Blood Ties (35 page)

"Daniel?" Buck's urgent whisper yanked him back
from his thoughts. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, sure. I'm good. How about you? You can walk
that far with those ribs?"

"I'll have to, won't l?"

Buck hadn't said anything about Matthew's death,
which meant that Will hadn't been able to reach him
to tell him about the murder. Daniel would have to tell
him, but there would be plenty of time for that on the
way back to Tawes. What was important was that Bailey
be safe and that they find his son ... find him alive.

It was dark when Abbie's helicopter touched down in
Aunt Birdy's cow pasture. Bailey had hardly spoken on
the flight back from Annapolis. She couldn't shake the
thought that she'd made a terrible mistake. Even hearing Daniel's voice on Abbie's cell and knowing that he
was safe didn't temper her fear that she'd done something that would keep them from recovering Daniel's
little boy.

Daniel hadn't told her much, simply that he had
Buck with him and they were on their way back to the
island. Bailey had wanted to confess that she'd failed
him, that Lucas had double-crossed them and hadn't
delivered the child, but she'd said nothing. That much
caution she'd learned from him. Never trust the phones. She would have to hold off until they were
face to face. The waiting was agony.

"They said to meet them at Emma's," Abbie said.
"Buck was adamant that we stay there, keep the doors
locked, and not go out to your farm or the cabin."

But as they were leaving the aircraft to walk to
Emma's, Forest came across the field from Aunt
Birdy's house. He was carrying a flashlight, and he was
armed with a shotgun.

"Ladies. Don't be alarmed. I'm your escort."

Bailey looked at the gun. "What's wrong?"

"It's Matthew. He's been murdered."

At 10:45 P.M., Buck and Daniel reached Emma's dock.
Abbie and Bailey rushed out to meet them, and Bailey
threw herself into Daniel's arms. "Are you all right?"
she asked. "Did Lucas contact you?"

Buck glanced toward the house and tapped Daniel's
arm.

Abbie heard the screen door slam, glanced back,
and saw her father step out on the back porch.

"Later," Daniel said to Bailey.

He was bare-chested, and Buck was wearing a shirt
she'd seen on Daniel earlier. Buck's posture was stiff,
and he seemed to be walking on eggs. Both of them
had bruises on their faces. A long bloody scrape ran
down Daniel's right arm.

"What happened?" Abbie demanded of Buck. "We
waited at the mall, but no one came with the child."

"I may have ruined everything." Bailey was weeping.
"Lucas called me. He wanted more money, but I refused. I couldn't. I couldn't take the chance that he'd
kill the boy." She clung to Daniel.

"What's wrong with you?" Abbie caught Buck's arm.
"You've been hurt, haven't you?"

He shrugged off her touch. "Nothing much."

"No?" Abbie yanked up his shirt. Even by moonlight
she could see that Buck's chest was a mass of bruises.

"You look like you've been shot," her father said,
quietly coming up behind her.

"Not quite." Buck yanked the shirt down. "Listen,
Abbie, I've got to visit the murder scene. I want you
and your father to remain here."

"I'll come with you," she said.

"You can't."

"Why not? Forest told us that the body was found at
the dig site."

"You aren't coming because I'm not taking civilians
into a crime scene."

"May as well," Emma called. She, Jim, and Phillip
came around the corner of the house. "Half the island's already there. A few more shouldn't matter."

Buck swore. "Couldn't you keep them away until I
got there?"

"Tried." Emma shrugged. "You know folks on
Tawes. Nothing's private, least of all death."

"Where's Will?"

"Still out at the burial ground with Nate and Harry."
Emma lowered her voice to keep Daniel from hearing.
"No one touched Matthew's body, but they're keeping
watch over it."

"I'm on my way now," Buck said. "Anybody notified
the medical examiner's office?"

"Nope." Emma shook her head. "We thought that
was your department, seeing as how you're the law on
Tawes. A pity to leave Matthew like that, but nobody
wanted to take a chance on destroying evidence."

