Dark to Mortal Eyes (24 page)

That sound again, very close.
Tunka-tunk-tunk … hsss!

She chewed through the bread, set the gel capsule on her tongue.

Tunka-tunk-tunkkk! Tunka-tunk-tunkkk … hssssssss!

The movement beside her arrested her attention. First, noting how Turney’s vehicle swayed on its struts, she thought passing cars were causing the disturbance. Then, decimating that theory, the trunk’s side panel began bulging as though giant knuckles were rapping against the metal. Something was in there, and it seemed to want out. Seemed to want her.

“Whaddya doin’? I told you I’d be right back.”

Josee looked straight into Turney’s chocolate-kiss eyes. She said nothing.

“Josee. What is it? What’d you see?”

She shoved her hands into the rose-embroidered pockets of her jeans. They were standing inside the station’s entryway. She felt so awkward here. This was the last place she would ever find Scooter; she was sure of that.

“Don’t you hold out on me.” Turney’s voice was raised. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s eatin’ at ya.”

She pressed her eyes shut and leaned into the cold wall. Into the ropes. Sparring partners? No, she had to keep up her guard and ride out Turney’s flurry of questions. Here it came—the suspicion and judgments he had harbored all along. The prizefighter was back in the ring. Prancing. Swinging.

“Josee!”

That’s right, big boy, throw a punch
.

“Don’t do this, please. Don’t box yourself in.”

Box? Yeah, you know what’s going on here
.

“Josee, are you listenin’ to me? Best to talk these things out.”

Bring it on. This girl can take it
.

“I need to know. Did it do somethin’? Did it try to hurt you?” He
touched her arm, and she opened her eyes. He softened his tone. “Sorry I’m so riled, but I should’ve warned you. Somethin’ in Scooter’s pack, I could just feel it. Could hear it hissing. By the time I got it into the trunk, my old scars were swollen like ticks and oozing again. Hurried back in there to clean it up best I could, but it wasn’t much use.” The sergeant removed his hand to reveal the pus and blood that had matted beneath the chevron on his sleeve.

Josee’s fear robbed the air from her lungs. A convulsion shook her body.

God! I need you here. Where are you? Where’s Kara? Where’s Scoot? Did I come down here for nothing? Do something to let me know you’re here. I want to believe! Please, help me believe
.

She wanted to look back at Turney, but he would see right through her. His soft eyes might cause another meltdown. She wouldn’t let that happen; tears would do no good. She swung her gaze and noticed a clump of people near the main entry. Two police officers stepped away so that she found herself facing the person they had brought in.

There was something familiar …

Marsh could see Kara shivering. Her usually gleaming hair was plastered to her face and neck, and her torso was twisted toward him. Beneath the torn fabric of her blouse, a wound went to the bone, colored blue-purple by the frigid stream. Had a branch punctured her chest? Or a piece of metal? In the cavity, her pulse throbbed.

“Marsh,” she said, “can you … just hold me?”

“We need to get you some help. We don’t have—”

“Please. I just want … to have you near. You understand?”

“Later, honey. Right now, I need to—”

“Wait. Where’re you going?”

“I’m right here.”

She must be hallucinating; he wasn’t going anywhere. A stew of emotion rose in his throat. He tried to fight his panic. So this—he tried to prepare himself—was how it would end, with a tragic finale in the shadows of this gully. Sure, they’d had occasional problems but nothing they couldn’t work out. Even an amicable divorce, if such a thing existed, would be a better ending than this.

Or was this the way she wanted it? Had she driven off the road intentionally?

Refusing to accept that scenario, he urged her to stay with him, to keep talking. “Tell me,” he said, “where it hurts most. We’ll get an ambulance here ASAP. We’ll fill them in over the radio, get you all the help you need.”

“I told you … before. Told you already.” Kara’s voice was feeble. Fading.

“Told me what?”

She’d told him nothing, not a lousy thing. Great, she really was hallucinating. Not surprising, considering she’d been out here through the night. If only she could provide some solid info—to empower him, to help him care
for her. Isn’t that how it worked? How many times had he tried to get through to her?

“Stay with me, Kara. Don’t give up now.”

“It’s … no use. You’re not hearing me.”

“I hear you fine.”

“No, darling. You’re not … listening.” Her light lashes closed, squeezed out droplets that ran from her cheekbones into her ears. “Marsh, just hold me. I don’t need … your answers or solutions or … any advice. I need you to be here … with me.”

Stretched over the rock, the butterfly stopped struggling.

Gotta hurry. No time to lose!

“Don’t let go, Kara. Hey, I found you. There’s a reason for that, right? Don’t give up. I’m going to get help.” Water splashed around his legs as he turned to head back. Knowing that her chances for survival were in his hands galvanized him.

“Hold it right there, mister.” Officer Lansky’s command broke through the canopied stillness. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“She needs help. Looks serious.”

“Who?”

“I found her, found Kara.”

“Your wife?”

“Who else?” Marsh displayed the chiffon scarf.

Lansky stretched to take the evidence. “Where? I don’t see her.”

