Dead Demon Walking (20 page)

I could hardly believe my ears.
“You’re going to circulate the description given me by a
ghost?”

“
Sometimes even the Federal
Bureau of Investigation clutches at straws.” Vanderkamp hunched
over the table. “In the meantime, we still don’t know why Maureen
Owen called
you
,
of all people.”

I leaned back, slitting my eyes at
him, and told him the truth. “No idea.”

***

We went through everything over and
again until my head reeled. I didn’t get to sleep for a long time;
neither did Royal.

Why
did
Maureen call me? Was she in
danger and sought a private detective? But why would a woman in
Texas seek the help of an investigator in Utah? Did she know of my
uncanny skills? Did she
need
my skills? Why?

Did she know the killer was
nonhuman?

I think I passed out
somewhere around two in the morning. I woke to Royal jiggling my
foot. “Cut that out!” I mumbled into the pillow.

He jiggled it again. I rolled on my
back, grinning at the dark room. “Jesus! It’s the middle of the
night. You are insatiable.”

“
I am?” he said groggily in
my ear.

I shot up, flicked on the bedside lamp
and saw a man standing at the bottom of the bed.

During a long frozen moment, as I
tried to get my mind around what was happening, I wondered why
Royal still lay in bed, why he didn’t have his hands around the
guy’s throat.

Then my sleep-fogged brain recognized
Rio Borrego, an attractive young Latino, his shining black hair in
a thick braid, a black vest open over his smooth bare chest. The
last time I saw him, a battered, broken body in a chipped porcelain
bathtub, I thought I would see him again as a shade. In the dim
light I noticed thin, pale scars on his chest and arms, the only
evidence of the broken bones and rib which punctured his dusky
skin.

Something behind Rio
stirred.

She emerged from the deepest shadows
at the back of the room. I saw her face first, floating as if
disembodied, pale as a freshwater pearl. Her lips were crimson, her
dark eyes rimmed by sooty lashes. Her hair blended with the
darkness, except where it framed her face and fell on her bare
shoulders.

I say
something
, because it wasn’t human.
If the killer we chased was a creature of nightmares, the specter
seen from the corner of the eye, then what had entered our room was
the bogeyman, the monster under the bed.

“
Hello, Miss
Banks.”

My stomach flipped, but I refused to
panic or let Gia see how shock, dread and distaste unbalanced me. I
crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t know why you’re here. I
don’t want to know. Get out of our room.” I wiggled the fingers of
one hand. “Bye!”

“
I’m glad to see you have
not changed one whit, Miss Banks,” she drawled coolly. “I believe I
would become chagrined if you thought before you spoke.”

“
Now isn’t that like you to
cherish my most endearing quality. You are such a peach,” I
deadpanned.

“
Why are you here?” Royal
asked.

She flowed nearer, as sleek and
elegant as I recalled. The lamp light sheened her high-necked,
ankle-length black dress and made her black high-heeled pumps glow
as if spit-polished. Her voice was so cold, I’m surprised icicles
didn’t drip from the ceiling. “You will forget this investigation.
It never happened.”

I tucked in my chin. “We can’t do
that. The FBI brought us here. They’re in the next room. And why
should we, anyway?”

She didn’t answer that. “I will deal
with the agents.”

We were naked, but Royal got out of
bed anyway. The way she tweaked her eyebrows and ran the tip of her
tongue over her upper lip made me madder than a wet hen.

“
The Bureau has case files
on the murders, not to mention assorted law enforcement agencies
all over the nation.” He pulled on his Levi’s. Fastening the top
two buttons, he turned to face her. “Interfering with two agents
will do nothing more than set the cat among the
pigeons.”

Royal didn’t know the meaning of idiom
when I met him. Now they peppered his conversation, except with me
it was second nature while he saw a whole new fun way to confuse
people.

Gia’s eyes slit to an icy
glare.

“
He’s right,” I
opined.

She folded her arms and
looked away, then back. “Very well. But
your
involvement is over.”

Fine by me. After sweating over it for
hours, I’d decided I didn’t want anything more to do with the FBI.
I knew Royal and I couldn’t forget what we’d seen and what we knew
and would pursue the investigation privately, our way, but I’d be
happy to never see an FBI agent again.

“
It may not be that easy,”
Royal said.

Gia’s smile was gelid as her eyes.
“I’m sure you will manage.” She rose to her feet and backed from
the bed, deeper into the dimly lit room, shadows clinging to her
like cobwebs. The door closed behind her and Rio.

One of these days I’ll
know everything there is to know about you
.
It was on my to-do list, just below who my parents were, why they
dumped me, and how come I see dead people.

Pulling the sheet up to my neck, I
stared the door.

“
Well. . . ,” Royal
said.

“
Yeah,” I agreed miserably.
Gia Sabato just told us to back off. I didn’t want to get on the
wrong side of a Dark Cousin, but we couldn’t quit this
investigation.

He pulled on his T-shirt. “It’s six
o’clock. Let’s talk about it over breakfast.

***

We checked out the breakfast room, but
the continental breakfast - dry croissants, gummy-looking fruit
pastries and overcooked French toast - did not appeal to us. We
headed back to the foyer. A short, pear-shaped young man in a
crumpled taupe suit leaned on the desk as he read a newspaper. He
looked taupe all over, with his doughy face and dirty-blond
hair.

I smiled. “Excuse me, could you -
”

He didn’t look up from the paper.
“Someone will be along to help you in a minute.”

“
Thanks, but could you -
”

He raised his head to peer at me with
narrow brown eyes. “I’m sure I couldn’t. Not my job, you
see.”

