Tainted Trail (21 page)

Sam shrugged. “Harold Grantz, that's the professor, thinks there might be a large iron deposit, like a meteorite hit there at some point. He gave me directions: Forest Road 63, three miles south of the lake. Park and hike.”

“That last bit gets somewhat vague,” Max said. “So they spent that day out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Well, Jubilee Lake is a popular spot,” Sam said. “It's well-stocked with rainbow trout, has a boat ramp, campground, picnic tables, and a footpath. They could have spent part of the day there and met up with someone.”

Max winced. “But the population isn't constant, so we probably won't find witnesses to any meeting.”

“At least it was only last week,” Ukiah said. “There might be someone still at the campground that saw them.”

“We better hit it tomorrow, then,” Max said.

“What about where Alicia was camped?” Sam asked.

“I talked to the FBI about that.” Max earned a surprised
look from Ukiah. “Since this is now a kidnapping, and we might not be here for the full course of the investigation, I thought that we should work with them as much as possible.”

Max gave Ukiah an “I'm handling it” look in return as he spoke. Better Max than him. Ukiah supposed it was for the best—if they walked too meekly, the FBI might think they were up to something. As his Mom Lara often said of his baby sister, those who are quiet are often into the worst trouble.

“So, did they say
anything
?” Sam clearly thought this was a waste of time.

Max leaned back from his quail. “Not much, just that the search efforts, and especially the shooting, spooked away everyone at the girls' campground. The FBI has a list of who was there, and is trying to find them for questioning now.” He glanced to Ukiah. “How did you do, kid?”

“The Underground Tour seems to be a bust,” Ukiah said. “The tour guide remembers her, but only vaguely. The Trading Shop is closed.”

“Oh, yes; it's Saturday,” Sam said. “They're at flea markets on Saturdays.”

That mystery solved. “But the woman at the bead shop remembered her, and that took me out to the cultural institute with Cassidy Kicking Deer.” Ukiah was unsure how much he should say in front of Sam. It was going to be tricky to dance all around the truth. “They have a photograph of the lost Kicking Deer boy. Alicia apparently saw how much it looked like me. She took it down and found the name in the back.”

“Which is?” Max asked.

“Magic Boy. It also listed date of death, but Cassidy says that there isn't a death record on file.”

“Obits. Wasn't there a comment on Ukiah obits?” Max took out the daily planner and flipped through. “Here.
Ukiah history: obits.
”

“This is the kid that disappeared in 1933, right?” Sam got nods from both Max and Ukiah. “You look that much like him?”

“Not now.” Ukiah tried not to squirm in his seat. “The photograph taken when I was found does. Cassidy was the one that figured out that Alicia could have seen the picture and made the connection.”

“So, your family has this weird genetic weakness for disappearing into the wilderness and running with a pack of wolves?” Sam asked.

“Well, yes,” Ukiah said unhappily.

Sam shook her head. “It's amazing you keep finding girls to overlook that little oddity and produce the next generation to get lost all over again.”

Max coughed. “Alicia asked the post office clerk if they knew anyone by the name of Kicking Deer.” He consulted his PDA. “He told her that Elaine Kicking Deer works at the Watering Hole on Fridays and Saturdays.”

“She's a waitress,” Sam said. “The Watering Hole is across town.”

“Being tonight is Saturday,” Max said, “it would be best if we work the crowd, see if anyone saw or talked to Alicia.”

“The crowd there tends to be a little rough around the edge,” Sam said. “They drink to get drunk.”

“Then we definitely all should hit this one,” Max said. “In case one of us needs backup.”

