The Arkana Mysteries Boxed Set

by N. S. Wikarski

  “The situation will be very awkward,” Griffin agreed. “Hannah must continue to believe we’re dead, that the Arkana doesn’t exist and that you’re acting alone to retrieve the relics. Do you really think you can carry it off?”

  “Won’t know til I try,” the pythia said off-handedly. “Besides, I’ll be away most of the time. Faye’s the one who’s going to have to field those questions on a daily basis. She’s had a lot more practice at being diplomatic.”

  The two men exchanged looks of concern. Erik shrugged. “No point in worrying about consequences now. It’s a done deal. Maybe we can find out something useful from her. Maybe something she doesn’t even know she knows.”

  “And how are we supposed to get her to tell us that?” Cassie asked.

  “Not us,” Erik corrected. “You. She thinks we’re dead, remember? And it’s not so much about getting her to answer questions as it is about keeping your eyes and ears open.”

  “I usually do,” Cassie drawled. “Otherwise I bump into walls.”

  Erik snorted.

  The pythia turned her attention to Maddie. “Was there any more ominous news you were planning to spring on us before we got sidetracked by the runaway bride?”

  Maddie had begun to fidget with her cigarette case—a sure sign that she was in need of a smoke. Making a superhuman effort to keep her craving at bay, she pushed the case away and focused on answering the question instead. “We’ve been monitoring calls between the Nephilim and our friend Leroy Hunt. The word is that Daniel is headed to Crete to figure out the clue about the wind. He’s gotten at least that far on his own.”

  “That’s good,” Cassie said with relief. “Hunt and Daniel head to Crete, we head to Malta. No chance we’ll bump into them that way.”

  “Not so good as all that. Hunt’s staying behind to track Hannah until Daniel gets his bearings.”

  “Oh, Jeez!” Cassie exclaimed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I sure hope Daniel gets a brainstorm right away! We need Leroy away from here.”

  “I don’t think we have too much to worry about from Hunt,” Maddie countered. “Even if he does manage to find the shelter where Hannah was staying, there’s nothing to lead him to Faye’s.”

  “Still, I’ll feel a whole lot better once he’s sticking close to Daniel and chasing relics instead,” the pythia replied. “That cowboy makes me really nervous.”

  Griffin began disconnecting the monitor and packing his computer. “It appears as if we’ll need to make preparations for an immediate departure, yes?”

  “Guys, I can’t leave at a minute’s notice this time,” the pythia objected.

  The others looked at her in surprise.

  “With Hunt after Hannah, I need to sweep up the trail of breadcrumbs that she scattered right in front of my door.”

  “You’re gonna have to find a new place to live stat.” Erik’s voice held a note of concern. “Someplace he can’t connect with any of us.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Cassie agreed. “I also need to do some damage control.”

  Erik raised a quizzical eyebrow.

  “There’s one person still around who could lead him straight to me.”

  Chapter 17 – Fishing with Dynamite

  Leroy Hunt parked his pickup and stepped out at the curb to scrutinize a red brick building with white columns. He consulted a small notebook in his hand to check the address. It was the last one on his list. He’d been at it all day and for several days before that. One homeless shelter after another and always the same reply when he showed the picture of Metcalf’s wife. “Sorry, haven’t seen her.” After this place, he was going to find the nearest bar, throw back a couple of shots, and give his corns a rest.

  “Home for Unwed Mothers.” He chuckled at the name. It was straight out of the cold war era. Nobody bothered to get married much these days or, if they did, they got divorced just as quick. He entered the building, crossed the marble lobby and stopped at a reception desk. It was staffed by a squat blond who’d seen the better side of fifty a decade before. The nameplate on the desk announced her to be “Wilma Hawkins – Supervisor.”

  Hunt removed his hat. “Good afternoon, ma’am. I was wonderin’ if you might be able to help me?”

  Miz Wilma wore a pugnacious expression and no makeup. She briefly looked up from her computer screen. Hunt suspected that, given her occupation, she didn’t hold men in high regard. Probably a dyke.

