Double Threat

by F. Paul Wilson

  I listen to the town

  I know its heartbeat

  You are part of its heartbeat

  “That’s kind of creepy. In fact it’s a lot creepy.”

  So I’ve been told

  Who do you talk to?

  “All right, you’re making me uncomfortable now.”

  (“Want me to get rid of this tosser?”) said Pard-Statham.

  What does that even mean?

  (“No idea, but tough Brits say it in films. Should I jolly well give him the old heave-ho?”)

  Stop it … please.

  Sorry

  I’m harmless

  just lonely

  Won’t listen anymore

  I’ll go now

  Now she felt bad for him.

  Wait. Why was she assuming him? Why not her?

  “Are you male or female?”

  male

  Thought so.

  “Where will you go?”

  Home

  “Where’s that?”

  Can’t tell

  can I come back sometime?

  Her instincts shouted NO WAY! But she sensed something sweet about him.

  “This is very strange but … yeah, I guess so.”

  Thank you!

  I won’t abuse it

  An odd thought occurred to her.

  “You didn’t happen to be out in the desert Tuesday night, were you?”

  You did not see me there

  Still Statham, Pard said, (“Dig it: He’s not saying he wasn’t there.”)

  Dig it?

  (“You don’t think Jason Statham would say that?”)

  Maybe … if this was 1955.

  Back to the door: “Well, then, what did—?” She broke off.

  I almost said “we!”

  (“Careful!”)

  She cleared her throat. “What did I see?”

  The moon was new

  Hard to see anything

  “You keep track of the phases of the moon?”

  moonrise/moonset important

  if not to be seen

  “But what did I see?”

  I cannot say

  “Does that mean you don’t know or won’t tell me?”

  I cannot say

  I can tell you other things

  I know secrets

  “Like what?”

  Another time

  Tell no one about me

  “Why not?”

  Just don’t

  Can I have my notes back?

  “Yeah. I guess. Sure.”

  Daley gathered them up and slipped them back under the door.

  She heard footsteps on the outside stairs, and then all was silent.

  “What just happened?” she said as she rose to her feet. “And I don’t need a bodyguard anymore.”

  Jason Statham vanished as Pard reverted to his usual look.

  (“I’m not sure. This town becomes stranger by the day.”)

  “Well, you’re the one who insisted on settling here.”

  (“I do not argue the point. Yet despite the escalating strangeness, I still feel very comfortable in Nespodee Springs.”)

  “Well, that makes one of us.” An odd mix of feelings coursed through her. Unsettling to have a stranger hovering at her door, yet never once had she felt threatened. “Do you think that was someone we know?”

  (“Who? Rhys Pendry? Jason Tadhak? No need for them to play games to ‘get acquainted’ with you.”)

  “Creepy Karma Kendrick?”

  (“I sensed a gentleness in our mystery man … and a palpable loneliness. That hardly fits with the tactless lout with all the tattoos.”)

  Daley couldn’t argue. Ah, well …

  “I wonder if he’ll be back.”

  (“I think we can count on that.”)

  Oddly enough, Daley found herself looking forward to another encounter.

  One note had said, I know secrets …

  I’ll bet you do.

  She had a feeling this town was rife with secrets. If she was going to stay here, she wanted in on them.

  SATURDAY—FEBRUARY 28

  1

  Early on Saturday she checked the light over the back door to see what bulb she’d need to replace it and discovered it worked fine once properly tightened in its socket. Her mysterious visitor must have loosened it. She noticed odd gray flakes, delicate and papery, littering the landing.

  “Do you think these are from Note Man?”

  (“I can’t think of anyone else it could be,”) Pard said. (“Is that what you’re calling him? Works for me.”)

  During the morning Healerina saw a fair number of weekend tourists who were spending a couple of days at the spa, but none of them was looking for healing.

  Noon brought Karma Kendrick, beard, tats, cut-off jean vest, the works.

  Oh, joy, I have a feeling this isn’t going to go well.

  Pard spoke from his window perch. (“He doesn’t appear to be in need of healing. Well, spiritual healing, maybe.”)

  Daley watched him wander among the display cases, finger the feathers on a couple of dream catchers, then amble over to where she was standing.

  “Remember me?” he said.

  “I do.”

  He was staring at her white patch, which she figured was a couple of feet above where he usually stared at a woman.

  “What the hell happened to your hair?”

  (“His middle name should be ‘Tact’ instead of Karma.”)

  “It just grows that way.”

  “I don’t remember—”

  “I was wearing a cap the last two times you saw me.”

  “Oh, yeah. So you do remember me.”

  “I even remember your name: Karma.”

  He grinned through his shaggy beard. “Do you, now? I guess I must’ve made a big impression on you.”

  (“The last thing you want to do, Daley, is encourage this guy—not even a little.”)

  “Well, your name did. Never met anyone named Karma before.”

  (“Oh, well, that should chase him right off.”)

  “Girlie,” he said, stroking his beard, “you’ve never met anyone ay-tall like me before.”

  “That’s probably true.”

  Girlie? Really?

