Dead Demon Walking (18 page)

I felt the blood drain from my face
and sweat broke out in beads on my scalp. My armpits were damp, my
skin felt cold and clammy beneath my clothes.

I brushed wisps of hair off my cheeks
and brow. “What did he look like?”

“
Very tall. Early to
mid-twenties? He had long black hair. I mean true black, not dark
brown. And his eyes were so dark, I thought they were black too,
except eyes don’t come in black, do they?” She paused, went on.
“His skin tone was dark, bronzed. He had high, broad cheekbones. I
think he came from one of the South American countries. When I saw
his face I thought of the highland Maya of Guatemala.” She swiveled
to face me. “David and I were on mission there two years
go.”

I got excited. This was the best
description so far.

“
He was . . . beautiful,”
Gwen added.

If he was Gelpha, he had to be
beautiful. “Okay, so you saw him at your desk. What happened
then?”

“
I blacked out, or thought
I did.”

“
You didn’t see him attack
you?”

“
No, nothing. One moment I
was looking at him, the next I opened my eyes and,” her gaze sank
to her husband’s body, “found David.”

Who must have come
downstairs after her, and found her like
that
.

She didn’t know how the man killed
her. The horrendous wound on her back - would David tell her when
he rose? How did shades see each other, as they were now, or when
still alive?

“
Is anything
missing?”

She swung her head, looking at the
den. “I can’t tell if anything is gone. I wouldn’t know where to
start.”

Paperwork. Papers. The man in Bella
Vinca looked at papers. Searching for information. He didn’t ask
the victims if they had what he needed; when he didn’t find it, he
killed them.

Or did he find it?

“
Who’s that?” Gwen asked,
tipping her chin at Gunn.

“
FBI Agent
Gunn.”

“
Can he see me?”

“
No.”

“
Why is he
here?”

I cocked my head at Gunn. “To watch
me.”

As I stood on the bottom step,
regarding Gwen from across the small room, tiny shivers made their
way up my spine and along my shoulders.

***

As I walked through the
kitchen with Gunn trailing me, I spun around, hauled back and
slapped his face. I didn’t hold back, either. A nice, sold
thwack.

He clapped one hand to his cheek as
the other came up to where his jacket hung open, but he made a fist
before he reached his weapon. His face was a picture, as if it
didn’t know what expression to wear.

“
I told you not to touch
me. You gave me your word.”

He lowered his hands. My hand print
stood out, white on his reddened cheek. “I apologize,” he said
through his teeth. “I thought you passed out.”

“
Think yourself lucky I
didn’t use my fist.” I turned from him and walked out the
backdoor.

Twilight had descended to night. Two
big searchlights on tripods were set up, blazing hard white light
on the outbuildings and surrounding trees and brush so men and
women could continue their search. Royal waited with Vanderkamp,
his hair a halo in the dimmer light beneath the apple
trees.

I noticed Gunn tried to keep his face
turned from the light.

A host converged on us as Gunn and I
came out the house. They thought I was a profiler. I had to tell
them something. How did a profiler decide on a profile? I’d give
them something; I just hoped they would not ask on what I based my
conclusions.

Vanderkamp saved me. “Give us an hour
to debrief Miss Banks and we’ll get back to you.”

What a relief. I ducked my head and
followed the agents through the yard to our rides. Gunn indicated
Royal and I should get in back of Wesson’s cruiser. I clambered in
first, Royal after. Vanderkamp took the seat next to Wesson. Gunn
climbed in Gold’s pickup. We slowly wove through the other vehicles
and up the hill.

Away from the farmhouse, we ran into
night black as pitch. The air conditioner kicked in and the car’s
interior cooled to bearable. The headlights barely made a
difference, picking out rough verge and fences alongside the dirt
road. Wesson turned on the wipers.

I peered at the darkness. “Is it
raining?”

“
Farmers water in the
evening. The wind is blowing it across the road,” Royal
said.

A jackrabbit raced ahead of the car
before veering off beneath the fence and into the field, its rear
end frantically hydraulicing. I felt imprisoned in a small, stuffy
cocoon unenhanced by Wesson’s enthusiastic application of
cologne.

“
We need to talk ASAP and
we can’t do that in an airport lounge or on the plane. I suggest we
find a motel,” Vanderkamp said.

“
Sounds good.” I wanted to
be alone with Royal in the most desperate way and I felt tired,
sapped, a familiar angst in my chest. Royal nodded
agreement.

A little of the restriction in my
chest dissolved. “I have to ask someone to see to Mac.”

I would not ask Janie to drive down
the canyon and take Mac to her place unless I had to. I could
probably talk a neighbor into letting him in the backyard later
this evening and giving him his kibble. Wanda knew where I hid the
spare backdoor key.

But Jack and Mel would give me hell
when I got home. If only. . . .

I had an idea. I tugged my cell out my
hip pocket and punched in a number. Vanderkamp watched me with
narrowed eyes. The phone rang four times, then the answering
machine picked up.

“
Hi, this is Tiff Banks.
Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

I held the phone a little way from my
mouth. “I must be losing it. I meant to call Wanda, ask her to take
care of Mac till we get home at. . . .” I gave Vanderkamp a
quizzical look.

“
Tomorrow afternoon at the
latest,” he said.

“
Oh, okay.” I jiggled the
phone. “And I dialed my number.” I snapped the cell
shut.

So I sounded like an idiot; now my
roommates knew when I’d be back. They would not fret the entire
night and tomorrow, and take it out on me when I got home. Well,
they’d probably still take it out on me, but at least I had not
left them in the dark.

Then I phoned Wanda. She agreed to
take care of Mac’s needs.