  “What is it?” she asked impatiently, fiddling with her keyboard.

  He produced the half photo of Hannah. “Have you seen this little gal?”

  The woman did a double-take. Even if she was prepared to say no, Hunt could tell that she recognized the girl.

  Miz Wilma finally gave him her undivided attention. Squinting up into his face, she asked, “Are you a relative?”

  He rattled off the story he’d been telling for days on end now. “No, ma’am. I’m a detective lookin’ into the matter on behalf of the gal’s folks.” He flashed a fake ID. “She comes from a little town downstate and got into a family way a while back. Her people think she came to the big city. They’re all real worried about her.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe she had good reason to run away. Maybe one of her relatives was responsible for putting her, as you call it, ‘in a family way.’”

  Hunt snickered inwardly. The old bat was closer to the truth than she knew. He maintained a bland expression and a level tone of voice. “No ma’am, that wasn’t the case at all. Fact is, she and some local feller got carried away. You know how it is at that age. Anyhow, when he heard the joyful tidings that he was gonna be a daddy, he lit out and ain’t been seen in the county since. I guess the gal was so ashamed, she figured to make a fresh start someplace where nobody knew her.”

  The woman’s skeptical expression relaxed by a hairsbreadth. Leroy took note and pursued his advantage. “Now I don’t mean to bring her back or nothin’ like that. Her folks just want to be sure she’s in good hands.”

  Miz Wilma let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, she was in good hands while she was here!”

  “Was, ma’am?” Hunt asked cautiously.

  “Yes, she stayed for a few days. Seemed very jumpy the whole time—like she thought somebody was chasing her. Then she disappeared, and nobody knows where she went.”

  Leroy adopted a crestfallen expression even though his central nervous system was dancing a jig. He’d run her to ground at last! “I’m very sorry to hear that, ma’am. Can you give me any particulars so’s I can report back to her people?”

  The woman paused to think, trying to recall the sequence of events. “She showed up on our doorstep more than a week ago.”

  “All alone?” Hunt still couldn’t fathom how a gal who’d never spent a day in her life outside a razor wire fence could have gotten so far by herself.

  “I remember seeing somebody drop her off.”

  Casually he said, “Sounds like she must’ve hitched a ride into town.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Hunt suppressed just how keen his curiosity had become at those words. “Why’s that now?”

  Miz Wilma puzzled over the question for a couple of seconds. “She must have known him because she stood outside for about ten minutes talking to the man who dropped her off. We get that a lot, you know. Men who don’t want to be seen inside the building prefer to dump their garbage on the street!” She spat out the last words with contempt.

  Before she had an opportunity to start railing at the entire male sex, Leroy reined her in. “Do you happen to recollect what this feller looked like? Maybe he’s somebody from back home that her folks might know.”

  “He seemed older than she was. Maybe thirty. Slight build. Dark hair. Dressed in a black suit.”

  Hunt was used to hiding his emotions, but the sense of shock he felt at that description must have shown on his face.

  The woman’s eyes narrowed again. “You k
now him, don’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I surely do.”

  “Was he the father of Hannah’s baby?”

  Hunt gave a short laugh. “Not in a million years.” And that was the gospel truth.

  “Then who was he?” Miz Wilma was persistent. He had to give her that. Seeing as how she had a face like a pit bull, it was only natural she would run true to the breed.

  “That there feller was a relation of Miss Hannah’s. A cousin. Goes by the name of Daniel. He’s been living in Chicago nigh on a year now. She probably called him because he knows his way around town.”

  “That makes sense.” The woman seemed satisfied with the explanation.

  “You ever see him come back after that first time?”

  Miz Wilma paused to recollect. “As a matter of fact, I did. A few days ago. He parked outside but never came in. Just stood waiting by his car. He paced back and forth for a while and then drove away.”

  “That sure don’t sound to me like he expected her to hare off on her own. He thought she’d bide here and come out to meet him. Ain’t that so?” He glanced at her for confirmation.

