Did Kateri get points for guessing an “A” month? “Did I miss it again? I mean, I’m a lousy friend and I wanted to make up for my negligence so I bought you this great…” she gestured at the package.
“Thank you, Kateri Kwinault, and I will open it now.”
“No. Come on. I need to wrap it…” Kateri watched as Rainbow tromped—yes, tromped—over to the box, picked it up, and carried it to the breakfast bar. “Okay, it’s not a present. It’s something from—”
“Baltimore. Your father. I can read the postmark, you know. You’d think a high roller like him would send packages FedEx overnight.”
“You’d think.” Kateri watched morosely as Rainbow ripped all the tape away from the package, pulled out the textured black box, and raised the lid.
Lacey subsided on her bed, put her head on her paws, watched the two women as if puzzled by the tension.
Rainbow looked inside and gasped. “Wow. Wow, this is … gorgeous. I’ve never seen anything like it. You know what it is?”
“A raven, right?”
“A raven?” Rainbow sent an incredulous glance at Kateri. “A piece of art! Nineteenth-century black cast iron, eighteen inches tall, weighs”—she lifted it from the box, unwrapped it from the bubble wrap—“a hefty twenty pounds.”
“Been watching Antiques Roadshow?”
“That. And my parents are artists. Textile artists, but they know their way around the field.” Rainbow placed the statue on the counter and stepped back. “Look at those eyes. They watch. They know. This is brilliant.”
Kateri remembered how the raven watched, what the raven knew. She remembered being transfixed by that fixed, beady-eyed gaze.
“Ravens are great Native American icons of magic and transformation. Your father must have sent it to you because—”
Kateri interrupted. “It’s got nothing to do with Native American culture. This is Edgar Allan Poe’s raven.”
Hand on chest, Rainbow staggered back. “The raven?”
“Evermore.” It was almost funny to see Rainbow’s awe.
“So not just art. Art with a history. This thing must be worth—”
“A lot.” Memory swamped her. Don’t touch that, Katherine. It’s not a toy. It’s valuable, it’s been in this well-respected family for a hundred years, and you are … Just don’t touch it.
Rainbow checked the postage again. “At least he insured it. Generous gift. You going to call him and thank him?”
“No.”
“Someday you’re going to have to let go of your father issues.”
“No.”
“Hm.” That single word held a world of judgment. Rainbow looked around Kateri’s tiny living room. “Where are you going to put it?”
“Back in the box to send it back.”
“Right.” Kateri had never told Rainbow—had never told anyone—about her time in Baltimore, but Rainbow knew better than to argue. “What about the photo album?”
Kateri froze. Her lips barely moved. “What photo album?”
From the bottom of the box, Rainbow lifted an old-fashioned leather-bound photo album with black pages and stick-on photo corners. She opened to the first page. “Family photos. Wow. I took that picture. Your dad and your mother. At the beach. She looks so happy.”
Disbelief. Anguish. Rage. Her father had sent Kateri that? The bastard. In a guttural tone, Kateri said, “Get rid of it.”
Lacey lifted her head and growled.
Kateri’s voice rose. “Get rid of the whole thing. The raven. The album!”
Hackles raised, Lacey raced to stand between Kateri and Rainbow, then looked between them, obviously bewildered. She knew Rainbow. She liked Rainbow. Why was she protecting Kateri from Rainbow?
“Don’t you want to see…?” Rainbow saw Kateri’s expression. “No. You don’t. So … send it back?”
Kateri’s chest hurt. “Throw it away. Dump it.”
Rainbow looked into the open album, then back up at Kateri. In obvious distress, she said, “Listen, I’ll take it, keep it until you—”
“Leave it here.” Kateri put on a pleasant face, moderated her voice, called her dog to her side, and leaned down to rub her ears. “I’ll … deal with it.”
“Right.” Rainbow shut the photo album, plopped it in the bottom of the box, wrapped up the raven and placed it on top, put the lid back on. She took the box back to its spot beside the couch, grabbed the pizza and beer, and brought them to the kitchen counter. She managed to sound almost prosaic when she asked, “Want to hear what happened with Luis and Mr. Caldwell or not?”
