As if Kateri owed her a report. About anything. “About?”
“Any word about the box our father sent you?”
“Rainbow is not … not out of her coma yet. No one expects that she will live through this.”
“So you’re going to give up on the possessions our father sent you?”
Sudden irritation scratched at Kateri, like sea salt on an open wound. “Are they important?”
Her snappishness gave Lilith the chance to be calm, logical and patronizing. “The raven is of historical importance. You know that, Katherine.”
“That raven is almost alive. If he wishes to return to me, he will.” Kateri pivoted on her heel and, using her stick, stalked out of the room, past Phoebe with her tray of ice water.
Phoebe must have enjoyed the little scene, for she smiled smugly.
Merida hurried ahead toward the door on the left. She used a key in the lock, tapped in a code on the keypad and used her thumbprint to get inside. She held the door for Kateri and Lacey, then shut the door behind them and locked them in.
Kateri felt she locked Lilith out. “That woman. Lilith. My sister.” She could hardly speak for annoyance. “I’ve set a watch on Rainbow’s house because I believe she is going to try and search it. What does that say about me?”
Merida took the small backpack off her shoulder, put it on the table and pulled out her tablet. She typed, “What does it say about her?”
“That she’s desperate. And I’m suspicious. Has there ever been anything Lilith wanted she didn’t get?”
“Actually, I think many things. When I look at her, I see a woman eaten up with envy. Of you.”
Kateri laughed a litle. “No. She couldn’t be so patronizing and still envy me.”
Merida sank into one of the dining chairs, and leaned down to offer her hand to Lacey.
Lacey seemed cautious with Merida, sniffing her fingers, allowing her to pet her, but not snuggling as she had with Lilith.
Merida gave Kateri such a look of wisdom, Kateri laughed again.
“I shouldn’t let her irritate me so.”
Merida nodded.
Her calm combination of signing and text soothed Kateri’s ire, made her feel a little less exasperated and more rational, and helped her focus on her errand here. “Let’s talk about this morning. Someone called you and threatened you.”
“Yes,” Merida signed.
“A man?”
Merida nodded again.
“Tell me exactly what he said.”
Merida straightened up, started to pick up her tablet.
Kateri stopped her. “No. Use your hands. Tell me what he said.” She wanted to see the look on Merida’s face, interpret her expressions, her gestures. More and more, she didn’t trust Merida.
Merida signed, “He said, ‘Be careful. They’re hunting you. Remember, you cannot scream.’”
“Did you recognize his voice?”
Merida shook her head, but her eyes held that faraway expression as if she was looking at a time past.
“What happened to your face?” Kateri pulled a line on her own cheek where the bloody scratch marred Merida’s skin.
Merida lifted her fingers to the mark, then signed, “I was running. I fell into the hedge next door.”
She was lying. Kateri was sure of it. “Merida, don’t discount this as a prank. Threats like that are serious.”
“It wasn’t really a threat, was it? More of a warning.”
“Who would warn you? Who are they?”
Again Merida shook her head, but she spelled, “I thought I had left everyone behind. But your sister is here.”
“She recognized you from India. She said … you were married then, and your name was Helen.”
“Yes. Nauplius created me out of the ashes. He remade me. He named me. I was his … invention.” Merida looked at her hands as if she could not believe the things she had said. “He’s dead. Someone else must be here.” Merida leaned her palms against the table, pressing hard as if she could shove her troubles away. “None of them have any reason to waste their time chasing after me. I’m not news. Nauplius’s children are vindictive and foolish, but I walked away with comparably little money and I’m not worth tracking.”
“It’s not always money.”
“No one knows that better than me.”
Kateri watched Lacey wander toward the door and lean against it as if the emotions in this room urged her out. “Do you know anyone in Virtue Falls you trust?”
Merida looked at Kateri.
“Besides me. I’m the sheriff and I’m dealing with big problems. Last night we had a woman slashed to death. Every female in this town is in danger.”