  (“I assume this passes for charm in his world. And don’t forget, he’s at least fifteen years your senior.”)

  He said, “And tell you what: I don’t think I ever met anybody like you before. I mean with that gold hand and that white patch of hair. You’re really somethin’ else, y’know that?”

  What did she say to that?

  “That’s probably true too.”

  He flexed his huge biceps. “See those guns? No steroids, just hard work. And hard as rock. Check ’em out.”

  Touch him? Is he kidding?

  “I’ll stick with ‘seeing is believing.’”

  He hesitated, then lowered his arms and made a show of looking around. “So what is this place? You, like, heal people?”

  (“Careful…”)

  “I sell stuff. Want to buy something?”

  A wider grin. “I gotta feeling what I’m looking for ain’t for sale.”

  Puh-leese!

  She refused to respond to that.

  “Say,” he said, “what time you get off?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  As if I didn’t know.

  “Well, I was thinking you and me could go down to the Cactus and have a beer or two.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “After that we can wander over to my place. It’s the double-wide right next to the big dish.”

  Time to shut this down.

  “Thanks, but I don’t think that will work.”

  The grin vanished. “Why not? You got something better to do?”

  “Nothing personal.”

  He started nodding. “Oh, you got something going with that Pendry kid.”

  (“It would never occur to him that it might have something to do with him, now, w
ould it?”)

  “That’s unlikely, since I’ve known him less than a week.”

  “So what is it then?”

  Had to be careful here …

  “I just don’t think we’re a good match.”

  “Yeah? How do you know if you ain’t tried it?”

  “Some things a girl just knows.”

  His expression darkened as he leaned in close. “Listen—”

  “Well, if it isn’t Karma in the flesh,” said a man close behind Kendrick.

  Daley hadn’t noticed him come in, and neither, apparently, had Kendrick, who stiffened at the words.

  He looked familiar …

  “Oh,” Kendrick said. “Alvarez. What’re you doing here?”

  Deputy Alvarez … of course. He looked so different in civilian clothes.

  Alvarez indicated the little girl whose hand he held. “Brought my daughter to do a little shopping. You behaving yourself?”

  “Course I am. Just like always.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  Alvarez stared hard until Kendrick shrugged and moved away.

  Kendrick pointed a finger at Daley and said, “To be continued,” as he strolled out the door.

  Alvarez watched him go, then turned to Daley. “He bothering you?”

  “Just asking me out. Not happy that I wasn’t interested.” She didn’t want to say how glad she was that the deputy had chosen that moment to stop by, so she quipped, “Don’t tell me you’ve had another complaint already.”

  He smiled. “No, just looking for a little doodad for Araceli here.”

  “Araceli,” Daley said to the dark-haired, dark-eyed little girl in a pink dress. “What a beautiful name.”

  “It means ‘Altar of the Sky,’” her father said.

  “How old are you, Araceli?”

  The girl didn’t answer, just leaned hard against her father’s leg and whimpered as she rubbed the right side of her head.

  “She’s four,” he said, “and she’s not feeling too great today.”

  “Oh?”

  “Headache. Her pediatrician says she’s got childhood migraines. Her mother gets them and they’re known to run in families, so…” He shrugged. “I thought one of your pink stones would cheer her up.”

  “They won’t help her migraine, I’m afraid.”

  Daley wanted to be sure to get that out in the open to this cop.

  He laughed. “Oh, I didn’t expect that. It’s just that I saw them here yesterday and she loves pink. I mean loves it.”

  Daley waved a hand at Araceli’s pink dress, pink hair bow, and pink sneakers. “I never would have guessed.” To the child she said, “Want me to show you the stones? I have different sizes.”

  She shook her head and clung closer to her dad.

  “She’s not herself when one hits. I’ll take her.”

  He lifted her and carried her over to the display. Some of the palm stones were pink quartz and Daley wondered …

  Think I should offer him one on the house?

  (“That’s iffy. I say not. He might think you’re trying to influence his report to Consumer Affairs.”)

  But it’s a good report—he said so himself—and it’s probably already in.

  (“Then he might think you’re rewarding him.”)

  So either way my motives come off as questionable.

  (“That’s how I see it. On the other hand—”)

  Araceli made a retching noise as a cascade of vomit erupted from her mouth. She began to wail as it soaked the front of her dress.

  Daley grabbed the roll of paper towels she’d been using to clean the front window and rushed over. Alvarez still had her in his arms. Daley tore off a couple of sheets and, gripping the child’s upper arm, began to wipe at the dress.

  “That’s okay, honey,” she said. “I’m going to get this mess off your pretty dress.”

  “Hey, I’m so sorry,” Alvarez said. “They told us to expect this with a migraine but this is the first time it’s happened.”

  “No biggie,” she said as she wiped away what looked like curdled milk and half-digested Cheerios. “Poor kid.”

  (“Keep hold of her,”) Pard said. (“I’m going to take a look inside.”)

  Araceli began to struggle against Daley’s grip. She wanted her daddy and only her daddy. But Daley held on and kept wiping.

  Hurry it.

