Tom poured some water into his mouth from the canteen, rinsed and spat. He had spoiled the crime scene, he supposed. “Let’s go.” He was better after emptying his stomach, but the place was getting to him. Even in the heat, chills were running on his spine. He felt like he was being watched, though they had to be the only souls for miles.
“Head back to the truck; I want to look around more.” Doug walked behind the formation.
Looking for my tracks I suppose, thought Tom. He couldn’t stay. He walked down the hill and felt better with every step. He reached the truck in a quarter of the time it had taken them to climb the hill. He leaned against the truck and watched Doug check different viewpoints from the rock formation.
Doug pulled the binoculars out and seemed to be looking at something in the brush past the altar. He made his way down the rocks, walked past the altar a few hundred feet and then dug in the soil with his boot heel. It looked like he pulled a rope or chain from the ground and put it into an evidence bag.
Susan hung up the phone. Uncle was sending someone for the truck and Ash’s body. They would prepare his body and bring her a new vehicle that would, according to records, be the car she had owned for several years now and it would have no trace of her brother. This would be handy in case the FBI stopped by asking questions. Uncle was upset. Fuck, they were all upset. In all the hundreds of years of sacrifice, this was the first time a member of the group had been executed. There had been others that had blundered onto the ceremony, but those unfortunates had always become participants, so to speak. They had no lookouts on the west side. They had arrived late at the site and Ash wanted the ceremony to start. He felt they were safe, as far out as they were, and with sunset imminent they needed to begin. He believed they would hear anyone approaching from a long way off. So much for that theory.
Uncle would put someone onto the shit kicker that murdered Ash. He promised that when he knew more, he would call. The group would have a meeting, and then perhaps in six months or so—winter solstice being ideal—they would get to meet the bastard. Susan clenched her jaw. She had no tears for Ash. He was unlovable. But he had always been there: cold, immovable, untouchable, like a fortress. She couldn’t believe he was dead. She threw herself on her bed and fell asleep, dreaming of killing the cowboy.
Cami watched from the window as Tom and Doug talked in the truck. Good God! They’d been together all morning, what could they be talking about now? Doug handed something to Tom and he quickly put it in his pocket. Tom nodded and said something to Doug and then he got out of the truck, his holster in his hand. They shook hands and Doug drove off. Tom walked quickly to the house. Cami saw right away how pale he was.
“Hi, sweetie.” He kissed her.
“Hi. Are you okay?”
But he didn’t get to answer, as Landon spied him and ran up and hugged his legs. “DA!”
Tom laughed and scooped him up, holding him clear to the ceiling. “Hi! How’s my boy?”
Landon squealed and they laughed.
Tom handed him to Cami. “Stay here with Mommy, Daddy will be right back.”
He headed to the back porch and she heard him going down to the basement. To the gun safe maybe? In a few minutes she heard him bounding up the stairs again. Landon pulled her hair. “Ouch! No. Don’t pull Mommy’s hair!” She gave his hand a little slap, and he turned away from her and reached for Tom.
“DA!”
“What’s the matter? Is Mommy mean to you?” He smiled as he took Landon from Cami. “Where are the girls?”
“They’re out with Cheyenne. They were hoping we could go out for a ride today.”
Tom sighed. “My ass is dragging. Why don’t you go out with the girls and us boys will stay here and have a beer and a nap?” He nuzzled Landon with his stubbled cheek and the baby giggled.
The thought of getting out of the house was appealing. Riding down to the creek, splashing around and maybe a nice gallop in the pasture—“It’s a deal; shall I make you some lunch before I go?”
Tom thought about his breakfast that he left on the mountain. “No, I’m not hungry. I think I’m going to have a nice, cold beer and then Landon and I are going to take a nap over on that couch that’s calling my name.” He swung Landon up to the ceiling again and they both laughed.
“Okay. We’ll be down by the creek.”
“Be careful,” he called after her.
