Sapphire Nights: Crystal Magic, Book 1

by Patricia Rice

  The person on the path wasn’t as surreptitious. They walked right up past the rose bed with their flashlight still on. Heart pounding, Sam waited in the shadows of the wall. There were only two houses out here, the studio and Cass’s place. The person would have to walk right past her to reach the mansion.

  Did she make herself known or follow them?

  The light hesitated at her driveway. The figure was tall and lean and quite possibly male, judging by shoulder width. The silhouette of long hair tied at the nape made her doubt her assessment until she remembered Harvey, the guitarist at the diner. A car door slamming up by the cemetery caused him to flick off his light.

  The evening fog was rolling in, but she could see enough to follow him as he walked down the drive to the road. She had absolutely no reason to be suspicious, except that was apparently what she did. Was that telling her something from her past?

  He didn’t try to hide as he strolled toward the cemetery. She was probably out of her gourd to even bother keeping up with him. But her head was empty and needed filling, apparently.

  He grew more cautious as he approached the cemetery. The car had turned off its beams and engine. The night was still. The wisps of fog could easily be mistaken for spectral figures forming and dissipating. An eerie creak caused her to bite her tongue and freeze, before she realized what it might be—the door to the Kennedy vault.

  How many people had keys to the vault?

  Harvey—if it was he—halted. His shadow nearly blended in with that of a fairly young pine. A moment later, a car swung back to the road. It turned on its beams at the curve leading downhill toward town. Sam didn’t know one car from another but this was a large SUV in a light color, like the one Carmel Kennedy had used earlier that day.

  She waited until the hidden man started back down the road, swinging his flashlight beam. He wasn’t really trying to hide—except from the car. Interesting, but not enough to raise even her suspicion. After all, she was doing the same exact thing—being nosy.

  She needed to get a life—if only she could remember where she’d left it.

  Walker cruised into Hillvale a little over half an hour after the shots-fired report. The deputy on duty had been writing up a bar fight in Baskerville and had been relieved when Walker had agreed to take the call. He had used his flashers and the safest speed possible on that narrow road, but the town was isolated. They couldn’t expect instant response. If they’d had to wait on the assigned officer, it could have been another hour or more.

  Dinah’s café was closed and dark, as were all the other shops. He found Valdis and several of her sycophants waiting at the base of the road leading to the lodge. They huddled around a small campfire and gazed up at him expectantly when he climbed out. Had he been in the city, he would call it a homeless encampment, but they had homes when they weren’t fomenting trouble.

  “Did security shoot at you for trespassing?” he asked.

  “Menendez land isn’t theirs,” Val said snottily. “We have permission to use that land. But we heard shouts and gunfire as we came down the path. They came from up near the lodge. Has anyone filed a report?”

  “Just you. Has anyone come down from the lodge since you heard the shots?”

  They were nicely located on the only car access to the inn, so they would see anyone making a vehicle escape.

  “The big white Escalade Carmel uses,” Val said in satisfaction. “It went out right after we heard the shots and came back not long after. The engine will probably be cold by the time you get up there though.”

  Spoken like a true mystery aficionado. He wouldn’t have pegged Val as one.

  “Go home. If I need you, I’ll let you know,” Walker said curtly, returning to his car.

  That they were camping out here, reporting unusual occurrences probably meant that the Lucys were up to something.

  Since the women might be slightly deranged but were generally not vindictive, he didn’t worry about them. He drove on up to the lodge, watching for any unusual activity. Most of the guests were sound asleep in their beds, if the darkened windows were any indication.

  Xavier Black and Alan Gump from the real estate company emerged from the restaurant and headed for Alan’s BMW. Late for a dinner, but they were probably having a business meeting with Kurt. Gump had a long drive back to the city, but Black lived locally. They didn’t appear to be carrying guns, and he’d rather not speak with guests.

