Kane blinked, then blinked again and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “’M ‘wake,” he slurred. “Sorry…”
“It’s okay,” Hellhound assured him. “Go back to sleep. We got your back.”
Kane mumbled something inarticulate, his eyelids dropping shut again. A few moments later his breathing slowed and deepened, and Hellhound and I exchanged a glance and tiptoed out.
In the hallway light, I squinted at my watch. “Shit, it’s one AM! We were going to go over these files!”
Hellhound yawned and gave a philosophical shrug. “Prob’ly did us more good to grab a nap. We’ll be fresher now.” He stretched his arms above his head, his back and shoulders emitting a percussive symphony of crackles and pops. “Shit, darlin’, I was dead to the fuckin’ world.”
“Me, too.” We trailed back to the sofa and sat side by side, positioning the laptop on the coffee table.
After an hour of scrolling data I sat back, rubbing my aching eyes. “I didn’t realize how much there was. We’ve barely scratched the surface.”
Hellhound gave me a quizzical look. “How could ya not realize how much there is? Ya sent it, didn’t ya?”
“Yeah…” I sighed. “Long story, and I can’t tell it to you.” I eyed him enviously. “I suppose you remember everything we’ve read, down to every date, time, and detail.”
He shrugged. “Yeah. An’ I skimmed the missin’ ladies’ cases before ya got here. There’s a helluva lot of ‘em, but I couldn’t see any connection to the boys.”
“Yeah. I’m glad you don’t think they’re connected, because I can’t even keep the boys’ cases straight.” I fell back on the couch. “I can’t remember my own name. This isn’t going to work unless I start writing stuff down.”
“Good plan, darlin’. That way Kane can look at it when he gets up, too. He’s got a bulletin board in his office, an’ he already got started on some a’ the cases while we were waitin’ for ya. Let’s go put some stuff up.”
Two hours later we had tacked up a mosaic of papers and arrows in between trips to the bedroom to soothe Kane’s nightmares. When I yawned and rubbed my watering eyes for the umpteenth time, Hellhound put down his pen and drew me into his arms. “Okay, darlin’, you’re done.”
I smothered another yawn. “No, I can keep going.”
“Yeah, ya prob’ly can, but if ya do you’re gonna miss somethin’. Remember, the cops have been workin’ these cases for over a year, an’ they ain’t stupid. If there’s anythin’ here, it ain’t gonna be obvious. Go home an’ get some sleep, an’ we’ll hit it again in the mornin’.”
“But if Daniel’s still alive, every second could count…” I began.
Hellhound tilted his head down to rest his forehead tenderly against mine. “I know, darlin’. But you mornin’ people are no damn good at this time a’ night. I’m still wide awake so I’m gonna keep at it.”
He let out a breath and his arms tightened around me. “The best thing ya can do is get some rest so ya can be strong for Kane tomorrow.” His gravelly voice held infinite sadness even though he didn’t speak aloud the thought that gnawed at my heart: if we found Daniel dead at the hands of a monster, could Kane survive the blow?
I hugged Arnie in silence, seeking comfort that even the warmth of his arms couldn’t provide. The thought of my farmhouse lying dark and empty in the night chilled me.
“I’m going to stay,” I decided. “I’ll just crash on the couch, and then if I wake up early I can do some more reading.”
“Why don’t ya go crawl in with Kane?” Hellhound suggested. “He’s about done punchin’ for the night. You’ll be more comfortable, an’ it’ll do him good to have ya there.”
“He doesn’t want me.” I smothered another yawn. “You saw how he pushed me away.”
“Sucks, doesn’t it? When somebody ya care about shuts ya out?” Arnie asked quietly.
Straightening, I stared him in the eye. “I really hope you’re not preaching to me, because I am so not in the mood.”
“Nah, I ain’t preachin’.” He pulled me back into the hug. “I’m just hopin’ you’ll cut him some slack.”
“I will.” I kissed him and eased reluctantly out of his embrace. “I shut both of you out often enough. Payback’s a bitch.”
