The Bone Man (25 page)

Back beside the deputy, I searched for her wounds. Her jacket was matted with blood, and so was her shirt. I opened her shirt, saw a gaping wound that oozed blood. I was no nurse, no doctor. I knew so little.

I got some towels and a glass of water and a cloth. I packed the wound with the towels, hoping they’d stop the bleeding. Then I lifted her onto my lap again, and held the glass of water to her lips. “C’mon, try to sip.”

She didn’t move. Her mouth was partially open, so I moistened the cloth and dabbed her lips. Then I squeezed out some water onto her tongue.

That sound of her labored breathing. Terrible.

I put my lips close to her ear. “I’m not going to leave you, but I have to go outside and try to make a cell call. We haven’t any reception in here. Okay?”

Silence.

Outside, I again flipped open the phone. I had no bars, nothing, no service. Damn.

She was dying, and I was doing nothing.

I ran back inside and raced into the library. The closet door was closed. I flung it open, and there was Niall’s computer all ready to be fired up, which is exactly what I did.

Took forever, and I thought I would scream until the thing was finally ready to roll. Once I had a screen, I clicked on the e-mail program. Of course, I didn’t know anyone’s e-mail out here. Swell. What was I thinking?

I went on the Web, signed on to my e-mail, and wrote to Gert and Kranak and Hank. I typed like blazes, explaining everything, told them exactly where I was, and all about the deputy. I told them to call both Grants, the deputy’s home base, and Thoreau, which was closer to the lodge. I told them to hurry. I hit Send.

I prayed Hank had brought his BlackBerry with him. Then he’d get my e-mail.

Next I tried for Grants’s and Gallup’s police departments, and I came up empty. Now what?

State police. Of course. I found the New Mexico State Police online, e-mailed them in their online form, and prayed something, anything would work and help the deputy.

I sat back in the chair. This was bad, really bad. I closed my eyes, rubbed them. I’d better get back to Louise. I didn’t want her to feel alone. But as I stood, I saw a shadow, just a flicker, cross the library door in the hall.

Damn. I didn’t need that. Not now. I had the pepper spray, which had one hell of a reach. I wanted more. I padded out of the library and down the hall to the
kitchen. Right where I remembered them were Niall’s kitchen knives. His chef’s knives clung to a magnetized board screwed to the wall. As I grabbed one of the large ones, I said a silent prayer of thanks. I swallowed. To stab someone took nerve I wasn’t sure I had.

Of course I did. Absolutely. Oh, boy.

Back in the hall, I pressed my back to the wall and slid toward the living room and the deputy. It was me and nobody else. Even if my message got through to Gert or Kranak or the state police, the drive here was a good twenty to thirty minutes.

I was on my own.

One, two, three. I pivoted into the arch that framed the living area. I saw nothing. Heard only the deputy’s shallow liquid breathing. I swallowed, almost coughed. My throat was dry with fear.

Again I tried to peer into every shadowy corner of the room. I then went over to the deputy. I was so glad she was still alive. I made sure to put my back against the wall.

We could wait. I couldn’t help her any further. I didn’t know what to do. And if some guy was playing hide-and-seek with me, he’d have my pepper spray and knife to deal with.

Keeping my eyes on the room, I sat beside her and leaned forward. “Help is coming. They’re on their way. Please hang on.”

Her right hand twitched, and then slowly squeezed into a fist with the index finger pointing to the closet door.

“Thank you,” I whispered in her ear. “No worries. I’ll take care of you.”

All I had to do was keep my eye on the door and the pepper spray ready. Hell, the thing could spray more than thirty feet.

I moved to my knees, feet planted beneath me, toes bent so I could spring up at the ready.

A chuckle came from the hall, then a crunch. I pivoted in time to see a sawed-off shotgun pointed at my face.

A pinup-handsome man cocked the trigger. “Put that crap down, babe.”

“Don’t call me babe, asshole,” I said as I stood. “And if I put them down, you’re going to blast me with that thing.”

He whistled. “Oh, you are
so
wrong. We don’t want to kill you or mess up that pretty face. Boss wants you. You saw the note.”

I raised the pepper spray. “What note?”

He dropped the barrel of the gun, so it pointed at the deputy’s face. “C’mon now. Play nice. She’s not dead yet, but she will be if you don’t behave. Drop them.”

I glanced at the deputy. I’d swear she twitched her head “no.”