The Watering Hole, Pendleton, Oregon
Saturday, August 28, 2004

The Watering Hole was a sprawling set of buildings down by the shallow Umatilla River. The ceilings were low, smoke from a dozen different brands of cigarettes hazed the air, the rooms were dark, and the darkness was cut mostly by the neon lights of beer logos. The jukebox played at deafening levels. Max and Ukiah had trawled through bars like this in Pittsburgh, usually smaller in size, looking for skips. Most of the crowd was just the poorer ranks of good average people. Mixed in was a rougher crowd. Unfortunately, it was difficult to tell the good from bad. It amazed Ukiah sometimes that the rougher-looking of two men might be the hardworking father of four just looking for a drink or two before heading home. What gathered them together in a room so dark that it was hard to see who you were with, with noise so loud that you had to shout to be heard?

They found Elaine Kicking Deer weaving through a crowd of mostly men, doing an amazing balancing act with glasses filled with alcohol. She was remarkably blond and blue-eyed, although dusky-skinned, and had a look around her eyes that said that she had some ethnic blood. She nodded to Sam, and eyed Ukiah with interest.

“So this is him? The incredible stud muffin, Wolf Boy?”

“Me?” Ukiah pressed a startled hand to his chest.

“Stud muffin?” Sam echoed uneasily.

Elaine laughed, deftly avoiding an already staggering
patron to keep her drinks intact. “I would think by now, Sammie, you would know how small a town this is.”

Sam threw a glance at Ukiah that almost seemed angry, then grew puzzled at whatever she saw on his face. “So?”

Elaine only laughed more, delivering the drinks around a crowded booth, nodding as the customers asked for nachos, wings, and a drink for a late arrival. The private investigators hung back, letting her work.

“What have you heard about my partner?” Max asked.

“A hell of lot more than about you,” Elaine said to Max, heading for the bar. “Between my family and the men in town, you'd think only one man flew in from Pittsburgh, not three.”

“What men?” Sam asked.

“Ricky Barkley, for one,” Elaine said.

This was a new name for Ukiah, and apparently an unexpected one for Sam. She looked even more puzzled.

“What is this Barkley saying?” Mix asked.

Elaine held up a finger, leaned across the bar, and repeated the drink order from the table. “He's here somewhere. Ask him yourself. I've got work to do.”

“We want to ask you questions about Alicia Kraynak.” Ukiah pushed the conversation back to Alicia. “We've been told that she came to talk to you last week.”

“Yeah, she was here,” Elaine shouted over the din. “Look, let me get these orders in, and I'll be back out to talk to you.”

Elaine vanished into the kitchen, already calling out food orders.

Max leaned in close to Sam to ask, “Who is Ricky Barkley? Do you see him?”

Sam scanned the room. “If he's here, he's in one of the other rooms. He's a jerk. He went to school with my ex. Then again, almost everyone has some connection to Peter. He works the night shift at the flour mill and lives up on South Nye, just down from the Red Lion. I served him papers once on a bad debt. I haven't seen him in months.”

“Any idea how he would know Ukiah?”

Sam shook her head. Elaine came sailing out of the
kitchen, holding aloft a tray of food in her left hand, and three plates stacked up her right arm. She delivered the food to a table on the other side of the bar from the booth, taking in new requests as she placed dishes in front of seated people. She came to drop drink orders at the bar, then turned back to them.

“Okay, the girl was here last Saturday night. She'd been out to the Tamástslikt and saw the photo of Magic Boy. I told my mother that was a bad idea and that Pap-pap shouldn't have loaned it out.”

“And Alicia told you about Ukiah.”

“Yeah, but I didn't believe her,” Elaine said. “Magic Boy's been missing for like eighty years, and most of us didn't believe those family legends. Jared is one of the biggest unbelievers, so if stud muffin here”—she patted Ukiah on the arm—“has him convinced, that's good enough for me. I told Alicia, though, that there was no way he could be Magic Boy.”

“What did
she
tell you?” Ukiah asked.

“She had a few beers, waiting for me to have time to talk, and she got a little sloshed. She told me how cute you are and how she had a huge crush on you and how some old Chinese-Hawaiian-White-Russian bitch snatched you out of the cradle when she had the decency to leave you there.”

