Chasing Silver

by Jamie Craig

  She suddenly looked very small and nothing like the fierce girl he had come to know. He hated seeing her like that.

  So what are you going to do about it?

  Nathan leaned back, staring at the ceiling as if the answers were written there. After several moments of tense silence, he said, “I don’t think you’re on drugs and I don’t think you’re crazy, Remy. But time travel? It’s not logical and it’s not…it’s not possible.” He slid his eyes sideways to look at her, but he could tell he wasn’t saying anything she didn’t already know.

  Her thick lashes lowered for a moment as she considered his words. “I don’t know how to…oh!” With an unexpected burst of energy, she uncoiled and twisted around, sweeping her hair over her shoulder with one hand to expose the smooth column of her neck while the other grabbed his wrist. “Feel,” she ordered, and lifted his hand to the base of her skull.

  Nathan ran his fingers over her soft skin until he felt a slight rise, an unexpected bump, just below her hairline. He pressed his thumb against it lightly, but it didn’t give. It remained impressed against her skin, hard and unmoving. A part of him flinched, disgusted on some vague, primal level, but he didn’t understand why. “What is it?”

  “A tracking chip. I got it when my mom left me and I ended up in the system. The feds do it to keep an eye on all their delinqs, but I hooked up with someone a few years ago who fried it for me.” Remy turned to look back at him, her eyes begging him to believe her. “You don’t have these now, right?”

  “No, no, absolutely—” Nathan stopped, thinking about radio-frequency identification chips and that if problems of size, power consumption, and maybe antenna performance were solved, a GPS tracking implant wasn’t such a far-fetched idea. “Well, not yet anyway, and if we had the technology it would be unconstitutional…” He stopped again, considering Homeland Security’s demand for a national ID card. Hadn’t the federal government already mandated some sort of required ID? “No, we don’t have them now.”

  She let her hair fall back along her spine and settled to face him again. “I know what it sounds like. It’s why I wasn’t going to say anything. But after last night…you deserve to know at least as much as I do. One thing I can’t stand is liars, and it was killing me thinking that’s what I was doing with you.”

  Nathan took her hand, absently rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. There was one big reason to dismiss her. It was all crazy. But there were a lot of smaller reasons to believe her—her odd way of speaking, the bizarre ID card, the unfamiliar clothes, and, of course, the computer chip—if that was what it was—embedded in her skin. Perhaps it was best to accept the possibility that there was more in heaven and earth than dreamt of in his own philosophy, and give her the benefit of the doubt.

  He looked up. She stared at him, waiting for him to say something. She had dropped into his life and somehow changed everything without doing anything, and now she was asking him to trust her. The way, he realized, she already trusted him.

  “Okay, Remy. I believe you. There’s too much evidence to ignore right now.”

  Relief bloomed in her eyes, and she visibly sagged as if she was a marionette whose strings had just been cut. “God, I’ve been trying to find the sauce to tell you for hours now. I was dead sure you were going to lob me as soon as I gabbed.”

  Nathan quickly translated. “No, I wouldn’t throw you out.” He swallowed, clearing his dry throat. “Can you tell me everything that happened before…before you showed up at the warehouse? Were you stealing these coins?”

  Remy’s cheeks reddened. “Yes. Not because I needed them—well, I did need them, but it was more than that. Kirsten was so paranoid about her father’s collection, and then she led the raid on the safe house. All I could think about was getting back at her.”

  The more she spoke, the faster her words came, though even she seemed to realize her answers were coming out in a jumble. “Maybe this would be easier if you asked me direct questions. Otherwise you’re going to get my entire biog, and I can’t think of a single reason why you’d want that.”

  Nathan thought of several reasons why he’d want her biog, but now wasn’t the time for an in-depth interview. “So, you broke into…Henryk’s house to steal the coins as revenge. You grab a handful. Kirsten gets a piece of you and then, poof?”

  Remy nodded.

