Salvage: A Shadow Files Novel

by A. J. Scudiere

  As she held it in her hand though, she realized her first thought had been incorrect. One, only her phone was buzzing. Had it been Westerfield, he would have likely called all three of them on the same line to begin with. Walter and Christina looked at her oddly and that was when GJ saw the second thing: the name and picture on the front of her phone indicated it was her grandfather.

  With wide eyes and a stunned heart, she held it up showing the other two. "What do I do?"

  "You talk to him," Christina said. "Shray Menon doesn't know your grandfather’s on the phone and he can't hear out here. You can have an entirely separate conversation with Dr. Marks." Christina said it as though she understood that what she did would mess with people's minds. That they wouldn't necessarily remember things correctly even if they'd been told what happened in the end. But GJ was shaking her head.

  "No. I mean, why don't Eleri and Donovan have him? Shray said he went back. I assumed that was to the lab. How did they miss him?” She took a breath and watched as Walter and Christina realized that she couldn’t answer the phone. Why wasn’t her grandfather already in custody? She wasn’t supposed to have to deal with this, too.

  Suddenly it hit her. She didn’t want to be the one to bring him in. She didn’t want to be the one who trapped him so someone else could. It was already killing her to have Shray strapped to a chair in the other room. Sure, he was apparently a killer, and that changed everything. It twisted her memories of being out on digs with her grandfather, with Shray at their side. More than once, when she was small, he’d carried her when she was too tired to walk. He patiently answered her questions when she was too young to realize she was being a pest.

  If her superpower was science, then her grandfather and Shray were the reason NightShade had recruited her in the first place. That—for her very first assignment—she should have to lock them both up was the ultimate stab in the back. To them, and to her. She didn’t want to do it.

  But she couldn’t not do it. No matter how she loved them both—and she did—she couldn’t leave them out there. They were killers. They believed in genocide. And she didn’t want to face it. It was now, as her phone rang, that she realized she’d at least believed she was off the hook with her grandfather. She’d truly believed Eleri and Donovan would find and arrest him and all she’d have to do was acknowledge that he’d gotten himself caught. Instead, she was going to have to play the bait in the trap. It was her grandfather. This was going to break her.

  “So what do I say?” she asked them, pointing at the phone as her spirit started to crack and peel.

  “Shit, shit, shit." She muttered it under her breath. She'd been ready to walk in, she'd been prepared to have another go at Shray. She had a list of information that she intended to get. Now, at the last moment, she was screwed.

  The phone rang one last time and went silent as it went to voicemail. GJ let her arm fall slack as though she'd messed it all up and missed it, but it was Christina who shook her head as though reassuring her there were other opportunities.

  "What does your grandfather know?" Christina asked. As always, once again, she was taking the role of senior partner, but only for a moment. "He doesn't know we have his assistant, right?"

  "Right," GJ and Walter both answered at the same time.

  Then GJ filled it in. It was getting more complex by the second and she didn't like any of it. "He knows that I've been in the basement. He knows that I've been in his lab, and apparently he's known for months now and he's let me do it. What he doesn't know is that I know he knows."

  Good God, she sounded like one of the corny old western spoofs, but Walter and Christina didn't seem to get the joke. They only nodded at her and agreed. It was important to keep straight who knew what when she spoke to them. That was a Quantico lesson—week three.

  "We'll take a minute, we'll figure this out, and then we'll have you call him back. Because if he can give us information we can use with that man in there, that's going to help us wrap all of it up. What do we need to do on the phone call with your grandfather?"

  "We need to know more about the network," Walter offered. Her tone flat, though her pace sounded a little like she was excited.

  They'd intended to get that information out of Shray and GJ didn't know what she could possibly say to her grandfather to ask for that.

  "How? He doesn't know that I understand what these people can do, let alone that I'm here. He doesn't know that I'm with the FBI." She saw the looks on their faces. She hadn't told her family and that was strange, she understood, but people didn't understand her family. She'd been born and raised a scientist. In their eyes, joining the FBI was only one step better than becoming a beat cop or an accountant or a day trader. There was nothing wrong with it, but it didn't fit in. She might as well have wandered off into an artist colony and lived at a commune making lint sculptures for all this was worth to them.

  Even her forays earlier into forensic science had been a strange version of following her grandfather. He’d always been the pure scientist, in it for the academics, and she could see that discipline in the traces of what he was doing now, if she looked for it. For herself, GJ had been in forensics in large part for justice. The FBI had already turned out to be a better fit than she intended, but she had yet to figure out how to explain it to those she loved.

  Christina and Walter took a moment to absorb that fact then offered small nods. They went forward, trying to pretend this was perfectly normal. GJ almost laughed again. There was absolutely nothing about her life right now that was anything even approaching normal.

  Once they’d decided together on the best information they could get from her grandfather, GJ made a motion to call him back, but Walter offered her flat palm for a moment, making her stop. Then her partner opened the door, made soft comments just beyond it, and suddenly GJ heard the mild noise in the background come to a stop.

