Indelible (34 page)

Natalie’s stomach clenched like a fist, her whole body clammy as Trevor drove to the studio. Forming the image in clay would make it real. Holding that face in her palms could hurt more than anything she’d done. But holding it in her head was worse.

Trevor’s hand closed over her knee, warm and heavy. “Almost there.”

She nodded. For her sake and Cody’s, for Michaela and any others, she had to do this. She’d give Chief Westfall what she could—if she could.

“Nattie?” Trevor pulled open the car door.

“Thanks.”

He used her key to let them in. “Alarm code?”

She told him.

She groped her way to the table and found the clay she’d beaten the day before. Damp. Cold. Grainy. She began to gather the edges in, pulling the clay toward her and into the center in a mound. On the table, her phone rang.

“That’s Piper,” she said. “Can you press Speaker?”

He did.

“Hi, Piper. Is Cody okay?”

Piper said, “Yes, but, Natalie, someone broke into the bakery.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Her head throbbed.

“The police called. I have to go over there.”

But that would leave Cody with Fleur. She turned. “I’ve got this, Trevor. Go get Cody.”

He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you. We’ll go together.”

“No, please. I have to do this. I can’t keep it in any longer.”

Clearly uncertain, he looked from the phone to her, then told Piper, “I’m on my way.”

Relief came out in a rush. “Thank you.”

“The chief will be here in a minute.”

“I’ll be fine. Get Cody. Keep him safe. I couldn’t bear anything else hurting him.”

“Lock the door behind me.”

“It locks automatically.” A moment later, she heard him test it from the other side. Grimly determined, she reached for the clay.

On his way to the gallery, Jonah picked up the call. “What is it, Newly?”

“B and E at the bakery, Chief. Description from the witness sounds a little hinky.”

“Hinky how?”

“I think you ought to talk to him. It’s Bob Betters.”

Jonah scowled, picturing the auto sales manager, sleek blond hair, shiny face.

After what he pulled on their “date,” Bob Betters had no business anywhere near Piper’s bakery. He said, “I’m working something, but I’ll swing by there first and hear him out.”

Bob stood up from the bumper of the PT Cruiser and hung his thumbs in the pockets of his Dockers as Jonah approached.

“Bob. Officer Newly.” He nodded to them.

Newly spoke first. “Back door’s unlocked. Piper’s pretty sure she didn’t leave it that way, but can’t say for sure she set the alarm. She’s coming over to see what’s missing. Meanwhile, Bob says he saw someone exit that was in no way Piper.”

“One of her employees?”

“He looked like a bat.”

Jonah turned. “Come again?”

“He was wearing a hood and something gray or black with … wings.”

“Wings.”

“They were wrapped around, but yeah, looked like wings.”

“Some kind of cape?”

“Attached at the wrists maybe. You want my guess, it’s that freak, Miles.”

“He look six-seven?”

Bob scowled. “No, I guess not.”

One thing he knew, Bob Betters lacked the imagination to make this up. “Any reason you were right around here?”

“You mean the main street, in the city where I live?”

“All right. Just tell Officer Newly what you were doing so it goes in the report.”

“Sure, Chief.” A sneer touched his nose and mouth.

Jonah turned to his officer. “Piper okay?”

“Yeah. She’d left for the day.”

It was probably one more in their string of burglaries, but he didn’t like that the thief broke in. “Find out how much cash she had on hand.”

Newly nodded. “Will do.”

Natalie pulled the head and neck out of the clay like a primordial birthing. Groaning, she shaped the features, eyes, forehead, nose, and mouth. Tears streamed as she prepared to make the scars.

A noise broke her concentration. The chief at the front door?

Swallowing hard, she wiped her hands and went through to the gallery. She was halfway to the locked front door when it opened. Carolyn had asked her if she saw things that weren’t real. Now she believed she might. In the dusky shadows, a winged man pushed inside, hooded and cloaked. He headed for the statue of Trevor and Cody, the way he moved and the crowbar he’d used to pry open the door conveying his intention.

She changed course between two sculptures, rushing toward him as he raised the crowbar. “Stop. What are you doing?”

He jerked around. She froze. The scars. The desolation. The rage.