  But out of curiosity, Walker pulled into the private parking lot the Kennedys used. The Escalade was there. The hood wasn’t warm, but there was no condensation on the windows. He looked at Kurt’s Mercedes next to it—the fog had formed a thin layer of moisture across the windshield. Carmel or her driver had been out, but that was meaningless. For all he knew, they might have been in San Francisco and had just returned.

  The light was on in Lance’s studio. Carmel’s artistic brother kept odd hours and tended to leave the light burning night and day. The man barely knew how to feed himself. Walker doubted he’d be out shooting guns. Disturbing him would mean enduring a tour of his gallery while he mumbled through whatever was in his head. Lance wasn’t much better than a Lucy except that he seldom went anywhere.

  Walker drove around back to the security office. Alonzo was the evening shift officer in charge. He got off the phone as soon as Walker entered.

  “What brings you out here at this hour?” Alonzo asked, rightfully curious.

  “Report of shots fired,” Walker said without expression, waiting for reaction.

  Alonzo shrugged. “Bernard thought he saw a cougar near the dumpsters. We’ve told him not to disturb the guests, but he’s young and stupid.”

  “Mind if I take a look around anyway? Just to show I’m doing my job?”

  “Sure, knock yourself out. I’ll take my break and get some coffee. I’ll let Bernard know you’re out there so he doesn’t try to shoot you too.”

  “Generous of you,” Walker said wryly.

  Cats and bears in the garbage were nothing new. The Lucys knew that. It was illegal as hell to shoot at them in a residential area, but people out here hunted. That’s what they did and there wasn’t any stopping them. So why did the Lucys want him here?

  He strolled around to the dumpsters, but there wasn’t enough light to check for tracks in the woods. The pavement showed no dusty paw prints, but that didn’t mean much. He didn’t find any shell casings either, but Bernard might have been smart enough to pick those up.

  Circling the sprawling lodge, he found Bernard sneaking a cigarette by the glass-enclosed swimming pool. “Do you think you wounded the cat?” Walker asked, admiring the expanse of glistening blue water in an area surrounded by parched and dry.

  Bernard looked startled, then shrugged. “Nah, just scared him off.”

  Bernard was a lousy liar. He puffed his cigarette to hide his nervousness.

  “You shouldn’t be using firearms around here. Just keep guests away from the cat and call the game warden. A wounded lion can cause a lot of trouble, and if she has a litter, someone is bound to report it. Don’t lose your job over an animal.”

  The kid didn’t look happy about the reprimand, but he nodded. “Sorry to bring you out for nothing.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll just crash here for the night. Let me know if the cat comes back.” Not satisfied, Walker continued his survey of the guest cabins further up the hill, but all the lights were out.

  An owl screeched deeper in the woods. He shuddered and headed back to the lodge. Instinct told him something was off, but this was private property. He could only push so far with no evidence of criminal activity.

  Chapter 10

  “How did you find out about Hillvale?” Sam asked Dinah the next morning on the fourth day of her new life. She wiped down the counter as her employer re-filled the pastry shelves. “Is the area well known in circles I don’t belong to?”

  Dinah laughed. “The whole point of Hillvale is that no one knows of it except those wealthy
enough to stay at the lodge. You tell someone you’re packing up and leaving for New Orleans, they know right where to find you. You tell them you’re going to Hillvale, and it could be anywhere.”

  “That’s going to change,” the big blond guy in the tailored suit at the end of the counter corrected.

  Grumpy Gump, the real estate mogul. Dinah elbowed her, and Sam remembered no one talked to him. But she needed information.

  “Why is that?” Sam asked, taking money from a customer at the register.

  “When you have a lot of wealthy people congregating, like in Vail or Jackson Hole, people hear about it. Once we get the condos built and the ski lift in, we’re going to be the next Vail.” Golden Boy wiped his mouth with a napkin.

  Dinah snorted and slammed back into the kitchen. Sam could see why. A ski lift in this tranquil town?

  “I’ve lived a sheltered life,” she said, closing the register. “Explain why I should know about Vail if I’m not a skier?”

