by David
"You are going to trust me," she said, surprised.
Letting her think whatever she wanted, Lee used the cell phone and cryptically let Diane know about Stump's call. He gave the time of the meeting, and the location of the bridge as the one closest to where she grew up. Bridget had no way of knowing where Diane had spent her childhood and that extra precaution seemed like a smart move at the moment.
Diane was now at a security command post on the base. She'd have to travel all the way across Albuquerque to back him up, but she'd be there. He hurried to the door, knowing he had to move fast to get back and forth across town, even during this time of night.
"I'll be here when you come back, probably," Bridget said, standing and walking across the room toward him.
"Probably?"
"Well, if I were to go, then you wouldn't have the problem of trying to figure out what to do with me or who to tell."
"True," he said, then paused for a long moment. "Whatever you decide to do, Bridget, stay out of trouble." He added, "I'd hate to be the one who has to kill you later on," then stepped outside quickly. "Lock the door." He hurried down to the car, keeping a sharp eye out for skinwalkers or vampires. As he reached into the backseat for his bullet-resistant vest, he smiled. His life was becoming more and more like a horror movie.
As he drove south down the freeway toward the downtown area, Lee remembered that the Silver Eagle skinwalkers knew where his office was, so it was possible they'd be waiting for him there instead.
Lee strongly suspected he was being led into a trap. The skinwalkers were changing the way they worked, and that was a bad sign, but he still had to play things out. All he had now was evidence of their smuggling operations, and he needed more. He called Lieutenant Richmond and told him about the meeting at the Alameda bridge, asking for heavily armed backup, but requested that the officers use a silent approach to avoid tipping off the Silver Eagle smugglers.
When he arrived downtown he circled the block twice, looking into every dark alley and doorway before stopping at their business. To break the pattern he parked in front and went in that entrance, avoiding the alley completely. He was in and out in five minutes with the cash in a small metal briefcase, now dusted with a powder that would show up under ultraviolet light, and carrying a tiny digital audio recorder in his button-down shirt pocket.
I-25 was only a few minutes away from their office location, and at this time of night Lee had no problem making good time northeast on the freeway to the Alameda exit. Off-Interstate traffic was heavier than he expected going west on Alameda Boulevard, but he made it to the river five minutes ahead of schedule.
Lee slowed the vehicle and pulled into a parking lot just south of Alameda where it approached the newer, wide concrete bridge. No other vehicles were there this time of night, but he'd seen the recreation area filled with cars early in the morning and on weekends. There were trails and bicycle paths that paralleled the river here, and access to the bosque and the Rio Grande.
He looked at his watch, then called Richmond again. A few officers would be in the area soon, but hadn't arrived yet. Lee asked that when his backup arrived the officers hold their positions beside the two intersections east and west of the river for at least five more minutes, then advance on foot. He wanted to make sure money and contraband changed hands first, and, if possible, get something recorded that would provide evidence for murder charges.
It had sounded very plausible, but Lee knew that the scent of the officers, even at a distance, would alert the skinwalkers, and that was why he'd really made that request. As he stepped out of the vehicle with the briefcase, he checked the direction of the wind. There was a slight breeze coming from the west, which served him well because he was on the east side of the river. The skinwalkers, unless they approached from behind, wouldn't be able to catch his real scent until just the right moment, which was part of his plan.
Lee knew he had been too far away the other night to be recognized by sight, but the wolves had picked up his real scent, the scent of the man who'd killed Raymus. Marie wouldn't let him walk away tonight.
The absence of other vehicles didn't necessarily mean he'd beat them to the meeting place. Lee walked west out of the parking area and onto a narrow asphalt path. On his left, a small, permanently flowing canal ran parallel to the river. He looked ahead to where the path continued beside the canal as both passed beneath the bridge. It was clear except for a little graffiti on the bridge pillar to his right.
There was a noise somewhere to his left and Lee saw a beaver scuttle into the canal from the bank. It swam off south with the current.
