Revealing Silver

by Jamie Craig

  “Instead of letting the visions happen to you.”

  “Exactly.”

  “How do you propose to test your hypothesis, then?”

  Olivia exhaled. “That’s the part I’m not feeling so good about.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I think I’m going to need Stacy Montenegro’s help. And given everything Gabriel already put her through, I think that’s very, very unfair to her.”

  “And she could outright refuse.”

  “Right. If she says she doesn’t want to, I won’t try to change her mind.”

  “What do you want her to do, exactly?”

  Olivia had thought of little else since she left the Montenegro residence, and she eagerly outlined her plan, explaining both Stacy and Nathan’s role in the effort. It wasn’t a very complicated plan, and it wouldn’t actually require much from either of them. Nathan would be the official chronicler, recording each attempt and taking notes. Stacy wouldn’t have to do anything except be at an agreed-upon place at the right time. Later, she would be able to move freely, ignorant of exactly when Olivia would be attempting to see her with the coin.

  “How often do you plan to practice with the coin?” Nathan asked.

  “As often as I can. I have other cases to solve right now, but if I can see anything I want, then I’ll be able to work on them too.”

  Nathan frowned, obviously full of misgivings, but she didn’t care. If she wasn’t going to let Isaac’s opinion get in the way of the plan, then Nathan’s didn’t stand a great chance of changing her mind.

  “There’s another reason I need to do this,” Olivia said, taking the file from her bag. “I think you should see this.”

  Nathan’s frown deepened as he accepted it. She waited patiently while he read through the report, checked the pictures, read through the report again. “She’s killing them.”

  “That’s what it looks like. I think she killed Sophe, put her in a freezer, someplace she knew to be secure, and then had somebody move the body at an agreed-upon time. This probably took a lot of effort, and there wasn’t a small amount of risk, but she wanted to send a message.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe they already had everything in place so it doesn’t take any effort at all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Take a step back. What would you make of this if you didn’t know about the coins and the ritual? You know she couldn’t have been stuck in a freezer for ten years if she’s only been missing for five. Nearly all of the evidence has either been washed away or destroyed by the thawing. You couldn’t trace this back to Gabriel if you wanted, and in 2000 there’s no inconvenient body to deal with.”

  “But why would she let her die now? She didn’t just keep those girls alive for the past five years, she cared for them, lavished them with attention like pets. The whole plan hinged on them.” Olivia took the file back. “I can see what she’s up to if I can make the coin obey my will.”

  “Tell me what you need me to do.”

  “I’m going to need supplies, but given how many illegal stake-outs I’m sure you pull off, you probably have all the video equipment I might need.”

  “It’s not a problem.”

  “Stacy likes you, so you’re going to come with me tomorrow. That means I need you looking presentable, Nathan. You’re going to be meeting her mother, and I don’t want her to think I’m trying to bring some bum into her home.”

  “A bum?”

  “Yes, a bum. You need to shave, for starters.”

  Nathan rubbed his jaw. “It’s not that bad.”

  “And get some sleep. You’re not going to inspire faith and hope in anybody’s heart if you look all haggard. You need to look like you’re in control of the situation.”

  “I’m not.”

  Olivia covered his hand. “I know, but that’s why it’s important to look like you are. Do you have any clothes that make you look…professional?”

  “I know how to dress myself. You’re beginning to sound like Isaac.”

  “Maybe he could come and lend a hand…”

  “No.”

  Olivia sighed, pulling her hand away. “What is going on, Nathan? You two were fine yesterday.”

  “We weren’t.”

  “You were. I saw you.”

  “No, we weren’t. We were focused on you so we didn’t have the chance to snipe at each other.”

  “He doesn’t want to snipe at you, Nathan. He wants to help you. As we’ve discussed a thousand times before.”

  “You’re right. We have discussed it a thousand times before, so there’s no sense in rehashing any of it now.”

  “What are you going to do when you’ve put so many walls between yourself and Isaac you can’t even see him anymore?”

