by Rowe, Julie
Sylvia threw her hands up. “That’s everybody.”
“I’m looking for two fuck-ups.”
Her brows rose.
Shit, he was talking to a civilian postal worker. “Idiots who act before they think.”
“That narrows it down a bit.” She bit her lip and said hesitantly, “One of them is your cousin, Nate.”
Nate? What the fuck? “Anyone else? I need all the names.”
“What for?”
Smoke just looked at her.
Sylvia rolled her eyes. “You always were good at keeping your mouth closed.” She said it like it was an insult. From her, it was a compliment.
“Freddy Alvarez.” She thought for another moment. “A few others, but Freddy and Nate were the worst of the idiots.”
Smoke nodded his thanks, turned to leave, then glanced over his shoulder. “Stay healthy.”
She didn’t respond.
Freddy wasn’t a surprise, but Nate hadn’t been that big a moron when Smoke had been home last.
For his son’s funeral.
His gut tightened as his memory flashed pictures of his little boy. His smiling face as he ran toward him in what he called a sneak attack hug. His son’s tears as Smoke left on his last deployment. His face, still and pale in the coffin. Smoke forced those images away.
So maybe he’d been a little distracted; he’d have still noticed his cousin turning stupid.
Would Nate be stupid enough kidnap a nurse? No. So, Smoke would put him on the back burner and focus on the guy who might be dumb enough to kidnap Kini.
Freddy.
He still lived with his parents, as far as Smoke knew, despite the kid being…he had to think about it, add up the years. Twenty-three.
Christ, he was getting old.
Smoke drove to the Alvarez place, a medium-sized house one street off of Main Street. The dirt and gravel front yard featured a couple of clusters of junk. A rusted and pitted washing machine sat in one corner near the outside of the house surrounded by a broken shovel, a bicycle missing both tires and the seat, and three horse shoes.
A wagon wheel, which was probably supposed to look decorative, sat at the intersection of the driveway, and the street was almost completely shrouded by tumbleweeds. An old TV sat behind the wheel with a cactus growing through the middle of it.
The house looked quiet, shades drawn against the sun, and driveway empty of vehicles.
Smoke parked the jeep, walked to the front door, and knocked. Twice. When no one answered, he went around to the rear and found the back door open with only the screen keeping the bugs out.
“Hello,” he called out loudly enough to wake someone who might be sleeping. He knocked good and loud, too, and called out again. No answer.
Fuck it.
He opened the door and went inside.
No movement or sound. He walked farther inside until he reached a crossroads of hallway, kitchen, and living area.
Air movement inside the house was almost at a standstill, but he caught the slightest scent of decay down the hallway. He walked cautiously forward, hands loose and ready to move if a quick reaction was needed.
The smell became thicker with every step, coating his tongue in putrefaction and rot. Death was the only resident here; the only questions left for him to answer were how many and who they were.
The first bedroom he came to was empty, the bed rumpled and clothes strewn across the floor.
The second bedroom revealed a person-shaped mound under the covers, a patch of black hair visible near the pillow.
Odd. He expected the smell to be stronger this close to a body.
The body moved, coughed weakly.
Smoke strode to the bed and flipped the blankets back, revealing a girl who looked to be ten or eleven years old. Her eyes were closed, her clothing and hair wet with sweat. He put a hand on her forehead. Fuck, she was burning up.
“Hey,” Smoke said, putting a hand on her shoulder and giving her a gentle shake. “Wake up, princess.”
She didn’t respond. At least she was alive. That meant he hadn’t found the source of the decomposition.
He pulled out his cell phone and called River as he left the room, heading for the last door at the end of the hallway. It was closed. As he neared it, the scent of death grew stronger.
As soon as River answered, Smoke said, “I’ve found a sick kid in a house with no visible adults present. I couldn’t wake her, and she’s got a hell of a fever. Can you spare an ambulance?”
He opened the door and took a step into the room. It was all he needed to find out everything he didn’t want to know.
A woman lay on her side on the bed in the fetal position, facing toward the door. She wore underwear and a T-shirt, both soaked with sweat and possibly other fluids resulting from decomposition. The room was hot, so maybe that had sped things up, because the skin at the ends of her fingers was black, her fingernails oddly long, her lips pulled back from her teeth.
She looked like she’d been dead for days, but given the temperature, it could have only been hours since she passed.
With a child in the next room.
“There’s no family present?” River asked.
“No one alive,” Smoke replied. “One corpse. Adult, female.”
“Shit. Just give me a second.” River didn’t put him on hold, and he could hear the man talking to someone else, relaying information.
“No ambulances are available,” he said, coming back. “But one of the sheriff’s deputies is going to pick up the kid and bring her here. Give me the address.”
Smoke provided it then said, “Explain to the officer why I can’t stick around. Kini is out there in the hands of someone desperate. This was just my first stop in trying to find her.”
“I will. Call back if you run into anyone else who needs assistance.”
“Will do.” Smoke ended the call and left the house.
