Mani was almost right when he said nothing could get me to leave. Nothing short of his death. The irony of this situation did not escape me. I was so out of my element and, if I was being honest, more than a little scared. I was committed to closing out Mani’s affairs, though. All of them. Even the ones I didn’t understand. His need for answers was now my need. My brother’s quest was the same expedition that brought me here, and I sensed it all intertwined with Mani’s death and my strange dreams.
If Mani ever found any answers, he never mentioned it to me, and there was nothing Mani didn’t tell me. It was up to me to find the connections, but I doubted my ability to meet the challenge. Especially if I had only one week to do it.
I closed the journal and smoothed the leather cover. It felt alive, warm from the heat of my hands. I put it back in its place on the bookshelf and turned my attention to the dull and less emotional task of emptying Mani’s closets. Who am I kidding? There’s no detail in this undertaking that isn’t emotional.
Sometime later my cell phone rang. I dug around and found it under a pile of discarded college T-shirts and raggedy jeans. “Hello?”
“Solina!” Val’s chipper voice instantly brought out my smile.
“How are you feeling today?” I asked, thinking of possible late-night partying side effects.
“I’ve been worse. How about you? I guess you made it home all right?”
“Actually, I ran into Thorin outside, and he insisted on walking with me.”
“I told you he’d make sure we all got home in one piece.”
“I think he did it because he wanted to warn me.”
“About…?”
“Getting caught up in Mani’s trouble.”
Val hesitated. Then he said, “Well, he has a point.”
I huffed. “It’s none of his business, but you didn’t call to talk to me about Thorin, did you?”
Val chuckled. “No. I wanted an excuse to hear your sweet voice.”
“Oh yeah?”
“And ask if you wanted to get dinner. A few of us from work are going into Anchorage to pick up supplies, and then we’re going to hang out for a while. Change of scenery, you know? You should come along.”
“I’ve still got a lot to do here.”
“One night, Solina. You can’t come all this way just to spend the whole time hiding in Mani’s apartment.”
Val’s sales pitch was convincing. I appraised the mess I had started in Mani’s apartment and surrendered to the temptation to escape the ghosts and indulge in a momentary distraction. “Okay. One night.”
“I’ll pick you up in about an hour,” Val said. “No backing out.”
Picking up supplies meant going by a big-box store to shop for mundane office provisions. “It gives us an excuse to get out of Siqiniq,” said Val when I asked why Thorin didn’t have stuff shipped straight to the store. Val picked me up in the company truck, and I squeezed onto the bench seat between him and Skyla, the kayaker. Hugh Rabe, the man who had offered to show me a good time at the bar the night before, took the backseat alongside a guy I hadn’t met yet. Val introduced him as Joe Muniz, a climber from Chile who specialized in scaling ice formations.
They entertained me by telling funny stories about Mani, their jobs, whiney clients, and weather catastrophes. By the time we got to Anchorage, finished shopping, and piled into a huge booth at Val’s favorite restaurant, they had transformed from strangers into friends.
“Margaritas!” Skyla demanded of our waiter. Pitchers of Dos Equis and neon-green cocktails appeared on the table beside baskets of chips and salsa.
“Where’s Thorin?” Hugh asked as he stuffed a chip into his mouth. “I thought he was coming into the city today. Didn’t he say he’d meet us here?”
“He sent a text,” Val said. “Said he’d be here any minute.”
I heaved a sigh. “And here I was having such a good time.”
Skyla choked on a sip of her drink. Hugh pounded her back until she caught her breath and said, “Thorin can be a little prickly when you first meet him.”
“A little?”
“Your brother looked up to him,” Hugh said.
“Really? I never saw Mani pay much respect to authority.”
“Thorin’s not your average boss,” Skyla said.
“Glad you all think so highly of me.” Speak of the Devil, and he doth appear. Thorin appeared beside the table, silent and wary. He wore dark slacks, a white shirt loosened at the collar showing the gleam of something metallic around his neck, and sleeve cuffs rolled back to reveal an archaic pair of bracelets made of a dark metal. The strange accessories should have conflicted with his urbane facade, but they had the opposite effect. I suspected he wore them for reasons other than fashion.