  “So we start with the coins. What are they, where they came from, what the engravings mean, previous owners.” He almost couldn’t believe what he was saying. He was going to investigate this. He was going to research and interview someone and treat it like a case. The warm, electric feeling he always got before a new hunt, a new mystery, a new puzzle, already sizzled away in his gut at the thought of it.

  Her hand shot out and caught his wrist when he began to reach for the other coins. Nathan looked up and saw her dark eyes fixed on him.

  “You could still kick me out.” The shock in her voice gave it unexpected strength. “Why aren’t you?”

  He had two choices, but only one option. “You could be crazy. You could be telling the truth. But it doesn’t harm me to check out both possibilities and get a confirmation either way, does it?” But Nathan saw the answer didn’t quite satisfy her. “Because I don’t want you to leave.”

  The disbelief held in her face for another second. Then a brilliant smile lit her up, dispelling much of the sobriety that had shrouded her since he walked in. In a flash, Remy was straddling him, arms around his neck, hot mouth raining kisses across his brow and down to his jaw. “You have no idea how scared I was. I didn’t want to think last night was all in my head.”

  Nathan returned the embrace, happy to hold her. Whatever had happened during the night, they had both felt it. It wasn’t just a strong physical reaction. It wasn’t chemicals and blood reacting to certain stimuli. Even now, even with no secrets between their bodies, he wanted to explore her with his mouth and hands, to be as close to her as possible, touch as much of her as he could, taste the salt on her skin.

  “We’ll get to the bottom of what happened to you,” Nathan promised around her hungry mouth. He still hadn’t ruled out the crazy option. He knew she could be caught in an elaborate fantasy. But hadn’t it been his job, his very life’s work, to gather evidence? To analyze, and verify, and investigate?

  But what if you’re wrong again? Remy seems handy with a knife. Do you want to risk it? Again?

  She broke from the kissing to twist and reach for the coin she’d discarded. “Let’s start with this one.” She pressed it into his palm. “This was the last one I took, and I dropped it right before everything went tits up. I stopped running, picked it up out of the grass, and the next thing I know, I’m here. It could be a coincidence, but at least it’s a place to start, right?”

  Nathan thought it was an excellent idea. The coin was the most distinctive of her little collection. It felt cool initially, but after a second, it began to warm. He pulled away before it became uncomfortable, but there was a distinctive pink circle on his flesh. Gingerly, he reached for it with his other hand and held it by the edges to inspect it more carefully. People would remember it, and if the dealers he spoke to didn’t know it, he had no doubt they’d be willing to do a bit of research for him. For a price.

  “Yeah, we’ll start there. We can start with the coin and antique shops. There’s an occult shop in Santa Monica. Might as well cover all our bases.”

  Remy seemed pleased with his suggestion, but before she expressed her support, a sharp knock on the door interrupted them. “Christ!” Nathan shouted. “What do you want now?” But he knew the answer as soon as he asked. He had never checked in with Isaac. “Oh hell.”

  “Does he do this every day?” Remy complained when he pushed her off his lap. “Because let me tell you, if he does? He needs to seriously get laid.”

  “No, he doesn’t do this every day. But he needs to get laid anyway.” Nathan opened the door with a guilty smile, but he didn’t expect Isaac to look quite so worried. �
��Did you bring bagels today?”

  The first thing Isaac did was look over Nathan’s shoulder. “Is that girl still here?” His voice was so hushed Nathan had to strain to hear him.

  “Yes.” One glimpse of Isaac’s face was all it took to know he wasn’t here on a social call. He wasn’t even here to talk about Tian. The deep furrows on his forehead and the lines around his bloodshot eyes said he had something far heavier on his mind. Nathan stepped out of the apartment and shut the door behind him. “What is it?”

  Rubbing his hand over his hair, Isaac sighed before answering. “You’ve got to let me take her in. Something’s going on, and until I get it figured out, I’ll sleep a hell of a lot better knowing she’s not anywhere near you.”

  Nathan’s heart stopped. He wanted to tell Isaac no, it wasn’t going to happen. All he mustered was a single word. “Why?”

