“He’s got a point,” Rocke said with a nod. “But on the other hand, is there any way we could find out?”
“Is there a reason you two are worried about this when some who-knows-what just chewed the hell out of my herd?” Felix asked. Rocke pointed at the map.
Felix stepped over to the map, and his eyes widened as he looked at it. “Nice,” he said with a small whistle. “Really nice. I don’t think I’ve ever seen something like this. Are these all the attacks?” He touched the base of this can on some of the circles.
“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “Notice how they move south?”
“Yeah.”
“Check the dates for when the mining company bought up their land.”
“Aw, hell.” Apparently he’d seen it. “So every time there’s been a chupacabra attack—”
“Has been one of the years the company’s moved south,” Rocke said, finishing his sentence. “We just noticed it. It happens every time the mine moves, within the same year. It’s too big a coincidence to ignore.”
“Can’t be the case here,” Felix said, shaking his head. “We haven’t done anything this year.”
“Unless the survey teams are the tipping point, not the actual buying of the property,” I said.
Felix thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, that would make sense. I’m not on one of those teams myself, but they do some drilling and stuff when they’re checking areas for deposits. That could have done it. Or maybe the active shafts got too close to the edge. We’ve got tunnels that extend right up to the border.” He stepped back, glancing down at the map, his eyes seeming to take the whole thing in. “So all this time, the company might have been causing all this.”
“Maybe that was why Henderson wouldn’t let us into the mines,” Rocke said, leaning forward on his hands, staring at us across the table. “He knew, and he knew what would happen if we found out.”
“Now hold on,” Felix said, raising his voice. “If he knew, why wouldn’t he just tell us?”
“Felix is right,” I said, nodding. “It wouldn’t make any sense for him to deny it. Besides, if he did know about it, he’d be better off trying to catch one of the chupacabras then hiding everything.”
“That’s a good point,” Rocke said with a nod. “But it still doesn’t explain why he wouldn’t let us into the mines.”
“I’m more interested in learning what killed every last one of my animals,” Felix said. “You said it yerself, there ain’t a chupacabra in existence that could have done all that.”
“It’s connected somehow,” Rocke said, glancing back down at the map. “All of it. Trust me, Felix. We just have to put the pieces together or find more. We just have to see it.”
* * *
“Are you all right?”
Rocke’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts, making me look up from my eggs and hash browns. “Sorry, what?”
“Are you all right?” Rocke asked again, giving me a hard stare. “You’ve been pretty quiet. It’s not exactly you.”
“I’m tired.” I scooped up a forkful of eggs and took a bite, barely tasting the warm yolk as it ran across my tongue.
“No, I’ve seen you tired.” Rocke said, setting his fork on the edge of his plate. “This isn’t you tired. Your casual attitude is gone, and you’ve hardly said a word since we left Felix’s place. So, are you alright?”
“Why ask a question you already know the answer to?” My response got a half-smile in return.
“Fair enough. What’s on your mind?” Rocke asked, leaning forward and staring right at me. I gave him a shrug.
“Well, I wasn’t lying when I said I was tired,” I said. “But I’ve got to be honest, I’m a little worried. Hunting a chupacabra is one thing, and sure, even dealing with whoever decided to leave you out in the desert. But now? I deal with animals all day, Rocke. I’ve got to admit I’m not keen on tangling with a necromancer again.” Rocke opened his mouth, and I held up a finger, dropping my fork into my eggs as I did.
“But you know, here’s the thing,” I said as I grabbed a napkin and started wiping off the utensil. “I was totally looking forward to a nice, relaxed vacation. I’m not some adventurer, and that’s all there is to it.” I speared a slice of bacon on my newly cleaned fork and popped it into my mouth, flavor exploding across my tongue. “If it were up to me …” I started, chewing through my food and forgetting about decorum for the moment. Bacon was bacon.
“If it were up to me,” I said again, pausing to swallow, “I wouldn’t be involved in this. I’m animal control, and I think what’s going on here is a little more up your alley than mine. That said, as much as this isn’t my kind of thing, the last time I got tangled up with you I took down a Horror with an axe.” I shrugged and grabbed a forkful of eggs. “So I figure that first, no matter how much it’s not my thing, I’m still capable of dealing with it. Secondly, you asked me to. And third, I’d be a real disappointment if I just let you hunt for whatever this is all on your own.”
For a moment Rocke just fixed me with a level gaze, then he just shook his head and let out a little laugh. “And here I was all set to tell you that I’d be fine if you wanted to leave. Somehow, you’ve got me feeling like I’d be less the noble friend and more of a selfish ass if I did. How’d you do that?”
I chuckled and picked up another piece of bacon. “Same way I got you to come over to my house after that necromancer business.” For a moment all I could hear was the crunch of fried pork as it broke apart in my mouth—not that I needed to hear anything else since hey, bacon. I tilted the remaining half of the slice at Rocke and gave him a grin. “Guilt.”
“So that’s what this is,” Rocke said, staring down at his plate and then looking around the diner with wide eyes, as if he was seeing the world for the first time. “Guilt. Is that what made me take up Sudoku too?”