  “Just give me a second here, honey,” Daley cooed, “and we’ll get most of this off.”

  Araceli screamed then and her father pulled her away, breaking contact.

  “I’d better get her back to the car,” he said as he carried her toward the door. “Sorry for the mess.”

  “What mess? It’s all on her.”

  Pard appeared beside her. (“She’s got a brain tumor, Daley.”)

  “What?” she said aloud through her shock.

  Alvarez gave her a questioning look as he went out the door.

  You’re sure?

  (“Of course I’m sure.”)

  Well, did you fix it?

  (“I didn’t have time. I was just assessing the situation when she broke contact.”)

  We’ve got to tell him. They think it’s migraines.

  (“You can’t come flat out and say she’d got a tumor. There’s no way you can know that. Well, there’s me, of course, but—“)

  I’ve got to tell him something!

  She hurried out to the street where Alvarez had just finished strapping the child into her car seat in the rear section of his double-cab pickup.

  “She needs a brain scan,” she blurted.

  He slipped behind the wheel and rolled down the driver window.

  A half smile. “Are you practicing medicine now?”

  “I’m telling you she’s got to have a brain scan ASAP.”

  He stared at her. “Her doctor wanted one but her mother’s had migraines since she was a kid and she said no.”

  Daley had to get through to him.

  “Deputy Alvarez, listen to me, please. I have … an instinct for these things. Something serious is going on with Araceli, much more serious than migraines. Please-please-please, have her scanned. I’m begging you.”

  He started the truck. “I appreciate your concern, I really do, but—”

  “Do it!” she said, slamming her hand on the driver door as the truck eased back. “Do it or you’ll never forgive yourself!”

  He looked startled and braked for an instant, then kept rolling. He gave her a half-hearted wave, then roared off.

  Did I get through?

  (“I couldn’t tell. But I suspect your Parthian shot will eat at him all the way home, wherever that may be.”)

  You mean about not forgiving himself? Well, he won’t. I can tell he loves that little girl.

  (“Well, it’s out of our hands now.”)

  But not out of Daley’s mind.

  SUNDAY—MARCH 1

  1

  Happy Day of Rest, Rhys thought as he watched the sweaty workers lay the cable.

  Really, was Dad crazy? What was the big hurry?

  The first thing Dad had done after returning from Tadhak’s office on Friday was arrange the rental and delivery of two ditch witches—basically giant chain saws on wheels designed for cutting through dirt instead of wood. Yesterday Rhys had been assigned to await their arrival and position one digger at the transformer and the other at the tower. The delivery had been delayed, so while he was waiting he’d wound up with the added task of trolling the trailer park to lure solar array workers with double-time wages to give up a day off to feed Dad’s OCD.

  Saturday had been pretty well shot by the time he’d finished.

  Today they’d started at daybreak, with one ditch witch trenching from the tower toward the transformer, and the other working out from the transformer. As promised, Jason had delivered two reels of his surplus heavy-duty electrical cable. One reel rolled along after each ditch witch, unspooling into the fresh ditch, while a couple of men with shovels followed
to fill in the trench by hand.

  The good news was that Tadhak’s main transformer was located on the south side of town. Had it been on the north side, laying the cable would have been far more complicated and taken days longer.

  How convenient to have it here in direct line to the tower. The mystery to Rhys was why it had been placed here on the opposite side from the wind farm in the first place. Almost as if Tadhak had anticipated this. But of course that couldn’t be. The transformer had been here well before the tower.

  Which dragged his thoughts back to yesterday’s surreal “negotiation.” He’d always heard that a good negotiation ended in a compromise, which meant each party walked away with something less than everything they were looking for. Yesterday, from all appearances, both his father and Jason Tadhak had walked away delighted with the outcome.

  What’s wrong with this picture?

  And Dad’s parting remark still bothered him.

  What’s fifty percent of nothing?

  What the hell was he saying? Was he going to cheat the Tadhaks? His father could be ruthless—extremely—but he valued his reputation. So what did he mean by fifty percent of nothing?

  Something very not right there.

  Karma sauntered up. He was experienced with foreman duties at the array so he’d been running the show here today.

  He pulled a hand towel from his back pocket and wiped his face as he said, “That’s extra-heavy-duty cable, a lot bigger than what we need, and tough to work with. I never thought we could do it, but it looks we’re gonna have it all buried before we lose light.”

  Sundown was officially somewhere around five-thirty, but out here, close to the mountains, it disappeared earlier as it sank behind the peaks looming to the west.

  “Good job.”

  “Your father promised me a bonus if we got it done today.”

  “Well, you earned it, Kendrick. Just submit a list of names and the hours they worked, and you’ll all receive an extra check this week.”

  He nodded and stared south toward the tower. “This is all for that thing? What’s up?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that was one helluva light show the other night. Now you’re pumping more juice into it?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “I’ll bet. Just like that chick you’ve been hanging out with.”

  Rhys tensed. “What about her?”

  “Well, I was talking to her yesterday in that weird store she’s got. Not exactly the friendly sort.”

  Rhys had to smile. He had that right.