  “Someone showed up at the precinct last night looking for her. Knew her name, knew what she looked like.” If it was possible, his eyes grew even more serious. “She even knew Remy had been with a British guy with an old Mustang two nights ago. At a gas station. Did you stop somewhere between the warehouse and coming home?”

  Nathan frowned. “Yes. We stopped for food at the 7-Eleven off Oak.” He leaned against the railing. “But how could anybody track us to that particular gas station and not, say, the one across the street? Isaac, what was this woman’s name? Was it Kirsten?”

  It was his friend’s turn to frown. “How’d you know her name? Has she been around here?” He held up a warning finger before Nathan replied. “Don’t let her in again, if she shows. Her story isn’t checking. That’s part of what I’m trying to figure out.”

  Nathan almost laughed. Of course, Kirsten’s story wasn’t checking. It was probably just as farfetched as Remy’s. “No, she hasn’t been here. But somebody tried to slice and dice Remy, and she’s got the injuries to prove it. She claims a woman named Kirsten is responsible.” He thought about everything Remy had told him, picking out small details from each conversation. “She doesn’t know Kirsten is here. She thinks it’s over.”

  “Oh, it’s not over. I haven’t seen anyone this determined to catch someone since Tian slipped through your fingers the first time.” Isaac’s gaze grew speculative. “She was good, I’ll give her that. I almost didn’t check her creds, she was so convincing. Everything she said seemed to fit. How Remy was part of a gang back in D.C. How dangerous she was. Good with weapons. The only thing that didn’t fit was she didn’t even mention those coins you showed me yesterday. That’s why I checked her out.”

  Nathan thought every word Kirsten told Isaac was the truth. It made sense. Remy’s insistence that she “didn’t damsel,” her references to the safe house, the way she didn’t hesitate to attack Cesar, even going as far as to apologize for not getting both of them. Remy was no stranger to violence.

  “I can’t let you take her in, Isaac. But you’re right. We need to figure out what’s going on before we get caught in the crossfire.” Nathan shifted the topic to something safer. “Things did not go as planned last night. Tian knew right where to find me.” He shook his head. “And I know what you’re thinking. It wasn’t Remy.”

  “And you’re sure of this because…?”

  “She put a knife in Cesar’s back instead of my throat.”

  The announcement caught Isaac by surprise, his shoulders lifting for the first time since arriving. “You’re kidding me.” When Nathan shook his head again, Isaac whistled low under his breath. “Nobody’s got a piece of Cesar in years. How the hell did she do it?”

  “Quietly. Cesar and Tian were more caught up in taunting me than paying attention to their surroundings. She was practically on top of them when she threw the knife. They had backup in a nearby car. As soon as Cesar went down, they fled. I imagine one of their goons saw me in the parking lot and tipped them off.”

  Isaac’s eyes flickered to the closed door. “This doesn’t make me feel any better about her, you know. I thought we’d learned our lesson with Susanna.”

  Nathan paused, the full weight of Isaac’s concern finally hitting him. Isaac never spoke her name, if he could help it. Neither of them did. “I know. But I don’t know what to do. I’ve thought more about her in the past twenty-four hours than I have in the past two years. I wish I could tell you to just trust me on this, but we both know you don’t have any reason to.”

  “If it was anything but a girl, you know I’d trust you without hesitating.”

  His voice was low, his tone resigned. When he moved next to Nathan to lean against the railing as well, though, he couldn’t quite meet Nathan’s eyes. Both of them were too busy staring at the apartment, both of them lost in thoughts about the woman on the other side of the wall. “Want to tell me what it is about this one? Other than the obvious reasons, of course.”

  “I don’t know.” Nathan would have liked nothing more than to tell Isaac why he was willing to take such a huge chance on Remy. He longed to describe the conversation they had just had, and his reaction to her announcement. He wished he could tell somebody what happened, somebody who could make sense of what was going on. “I don’t know. I felt something with her last night I haven’t…it’s like I already knew her on some level. Knew who she was. Which doesn’t help my case, I know.”

  Isaac didn’t answer, but Nathan didn’t know what he could have said under the circumstances anyway. Together, they continued to regard the closed door, neither seemingly willing to move.

