Nightwalker

by Rhonda L. Print

  “Wilson called me. Oh, honey…” She set her bags on the counter and enveloped me in a hug. “I’m so sorry. You’ve been crying.” She let me go and straightened her shoulders. “He didn’t deserve you. I stopped at the bakery and brought some cinnamon rolls. You go take a nice hot bath while I’ll make some coffee. Then we’ll talk.” She kissed my cheek then turned me toward the door. “Take your time, dear.”

  I obediently walked to my bedroom. I’d learned long ago not to argue with Alli. She was the closest thing to a real mother I had ever had. She was sweet, soft spoken and a natural caretaker, as long as you didn’t piss her off. As they say, dynamite comes in small packages.

  Wilson might have run the department, but Alli ran everything else. She was a nurse by trade. It was how she’d met Wilson. He was a beat cop back then. She’d had to stitch up a guy he’d grazed with a bullet.

  I ran the tub and stripped out of my clothes. I laid my gun and holster within reach of the tub before I sank down and let the hot water ease the rest of the tension out of my body. I needed a clear head. Wilson could handle the murder case without me, but he didn’t know squat about runes. Ramírez would be useless to him and Joaquín was already a suspect. I couldn’t leave Wilson alone on this. I drained the tub, wrapped my hair in a towel, and put on a robe.

  I could hear Alli humming in the kitchen and smell the heavenly aroma of fresh brewed coffee and cinnamon. A sense of calm embraced me as memories of my time with Wilson and Alli flooded back to me. She had always been there with a shoulder to cry on, baked goods and coffee, or when I was younger, hot chocolate. She didn’t chastise and wasn’t thinking of what she would say next, she just listened, really listened. No matter what the issue, big or small, she would listen. I padded into the kitchen in my robe and bare feet. Alli was setting a cup of coffee on the table. “Feel better now?”

  I let out a long sigh. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

  “Good, nothing a hot bath can’t cure.” She chuckled.

  “A hot bath and a cup of coffee.” I smiled.

  “Good, now come sit. We’ll talk while you have a cinnamon roll while they’re still warm.”

  “What do you want to talk about?” I looked over the rim of my cup.

  “All of it, of course.” She sipped her coffee.

  “Of course.”

  We ate the rolls and drained half a pot of coffee while I told her everything that happened, even though I knew she’d already heard it all from Wilson. She listened and I felt better, as if a weight had been lifted off me. I could breathe again, think again.

  I knew what I needed to do. I needed to solve this case.

  After she left I went to get dressed. I’d forgotten my hair was still wrapped in the towel and had to rewet it before I could brush it out. In the end, I tied it back in a loose ponytail. I had a report to finish up on an insurance fraud case I’d been following. Mr. Albertsons was about to find out that you can’t file for workers’ compensation for a back injury; then spend the day on a golf course. I was sure Mutual Fidelity wouldn’t approve his claim after they saw his golf swing.

  Dumbass.

  I emailed the report over, complete with photos of Frank Albertsons in his golf shorts. What was with the plaid?

  With that out of the way, my curiosity got the better of me, as it usually does, and I did some internet research on Native American symbols. God bless the internet. It had been awhile since my Runes and Symbols Interpretation class in college and I needed to refresh my memory. Since the beginning, man has used symbols to mark the location of valuables. Food, weapons and burial sites were all marked in some way. The symbols were also used to warn of danger or to imply danger to protect man’s belongings.

  Deception from the beginning of time. Comforting, huh?

  Archeologists and treasure hunters use this information to search the previous lives and secrets of those who came before us. I had to get the letter from Joaquín and decipher the symbols. I stood and walked to the window. The day had already turned to twilight. The sunset cast the sky in an orange and red glow as it yielded to night.

  I left my office and headed back to the kitchen. The coffeepot had gone cold so I poured some in a cup and plopped it into the microwave. I grabbed the phone and called Wilson’s home number.

  “Hey, Wilson, it’s me.”

  “I was hoping you’d call. Allison said you looked pretty shaken up.”