“
But I only - ”

He huffed through his nose and gave me
a disagreeable look. “As I said, Miss - ”

Royal’s turn to interrupt. He stepped
up to the desk, saying, “Mr. McNugget, if you would be so kind as -
”

“
MacNaggard!” The guy
jabbed one finger at the nametag pinned to his lapel. “It’s
MacNaggard!”

Royal half turned to look over his
shoulder, to where a McDonald’s raised its golden arches across the
street.

I had to duck my head and cover my
mouth with my palm. The man did look remarkably like a chicken
nugget on legs.

Royal turned back to him.
“So it is. How rude of me. I do apologize. There is no excuse for
bad manners.” He leaned on the desk on one elbow, bringing his face
within inches of the clerk’s and spoke in a lower tone. “I strongly
suggest you remember that when you
politely
tell my friend what she
wants to know.”

The clerk saw something he didn’t like
in Royal’s expression. His adam’s apple bobbled as he swallowed.
With a visible effort, he drew his gaze from Royal and regarded me
anxiously.

Speaking was difficult with my mouth
quivering and the guy couldn’t miss it. I struggled to get the
words out. “Where is the nearest family-style
restaurant?”

“
That would be Edward’s on
Second Street, this side of the tracks,” he said briskly, meaning
our side of the rail road tracks. I imagine the tracks are often
included in directions for North Platte, as the place grew up
around them and the Railroad is the biggest employer. Union
Pacific’s Bailey Yard covers 2850 acres. “I recommend it,” the guy
added, summoning an insincere, wavering smile.

Royal and I hurried outside, where I
had to collapse on a bench till I stopped giggling. “McNugget,” I
gasped out. “You. . . .”

“
Demon?” he asked with a
grin and twinkling eyes.

“
Devil!” I bent over my
knees. Laughing felt good; it loosened some knots in my body and
unclenched my belly.

Then the memory of Gia in our room
crushed my mirth to cinders.

He took my hand and helped me up. “Are
you hungry or not?”

Not with all that happened, but
nothing much diminished Royal’s appetite.

We didn’t feel like traipsing all the
way to Second Street or trying to find a cab, so went to
McDonald’s. I slid into a booth. Royal ordered for us and joined me
with a loaded tray a few minutes later.

I listlessly pushed my scrambled eggs
around the plate with my fork. Sunlight burned through the window,
haloing Royal’s bright head.

“
The killer is a Dark
Cousin and they don’t want us anywhere near him,” he mused as he
reached for the ketchup bottle. “Despite my personal opinion of
them, I don’t believe they approve of his atrocities. They want to
apprehend him themselves.”

I nodded morosely. I had nothing to
add or discuss. We’d already been over it. Apart from what he just
reiterated, I couldn’t even hypothesize.

“
I can ask the High House,
but surely they would have told me if they knew about a Dark Cousin
run amok.”

I nodded glumly again. “I don’t want
to work with the Bureau anymore.”

He glanced up from dousing his
breakfast with ketchup

I met his gaze earnestly. “I’ve seen
more than my fair share of dead people, but not like these. I know
we can’t pretend it hasn’t happened, we have to get to the bottom
of these killings, but can’t we do it alone?”

“
We can try.” He put the
ketchup bottle aside. “I doubt we’ll learn anything more from the
agents, even if they take us to the other murder scenes. We should
withdraw from the case and pursue our own investigation. They’ll
give us a hard time, and no doubt they will watch us, but we can
get around that.”

I felt some of the weight lift off my
shoulders. “Good, because I’m sick of seeing mutilated people. I
want to go home.”

***

The sun was already gearing up to
scorch Nebraska when we left McDonald’s at seven. Traffic had
increased as we ate. I saw Vanderkamp near the large, white-stucco
motel’s entrance as we waited to cross the road. The stocky agent
had his jacket pushed back so he could shove his hands in his hip
pockets, revealing the strap of his shoulder holster.

I sighed gustily. “Our very own
babysitter. Do we tell him we quit now?”

“
Why butt heads before we
have to? They may not need you again anyway. If they do,
then
you tell them you
resign.”

Sounded like a plan to me. My hand in
the crook of Royal’s arm, we darted across the road. Vanderkamp
watched our approach with hooded eyes.

Gunn came through the doors as we
crossed the verge and stepped into the motel’s parking
lot.

Vanderkamp checked his wristwatch and
spoke when we got in range. “Your flight leaves in an hour. You
should head out now.”

I freed my hand.
“
Our
flight?”

“
We fly out later. We
haven’t finished at the farm yet.”

We would travel minus two annoying FBI
agents? I could cope with that.

A black SUV pulled in the parking lot
and stopped in front of the motel. Why was I not
surprised?

Vanderkamp twitched one hand at the
car. “Your ride.”

He shoved his hand back in his pocket.
“Thank you, Miss Banks. We’ll be in touch.”

Leaving the deodorant and toothpaste
the Bureau so thoughtfully provided in the motel, Royal and I
climbed in the SUV.

***

The flight back to Denver took two
hours and forty-five minutes because we stopped at five small
airfields in between. We no sooner gained altitude than we started
our descent. I felt dreadful. As we landed for the third time, I
groped for a bag in the seat pocket, just in case, but no luck. I
bet Great Lakes Airlines pays out a fortune for them and still
can’t keep enough onboard for queasy commuters.

Royal was all sympathy. “I
heard people can go green from motion sickness, but this is the
first time I have
seen it.” He considered
me with mock gravity. “Not your color.”

I eyed him balefully. “If I throw up,
you know where it’s going, Mr. Smart Aleck.”

He put his mouth near my ear and said
in an undertone, “You so much as burp, I will be at the other end
of the plane.”

Chapter
Fourteen