Wild Wild Death (18 page)

I smiled, too. Or at least I tried. But then, like I said, I’d played this game before. He should have realized that and known I wasn’t wil ing to let him have the upper hand. At least not yet. “Because then you wouldn’t be able to tel me why you fol owed me and what the hel you’re doing here.”

Another shot, and he sprang into action. At the same time he pushed me forward, he wheeled around and squeezed off a few shots. And me? I scurried like a redheaded bunny, and if I looked like a goofbal , darting and ducking, I didn’t care. Al that mattered was that I made it to that outcropping of rocks. As soon as I did, I dropped to my knees and prayed like I’d never prayed before that Jesse wouldn’t get shot on his way over to join me.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute but it felt like forever before he darted out from behind those like forever before he darted out from behind those big boulders, shooting and running. A few yards away from where I was huddled, he dropped to the ground and slid like a bal player nearing second base, and I swear my heart stopped beating. If he’d been hit… If he’d been shot…

When he rol ed to his knees and scooted beside me, I pressed a hand to my very thankful heart.

He peeked over the edge of the rocks, and I could tel by the relentless way he scanned the landscape that he stil didn’t have a bead on the shooter. He took a couple shots anyway, just to show the guy he meant business. When he was done, he darted a look at me out of the corner of his eye.

“So… you were going to tel me what you’re doing here.”

“Was I? I thought you were going to tel me why you fol owed me.”

One corner of his mouth twisted into what might have been a smile. It was kind of hard to tel since his face was streaked with dirt and he wasn’t the smiley sort to begin with. “Give me some credit. I didn’t have to fol ow you.”

Okay, so I was a bit off my game, what with the running and the being scared to death and al . I stil didn’t get it. “Because…”

“Because I got here before you did, of course.”

My stomach jumped into my throat, and this time, it had nothing to do with the crazy attraction that sizzled in the air between us. If Jesse knew I was coming here… If he was here waiting for me… If this was some sort of ambush…

Pikestaffed by my own logic, I jumped to my feet and pointed a shaky finger at him. “You… you’re one of the kidnappers!”

I found myself back on my knees just as quickly.

But then, Jesse’s hand was like a vise on my arm.

“Stay down!” he yel ed, just as another shot smacked into the dirt in front of us. And another.

Even that wasn’t enough to make me crouch down and cover. I was too busy being outraged, staring at Jesse when he returned fire.

He shot me a look. “I’m not one of the kidnappers,” he growled.

“But—”

“But nothing. There’s more than one way to figure out what a person is up to, and you’re not exactly Mata Hari.”

“Who—”

“She was executed for being a spy during World War One. And that doesn’t matter. You—” As if his words had been snipped with scissors, Jesse stopped. He tipped his head, listening. I guess he must have bionic hearing because after a minute or so, he slapped a hand to his thigh and stood.

“Son of a—”

That was when I final y heard a truck engine rev, somewhere far down the arroyo. “He’s gone?”

Jesse’s mouth pul ed into a thin line. “He’s gone.”

He offered me a hand up. “My cruiser’s parked over that way,” he said, and when he took off for it, he tugged me along at a double-step. “I’ve got to radio in and get somebody out here fast.”

“Not before you explain.” I braced my legs and refused to budge an inch and he had no choice but to stop and whirl to face me.

“Funny,” he said, “that’s exactly what I was going to ask you to do.”

“You first.”

“Al right.” He looked me up and down. “What were you doing at the cemetery last night?”

“That’s not fair. I said you had to explain yourself first. Asking questions doesn’t qualify as explaining yourself. And the cemetery—” I realized exactly what was going on, and my breath caught. “You’ve been watching me.”

“Like a hawk.”

“So when you cal ed me last night…”

“I was sitting out in the parking lot. Under that one light that wasn’t working. I guess it was a pretty good move because you didn’t even notice my car when you dragged your suitcase out there. So now you can explain. You know, about why you decided not to leave, and why you had to go to the cemetery first, and what any of this has to do with kidnappers.”

“No, no, no!” Okay, I stomped my foot in the dust.

It was a childish thing to do, but justified. So was the fact that I raised my voice. Jesse obviously wasn’t listening to a thing I said, so I figured I needed to be a tad more forceful. “You said you didn’t fol ow me, but you obviously knew I was coming here. And you wouldn’t know I was coming here unless—”

“I read the note, of course. The one from that guy.” His brows low over his eyes, he looked over to where Arnie’s body lay in a pool of blood. “The note he slipped under your motel room door.”

he slipped under your motel room door.”

This time, I couldn’t even find the words to express my outrage so I stammered for a while.

Final y, I propped my fists on my hips. “You read—”

“Oh, come on!” I could practical y see the sarcasm dripping from those luscious lips. You didn’t expect me to do nothing, did you? First you show up from out of nowhere—”

“Cleveland isn’t exactly nowhere.”

The city’s reputation preceeded it. He rol ed his eyes. “Then your car gets sabotaged way out here where you don’t belong in the first place.”

“I told you, I was—”

“Then you get smacked over the head outside the home of a woman who was just murdered.”

“And I explained that, too. I said—”

“Then you start spouting off about somebody named Goodshot, and around here, that can only mean one person. Chester Goodshot Gomez is something of a legend in my tribe. He was a star in a Wild West show and people stil tel stories about him. He’s been dead for over one hundred years.”