The only empty seat at the booth was the one next to me. That meant spending the evening crammed between Thorin’s not-so-subtle disdain and Val’s flirtatious advances. I gritted my teeth and scooted over. Thorin slid in beside me. “What’s in the pitcher?” he asked.
“Margaritas!” Skyla said, her enthusiasm a likely side effect of imbibing said pitcher’s contents.
“Dos Equis,” Val said in a more reserved tone.
Thorin slid an empty glass toward Val, and he poured it full of beer. Thorin turned his attention to me. “Hello again, Miss Mundy.”
I nodded and offered a thin smile. The way he insisted on keeping formal terms chafed me, but I didn’t correct him. Voicing an objection might have given him the impression that I cared. I leaned back in the booth and tried my best to observe without drawing further attention. Thorin offered little conversation, but his dark eyes took in everything.
The waiter came by again and dropped off a giant platter of nachos. Everyone dug in, but my appetite had slid away the moment Thorin arrived.
Skyla noticed my empty plate. “Not hungry, Mundy?”
“I think I filled up on the salsa,” I said.
Val forked up a gooey pile of nachos and plopped them onto a plate. He handed it to me. “You have to have some, just a bite.”
Because refusing might seem rude, I scooped up a gob of chips and shoved them in my mouth. The gooey concoction coated my tongue in a greasy kind of bliss, and I licked cheese and crumbs from my fingers. The hairs on my neck prickled, and I turned to find Thorin watching me, as intense and somber as usual. His eyes flicked to my mouth before meeting my gaze. His irises weren’t black as I had presumed, but a deep, sable brown flecked with chips of copper. I suppressed the urge to shiver.
Later, after the pitchers were drained and empty dinner plates cleared, Val turned to Thorin. “We’ve got that day hike tomorrow at nine, right?”
Thorin nodded. “I gave you the itinerary yesterday.”
“Yeah, I just thought it was about time for us to hit the road.”
“Sure.”
“You coming with us?”
“No, I’m staying the night. I have business.”
Skyla snorted. “Is that what you’re calling her these days?”
Thorin narrowed his eyes at Skyla, but he refrained from saying anything more until after we paid our check. Thorin slid out from his seat and held his hand out for me. Oh, the clichés about electric touches, I knew them all. They were the trappings of fairy tales and romance novels—for everyone but me. In my world, those kinds of touches were literal, and disturbing. I slid my palm across Thorin’s larger, rougher one, and in the length of time it took for a spark to jump from his hand to mine, I saw an image of a giant man wearing a helmet that shielded his face. Over his shoulder he carried a massive weapon, something like a sledgehammer but more elegant.
I was no empath or telepath. I didn’t sense feelings or moods or read people’s minds, but if an idea was vivid in a person’s thoughts, I sometimes got an impression of it when we touched. The phenomenon was inconsistent, and I suspected it had to do with the intensity of the other person’s thoughts rather than my own sensitivity. Of course, I had never subjected my theories to sci
entific methodology, so I was open to explanations.
My visions also usually lacked the necessary context for interpretation, and no way was I going to push Thorin’s buttons by asking him why he was thinking so strongly about helmets and hammers. People tended to react badly to invasions of privacy, and nothing was more private than the content of a person’s thoughts. Thorin must have sensed something, though. His brow wrinkled as he pulled me to my feet, and he didn’t immediately let go. “Good night, Miss Mundy.”
I had to swallow before I could answer him. “Good night.”
“Drive carefully.”
“I’m not driving.”
Before Thorin could reply, Val drew me away. “I got it under control. She’ll be safe as houses.”
“Safe as what?” I said as Val turned me toward the door.
Val ignored my question and lowered his voice when he said, “Watch yourself with him, Solina.”