She spun back toward the studio, his trapped image filling her vision as he rushed up from behind. Running, she gripped one sculpture platform,
then another, when something hard and sharp struck the top of her head. Pieces of her waterfall fell about her as she collapsed, the whimsical spiral being the last thing to fade.

Jonah jolted as a batlike figure thrust up from the gallery floor and fled toward the studio in the back. After wrenching the damaged door open, Jonah rushed in and dropped to Natalie, bleeding on the floor. He found a thready pulse and called for emergency assistance.

He searched for something to stanch the blood and found a cloth on the podium shelf. He grabbed it and held it to the laceration on her scalp, applying pressure until EMTs Scott and Noreen arrived, lights whirling, sirens crying. It was much too late, but Jonah pushed out through the studio and scoured the surrounding area for the assailant. From the left side of the lot, Trevor MacDaniel approached with a toddler in his arms and a stunned and darkening expression.

“What happened?” His voice was harsh.

“Someone struck her. He fled when I got here.”

“Is she—”

“EMTs are with her.”

The toddler clung to Trevor’s neck with one arm, the other sleeve empty. The child he rescued from the mountain lion must be Natalie’s nephew.

Trevor’s jaw rippled. He clearly wanted to go inside, but the little guy was not letting go. “Chopper?”

“That’s my guess.”

Trevor cupped his hand around the nape of the boy’s neck and told him, “Auntie Nattie’s okay.” He looked over and said, “We need to talk.”

With everything in him, Trevor controlled his shock and fear. Seeing the fire truck as he pulled in had pumped him with adrenaline. He’d have charged inside, if not for Cody. He sucked a deep breath and carried the child into his office.

He’d been gone less than an hour. The chief was supposed to have been
there. Instead, Natalie was alone, and she’d been hurt, critically, if the man’s face told him anything. The stone in his stomach grew. He set Cody down.

“Auntie Nattie?”

“Some people are helping her, Cody. But guess what? Your dad’s coming.” He had called Aaron when he left the studio, and given the urgency, Aaron chartered a plane. That urgency had now multiplied. Trevor took out his phone and texted him. Aaron might not get it until he landed, but he wouldn’t come in blind.

Whit came in through the back. “What’s going on? Chopper’s coming in.”

Trevor crouched beside Cody. “Remember that helicopter that flew you to the hospital? It’s going to give your auntie a ride.” He looked over his shoulder at Whit’s stunned face. “Can you wait with Cody while I—” But Cody dove at him. He wasn’t settling for someone else. “Okay. All right. I’ll stay.”

He lifted him back into his arms. “Hey. No crying. Everything’s okay.” It was so far from okay the words almost strangled him. “It’s going to be okay.”

Whit eyed him. “Want me to go next door?”

“Yes. Absolutely.” At least he’d know.

“Two attacks in two days, Trevor.”

“It’s worse than that. But we’ll talk later.”

When the door slammed behind Whit, Cody pressed into his chest. Holding the sweaty little boy brought back painful memories. Ellis had been a sober kind of baby. When he did laugh, it was better than coming in first.

Cody raised his face. “Daddy’s coming?”

“Yep.” He squeezed Cody’s arm.

“Mommy’s coming?”

“I don’t know. Have to wait and see.” He had a real tenderness for this kid, but not being there with Natalie felt like claws sunk deep.

Cody stuck his fingers into the weave of Trevor’s sweater. “I’m hungry.”

He had intended to take them out to dinner. That opened a fresh wound. “How about some gorp?”

Cody had laughed at the funny name the first time he heard it, but now he just stuck his little fingers into the sweater, sinking and tugging, wringing comfort from the texture.

Tucking Cody’s head tighter into the crook of his shoulder, he went into the darkened store. He stroked the fine, soft curls. Until Aaron came, he was all Cody had.

He poured the trail mix onto the desk and settled Cody in the chair.

“That bad lion hurt Aunt Nattie?”

“No, Cody. That lion’s gone.” Another predator took its place.

“Will her arm fall off?”

“She’s going to be fine.”

Cody stayed focused on the trail mix when Whit came in, a good thing, as Whit’s expression wasn’t.

“She’s in and out,” he said under his breath. “They’re concerned about pressure and bleeding in her brain.”

A surge of guilt and sorrow. “I was gone forty-eight minutes. How could he get to her—”