Spitting Image (20 page)

WHEN WE ARRIVED back at the cabin, I was stumbling with fatigue. In addition to the letdown after the rush of adrenaline of the fight, healing takes a lot of energy out of me. I had pushed myself hard, but I really didn’t want anybody to die who didn’t have to. Plenty can be forgiven if nobody dies.

There was an ambulance in the drive, a company I didn’t recognize. Pete and Nique had set up a triage area on the front porch. While I’d stabilized most of the injured, they still needed real medical attention.

Pete looked up from his patient at the sound of our footsteps on the gravel drive.

“Hey, it’s Sean!” he shouted. “And he brought the hot chicks.”

Sarah shook her head wearily and flashed him a halfhearted middle finger. Amelia, her hands bound, just managed a glare.

I climbed the stairs. Nique gave me a hug, drew back and looked carefully at the gash on my forehead.

“Are you OK?” she asked, real concern in her voice.

“It’s just my head,” I answered. “How are things here?”

“Fine,” she said. “One case of VD,” EMS slang for Very Dead. “Everybody else should make it. We put a call out to the local Vollies. There should be a few ambulances soon.”

“What’s this truck?” I asked.

“Guy owed me a favor,” said Bob, stepping out onto the porch. “I know the guy who owns the local ambulance company. Borrowed a truck and a few uniforms for your buddies.”

“Thanks.”

“Figured you’d want your own people on the first truck in.”

“That does make me feel better,” I replied.

“They do good work, looks like most of these guys are gonna live, even if the place does look like the OK Corral.”

“We can’t take all the credit,” said Nique. “If Sean hadn’t been here, some of them would probably be much more critical.”

“I still want to know why you didn’t fix the Headless Horseman in there,” said Pete.

“Even I have my limits,” I replied.

“If he could fix that kind of brain damage, do you think he’d have left you alone after all this time?” Nique wondered.

“Ouch.”

“I didn’t have much choice on that one,” said Bob.

“Thanks for that,” I said. “How far away were you?”

He shrugged. “Two seventy-five, maybe three hundred yards.”

“Pretty good shooting for a one-eyed fat man,” said John.

Bob gave him a blank look. John tried to maintain his stoic Noble Savage expression, but a grin finally broke through.

“Where’s Daniels?” I asked.

“Right here,” said the man, beckoning me into the house.

I walked in, ushering Amelia before me. Sarah followed, not waiting to be invited, because she was at the point where she was through waiting for permission. I recognized the feeling displayed in every line of her posture.

Daniels looked at the women, then at me, but said nothing. He flexed his arm, turned his hand over, moved his fingers. “You have an amazing gift.”

“I like it,” I said.

I could feel my own patience evaporating. I was tired, drained, shaking with leftover adrenaline, my head throbbed from being hit, and I still had a cabin full of potential enemies and tricky allies I had to deal with. I felt the roiling emotional broth in my gut turning to anger. I recognized the state where I lost control, spoke my mind, threatened co-workers, took swings at people. It seldom ended well. This was the buildup to the cathartic, visceral burst of violence of word and deed that felt so damn good for a moment but took so long to pay back. This is where I got fired or demoted or beat up or jailed or had to leave town.

I took a deep, cleansing breath, resolved to hold out as long as I could. I figured I had five minutes or one really classist remark from either Daniels or Amelia before I exploded.

“So now what?” I asked.

“Now I erase the memories of her men,” he said. “And my men. Since you healed them, they know your secret, which means they need to be seen to as well. I hadn’t planned on that.”

Sorry saving your men’s lives made more work for you,
I didn’t say out loud.

“My thanks for your caring for them,“ he said quickly. Maybe my eyes had said something out loud.

“The problem, however, is that I cannot create false memories to cover and explain all this. The gunshot wounds, the damage to this cabin. These are things the police will want to investigate. Pity you had to start shooting, my dear,” he addressed Amelia. “Now the result will be the same, but so much more effort.”

She glared at him like a cat restrained for a veterinary exam. Her eyes promised violent retribution at the earliest opportunity.

“Make it look like a meth lab,” said John. “Trash the kitchen, spill some chemicals. These guys came up here to fish, some local meth heads were cooking drugs in the cabin during the off season, the Skin Walkers surprised them and the jumpy druggies shot them and bolted.”

“Would that work?”

