The Ties That Bind (39 page)

"Something's happening," Sage said as she leaned over me. "That's Monroe."

I turned my head. Clint Monroe was indeed standing on Nestor's front porch. He lit a cigarette, and it reminded me of a cheesy crime drama because he looked so furtive doing it. He took a drag, tapping his other hand, all nervous, against his thigh. Surano appeared in the doorway behind him, his frame almost filled it. Monroe looked at him and nodded and Surano disappeared again, leaving Monroe smoking on the porch. Less than a minute later, Surano appeared with Nestor, the latter's left arm over Surano's right shoulder. Nestor sagged against Surano, his head hanging. I couldn't see his face, thus. Only the top of his head. Surano moved awkwardly, favoring his left arm, and maneuvered Nestor to the porch steps.

"What the fuck? What are they doing?" I leaned forward even more, but Monroe's truck blocked my view though I could tell that Surano was half-dragging Nestor down the front porch steps.

"Looks like they're putting Nestor in the truck," Sage responded. And indeed, Monroe tossed his cigarette onto the ground and went to the driver's side of his truck. He opened the door and leaned in, pulling on something, from his body language. I guessed it was Nestor he was helping haul into the cab. Satisfied, Monroe climbed in and shut the door and Surano did the same on the passenger side. I heard the truck start and Monroe backed it up.

"Get down," I commanded, slipping down in my seat and leaning across the car toward her. She did the same, leaning toward me, and I held my breath, hoping that Surano wasn't sitting high enough to look down over the dashboard of the car and see us trying to hide. Monroe's truck rumbled past and Sage started to sit up but I threw my arm over her, preventing it. "Hold on." I counted to twenty, let go of her, and we both sat up.

"Okay, now what?" I asked, buckling up and starting the car.

"I'm going to call Simmons again."

I started driving, my thoughts going a mile a minute. My gut told me that Monroe and Surano were up to No Good, and that they were going to perpetrate No Good on Nestor, if they hadn't already, given how Surano had brought him out of his house. If something was wrong with Nestor--and that's how it looked--were Monroe and Surano just taking him to a doctor?
Sure, Kase. That's what they're doing. They stopped in to have a cup of coffee, Nestor wasn't feeling well, and now they're taking him to a doctor. Without his wheelchair.
I stopped at the highway, not sure which direction to go. And monkeys are going to fly out of my butt.

I turned right on 491, north toward Shiprock, not sure why, but something in my gut was telling me to do it. Sage was leaving a message for Simmons, saying she wasn't sure where the bad guys were headed, but we'd try to find out and call her back. I arrived at the junction of 491 and 64 and turned left onto 64, headed west toward Arizona.

Sage had hung up and sat staring out the windshield. She checked her phone. "River hasn't called back. Dammit. I hate when he does this." She speed-dialed him, but got his voicemail, from her tone. "Hey, it's us. Something's freaky here. I already called Simmons and I'm waiting for her to call back. Monroe and a guy we think is Jimmy Surano took Nestor somewhere in Monroe's truck. I think maybe they might be trying to scare him like they did Dad. We're going to see if we can figure out where they went and I'll call Simmons and let her know if she doesn't call first, so don't worry. We're not playing sheriff here, so you don't have to, either." She hung up again. "What do you think?" she asked me.

"I don't know," I said, meaning it. I slowed and turned left onto the dirt road that would take us to where Tom Manyhorses had found Bill. I stopped the car. "Do you think they'd take Nestor to that wash?"

"Yes." The conviction in her voice was absolute.

I nodded. "Call Simmons and tell her that."

"I did tell her."

I looked over at her. Of course she had. I licked my lips, nervous, and gazed down the road, at
Tse Bi dahi
, its dark jagged surface foreboding, even in the soft evening light. On either side of us, swaths of desert held in place by grasses, cactus, and sagebrush stretched for miles, broken by distant buttes and arroyos, interrupted briefly by a house or two. "Okay." I took my foot off the brake. Sage squeezed my thigh, a comforting gesture, and we headed south, toward the wash.