“Do it nice now,” he said.

I bent over and placed the pepper spray and knife on the floor. “Fine,” I said. “Let’s go.”

The blast jerked me around. But I wasn’t hit.
Dear God!
No, the deputy’s face was now a mass of fleshy pulp. No sound. No nothing. She was dead, of course.

I drew in a sob.
I’m so sorry!

The monster reached for my arm. “We go.”

I dropped to my knees, pretended to retch, scrabbled for the pepper spray. “You bastard!” I twirled on him, pressing the nozzle hard. Of course I missed him, and he leaned in to grab my arm, his face masked in fury.

I drew my knee up and got him in the balls.

He doubled over, but he clung to the gun. I reached for it, and he slammed the barrel against the side of my head.

Pain knifed from my ear into my brain. I fell to my knees, gasping.

“You little bitch!”

Kaboom!

I looked for another shooting pain, knowing the shot
was for me, that my face or arm or leg would be pulp, too, just like the deputy’s.

I bent over, crouching on the floor, left arm holding me up, barely. I squeezed my eyes tight.

A thunderous noise and clattering.

“Open ’em,” said the voice.

Did I know that voice? But . . .

I pried my eyes open and gasped. The handsome monster was missing the left side of his face. His mouth was open in a silent scream as blood dripped down his forehead and into his open mouth.

That time, I really did puke.

Minutes later, someone yanked me to my feet. I fisted my left hand and swung. A quick hand stopped my punch.

“Cut it out, Tally!”

I shook my head, cleared my eyes, peered up into the face of . . . “Aric?”

“Come on.” He pulled me to my feet. “We’ve got to get going.”

“What about the deputy?”

“She rests now. She’s gone. We can’t help her.”

“No.” I sighed. “One sec.” I ran back to her and kneeled.
I’m so sorry. I won’t forget your gift of my life. I wish . . .

“Hurry up, Tally.”

I scooped up my spray and the knife. “Stop rushing me. I’ve got to check something.”

I ran to the shelf where the pot sat. It looked the same as it had the previous day, a replica of Didi’s sketch of the Anasazi pot—maybe a foot at the base, it bowed out to around eighteen inches with a narrow, six-inch neck. I got this eerie feeling looking at it, and I wondered if anything was inside.

“It’s fake,” Aric said. He was rifling through the dead man’s pockets.

“How can you tell?”

“I just can.”

Cute. I sucked in a breath and plunged my hand inside the pot. Empty. I lifted the Old Ones’ pot and turned it. The red-and-white pot looked authentic to my untrained eyes. I lifted it higher and checked the bottom. Huh. “Hey, Aric. It says made in 2001. Replica of an ancient pot found at Chaco Canyon. You were right.”

“I’m consistent that way.”

In the kitchen, I washed off the deputy’s blood, then followed Aric out the door.

I looked around. “Where’s your truck? Car? Whatever?”

“A couple miles down the road.”

I sat on the bench. “I don’t know. I’m pretty much a wreck. Yesterday—”

“So what? Let’s go.” He shouldered his shotgun and began to walk.

“Wait a minute. I don’t think there are more of them. At least not here. Why don’t we wait for the cops?”

“What? You lost your nerve?”

“You could say that. These pot thieves are sure doing a job on me. I pretty much hate being a target.”

“It’s complicated,” he said. “C’mon, let’s vamoose.”

But I didn’t go. The sun felt good as I sat there. The breeze was warm and comforting, and the scent of the piñon pines soothed me. If we waited for the police, we could hand everything over to them. No more running around. I tilted my head back against the side of the lodge. The sun warmed my face and soothed my soul.

Enough. Delphine and Didi were both gone. They’d understand if I gave everything I knew to the cops and went home. Hank was right. I ached. My face throbbed and my shoulders and thigh and my cheek where I’d been cut.

I lifted my hand. I’d lost the bandage on it somewhere along the line. I traced the scabbed scar on my face. Hank hadn’t said anything about it. Maybe I repulsed him now.

Natalie. The Zuni girl had tried to help me, and look where I’d gotten her. And the deputy. Maybe it was her job
and all, but I didn’t really think so. I’d been suddenly on her agenda, and now she was dead. The old man, too.

These pot thieves were determined to get me. The pursuit, the obsession. I didn’t understand the death in all of it. A skull. A pot. Perhaps an old fetish carving. The blood fetish. I still couldn’t see it.