“There’s four part time cops in this town. The FBI isn’t going to fly in a crime lab. By the time the State Police get here, the local cops will have waltzed through the evidence and the State guys will figure anything missing was stolen or lost or obscured by the locals.”

“Excellent thinking,” said Daniels.

“You palefaces usually need an Indian to help you cover your trail.”

“He’s just had a lot of practice hiding stuff from his ex wife,” said Bob.

It really was like watching
The Last of the Mohicans
remade as a buddy cop film.

I walked into the kitchen, leaving Daniels to work his magic. Sarah followed as I rummaged in the cupboards for glassware. I took down a bowl, put some sugar and water in it and put in on a burner.

“Do you have any nail polish remover?” I asked Sarah.

“Is that how you make meth?” she asked.

“Despite my wide and varied knowledge base, I have no idea how to make meth,” I replied. “But if a cop sees broken glass on a stove with burnt residue on it and smells chemicals, he’s going to think ‘meth lab’.”

Bob and John came in and helped set the scene. We cleaned up anything that might incriminate us specifically, but left it a mess, left shell casings and general debris.

I looked out into the other room and saw Daniels working his magic. He put his hands on the temples of one of the men and spoke low and soothingly. I saw the man’s eyes widen in fear, then go blank, vacant. Daniels’ brow furrowed with concentration for a moment. The man’s eyes snapped back into focus, confused.

“Shhh, shh,” said Daniels. “Everything will be alright. You’ve been injured. The ambulance is on the way. Just try to remain calm.” He continued to talk to the man, asking leading questions, laying down layer after layer of suggestion, gradually bringing the man’s thoughts to where he wanted them.

After a while Daniels came back into the kitchen.

“Delightfully repulsive,” he said. “The place reeks of a crime scene.”

I thought about mentioning that it didn’t look much like a bank or a board room, but I didn’t think he’d appreciate my wit.

“I will take my men and Miss Bennett and get out of here. It would be best if there is no connection to me. Call me when you get back to Boston.”

“I will,” I said. “Thanks for your help. I don’t see how else this could be handled without a lot more people dying.”

“As far as I can tell, there is no other way. No thanks are necessary. I’m sure I can use your help from time to time.” He nodded and walked out, leaving us lesser mortals to deal with the blood and carnage.

I really wasn’t happy about owing him. I had more or less limited my offer to healing, and I was used to healing people I didn’t really care for, but I did prefer ordinary decent junkies and gang member to entitled rich men who played chess with people’s lives.

“This looks pretty good,” said Bob. “You should get out of here.”

“Why now?” asked Sarah.

“If you two wind up in a police report, these guys will have a line on you again. They’ll probably think something strange is up. Maybe they’ll chalk up the memory loss to trauma and morphine, but let’s not give them any threads to pull at.”

“What about you?”

“I know most of the local officials. I’ll say I was out hunting and heard automatic gunfire and came to investigate, and called the ambulance. These people have nothing on me.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I owe you. Again.”

“You don’t owe me a thing,” he said. “Just keep her safe.”

“I’ll take an IOU,” said John.

“Thanks for everything,” I said, shaking his hand. “You ever need me, please don’t hesitate to call.”

Sarah said goodbye to John, gave Bob a long hug and we walked out. I stopped to check with Pete and Nique.

“We got this,” said Pete. “Get out of here before anybody can tie you to the scene.”

“Thanks,” I said. “You guys are too good to me.”

“Take care of yourself,” said Nique. “We’ll talk when we all get back.”

We got in the car and drove off. After about a mile, we passed a police cruiser headed toward the cabin. A mile further on we passed an ambulance headed the same way.

“How long ago did Bob call?” Sarah asked.

“A while,” I replied. “Think about that the next time somebody tells you to move to the country for your health.”

“So what happens now?” she asked.

“Well, Amelia’s group now has no memory of us, but we have to get Caruthers, or Butler or whoever he is, or it won’t matter.”

“You have a plan for that?”

“We have to get him to Daniels.”

“He’s still a douchebag,” she said.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “But he’s a very useful douchebag.”

“How are you going to get Butler?”

“We still have Brad. Now we have Amelia. They should be able to tell us how to draw him out, and how many of his people know about us.”

“You think they’ll do it?”