After what seemed like an hour though it was only fifteen minutes, I stopped the car where the road ended and melted into the two-tire track to the wash. No way was I taking a rental car down there. Besides, the undercarriage's clearance wasn't high enough to traverse some of the ruts. We both got out and studied the track. Hard-packed earth, for the most part, but a couple of spots a few feet away from us were softer, probably from the seasonal monsoon rainstorms. In these spots--deep ruts--water was slower to evaporate and slow to sink into saturated earth.

I studied these ruts, noting that the soil therein was more like mud, with a surface latticework of cracks that mud gets when it's drying. Anybody driving to the wash would have to come into contact with one or both of these ruts and that would leave either a partial or complete tire tread or the mud would be disturbed. I looked over at Sage. Monroe and Surano hadn't brought Nestor here.

"Not yet," she said aloud.

"You think they're still planning to bring him here?"

"It makes sense." She took a few steps farther down the track.

"Sage."

She stopped and turned toward me.

"Don't." I beckoned her back to the car, not sure why I felt so strongly that she needed to get the hell off that track and back into the car. To my relief, she complied and opened the passenger car door. I reached for the handle of the driver's side door, opened it, and froze, staring down the track toward the wash. Encroaching dusk didn't hide the figure that stood a few hundred yards distant.
What the hell?

"Get in the car," came Sage's voice.

"But there's somebody there," I said, straining to make out the figure's relevant features though every hair on the back of my neck was trying to jump out of my skin and a Very Bad Feeling had infiltrated my brain. The figure looked human, and it seemed to be wearing a light-colored shirt and dark pants. I relaxed, but the hair on my neck didn't. Just a local rancher, I tried to convince myself and the hair on my neck. Out looking for cows. Didn't Tom Manyhorses say that he'd found some cows down at that wash?
Of course, they'd been killed...

"K.C., get in the goddamn car
now
."

The figure moved, dropped into a crouch, and seemed to dart to its left, off the track. I saw it do that. I saw it jump off the track and then...it disappeared.
Holy Mary, Mother of God.

"K.C., now!"

I threw myself into the driver's seat, slamming the door and ramming the car into reverse at about the same time. The back tires caught in the softer dirt beyond the surface of the road we'd come in on and spun, kicking up rocks and adding fuel to the Very Bad Feeling. "Fuck!" I eased up on the accelerator, stomped the brake, and shifted into a lower gear.

"Lock the doors," Sage ordered, and though she wasn't shouting, the tone of her voice carried far more warning than if she had. I reached for the buttons on the armrest of the door and clicked one of them, automatically locking both doors just as something landed on the roof of the car. A heavy, meaty thunk. Like a body.

"Jesus fucking Christ," I swore, and a surge of adrenaline blocked any rational thought I may have had as I gunned the engine and spun out of the soft spot, fishtailing to the left then the right as all the car's tires gained purchase on the main dirt road and shot forward. Sage's fingertips were embedded in my leg and she was saying something that I didn't understand and in the rearview mirror, a figure stood in the middle of the road, getting smaller as we gained speed and put more distance between us. "Oh, my God, oh, my God, holy shit, oh, my God," I said over and over, matching the cadence of whatever Sage was saying as we sped toward the main highway, my teeth rattling in my skull as the car's tires skipped across the washboarding.

And then things went from bad to worse. Or maybe, more appropriately, worse to bad. Regardless, our situation had not improved. The vehicle approaching us in the growing darkness was Clint Monroe's truck.

"Keep driving," Sage said, assessing the situation. "But slow down. "

And act natural. Freaky shit notwithstanding
. I eased up on the accelerator and turned my headlights on.
Acting natural. That's me
. "Can you see who's in the truck?" I kept my eyes on the road, white-knuckling the steering wheel, thinking I needed either to cry or throw up.

The truck passed and I forced myself not to look at it, not to give Monroe any reason to think that he'd seen us earlier. Please don't slow down, I silently begged. He didn't. I saw his tailgate recede in my rearview mirror.

"All three." Sage pulled her phone out of her pocket and flipped it open. "Shit. I don't get service out here."

"Me neither." I still held the steering wheel like I was going to choke it to death.

Sage squeezed my thigh. "Just keep going back to Shiprock. We'll be all right."