“I was a little woozy when I was mumbling about Goodshot. Hit over the head, remember?”

“And now this?” Jesse threw his hands out and spun around, as if that
now this
of his suddenly made more sense simply because of where we were. “That guy got murdered right in front of our eyes. And you were here to meet him because, at six o’clock this morning, he showed up at your motel room and left that note for you. Cal me crazy, or maybe I’m just insightful, but I figured you weren’t an early riser. I waited until he drove away and I got a slim jim out of my car. You know, one of those things you can slip down alongside a window and into a car door to unlock it. Perfect for sticking under a door”—he demonstrated with one hand—“and sliding out a note.”

“So you read that note before I read that note?”

“And that’s when I knew I had to get up here because I knew that whatever you’re up to, you’re in way over your head.” He was wearing his Stetson, and he ripped it off and scraped a hand through his inky hair. “What’s this about a curse? And what does it have to do with kidnappers? You thought I was one of them. You said so yourself. Whatever’s going on”—another look over his shoulder to where Arnie lay—“it didn’t exactly work out for him, did it? And you’ve got plenty of explaining to do. This is pueblo land, Pepper, and whatever’s going on, those kidnappers are messing with me now.” Another thought hit, and he groaned. “Shit, I’m going to have paperwork a mile high to deal with, and now that we’ve got a murder on our hands, I’m going to have to cal in the FBI.” He plopped his hat back on his head, gave me a disgusted look, took off the hat, and jammed it on my head. “And don’t you know not to come out here without some sort of hat? It’s one thing now that it’s getting dark but when the sun is out—”

Okay, I shouldn’t have started laughing. After al , he was being as serious as a heart attack. Blame it on the adrenaline shooting through my body. Or the relief I felt now that I realized we weren’t going to get picked off like ducks at a shooting gal ery. Maybe I just pictured myself out there in the middle of nowhere wearing off-brand jeans and a cowboy hat that was way too big for me and appreciated how ridiculous the whole thing was.

In the long run, it didn’t real y matter. My laughter shut him up, and side by side, we made our way to Jesse’s cruiser and he put in al the cal s he had to, and after that, he was too busy to bother me with any more questions. Backup arrived, and along with three other members of the pueblo police force, Jesse set up a few high-powered lights and a perimeter around Arnie’s body and got to work. It was pitch dark by that time, and with nothing to do, I sat on a rock nearby (just in case the coyotes I could hear cal ing to each other decided to make an appearance) and learned to appreciate the glory of the Milky Way and stars the likes of which must shine over Cleveland, but I’d never seen before.

It was nearly dawn by the time everything was taken care of and Jesse fol owed me back to my motel, and I swear, though I’d reminded myself about a thousand times that my experiences with Quinn were enough to make me swear off cops for al time and that I’d never, ever go to bed with one again, what happened after that was completely out of my control.

Blame it on the adrenaline.

B

y the time I woke up, it was after noon, and Jesse was showered and sitting on the edge of the bed. He was dressed only in blue-and-white-plaid boxers, and his hair was loose. At the risk of sounding poetic (something I am so not!), it flowed over his bare shoulders like it had touched mine during our hours together, like black silk. For a few moments, I was distracted enough to forget about al the horrible things that had happened the night before and concentrate on the amazing stuff that went on between us when we got back to the motel. The look in his eyes cured me of that, and fast.

It was time for answers.

Weird thing is, for the first time since I’d been gifted with this Gift, I was actual y ready to do something I’d never done with anybody—give them to him.

I plumped the pil ows, propped them behind my back, and made sure the threadbare blanket was tucked under my arms. No use taking his mind off the matter at hand. Not when we were about to have
the
talk.

“I see ghosts,” I said, then corrected myself and barreled on before I could talk myself out of it. “At least I used to see ghosts. It al started back at home when I tripped and hit my head on a mausoleum.

And since then, I’ve been… wel , sort of investigating for the ghosts. You know, they ask me to right a wrong, or clear their names, or find their bodies…

and I’ve been doing this for a couple years and that’s how I got involved in this whole thing with Goodshot, because there are these crazy basebal fans and they’re convinced Goodshot is cursing our team and they kidnapped Dan and he’s a friend of mine, and I had to bring Goodshot’s bones back here so I did.

And it’s not like they know I can see ghosts—I mean, the basebal fans, not the ghosts, because of course the ghosts know I can see ghosts. But the basebal fans don’t know I see ghosts, they only know that Goodshot’s bones were at the cemetery where I work. Only I don’t work there anymore, but they figured even so, I stil know people and stil have access. Which isn’t true, either. At least about having access because I had to steal the keys to Goodshot’s mausoleum and that’s what I did and I took his bones and I got here and I was al set to exchange the bones for Dan, but then the bones got stolen and I got hit on the head and I’m not sure, but I’m pretty sure…” I paused for a moment, waiting for the familiar surge of ghostiness to tingle along my skin, and when it didn’t, I was convinced and went on.

“No, I’m sure. I’m sure after that whack on the head I got over at Norma’s, I can’t see ghosts anymore because Goodshot and his girlfriends have disappeared, and see, I was real y happy about that.

The no-ghost thing, not the whack on the head.

Because real y, it’s not like in the movies when people talk to the dead, and it’s al interesting and like that. It’s real y more of a pain in the neck, and because of the ghosts, people keep trying to kil me.