Bitter Waters (15 page)

Indigo shook her head. “In all the previously recovered cars, forensics has found aged plaster in the floor mats, all from the same house. We've recovered the car used in Kittanning's kidnapping and found traces of the same plaster on the floor mats.”

“You've recovered the car!” Ukiah cried.

“Yes.” Indigo's sigh indicated that the find held no leads. “We assumed that they would follow normal MO and abandon the car in a parking lot. We contacted all lot owners, and it was reported in two hours ago.”

“We have some fingerprints on file of suspected cult
members; not all of them have been entered into the national database,” Hutchinson offered. “We could cross-reference them.”

“We will.” Indigo turned to Ukiah. “You remember the shooter?”

Ukiah nodded. “White male. About six-two. Two hundred pounds. Graying mousy blond hair. Gray eyes. Lots of pockmarks on his face. Late twenties or early thirties.” He dredged out the clothing information. “He had a shoulder holster, under the jacket. A forty-five with a silencer. He had a prison tattoo on his right arm. I saw it when he lifted his hand and his jacket rode up. It was a snake or a dragon done in blue, twining up his arm.”

Indigo noted it down. “It matches the descriptions from the other cases, just a lot more detailed. Did you see the driver?”

Ukiah closed his eyes and carefully stepped through the memory. It was like flipping through photographs, only far more detailed. He opened the door and the man stood there, his nervous sweat now a glaring sign of things to come. Yes, and there was the scent of gunmetal, begging to be noticed. Ukiah changed the focus now, past the front porch to the street below. Mom Jo explained once that the human eye took in a room not in a single steady study, but a thousand seemingly random focus points that merged in the subconscious to make up a single impression. Most people couldn't separate out the individual points and sharpen in on those, but he could.

The white Taurus sat at the curb, presenting its flank, engines idling, the driver looking toward him. “The driver was a girl, white, blond, medium build. She's young, I would say she's only sixteen or seventeen, if that.”

The car and the girl seemed familiar. Indigo said that the two kidnappers would stalk their victims, so he cast back through his recent memories for either one. He found the car in his memories of Monday—it had nearly back-ended him as he jockeyed through the Squirrel Hill traffic on Murray Avenue. Through glimpses in his mirror, and casual scans of the parking lot later, he watched as it pulled into the Giant Eagle's parking lot, found a space on the other side of the lot, and pulled facing him.

“They were following me yesterday. They parked, and he followed me into the Giant Eagle.”

“I'm surprised they didn't try to take him there,” Indigo noted. “Two of the kidnappings were in stores.”

Ukiah remembered the cantaloupe woman, her fearful reaction to Rennie. She nearly had it right, only Rennie beat the real kidnappers to the punch. “I ran into some friends; they were buying food for a cookout. We shopped together. There was a lot of them, and some of them were armed.”

Hutchinson looked surprised at this news. Indigo noted something down, presumably nothing that directly mentioned the Pack. Unease crept into her face.

“If they followed you to the store,” she asked, “were they here earlier, say around noon, watching the office?”

When Indigo visited.

Ukiah scanned the street as they stood outside saying good-bye, Kittanning warm in his arms. “Yes.”

“Were you armed when you went to Giant Eagle?”

“Yes.”

“Here's a theory,” Indigo said. “They stalk you and notice that you and your friends go armed. They deem it too dangerous to do their normal snatch and run, but decide to eliminate anyone armed prior to taking Kittanning.”

Ukiah blanched, ticking through his mind all the possible people that might have answered the door instead of him. Max. Sam. Indigo. He started to growl in anger again.

“Are you up to coming downtown,” Indigo asked, “to work with a police artist and look through the mug books?”

Ukiah nodded. “Let me get something warmer on. I'm still a little shocky from being shot.”

Max and Indigo exchanged looks. Indigo asked
make sure he's okay
without speaking, and Max answered with a nod and a reassuring touch to her shoulder.

“I want to change too,” Max said. “Give us a couple of minutes,” he said to the federal agents, “and we'll follow you downtown.”

As Ukiah started wearily up the steps, their part-time investigator, Chino, opened the door and came in. Max must have briefed him because Chino eyed Hutchinson with open
suspicion. After a quick introduction to the federal agent, Chino helped Max get Sam upstairs to the guest bedroom. They got her settled while Ukiah peeled off his borrowed T-shirt and pulled on one of his black tracking T-shirts. It felt more comforting to have its familiar darkness press against his skin; the other shirt had been a constant reminder that a stranger had dealt him violent death and taken Kittanning.

Max came in as Ukiah pulled a sweatshirt out of his closet. “Hold on a sec.” He pulled up Ukiah's T-shirt to check his bandages. He caught Ukiah's puzzled look and said, “I want to make sure all the holes are covered. I'm amazed those idiots even have bandages.”

Idiots? Oh, the Dog Warriors. Ukiah was puzzled by Max's bitterness until he remembered the mess at the bar. “Were any of the men at the bar hurt?” And realizing that was a stupid question, he added, “Badly?”

“Some broken bones and mild concussions. Luckily nothing more serious, but it put us on the map again with the Pack. Right now we're considered businessmen in the same league as ambulance companies; we have a good reason to be at the scene of a crime without being considered responsible for it. This keeps up, and we're going to gain the reputation of troublemakers.”

“I'm sorry, Max.”

Max winced. “I shouldn't be chewing you out. We don't have time for it. I'm just generally pissed, that's all. We had to admit that you were at the bar, but you left alone. I've called and left messages on your phone. You've been out looking, no help from the Pack mentioned.”

“Okay. We need to find out what we can on this cult. Hutchinson might be right. They had those photographs of me for some reason.”