  Good idea, Walter, she thought but didn’t say as she once more wiped her palms down her pants legs. No point in giving her grandfather any clues by way of background noise. This time when Walter nodded, GJ didn't even think, she just pushed the button before she lost her nerve. In a moment the line rang through. A second ring, and then he was there.

  "GJ, my love!"

  "Grandpa!" she said back. The relief in her voice was something she didn't have to fake. Still, she launched into the script they’d decided on.

  "Where are you? How was the Sorbonne?" She threw it in there as though she was just curious and giddy to know about his grand lifestyle. In truth, she had to sound like herself and yet ferret information out of him.

  "The Sorbonne was great," he told her. "One of their best-attended lecture series. I did three days."

  She forced a smile to her face as she wondered what else he’d been blatantly lying to her about. "That's fantastic, Grandpa. I can't wait to go with you next time."

  She wasn't sure if she was laying it on too thick or not, but the way she and her grandfather normally communicated, she didn't think so. Invitations to academic speeches were something he had intended for her to be getting these days, or at least sometime soon. It was just another bubble that was about to burst in her family.

  "Are you home?" she asked. "I have another weekend off from my internship coming up. I'd love to come out and be there when you're actually there."

  "Oh, I was. You just missed me," he said, sounding sad that they’d passed again. Was it genuine? She no longer knew. And she fought a little harder, wishing this could all be easier, wishing she’d caught him while he was in the lab. She’d already known that was unlikely since Donovan and Eleri had not yet checked in to say that they'd arrested him—or even that they’d found him.

  "Well, when are you going back?" she asked. "I'm sure I can rearrange a few things with my friends and my classmates. I should be able to skip a day here or there. It's just been so long since I was in when you were home." She didn't bother to comment that she had carefully arranged her own planning to make sure th
at she could get into the basement lab without interference—although ultimately, what good had it done? Her grandfather had known.

  He finally offered her something they could use, told her he was one state over, and she felt herself pause and stutter. Was he here? Had he been with Shray before the raid? Or had he possibly been one of the people outside? Could he have been in the trees and heard her on the bullhorn? Did he know she was flat out lying to him now?

  Hear heart stuttered a little as she asked, "Grandpa, where? Where are you? Which state?"

  "West Virginia. Police officers up here caught a case and I'm consulting. But we found the body this evening. I'm going to be doing a dry autopsy—they want a full forensic workup—tomorrow. I expect to be heading home by tomorrow night. Don't worry, I'll wait for you this time." She could hear the smile in his voice. It might be because he was getting to see her. It might be that he had an autopsy on the table waiting for him. It might all be a lie.

  She felt her own forced smile slip. "That would be great, Grandpa."

  GJ sighed out the words, knowing that her intention behind the sound was not the one he would likely be reading. West Virginia was safe, if it was real. It was far away. He might know that Shray was here and he might know what Shray had planned to do. He might even know that Shray had failed to check in or someone might have told him what had gone down. But it was also possible he didn’t know any of it. Unless someone here had reached out and specifically told him, he had no reason to believe that GJ was here. No reason to know she was FBI.

  She thanked him, told him she'd see him in a few days, and clicked off just moments before a howl of several wolves, all at once, rose up in the yard behind her.

  38

  Walter heard the howl of the wolves outside as she watched GJ's expressions change in rapid succession.

  "What the fuck are they doing?" she asked GJ and Christina, as though the other two might have the answer. She knew they didn't. With a slight movement of her hand, Walter pushed back the edge of the curtain ever so slightly and slowly slid her head over to get one eye staged for a look.

  Nothing. She couldn't see anything. It was dark, and she wasn't sure what she expected to find. She also didn’t think she could stand there long enough to let her gaze adapt. She was a target, even though most of her should be protected behind the wall.

  Letting the curtain fall shut, she turned to GJ and Christina again. "I told them not to go out like this.” As she shook her head at being disobeyed, both the other women looked at her.

  "I said it, too." Christina shrugged as though to ask, What were they going to do?

  Though Walter wanted the people in the house to run like a military machine, following commands as issued, she knew that was not going to happen. This just confirmed it.

  She held her FBI-issue Glock in her right hand, and had only noticed that she was doing it as she racked the slide and chambered a bullet. She was ready. But why were members of the family out there…like that?

  Unable to help herself, Walter once again pushed back the edge of the curtain and tipped her head in an attempt to get a glimpse. Again, she saw nothing. Though why she’d hoped for a better outcome, she had no idea.

  This time when the howl went up, she paid attention, trying to scope out distance and direction, since there was nothing for her to see. Again, she let the curtain fall and looked to the other two, desperately wanting to ask, What do we do? but not quite having it in her DNA to utter the words.

  "Okay," GJ said, the tone indicating that she was thinking, finished with wondering and returning to logic. "Why would they do this? None of them are dumb. Why would they go out like this?"

  "I don't know," Walter said. "They can't use any weapons. They have no opposable thumbs." She almost laughed but couldn't.

  Christina chimed in next. "They're supremely recognizable. The people out there will have absolutely no qualms about shooting to kill if they see a dog in the woods. It doesn't matter if it's an actual dog or wolf, or if it’s one of the family members. They'll shoot first and drag the carcass home later."