That was Kateri’s cue to be normal. And be normal she would. If she didn’t, Rainbow would start talking about cleansing Kateri’s aura with crystals to remove the poisonous hate that corroded her soul. There had been times when that hate had given her backbone, kept her alive. “Sure. Let me get the plates.” She gave Lacey one last pet and urged her toward her cushion on the kitchen floor. “So Luis and Mr. Caldwell took it outside and…?”
“Deputy Bergen came out of city hall and across the street at a run—”
“How did he hear about it?”
“I called him. Jeez, like we need your Coastie boyfriend in jail just when the affair is getting interesting.”
Automatically Kateri said, “We’re not having an affair.”
“Whose fault is that? Anyway, Bergen towed Mr. Caldwell away. Mr. Caldwell was shouting at him.”
Kateri began to relax and so did Lacey. “Poetic justice. I hope Bergen and his slimy campaign manager are at loggerheads.”
“Luis didn’t come out looking too well, either. Insulting people because they’re white!” Rainbow stuck out her freckled arm. “Look at that. Certified white bread!”
“Me—I don’t have to hate someone because of his language or his skin. There’re always enough assholes around I can hate people individually.”
“Truth. Get yourself something to drink.” Rainbow opened up the pizza. The garlicky scent got stronger and Kateri could see what looked like the most delectable margarita pizza ever. “This is from Sienna’s Sandwiches. She got a wood stone oven and now she’s making dough and gourmet pizzas.”
Kateri popped the top on a bottle of sparkling water and subsided on a bar stool. “Of course she is.” Luis’s former girlfriend hid gritty ambition behind a sunny disposition, a peaches-and-cream complexion, and a sweet smile.
“Hate isn’t a healthy emotion,” Rainbow warned.
“I don’t hate her”—exactly—“I simply don’t trust her.”
“Me, either.” Rainbow smirked. “I sure didn’t tell her I was sharing the pizza with you.”
One bite and Kateri admitted, “Good.”
“Could you say it more grudgingly?” Rainbow leaned forward into her juicy gossip position. “Have you heard Stag Denali is back in town?”
That brought Kateri up short. “I thought he was in prison for … something.”
“He was. For beating up some guy who insulted him. Or maybe for killing him.” Rainbow waved an airy hand. “After a couple of years, his lawyers got him released. He’s been out for a while, making money hand over fist.”
Stag was Native American, tall with a build that was, ironically, rawboned John Wayne-esque, with broad shoulders, narrow hips, and long, long legs. Which was about all anyone knew about him for sure. Rumor claimed he was from Alaska. Rumor also claimed he started his career young, moving up from bouncer to enforcer to the guy who developed casinos on the reservations and had connections to the mob.
Kateri sipped her sparkling water. “I haven’t seen him in years. Since I was a teen. Did I ever have a crush on him!”
“Join the club. Strip that man down to a loincloth, give him a hatchet, and he can scalp me anytime.… Was that racially insensitive?”
“Might have been, Miss Certified Pasty White.”
“He still looks good. Real good.”
“Glad you cleared that up.” Kateri was possibly more glad than she w
anted to admit. “Life being what it is, I figured he would develop a paunch.”
“He came into the Oceanview Café for pie and coffee. He looks like a man who works out every day … by running naked through the forest.”
“Insensitive again,” Kateri warned.
Rainbow grinned. “He likes me that way.”
“I don’t think Stag Denali has ever met a woman he didn’t like.”
“Yes, he’s one of the good ones. Do you still have a crush on him?”
“I don’t know. I’d have to see him again … running naked through the forest.”
Rainbow snorted beer out of her nose.
Kateri pumped her fist in victory and passed her a napkin.
When they settled down, they finished the pizza, and Kateri asked the question she hated to ask. “What’s Stag Denali doing in Virtue Falls?”
“He didn’t say.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“Of course I did. He just didn’t say.”
To Kateri, that sounded like trouble had come to town.