Max burst out laughing.

“Indigo isn't old,” Ukiah protested. “She's twenty-six.”

“Yeah, that's the name. Indigo. It didn't sound Chinese to me.” Elaine gathered up drinks, preparing to move off. “And I didn't want to touch the White Russian bit with a ten-foot pole. Talk about old grudges.”

“Did she talk to anyone else?” Ukiah asked.

“I don't know,” Elaine said. “One of the other girls had called in sick and I barely had time to sneeze. Lot of the same people are here tonight. Maybe someone else noticed her talking to someone.”

“Is it always this crowded?” Max asked.

Sam was shaking her head, even as Elaine said, “No, things are building up for the roundup.”

With that Elaine hurried off again.

Max caught the look on Ukiah's face and laughed again. “Kid, you're fated to be thought of as much younger than you really are.”

“Well, it's starting to really suck,” Ukiah said. “What did she mean about White Russian?”

“Milk, vodka, and Kahlua,” Sam said with a grin.

Max threw Sam an amused warning look that said “cute, but don't confuse the boy.” “White Russians are a political party, like Republicans. Kraynak's grandfather went afoul of them in Czechoslovakia during the Russian civil war. I'm not sure if I followed the whole mess, but it's the reason the Kraynaks are in Pennsylvania instead of the old country.”

“Chinese, Hawaiian, Russian? That's one mutt puppy you date,” Sam said. “She's probably pretty, though. It's like God is trying to tell us something when the most beautiful people in the world are racially mixed.”

“Like yourself,” Max quipped, and then seemed to regret it. “Let's split up. If we descend in a herd, we'll spook people.”

So they scattered, hoping to find anyone that saw Alicia the week before. More people were drifting in through the front door, making the place even more crowded as the private investigators drifted apart. Ukiah had worked his way into another room, flashing Alicia's photograph and getting no answers.

“Did you see this woman last week?” he asked a tall, dark-haired man with a scar running up from his eye like an exclamation point.

“Hey!” The man grabbed Ukiah by the front of his shirt, and shoved Ukiah sideways into a knot of men and women; who parted and regrouped to surround Ukiah and his captor. “This is the guy, Peter!”

Peter Talbot perched on a bar stool, flanked close by the watching locals, like a king and his court. “What the hell are you talking about, Ricky?”

“Sam's Harley was parked outside of the Red Lion all night, and then she came out with
this
guy.” Ricky was heavily muscled and putting it to use to hold Ukiah still.
“Sam and him were all lovey-dovey and kissy-face in the parking lot.”

A howl went up from Talbot's court, a dangerous sound, promising trouble. It attracted the attention of more men and women, who formed a second rank of onlookers.

“Sam finally got nailed,” Ricky laughed. “Looks like you're going to be eating sloppy seconds, Talbot.”

“Asshole!” Peter Talbot breathed a fog of whiskey in Ukiah's direction. “I told you to leave my wife alone.”

“She's not your wife,” Ukiah started to protest.

Ricky gave Ukiah a shake. “Shut up, adulterer!”

“I'm amazed that you can put that many syllables together, Ricky.” Sam made her way to Ukiah's side, earning a laugh from some of the crowd.

“Shut up, slut!” Ricky pushed her back into the crowd. “You act so prissy, but you spread for the first pretty-boy Indian that came sniffing after you.”

Sam hauled back and punched him.

Ricky went down and was pulled to his feet by his jeering friends. “You're lucky, slut, that I don't hit women.”

“Well, then, this fight should be easy for me.” Sam punched him again.

A second laugh went up from the onlookers, and one man called, “Get him, Sam!” but a woman plunged through the crowd, shouting, “You bitch!” to launch herself at Sam. Ukiah ducked a grab from Peter and a punch from Ricky but caught a jab to his left eye from one of Peter's court. There were simply too many hands to dodge them all.

