an emergency escape route. Then he picked the door lock to get in.’

  I nodded. ‘He must’ve been watching the building. Des only left ten minutes before I arrived.’

  That thought was a relief — at least Des’d avoided a nasty confrontation.

  We fell silent, trying to process it all.

  ‘So the intruder was in here for maybe five minutes, tops?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I shrugged. ‘But I don’t know what he was looking for, Honeycutt, I can’t see anything obvious. The filing cabinets are still locked and the desk computers seem as intact as I can tell without power … Maybe he didn’t have time to get what he came for?’

  Lightning blazed outside, briefly illuminating my office like a searchlight.

  ‘But what did he come for, Kannon?’ Honeycutt’s voice was clipped so far back to neutral I could barely understand him. Another lightning flash showed that he was furious. ‘What’s happened since I’ve been gone? Who’s sending military-trained personnel after you?’

  Then I remembered the strange letter I’d found in our mailbox yesterday. The one with the skull and cross bones drawn on the front of it, in dark red ink. What had I done with it?

  ‘What?’ Daniel read me like a book.

  I walked back out to the foyer.

  ‘My visitor could be all about the previous tenants … I found a threatening letter addressed to them yesterday.’ I leant over the secretary’s desk and flicked through the pile of mail to be readdressed and sent to the real-estate agent.

  ‘That’s strange.’ I went through the pile twice but the threatening letter was missing. ‘It’s gone.’

  ‘Who was the last tenant?’ Honeycutt picked up the pile of mail and started opening the letters. ‘These are all demands for payment.’ He dropped the last one back onto the desk.

  ‘All I know is the mail’s addressed to Lindthorpe Enterprises.’

  Had the burglar been after that weird letter?

  Honeycutt was not so quietly seething on the foyer lounge.

  He hadn’t taken the break-in well. It seemed as though he’d decided to make being my personal bodyguard his full-time job. I didn’t need one. That’s what I usually did for everyone else. But after he risked his life for me on our last mission together, I felt the same way about him. So I understood.

  I’d lit as many candles as I could muster and was seated at the secretary’s desk in the foyer, trying to make some sense of the break-in. I had the real-estate agent on the line and was trying to squeeze out what information she had about Lindthorpe Enterprises.

  While I was busy railroading the spluttering real-estate agent, I shot Honeycutt a quick glance … Yep. His expression said he was still ticking over like a time bomb, just waiting for the right detonator to stroll through the door.

  The office door swung open with a crash.

  Honeycutt looked at our sudden visitor with vicious intent, as though scenting a legitimate outlet for his anger.

  Seymour Kershaw barrelled through the doorway, focused on his mission. He stumbled when he met Honeycutt’s gaze, then swerved like a puppy on ice to stand over me. ‘I need to talk to you!’ The last word was bellowed.

  I paused mid-sentence and covered the mouthpiece of the old telephone. ‘Please go through to my office, Mr Kershaw.’ From the red colour of his cheeks, his efforts to hire Klaasen or Melnick had not gone well.

  I spoke into the phone, ‘I’m sorry, but can I hand you over to my associate? A client has just come in.’ While she was still spluttering, trying to get rid of me, I handed the phone to Honeycutt. ‘Do your Southern charm thing, will you?’

  Honeycutt gazed past me to my office, as though keen not to miss a potential brawl, but nodded anyway. He went to work, his Southern accent in full force.

  Kershaw sat rigid in the chair opposite my desk, hammering his fingers on the armrest like he was trying to communicate with me in Morse code.

  I wanted to rub my hands and dance with glee. I restrained myself. ‘Now, Mr Kershaw, how can I —’

  ‘I want to hire you to find Hector Kershaw’s diary, but I need you to leave immediately.’

  So much for the formalities.

  ‘Okay,’ I replied, as calmly as humanly possible. ‘Yes, Mr Kershaw, I think I could fit your case in … I’ll need some prep time, of course. Nineteenth-century San Francisco may sound easy to you, but in fact it’s not without its dangers. And, of course, I’ll have to get a good focus on Hector’s life in the right time period and —’

  ‘No!’ Seymour broke into my professional recital with a scowl. ‘Not old San Francisco … I want you to go back to Santa Fe in 1867.’

  ‘Old Santa Fe?’ That was a jolt. ‘But I thought San Francisco was where —’

  ‘If there ever was such a diary,’ butted in Seymour, ‘then Hector must’ve left it in old Santa Fe … or Coyote Jack stole it there … or something happened to it. I’ve been through every family paper that Hector kept in San Francisco and there’s no diary here.’

  I frowned. Now I knew why Seymour couldn’t bribe Klaasen or Melnick to take his case. Nothing was getting me back to Santa Fe in 1867. Not at the time of Dry Gulch.

  Seymour read my face. ‘I don’t care if it’s in the middle of an Indian War!’