Her sense of disaster grew when she took a bathroom run, came out, and discovered Rainbow was gone—and so was the box from Baltimore.
Kateri felt as if an old bomb had started ticking toward detonation; perhaps it had always been there and she’d only now noticed.
* * *
Sunday, Luis took Kateri to the movies, bought her a box of Raisinets, and as promised, ate them all.
Monday they drove to the far end of town, grabbed food from Birdie’s Fish and Chips, climbed the sand dunes, and ate while watching Lacey chase the seagulls.
Tuesday after work he dropped by and took her and Lacey for a walk down to the marina, newly rebuilt since the tsunami and a burgeoning tourist attraction.
Wednesday it rained, which was okay because Natalie was released from the hospital and sent to a new foster home. Kateri found herself reassuring the terrified child; she promised to e-mail every day and call once a week forever or until Natalie no longer needed her. Then she went home and cried. When Luis showed up at her door she tried to send him away. He took one look at her tear-stained face, charged through the doorway, ordered pizza not from Sienna’s, sat on the couch, and held her while she told him too much about her childhood … but not all. Not nearly all.
That night he thoroughly kissed her, but he didn’t press for sex.
Thursday it rained again and it was her night on call, and she worked a fatal head-on collision. She was on the scene with ambulances and a cleanup crew until after ten, but she talked to Luis all the way home.
Friday evening he drove her and Rainbow to the resort, where they enjoyed a family dinner with Margaret and her granddaughter Patricia, Garik and Elizabeth, and their daughter. That night Luis wanted to come in and finish what they had started, and Kateri was tempted. So tempted. But she thought about the nosy neighbors, her race for sheriff, and the recent end of his relationship with Sienna, and she regretfully refused. He pointed out everyone in town knew they were dating. She agreed that was true. He said that if she kept holding him off, his reputation as a stud would suffer. She laughed, kissed him good night, and sent him on his way.
On Saturday, he called in the morning and chatted, suggested a few things they could do that evening, seemed perfectly at ease …
He never showed up. Kateri got angry, called Rainbow and complained that all he’d wanted from her was sex.
Rainbow was not sympathetic to Kateri’s grievance.
On Sunday, he didn’t call or appear. Kateri started to worry, but reasoned that if he’d been hurt, she was the sheriff and would be the first to know.
Monday she overslept; despite her own logic, all night she had been worried and wakeful. She walked into city hall and through an unusually silent and watchful patrol room and idly wondered if Bergen had called another press conference.
Mona was at her desk outside Kateri’s office, and she had that expression on her face, the kind that meant she was about to explode with nasty gossip.
Kateri knew better than to try to hold her off. So she stopped by Mona’s desk and waited.
Mona said nothing except a nervous, “Hi, Sheriff, hope you had a real good weekend.”
“Yes. Thanks. It was fine.”
“Good! Yep. Good. I’ll have last week’s reports typed up and sent to you before the morning is much older!”
Huh. It was Monday morning, and Mona was working. That could not be good.
“Is there more ugly news about the sheriff’s race?” Kateri asked.
“Gosh no, Sheriff. In fact, I know Mrs. Bergen is mad because Deputy Bergen hired Mr. Caldwell. She doesn’t like the old f … guy.”
Fascinating. “But Mr. Caldwell seems to be effective.”
“That’s for sure. The deputy is miles ahead of you in the polls.” Mona snapped her mouth shut as if even she had realized she’d been tactless.
Mona being worried about whether she hurt Kateri’s feelings. Definitely not good.
Kateri walked into her office. At once her gaze fell on a brown envelope wrapped with a shiny blue ribbon tied in a bow. It had been meticulously propped against the photo of her with the men of her Coast Guard command. Picking up the envelope, she noted her name was written in calligraphy with sparkly blue ink.
The envelope, the ribbon, the calligraphy—to Kateri, they all said Sienna.
Kateri was pretty sure her week had taken a turn for the worse.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Someone was in the room with her.
