Touching Silver

by Jamie Craig

  Olivia rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. They hadn’t spent many nights together, but laying there with him felt comfortable, familiar. It felt good. “I am happy. That’s why you deserve an amazing woman like me.”

  His chuckle wrapped around both of them.

  Gabriel didn’t like funerals, but Ali’s was one of the better ones. It managed to celebrate everything Gabriel liked about the young man without being too maudlin. He hadn’t even intended to go, but he knew Ali’s mother, and Ali’s brother, Ben, had been in the organization for over a decade, and dammit, Ali was a good kid.

  The party lasted well into the night, not winding down until nearly dawn. Gabriel couldn’t help but wonder where all the food and beer came from. There seemed to be an endless supply of both, and he was glad he’d given everybody a few nights off. As the drinking progressed, he realized the party wasn’t so much about their fallen friend as it was about blowing off steam.

  Perhaps the added pressure of the last six months was getting to his men too.

  Gabriel didn’t have a single drop to drink. He wasn’t so obsessed with his private goals to forget his role in the community. He arrived. He paid his respects. He mingled with the boy’s family and his own associates. He felt raw. This wasn’t the first funeral for one of his boys, and it wouldn’t be the last, but it hurt. Ali wasn’t supposed to go. Not like this. He wished he could tell the boy’s mother something. He wished he knew how to explain it to Ali’s younger brother.

  A young woman touched Gabriel’s arm as pulled on his jacket, prepared to return to the Silver Maiden.

  “Somebody dropped this off for you.”

  He took the envelope with a frown, turning it over to break the seal. He found a single sheet of paper with a simple message typed across the front. His blood turned icy, his flesh brittle. He didn’t doubt the message, even though he didn’t know who sent it. It felt true. He felt it in his bones, behind his eyes, in the palm of his hand.

  “Is Cameron Parker here?” he asked the girl still standing near his arm.

  She nodded. “I saw him outside by the keg.”

  “Tell him to get in here. Now.”

  He had pocketed the note by the time the door opened again. Parker stood just inside the room, his pale gray gaze fixed on Gabriel. That was one of the things he had liked about the man in the beginning. He had nerve. He wasn’t afraid of looking Gabriel in the eye. At the time, it had seemed like the kind of ballsy bravado he needed in his organization. Now, it looked far more calculating.

  “You wanted something?”

  “Yes, I do. I want to know where you found the nerve to show your face at this funeral.”

  The slightest of lines appeared between Parker’s pale blond brows. “Ali was my friend.”

  “Clearly we have different meanings of the word.” Gabriel waved his hands. “I’m not really interested in what you think you were doing. I don’t even really care why you thought you wouldn’t get caught. This interview is more about our future together.”

  “Caught? At what?”

  Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Do you not know, or do you want to avoid implicating yourself in crimes I’m not aware of? You are the reason Isaac McGuire has been focusing on me so intently for the past week. Ever since he found Ali’s body.”

  Parker shook his head. “Why would I do anything to attract McGuire’s attention? The man hates me. The last thing I need is him on my back.”

  “But he hasn’t been on your back. He’s been on mine. Because somehow, some way, you fucked with the third fire. You’re the reason there was something to link me. You can’t kill me outright. You’re smart enough to know that. But there are other ways to get me out of the way.” He brushed his jacket aside, revealing his gun. “Which is why I felt we needed to talk about where this relationship is going.”

  The only indication of Parker’s rising stress in the face of danger was his audible intake of breath. “I don’t know why you think I’ve got anything to do with Ali’s death. But I assure you, it had nothing to do with me. I’ll do anything you want to prove that, Gabriel.”

  Gabriel took a deep breath. It would be easier to shoot him—problem solved. But Parker was smart, and he knew the area very well. Gabriel had had a grudging respect for the man since before he went to prison. And anybody who could get Nathan Pierce off the force deserved a second chance.

  One second chance.

