Touching Silver

by Jamie Craig

  She easily found the path from the day before. Crushed undergrowth revealed their treads, and broken branches from the low-hanging greenery marked deviations from the trail Cora had chosen. Contrary to what she had believed, the heat was even more oppressive here than in the village, as if the trees were gathering the sunlight and storing it for the cooler months ahead. To Remy, her footsteps sounded thunderous, but those times when she attempted to move more quietly, the hum of the jungle made her skin crawl.

  She thought she was being followed. More than once, she stopped and looked behind her, wondering what had made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. But each time she only saw green, green and more green. She was alone. Imagining things. There was nothing but the life that naturally teemed within the confines of earth and sky. She was the intruder. Nobody else.

  The babble of the stream Cora had stopped at gave Remy a place to rest, but her skittish gaze jumped from tree to tree. Why had Cora chosen this spot to talk about the Silver Maiden? She had been adamant about not discussing it in the village. Was there some significance to the stream? Remy didn’t think so. It was calm and beautiful, but it was just a tributary. The original Silver Maiden had forged her coins at the river.

  It wouldn’t hurt to follow the stream. As long as she didn’t stray from its winding path, Remy wouldn’t get lost.

  Ten minutes later, the whispering started.

  At first she thought it was a breeze. It was low and almost not there. A specter in a world that breathed with more life than she’d ever seen in all her twenty-five years. But when it dawned on her that her hair was sticking to her neck, that nothing was moving but her feet, she knew it wasn’t the wind playing tricks on her.

  Remy stopped. Cocked her head. Closed her eyes. Listened.

  She didn’t hear it. She felt it. That’s why she had thought it was just a draft of air. She felt it slither beneath her skin, crawl to her spine and make it tingle.

  By the time she opened her eyes again, her heart was pounding.

  She should go back. Nathan waited for her at the house. She hadn’t even left him a note, and he would kill her for making him worry. No doubt he would wake with her gone from their bed. Common sense screamed at her to turn around, and any other time Remy would have taken common sense in hand and let it lead the way. It was how she’d survived as long as she had. She didn’t do dumb things like this.

  But she’d also survived by listening to her gut. And right now, her gut wanted to pay attention to whatever whispers the jungle wanted to share.

  She walked. Always with the stream, always with a step that didn’t falter. When she saw the structure rising out of the earth like it had just as much right to be there as the trees, she knew why she had followed her instincts.

  Dirt clung to the base like to the roots of a tree, thinning over the smooth walls the higher it climbed. Time had weathered the stone to a mottled gray, but she could tell it had once been the palest white, catching stray beams of light to send gold scattering across the water. She could even imagine the backs of women, brown from the sun, bowed over the stream. They weren’t there now. Only the whispering still tugging her forward.

  She walked unerringly toward the entrance. Vines coiled up and through the stone, embracing the building before threading through the trees that canopied above. With each step the air grew cooler, the ground softer. She reached the cavernous doorway and pushed back the vegetation in order to go inside.

  Two stairs carved from the same stone that made the walls led down to the main arena. It was square—perfectly square, she realized with a start—and on the opposite wall a long table ran its entire length. She headed for it without thinking, ignoring the dirt clinging to her boots, but halfway across the main floor she froze.

  The whispers were now voices. She didn’t just feel them. Now she heard them.

  “This, we bring. This, we give. This, we ask. In your name…”

  It wasn’t one. It was many. All female. Speaking almost in unison, almost a chant.

  Remy edged closer to the table—the altar, she somehow knew. The sudden scent of flowers made her choke. She coughed, trying to clear her lungs. It didn’t work. Her head spun. The room tilted and dipped until she stumbled to her knees, clawing at the loose grit of the ground in a vain attempt to get it to stop.

  “Don’t. Don’t let him do this, you can’t let him…”

  The query tumbled out of her mouth, in spite of the growing effort it took to breathe.

  “Let who do what?”