  ‘But,’ I said, desperate to steer Seymour away from the impossible, ‘the diary could still be here somewhere. If I go back to old San Francisco first I can check, then go to Santa Fe only if necessary. That’s a lot easier than —’

  ‘No! There’s no time to be wasted! I’ve just come from Jackson River’s office … I went to confront him about his allegations. And he was packing up, getting ready to fly back to Santa Fe. River just found a lead that shows Hector’s diary was hidden in Santa Fe all along.’

  I studied his face. ‘In that case, Mr Kershaw, why can’t you wait until River has found it?’

 
Seymour eyed me with acute distaste; I wasn’t catching up fast enough. ‘Because, Miss Dupree …’ He made my name drip sarcasm like a defrosting fridge. ‘I believe Coyote Jack was guilty of Dry Gulch, and if my relative’s diary convicts that villain rather than vindicating him, then River will destroy it.’

  I considered his point. ‘Mr Kershaw, do you really think Jackson River would go that far?’

  ‘Oh yes, he certainly would!’ spat Seymour. ‘I now know exactly why Jackson River started this whole media circus in the first place. He would do anything to clear Coyote Jack of the massacre of those poor people at Dry Gulch.’

  Seymour shot a challenging look at Honeycutt who’d just appeared in the doorway.

  ‘That’s one of my associates, Mr Kershaw, you can have perfect confidence in his discretion.’ I was almost bug-eyed to hear what Seymour could possibly have found out.

  Seymour sucked in a lungful and announced, ‘Jackson River heads up a protest group in New Mexico, which is trying to stop the sale of supposedly sacred Indian land to a mining company.’

  ‘What kind of mining company?’ interposed Honeycutt quietly.

  ‘Uranium,’ stated Seymour Kershaw, obviously unconcerned by that which did not directly affect his interests.

  I shot a careful glance at Honeycutt. The matter-of-fact answer had deepened his scowl. I was guessing that his mission to Hiroshima had caused it. I couldn’t imagine after that close call that he’d be heavily in favour of mining anything radioactive.

  ‘River’s protest group,’ said Seymour dismissively, ‘had a court case going to stop the sale. It’s just failed. Now these local tribes claim that this land was originally owned by Coyote Jack anyway. That it was illegally seized and sold by the US government after he was blamed for Dry Gulch.’

  Great! I fought back a sigh. Why did my only potential case have to be so morally complicated?

  ‘River is desperate to stop this sale!’ raged Seymour. ‘He doesn’t care about the truth of Dry Gulch. All he cares about is winning his court case. So if River finds my ancestor’s diary first and it doesn’t say what he wants it to then he will most certainly destroy it.’ Seymour paused, panting with ire.

  ‘I’m not going back to old Santa Fe, Mr Kershaw,’ I stated.

  ‘Oh yes, you will.’ He nodded disparagingly at my empty in-tray. ‘I’m your only client — and if you don’t take this case I’ll make sure I’m your last one too.’

  I reluctantly bit my tongue. It wasn’t the threat that’d worked but the harsh reminder that if we didn’t get money rolling in soon, I’d have to close Rewind Investigations before we’d even really opened it. And this was the case I wanted anyway. As high profile as they come … Wasn’t it?

  ‘Therefore, Miss Dupree …’ Seymour had recognised my unspoken assent. ‘You will go back to old Santa Fe and find out if there is a diary — and if so, where it’s hidden. Then come back and tell me its location so I can personally retrieve it.’

  ‘But, Mr Kershaw, surely we can find another way to —’

  He started yelling, ‘This is Hector Kershaw we’re talking about — the hero of San Francisco! Half this city is named after him. I have to beat River to the diary and stop him from destroying it.’

  I didn’t bother to respond.

  Seymour Kershaw nodded, satisfied. He knew he had me.

  Outside, the electrical storm was winding itself up into a towering rage.

  10

  DON’T GO

  So my first official case was going to send me into the middle of a war zone to chase down a diary that may not even exist — and with no real prep time. I studied my mockingly empty in-tray. You rotten little plastic bastard — you’re going to get me killed!

  But another week without income and I’d have to hock the damned thing.

  ‘You can’t do it, Kannon.’ Honeycutt had waited until Seymour left before exploding.

  ‘Leave it alone, Honeycutt.’ I spoke as quietly as I could manage. If I really started to open up, I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to force myself through the portal. ‘I have to go.’

  Lightning lit the room, casting Honeycutt’s now stern features into stark relief.

  There was only one time portal in the whole wide world and it sat in the National Time Administration building in Union Square. I’d been through it many times now, but most of those had been NTA training trips. However, two of the trips through the portal had been completely different. On both, I’d come close to not making it back alive.

  Now here I was on my first official investigation and I could feel the jitters starting. Would I make it back from this one?