"I appreciate that."

"Give me a chance to change my clothes," Abbie
said. "I'm coming."

Buck glared at her. "Out of the question."

"It's my dig site."

"Not tonight it isn't. And not tomorrow. Not until
we find whoever killed Matthew."

"Bull. You're not being fair."

"What's not fair is risking your life. I think you're
right, Abbie. I think that whoever killed your mother
may have killed Matthew and the Gilbert boy. And until I find that person, you're not going to set foot in
that marsh."

"No? Who says?"

"I do." He glanced at her father. "Sir, I'll have to ask
you to make certain she stays away. We can't risk her
life for a few old bones."

"More than a few," Emma said. "That big dog you
gave Abbie ... he dug into one of the pits. We covered
it right back up, Will and me."

"Covered up what?" Abbie demanded.

"A skull."

"The dog dug up a skull?" she repeated. "An Indian
skull?"

Emma shrugged. "Don't rightly know what kind it
was. I expect it must have been. No white folks ever
buried out there so far as I know. You, Phillip?"

"No, none I hear tell of," Phillip said. "All our people are right here in town, in the churchyard. Oh,
some of the early settlers buried their kin on their land
grants, I suppose. But nobody's been buried anywhere
but the town cemetery in my lifetime."

"All the same, I need to see the skull," Abbie
replied. "I'll be able to tell if it is Native American or
white-at least I think I will."

"Not now you don't." Vernon moved to put an arm
around his daughter's shoulders. "I agree with Chief
Davis. It's not safe for you out there. I've lost your
mother to some madman. I've no intention of losing
you, too."

"I'm going-with you or without you."

Buck scowled at her. "I said no, Abbie. I mean it.
You-"

Her eyes flashed. "You don't know me very well if
you think you can keep me away from that site now. Either of you."

Abbie stared at Matthew's dangling body. She'd
thought she'd prepared herself for the sight. She'd
imagined that since she hadn't particularly cared for
the man, it might be easier to scientifically detach herself from the scene, to look at the corpse without being terrified or disgusted.

She'd been wrong.

No horror flick had ever been as frightening as this
white figure slowly swaying in the salt tinged night
wind. She wasn't physically sick, but spiritually, she felt
stricken to the core.

Her repulsion was quickly replaced by a surge of
compassion for the dead pastor ... for the agony and
fear he must have suffered in the last moments of his
life. And oddly, she felt compassion for the sick creature who had done this and thus severed the last
bonds of his own humanity.

Grandmother Willow's words came back to her. "I feel
a twisted spirit ... powerful ... evil. He hunts the night."

And then, as clearly as if she'd heard the old woman
speaking aloud: "Three. Three more will die."

"Abbie." Buck put an arm around her. "You okay?"

"Yes," she answered. His embrace was warm, but she
was chilled to the bone. She couldn't turn away from
Matthew Catlin's body. Mentally she counted the dead.
Lucas. Did he count as one? Lucas, Matthew ... And
who? Who would make the third? Grandmother Willow was a holy woman, one who had the far sight. If
she saw three more violent deaths, three there would
be. But if Lucas wasn't a part of this ... would two
more die?

Would Buck be one of them? Would she?

She exhaled. "This was worse than I expected."

"Abbie. I'm sorry. It's why I tried to-"

"No," she interrupted softly. "I need to look at the
skull. I needed to be here." Still staring at the gently
swaying corpse, she rested her cheek against his chest.
"I need to see what you see."

He was quiet for a moment. "I guess that makes
sense. If we're going to marry-if you're going to a
cop's wife you may have to face death again. I've
never seen a body in this condition, but it's not as bad
for me as seeing dead children. Leaving the mainland
behind meant no more picking kids up off the highway in pieces."

She looked up at him. She couldn't see his eyes in the
darkness, but she knew they'd reveal what he tried so
hard to hide, that he cared so much for the ones under
his protection.... the ones he might have saved. "He
deserves respect," she said. "They all do. The dead."

He nodded.