Chapter 5
Tom slept. The empty bottle sat next to him on the coffee table. Landon played at the foot of the couch. Farley cocked his head and padded out of the room to the back porch. He peered down the basement steps over the baby gate. His hackles slowly rose and he began a low growl.
Landon heard the noise and toddled up and towards it. Farley did not turn to look at him, but began to bark and growl fiercely. Landon tried to approach the doorway, but Farley swung his butt around and gently knocked him down. Landon put his hands over his ears and cried loudly.
Tom and Farley were backed into a corner of a cave. Farley was barking like crazy and Tom had no weapon. He wanted out badly, but to get out meant they had to fight their way out. And it was so dangerous. Impossible really. Daunting. Then he heard Landon cry. They had him. Out there on an altar! He and Farley jumped forward—
This time Tom was standing on the couch, the beer bottle’s neck in his hand like a weapon, his muscles tensed. Landon was crying and Farley was barking. He ran to the back porch and scooped up Landon. “Farley!” But Farley only paused his barking for a second as he glanced at Tom, acknowledging him. The dog was scared, but determinedly barking, warning something in the basement that this was his turf. Tom unlatched the baby gate, but Farley did not take one step down. Farley could have leapt it easily, but evidently he did not want to go down the stairs. Tom knew he could only have slept ten or twenty minutes—there was nothing in the basement, or at least no one. Now he could hear a low, rumbling noise down there. It reminded him of how the washing machine sounded when the clothes became unbalanced. He knelt by Farley. “Farley!” This time the dog stopped, but his hackles were still up. He whined. Tom didn’t want to take Landon down to the basement, but he didn’t trust leaving him by the dog when the dog was so upset. They would all go down together and just far enough to peek and see what was up.
When Farley saw Tom going down the steps, he protectively moved a stair ahead of him and began his low growling again. Tom held Landon, his little bare chest pressed tight against his own bare chest. They had to go nearly to the bottom before they could see around the corner. The basement was dim even in the middle of the day with the fluorescents on. Cami really hated it down here. It was claustrophobic for her, but it had never really bothered him. There were two windows that let in trickles of light on opposite sides of the room. It was a firetrap, he supposed, but this old farmhouse had been built before there were building codes. Tom bent down and peered around the stairwell.
It was the gun safe. It was rattling. Sometimes, it actually would come off the floor a few inches—tipping forward and back and side to side. It was almost six feet tall and had to weigh about four hundred pounds, plus all the stuff inside. Tom’s heart pounded as he ran up the stairs. Farley shot up the stairway behind him and then turned in the doorway to bark again.
Tom paced back and forth in the kitchen. Dealing with a bad person or a snake or a crazed animal was one thing, but dealing with an entity … well, less than twenty-four hours ago he hadn’t believed there was a devil.
Landon was scared too, his little arms laced about Tom’s neck as if they were in deep water. He sniffed, his tiny lip jutting out.
He had to get that thing out of the house—off their property in fact—and he wanted to do it before Cami and the girls got back. This would be hard to do with a baby around his neck.
He went to Landon’s room and put him in the crib. “Daddy will be right back. We’re going for a ride.” Landon stood watching him, his hands around the crib rails.
“Farley!” The dog tr
otted in and stared at Tom. Tom pointed at the floor beside the crib. “Stay!” Farley instantly obeyed but the way the dog looked at him, Tom could tell he didn’t like his orders. Tom shut the door behind him.