We crested a hill and the glow of
North Platte spread before us.

“
Mortensen,” Vanderkamp
said, “you were a detective for Clarion Police Department, popular
and respected. Your superiors say you could easily have risen in
the ranks, yet you left the Force to work with Miss
Banks.”

Royal’s jaw set. “What does that have
to do with these investigations?”

“
Nothing. I’m curious. Is
it the nature of the work? Are you interested in the
supernatural?”

The agent didn’t see the
secret in Royal’s smile – if people knew what he was, they would
call
him
supernatural.

Royal lifted the back of my hand to
his mouth and caressed it with his lips. “I know or care little
about the supernatural. You could say I based my decision on with
whom I work, not the work itself.”

Talk about laying it on
thick.

Vanderkamp went slightly
pink and
harrumphed
deep in his throat.

Worn out, I turned my head,
closed my eyes and hid my face in Royal’s shoulder, but horribly
slain bodies paraded through my mind, clamoring for attention, for
me to
help them
.
I’d seen too many in the past week. If only they were dream people,
not real folk whose lives were snuffed out, never to fulfill the
promise life gave them. If. . . .

Royal’s strong arms
gathered me in. My cheek on his chest, his heart beat as loud and
steady as the
whump-whump
of the wipers. I snuggled in, grateful he knew how
I felt. I can keep a clinical attitude for just so long when we’re
on a murder investigation, then the walls come tumbling down, and I
had never seen anything this ghastly.

***

Surprised and pleased the Bureau
sprang for a halfway decent motel, I stood in the spacious lobby of
the Hampton Inn while Agent Gunn checked us in at the desk. An
elderly man peered at me through his bifocals from where he sat on
a long couch.

Royal tipped his chin, signaling me to
join him. We followed Gunn inside the elevator as he pressed the
button for the third floor. I focused on the blank walls, barely
hearing the elevator music.

We stepped out the elevator. The door
tried to slide shut behind us, but Gunn held it open with his hand.
“Half an hour.” He let the door close. The light indicated it
stopped on the fourth floor where Gunn and Vanderkamp had a
room.

We went along a short corridor, me
slogging behind Royal. I felt worn down, not up to a meeting with
the agents. And I still had to tell Royal about Rio
Borrego.

Royal opened the door with the
keycard. I leaned on the doorframe and looked at a king-size bed
with a maroon quilted cover, dark-oak bedside cabinets, a matching
dresser with a wide-screen television on top, a brown faux-leather
recliner, a small oak desk and chair. Lamps with cerise ginger jar
bases and white shades sat on the cabinets either side the bed. The
plum-colored carpet looked new.

Then images crashed together in my
mind. Janine. The Fenshams. Gwen Welch.

Royal closed the door. “Come
here.”

“
I’m fine.”

“
No, you are
not.”

His arms brought me in. I luxuriated
in his warmth as it pushed away the chill in my body. His hands
stroked down my spine. I rubbed my face on his chest, tried to
burrow into him, inhaled his scent, and sighed.

I marveled at how well Royal knew me,
when the face I put on for others hid the stress I felt inside. I’m
not as stoical as I pretend. Seeing and talking to dead people can
be a disturbing, draining experience.

“
There,” he soothed
gruffly. “You can relax now, sweetheart.”

I lifted my head and caught sight of
the clock next the bed. “Yeah, for twenty-two minutes.”

He snuffed through his nose, a kind a
nasal chuckle. “You have the damndest knack for ruining the
mood.”

I pulled my head back to give him a
wry smile. “I know. I’m sorry.”

He rested his chin on my hair. “I
noticed Agent Gunn’s face had a rosy glow when you left the
farmhouse.”

I sighed. “I warned him not to touch
me. He said he wouldn’t. When I saw what was in there, I guess I
got lightheaded. He grabbed my shoulder.”

“
Oh, Tiff. . .
.”

“
Don’t you ‘oh Tiff’ me! He
went back on his word. I should have broke his nose.”

The agents would be back soon and I
had to tell him about Rio. I eased from his arms, took his hand and
led him to the bathroom. He peaked his eyebrows and let me tow him
along. Going to the sink, I turned on both sink faucets, then the
shower. It works in movies.

“
Can you check to see if
they had the room bugged?” I whispered, knowing his demon hearing
would pick it up above the noise made by the water.

He didn’t tease me about my phobia or
point out the unlikelihood the Bureau arranged to have our room
wired. He went through, listening and looking, and gave me an
all-clear nod.

When he heard when I had to say he
would agree that now, more than any time during our association
with the agents, keeping this from them was vital.

I turned the water off and went back
to the bedroom where I fell backward on the bed. The mattress
jiggled a little; it felt good.

I patted the coverlet. Royal sat on
the edge of the mattress, leaning on one hand.

“
I saw Rio Borrego parked
down the street from Janine’s house.”

His spine went rigid and I knew what
went through his head. I gave him time to think, because his
conclusions, like mine, were daunting.

At last he drew in air through his
teeth, hissed it out in a short burst. “Then the Dark Cousins are
involved.”

“
Yeah, what I thought.” I
rolled on my side, propped my elbow on the pillow and let my chin
settle in my palm. “Why would Dark Cousins be interested in a
Gelpha murderer?”

Swinging his legs up, he lay facing
me. With his head down, he said, “Perhaps we’re wrong.”

“
Wrong?” I didn’t get it.
Then he lifted his head and steadily looked me in the eye, saying
nothing.

Shit.

“
What did he look like?” he
asked, eyes not leaving mine.

“
How I imagine Gelpha would
look if I didn’t see you as you really are.” A Gelpha who did not
sparkle because I saw him through the eyes of the victims, not
mine.