He chuckled. “Ain’t that the truth.”
I woke to a gentle hand on my shoulder and Hellhound’s quiet rasp, even hoarser than usual after his sleepless night. “Hey, Aydan, it’s six-thirty. Ya goin’ to work today?”
Groaning, I sat up and gingerly stretched my aching neck. “I don’t know. Did you find anything last night? Should I stay?”
“Ya should prob’ly go. Like Kane said, we might need ya on the inside. I didn’t find anythin’ earth-shatterin’, but I got a helluva lot a’ readin’ done an’ I filled up another twenty sheets. I’m gonna keep at it ‘til Kane gets up, an’ then I’ll crash while he goes through our notes.”
“He’s still sleeping?”
“Uh-huh.” Hellhound smiled, tired lines bracketing his eyes. “An’ he’s gonna be pissed that I didn’t wake him up, but the longer he sleeps, the better. Get goin’, darlin’. Ya got just enough time to go home an’ get a change a’ clothes an’ a shower.”
“Okay. Call me if you need anything…” I trailed off with the sudden sick recollection that I had to meet Frederick Labelle at two o’clock. Oh, God…
“What, Aydan?” Hellhound surveyed me with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I summoned a smile. “I just remembered I have a meeting this afternoon, so don’t worry if you try to call me between two and three and I don’t answer.”
He eyed me suspiciously. “Okay… What ain’t ya tellin’ me?”
“Just the usual bullshit.” I kissed him and headed for the door under his worried gaze. “Don’t forget to nag John to go in for his debriefing when he gets up,” I added. “See you later.”
When I got to Sirius Dynamics at ten to eight Stemp was crossing the parking lot, and I hopped out of my car and gave him a ‘wait-for-me’ wave.
He halted, reluctance in every line of his body.
“Good morning,” he greeted me with his usual lack of inflection as I hurried up.
“’Morning,” I agreed, and got straight to the point. “I just wanted to ask how long your mom and dad will be here. I was hoping to have another visit with them.” A visit without Stemp’s dampening presence, but I couldn’t think of a tactful way to say that.
“They left.”
“What?” I gaped at him. “When?”
“Last night.”
“But… I thought…”
His stony expression told the story.
My heart sank. “Oh, shit. You fought.”
“We did not fight,” Stemp said stiffly. “We merely agreed that perhaps close proximity was less than beneficial for all concerned.”
“But… but you were getting along so well,” I floundered. “You were talking to them regularly on the phone, and last night I thought-”
“You thought wrong,” he snapped.
“No, you can still make this work! Call them,” I begged. “Ask them to come back-”
“No. If I thought they truly believed in the Earth Spirit, I could tolerate their so-called religion even if I didn’t believe in it myself, but…” His shoulders rose and fell in one of his infinitesimal shrugs. “…they created this deity and its rituals solely as a means of controlling the members of their commune. I had good reason to leave them behind when I was eighteen, and nothing has changed since then. They are liars and manipulators of innocent people. We have nothing in common.”
He turned away but I grabbed his arm, desperate to change his mind. “They’re your parents! You have everything in common!”
Stemp froze, eyeing my hand as if making a mental note to wash his jacket as soon as possible. “What exactly are you implying?” he asked in icy tones.
I let go of his arm. “I’m just… you can�
��t just…” Sucking in breath, I tried again. “Look, sometimes you lie and manipulate people, too, as part of your job.”
He let out a bark of mirthless laughter. “Are you implying those charlatans are on the side of justice and national security?”
I clamped my teeth on my tongue so I wouldn’t blurt out ‘yes’. I couldn’t blow their cover, not even with the best of intentions.
“Um… I’m just saying maybe your mom and dad have reasons-” I mumbled lamely.
“No doubt they do,” he interrupted. “All to benefit their own agenda. And in any case, they are not my ‘mom and dad’. My mother had a…” He hesitated. “…dalliance,” he went on in cool clinical tones, “…with Skidmark, which resulted in her pregnancy. My biological father is a wasted stoner and a draft-dodging coward, and my mother duped Karma into claiming parenthood of their bastard child. Me.”