Merida nodded acknowledgment. She signed, “I do have someone I can trust. For the moment, at least. Please, concentrate and find the murderer. That is the best thing you can do now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Merida locked the door after Kateri and leaned her head against the wood. She could not believe this. It was impossible, and yet it was happening.
Damn Nauplius Brassard. Damn his soul to hell.
Going upstairs, she retrieved her laptop. She got to her browser and made a dinner reservation, then entered her code and got into her charts, her spreadsheet, her projections. She surveyed the current updates. Every indicator pointed to a rousing success, provided she took it slow and easy. But not much longer …
She pushed a few more triggers and left the program to update while she showered. She dressed in a red sleeveless shift that showed off her bird of prey tattoo to perfection. She applied makeup, maximizing her smoky blue eyes and minimizing the scratch on her cheek. Again she checked the laptop. At five, she backed up her drive, locked up the computer and put the backup in her silver Miu Miu handbag. She dug in her closet and found her red patent Fendi fuck-me heels, the heels she had promised herself she would only ever wear again in an emergency.
This qualified as an emergency.
She slid her feet into the heels, stood and silently sighed at the discomfort. She made her way downstairs to the dining room, where rows of knights held their weapons erect in, she was sure, appreciation. Without her previous hesitation, she left the safety of her rooms, locking the door behind her, and ventured out, seeking a champion. She walked to the parlor, where the guests were already gathering for their wine and appetizers, and posed in the doorway.
Conversation died.
Sean Weston loudly whispered, “Wow.”
Dawkins Cipre said, “That’s more like it!”
For a moment, Elsa’s eyes flashed with envy—the same envy Merida saw in Phoebe’s eyes, and Lilith’s.
Benedict Howard said nothing, but he watched her over the rim of his glass like a cat watches a mouse hole.
She understood each reaction. The foundation, the highlighter, the eye shadow, the mascara, the clothes, the shoes—she had once more created the fantasy, becoming Helen, the face that launched a thousand ships.
But she was only interested in one ship. She walked to Benedict and put her hand on his arm. She showed him her tablet and waited while he read, “I’ve made reservations at the Virtue Falls Resort for this evening at seven, if you’d like to go.”
He looked at her hand, looked at her face, put his drink down. “Thank you. Let me go put on a tie.”
She took her hand away. “I’ll meet you at my car.” She watched him leave.
Ironic to think that the man who now she trusted was the man who had once tried to kill her. One thing she’d learned from that experience: Benedict Howard didn’t murder until he got what he wanted.
And he hadn’t yet gotten what he wanted from her. Not this time.
She was safe with him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Bergen slapped the flat of his hand on Kateri’s office door. “When are you going home?”
Lacey lifted her head from the chair where she snoozed.
Both dog and sheriff glared at him blearily. Kateri said, “
When the paperwork’s done.”
He snorted. “Then you’re never going home.”
“I know.” She tucked strands of hair back into her braid. “I’ve got to hire a replacement for Mona.”
“Mona’s unemployed. You could always hire her again.”
“Are you nuts?”
He laughed. “Yeah … the only thing she ever did well was mess around with Councilman Venegra. Because, you know, sequined knee pads.” Bergen came around the desk, handed her her walking stick and lifted her to her feet. “You’ve been working for sixteen hours straight. You’re in pain. You’re irritable. We’re in crisis mode. We need our sheriff to be alert.”
She hated that he was right.
She hated that Lacey leaped down and frisked around.
Kateri needed about ten hours of sleep before she could frisk. Yanking her arm free, she leaned heavily on her stick and marched into the patrol room. “What about you? You’ve been on duty longer than I have.”
“I did a face-plant in the break room for three hours this afternoon.”
She started to laugh. “You fit on that puny love seat?”
“I didn’t say I fit on it. I said I slept on it.” He pushed her toward the outside door. “Go get some food and some sleep. For Lacey’s sake.”
All the irritation oozed out of her. “Yes. I think I’d better.” With Lacey at her heels, she headed for the door and met Moen walking in.