He checked Freddy’s aunt’s house, but no one, dead or alive was there. After that, he stopped at a couple other homes belonging to other members of the Alvarez family, but no one had seen him, and there was no evidence to indicate he’d been by lately.
Smoke worked to keep himself calm so he could think rationally, but it was hard. It didn’t fucking make sense.
Where the fuck had Kini been taken?
Chapter Twenty-One
Kini was going to strangle someone. Two someones, to be specific.
The idiots who’d grabbed her had dropped her into the back seat of a grimy Cadillac that couldn’t be younger than the Nixon era. The floor of the car was covered in a disgusting, threadbare carpet smelling of things best left unsaid, and the engine sounded like it was a few drops of oil away from seizing solid.
Her arms were awkwardly tied behind her back. God, the sock in her mouth better be clean or she was going to rip someone a new one. Hah. She was going to rip someone a new one anyway.
Freddy and his friend were smoking joints with both windows down.
Dust entered the car and funneled back and down to where she lay. It clung to her clothing and hair and clogged up her nose. Her tongue felt like it was coated in chalk, and she wished for a tub full of water to rinse out her mouth. Grit got into her cuts, letting in sweat, making her feel like she was an unwelcome guest inside a hornet’s nest.
Someone’s phone rang. Freddy answer it with a yeah, which was then followed by several more yeahs and a see you there before he hung up.
He turned left onto another road and kept driving.
A headache was developing behind her eyes and in her temples, thanks to the bumpy road and lack of water. She hadn’t heard another vehicle for a long time.
Where the hell were they?
They slowed down then came to a stop. Freddy and friend got out, the sound of their footsteps getting softer and softer. She tried to sit upright using the edge of the seat behind her, but the sound of voices and laughter got louder along with returning footsteps.
Were they comin
g back for her or were they going to drive somewhere else? She let herself fall back onto the floor and braced herself for whatever was coming.
A gunshot, too close, made her whole body flinch. She’d have screamed if she didn’t have the damn sock in her mouth. She dragged air in through her nose as a second shot ripped through the dusty air.
Footsteps approached. Kini squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself for pain.
“Hey, lady? Are you okay?”
She opened her eyes and turned her head as far as she could to see who was talking to her. Mostly, all she saw was the back of someone’s head and shadows.
“Hey, man,” someone said. “Those assholes have a woman tied up in the back seat.”
More than one man, and it sounded like they were coming to her rescue, but someone had pulled a trigger twice. Maybe they did it to scare the boys off?
The door opened and sunlight hit her in the eyes, making it difficult to see. Hands reached in and pulled her into a sitting position, then all the way out of the car.
Two men, a lot older than the boys who’d taken her, dusted her off, as one of them worked on getting her hands free. The other took the sock out of her mouth.
She gagged and coughed. “Thank you,” she managed to croak out as the guy behind her cut whatever was around her wrists. The man in front of her stepped to one side and she saw them.
Two bodies on the ground, blood, brain matter, and bone spattered on hair, skin, and clothing.
She sucked in a breath, her heart faltering for a beat before trying to sprint out of her chest. She stumbled backward and hands grabbed her by the shoulders.
“Easy, now,” the man in front of her said, glancing at the bodies. “They pulled guns on us.” He smiled at her, but it creeped her out even more. He patted her on the shoulder. “Self-defense. The little fuckers kidnapped you, right?”
She managed a shaky nod of her head.
“On a crime spree it seems.” He smiled again. “Why don’t we get you out of here, huh? Get you some water?”
She was nudged past the bodies and toward a larger truck. The man speaking to her had blond hair under a faded ball cap, a farmer’s tan, and straight white teeth. “I’m Bruce and the gentleman behind you is Gary.” He shook her hand.
The other man held his hand out for an almost too-firm handshake. He gave her a smile that had an edge to it. She blinked. Edge? But the sharpness was gone, leaving only polite curiosity behind.
“What happened?” He opened the passenger door and helped her onto the front bench seat.
“It’s a long story.” Hell, she didn’t even know where to start. Didn’t want to think about it, or anything, at all.
“You live out here?” Bruce asked as he started the engine and began driving away.
Why were they leaving? Wasn’t this leaving the scene of a crime? Neither had a phone visible. Weren’t they going to report what happened?
Shivering, she said, “No, I’m ju…just visiting.” Jesus, she sounded scared to death.
“Visiting, huh? No houses around here.”
“Those two took me from the hospital in town.”
“A lot of sick people there, a lot of them dying. The cops are saying everyone should stay home and not go visiting.” Bruce’s voice was dipped in an oily coating of sarcasm. A slick, scary warning that sent a cascading crash of panic through her body, only she was boxed in by men and machine.
There was nowhere to go.
“What kind of person goes visiting while everyone is sick?” Gary asked, his tone a mockery of concern.
“Sounds nefarious, eh?” Bruce said with a chuckle.
“Real cloak and dagger,” he agreed.
“Just how involved are you with that disease in town?” Bruce asked, all humor disappearing from his face.
She stared at him, then darted a look at his friend and found the same expression there, too.