  “Find Stacy Montenegro.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Nathan kept the conversation superficial as Stacy ate her donuts. She even smiled at him. Olivia saw a lot in her smile—so much of the young woman she could have been if Gabriel hadn’t stolen five years from her life. So much of the girl who had just been a child when he pulled her from her home. Stacy licked her fingers with the same sort of enthusiasm as a child, not at all self-conscious to be covered in glaze and fruit filling. Nathan handed her a stack of napkins with an amused smile.

  Olivia leaned against the wall, her arms folded, feeling a sharp sense of déjà vu. Of course she had actually experienced some of this before. Watching as Nathan tried to coax Stacy out of her reticence, hoping she’d give them something new to work with. The urge to apologize was new, though. Stacy had already given them so much information. She shouldn’t be forced to relive her ordeal again and again. She just wanted to go home. Olivia just wanted to let her.

  After this. We’ll get him after this. We won’t fuck up again.

  If they had anything to fuck up. They had no guarantee Stacy would remember anything new. Or useful. Olivia couldn’t escape the fear they were just pounding their heads against a wall.

  “Did you do what I asked you to do last night?” Nathan asked, once she finished eating.

  Stacy’s smile faded. “I don’t think it’s what you want.” Twisting to the side, she opened the drawer on the nightstand and rooted around, drawing out a small steno pad with a pen clipped to its spiral ring. She passed it over to Nathan, almost looking guilty as she did so. “My head started hurting, so I laid down, and then I fell asleep.”

  “No, I’m sure it’s fine.” As he read over the notes, Olivia tensed, forcing herself to stay where she was instead of crowding the bed to read over his shoulder. He pointed at the pad. “Are these the people you saw regularly? Did you ever see Gabriel?”

  She nodded. “He liked to come at holidays. With gifts.”

  Olivia’s gut twisted. Nathan and Remy thought Gabriel was trying to reassemble the coven of priestesses for the Silver Maiden. Olivia didn’t quite know what that meant, but as far as motives went, it was as good as any. And she knew Gabriel treated them kindly. If he planned to use the girls in some sort of cultish ritual, it wouldn’t behoove him to hurt them.

  But he was willing to hurt them. Or he allowed somebody else to hurt them, judging from the bruises healing on Stacy’s neck.

  “What sort of gifts?” Nathan asked.

  “Stuff like you’d get from The Body Shop. Except nicer. A lot nicer. Bath oils, shampoo, hand lotion. Pretty stuff. Kind of a…” Her nose wrinkled, her mind intent on the sensory memory. “Kind of a green smell?”

  Olivia caught her breath. Nathan looked confused, but she understood. Her nostrils flared, the phantom aroma suddenly overwhelming her. Her head throbbed, and she closed her eyes, trying to force the memory—a memory that wasn’t even hers—away. When she opened them again, both Nathan and Stacy were watching her.

  “Speaking of green,” Nathan said. “Are you okay?”

  Olivia swallowed hard and forced herself to smile. “I’m fine. Stacy, was there anything else special or distinctive about the gifts?”

  She thought for a moment before saying, “No, not really. The only thing weird was how much he would bring. Enough to last for months, until he’d come again. And if we didn’t use them…” Her skin paled, and she began toying with her bedspread, pleating the soft fabric between her fingers. “But they were nice.”

  Nathan looked u
p, meeting Olivia’s gaze. A shadow passed in the blue depths, a shadow she knew was mirrored in her own eyes.

  “What happened if you didn’t use the gifts?” Nathan asked.

  “Nothing.” But the answer came too quickly.

  That’s enough. We don’t need to push her. They were captives. We know what that means.

  But she kept her protest to herself. She wasn’t usually this soft when questioning a witness, but her need to protect Stacy was almost painful.

  “Stacy, I know this might be a hard memory for you.” Nathan leaned forward. “But we need to know everything we can about Gabriel.”

  Her eyes were large and luminous, and her knuckles grew white where she fisted the comforter. “It wasn’t him,” she whispered. “It won’t make a difference in catching him.”

  Talking about Tomas and Nando didn’t inspire that sort of reaction from Stacy. Not even Gabriel inspired that reaction.

  “Who was it?” Olivia asked urgently.