Lee passed beneath the bridge. Not far in the distance, the path made a ninety-degree turn back to the west to parallel the bridge on its north side. Lee decided that Stump had probably meant the old structure. The old Alameda bridge, now painted blue, was a narrow wood and steel structure that had been left intact just north of the new one. It now served as a pedestrian walkway and for people on bicycles or horses.
Lee turned on his recorder, then continued over the hill, actually a long, high levee. Once across the top, he continued down the pathway and through a steel gate used by the parks department to restrict vehicle access to the bosque. Now he could see three people standing beneath the bridge about halfway to the river, which rippled quietly fifty feet behind them.
They probably didn't realize that he could see them already despite the darkness, so he had the opportunity to evaluate the situation. Stump was recognizable by his bulk even if Lee couldn't see his face. He wore a black trench coat like in some old gangster movie, and his sawed-off shotgun was visible in his right hand. The second person was one of the delivery guys, but not Long-hair. He was holding a pistol half out of his jacket pocket. It would have been invisible to a mortal even up close.
Angela, wearing a windbreaker and jeans, was standing beside a large duffel bag, which rested on the sand at her feet. She didn't appear to be carrying a weapon, and instead of watching Lee, Angela's eyes were directed toward the grove of giant cottonwood trees to the north.
Stump elbowed her, muttering something Lee couldn't quite make out. Immediately she focused in Lee's direction. Lee glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw the muzzle of a wolf down low beside the trunk of one of the trees. Angela had just sent him a warning, intentional or not.
Lee was having second thoughts about his hasty call for backup to the lieutenant. Any help was supposed to approach from both sides of the river. It had been too late to send officers along the riverbanks themselves, up and down the bosque from north and south.
The obvious direction of escape for the skinwalkers would be to the left and right along the wooded bosque, and in that environment Lee would have the advantage over any police officer. None had his speed or night vision, and he knew that any fleeing skinwalker would assume animal form the moment they had the time. The problem would arise if the Silver Eagle pack split up when the shooting started.
His and Diane's original plan had been flexible, but it had been based upon the original meeting time and the necessity of provoking violence. Tonight had quickly become a pull-it-out-of-your-ass operation. However, Lee felt very confident that his scent would incite the skinwalkers into a fight.
The instant they reacted, as skinwalkers always seemed to do without much thought, they would be taken down hard. Their guns would be his biggest problem, because bullets traveled much faster than fangs and claws, and only his torso was protected by the vest, now underneath his jacket.
"Yáat'ééh," Lee greeted, then stopped. "That our stuff in the bag?"
"Could be. You have the money?" Stump grumbled.
Lee held out the briefcase. "Could be."
There was a low growl, then the sound of rustling leaves to his right. Lee turned his head and saw three enormous wolves less than fifty feet away, watching him intently. Angela had betrayed him after all.
"Those your dogs? I think the parks department requires leashes. You could
get a ticket." Lee used the position of the briefcase to conceal his other hand, which now held his pistol.
Wishing Diane were here beside him and at the same time grateful she wasn't, Lee forced himself to look away from the wolves and at Stump, his biggest danger from this direction. He took another step toward the three humans, watching how the big Navajo was holding his shotgun.
As stupid as it sounded, he was going to have to force a fight and hope they didn't shoot him up too badly. "Where's Raymus?" he said loudly, turning to look at the wolves, which were circling around behind him. The female was undoubtedly Marie and her teeth were bared.
"Quit trying to bullshit us, cop. We saw you and your woman on TV!" the man with Stump and Angela yelled sarcastically. "Didn't you cops get our message last time? How many more have to die before you back off?"
Lee remembered that they'd been within sight of a camera crew over at the hotel where Rogers had been attacked, but he'd believed that they'd been far enough away. That mistake would cost him now, but on the good side, he wouldn't have to force a confrontation.