“Tally.”

I opened my eyes. Aric stood there, angry and tired and . . . different.

“Aric, I don’t think I can go to Chaco. Um, I’ll stay here, wait for the cops. Fill them in and all. Thank you for today, but there’s been too much death. Too much.”

His face boiled with anger. “There’s going to be more if you don’t get your ass in gear.”

I stood so we were face to face. I refused to match his anger. I’d walk away, except I didn’t have the energy for it. “I’m sorry you’re disappointed. Or angry. Or whatever it is you are. I can’t help thinking of Natalie. And now the deputy. I ran away from Hank, and some guy yesterday tried to kill me, and the rabies shots because of Coyote—”

“Don’t.”

I searched his liquid brown eyes. Something. “What am I missing here?”

He backed off, reached into his back pocket, then held up a folded baggie with a paper inside. “This.”

We’ve got Niall and his kid. Come to Chaco, Chetro Ketl grand kiva by sunset or we kill them.

My hands shook as I held it. I stared at the thing, then at Aric. “They wrote it in the deputy’s blood, didn’t they?”

“Yes.”

Aric wasn’t even breathing hard by the time we got to his truck. I, on the other hand, clung to the side by the bed and wheezed.

“It’s the altitude,” he said.

“Maybe. I run at home. I can’t stop thinking about Niall and his daughter. I did this to them.”

He cupped my chin. “You didn’t, Tally. You didn’t do it to the deputy, either. I’ve learned how you think.”

“Is that so?” I kissed his cheek. “Thank you. You’re right. I know that, intellectually. But my gut. Ah, that’s another story. Let’s go.”

I walked around the Land Rover and slid into the passenger side. I didn’t want to talk or to think, not for a few minutes at least. He gunned it, and I was glad I wore my seat belt. We bounced and jounced until we made it to the main road, which was paved.

“I bought you a present.” He pointed to the pickup’s dash. A pink thing the size of a TV remote sat next to Aric’s can of tobacco.

“What is it? Do I look like a pink person to you?”

He laughed. “You don’t know what it is?”

I picked it up with care.
Taser
was written on the side. A
pink
Taser. “Oh, I don’t think so, Aric.”

“Hey, it’s not a gun. I know you won’t carry one of those.” He was grinning.

“You’re awfully pleased with yourself.”

“I got it cheap. They’re trying to dump the pink ones. Guys won’t carry ’em.”

“This girl doesn’t like pink, either. Well, not much. I don’t think so, Aric. Not now, anyway.”

“Whatever. Your choice.”

I nodded. “Good.” I sensed we weren’t done with the subject. “Look, I’ve got to say it.”

“What?”

“The elephant in the room.”

He stuffed some chaw into his cheek. “You’ve lost me.”

“I apologize for leaving the way I did in Gallup. It was all very . . . weird.”

He nodded. “My friend thought so.”

“The woman?”

He powered down the window, spit. “Yeah. Me? You don’t surprise me anymore, Tally Whyte. I take it you knew the, um, strange person who was after you.”

“Um, well . . .” I explained. He snorted, laughed, and shook his head at my recitation.

“So should I expect this Hank to come and kill me?”

“No. He’s not like that.”

“Oh, wow,” he said. “Gee, this Indian’s relieved.”

“Funny. Not. Let’s move on, huh, Aric? See, I don’t get it. Why all the murder and mayhem for a pot and a skull.”

“I can’t say I get it, either.” He spit again out the window.

“You shouldn’t do that. It’s bad for you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,
Ma
.”

“Cute. How long until we get to Chaco?”

He shrugged. “Depends.”

I leaned back, closed my eyes. “C’mon, Aric.”

“Go to sleep. It’ll be a while.”

The rabies shots. I didn’t tell him. I’d have time. I’d make the next one.

I sensed this would be over sooner, rather than later.

A droning in my ear awakened me. What now? A flat tire? A sandstorm? Pirates? I waited, listened. Hank would have been proud of me.

The truck was noisy, but the open window felt good. So did the scents of sage and desert and clean. Hard to get the deputy out of my mind. The radio wasn’t on, so what was the humming?

I forced my eyes to stay closed. Aric. Talking in what I assumed was Zuni. He sounded angry. But whoever he spoke with was in charge. He flipped the phone shut, and I was about to “wake up” when he gave it another voice command.

“Kesh’shi,”
he said, soft and low.