  The voices separated then, each taking their own color, their own timbre. They spoke over and around each other, chaotic rather than a unified chant. But one certain word came through, loud and clear.

  “Help…”

  A strong, familiar hand gripped her shoulder, and the voices disappeared like smoke. “Remy?”

  The stasis locking her lungs and limbs lifted. She whipped around, fists already forming to strike out. Her eyes met Nathan’s, and the instinct to fight disintegrated as quickly as it had come.

  “Tell me you hear it.” She watched his face. “Tell me I’m not cracked.”

  He paused for a moment before shaking his head. “No. I don’t hear anything.” He cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “What did you hear?”

  Maybe she was cracked. Maybe it was the heat finally getting to her brain. But she couldn’t lie to him, as appealing as the notion to pretend none of it had happened was.

  “Voices. Girls’ voices. I heard them halfway here, and now…” She swallowed. She was parched. “But they’re gone now.”

  “I don’t think you’re cracked. Do you know what this place is?”

  She shook her head but then said, “Someplace safe. I know that much.”

  “It’s the Silver Maiden’s temple. Olivia…well, it’s a long story, but Olivia saw it and she described it to me. I didn’t think you’d go off and find it on your own, though.”

  “I wanted to take a walk. Get some thinking done. I wasn’t looking for it or anything. I just…found it.”

  “It’s okay. I was scared when I woke up and you were gone. Isaac didn’t answer his phone this morning, and then Olivia told me…” Nathan smiled. “But it’s nothing. You’re fine.”

  “I’m sorry.” Rising to her feet, she threw her arms around him, seeking out his mouth with her own. He responded immediately, returning the embrace. He held her more tightly than usual, almost painfully so, but she didn’t argue, clinging to him with her own desperation.

  “I want to go home,” she said when she pulled away. “I want to get away from this place.”

  “I want to go home too. We’ll get back to Buenos Aires tonight and fly out tomorrow morning.” He kissed her forehead. “How does that sound?”

  Not soon enough, but it was the best she was going to get. “You don’t have to meet with Cora anymore?”

  “I think we’ve got all we need from her. And if not, she’s just a phone call away.”

  Did they have all they needed? She still didn’t have the assurances she needed, but she did have something else. She had girls she didn’t know asking her for help she didn’t know how to give. Were they the same girls Gabriel had taken? Were there others? She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Answers might be found within the temple, but this was the last place she wanted to be.

  She wanted to be home.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Olivia left Isaac with the officers who responded to her call, though a part of her didn’t want to walk away from him. But she could do more good if she went to work and left him to collect witness statements. Yellow tape cordoned off her entire yard, and Tiberius watched the whole affair with a curious eye from her living room window. They had found tracks all around the house, including in her flowerbed outside the back door. To be on the safe side, they were going to lift prints from her doors and windows. She managed to keep her voice calm as she said goodbye to a distracted Isaac, but as soon as sh
e was in the car and around the corner, she punched in her angriest CD and let the driving bass line thrum through her all the way to the station.

  Changes were in order. Tiberius would not be locked in his bedroom again. He’d be free to roam the house, even if that meant they had to put up with him sleeping at the foot of the bed. She called a locksmith and scheduled an appointment for that evening. There wasn’t any sign of a forced entry, but there hadn’t been any sign of a forced entry at Isaac’s apartment either. She also stopped by the hardware store and bought a large floodlight with an automatic sensor. If the asshole came around again, she’d be ready for him.

  There were nearly a dozen messages waiting for her when she reached her office. The first, from the Santa Monica PD, would have had her bouncing off the walls any other day.

  We have a rapist here who matches the MO of the Jackie Carey case from three years ago. Is that one of yours?

  The second came from her mother.

  Hi dear, don’t forget the party tomorrow night. I know you’re busy, but you know what the doctors say…this may be Grandma’s last Christmas.

  The third was from forensics.