"And you give them that."

He motioned toward the tents, where someone had
set gas lanterns on her worktable. "Why don't you go on?" he said. "I've got to stay here, to maintain what's
left of the scene. Until the medical examiner arrives.
He's coming in by' copter from Baltimore. I told them
to land, in the field at Bailey's farm. Harry's waiting
there to lead them in."

"They're not coming by boat?"

"Not at night. The marsh guts can be tricky at night.
Even Jim wanted his boat out of here before dark, and
he knows this swamp as well as anyone."

"Will Tawes appears to be at home here."

"Yeah, Will. Will's a special sort of man. One of the
old-timers. Will's better in the woods or marsh than
even Jim or Emma." He squeezed her shoulders. "Go
on, now."

In an attempt to prove to herself that her imagination wasn't running away with her, that it wasn't as awful as she thought, she allowed herself a final glimpse
of the pastor.

She was certain that Matthew Catlin's grotesque and
frozen image would remain with her forever, lurking
in that shadowy place between dreams and reality.

Abbie shuddered. Grasping her mother's turquoise
ring, she twisted it on her finger. And touching the silver that had lain next to her mother's warm flesh for
so long, she felt a small measure of comfort.

"Can I bring you coffee?" she said.

"Yeah," Buck said. "That would be nice. Black."

"Good choice," she said lightly, walking away. "I
didn't think to bring sugar or cream."

She fetched him the insulated mug of coffee, drank
a cup herself, and then pulled on gloves to check out
Emma's reported Indian skull. Buck's dog lay fastened by a length of rope to a tent pole, just out of
reach of the pit. "You," she admonished, "are a troublemaker, and you can forget any idea you have of
staying with me."

The black, shaggy dog tilted his head and thumped
his tail.

"No, no tricks, no endearing tail-wagging. You stay
on this island. I go to Greece. Is that clear?"

Archie didn't answer, but she had the feeling that he
didn't need to. Somehow, she suspected, she'd never
have a chance of getting free of him.

George came to the edge of the pit carrying a lantern
in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. "Not diggin' bones in the middle of the night, are you?"

"Emma said the dog dug up a human skull. If it's Native American, it can't be as old as the other material I've
been finding. Bone decays quickly in this type of soil."

"Dead's dead," George said. He sipped his coffee.
"Strong stuff. You wouldn't have any sugar, would you?"

"Sorry, I forgot."

"I can make do." He lifted the lantern higher. "It
don't seem right, disturbing the dead."

Abbie knelt in the mud and began to brush aside
the disturbed dirt that had obviously been pressed
back into place. "A lot of people agree with you, Mr.
Williams. But I need-" A jolt of excitement shot
through her as her fingers brushed something solid.
Carefully she lifted the egg-shaped object.

"Ah, hell." She stared at the skull in the wavering
lantern light.

George's eyes widened.

"Call Buck," she said. "Call him, now."

The badly preserved skull was small and fragile, a
child's skull. Not old in the context of archaeology,
and definitely not Indian.

George stood dumbly, still gazing at the skull.

"Buck!" she yelled. "I need you! Now!"

Three days after Lucas died, Daniel got the call he'd
been expecting from a man who'd once been his se nior officer at the C.I.A. He and Bailey had been crabbing with hand lines off her dock. They'd netted
nearly a dozen fat jimmies, and Puzzle was running tip
and down barking at the bushel basket that held their
catch. "I've got to go to Kent Island to meet someone,"
he said to Bailey. "The agency has questions about
what happened in St. Michaels."

"Can I come?"

He smiled at her. "You know better than that. But
it's all right. You don't need to worry. I'll be fine."

"How do I know I'll ever see you again?"

"You have to understand. It cost a fortune to train
me, and while I was on staff, I was part of a family.
They may not like what I'm doing now, and they may
want to lure me back. But they won't use torture and
they won't make me disappear." He caught her chin in
his hand and kissed her tenderly. "They'll probably offer me a big bonus and first-class plane tickets to
Paris."