  Stacy jerked at the insistence in her tone, and her gaze flew to Nathan’s face. She didn’t move, she didn’t even breathe, until he gave her a gentle nod.

  “Her name…her name is Marisol. She is…not very nice.”

  Olivia sought her memory for the name, but she came up blank. It might ring a bell for Isaac, though. She made a mental note to call Rico and ask him if he had any information about Marisol. If she had any sort of record, they might be able to track her down the way they’d tracked Tomas.

  “Can you give us a physical description of her?” Olivia asked, stepping toward the bed in her excitement.

  But Stacy shook her head and burrowed down into her pillow again. “Just a girl. Older than me, but not much.” She turned a hand over to reveal a healed scar on her inner forearm. “She likes knives, but we were never hurt when Gabriel might be visiting.”

  When she was twelve, Olivia’s older brother broke his leg during a football game. The bone stuck right through the skin. She had turned and vomited from the top of the bleachers before she even registered what she was seeing. It had been instantaneous, and at the time it seemed more natural than crying or screaming. Olivia wanted to vomit now. It wasn’t the sight of the scar—not by itself. It was the sudden certainty that Stacy had more scars, carefully hidden. On her upper thighs, her buttocks, the soles of her feet, her hairline, below her arms.

  “I’m sorry,” Olivia said, covering her mouth and heading to the door. But stepping into the hall didn’t help her roiling stomach.

  Isaac immediately stepped forward from where he’d been lounging against the wall. A worried frown creased his brow as he searched her face. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, though she knew the lie was futile. “I don’t…I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Probably just something I ate.”

  A fresh revolt from her stomach made her bolt for the bathroom, shoving Isaac out of her way as she raced to make it in time. The porcelain lid of the toilet rang through the tiled room when she shoved it open, and she barely pulled her hair back before her breakfast came back up.

  Isaac was right there, a strong hand stroking her spine, the other helping to keep her hair out of the way. He didn’t say a word when her vomiting turned into dry heaves. He didn’t say anything until after he’d risen and gotten a glass of water for her from the sink.

  “If you didn’t like the Spanish omelette, you should’ve said something at breakfast.” A small smile accompanied his gentle tease.

  The water didn’t soothe the burn in the back of her throat. She swished it around in around her mouth and spit it into the toilet before leaning over to flush. She could feel Isaac’s eyes on her, and for a moment she was angry. She didn’t need him to hover over her. She just wanted to be left alone.

  Olivia looked up, intending to tell him just that, but she saw the obvious concern in his eyes. Taking a deep breath, she forced back her anger. Isaac didn’t deserve it—she was angry at herself, not him.

  “Your omelette was fine. I just…she said Marisol liked to use a knife on them and…I’m fine now.” She smiled to prove it.

  Isaac didn’t look like he believed her, but he straightened anyway. “I’ll be out in the hall if you want anything else. Remy was driving me crazy downstairs.” He was in the open doorway when he paused and glanced back. “Who’s Marisol?”

  Olivia set the glass aside and frowned. “You don’t recognize the name either? She seemed to be the one in charge of the girls when Gabriel wasn’t with them.”

  “It might be somebody new he’s brought in. I’ll run the name through the system and see what pops up. I suppose it would be too much to hope that she gave you a last name too.”

  “She might have given Nathan one. I was too busy trying not to blow chunks to ask.” She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were surprisingly dark, and the blood had drained from her face. “God, this is so embarrassing,” she muttered to herself.

  “I think it makes you human.”

  She caught his brief smile in the reflection before he left her alone in the bathroom, the door closing quietly behind him.

  Olivia found mouthwash in the medicine cabinet and rinsed her mouth out. She felt empty, oddly hollow, but her stomach had calmed considerably. She splashed her face with cold water, pinching her cheeks until some of the color returned. She didn’t know how, or why, but this was connected to her visions with the coin. It was the only explanation that made sense. She had seen much, much worse than a few scars on a girl who was otherwise whole, and she had never lost her lunch before.