  “If you want to make money, you go where the money is,” he said as if to a simpleton.

  “Ah, and the people who currently live here do so because they don’t want to make money. They want quiet lives to be themselves in an area they can afford. Got it.” Sam smiled and abandoned the real estate mogul to wait on a customer.

  He glared, left his money on the counter, and slammed out the door.

  She wasn’t very good at this interrogation bit. She hadn’t learned a thing this morning but managed to irritate a rich customer. She almost looked up in relief when Walker blew in, looking crisp in a fresh uniform, his dark hair recently washed and slicked back.

  “Any chance you can get away for an hour or two?” he asked gruffly, studying the breakfast crowd.

  Dinah immediately reappeared. “Why you ask?”

  Obviously understanding that every ear in the place listened, he leaned on the counter and replied in a low voice. “Because Val has turned banshee, and I need a translator.”

  Dinah looked somber and yanked at Sam’s apron strings. “Go, girl. Mariah will come in to take your place.”

  “Why can’t Mariah translate? I don’t know Val,” Sam protested.

  “’Cause, just ’cause. Go.”

  “I think I’m here to be the town stooge,” Sam grumbled as she followed the deputy out. “Everyone knows more than I do. Explain why Mariah can’t do this. What am I supposed to translate? Do I know a foreign language?”

  “Mariah sent me to get you.” Walker opened the door of his official vehicle and let her in the passenger seat. “My psychic guessing powers say the Lucys need you for reasons only they understand. Maybe you’re some kind of trigger that makes them logical.”

  Sam almost laughed. “That’s not happening. What do you mean about Val turning banshee?”

  “She’s way above the Menendez land wailing like a wounded catamount. Her usual tribe is refusing to climb past the skeleton site and demanding that I fetch you. You are the only rational person any of us know, apparently.”

  “Charmed, I’m sure.” Sam watched the cultivated landscape of the resort pass by. Once they drove through the lodge’s parking lot, Walker turned up a gravel road that deteriorated to ruts.

  “Old timber road. The Menendez family may own land up here, but they’ve never built any other entry. They’ve apparently claimed some right of way that the Kennedys have paved over. Rather than argue, both families share access. It’s not as if any of them comes up here more than twice a year.”

  “So, applying my psychic guessing powers, the Menendez family probably does own the right of way or the Kennedys would have put up gates and locks. I wonder if I’m really this cynical or if not knowing who I am has changed me?”

  Walker shot her an admiring glance that tingled her spine and heated her cheeks. Sam glanced out the window so he couldn’t see.

  “If you’re smart now, you were smart before. And I don’t think you learned about people in a couple of days at a café. You may be feeling comfortable mouthing off here where no one knows you, but that’s the best I can offer.”

  “Stripped of my façade, I’ve become my real self?” she asked with a laugh, until Walker stopped the car and bent to look out the windshield.

  She did the same. Up on a rock formation taller than the vehicle was a familiar scarecrow draped in black rags. Someone needed to buy Val some new clothes. Might be hard to replace the long black veil though.

  Her mournful operatic cry had silenced even the crows.

  “I trust I’m not supposed to translate wailing?” Sam asked dubiously.

  “When the Lucys told me she was up here, I tried talking with her. She rattled on about crows and gravestones and the past returning to haunt us.” Walker looked more concerned than angry at Val’s descent into madness. They both knew she could speak normally when she chose.

  “I doubt I can translate symbolism either. Why don’t you go back down and pick up whichever Lucys are most lucid? If they don’t want to make that climb up to Val, I can. I’ll see what I can get, then come back down and maybe they can translate.”

  “Tried that,” Walker said gloomily. “They refuse to walk on evil. You want to start with translating that?”

  “Not touching it,” Sam said fervently. “I haven’t defined evil yet either. So okay, that’s why Mariah isn’t up here. The Lucys find something about this area evil and are fearful of polluting their so-called powers with it. I can almost understand that.”