My heart wrenched at the hurt in his words. “That’s not what happened at all!” I protested. “Skidmark isn’t a draft dodger or a coward! He-”
I cut myself off. I couldn’t tell him Skidmark had served with distinction in Vietnam, and every day of his life since.
“He’s a good guy,” I said instead. “Your mom loves him and Karma, and they love her; and they don’t care whose biological child you are. In fact, they never even knew for sure…” I trailed off. “So how could you possibly know?”
He stared straight through me. “Whom do I resemble?”
“Oh. Um… well, it’s hard to tell… I mean, Skidmark’s all hair and beard so you can’t really see anything but his eyes…”
I stopped before I dug myself in any deeper. Stemp sure as hell didn’t look like Karma or Moonbeam.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter,” I insisted. “Lots of kids don’t look like either of their parents. And Karma wanted you so much, he and your mom decided to register as your parents to keep it simple because Skidmark is a U.S. citizen…” My words faded into silence at the chill in Stemp’s eyes.
“I see you’ve gotten quite chummy with them,” he said quietly. “Very well. If you like them so much, you can have them.”
He turned and walked away, a stiff and lonely figure in the empty parking lot.
By the time I signed in at the security wicket and dragged myself upstairs to my office, my head was pounding. A couple of hours of studying Labelle’s file and trying to visualize all the possible turns our conversation might take didn’t help.
When my desk phone rang at ten-thirty I reached for it with gratitude. I’d welcome any distraction that kept my mind from spinning closer and closer to the conviction that I was about to blow my op before it even got started, and probably sign my own death warrant in the process.
“Aydan Kelly,” I said brightly.
Linda’s frantic voice lanced icy adrenaline into my veins. “Somebody’s trying to kill Spider!”
Chapter 22
I lunged to my feet, my chair whizzing back on its casters to crash into the wall. “Where are you? What’s happening?”
Tethered helplessly to the land line, I stretched its cord to the limit, heart hammering.
“Nothing. Sorry, I didn’t mean somebody’s attacking him right this minute,” Linda said distractedly. “But this morning…”
“What happened?” I demanded, knotting the phone cord in my sweaty fist. “Did you call the police?”
“Spider won’t let me…”
A burst of noise on the line launched my blood pressure into the stratosphere. “Linda! Linda, what’s happening!”
“Aydan?” Spider’s voice made me suck in a gulp of air.
“Spider! What’s happening? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Everything’s fine,” he soothed. “Linda’s just overreacting…”
“Am not!” a small defiant voice shouted in the background.
“She is so,” Spider said firmly. “Stuff happens to cars all the time; it doesn’t mean anybody’s trying to kill me.”
“What kind of stuff?” I barked.
“Well, my brakes failed this morning…”
“Don’t get back in your car! Stay indoors, away from any windows! Where are you?”
“We’re at home, but Aydan, it’s fine…”
“It’s not fine until I say it’s fine! Stay in your house. I’ll be right there!” I slapped the receiver down and ran.
Dashing down the stairs, I flung my security fob into the turntable and jittered while the guard crept through the sign-out procedure at the pace of a crippled snail. Then I pounded to my car at a dead run and laid rubber out of the parking lot.
Minutes later I skidded to a halt in front of their small bungalow. Spider’s lime-green Smart car was parked at an odd angle against the opposite curb and Linda’s little red Beetle convertible idled in the driveway, its top down in an open invitation to every shitbag assassin from here to Calgary…
Breathe. Evaluate.
I snapped a look around the quiet street, but I was the only visible human being. The spindly trees and small houses bespoke young families with parents at work and children in daycare.
No assassins.
I sprang out of the car, resisting the urge to draw my gun. As I jogged up the walk with my head swivelling in all directions, Spider emerged.
“Get back inside,” I snapped.