On the way home, Val spoke little and mumbled monosyllabic replies to my attempts at conversation. The others either didn’t notice or chose to ignore his peculiar mood. I said nothing about it until Val delivered me to Mani’s front door and issued a tersely worded goodbye. I slid my key in the deadbolt, clicked the lock open, and turned to confront him. “What got stuck in your craw?”
“Excuse me?” Val said with faint amusement.
“You barely said a word all the way here. Is it something I did?”
Val turned grim. “I’m serious about Thorin. He’ll eat you up. Women are his favorite snack food. You should keep your distance.”
“He’s condescending and aloof. I don’t think that will be difficult.”
Val studied my face for a moment, possibly checking for sincerity, then he leaned in, forcing me to tilt back to keep eye contact. “I’m sorry. I’m just protective by nature.”
I patted around behind my back, found the doorknob, and twisted it. The door clicked open, distracting Val long enough for me to pull away. I backed into the doorway. “Who’s going to eat me up?” I asked. My heart fluttered like a bird trapped in a chimney. A confusing swirl of emotions flooded me. Whatever attraction I felt for Val was muddled with uncertainty and apprehension. “The only big bad wolf I see around here is you.”
Val ducked his head and put his hands out at his side, a gesture of placation. He backed away, and I thought that would be the end of it. But as he spun on his heel, heading for the truck, Val threw one last comment over his shoulder. “If I ever nibbled on you, Solina, I can assure you that you would like it.”
I closed the apartment door, turned the lock, and pressed my cheek and forehead against the cool wooden surface. When Mani died, half of me died with him. He had been my key to experiencing the world, a sort of virtual reality. I was safe and comfortable living that way. No risks, but no real benefits either. To honor my brother’s memory, I had vowed to engage in the world, to take more chances.
Easier said than done.
Traveling across the country was like playing a couple of bucks on a slot machine—not a big gamble. Looking into my brother’s unsolved murder was blackjack—higher stakes, bigger payout if I won. Letting Val get close was championship-level poker with a buy-in I wasn’t sure I could afford. The risk would be monumental, and the loss, if I placed the wrong bet, would be devastating.
Chapter Four
After another morning of sorting through Mani’s things, I cursed myself for ever thinking I was up to the task. If I was more coldhearted and less sentimental, I could light a metaphorical match, brush my hands, and walk away. Instead I crated photos and electronics, stacked books and journals in another box, and started a pile for charity donations. No matter how much I hated to leave anything behind, I could not justify shipping Mani’s sofa and recliner back to North Carolina. And, honestly, it was a really ugly recliner, plaid and patched with duct tape. Maybe some things I minded disposing of less than others.
I was working on stuffing a trash bag full of towels and linens when someone knocked on Mani’s door. I was in no mood for distractions, but curiosity won out. A slight-figured girl in square-rimmed glasses and tiny, meticulously woven braids greeted me at the door. She held some kind of tool I didn’t recognize. I pushed a sweaty tendril of hair off my cheek and said, “Can I help you?”
“I hate to bother you,” she said, “but I borrowed this laser level from Mani a while back. I never got around to returning it.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “Better late than never, I guess.”
“You might as well keep it,” I said, smiling. “I’m trying to get rid of his things. Lord knows I don’t need to collect any more.”
Her eyes widened, and a hesitant smile tugged at her lips. “Oh, well, then…”
“You and Mani were friends?”
She looked away, batting her lashes. She fiddled with a button on the tool she had brought me. Her unease gave away her answer to my question. No way had Mani ever ignored a chance to introduce himself to a cute girl. “He was gone a lot,” she said, “for his job, but we hung out some when he was home.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name. I’m Solina, Mani’s sister.”
She smiled and fluttered her lashes again. “Oh, sorry, I’m Tanisha Hemmings—Nisha. But I know who you are. Mani kept pictures of you everywhere. I thought you were his girlfriend for a long time. He said you were twins, but…” She shrugged and looked at her feet. “You two don’t look anything alike.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” I said.
