Bug Man Suspense 3-in-1 Bundle (82 page)

Half an hour later the trowel hit something solid—but not with a
plink
as it did when it struck one of the endless fragments of stone. Nick scraped away the soil with his fingers until he saw the smooth ivory surface of bone. He needed to be certain this was not just some random fragment or the bone of a predator that had tried to dig down to the casketed remains. He carefully scraped away more dirt and found what appeared to be the iliac crest of a human pelvis staring back at him.

He continued to remove dirt from around the bone. He found shreds of fabric—a sure sign that the remains were fairly recent. He carefully pushed the pieces of fabric aside and dug deeper until his fingers felt something hard and smooth—the dislocated head of a humerus, perhaps. But when he tugged on it, the object gave way in his hands. He picked it up and looked at it; he blew on it and brushed the dirt away. It was spherical, just smaller than a golf ball, with a notch cut in one side. In the center of the notch was a kind of metal tongue. He pushed down on it with his thumb.

CLICK clack.

Nick parked his car in the Patriot Center parking lot and headed directly for Kegan. He found her in the tech tent sealing up yet another corrugated evidence box.

She looked up as he approached. “Where have you been? I haven't seen you all day.”

“I had something I needed to look into.”

“Sounds mysterious.” She looked at him—at his stained and dripping shirt, at the brown blotches of dirt ground into his knees, at the little lines on his face where rivulets of sweat had washed away the dust. “You've been digging. Where?”

“What are you doing after work?”

“Why?”

“You should be knocking off here soon—have you got any plans?”

“Yes—I plan to drive back to Charlottesville and take a nice hot bath. Why?”

“I was wondering if I could interest you in a little extracurricular activity.”

“What kind of activity?”

“If you're going to ask a lot of questions it will only slow us down. C'mon, what do you say? Just you and me—and all your digging tools.”

“Nick—what's going on?”

“I stumbled across something I want you to take a look at.”

“You never ‘stumble across' anything. You were looking for something.”

“All right, if you insist on being picky, I stumbled across something while I was looking.”

“What did you find?”

“Another double grave.”

“Here?”

“No—in another graveyard.”

“What graveyard? Where?”

“I'll explain on the way. Are you going to help me or not?”

“Polchak!”

They both turned and looked; Danny was hurrying toward them across the field.

“That doesn't sound good,” Kegan said.

“I don't have time for this now,” Nick groaned. “Do me a favor—”

“Forget it. You're on your own this time.”

“Fine—just get your tools together.”

Danny charged directly up to Nick and squared off with him toe-to-toe. “Would you mind telling me exactly what you know about this ‘Witch of Endor'?”

Nick did a double take. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“Where did you hear about the Witch of Endor?”

“From a waitress at Denny's this morning—apparently I'm about the last one to know, and based on my past experience with you, I can't say I'm surprised.”

“Oh, no—Look, I have to go.”

“You stay right where you are.”

“Danny, I need to know exactly what you heard.”

“No, you need to tell me exactly what
you've
heard—and I mean everything. The story I'm hearing is that our original cadaver dog team didn't find these graves.”

“That's true.”

“And that the graves were actually found by some woman who lives way up in the mountains—a woman with supernatural powers who can talk to animals.”

“That's not true—at least not all of it. Her name is Alena Savard. She's a dog trainer—she's got a cadaver dog that's almost psychic. I heard about her; I went up to see her when Marge couldn't do the job; she came down and helped me out one night, that's all.”

“You went to see a
witch
?” Kegan said. “Boy, I knew you were desperate, but—”

Danny turned to her. “Did you know about this too?”

“She didn't know anything,” Nick said. “I couldn't tell her—I couldn't tell you—I promised Alena I wouldn't tell anybody.”

“Why?”

“It's complicated.”

“We had an agreement—no more secrets.”

“I had an agreement with Alena too, and hers came first—this happened before you were even assigned here. Look, Danny, I can't talk now—I have to go.”

“You're not going anywhere, mister. If you're withholding information about a criminal investigation, I can have you arrested.”

“I'm not withholding information—I just don't have time to talk right now. If Alena's involvement has become public knowledge then her life could be in danger.”

“Then take me to her. I'll post an agent—I'll provide protection.”

“She's got a thousand acres up there—how many agents are you planning to post, and for how long? She doesn't need an armed guard, she needs to help us solve this case—that's the only way she's going to be safe long-term. She's a recluse, Danny—I need to go up there and convince her to come down, and it'll be a lot easier if you're not with me. C'mon, let me go—it'll be dark soon. I need you to trust me.”

“
Trust
you? Are you out of your mind?”

“I need until tomorrow morning—give me until then to convince her to come down. There's a lake in the mountains up above Endor called Dogleg Lake. Ask anybody in Endor—they can tell you how to find it. Meet me on the west bank at sunup and I'll explain everything— and bring the crew with you.”

“Give me one reason why I should trust you.”

Nick turned to Kegan. “Tell him, Kegan. Tell him I might be stubborn or obsessive or just plain crazy sometimes—but he can trust me.”

Kegan shrugged. “He's right, Danny, you can trust him. He's right about the ‘just plain crazy' part too, but you probably already know that.”