  “Would you at least let me run her prints? Someone like that has to exist someplace, even if Kirsten Henryk isn’t telling me the whole story about where.”

  There was no reason not to agree. “We can have a Live Scan done this morning. She won’t like it, but she’s going to have to deal with it, I guess. You find out what you can about her prints and Kirsten Henryk, and I’ll see what I can learn from Remy this afternoon. We’ll compare notes tonight. Oh. I also have a good sample of blood. You can take it in and see what the lab says.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Pushing away from the rail, Isaac gave him one last lingering look before heading toward the stairs. “We can meet for dinner at the Barn. It’s all you can eat rib night. Bring Remy.” He paused, one foot on the first step. While his tone was light, his eyes were not. “And try not to get yourself killed before then.”

  Isaac only made it a couple stairs before stopping and turning. “One more thing. Turns out, the way Remy talks is an East Coast thing. Kirsten Henryk called something ‘royal’ when we were talking.” He shrugged. “Guess you learn something new every day.”

  “I guess so,” Nathan was tempted to tell Isaac it wasn’t an East Coast thing at all. But he couldn’t get into that, not right now. “Funny we never heard it before.”

  “Oh, it’ll probably turn up out here sooner or later. They probably picked it up from a TV show we never have time to watch.” Isaac resumed going down the stairs. “See you tonight.”

  Nathan nodded, watching as Isaac took the stairs two a time, then disappeared around the corner. His head was spinning, and he needed to be alone, to have a bit of quiet to piece everything together. But that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Before he could even consider having a quiet moment to himself, he needed to tell Remy about Kirsten.

  Chapter Eight

  Remy couldn’t get Kirsten out of her head. Ever since Nathan had come back inside after talking to his cop friend, she’d been consumed with worry about how this would change things, how it could have happened, why she couldn’t manage to catch a break no matter what she did. When he asked to let Isaac print her, she agreed without hesitation. It would be one more reason for him to believe her story when nothing came back as a match.

  It didn’t ease her anxiety about Kirsten, though. Even knowing she had Nathan sticking up for her with Isaac, Remy couldn’t get away from the very real fear that things were going to go from bad to catastrophic as soon as Kirsten found her.

  Once they left
the police station, Nathan angled the Mustang toward Santa Monica and the tiny occult shop he thought might be their best bet in discovering the origins of the coin. He had been quiet ever since telling her about Kirsten, and the silence was beginning to wear. Though she didn’t want to bother him any more than she already had, the fact he could be sitting there, making judgments about her that were very likely valid, gnawed at Remy’s stomach. She wanted to know what he was thinking. Did he believe her? Did he trust her? Did he think this was all some kind of gift?

  She couldn’t ask. She had already asked for too much.

  An accident slowed traffic to a crawl. The air within the car grew heavier with each passing minute, until finally, Remy couldn’t take the confusion of her thoughts any longer. “So how long have you known Isaac?” she asked, shifting in her seat to face Nathan. Conversation about anything that wasn’t Kirsten could only be good.

  “I guess it’s been about twelve years now.” He sounded as if he couldn’t quite believe that much time had passed. “We were partners for seven years, until I quit the force.”

  She was dying to ask him why he quit, but the tight set of his mouth and the memory of how he’d reacted the last time the subject had come up had Remy stomping that urge into the dust. Instead, she smiled and swept her gaze over him in a frank appraisal.

  “And how does a British guy get to be a cop?”

  Nathan shrugged. “It’s not a terribly interesting story, though I never planned to be a cop. My father married an American when I was fifteen. Candace was in London on a temporary work assignment, and when she returned to the States, she brought us with her. My mother was American too, so I already had dual citizenship. Once I turned eighteen, I decided to stay in California for school. I developed an interest in sociology, which led to criminology.”

  It might not have been interesting to him, but the prospect of living overseas had fantasies tumbling inside Remy’s mind faster than the images could settle. Already, this was better than brooding on Kirsten. “Are they still around? Or did your old man whisk her back to jolly old England?”