  “Nothing a hot bath and cinnamon rolls couldn’t cure.” I smiled. I knew Alli had given him the scoop on our visit this afternoon.

  “I don’t know what to say. I would have never figured Joaquín to be unfaithful, but, there you go.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, there you go. Joaquín mentioned a letter written in runes. Did he give it to you?”

  “No.” His voice was clipped. “Does it have anything to do with this case?”

  “Probably. I need the letter to decipher it. I was hoping you had it.”

  “He didn’t mention it. He should have.” Anger colored his voice. Cops never like it when you withhold information. “I’ll go down tomorrow and get it from him.”

  “No, dammit.” I pulled the coffee from the microwave. “I’ll get it from him.”

  “You don’t have to do a damn thing for him, Leah. I would have never brought you into this if I’d known.”

  “I know you wouldn’t have, Wilson. But do you know another preternatural willing to work this case for what the department pays me?”

  “No.” He sighed.

  “I didn’t think so. I’ll do it. I’ll get the letter from him and take it from there.”

  “You want me to tag along?”

  “No, thanks. I can take care of…”

  “If anyone knows that you can take care of yourself, it’s me,” he interupted. “By the way, Leah, have you talked to Ramírez today?”

  “Why … shit!” I smacked my hand on the table. “I was supposed to meet him at Luigi’s.”

  “Don’t sweat it. I told him you were on a case and he’d just have to let you beat him at pool some other time.”

  “I’ll bet he loved that.”

  “He accused me of taking sides.”

  “Are you?”

  “Just going where the smart money is.”

  “Thanks, Wilson. Give my love to Alli.”

  “I will. Bye.”

  I walked over to the sofa and dialed Joaquín’s number from memory. He picked it up on the first ring. “Leah?”

  “Yeah, how’d you know?” I curled up on the sofa.

  “Caller ID.” His voice was weary. “I don’t know what to say, Leah. I can’t make this up to you. It’s unforgiveable.”

  “Yes. It is. This is a business call, not personal, so let’s just skip the small talk. I need to see the letter. Do you still have it?”

  “You won’t even listen to what I have to say, will you?” He sounded miserable. Hurray!

  I let my head fall back and blew all the air out of my lungs. “There’s nothing to say and nothing to listen to. We’re not a couple anymore. We broke up. It’s over.” I fought to keep my voice even. “We don’t mean anything to each other anymore so it doesn’t matter who you’re bed buddies with. Do you have the letter or not?”

  “Ouch. Yeah, I have the letter. I’ll bring it by your place.”

  “Uh, no. You won’t. I’ll meet you at Luigi’s at eight. You can give it to me there.” I hung up. Hmm, maybe there was some merit to not saying goodbye.

  I set the phone on the end table and went to get ready to face Joaquín again. I didn’t feel the need to dress up for Joaquín but the little devil on my shoulder told me that the better I looked, the worse he’d feel. No, I don’t really have a devil on my shoulder, that is not one of my curses. Once I had dressed and put on the little bit of make-up I wear, I turned to look in the full-length mirror. The short black skirt billowed to just above my knees.

  The spaghetti straps of my white form-fitted tank top accentuated my breasts. I’ll neve
r be a stomach sleeper and an underwire bra is essential. The black jacket that matched the skirt hid the shoulder holster holding my Glock and an extra clip of ammo. Technically, I didn’t have to conceal my weapon. I have all the necessary permits to walk around with my guns strapped to my hips. It’s a little too Old West for me and people tend to look at you sideways when you walk into the grocery store armed, hence, the shoulder holster. I strapped on my low-heeled black shoes and I was good to go.

  Luigi’s was a small, family-owned Italian restaurant. By family-owned, I mean Luigi Sansa and his wife, Sophia, cooked, cleaned, waited tables, and did everything else involved with the operation of the restaurant. On the weekends, their son Tony and daughter Rosa bartended. During the week they were at college. College was never an option for Tony and Rosa. They were going. Luigi’s word was law. Sophia’s word was like the bible. You could argue with her as long as you knew that in the end you’d lose.