"You're all bark and no bite, delivery boy," Lee said. "Who killed the two officers anyway? Stump did the shotgun work, obviously, but which of you gutless dogs emptied your magazines on them after they were already down? Besides that sick puppy Raymus, of course." Lee locked over at the Marie wolf. The bitch's hair was standing up along her backbone. It was a wonder she hadn't attacked already.
"Trash talk is still trash, cop. You're not walking away, and there's not going to be any quick death for cop number three. Those two guys died in a hurry, but we're going to eat you alive," Stump said with a sneer.
"Oh, you think I came alone? My partner's up there waiting for my signal to send down the troops."
"Yeah, right. We've been here an hour and the place is deserted. Our partners here"—Stump pointed toward the wolves with pursed lips, Navajo style—"have been sniffing around. Just us and one walking, talking chew stick."
Angela was anxiously watching the others now, not him, and she hadn't shown a weapon. Unless she got the chance to shape-shift, it didn't appear she was going to be any help tonight to anyone. At least he finally knew she hadn't betrayed him.
Lee fought the distraction. Angela was just here for herself, and she wouldn't make a move to help him unless it was clear he'd already won. Lee needed to focus—and stall. Another two or three minutes and his backup would start moving in.
One of the wolves snorted, maybe Long-hair, and he knew they were now downwind enough to detect his night-walker scent—the scent of the one they knew killed Raymus. They froze, their nostrils working overtime.
Lee knew this was his only chance. Stump and the loudmouth with the pistol couldn't shoot without hitting their own. He swung around, hurling the briefcase at the big female just as she made her move. She had to dodge before she could leap, and by then he was in a crouch, his pistol out and on target.
Lee fired two shots into her chest. The big bitch yelped as the bullets struck, but she managed to bowl him over as she slammed into his upper body.
Lee fell onto his back, concentrating on holding on to his pistol. The attack by the others was fierce, but skin-walkers just didn't have the natural instincts of the creatures they'd mimicked.
Instead of striking at his arms or legs wherever they could make contact, the two skinwalkers kept straining to grab his throat, getting in each other's way as well. They rolled around on the sand; it was like wrestling two bears at once. He managed to free his weapon for a second and shot one below the eye, pushing it away with his other arm as it suddenly relaxed.
Lee rolled up to a squatting position and twisted around just as the remaining wolf made a grab for his head from behind. A small-caliber gunshot rang out and the animal jerked, hit along the spine.
Someone cursed and Lee realized that the skinwalker had been shot by Angela. Lee dove behind Marie's animal form and rolled, firing at the closest man. The man went down from two rounds in the chest; then Lee rolled again in the opposite direction, nearly avoiding a shotgun blast. Most of the buckshot struck the ground beside his outstretched leg, but a few caught his thigh and pain shot through him like hot needles.
"No, you idiot. Don't you know what he is?" Angela yelled, pointing a small .32 auto at Stump and firing right into the surprised man's chest, causing him to drop his shotgun. "Bitch!" Stump yelled, grabbing her pistol hand.
Lee could hear her fingers crunching under the pressure, but Angela hung on to the weapon. "Shoot him, shoot him," she screamed.
Lee tried to get a bead on Stump's head, but he kept Angela between them as he tried to wrench away the pistol. Stump punched her brutally in the face with his free hand and her head snapped back.
Lee shot Stump in the thigh and the butt and he grunted, but the bullets didn't stop him. With a mighty yell, Stump finally swung Angela around like a rag doll and the pistol in her hand went off as he tore it free. Angela sagged and he let her drop to the ground.
Lee squeezed the trigger twice more. The first round caught Stump in the center of his chest and he dropped the handgun, collapsing to his knees. There was no second shot. The action remained open on an empty chamber.
In a split second Lee had his backup .45 in his hand. Stump made the mistake of reaching for the shotgun and Lee shot him in the chest again. The man fell forward onto the sand.
A quick turn of his head showed that everyone was down. Lee found his pocket recorder, luckily still intact and in his pocket, and turned it off as he stepped quickly over to Angela, who was groaning, her hands clutching her bloody abdomen.