Danny glared at Nick and slowly shook his head. “Sunrise—the west bank of Dogleg Lake. And you'd better be there, Nick—because if you're not, I'll get a warrant for your arrest.”

Nick rapped on the door frame of the pastor's study. Gunner looked up from a copy of
The Bondage of the Will
and slid his glasses down to the tip of his nose.

“Got a minute?” Nick asked.

“For you, always. What's up?”

Nick sat down on the edge of an old leather chair. “We've got a problem.”

“Alena?”

Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out the faded and weathered buckeye. He held it up. “Do you know what this is?”

Gunner held out his hand and Nick tossed it to him. “Sure—it's a clicker. Did you get this from Alena?”

“No—I got it from her dad.”

It took a moment before the meaning sank in. “When? Where?”

“A couple of hours ago—at an old graveyard down by Dogleg Lake. I found his body in a double grave, Gunner—just like the ones at the Patriot Center.”

“
You
found him? Then Alena—”

“She doesn't know yet. That's why I'm here. I'm going up there, and I'd like you to be there when I tell her. I don't know how she'll take it.”

“I do,” he said, “and you're right—I should be there. Just give me a minute to call Rose.”

“Make it quick,” Nick said. “Her father's murderer is still out there— and he knows where Alena lives.”

29

He dropped from the chain-link fence into the low grass, then turned and pointed his flashlight into the woods ahead. A fragile mist was already beginning to collect on the ground, lying like a veil around the trees and brush, as cicadas and wood crickets chanted their midnight lament.

So this is where she lives
, he thought.

He started forward into the woods, pointing the beam ahead of him, but it was swallowed up by the darkness around him.

How long did they think they could keep it a secret? The woman who really found all those graves—the one they call the witch—the one they say has the power to raise the dead. How long did they think they could keep it a secret from me?

He stuck to the clearings as much as possible, picking his way through the brush when necessary. He felt a thin filament of spiderweb stretch across his face and the skitter of tiny legs on his cheek; he brushed it off and kept moving.

I have to find this woman. I have to get to her before the others do. We'll see what powers she really has.

He heard a sound to his left. He turned and pointed his flashlight; he saw a great black shadow and the eerie green glow of eyes staring back at him. He waited but the eyes came no closer; he started forward again and the eyes moved with him. He heard another sound on his right—then another behind him. He turned and saw two more pairs of glowing eyes watching his every move. He felt a knot of dread in his stomach but he forced it down.

There's always something,
he reminded himself.
Some barrier, some obstacle, something to keep me from getting the job done—but I've faced worse than this. She's crazy if she thinks this will stop me.

He started again with renewed confidence, trying his best to ignore the three sets of eyes that slowly tightened the circle around him—but in less than a minute the three dogs had encircled him completely and blocked him from taking a step in any direction.

He waved the flashlight like a club at one of them. “Get back, dog!”

The dog let out a subterranean growl.

Then he heard another sound—a small, whisking sound, like raking in shallow leaves, coming from somewhere in the darkness ahead. A moment later a tiny dog appeared and planted itself directly in front of him, challenging him, shattering the night with its incessant piercing yap. He pointed the flashlight at it and looked: It was ugly and hairless, with bulging black eyes and a jaw that jutted out to one side. He swung his right foot back and kicked the little dog, sending it tumbling into the darkness with a howling yelp.

The instant he did he felt a searing pain in the back of his left leg; the dog behind him had lunged forward and sunk its teeth into his hamstring, causing the muscle to spasm and the leg to instantly collapse. He threw back his head to scream—but before he could make a sound, the lead dog leaped forward and took him by the throat, sending him crashing to the ground and smothering the sound of his cry. The two dogs pinned him to the earth, one holding his throat and the other his leg, while the third dog took a middle position and fixed its eyes on the man's soft and unprotected belly.

He grabbed the muzzle of the dog at his throat and tried to pry it off—but when he did, the dog only tightened its grip. He felt himself getting light-headed; he wondered if the animal was crushing his carotids, cutting off the blood supply to his brain. He let his hands drop limply to the ground and lay paralyzed, staring up helplessly at the stars.

Nick and Alena heard the yelp from Ruckus and hurried through the woods. Alena knew every inch of the forest and ran through the brush like a gazelle; Nick stumbled along behind her, tripping over roots and rocks and catching the tree limbs that whipped back in his face as Alena let them go. Nick could hear Gunner running heavily somewhere behind him, but it was slower going for the older and heavier man, and the distance was increasing between them.

Alena got there first, checking to make sure that Acheron, Phlegethon, and Styx held the intruder safely in check—then she looked around in the darkness for Ruckus. There was no sign of the little dog. She raised her hands over her head and clapped once; nothing happened.

Now Nick stumbled into the clearing behind her, panting and pushing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. He saw the man lying motionless on the ground, surrounded by the three black behemoths.

“Been there, done that,” he said under his breath.

He spotted a flashlight glowing like a firefly in the grass; he picked it up and shined it down on the man's face. He shook his head. “And you wonder why people don't like reporters. Alena, this is Paul Decker— he's a reporter with WRTL.”

Decker looked up at him. “Is that you, Polchak?”

Nick pointed the flashlight at his own face. “I've always heard that a dog's mouth is very clean—not anymore.”

“Get these dogs off me, will you? One of them's biting my leg.”