There was a deep, menacing growl from behind him, and the smell of wolf hit him. The men facing Ukiah caught sight of what was coming and suddenly scrambled backward.

Ukiah turned.

Rennie Shaw towered over most of the men around Ukiah by a head. Black-haired, dressed in leather pants and a long, leather duster, he blended into the shadows except for the doglike gleam of his eyes. He stalked forward, men parting as if shoved back by an invisible shield. Ukiah knew
there was no power there except fear. The leader of the Dog Warriors exuded menace that had even Ukiah backing up.

“Rennie!”

In a grab faster than any man could move, Rennie caught Ukiah by the throat, thumbs crushing down on his windpipe, and lifted him up off the ground.

“Wait!” Ukiah tried to say, but it came out as “Urk!”

“Did you sleep with his woman, cub?”

“I'm not
his
woman, and it's no one's business but mine who I slept with,” Sam stated, putting a gun to Rennie's head, her voice tight but level. “Put him down,” she ordered calmly. “You're crushing his windpipe. You might kill him even if that's not your intent.”

Peter Talbot grinned from behind Sam. “You spend a lot of time protecting your new boyfriend, Sammie Anne.”

“Shut up, Peter,” Sam said without taking her eyes from Rennie. “Don't mess with me when I'm pissed. You know what happens.”

“Well?”
Rennie asked, mind to mind.
“Did you have intercourse?”

“No. We did sleep in a big bed together, but I was wounded. Nothing happened.”

Rennie put Ukiah down. “Fine. Keep it that way.”

Sam tucked away her gun, cautiously, swearing softly.

“Hey, you're not going to let him go?” Ricky reached for Ukiah.

Rennie caught Ricky under the arm and flung him backward over the bar. Peter yelled and started for Rennie. Rennie reached under his leather duster and pulled out a sawed-off shotgun with the flair of a magician producing a rabbit. He leveled it at the local men, thumbing back the hammers. The men jerked to a halt.

“Someone in this town shot my boy.” Rennie growled softly. “I'm here to make sure no one messes with him again.”

“I think it's time to leave,” Max sang softly into Ukiah's ear, pulling him backward. He had Sam by the elbow.

“What about Ukiah's father?” Sam sounded like she was
asking for form's sake, not like she actually wanted anything to do with Rennie.

“Let the maniac get himself out of this,” Max said. “The more distance we put between us and him, the better.”

 

They had left Sam's Harley by the courthouse park, with the statue of Sheriff Til Taylor watching over it. Max parked behind the motorcycle and they got out. Under the spread of the trees, the park was now a pool of dark stillness. Sam disturbed the night's calm by pacing the sidewalk, shaking excess energy out of her hands.

“What the hell was all that macho crap about?” she demanded, her voice tight with anger. “Why did he grab Ukiah like that? Why does he care if the kid slept with me or not? Why is everyone suddenly going apeshit about my sex life?”

Ukiah looked to Max, helpless to explain Rennie's attack in any reasonable terms. Rennie's reactions were wrapped tight around Ontongard biology, alien invasion tactics, and Ukiah's status as the only breeder ever created on Earth.

Once the Ontongard left their home world, they discovered that hosts on subsequent planets usually died, instead of becoming Gets. The Ontongard off-balanced this problem with newly stolen knowledge of genetic manipulation, turning weapons aimed at them to their advantage. All following invasions started with creating half-breeds, children with a mix of alien and native genetics, breeders able to mate with the native life and create children with certain genetic weaknesses. The breeders themselves could resist the Ontongard infection—too like their fathers to succumb—but the next generation made perfect hosts.

Ukiah had been the only breeder created before his father, Prime, destroyed the scout ship that brought Hex and Prime to Earth. The Pack had thought Ukiah killed in the scout ship's destruction and were horrified to discover he wasn't. Their first response was to try and kill him. Luckily, Rennie noticed that despite Ukiah's nearly two hundred years of sexual maturity, he had no children.