  “That’s more than I can do. Want me to help you up there?”

  “I have no idea. Unless I led a really secluded life, though, I’m guessing I spent a good amount of time scrambling around rocks. What else is there to do in Utah?” Sam got out without waiting for Walker to open the door. “I don’t like snakes,” she added, watching for slithery creatures in the rocks. Apparently primal fears were more memorable than whether she took cream in her coffee.

  As she located footholds in the craggy boulders, Walker got out to keep an eye on her. She hoped his radio signal worked so he could call an ambulance if needed. She was wearing well-padded athletic shoes, but they weren’t boots by any means.

  She didn’t feel comfortable on this side of the valley, as she had over by the cemetery. The morning fog still lingered, making it damp and cool. And the earth. . . just didn’t feel as welcoming. There was a sharp—oily?—quality that made her think of clammy caves and old bones. Was that weird? Maybe not, if the Lucys sensed it.

  Val’s keening lessened as Sam climbed. She could almost talk over the racket once she got close.

  “Are you in pain?” Sam asked, taking a seat on a flat rock near Val’s feet.

  “The universe cries in pain at the injustice,” Val keened in a wail that at least contained words.

  “That’s not news. What injustice brought you up here today?” The rock was cold, and Uneasiness quivered in her middle. She didn’t much like this setting. At this early hour, chilly wind blew in from the coast, lifting the hair off the back of her neck.

  “They kill, they kill without punishment! They litter the mountain with bodies, and the gods cry out for justice. Look at the crows—five! First there were four, now there are five! The mountain weeps.”

  “So, the new crow means someone died out here last night?” Sam asked, using her wildly imaginative psychic power of guessing.

  “Evil seeks evil,” Val said mournfully.

  “Is the evil nearby?” So much for psychic guessing. She was starting to feel as if she were the insane person, sitting here tempting snakes while talking to a banshee.

  Sam glanced down at Walker. He leaned against the hood of the car, arms crossed, keeping a sharp eye on them. She hoped he wasn’t expecting Val to attack her.

  Val pointed a long bony finger. “There. They dumped him there. The animals have already found him.”

  Sam’s blood curdled. She followed the direction of Val’s finger, but she saw nothing but rocks and scrub trees. No animals, no body, not even crows
. Another skeleton?

  “Did they do it last night?” she asked cautiously. For all she knew, Val could be remembering her childhood.

  “That’s when the spirit rose,” Val said with a definite nod. “You heard him. We all heard him. He howled his anguish.”

  Remembering the cry that had woken her, Sam really got spooked. “Did you see what happened?”

  “The world sees,” Val cried, gesturing dramatically at their surroundings. “The stars, the moon, the birds in the trees—they all know when a life is taken. He must be mourned and his spirit laid to rest.”

  If Sam was translating correctly, someone had died last night, and been dumped up here in these rocks.

  She hastily scrambled down off her perch, to the safety of Deputy Walker—who was already striding toward her, ready to catch her if she fell.

  Chapter 11

  Walker held out his arms to catch the Nordic beauty descending the rocks so hastily that her platinum hair flew in a breeze of her own making. She practically fell into him, and he held her like that, letting her catch her breath—enjoying the fresh scent and firm curves of a woman for the first time in over a year.

  He was too male not to notice how well her tattered jeans fit her hips and the way her loose shirt clung to her breasts—while they anticipated death. Nice, Walker, real nice.

  Warily, reluctantly, he set her back. He wasn’t ready for anything resembling a relationship, and someone as young as Sam had commitment written all over her.

  “I think you may need cadaver dogs. Is that what they call them?” she asked, brushing nervously at wisps of hair escaping her disheveled pony-tail.

  She sounded normal, but she was pale as death and breathing erratically. Walker wanted to crush her against him and return her to the laughing know-it-all she’d been while driving up here, but he was on duty, and she was off limits.

  “There’s another body?” he asked grimly.

  “You asked me to translate.” She marched back to the truck, her shoulders stiff.