  We’ve got a report on the envelope you sent down, Olivia. Give me a call.

  And that wasn’t even counting the emails.

  She dealt with everything in the order she received them, except for the call to her mother and the visit to the lab, which she saved for last. She kept an eye on her voicemail and pager as she made her calls, hoping to hear from Isaac, but he never rang.

  I’ll stop by his desk this afternoon. Make sure he’s fine. She dialed her mother’s number. The past several days had been so hectic she’d missed her weekly call.

  Candace Wright picked up after the third ring. “Oh, Olivia. Did you get my message?”

  Obviously I did, or I wouldn’t be calling. “Yeah, Mom. How are you?”

  “Good, good. Busy. Tom is flying in from Atlanta! Can you believe it?”

  Olivia grimaced. Tom wasn’t so much the black sheep of the family as the pain-in-the-ass of the family. “No, I thought he was going to be busy with work this year.”

  “Well, he was, but you know how much he loves Grandma. She’s been asking about you, too, you know. She wants to know if you’ll be at the party.”

  “Mom, have I ever missed the family Christmas party?” Olivia scanned through the fresh email that had accumulated while she’d been dealing with the overnight stuff. Trash, trash, trash, spam, spam.

  “You just seem so busy lately.” For a moment, Candace’s voice wavered and she sounded very unsure. And very old.

  “Mom, I have been busy. I’m working on a big case right now. Seven missing girls, but I think they’re still alive, and I think we can find them. But that doesn’t mean I can’t take a night off to spend time with my family.”

  “Oh, I know. I’m just being silly.”

  “You’re not silly. I’ve got a long day ahead of me, so I’ve got to go. Do you need me to bring anything?”

  “No, of course not. Just bring yourself.” Olivia made a mental note to stop at the store and buy some pies. “Oh, your Uncle Rich says he’s bringing somebody he’d like you to meet.”

  “Mom, you can’t fix me up at the family Christmas party.”

  “I’m not fixing you up with anybody! But Rich says he’s a good kid. We think you’ll like him.”

  Kid? “I appreciate it, but…”

  “No buts, he’s already invited. We can’t un-invite him. That would be rude.”

  Olivia sighed. “Of course it would be. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’re right and I’ll like him a lot. I’ve got to go now.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then. Merry Christmas!”

  “Merry Christmas.”

  She didn’t have a free moment to get to the lab until lunchtime. Jon greeted her with a smile, her report in hand. He was one of a few who always went that extra mile for her. Treating techs with respect had a way of paying off.

  “Isn’t that Detective McGuire in the photos?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Not usually your jurisdiction, is it?”

  Olivia arched her brow. “What have you got for me? Are there any prints?”

  He passed her the file. “One partial print that doesn’t match you or McGuire.”

  “Did you run it against the database?”

  “There wasn’t enough to make a positive match,” Jon said, with a note of apology in his voice.

  “Someone vandalized Detective McGuire’s car last night. They’re brushing for prints, but I don’t know if they lifted any. If they do, could you try to match them against this? Even if we can’t get an ID right now, it’ll be good to know we’re dealing with the same guy.”

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  “There was nothing else, though?”

  “No. How’s he doing? I don’t know if I’d be sleeping too well, knowing somebody was watching me.”

  She couldn’t speak for Isaac, but she didn’t see any peaceful nights in her future until this was resolved. “Hopefully we’ll be able to catch this asshole and he won’t have to worry about it anymore. Thanks.”

  She couldn’t help her disappointment. She hadn’t said anything to Isaac about it, but she had really hoped they were dealing with somebody too stupid to wear gloves. Or somebody stupid enough to seal the envelope with their tongue instead of a sponge. But they found no traces of DNA.

  There was one potential witness. Olivia resisted the temptation to cut through the precinct to stop and see Isaac and instead went directly to the front desk. She approached the young officer with a smile and introduced herself. “Can you tell me who was on duty two days ago, around one o’clock?”