He went to the bedroom, threw on a shirt and got the shotgun from above the doorway. There were always two shells in the magazine, but he double-checked. As he went down the steps the rumbling got worse and the fluorescents began to dim and blink. When he reached the foot of the stairs they went out. It was okay, he could see well enough. He didn’t expect to shoot anything, but the gun made him feel prepared anyway. It was the middle of June and one of the longest days of the year, but the atmosphere was icy down here. He could see his breath. Every hair on the back of his neck prickled and he had goose bumps. The gun safe rocked like mad as he approached. He had to be careful. He didn’t want it falling on him. When he was almost in front of it, the ruckus stopped. This made him tense up worse. He stood as far from it as he could and reached for the dial. He thought his fingers might stick to the metal it was so cold, but he moved the dial easily and picked out the combination. He would need two hands now. He put his toe against the door and the shotgun strap over his shoulder. One hand he put on the frame of the gun safe and the other on the handle. He exhaled and slowly, inch by inch, opened the door. He didn’t know what he had been expecting. A real live devil? An explosion? A monster? The necklace was still in the bag, in the same spot he had left it. He picked up the corner of the bag and locked the safe. He grabbed an old coffee can he had been saving to store screws in and bounded up the stairs. The lights blinked on when he was halfway up. He tore out the back door, hopped the fence and put the necklace into the coffee can and snapped the plastic lid on. He threw the can in the back of his pickup. He saw that he already had a shovel in there.
He ran back into the house. Landon and Farley were both quiet and watching for him when he opened the door. “Hey guys, let’s go!” Landon smiled and reached for him, and Farley was already waiting by the front door before he turned around.
Outside, Farley jumped into the back of the truck and then jumped out as if there was a snake in it. As Tom got closer, he heard the can rattling back and forth and hitting the sides of the truck. He and Landon watched it roll, rattle and bang around the truck bed. “Holy shit,” Tom breathed.
“Shit,” Landon parroted back. “Dat?”
“I don’t know, son.” He didn’t want that thing jumping out of the truck and getting lost and staying on his land. He put Landon in the front of the truck and then looked for something heavy to put on the can. The only thing nearby was an old wheelbarrow. He moved it close to the truck, but it was a heavy, old bitch and he would need to open the tailgate. He waited until the can was towards the front of the truck bed, dropped the tailgate and tried to load the wheelbarrow. He almost made it. Just when he tipped the barrow over to cover the can, it rolled past him like a shot and off into the driveway. Farley chased it, barking, and when he stopped it with his paws he gave a yelp of pain and jumped away. He barked furiously and followed it. Tom ran after it. It rolled blindly against a tree. He picked it up and peered through the clear plastic lid. The necklace flip-flopped like a Mexican jumping bean. He heard what sounded like a crack of lightning and looked up. A branch forty feet up was coming down. He tumbled left and it landed where he had been. There wasn’t much time for conjecture. He ran to the truck and stuck the can under the wheelbarrow. He put the gun in the backseat and he and Farley jumped in. Tom headed for the back of the ranch to Bureau of Land Management ground. “Come here, Landon.” He wasn’t going to mess with a car seat now. Tom held him close with his right arm and drove out as slowly as he could manage. In the back, the can rattled under the wheelbarrow.
Chapter 6
“Ash’s totem is not on him. Do you have it?” Uncle’s tone was icy.
Susan tightened her grip on the receiver and said nothing. Another screwup. They had all been so freaked out after the shooting. It was all they could do to find a tarp to wrap Ash in and load his tall and heavy body on the four-wheeler. They had doubled him up into the fetal position to fit him on the motorcycle. The necklace might have come off at any time.
“I see,” Uncle said. “We’ll check your truck for it. You must try to find it. If it is found, it could be traced to us. You know—as did your brother—how important these emblems are. That is why we have them checked structurally once a year by our jeweler. The protection and power they give—”
“It didn’t fucking protect Ash very well!” Susan instantly regretted the comment. Her stomach curled as she listened to the silence on the other side.
“Susan.” He spoke slowly. “I understand you are in shock. We all are. However … we will need to select a new leader for the group. We need someone who is capable, intelligent and prudent. If there is no one in our group, we will select from the outside.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but there was only dial tone. “Bastard,” she whispered. She had not imagined they would choose anyone but her to head the group.