  Joaquín’s old, red truck was parked out front. I rolled my neck to ease the tension, squared my shoulders; then walked in. The smell of tomato sauce and garlic permeated the air. Their family recipes were local favorites. Everything was good at Luigi’s. A hub for the locals, including the police department, Luigi’s was always hopping and if you ever needed to know the local gossip, this was the place. A short stucco wall separated the bar from the eating area. The bar was three deep with people tonight. The pool tables were surrounded by those either playing or watching. Tony worked one end of the bar. His dark hair pulled into a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck gave the impression that he had short hair. He was no more than five foot eight, with chocolate brown eyes, broad shoulders and a muscular fit that made up for any lack in height. He was drawing a draft with one hand, serving a drink with the other and laughing with the customers.

  Rosa was a younger version of her mother. They both had large brown eyes, long dark hair flowing past their shoulders in waves. They were both petite and radiated joy. It was no surprise that a throng of young, single men surrounded her end of the bar. Tips would be good tonight.

  Small round tables, big enough for four if you were cozy, were covered in red tablecloths and spaced sporadically throughout the eating area. The lights were dim, which gave the room an intimate flavor. Chianti bottles dripping with candle wax were lit at the center of each table. I gave a nod to Luigi in greeting, and he motioned toward the back corner of the room.

  Joaquín sat at a table, bathed in candlelight, a basket of bread in front of him. I took a deep breath, held it, let it out slowly, and walked over to the table. Luigi beat me there, setting an enormous plate of rigatoni in front of Joaquín.

  “Leah, so nice to see you again,” he drawled in the Italian accent he’d never quite lost. “I knew you two would be back together again. This break-up business is no good, yes?” His hands moved wildly to punctuate each word. He was no taller than Tony, stocky and a product of his own good cooking. He wore a white, sauce-splattered apron over dark pants and a white shirt. “When two people are in love…”

  I gave Luigi a light hug. “We are not in love, Luigi. We’re not together. It’s good to see you, too.”

  Joaquín squirmed in his seat as Sophia arrived and placed a drink in front of him.

  “Luigi knows love when he sees it. Just like when I met my Sophia.”

  “Papa, if she’s not in love, she’s not in love. Let them be in peace,” Sophia chided him.

  He wrapped his arms around Sophia. “What do the young know about love? They flit in and out of it like the latest fad. They do not stay long enough to grow the seed of love in their heart.” He shook his head slowly as he talked.

  “The heart wants what the heart wants, Papa. Now get Leah a plate and leave them be.”

  “Yes, Mama.” He patted her behind then walked away.

  “It’s okay, Luigi,” I called after him, “I won’t be staying to eat.”

  “Nonsense,” Sophia chimed in. “You don’t have to love him to eat with him. I’ll get you a drink.” She turned and left before I could protest.

  Joaquín stood to pull out the chair for me. “It’s just pasta, Leah. Please?” he implored.

  I wanted to say no, I wanted to tell him to shove his pasta up his cheating ass, but I couldn’t. He looked so forlorn, dark circles shadowed his deep-set eyes and his normally permanently tanned skin was pale and ashy. His shoulders were slumped. The cool-headed confident man that I knew was hidden somewhere in this deflated body. Why did I feel so damn compelled to see his brilliant smile again?

  Hell if I knew.

  Okay, fine, so I was lying to myself. I still cared. I couldn’t just turn the switch from love to hate. In spite of everything, something in me still cared.

  I sat.

  Joaquín let out a breath, slowly, cautiously. I laid the napkin in my lap, grabbed a bread stick and nibbled on the end of it.

  Awkward.

  Joaquín had changed out of his uniform and into a pale blue T-shirt accentuating the muscles across his chest and down his rippled stomach. His tight black jeans hugged his lean legs. Black cowboy boots completed the outfit. He took his seat across from me and pulled a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket.

  “Here. I thought you’d like this right away in case you decide to leave.”