“Back here.” Annoyance filled Marsh’s voice as he maneuvered the uneven streambed. “We have to hurry.” With numb feet, he stumbled forward, threw his arms out for balance.

“Stop right there! Back off a step.” A drawn pepper-spray canister prompted obedience. “What’re you blabbering about?”

“Kara. She’s right here.”

“Is that so?”

Lansky waved him to the side and sloshed ahead, boots stirring silt and pebbles. Marsh followed the officer’s eyes to the rock where Kara had been. She was gone! In her place, on the flat stone, lay a frosted glass chess piece, the
queen that was missing from his study. Sparkling and wet, the figurine bore a deep crack in her side.

“Am I mistaken, Mr. Addison, or is that a piece from your own chess set? Did you bring it along in the patrol car? For your sake, I hope this isn’t some psychotic gesture, some sick version of a confession.”

Marsh broke his astonished stare from the stone and lurched barefoot toward his accuser. “You
pathetic
wannabe! Tell me where my wife is!”

Their eyes locked. Lansky’s fists tightened.

A sudden movement forced both men to duck. In the trees overhead, a wind gust scattered leaves, and a black-winged rook swooped down like the Grim Reaper’s sickle, seizing the sparkling queen in its beak. As swiftly as it had appeared, it cut upward into the forest’s tangled fabric and vanished into shadow.

The rook’s cries, to Marsh’s disbelieving ears, formed syllables as they faded away.
Kaw—kaa—ka—kar—kara—Kara!

Four towns left to visit. Springfield was next.

In the Aerostar van, Stahlherz shifted his cramped muscles and bones. He felt drained by the human interaction at each stop and the miles between. He preferred the buffered contact of the Internet, yet the Professor had stipulated that he meet his recruits face to face.
No better way to motivate them, my son
.

At the wheel, Darius was alert. His third white mocha was in hand, his eyes wide and jumpy. By permission, he was tuned to the U of O’s independent radio station.

Stahlherz consoled himself with the obvious. Although Crash-Chess-Dummy had deserted today’s match, he had joined Steele Knight in a much larger game, one put in motion by Marsh’s own birth in 1959. Fifty-nine … a superlative wine?

Marshall, I’ll pour you out like the inferior vintage you are
.

As if to hasten the day’s inexorable march toward victory, a shape crossed the window and hovered along the van’s passenger side.

Tappity, tap, tap …

“You’ve been absent since last night,” Stahlherz said. “Thought you might never return.” He reached to lower the window, but flapping wings curtailed this action. Beak first, a rook materialized through the glass, a primal force conquering the laws of physics and nature. The window remained closed.

“Steele-man,” exclaimed Darius, “you see that? Time to lower my java dosage.”

“Eyes on the road,” Stahlherz said.

The rook’s ebony beak was clutching a small, glittering object.

“What do you have there?” said Stahlherz. “A gift for me?” Black wings brushed the air, caressing his sunken cheeks before receding in descent. The bird surrendered its captive to his beckoning hand.

Kaw-kaw-reech!

Stahlherz smiled. “Job well done. Look at this magnificent queen.” He studied the chess piece and, with his sleeve, wiped away the moisture from the creek.

Surely Marsh had been stunned to find her in the ravine. Placed by Beau, as part of their countermeasures, the piece had been waiting. The rook had also waited to confirm Marsh’s encounter before swiping the queen back. Pleased, Stahlherz turned the figurine with a jeweler’s attention to detail. Using the dagger from his pocket, he picked at the crack in her side. “Is this your doing, Marsh?” He clicked his tongue, then dug the dagger deeper so that chips of glass fell like frozen tears to the van floor.

Kaw-kaw-kaa …

“Yes, my friend. This queen represents Mrs. Kara Addison.” Stahlherz corralled the rook in his hands. “Now you must wait for your next task.”

The blackbird clamped its beak onto a handy finger, and Stahlherz yelped. Fluttering in a smoky haze, the creature flew into a tantrum of feathers, sparking eyes, and curved claws.

“You little devil!”

Scrrreech!

“I’m the one choosing the moves,” Stahlherz said. Fumbling for the automatic window switch, he snatched at the bird and scooped it from the van. He choked down the bilious substance in his throat and dropped the glass queen into his jacket pocket.

Four more canisters to go.

He speed-dialed his cell phone. The display read: Crash-Chess-Dummy.

Kara must be dead.

Based on the accident scene, based on her unaccountable appearances and disappearances in his study and the ravine, it made the most sense.

In the patrol car’s caged backseat, Marsh was miserable. His feet and pants were wet and muddy; his head was spinning; his chest was pounding like a drum. In the whirl of questions, he latched on to the one thing he trusted most: his intellect. With cold logic—or was it shock now moving through his thoughts?—he faced the finality of the moment.

Earlier, while awaiting the crime team back at the manor, Lansky and Graham had allowed him to make inquiring phone calls, and not one of Kara’s friends or acquaintances had seemed to know where she was. They’d all promised to call with any news, but according to the team now monitoring the message machines at his estate, there’d still been no word.