  But Stacy—and her green smell—had been in her vision. And Olivia wasn’t so sure she believed in coincidences anymore.

  She stepped out of the bathroom just as Nathan shut the bedroom door behind him.

  “Well?” Isaac beat her to the punch. “You get anything good? Olivia mentioned another name. Marisol. Did the girl say who she was?”

  Nathan shook his head. “I don’t think she knows too much about Marisol. Not any more than what she was telling.” He turned to Olivia. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine. I’m fine, thanks.”

  Nathan passed the notebook to Isaac. “I think we need to find this Marisol.”

  He was already nodding. “That’s going to be my first priority when I get back to the station.”

  Behind them, the stairs creaked as Remy bounded up them. “Are we done? Tell me we have enough to find the others.”

  “Not yet.” Isaac gestured with the notepad. “But we’ve got a definite lead.”

  She plucked the pad out of his hands before he could yank it away, flipping through Stacy’s scribblings. A frown began to crease her brow, and she thumbed back to a previous page, her mouth moving silently as she went back and forth between the pages. Olivia realized she was counting.

  “I thought there were only seven girls kidnapped,” she said, looking to Nathan and Olivia.

  “There were only seven girls kidnapped,” Olivia said. “Why?”

  “Because there’s seven names here. And if you count Stacy, that’s eight.” Panic flared in his dark eyes. “The coven was eight, right? That’s how many Gabriel needs.”

  “But the eighth name is Marisol’s. She works for Gabriel,” Olivia explained. “She wasn’t kidnapped. Not just any combination of eight girls will do the trick, right?”

  Nathan frowned and turned back to the door. “Still, we should eliminate the possibility.”

  Olivia followed him into the bedroom automatically. Stacy looked at her warily, but didn’t otherwise acknowledge her.

  “Stacy, we just have one more question for you,” Nathan said, standing near the bed. “About Marisol.”

  She paled, but nodded slowly. “But I don’t know what else I can tell you.”

  “Those lotions, and soaps and oils Gabriel insisted you use—did Marisol use them too?”

  Her gaze slid sideways as she searched her memory, her nose wrinkling in the same manner it had before. Olivia braced herself fo
r another wave of nausea to come from experiencing it, but the flash that went through her was too swift to find root.

  “Yes.” Stacy’s eyes returned to Nathan’s, certainty shining in them. “I never really noticed because all of the girls wore that scent, but yeah, Marisol smelled the same.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Olivia’s nausea didn’t return, but that was about the only thing she had going for her. Her mouth still tasted awful—no amount of mouthwash seemed to help—her throat still burned, and her head still ached. The pain only intensified when she left Stacy, drumming through her body with each step she took.

  Not even the excitement of finding a new link to Gabriel soothed her. She knew if they tracked down this Marisol person, they could stop Gabriel. But they only had her first name. Stacy couldn’t provide a strong description, or identifying details, or any background. When Olivia reached the station, she sat behind the wheel of her SUV for several minutes to mull over what they had. Really, it was more to take the time and gather her strength so she could walk to her cubicle without looking like death warmed over. She held her head high when she went inside.

  Until she called Rico.

  “I told you last time you called that I’m done with you. It’s not personal, Olivia. But I can’t go back to my church, and my kids are suffering from traumatic stress disorder or something.”

  “What would Jesus do?” she blurted.

  “What did you just say to me?”

  “Rico, I meant, I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important. I know you’ve done a lot for me, and I appreciate it, but I just need one more thing.”

  “One more thing? How am I supposed to believe that?”

  “Because after this, Gabriel is going to prison for a long time.”

  “What makes you think you can get him? Even if you arrest him, which no offense to you, but that’s a big if. Even if you arrest him, nobody will make anything stick. I’ve seen this shit before.”

  “I need to find those girls, Rico. I know you’re trying to turn a new leaf. I know this isn’t your life anymore. But it’ll be on your head if any of those girls don’t come out of this alive. Do you want to live with that? Do you want to look at your daughter’s face and see Stacy Montenegro, or Lucy Chavez, or Amy Mills? What if your daughter just disappeared one day?”