She walked to the living room and stared out the huge window that looked down on the golf course. It was nearly dark; she had slept the day away exhausted. The golfers would show up in force now that the burning Vegas sun had set. The course lights winked on. Susan turned to head for the shower and caught her reflection in the mirror. Her beautiful face was tensed with concentration, tiny lines furrowed her brow. She pulled the heavy chain round her neck out from her blouse and looked at the emblem.
A goat with glaring ruby eyes, on an upside down diamond cross wound with an emerald-eyed serpent. It was a gaudy design and heavy—she hated it. She did not really know if it gave her power or protection; all she knew was that she always wore it. Felt naked without it. In fact, she became ill when she took it off. When the jeweler examined it every year she had to stand next to him and watch. The jeweler was a short, little man who always wore a smirk on his face and never spoke to her. He was not bothered by her standing there, and she suspected that perhaps all the members did the same. Ash had. He had told her the emblem had grown to be a part of him and that the longer she wore it the more painful and sickening it would become to remove it. “Uncle makes the jeweler examine it round his neck. I don’t know how they would repair it if it came to that.”
Ash had worn the necklace for five years longer than her and had not removed it, except for the jeweler, in ten. Susan hated being forced to do anything, but found it easier to submit to the chain than go about with a tension headache and feeling nauseated.
Ash’s chain must be at the site where he died. She felt sure of it. But it wasn’t as simple as going back to find it. The cowboy could have told the cops, and if they were worth anything, they would have at least investigated the scene. In her mind, rural, western cops were kind of like Deputy Dawg. Underpaid, overworked and mostly unable to find anything better, they posed no more of a threat to her than a crossing guard. But for now, the best thing would be to wait a couple of weeks. If the cops found the necklace, it would probably happen before she could get back anyway. Susan needed time to think. The cowboy had rocked her world. She had seen him for only a couple of seconds but memorized his appearance. He had deep blue eyes in a tanned face, dark hair and a strong cleft chin. His expression chilled her. It was not hatred, but fearlessness. He looked so determined that she’d thought he was going to kill them all. She would have to be very careful in her approach of this man. She left the mirror and headed to the shower, her mind turning over the cowboy and his demise.
Tom buried the coffee can about three feet down on BLM ground. He heard the necklace hopping in the can as he buried it, but the sound grew fainter as he covered it, and as he put the last shovelful on and smacked the earth flat, there was silence. Landon and Farley stood next to him watching, and now Landon wrapped his arms around Tom’s legs. “Mommy?”
“Yes, let’s go find Mommy and your sisters.” He picked Landon up, and with his boot slid a flat stone over the
can’s resting place. He was pretty sure he would remember the spot, since his tracks would show up in the brush for a while, but the stone would make it even easier.
He loaded the shovel in the truck and they drove for home. Tom had taken the necklace onto BLM land about two miles from his property. He would have preferred ten miles, but he didn’t have the time. Besides, Doug might want that thing back someday, and now it would be easy for Tom to find, but far enough away.
He felt better with that thing buried. He hoped that he was on the way to putting this nightmare behind him.
The necklace, deep in the dark of the can, was motionless. The hatred and darkness it radiated was still there though. Before Tom’s truck was out of sight, a rattler slithered around the stone and pressed against it, enjoying the bit of shade it cast.
Chapter 7
Though most of the world knew him as Richard Taylor, anyone who came to know him or worked for him for a few months referred to him as Uncle, but only his closest associates and relatives would call him Uncle to his face. His crazy-tall stature, his intense, eagle gaze, and his intuitive nature made the name stick. He sat in his office, elbows on the arms of his chair, hands together, his eyes fixed on a blank spot on the wall. The room was dark and everything in it was dark. The walnut paneling, the mahogany carpeting, the black leather furniture and even the African masks that decorated the walls bore no light tones. The only light-colored items in the room were his white shirt and some papers on his desk. At last, he moved, and pressed a button on his desk. In a few seconds one of his men came in, but only a few steps into the room. It was a cave. “Yes, sir?”
The Sacrifice Page 3