He looked better, less haunted, recovered as only a young man with a clean conscience could be. He asked, “Need a ride, Sheriff?”
“No, thanks, Moen. I think we’ll walk home, work out the kinks.”
“Okay. G’night, Sheriff.” He headed inside.
She opened the door. She stepped outside.
From somewhere, she heard a deep, muffled boom!
Lacey barked once, sharply.
On the northern outskirts of town, a dark plume of smoke rose.
She stepped back inside. “Moen,” she called. “Now I need a ride.”
* * *
The scene was carnage; one small house exploded, houses on either side burning, three fire engines parked at the curb while their men battled the flames, and two of Virtue Falls’ policemen stood over the prostrate form of a tall, skinny, sobbing man.
She recognized him. Kevin Wilson, official loser.
“Moen, you come with me. Lacey, you stay here.” When Lacey whined pitifully, Kateri said, “We don’t want the firefighters running over you and we definitely don’t want you on the ground if there is, God forbid, another explosion.”
As always, Lacey seemed to understand. She stayed in the car, paws perched at the edge of the rolled-down window, watching eagerly.
Police officer and friend Ed Legbrandt gestured to Kateri. “You’ll want to hear this, Kateri … um, Sheriff.”
She limped over, Moen at her side. She knelt beside Kevin, grabbed his greasy hair and lifted his head. In a deliberately charming tone, she asked, “Little man, what’s the matter?”
He had a bruise across his chin, a busted lip and big wet tears. “I rented that place. Paid good cash for it. And he blew it up.”
Suspicion made her voice deepen. “He?”
Kevin sniffled. “John Terrance.”
She looked up at Legbrandt.
He nodded and mouthed: Told you so.
She did not smash Kevin’s face into the sidewalk. She thought she should get points for that. “John Terrance blew up your rented house. Why?”
“I figured … figured … figured if he wasn’t making meth anymore, someone could cash in big time. Why not me?”
“Why not indeed?”
“So I rented this place, was cooking the stuff, sold my first on the street yesterday and today I’m in the kitchen and I smell something funny. Not what I’m cooking, you know? So I turn around and there’s John, looking pissed as a yellow stream. He’s holding a can of gas, pouring it in a circle around me, and he says, ‘Better get out while you can, you miserable little…’ I didn’t hang around to hear what he called me. He was smoking a cigarette and I thought … damn it!” Kevin twisted his head so hard Kateri lost her grip on his greasy hair. He looked at the blackened explosion site. “Yesterday I bought the first ripe organic tomatoes from Joe’s Garden and he blew them up!”
Moen perked up. “Joe’s Garden has a new crop of tomatoes? They’re the best!”
“I know. Right?” Kevin said.
Kateri wiped her hand on her pants, got laboriously to her feet and grabbed Moen by the lapels. “Never mind the tomatoes. John Terrance is in town. Somewhere. Make the call, make sure every officer is looking for him. I’ll take the patrol car. And Lacey. You stick here, coordinate with Legbrandt, supervise the cleanup.”
“Where are you going?”
“To the Gem Lounge.” Her phone rang. Her pager vibrated. She answered and looked at her message “Yep. The Gem Lounge. That bastard is looking for revenge. Against everyone.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Kateri flipped on her lights and her siren and drove hell-for-leather toward downtown.
Officer Weston reported shots fired at the Gem Lounge.
Bergen reported John Terrance was headed for the harbor; Bergen had alerted the Coast Guard, and he and Officer Chippen were in hot pursuit.
“You’ve got that covered?” she asked. “Because I’m backup at the Gem Lounge.”
“Go for it,” he said.
Three minutes later she parked along the curb where two of her cops were trying to interview the thirty excited citizens who milled around gesturing, talking and slapping each other on the back.
She took a long breath. Back-slapping constituted a situation well in hand.
She keyed into Bergen and heard him shouting, “We’ve got him cornered. He’s cornered!”