In the middle of the night, Maddie woke and came to her feet. Her chair clattered and fell. Her heart raced and pounded. She spun in a circle, looking, seeking.
Nothing. The room was empty. No caped figure stalked her. No narrow eyes glinted in crazed pleasure. She was alone in her house.
She glanced at the clock. It was 1:15 A.M. She had been asleep two hours. More, maybe. Her butt hurt from sitting in that hard metal chair. Her arms had rested on the desk, her head cradled between them, and her shoulders ached from the awkward position. But she was alone. The trail of fingers across the nape of her neck was nothing but a terrifying dream.
Wait. At her dining room table. Who had turned that chair to face her? She hadn’t done it. She knew she hadn’t done it.
But maybe she had. She already knew that when she wrote, she was distracted. So maybe … maybe. Yes. She must have done it.
She stood and stretched. And saw a small piece of paper on the floor by the chair.
Reluctantly, she approached it. It looked like her drawing paper. Perhaps it had sailed off her desk and traveled on a wind current … although, of course, all the windows were shut and locked.
She picked it up, turned it over, and saw a sketch in pen and ink with a dark, menacing figure in a cape and hat.
But she had not drawn this. The style was primitive, the face had been painted with peach watercolor. And the eyes. Oh, God, the eyes. They glowed a sick, bright red.
With painful deliberation, she placed the paper on the dining table.
He had been in her house while she slept. He had been watching her. He had seen the monster she drew and he knew now she could identify him.
She sat down at the table and put her head in her hands. Why was he doing this? He could have killed her while she slept. Instead he cruelly tormented her. For what purpose? Why did he wish her to live in constant debilitating fear?
She wanted to call the police, to tell them, show them her evidence. But then everyone would know what her monster looked like, and she would be even more vulnerable.
She needed more sleep.
She couldn’t have sleep.
So she needed to eat. Standing, she went to the refrigerator and pulled out a beribboned box from Sienna’s Sandwiches. She had bought it earlier today. Right now, she wasn’t hungry, but she knew a cookie waited inside; her favorite, apricot nut oatmeal.
She deserved that cookie.
Setting the box on the counter, s
he slowly untied the shimmering blue ribbon at the top. She loved doing that; she loved the ritual involved, knowing when she opened the box, she would see the careful arrangement of sandwich, salad, and cookie. She eased the tabs apart, pulled back the flaps, and exposed the …
Maggots.
Hundreds of white maggots writhing on the bread, the cookie. The top had popped off the salad, and maggots used the macaroni like an amusement park, crawling in and out and …
Maddie screamed. She screamed. She swept the box off the counter and screamed. Never taking her eyes off the maggots, she ran backward, bumped into the edge of the table, bruised her hip. Hit one of the chairs and knocked it over. Still staring, whimpering now, she wiped at herself.
Had she touched them? Did she have any maggots on her?
Turning, she ran into the bathroom and washed her arms to the elbow. She soaped again and again, trying to get the sensation of white, crawly things off her skin. Then she dried, scrubbing herself with the towel, tossing it into the garbage, and using another towel.
Going to the phone, she dialed 911.
The dispatcher said, as she always did, “Please state the nature of your emergency.”
“Maggots. Maggots on my sandwich. And the chair turned wrong. And a sketch—someone was in my house!”
In a weary, patient voice, the dispatcher said, “So you’re reporting an intruder, Madeline Hewitson? Again?”
“Yes. Yes!” Maddie could not take her gaze away from the spilled contents of the box. “Maggots. The chair. The sketch. He was here!”
“Would you like me to send out a law officer?”
“Yes. Yes! Why else would I be calling?”
“It will be a few minutes. Please don’t disturb the crime scene.”
“I’m not touching those maggots,” Maddie fervently assured her.
“The officer should be there soon.”
“Thank you.” A knock on the door. “There he is now.” She hoped. She dropped the phone, looked out the peephole.
Jacob. In the circle of her porch light, Jacob stood clad in cutoff khaki shorts and a stained and wrinkled T-shirt. He was staring at the peephole and he mouthed, What’s wrong?
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