“Aydan, it’s fine,” he insisted. “Linda’s overreacting. I’m pretty sure it’s just a broken brake line because I couldn’t stop the car and there’s a puddle underneath it…”
“That doesn’t just happen for no reason,” I growled. “Especially not to a car as new as yours.”
“No, I know, but I ran over some metal thing in the street yesterday. It flipped up and whacked the underside of the car. That’s probably what broke the line. I’m really sorry you were scared, but it’s no big deal.”
“I want to look at it. And you need to get back into the house until I’m finished.” When he began to argue again, I added, “Please?”
He smiled and shook his head resignedly. “Okay.”
When he disappeared through the front door, I relaxed enough to take in the puddle of brake fluid on the driveway and the trail leading to Spider’s car on the opposite side of the street. After surveying my surroundings once more for potential threats, I went over and lowered myself to the pavement beside his car, then swore and extracted my reading glasses from my waist pouch to take a better look.
Sure enough, there was an impact mark and a pinhole on the underside of the passenger’s side rear brake line.
Hauling myself to my feet, I headed for the house. When I stepped inside Spider and Linda were waiting by the door. Linda clung to Spider’s arm, her usual perky smile absent and her smooth dark brows drawn together.
“What do you think?” she demanded as soon as the door closed behind me.
“I don’t know.” I turned to Spider. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
“Well, like I said, I was driving down Main Street yesterday on my way home when I ran over something that flipped up and hit the underside of the car. I didn’t think anything of it; just came home and parked in the drive as usual. We haven’t been using the garage because we’re storing furniture for one of our friends.”
“Did the brakes feel mushy when you parked yesterday?” I asked. “Did your brake pedal go down farther than usual?”
“Um… I don’t know… a little, maybe.”
“But you’re not sure, are you?” Linda challenged.
“Not really.” He shuffled his feet, flushing. “I’m really not a car guy.”
“So what happened today?”
“I started the car, put my foot on the brake and put it into reverse. The pedal went down to the floor and the car started to roll backward so I popped it into neutral and steered it over to the side of the street. It was barely rolling and it stopped when it hit the curb, so no big deal.”
“But if you’d been on a hill, you could have been killed!” Linda clutched his arm tighter.<
br />
He smiled and kissed the top of her head. “Sweetie, the whole town’s flat as a pancake. If somebody wanted to kill me, they’d have a better chance if they attacked me with a spoon.”
“What do you think, Aydan?” Linda appealed to me.
“It could have happened yesterday,” I said slowly. “If the line got nicked, fluid would squish out every time you braked. Your driveway slopes uphill so you might not have noticed the brakes fading when you parked yesterday.”
Linda was frowning and shaking her head, and I added, “Or somebody might have damaged the line in the night. Can you think of anybody who might do that?”
“No, of course not,” Spider said.
Linda was silent.
“Linda?” I prompted.
“N-no…” When Spider and I both frowned at her, she added, “But… I don’t know… I feel as though somebody has it in for us.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well… my dress, for one thing.” Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away and went on with only a slight quaver in her voice. “And last week I went into the post office and when I came out there was a dead bird on the seat of my car.”
“What?” Spider yelped. “That’s gross! Who would do that?”
“Was your car locked?” I demanded.
“Well, no…” She gave us a wobbly smile. “I had the top down. I thought maybe a bird had hit that big window in the grocery store and bounced off and fallen into my car or something…”
“What kind of bird was it?” I asked. “Was it just lying there, or did it look like it was posed? And was it stiff or floppy when you took it out? Did you notice if it was warm?”
“Ew, Aydan!” Linda attempted a giggle, but it sounded weak. “Lucky I’m a nurse or I’d be totally grossed out.” She sobered. “There wasn’t any blood, and I picked it out by the tip of its wing feathers so I don’t know if it was warm. But it was limp, so either it had just died or else it had been dead long enough that rigor had already passed. And it didn’t seem to be posed. I don’t know what kind of bird. It was soft gray all over, with some black on its face and bright yellow on the tips of its tailfeathers.”
The Spies That Bind Page 18