“I think they can see this is the only way out. They’ll figure as long as they know my secret they’re a threat. And they’re the kind of people who wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone who they consider a threat. Although they rather frame or blackmail that person, which I can’t do as easily. They’ll figure I’m the same as they are and do the math. This should work.”

“What if it doesn’t?” she asked.

I didn’t want to think about that. It wasn’t a hard choice. It wasn’t complicated. It just sucked.

“Pretty much leaves run or fight.”

“Those are options,” she said. “Not an answer.”

She had a point. And there really weren’t two options. Not even two sucky options. There was just a cold, heavy, leaden certainty of what I’d have to do when that time came.

“Probably going to be fight,” I said. “I’d rather pick run. I’m good at run. But I can’t keep everyone safe if I run. They’d either try to get my location from you and Pete and Nique, or just threaten you or frame you for something unless I came back. So, since I can’t trust them to back off, these people need to get a case of amnesia or a case of dead.”

“I’m still not used to that kind of thinking,” she said. “I mean, I understand it, I guess, but I don’t think I could do it. Even that bitch Amelia. I don’t think I could kill her.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” I said. “Some things that need doing leave a stain on your soul. A darkness inside of you. I try to keep it on a leash. When I need it, it’s there, but I don’t like to let it out. Like anything, the more often you resort to it, the easier it gets.”

“But then I wind up needing you to do my dirty work. Getting more stains on my account. That doesn’t reflect on me?”

“Sweetheart, I’ve been damaged goods for a long time,” I said with a smile. “If anything, you make me want to be a better person. You’re like an extra chain on my darkness, helping me keep it in check.”

She leaned over in her seat, resting her head on my shoulder as I drove. We didn’t say anything for a long time. It didn’t seem like we needed to.

A FEW NIGHTS LATER I crouched in the bushes near the train station in Philips Mills, trying to ignore the mosquitoes. Somewhere off to my left, Bob was holed up with what I hoped was a good field of view. I felt better about this one than the ambush at the cabin. Fewer bad guys, in theory at least, my support was closer, and best of all, I wasn’t bait.

I watched a rental car parked in the shadow of the building. In the front seat was my old friend Brad, and a reasonable facsimile of myself. That was always weird to watch.

A dark Mercedes pulled up beside them and they got out, while Butler and a flunky got out of the other car. Dammit, I was sure Amelia was shorting me at least two inches. Butler had to notice that. And I’m sure I walked with more confidence than that.

OK, here we go,
I thought. I watched, waited as the two groups walked together. For a second, the dark angel on my left shoulder whispered that this could all end, right now. I had a pistol with a full magazine. I had the drop on them, they were in the open, night blind, I was in the shadows. John and Bob might not be enthusiastic about it, but they wouldn’t stop me, or hold it against me all that much.

No, if I wanted to face Sarah again, and look in her eyes and not feel like a fraud when I told her how it happened, that just wasn’t an option.

Better stick with Plan A.

I sent a text on my phone.
Now.

A light switched on, flooding the group in its harsh white glare. As they shielded their eyes and reached into their coats, turning toward the light, John and I rose from our hiding places behind and to their flanks.

“Hands up! Let’s not try anything stupid.”

Butler and his man looked toward the sound of my voice, but they were half blinded, starkly illuminated while I was in shadow.

“You have several weapons aimed at you, and you’re lit up like a Christmas tree. If you want to live, put your hands up.”

I knew Brad and Amelia were unarmed, because we’d sent them in unarmed. I figured Butler was smart enough to do the math. The spear carrier I wasn’t sure about.

All four figures raised their hands.

“Good,” I said. “Now, hands behind your heads, lace your fingers and kneel down, facing away from me.”

They did. I sent another text, then walked up on them. John moved in from the other side. Bob was somewhere well hidden, keeping them covered with his rifle. John and I made a wide approach, leaving Bob and his artillery a nice, clear line of fire.

John and I moved in and zip-tied their hands. As we finished, a black Cadillac Escalade pulled up. I yanked Butler to his feet and opened the door of the SUV.

From the rear seat, Daniels smiled at the crowd. “Good evening. I think we have some business to discuss.”

We placed the prisoners into the car.

“Nicely done, gentlemen,” said Daniels. “Now, after I adjust the memories of these people, that should be everyone. I will call you tomorrow, to let you know how I have left things.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Not at all,” he said. “I’ll be in touch.”

That’s what I was worried about.