"I tried to help, Uncle."
Uncle? What was she talking about? Navajos sometimes gave others these titles as signs of respect, but it sure as hell was an odd time for that. "You did fine, Angela." Lee got down on his knees beside her, checking to see how badly she'd been hit. She'd been gut-shot and was losing a lot of blood. He thought about the cell phone in his jacket, if it still worked, but even the best medical care would probably be too little, too late. The only thing that might save her now was vampire blood.
Lee looked up the trail leading to the road and couldn't see anyone, though there were plenty of sirens bearing down. If Diane was coming at all it wouldn't be much longer, and the police were probably running in his direction from both east and west. It was now or never.
Lee pulled out his boot dagger and slid the blade across his wrist just enough to open a vein. His arm felt warm as blood began to flow across his skin. He pressed his wound gently into hers, then applied pressure with his other hand, hoping to slow her own blood loss.
"What are you doing, Uncle?" Angela said softly. "I'm going to die. You can't stop it. Had I been shot while in wolf form, I could have shape-shifted back into a human and healed myself, but my luck's run out."
"My blood can heal. I'm different from other people, you know." Lee looked into her eyes and for a second imagined he saw Annie in there someplace. Was his memory of his lost wife so faded now that Angela's image had taken her place? Or was there a real connection? Angela had called him uncle…
Angela had her eyes closed, and he examined her features without having to confront those demanding eyes.
They weren't like Annie's. His wife had been kind and gentle, but this woman was hard and manipulative. Yet the cheekbones, the lips, and the shape of the chin was so familiar.
He waited, watching Angela's wounds. There seemed to be no change, but it had been only a short time, and she was, after all, a skinwalker, not a normal human by any stretch of the imagination.
Angela opened her eyes. "Lee? Is that your real name? I have to tell you something… You've always looked at me so strangely, haven't you? Like I'm someone you've known before."
Lee nodded. He was starting to see the connection now, and it made his heart beat a little faster. He concentrated on keeping his blood mixing with hers, but now he couldn't take his eyes off her face.
"I didn't recognize you at fir
st, not when I first saw you over by Fort Wingate that night. But later I remembered a photo my mother had of you and her sister." Angela smiled. There was a trace of blood on her lips now.
"Connie! Was that your mother?" Lee knew the truth. Connie had been Annie's little sister and had attended their wedding. He hadn't seen her since Annie's burial, but remembered reading about her death a few years ago in a car accident. Annie and Connie had looked a lot alike, and Connie had had children.
"Yes. You're my uncle, Lee Nez. But you should be eighty years old by now. I've seen some very strange things and I've become something… evil. But what creature are you… so strong and quick?" Angela's voice was nearly gone. Unless his half-vampire blood started healing her soon, she'd die.
It didn't matter what he told her now. If Angela lived, she would be part vampire and know the truth anyway. If she died…
"I'm a nightwalker, Niece."
Angela was shivering. Lee held her as closely as he could, trying to transfer some heat. But he had to keep his blood in contact with hers if there was a chance at all.
She was barely able to whisper. "I've heard stories. The one who made me an animal said that if we drank the blood of a nightwalker we might become immortal. But Marie laughed… said that was a lie. Skinwalkers only have a few years, so we must take what we want quickly." Angela smiled. "I wanted you, even… my uncle."
Lee could hear someone running down the hill and he looked back. It was Diane, followed by another two officers, and he raised his arm to signal where he was.
"Look out!" Diane shouted, and Lee realized someone was coming up from the opposite direction.
As Lee reached for the .45 in his pocket, two shots rang out, then a third blast nearly shattered his eardrums.
Finally he had his pistol out. Stump was standing there, an ugly mess, the shotgun sagging to the ground at his feet. An angry wound had appeared in his forehead, and it was amazing he was still on his feet. Diane fired again and the big Navajo dropped to the sand. His feet twitched for a moment, then stopped.