I nodded and fought another urge to cry. Another pair of headlights appeared, again from the highway. What was up with all the traffic?

Sage leaned forward, peering intently out the windshield. "I don't fucking believe it." She started laughing, and her relief washed over me, too. "Honey, stop the car. It's River."

"Are you sure?" I was not thrilled to stop out here, after what had happened with the weird figure on the track to the wash. And what the hell was River doing out here, anyway?

"Positive."

I took my foot off the gas pedal and braked. Before I had the car in "park" Sage was out of the car waving her arms and I exhaled, letting myself sag in my seat for a few seconds as River's familiar truck also stopped, next to ours. The way we'd parked, we pretty much took up the whole road. Well, so? Not like anybody else was going to show up. I hoped. River got out and I did the same.

"Dude, are we glad to see you," I said, walking toward him.

"Same here." He grabbed Sage in a fierce hug then released her, turning to me and giving me a quick squeeze. "Had a bad feeling. Kara did, too." He gestured with his chin at the cab of his truck and Kara took that as a signal to get out and join us. I hugged her before she could start ragging on me for anything. It must have surprised her because she didn't say anything.

"After Sage called from Purcell's, I just had a feeling something was fucked up. So what's the update?" River took his baseball cap off and ran his hand through his hair before replacing it on his head.

"Weird shit at the wash--" I started then remembered the roof of the car.
Oh, hell.
I glanced over at Sage to take over, since I wasn't sure what I'd say.
"Oh, and this skinwalker showed up and jumped onto the car and then we had to bail like bats out of hell..."
Sage could handle this conversation better than I could. Skinwalker. Was that what it was? I glared at the car. What else could it have been? I inspected the roof, looking for dents and scratches, wondering where to file "supernatural occurrences" in my logical, rational world. I ran my hands over the roof. Even in full dusk, enough light remained that I could see pretty well, but I checked with my fingers as well. I stepped back, staring at the roof. Nothing. Not a mark, no dents. Everything as it should be. "What the fuck?" I muttered.

"K.C." Sage's voice broke my ruminations.

I turned away from the car, frustrated and puzzled. "Yeah?"

"I'm going to call Simmons on Kara's cell. Hers gets a signal out here. We're about a mile from the highway and River thinks we should stay here and wait for her."

"Are you sure? Maybe we should go to the highway and just wait near the turn-off." The thought of hanging out here in the darkness with--well, with whatever that was--and Monroe and Surano appealed to me about as much as running naked and blindfolded through the desert did.
And maybe we should just buy two one-way tickets to some unknown island in the South Pacific, where skinwalkers weren't part of the indigenous traditions.

Sage seemed to consider my suggestion for a few seconds. "Let me call Simmons first before we do anything."

The rest of us nodded and waited while Sage dialed Simmons' number. Please pick up, I concentrated, trying to will Detective Maria Simmons to--just this once--answer a phone that registered a number she might not know.

"Hello? Detective Simmons? We've got a situation."

I took a deep breath, and every muscle in my body relaxed. I turned back toward the wash, toward
Tse Bi Dahi
, now just a darker outline against nightfall.

"So you had a weird experience out there." Kara's voice, near my right shoulder.

"Something like that. I don't want to talk about it for a while. And definitely not right now."
Don't want to call the damn thing over here.
I chewed my lip.
Christ. Just like a believer, to think that.

"I'm sorry," Kara said.

"For what?" I didn't turn to her, instead kept my attention focused south. Would I be able to see a skinwalker if it moved? Would it use the road?

"For acting like that about Shoshana and Jamison."

"I'd probably do the same thing." What was that? I strained my eyes, trying to pick out different shapes in what little light remained. "Kind of rude, for your sister to diss your new girlfriend's uncle, after all." My eyes were woefully human, seeing things that moved when there probably weren't things moving at all. Maybe I was having a bad dream. A two-week nightmare. I wanted to go home, call some Navajo healer to do a ceremony, and get on with my life. Or at least wake up from this giant freak-out.

"You didn't. And I just wanted to tell you I was sorry."

I wrenched my attention away from the road and focused on Kara. "Thanks." I managed a smile. "Now please help me convince Sage and River that it's a very bad idea to stay out here."