  My eyes flicked from the paper to his face. I’d never seen him look so tired, so lost. I took the paper from his hand. Our fingers gently brushed against each other and I shivered.

  “You don’t look like you’ve gotten much sleep,” I commented.

  “It’s been a bad year. Sleep hasn’t been a priority.” He placed his hand on top of my hand on the table, still holding the letter. “I am sorry. For everything.”

  I broke eye contact and pulled my hand and the letter back. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and go back a year. Before he’d proposed, before I’d said yes. Before the council got involved. Before a lot of things were said and done that couldn’t be taken back again. Unfortunately, time travel is not one of my many talents.

  Work.

  When all else fails, concentrate on work.

  I opened the letter. “EVIL MUST FAIL” was written in large bold letters across the top of the page. The remainder of the page was covered in runes, symbols telling a story. It was my job to decipher them.

  “Some figures are self-explanatory; see this?” I pointed to a symbol of an upside-down stick figure. “This indicates a dead person, this circle with an X and a vertical line through it also indicates death and the hourglass figure represents war. It looks like a challenge of power or a threat.”

  “You can read this, just like that?” He sounded incredulous.

  “No, not ‘just like that’. But a few of the figures, yes.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  I laid the letter on the table and looked up at him. “You didn’t listen. I never kept my abilities a secret. You just didn’t want to know about them.”

  “I listened,” he countered.

  I knew at that moment that he would never understand me. “You just didn’t hear, did you? If you didn’t have to hear it, it couldn’t be real. You could close your eyes and just pretend none of it really existed.”

  “It can’t all be true, you can’t possibly…” His voice began to rise.

  “Yes, Joaquín, I can. It doesn’t disappear when you close your eyes to it. Too many people have tried. This is who I am, who I always was, who I always will be.”

  We were loud enough now to attract the attention of the other diners and many heads were turned our way. Luigi walked to our table, wiping his hands on his apron. “See, Luigi is right. It’s amore, you are in love. It’s like you are already married, no?” He walked away laughing.

  I opened my mouth to throw a few choice words at Joaquín when his cell phone rang. He answered it and I didn’t need to hear the conversation to know that I’d be spending the rest of the evening at another murder scene. His expression dropped to concern; then went blank in the
way a cop’s face can when he turns his mind to business and turns the emotions off. You have to or this type of work will eat you alive. After a series of um hms, okays and be right there, he hung up.

  “Where?” Time to go to work.

  “Near the reservation, another woman. Aaron is there but he doesn’t recognize her. He put a call in to Wilson, he’ll meet us there.”

  “Us? What the hell makes you think I’m going with you. I have the letter, I’ll do what I can with it.”

  “You can really just go home, interpret the letter and forget about the rest?”

  Well, no. He didn’t have to know that. Damn. I let out a long sigh.

  “No, damn it. I can’t and you know it. I’ll follow you in my truck.”

  Joaquín went to pay for dinner. As I stood to leave, Sophia winked at me. I bit the inside of my lip to keep my mouth shut and walked out the door.

  I waited, pacing across the parking lot. This was just business, damn it! I didn’t want half the town thinking that Joaquín and I were a couple again. Maybe we could salvage a friendship out of this.

  Oh hell, at least a working relationship.

  The tension started creeping into the temple of my head. I paced faster. Joaquín strolled out of the restaurant with a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “That’s just fucking great,” I grumbled. “They think we’re back together now.”

  He put his hands on my arms. The grin slid off his face. “Would that be so bad?” he asked solemnly.

  That startled me and a sea of thoughts swam through my head. Too much had happened. He’d cheated and lied and incredibly, I still might be able to forgive him. But he’d never be able to accept who and what I am.

  “Let me ask you this. What did you think would happen after we were married? That I’d quit doing preternatural shit, move to the reservation and we’d have a few kids?”

  He shifted from foot to foot in a nervous gesture. “Again, would that be so bad?”

  Truthfully no, but there was really no point in bringing that up now. It was too late.

  “That’s not who I am.”