The bacon stopped halfway to my mouth as I cocked an eyebrow. “You? Sudoku?” I bent forward, leaning over my plate and staring at his weathered face. “Are you really Jacob Rocke?” I let out a chuckle as he shook his head.
“Well, you said I needed another hobby past keeping my guns shiny, making bullets and skulking around in alleys all night,” Rocke said with a shrug. “So I got one.”
“But Sudoku?”
“Hey, I like it, all right? I’ve filled three books in the last year.”
“Three books?”
“It gives me something to think about aside from, well, the usual. It’s relaxing. I did a whole book while I was in Hawaii.”
That answer boggled my mind even more. “You were in Hawaii?” I tried to picture him lying on a beach somewhere, clad in a bathing suit and a brightly-colored, floral print shirt, a coconut shell drink clasped in one hand and a book of Sudoku puzzles in the other. It wasn’t working. Just trying made my head hurt.
“Yeah,” Rocke said. “That’s where my favorite graveyard is.”
He laughed as I almost coughed up my eggs.
“I’m serious,” he said, holding up his hands as I gave him a suspicious look. “Ever gone someplace where you would normally be really busy and not have to do anything? There’s a cemetery on the north end of Oahu that’s perfect. The residents are nice and calm, and there aren’t any crazy Unusuals trying to eat my face. It’s nice.”
I managed to keep my face straight for a moment, but then I burst into deep, belly laughter, Rocke following suit. “Never mind,” I managed to say as soon as I’d caught my breath back. “You’re definitely still the one and only Jacob Rocke.” I reined my voice in as I saw a few faces glance our way. Everyone seemed all right with the outburst, but you never could tell.
“Yeah, I’m the one and only,” Rocke said, pausing to take a swig of his orange juice. “Of course, the question now is, what does the one and only me—and you—do?”
I nodded as the conversation swung back to seriousness. “I’m not quite sure myself, to be honest. Although …” I paused as an idea I’d had earlier snuck back
into my mind. At the time, I’d dismissed it because of what I’d noticed next, but now?
“You know,” I said, picking up the last slice of bacon from my plate. “There was a thought I had before I noticed the timing of the mine’s expansions.”
“Shoot.”
“The Wraith.”
“The Wraith?”
“The NSAU spook never asked anyone about the Wraith?” I asked, one eyebrow going up.
Rocke shook his head. “I saw a little on it, but I hadn’t read into it. Native American legend, right?”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “What do you know?”
“Mysterious figure or force said to be responsible for people that go missing … in the desert. Huh.” His head dropped, resting on one hand as he rubbed his thumb across his stubble. It made a faint rasp, not unlike sandpaper being pulled across a car door. It was one of the more annoying sounds I’d heard all morning. “Yeah,” he said, mercifully dropping his hand. “You’re right. That is a fairly good comparison to what we’ve been seeing here.”
“Except until now, no one who’s disappeared has done so while in town,” I said. “They’ve all vanished while out in the desert, and everyone just attributes it to the hostile climate.”
“They found Jefferson’s car out in the desert,” Rocke said, his thumb moving across his chin once more, the rasp making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“We found you out in the desert, too,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, but I was tied to a chair and beaten,” Rocke said, shrugging. “I don’t think whatever was in Felix’s pasture this morning took the time to soften them up.”
“But you’re agreeing it could be an idea?” I asked, forking another bite of eggs into my mouth.
“It makes about as much sense as it can,” Rocke said, frowning. “People disappearing over the years, blamed on the desert. Only now they’re disappearing right out of the town.”
I swallowed. “So why leave some bodies and take others? I mean, why was Mrs. Fimmlewit still in her house, but the woman this morning gets abducted? What’s the connection with everyone that’s vanished so far?” I paused as Rocke held up his hand, turning his head away from the table. I followed his gaze, recognizing a distinct lack of noise as I did so. The entire diner had gone silent, and everyone was staring in our direction. Some were fixing us with flat stares, while others—even the waitress—looked as if they wanted to bolt.
“You know,” Rocke said, speaking out of the corner of his mouth but not taking his eyes off the crowd. “Maybe we should discuss what are very clearly and obviously theories of an unverifiable nature in someplace a little less public?”
I nodded and took my last bite of egg, finishing the plate. “Yeah, I think you’re right.” I pulled out my wallet and tossed a fifty on the table, hopefully enough to cover both our meals and a hefty tip. “Sorry about that,” I said to the crowd as we gathered our meager belongings. “It would be just like us to forget what polite breakfast conversation is.”
And with that, eyes on our backs, we left the diner.
Chapter 17
“Hi, you’ve reached the office of—” I pulled my head away from the phone as the perky recorded voice began to tell me, for the third time, what university I’d called and what department I’d just reached. Robotic phone systems. The way of the future.
My fingers made a faint, harmonic thrum against the steering wheel as I rolled them down the side, waiting for the bot to finish her introduction and give me the extension I needed. Cool air rushed across my face; I’d left the engine running even though I was in park. I figured that I might be sitting there for a while, but it was starting to make me feel cold. I was halfway tempted just to roll down the window, but there was still enough of a sandy feel behind my eyelids that I was afraid the combination of sitting in a comfortable seat with warm air blowing over me would put me right to sleep. So the car stayed on.