  Walter nodded in acknowledgement. "The hunters out there are locked and loaded with silver bullets and ready to shoot to kill. They won't hesitate." This was why GJ had started a conversation about what none of them could figure out. Just saying that gave Walter pause and she thought for a moment about it.

  "Do you think the hunters are still out there?" GJ asked.

  Walter answered without hesitation. "Of course, they are." She would never have left her own commander in a situation similar to this one. If anyone else on her team was held hostage, the furthest away the team got was however far away they needed to be to regroup. Once that happened, they would surge again. Walter was fully expecting a second attack tonight.

  "So," GJ offered again, the flat calmness back in her voice, "what are their advantages?"

  Again, the idea gave Walter pause. She judged them harshly. She’d told them not to go and they disobeyed, but they weren't her troops. She wasn't even technically in charge. She supposed she could pull rank, as the three of them were federal agents, but seriously, what could they do? This wasn’t an arrestable offense. These people were on their own land. And it wasn’t as if she could take them to court and say, "I told them to stay in the house, but they turned into dogs and ran outside."

  She didn't let her grip on the gun go lax. She clutched it in her right hand ready to aim and fire faster than a cowboy in the old west. Her finger rested on the trigger guard, just as she'd noticed so many of the de Gottardi-Little family members doing earlier in the day. At least they were well-trained. Walter was ready but she was thinking. Turning to GJ, she said, "Fangs. They have fangs."

  "True," GJ said, nodding. "They're powerful fighters. The problem is they have to get close enough for hand-to-hand, or fang-to-hand, and that's no match for a bullet. Go on."

  "Speed," Walter added. These guys were fast. She'd clocked Donovan at more than forty miles an hour. It was a short-burst run, but he told her he could keep the speed for quite some time. Hours if necessary. Walter didn't doubt him. Donovan wasn't prone to exaggeration. He was more prone to clocking himself and calculating averages to collect data in different seasons.

  GJ nodded. "Speed's good, but they can't outrun a bullet. What else?"

  "Fear," Walter replied. "This militia or organization seems to think the dog shapes are demonic in some way."

  "Maybe," GJ offered. "Maybe if they truly believe that, they'll want to not tangle with them. Except they came out here tonight specifically for the purpose of killing them."

  "Still..." Walter let her thoughts trail off.

  The more she turned it over, the more she realized maybe changing form wasn't the worst decision. Humans walked through the woods carefully placing feet, slow and steady, and eventually, it almost always happened that a twig snapped. Trolling her memories, she realized she couldn’t find a time that she’d ever heard Donovan approach. The dark color of his coat meant he could remain virtually unseen. Though his eyes often reflected light, everything else on him blended into the night seamlessly. Maybe they were on to something.

  "Okay," Christina hopped in then. "Let's assume they're not idiots. Let's assume they're out there in some kind of formation and doing something reasonable. Let's assume they're not just going to get themselves killed, or create a scenario in which we have to rescue them. All right, that assumption already on the table, why are they out there howling? What's out there right now?"

  "People," Walter said. "The hunters. The militia didn't leave. At least not all of them." The howling had died down in the distance, but it had tapered off, the way wolves do when they'd finished their cry, not as though they'd been interrupted by bullets or fighting. Walter had to believe that that was a valuable piece of knowledge, that the wolves were doing okay.

  It was GJ who posed the next question. "We also have to ask something entirely different. We have to think about the hunters. 'Why here?' 'Why now?'
"

  "What do you mean?" Walter asked. It was clear to her then that she still often thought like a Marine. She was thinking that way now, in terms of defense and offense, strategy and evasion. GJ was looking at a bigger picture, and Walter needed to do that, too. But it still felt obvious to her. “They came here and they killed Randall. And we’re here because they started that.”

  "Exactly," GJ said. "But why did they start it? And why here? Aren't there families like this all over the US? My grandfather has bones from India and China and Europe, some of them thousands of years old. Families like this have existed forever, at least as far back as we can count, it seems." Walter frowned as GJ launched into what appeared to be an anthropology lesson. They didn't have time for this. Maybe it was better to think about defense, offense, strategy, and evasion right now.

  But GJ seemed to already sense Walter's thoughts and she shook her head. "Are they currently mounting attacks on families all over the US? Just all over the Midwest? The Ozarks? What? Why the de Gottardi-Little family? Were they just an easy target? Because I don't buy that. I never knew that these people existed, and I've seen their bones since I was a child. I'm one of the few people who's constantly been exposed to evidence of them, and I have the background to figure out on my own that their bones went together and slid against each other in a way not like a standard, wild-type human build. Yet I still had no idea this existed until, God, three days ago.”

  It gave Walter pause, how quickly this had all gone down, how quickly it had all gone to hell.

  “Call Westerfield," Christina said. "Ring and ring until he answers. See if he knows anything."

  It hadn't occurred to Walter that she was allowed to pester her boss. She was used to being sent out on a mission and accomplishing it. She had a set of rules. She followed them. Sometimes she came back with a no answer, sometimes she came back with a yes. But she didn't simply dial up her boss and pester him in the middle of the night.