  Nathan looked up at her question, his eyes awash with such agony that Olivia caught her breath. It barely showed the surface of the great ocean of pain inside of him. For a brief moment, she was privy to every doubt and insecurity, the mask falling away to show all the unshed tears. Then he blinked, and the defenses slid back into place like quickly falling steel shutters.

  “I can’t see him. Not until…”

  “Not until?” Olivia prompted.

  Nathan shook his head, and she didn’t miss the way his gaze darted to the kitchen. Where that goddamned vodka still sat. Maybe it wasn’t the same bottle. In fact, how could she ever know if he was dutifully replacing the bottle every morning? He was an alcoholic, after all, and hiding their drinking was one of their best skills. Maybe that was why he didn’t want Isaac sniffing around here.

  “What time do you want me to be ready tomorrow?”

  “I’ll be here at nine. You’ll be able to get everything?”

  “Yes. Leave it to me.”

  “Then I should go. Do you mind if I get a drink of water?”

  Nathan shook his head, making a help-yourself gesture at the kitchen. As soon as the door shut behind her, Olivia pulled a black marker out of her purse and colored in the corner at the bottom of the label. It wasn’t enough that Nathan would notice it, but she would be able to spot it easily the next morning. If it wasn’t there, she wasn’t sure what she could do about it. Nathan was a grown man and it wasn’t illegal to down a bottle of vodka a night. She might not be able to do anything about it at all, but given how much she needed to trust him, she had the right to know if he was walking around in a vodka-induced haze.

  Gabriel had been arrested and jailed countless times before. Usually, he’d be held overnight, his lawyer would work his magic, money would change hands, favors would be cashed in if necessary, and then he’d be home in time for breakfast. At most, arrests were minor inconveniences that actually had the happy side effect of allowing a full night’s sleep—usually there were too many fires to put out for that. He’d devoted his entire life to summoning the Silver Maiden. He’d started with the modest fortune his father, a small-time drug runner, had managed to save over the years, and a handful of stories Marisol whispered to him over and over again when they were children. His work was never over, and so when the authorities managed to get him behind bars, he enjoyed the reprieve. He emerged from his cell well-rested, ready to pick up where he left off, secure in the knowledge that the wheels kept turning even in his absence.

  His organization was too big now to fall just because he wasn’t at the helm. No matter how determined or dedicated, Detective McGuire would never have the resources, time, or intelligence to dismantle it. Nobody could. That was the brilliance of it. But he hadn’t been eager to test that hypothesis, and each second he spent in jail now passed like an eternity.

  The only person he was allowed to see was his lawyer, and even Charles Preston, Esquire, wasn’t allowed to come and go as he pleased. He visited once a day, only staying an hour. Of course he was thoroughly patted down before and after he left the tiny, locked meeting room. Gabriel also had to endure an annoying check before he was allowed to return to his cell, shuffling down the hall with his ankles s
hackled together. He was pretty sure the time limit was a violation of his civil rights, but nobody else seemed particularly concerned about it. When he mentioned it, the guard in charged snorted and suggested he “tell it to the judge.”

  Charles brought what information he could, given the constraints imposed on them, but Gabriel didn’t care. He was waiting on two pieces of news alone. His release date and Marisol’s whereabouts. If she’d been successful, Gabriel wouldn’t be left twiddling his thumbs behind iron bars, hoping sooner or later his idiot lawyer—and Charles’s equally idiotic team—would get the charges dropped or pled down. His attempt to pay off the judge at the bail hearing had been unsuccessful to say the least, and his own record supported McGuire and Olivia Wright’s testimony that he was a flight risk. Wasn’t that why he kept Charles on retainer for an astronomical fee? So shit like this wouldn’t happen?