Nisha rocked on her feet as if anxious to make her getaway. Maybe I made the poor girl nervous. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to—”
I cut her off before she made me feel like a complete social ogre. “It’s nice to meet anyone who knew Mani. It’s good to know he had friends.”
Nisha relaxed. “I know I can’t really understand how you must feel, but Mani was a great guy and I’ll miss him. Please tell me if I can help in any way.”
“I think I’m okay for now, but I’ll let you know if something comes up.”
“Well, I live downstairs, directly under Mani’s apartment. Knock if you need me. I can show you where the consignment shop is, if you want to drop off some things or whatever.”
“You lived under Mani? Did the police talk to you?” So much for social graces.
Nisha’s posture turned wary again. “Yes. They talked to everyone in this building. Lot of good it did them.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I told them I didn’t know anything. It’s the truth.” Nisha’s eyes went misty, and she furrowed her brow. “I wasn’t home that night. I was at the bar, working late. I came home to a parking lot full of cop cars. If I had been here, though, maybe I would have been able to do something. Call the cops… something.”
I reached out to her. She took my hand and squeezed it. “Don’t do that. You can’t blame yourself. It doesn’t do any good. I should know. I’m an expert at it.”
Nisha left after that, probably sensing I had things to do other than wallow in sad memories with a stranger. Nisha had said she’d come home to a parking lot full of police, so she really didn’t need to blame herself about not being the one to call the cops. Someone else did that in her place. A concerned neighbor thought he was reporting a domestic dispute.
Thinking of the police reminded me of another matter I had put off long enough. I slipped my phone from my pocket and pulled up the contact number for Emmett Vanderleigh, the lead—and pretty much only—detective on Mani’s case. Siqiniq was a small town, and the police department was a slightly more sophisticated version of Mayberry’s Andy Taylor and Barney Fife.
Vanderleigh had called me and my parents throughout the past four months, first to break the bad news and then to keep us up to date on the progress—or lack thereof—of his investigation. He had been pleasant, kind, and respectful, always offering to be available when we had questions or concerns. I hoped he’d meant it, because I was about to take him up on
his offer.
“Miss Mundy, it’s a pleasure to meet you face to face,” Detective Vanderleigh said. He had proposed we meet somewhere neutral, a coffee shop or a restaurant, but I wanted to look at Mani’s police files, so Vanderleigh cleared a space for me in his office. “I’d say you were lucky I had some downtime in my schedule today, but Siqiniq is a pretty quiet town. I tend to have a lot of downtime compared to Anchorage.”
“Well, I appreciate your making time to meet me anyway,” I said and shook Vanderleigh’s hand. He settled into his worn chair and motioned for me to take a visitor’s chair on the other side of his desk.
“You had no trouble finding the station?”
I smiled. “I have GPS on my phone.”
Vanderleigh glanced out his office window, which faced the parking lot. “That your brother’s 4Runner?”
My eyebrows arched. “How’d you know?”
He chuckled. “My son has one just like it. The love of his life. I remember thinking, when we looked through your brother’s SUV, that he must have loved it a lot too. He took real good care of it.”
“Yes, he did.”
“Didn’t give you any trouble starting? Sometimes those old trucks don’t deal well with sitting for a long time.”
“It was a little reluctant, but I got it going.” I needed to drive the 4Runner, make sure it still ran. That way I could ask top dollar for it when I put it up for sale on the Internet. My heart sank. Mani had an unnatural and obsessive love for that SUV. He called it Roxanne. I couldn’t help but love her a little, too.
Vanderleigh and I chatted about everyday things—Siqiniq weather and his son’s hockey team—until we ran out of polite topics. Vanderleigh threaded his fingers together, rested his forearms on his desktop, and leaned toward me. His salt-and-pepper eyebrows drew together. He laid a serious stare on me, the kind he probably used on stubborn witnesses and problematic perpetrators. “Are you sure you want to do this, Solina? There’s nothing in your brother’s file I haven’t explained over the phone.”
Midnight Burning Page 3