Rocke and I had done some talking after we’d left the diner, and we’d decided to split up to maximize our effectiveness at information gathering, which we’d agreed we needed. At the moment, there were just too many unknowns, too many questions we didn’t have answers for. Rocke was certain that everything was related somehow, but at the moment neither he nor I could say how. I was still having difficulty seeing it as all tied-together.
Rocke had volunteered to head to the library for a dedicated search on everything associated with the Wraith and the town’s missing persons problem over the years. He was also going to contact the NSAU and a few old colleagues to try and get some idea of what the Wraith might actually be, if it existed. And if it didn’t, what might have sliced up all of Felix’s cows instead.
My task, on the other hand, was a bit more down to earth. We needed every scrap of info we could get, so I was back at the museum, this time ready to do what I’d been advised to do days ago: “Interrogate” Charlie until I had every scrap and story he knew about the Wraith. Not that it would be that hard. From what I’d seen, it wouldn’t take much effort to get him moving on that topic.
“If you’d like to be connected with one of our professors, please press three now—” The phone let out a long beep as I held the key down. “Thank you,” the cheerful voice on the other end responded. “For Professor Cummel, press one. For Professor Ford, press—”
I hit two before the perky voice could finish speaking, only to be rewarded with a faint click as the other end of the line went right to a message machine. “Hi, you’ve reached the office of Professor Ford—”
“Dang it,” I muttered as the message continued with its standard “I’m not in right now” routine. I shook my head, right up until the moment my ears tuned into the rest of the message.
“—if you’d like to reach me on my personal cell, please call—” I scrambled to write the number down, settling for using the back of a napkin I’d grabbed from the diner and barely managing to get the digits down before the message switched over to “leave a message after the tone.”
I hung up and quickly dialed Ford’s cell. Tracking down Ford and finding out exactly why he’d been allowed into the mines had been the other part of my assignment. Or asking him whether the museum exhibit on his “expedition” had been wrong.
“Hello?” The voice on the other end of the line picked up before the first ring had even finished, and I almost dropped my phone in surprise. “Hello?” he asked again. It was clear-toned and well educated, almost British.
“Ah, yes, hello?” I said, giving my head a quick shake to clear it. “Am I speaking with Professor Ford?”
“Indeed you are,” came the response. “The question is now who I am speaking with?”
“My name is Hawke Decroux,” I said “And I’m a shaman working a case out in Silver Dreams.”
“Oh!” Ford sounded enthused. “How is that place? I liked it there. Might retire there, in fact. Loved that little town, so bright and warm.”
“Yeah, it is,” I said, hoping that he wouldn’t be a rambler. “Anyway, I was calling because I had some questions about your expedition here, the one from several years ago?”
“Of course. What do you want to know?”
“Well, first of all, I was wondering whether you’d been allowed to go onto land the mining company out here owned.”
There was a long pause.
“Well of course we were,” Ford said at last. “How else would we have been able to look through their siftings?”
“Siftings?”
“We examined the scrap minerals from their mining operation, looking for signs of ancient American culture. We also looked at a lot of their old mineshafts, looking for evidence of—”
“So they let you into the old mineshafts?” I asked.
“Of course they did.” Ford sounded shocked that I’d suggest otherwise. “There could’ve been traces down there.”
“Sorry, but traces of what?”
“The Aztec mining operation, of course!”
I
shook my head, confused. “Hang on. The display in the museum didn’t say anything about an ancient Aztec mine. It said it was an outpost.”
“Well, yes. A mining outpost. Why else would they have expanded so far north? The Aztecs wanted precious metals, so they went looking for them. At least, that’s how I see it.”
“So you never found any evidence of there actually being an outpost?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that. We never found anything concrete enough to get our funding extended, but we did find a few chunks of obsidian that looked as though they might have come from sacrificial knives.”
“Were they?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “No,” Ford said at last, sounding bitterly disappointed. “No, they were not. They were almost certainly blades of some kind; we proved that. Still sharp too, but they weren’t from sacrificial knives. I’m not even certain they were Aztec—maybe someone traded for the obsidian—but they were definitely sharp.”
“Huh,” I said. “And you said that you found this stuff in the mines?”
“The knives? Oh no, not at all. One was in a cave off of an old mine, and the other two were found above ground, while we were surveying the south end of the valley. We were working our way south, you see and—”
“Did you make survey reports?” There was an irritated snort from the other end of the line.
“Are you going to continue cutting me off or are you going to let me talk?”
‘Sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m a little tired, and I made a connection that—You know, never mind. So you were heading south?”
“Yes, gradually,” Ford said, his voice back to its pleasant tone. “We could move much faster over land, simply because it was easier for us to make our way to where we wanted to be. The mineshafts were slower going—mostly because it was slightly hazardous, I suppose—but in the end, it didn’t matter. We never found anything more than those knives.”
“I see,” I said. “And what about your assistants? Did any of them stay here after you left?”
“Not initially,” Ford said. “But one of them did take a job there after he graduated.”
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