  ‘No, Kannon, I will not leave it alone!’ As I was getting quieter, Honeycutt was wrenching his volume dial up to the max. ‘I can’t just watch you go.’ He flung an angry hand towards the door, as though I was about to leave. ‘Seymour-fucking-Kershaw is sending you back to a violent, treacherous frontier town in the middle of a war.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’ I kept my tone light. ‘Now tell me something I don’t know.’ I fought the urge to smack him, just to stop him from talking.

  ‘And old Santa Fe is the least of your troubles. What if Coyote Jack did steal Hector’s diary? Are you going to go after him?’

  I turned away. Evading …

  Honeycutt moved to face me. ‘Are you, Kannon? Will you go after a ruthless killer who’s just massacred a coach full of men, women and children? A vicious murderer who slaughtered them just because he doesn’t like the colour of their skin?’

  I didn’t reply.

  Honeycutt leant in. ‘I know you, Kannon. I know what you’re capable of — and it scares the living crap out of me.’

  I didn’t say it was doing the same thing to me.

  He grabbed my shoulders. ‘Kannon, you can’t even take anything back to protect yourself.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, Honeycutt.’ My fear had turned into exasperation. ‘No anachronisms allowed. I know!’

  ‘No modern weapons, no high technology. Nothing through the portal that wouldn’t naturally exist in that era.’

  I pushed his hands away. I can’t stand being patronised. Not even by him. ‘Honeycutt, don’t recite the risks to me!’

  When a time traveller enters the past, they create a temporary lacuna, a time warp. And when they return to the present that time warp disappears and the past reassumes its normal shape, unchanged. The past can’t be changed, but when a time traveller dies in the past their body disappears along with the lacuna. Which means you can’t be rescued.

  If you die in the past, you stay dead. End of story.

  And that was why Klaasen and Melnick had refused the job.

  I felt fury surge over me like a suffocating blanket. It was always going to be this way — I’d get the cases those two morons rejected, the really dirty and dangerous ones.

  I eyed Honeycutt, considering how best to derail his efforts to save me from myself. ‘Don’t worry, Daniel, I’m going to talk this all over with Des.’ Then I changed the subject. ‘So what did the real-estate agent say?’

  ‘Don’t bullshit me, Kannon, I know that hellion look. You’ll railroad Des no matter what he says.’

  ‘Tell me what the real-estate agent said!’ I snapped.

  ‘Okay! Okay!’ he snapped back. ‘She said their files on Lindthorpe Enterprises are missing. And there’s no forwarding address because they skipped town about three weeks ago without paying their rent. She said you were about the tenth person to call about them since then.’

  Hmm. I digested that. ‘So the break-in could’ve been about them.’

  Honeycutt didn’t answer.

  ‘That’s good news,’ I prompted.

  He shot me a look. He wasn’t going to give up. ‘Kannon, I’ve been to the old West …’

  ‘You never told me that.’

  He gave me a pointed glare. ‘Kannon, it’s a bad, violent time. It’s the frontier, the very heart of hostile territory. And white women don’t —’
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  ‘Yeah, yeah, it’s not safe — I get that!’ Then I glared back at him. ‘But I’m thinking it’s safer than Hiroshima the day the atom bomb was dropped. Don’t you?’

  ‘That’s …’ He stopped, unable to answer my counterattack.

  ‘That’s different, is it? What … because I’m female?’

  ‘No! Because it’s my job.’

  ‘Yeah, Honeycutt, and this is my job! But I know what this is really about. We both know.’

  Honeycutt shut up.

  On our last mission he hadn’t told me much about his background but circumstances had forced a precious few details into the light. When Daniel was fifteen his beloved younger brother, Kyle, was shot and killed in an accident at their military school in Louisiana. He’d never forgiven himself for not being there to prevent it.

  That’s why Daniel had stepped in front of the bullet meant for me.

  That’s why he saw himself as my bodyguard.

  And that’s why he was doing everything he could to stop me from taking this case.

  ‘I’m going to do my job, Honeycutt — just like you do yours.’

  We exchanged glare for glare. But I could see past his anger to the fear. It was unnerving.

  Rattled, I turned my back on him, reaching for papers to shuffle.

  ‘Kannon …’

  I turned back again, my reply as crisp as I could make it. ‘Yes?’

  Daniel’s expression had changed. The fear was now contained by determination. ‘Okay, Kannon, you win. If I can’t stop you then I’ll have to help you.’

  I frowned. ‘Help me with what?’

  ‘Kannon, that’s why I came back so early from my mission. To make sure I saw you before you left on your first official case. To help you.’

  I shook my head. ‘Help me? How can you?’

  ‘There are ways. You can’t take most kinds of high technology with you, especially weapons — but there are other things you can do. Other ways to beat the NTA regulations … ones that all the marshals use.’

  I didn’t let the wave of relief show. ‘What are they?’

  He held up one hand. ‘But trade for trade, Kannon: you have to make me a promise first.’