Understanding was a cold stone at the pit of her stomach. Those shots hadn’t been self-defense, and these two men weren’t rescuing her.
“I think she’s very involved with that disease,” Gary said, his gaze so cold she shivered. “I also think she’s been sticking her nose into things that are none of her business.”
“Who are you?” she asked before she could censor herself. Her voice wavered with the fear that she’d just gone from the fire into the frying pan.
Bruce shrugged. “We’re no one important.”
Something brushed her arm, and Kini shrank away from Gary’s hand. “Don’t,” she said sharply.
A slow, serrated smile crept across his face.
“Why did you decide to come to this area now?” Bruce asked at the same time as Gary wrapped his hand around her forearm.
“Let go of me,” she ordered from between clenched teeth. Don’t scream. Don’t scream. Something told her these two would like it too much.
“What brought you here?” Bruce asked again.
She tried to twist her arm out of Gary’s grasp, but his grip tightened, and he pinned her shoulder to the back of the seat.
“Answer the question.”
“My job,” she said.
“You’re that nurse.” Gary inched closer and leaned toward her, putting his face only a couple of inches from hers. “It’s all over town that you work for the CDC. Why would the CDC send you to this little pissant place?”
Stomach roiling and holding on to her cookies and her sanity with everything she had, she said, “I get sent all over the country to do population studies, see what pathogens are endemic in a region, and look for patterns of disease transmission. This was a routine assignment no different than the dozen or more others I’ve done.”
The two men exchanged glances.
“You weren’t sent here because of the hantavirus?” Gary asked.
“Yes and no.” The information wasn’t a secret. In order to perform the study, the CDC was required to fully explain the purpose of it to anyone who might be a potential subject in the study. Anyone could ask for this information. “This study was to get a sense of how many of the people who live in this part of the state have developed antibodies to the virus without developing the illness. The CDC is considering the possibility of developing a vaccine.”
“Why?”
She resisted rolling her eyes. “I don’t know. I’m just a field nurse. They give me the general parameters of what they want and set me loose to get it done.”
Gary’s lips tightened along with his grip.
Pain shot down her arm and she gasped.
“Why are they looking here?”
“I don’t—”
“Speculate,” he snarled, squeezing her arm again.
“Just tell him,” Bruce advised. “He likes hurting people a little too much, and women most of all.”
She stared into Gary’s eyes and saw the truth there, cold, sharp, and coiling like a snake made of razors. No matter where it hit, it was going to make her bleed.
“There have been,” she began, “several small clusters or pockets of infection in the population outside of the normal areas where hantavirus is endemic. My boss looked at all the cases and couldn’t find a common denominator, other than the possibility of the rodents carrying the virus, moving into new territory.”
“So what?” Gary hissed.
“So, if the virus is moving into more populated areas, the time, cost, and effort of creating a vaccine might be warranted.”
“There’s no other reason?”
“None that was shared with me.”
Gary smiled and it sent a shiver of fear through her. “I don’t believe you.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Smoke hurried into his parents’ home and found his mother watching the news on her tablet.
“What are you doing here?” she asked him as she got to her feet. “I thought you’d be at the hospital—”
“Do you know where Nate is?” Smoke interrupted.
“Why?”
“I need
to find him.”
“I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”
“What about a cell phone? Do you have his number?”
“Yes, I’ve got it. Just give me a second to grab my phone.” She picked it up from the table. “What’s going on?”
“Kini has been taken.”
“What?” His mother stared at him like he’d dropped a hand grenade on the table and asked her to defuse it before it blew up.
He rubbed a hand over his face. “I know. It sounds crazy, but that’s what I think happened.”
“What’s this got to do with your cousin?”
“She and I had an altercation with Freddy Alvarez. He’s my number one suspect, and Nate probably knows where to find him or has his phone number. They were tight.”
“Yes, a couple of years ago, but not so much anymore.”
“It’s the only lead I’ve got, Mom.”
She read him Nate’s number and Smoke added it to his contacts, then he called his cousin. After two rings, it went to voicemail. He texted a simple message: Call me, Smoke and hit send.
Now what? Standing around waiting for a phone call wasn’t going to help Kini, but running around like a chicken with its head cut off wasn’t any better.
His phone chose that moment to ring. River’s ringtone.
“Smoke,” he said.
“There’s a Deputy Blackwater here. He says two young men were found in the desert about six miles from town. Dead, shot execution style. One of them, a Freddy Alvarez, filed a harassment complaint against you yesterday.”
Shit. Freddy was dead? What the fuck is going on?
Smoke balanced precariously on the edge between action and complete shutdown. If Freddy was dead, where was Kini? Cold fingers wrapped around his neck, strangling his ability to breathe.
Get a grip, asshole. Losing his shit wasn’t going to help. Focus. “So?”
“So, the police are asking nicely if you’d answer some questions.”
“I never touched him.”
“Harassment, not assault.” River paused, then said, “We need this cleared up, so it doesn’t distract us from the important shit.”
“Blackwater wants to bury me.”
“The fucker has a serious hard-on for you. We’ve got someone here who has volunteered to act as your…advocate.”