  She nodded gravely. “It looked to me as if he was worried when she didn’t appear.”

  “So how long ago was it she took off?”

  Miz Wilma rubbed her forehead, trying to massage her brain into remembering. “I think she’d been here only a few days. I know we checked her in and assigned her a room. She was here at least two nights and then gone the next afternoon.”

  At that moment, the woman’s attention was diverted by a girl scuttling across the lobby toward the front door. “Loreen!” Miz Wilma commanded. “Get back here and sign out.”

  The girl, who was several months pregnant, shot a guilty look towards the desk and did as she was told.

  “When will you be back?”

  Loreen stared hard at the floor. “A couple of hours. I just need to get some air and do a little shopping.”

  “Uh huh,” Miz Wilma replied. “Be back before curfew.”

  The girl nodded and made a hasty exit.

  Miz Wilma took a few seconds to watch the retreating figure. “She’s not fooling anybody,” the Supervisor said cryptically. Then transferring her attention back to Hunt, she continued. “I have to keep close tabs on all of them. Ordinarily, I see everyone who comes in and goes out, but I take a short break around two. Hannah must have waited until I stepped away from my desk.”

  Hunt was stumped. “You have any notion where she might have gone?”

  “No, I don’t.” Miz Wilma scowled. “She didn’t seem particularly street-smart. That girl was wetter behind the ears than anybody who’s ever come through those doors, and I’ve seen it all.”

  “I do believe you have,” Hunt agreed solemnly. He fished in his coat pocket for a fake business card with his cell phone number on it. Handing it to the woman, he said, “If our little lost lamb calls or stops by, I’d consider it a great favor, ma’am, if you’d give me a jingle. You know, for the sake of her family. It would be a mercy to let them know she’s OK.” He flashed his most winning smile, though he thought it would be lost on her.

  Miz Wilma tapped the card for a few seconds and then reached a decision. “Yes, if she contacts us, I’ll let you know.”

  Leroy tipped his hat and placed it back on his head. “Much obliged, ma’am. You’ve been real helpful. Have a nice day.”

  ***

  An hour and several shots of whiskey later, Leroy sat in a dingy neighborhood bar pondering his options. It had taken a few drinks to get his brain mellow enough to ruminate. Leroy hated cogitation but, at the moment, it was a necessary evil. Luckily, there were few distractions in this old dive. Late afternoon didn’t draw much of a crowd—half a dozen locals scattered at intervals along the length of the bar. Like Leroy, they preferred drinking alone, lost in their own private miseries.

  Hunt sighed at the dilemma placed before him. Miz Wilma had just handed him a stick of dynamite. The question weighing on his mind was whether he could light the fuse without blowing himself up. If he marched back to old Abe and told him his wife had run off with his son’s help, there would be a big enough explosion to knock the Sears Tower off its foundation. Hunt couldn’t afford to create bad blood between the preacher and his boy. Much as he disliked Daniel personally, that runt was his meal ticket—the one person in the world who could lead him to the rest of those doodads. Stirring up a ruckus in the family was sure to queer his chances of collecting the loot. He’d have to fudge part of the story that he was going to tell Abe. In his version, a kindly driver had picked the girl up hitchhiking and dropped her at the shelter. Hunt would have to do a little more digging to figure out where Miss Hannah had gone from there.

  He briefly considered the possibility of letting the girl go her own way but the more he thought about it, the more risk that option presented. She might turn tail and run home to the compound if life outside got to be too rough for her. Or maybe one of Abe’s flunkies might corral her instead of Hunt. In both those scenarios, there was no guarantee she wouldn’t blab to somebody about who helped her escape. The result would be fatal to Leroy’s plans—an end to Daniel meant an end to the relic hunt. As he saw it, there was only one way to deal with the problem. Leroy had to be the one to find her first. That way he could ensure that he brought her back in no condition to talk to anybody. In the movies, bounty hunters always got paid Dead Or Alive, didn’t they?