  He smiled at her. “That would be me. I’ve got the day-shift all month.”

  “Great. I hope you can help me out—” she leaned over and looked at his nametag, “—Chris.”

  “I can try. What do you need?”

  “Two days ago, somebody dropped an envelope off for Detective McGuire.”

  Chris brightened. “Oh yeah, I remember that.”

  She frowned. “You do?”

  “It’s not every day a girl like that comes by, you know?”

  “A girl? A girl dropped this off for Isaac?” Suddenly her list of possible leads expanded to include every woman he had a relationship with. Had he broken someone’s heart?

  “Yeah. Tall, leggy. Big…I mean, she was well endowed. Long, dark hair.” He got a distant smile on his face. “I couldn’t tell how old she was. Maybe late twenties?”

  Yeah, not too many gang members looking like that these days. “Did she leave a name or say anything?”

  “No, she just handed me the envelope and asked me to deliver it to McGuire. She said it was important.”

  She passed him one of her cards. “Look, if you remember anything else, or if she comes by again, call me.”

  “No problem. Is she bad news?”

  “She might be.”

  She returned to her office, mildly frustrated. On the one hand, a partial print and an eyewitness description was better than working with nothing. On the other, her suspect list had exploded and she didn’t even have a jumping off point. There was nothing to do but push on to the third part of her plan—gathering names.

  Isaac knocked on her door as Olivia cut the chicken for the skillet. It was just after eight, and she’d thought they would go out, but eventually she got tired of waiting. Of course the minute she got tired of waiting he finally showed up. She unlocked the new deadbolt and opened her mouth to tease him for his tardiness, but one look at his face stopped the words.

  “Tell me you’re not giving me a hard time tonight.” He made no move to come in. “I can’t deal with any more shit today.”

  Do I usually give you a hard time, jerk?

  “I hadn’t planned to, no.” She held the door open. “Can you deal with some stir-fry?”

  “God, yes.”

  C
rossing the threshold seemed to strip a veneer of strength from his body, and his shoulders slumped long before he hit the living room. Tiberius wound around his legs, but Isaac mostly ignored him, scratching the top of his head only perfunctorily before collapsing into the corner of the couch.

  “Did you know we work with idiots?”

  “I’ve always suspected as much.” Olivia settled beside him. She touched the back of his neck softly, stroking him with her fingertips. “What happened?”

  His eyes closed, but every line of his body remained like steel. “Idiots saying blue book is less than what it takes to fix my car, that the CDs that got stolen were worth more than my car even. Idiots at the impound taking two hours to get me a replacement vehicle. Idiots at the department asking if they should start calling you Tina to my Ike because I’ll be riding your coattails next. My idiot captain reaming me for losing Tomas. Oh, and this.” Without opening his eyes, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope, tossing it onto her lap. “They released my DB from the arson the other night to the family. No evidence of foul play, so no reason to hold him. I can’t even go over the body to look for evidence to link the fire to Gabriel.”

  Her head began to ache as she listened to his litany of complaints. She wasn’t surprised the blue book of his old Toyota was less than the price to fix it, and she really wasn’t surprised it took him so long to obtain a replacement. It annoyed her by now that every single man and woman in the department—and probably their spouses and neighbors—knew she and Isaac were dating, but that was like trying to fight the tides. No sense in worrying about it.

  “He shouldn’t have reamed you out about Tomas.” The platitudes she used to comfort grieving or angry families wouldn’t work on Isaac. He’d see through them before they were out of her mouth. Best approach was straight to the point. “It undermines all my efforts to convince you it wasn’t your fault. And I’m sorry about the DB. That’s just shitty.”

  “How do they expect us to nail this bastard if they take away everything we need to get it done?” Isaac leaned his head back, trapping her hand against his neck, and reached out to curl his fingers around her thigh. “The only good thing I got before getting here tonight was a call from Nathan. He’s coming home tomorrow.”