“Good man.” This would all be over soon. For now, she needed to know that Bertha was alive. With Lacey at her heels, she hurried toward the saloon. People turned to her, shouting various versions of, “He was here! John Terrance was here! And Bertha—”
“Is okay or you all wouldn’t be smiling so broadly.” She hurried through the door.
Broken bottles and glasses littered the floor, and the odor of beer, whisky and gin almost drove her backward over the threshold.
The place was empty except for Sean Weston, who stood at the bar holding a sawed-off shotgun and murmuring soothingly up at the red-faced and obviously livid Bertha … who stood on the bar kicking at the shattered liquor bottles and cursing John Terrance’s name in English, Norwegian and a few languages Kateri didn’t recognize.
Calm descended on Kateri.
The bad-tempered woman was apparently unhurt.
Kateri scooped up Lacey to protect her paws from the broken glass, strolled over to a bar stool, used a napkin to dry it and seated herself, Lacey in her lap. She waved Sean Weston away and waited until Bertha wound down. “So, Bertha, how’s it going?” she asked.
That started Bertha off again. “I just had Tom in here to build me a new bar, solid walnut, and that limp prick John Terrance slashed the wood and ruined the finish. Ruined it!”
“I can see that.” Big cuts in the bar. Deep. “What’d he use?”
“A machete.”
“And…?”
“I pulled my sawed-off shotgun out from under the bar and aimed it at him. Told him he was an idiot to bring a knife to a gunfight. I thought he was going to take another swing at me—”
“Wait. Back up.” Kateri shed a little of her professional calm. “When did he swing at you with the machete?”
“He came in through the back. Sneaked up behind me, the snot-nosed little coward, and he would have got me, too, but Berk Moore shrieked like a trussed-up opera singer. I dove for the floor. That’s when Terrance took the first chunk out of the bar. There.” Bertha pointed. “He buried the blade deep enough he had trouble prying it loose, and that gave me the time to grab the shotgun. By now the crowd was screaming and running out
side, which was a goddamn good thing since Terrance started backing toward the back door. I yelled at everybody to hit the deck and when John Terrance turned to run I peppered his behind with buckshot. I was hoping to kill him but the last I saw he was still moving. You got him in custody?”
Kateri checked. “Not yet.” She cradled Lacey in one arm and offered her hand. “You look silly up there. Let me help you down.”
“I’m going to need more than your help.” Bertha looked sheepish. “When I jumped up here, I think I broke something.”
“Like a bone?” Kateri asked. “You jumped?”
“I was just so goddamn mad.”
Kateri called, “Sean, you need to call the EMTs.”
Sean reappeared at her side. “I already did. She was listing a little to one side, so…” He climbed onto a bar stool, wrapped his arms around Bertha’s waist and asked, “That okay?”
“Okay? It’s great.” Bertha grinned at him. “I don’t often get a young, handsome, buff guy hugging me.”
He smiled back. “I can hardly believe that.”
“Shitkicker.” She braced herself while he lifted her. He did not place her on the stool.
Kateri reached up and helped steady her.
Bertha looked down. “Honey, in your shape, what are you going to do if I topple over?”
“Break your fall?”
“That’s fine, but I don’t want to land on the dog.”
Kateri chuckled and stepped away.
Sean Weston climbed down, took Bertha by the waist and lifted her to the floor. “Mrs. Waldschmidt, with all due respect, next time when you get mad, would you stay on the ground?”
Damn. Kateri was starting to like Weston. To counter that, she asked, “Give me a report on the surveillance at Rainbow’s house.”
He sighed. “It’s okay. I haven’t seen anything.”
Kateri put her hands on her hips.
Weston looked sulky. “I need to go back and check. After I’m done here, I will. I promise … it’s just so boring.”
So much for liking Weston.
The two-way on Kateri’s shoulder vibrated, and she clicked it on to hear Bergen’s toneless voice report, “We lost him.”
The Woman Who Couldn't Scream Page 15