  With nothing to fill his hours, not even a pad and a pen, he had a great deal of time to think about the events that landed him there. He’d been so, so close. At the very end of his career, poised to begin his next life, his real life, and the Keeper hauls him off in cuffs. He should have been basking in the love and light of the Silver Maiden, worshipping her with Marisol at his side. But now everything was falling apart. If Marisol had returned, she hadn’t been in contact with anybody. Since she wouldn’t let him languish in jail without a word, Gabriel was forced to conclude she was still preparing the girls. There couldn’t be any other option that explained a delay in her preparations. He wouldn’t accept any other explanation.

  Not even from himself. The preparations should be done now. He silenced that voice, even though it was the echo of his father. His father had never steered him wrong or put him on the incorrect path. Listening to that voice had even saved his life a few times. Marisol should have knocked down the whole city block to rescue him. And she wasn’t quite as sentimental as he was. He might be tempted to show mercy to Olivia, and maybe even Remy, but nothing would move Marisol to the same consideration. She’d destroy all of the Silver Maiden’s enemies, including McGuire, Pierce, the delightful Remy, and the Keeper herself.

  Patience. Patience. Wasn’t that what Marisol always whispered in his ear when the call of the coins became too much to bear and he felt like he was dying for the Silver Maiden? Just for the sight of her. He used to be patient. Back when he had an empire to build and all the time in the world, he understood patience. Good things came to those who were willing to wait, who sacrificed the short-term pleasure for long-term gain. But he believed his days of sacrifice to be over, and he didn’t want to wait another night.

  Other than McGuire, Gabriel had no visitors on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, or the day after. He’d received gifts from his family, each one torn open and quickly searched before they allowed him to take the tokens. The year before, he’d thrown one of the largest Christmas parties in Los Angeles, surrounded by some of the most powerful men in the area. Not the business owners and the politicians, but the ones who gave them purpose. The criminals, the families that looked the other direction, the traffickers, the pimps, the weapons dealers. They were the ones who kept the billion-dollar corrections industry rolling in the state. Now he was with the other half.

  He was beginning to feel quite unloved and unappreciated, not to mention concerned about the plan, when Olivia herself arrived to speak to him. Gabriel couldn’t contain his smile of delight when she stepped into the room, the very picture of health and professionalism. He had to admit, as much as he disliked McGuire and his ex-partner, he heartily approved of their taste in women. Remy was a piece of work. Clearly a descendant of the Silver Maiden. But Olivia was something else altogether. A woman who got the best of him without even being aware of the true power she wielded. He found her more than a little attractive. But then, how could he not get turned on by a woman who stared down the barrel of gun without so much as a gleam of fear in her eye? He lived because she’d allowed him to live. Just the thought made his groin tighten. “When the guard told me I had a visitor, I thought it would be the rather dour Detective McGuire. He’s a deeply unhappy man.”

  “He’s not the topic of our conversation today,” Olivia said curtly, sitting in the chair across from him.

  “That’s a shame. I think we have a lot to discuss. I’d love to trade notes.”

  “Know him well, do you?”

  “I know him well enough. He’s been hunting me for ten years. And I’ve been staying one step ahead.” Gabriel leaned forward. “But when somebody walks that close to you for so long, you form a deeper understanding.”

  “I’m not interested in your opinions on Detective McGuire.”

  “What are you interested in?”

  “I have some questions for you.”

  “Is this an interrogation? Because I’m not going to answer anything without my attorney present.”

  “No, this isn’t an interrogation. You don’t have to say anything at all. I wanted to show you something.”

  Gabriel shrugged and brushed imaginary grime from his orange jumpsuit. “I hope it’s something interesting. There’s been so little to occupy my time for the past few days.”

  “I think it’s quite interesting myself. In fact, one of the most interesting cases I’ve ever seen.” She put a folder on the table and flipped it open. “Go ahead. Have a look.”