  Hunt beckoned to the bartender to pour him another shot as he considered a different aspect of the situation—Brother Daniel’s soft spot for Miss Hannah. He surely never saw that one coming. The mercenary rubbed his chin as he reflected deeply on the matter. Maybe this bit of information could work to his advantage. Letting Daniel know that Hunt was on to him would certainly make the boy easier to control down the road. When the time came, Daniel could be made to see the wisdom of turning all the relics over the Hunt without a shot being fired. Leroy didn’t much care whether he had to collect his payday over the boy’s dead body or not, but it was just more high-toned to have an accomplice—no matter how unwilling. At the very least, making Daniel sweat would be a fine way to pass the time as they traveled from place to place. Yessir, Hunt had always been partial to a good puppet show—especially when he was the one pulling the strings.

  Chapter 18 – Deep Cover Girl

  The little bell over the shop door tinkled as Cassie breezed in. “Rhonda?” she called out hopefully.

  A young Hispanic woman bearing a nametag that read “Lupe” stepped from behind the glass counter. “Can I help you?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m a friend of Rhonda’s. I was hoping she was here.”

  “She is. I’m minding the store while she unpacks a shipment.” The woman held aside the curtain to the back room. “Please.”

  “Thanks.” Cassie stepped through the curtain into the dimly-lit store room at the back of the shop. She found Rhonda ripping open a packing crate.

  The older woman looked up. “Cassie! How are you?” She stepped around the carton to greet her visitor with outstretched arms.

  Cassie returned the hug. “I’m fine. How’ve you been?”

  The older woman smiled. “Business has been great. I was just getting ready to deposit a check for your share of this month’s sales.”

  “I love the way you operate.” The pythia searched around for somewhere to sit. She spied a folding chair leaning against a wall and dragged it over to the center of the room. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

  “Of course.” Rhonda drew up a stool and dusted packing straw off of it before seating herself. “An estate sale,” she said. “It was a bigger shipment than I expected.” Changing the topic abruptly, she said, “I imagine you’re getting ready to start classes for the fall semester.”

  The pythia avoided eye contact. “Not exactly.” She knew how anxious Rhonda was for her to resume a normal life after Sybil’s death. “I’m still doing
some work for that group of people I told you about.”

  She could feel the shopkeeper’s eyes studying her.

  “You mean Sybil’s associates?” Rhonda emphasized the last word.

  Cassie cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Yeah, them.”

  Rhonda reached out and tipped her visitor’s chin upward, so their eyes met. “You’ve been awfully evasive about who they are and what you’re doing for them. I’m starting to worry about you.”

  The pythia laughed, trying to make light of the situation. “You don’t need to worry about them or me. We’re all getting along like a house on fire.”

  Rhonda sat bolt upright as a new thought occurred to her. “Oh, I completely forgot. There was a girl—”

  Cassie cut in. “Hannah, yeah I know. She came over to my place. We had a nice visit.”

  “I had no idea you kept in touch with classmates,” the older woman offered.

  The pythia drew a blank. She knew her face must have registered confusion because Rhonda pounced.

  “Cassie, what’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Like you said, I went to school with Hannah. That’s all.”

  “You’re a very bad liar,” Rhonda commented reproachfully.

  At that moment the curtains parted, and Lupe poked her head through. Both Cassie and Rhonda gave a guilty start and tried to recover their composure.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” Lupe said apologetically, “but there’s a customer out here asking about a discounted price on the mahogany armoire. I think you need to talk to her.”

  “Of course,” Rhonda said, jumping off her stool “I’ll be right there.” Turning, she whispered to Cassie, “Don’t you go anywhere.”

  In Rhonda’s absence, the pythia took a few minutes to consider her options. She’d only planned to skim the surface of the truth, but this conversation was heading into deeper waters than she’d intended. Not giving Rhonda at least some of the facts was no longer an option. More than that, keeping her completely ignorant of what was happening might expose her to danger. Cassie sighed and came to a decision.