Max nodded. “Keep your mouth shut around him as much as you can, though, kid. If that cult is now Ontongard, and that's what Hutchinson is really poking his nose into, it's best you stay as far away from him as you can.”

“If it is the Ontongard, we should warn him.” Ukiah moved to pull on the gray sweatshirt. “Somehow.”

“We'll figure that out if the need arises.” Max plucked the
sweatshirt from his hands, adding, “No, not that one.” Max flashed the
PROPERTY OF THE FBI
stenciled onto the front. “If Indigo is going to stay on this case, you can't be reminding people how personally involved she is.” Max pulled out a white sweater. “This one. It's good for the innocent victim look.”

Max went to change.

Ukiah's sensitive ears caught Hutchinson saying to Indigo downstairs, “I know it's not my place to say this, but you're setting yourself up to be hurt.”

“What do you mean?” Indigo said after a shocked moment of silence.

“He might seem like any other man, but they're different from the rest of us. Nobody is going to look at the two of you and think that you're together for love. And in the end, that just tears you apart.”

Did Hutchinson know that he wasn't human? Ukiah walked to the balcony to look down into the foyer.

Indigo stood with her arms crossed, the events of the day showing by the fact she was telegraphing her irritation. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Cut me some slack.” Hutchinson laughed, disbelieving, mockingly. “You walk in like you own the place, and you don't need to introduce yourself, or be introduced. It's obvious. And I'm just saying that it won't work, and you're just going to get hurt. Fed to fed; we take care of our own.”

“Do you want to keep talking in code, or are you going to actually try to say something that makes sense?”

“Look, I've been there. I worked at a yacht club on weekends to help pay for college. And I made the mistake of falling in love with one of them. How can you resist? They're sleek, all defects surgically corrected, wearing stylish fashions and all so self-assured. The rest of the world is frumpy in comparison. The problem is that if you're not one of the breed, then you're a grasping social climber, just out to use them.”

“You think I'm dating Max?” Indigo asked carefully.

It was nearly funny to see Hutchinson realize that he misstepped. “You're not?” He noticed Ukiah coming slowly
down the steps. “Oh!” And then the realization of her connection to Kittanning tripped in. “Oh! I'm sorry.”

With the proverbial cat out of the bag, Ukiah put out his hand to Indigo. She clasped it tightly.

“I'd rather not talk about this,” Indigo said quietly.

Hutchinson nodded, his eyes narrowing. Whatever he thought, he kept to himself. “I'll meet you downtown.”

“Thank you,” Indigo said.

Ukiah and Indigo held each other, offering comfort, seeking comfort, but there was no real peace to be had, not with Kittanning gone.

Max came trotting down the steps, slowing as he saw them together and Hutchinson missing from the foyer. “Did I miss something?”

“Nothing,” Ukiah growled.

“Hutchinson thought I was dating you.” Indigo smiled slightly. “He was warning me off; apparently a rich girl dumped him, so he didn't want me hurt the same way.”

“Dating me? What made him . . . ?” Max trailed off, snapping his fingers. “Rich girl!” Max ducked into his office, sorted through folders, opened one, and flipped through the paper within until he found what he was looking for. He scanned the paper, swearing softly. “Oh, kid, sometimes I wish I had your memory.” He handed a single sheet of paper to Ukiah, saying, “I can't believe I didn't make the connection until now. All I remembered was Hutchinson was going to marry someone rich. This explains a lot.”

It was a print off of a
New York Times
on-line article. “Boston Debutante to Wed,” it stated. “John Adams and Caroline Woods Whillet (of Dover, MA) announced the engagement of their daughter, Christina Amelia Whillet, to Grant Charles Hutchinson (of Boston), son of Steven and Mary Helen Hutchinson of Glouster. Christina is a graduate of Harvard and the honorary chairperson of the Make-a-Wish Foundation. Grant is a graduate of Boston University, cum laude, and works in Washington, D.C. The couple plans a June wedding next year at Martha's Vineyard and a honeymoon on the Whillets' yacht.”

The accompanying photograph was of Hutchinson and
Christina, formally dressed and rigidly posed. Knowing Hutchinson's height, the picture put the earlier photograph of Christina into scale; she was a very small woman, which made her look younger than her twenty-two years of age.

Ukiah checked the date. “They would have been married two months ago if she hadn't joined the cult.”

“I wonder if he's gone rogue,” Indigo said. “He could be on vacation and using his federal ID to carry on his investigation. If so, he could make a complete mess of this kidnapping.”

“Well, at least you don't have to worry about him reporting that you have a possible conflict of interest.”

 

At the police station, Ukiah gave his statement on his shooting and Kittanning's kidnapping. After he sat through an artist sketch session to produce pictures of both the male shooter and the female driver, they set him up with a computer running mug shots. He scanned them quickly, checking each face against those locked in to his memory. Females first, since there were fewer, and then the males. Neither face appeared in the computer files, or the old hardbound books.

Having exhausted what was open to the public, he quietly begged Indigo for information normally kept out of public hands. Her lips thinned as he talked.

“I can't have the Pack smashing their way through this case in a mad frenzy to find Kittanning,” she said. “I want him found as much as you, but not at the cost of human life. Look at what they did today at that bar. A dozen men hospitalized because they happened to be between Sam and the Pack.”

And it could have been worse if Sam hadn't stopped Rennie.

“I think I can control them if I have something to give them, focus their efforts. I'm not sure what they'll do if left to their own devices.”

Anger flashed over her face. “Is that a threat?”

“No. It's just the truth, Indigo. The Pack is going to believe that Hex used a human to take Kittanning until proved otherwise. They'll do anything to get him back, kill anyone, and level this entire city to rubble, if that is what it takes. And it's
not going to be just the Dog Warriors. If we don't find him quickly, Rennie will contact the other clans.”