  He sighed, pulling it closer. There was no harm in glancing at what she’d brought. It was at least something to disrupt the monotony of his day and give him something new to think about. But his indifference evaporated when he reached the third picture and realized who he was looking at. He knew all the girls Marisol had identified as being part of the sacred lines. He considered himself like a distant stepfather, or maybe a loving but busy uncle. Somebody who lavished them with gifts on holidays and saw to their basic needs, but didn’t necessarily have anything to do with them on a day-to-day basis. Even so, he knew their names, their favorite colors, their preferred movies and books, even what they liked to eat for dinner.

  “What is this? A trick?”

  “Not a trick.”

  “It has to be a trick.”

  “I assure you, Mr. de los Rios, it’s not a trick.”

  “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but this girl isn’t dead.”

  “According to the body in the morgue, you’re quite mistaken on that point.”

  “No. No, she’s not…” Gabriel closed the file and pushed it away from him. “She’s not.”

  “Well, you can say that until you’re blue in the face. It doesn’t change the facts. Fingerprint and dental records have confirmed this is Sophe Saucedo. She was murdered by a blunt object. It connected with her head hard enough to fracture the skull and she probably bled to death in minutes. If the massive brain trauma didn’t do her in first.”

  “You’re mistaken. The fingerprints are mistaken.”

  “No, I’m afraid there’s no mistake. Because of you, this girl is dead. She probably died alone and scared. And very far from home. I don’t know if you saw the most interesting detail, but they think she might have been dead for quite some time. A decade, in fact.”

  Gabriel swallowed. That couldn’t be. Marisol would never hurt the girls. They were far too rare, too precious, to even harm a hair on their heads. Things had gotten a little out of control with Stacy, unfortunately, but they never meant to harm her. The man responsible for putting her in the hospital had reached his own unfortunate end. Marisol had spent years and years of her life tracking the girls down, and another seven years caring for them, living with them, raising them into young women who could serve the Silver Maiden with pride and dedication.

  “She was shoved into a freezer,” Olivia continued. “Possibly while she was still alive. Yesterday a passing motorist discovered her on the side of the road. Now, who would dump a body on the side of the road? Can you think of why anybody would want to do that?”

  “I don’t know anything.”

  “We both know tha
t’s a lie. I can’t prosecute you for this, Gabriel. I have no physical evidence linking you to the crime, and while kidnapping is prosecutable, forcing girls to travel back in time isn’t. I don’t think you want the other girls to die. I think if you were willing to take that chance, you would have killed Stacy. But you didn’t.”

  “I don’t know anything.”

  “Yes, you do. Why would Marisol kill this girl?”

  “She wouldn’t.”

  “But she did,” Olivia pressed.

  “No. She would never do that.”

  “Who else would shove a girl into a freezer to be discovered on Christmas Day in 2010? Maybe you’re right, and some unknown third party killed this particular girl. Would he have stopped there? Don’t you think the other girls might in trouble? Or Marisol herself?”

  Gabriel met her unwavering gaze, wondering if she could look right through him. The Silver Maiden’s powers were rumored to include a variety of abilities, including mind reading. But no, if Olivia could read his mind, she wouldn’t be looking at him so calmly right now. The images he had of her would make even the most hardened cold case detective blush and shift uncomfortably.

  “Where would she have kept her? Give me an address, Gabriel.”

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “I won’t stick another murder charge to your long, long list of offenses.”

  “You don’t have the evidence to make the charge stick.”

  Olivia leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Do you think you’re the only one who has friends in high places? You’re willing to play dirty. Well, Mr. de los Rios, so am I. Tell me where she would store a body for ten years.”

  “I can tell my lawyer you threatened me.”

  “You could. But you won’t.”

  “I don’t know where she could have kept the body.”

  “I don’t know what you hope to gain by lying to me. And aren’t you a little bit curious to know what happened? I know this wasn’t part of the plan. I saw your face when you realized who the girl was. Something’s gone wrong and you know it.”

  Gabriel had learned at a young age that sometimes it was best to shut his mouth and keep it shut. Olivia wasn’t going to get another word from him, and he didn’t care what she threatened him with, or what she claimed to know. He knew the truth. Marisol would not kill the priestesses.