Honey House

by LAURA HARNER

  He swallowed, and then tried again, “Jason’s coffin will be delivered to the airport this afternoon. We’re going home.”

  ****

  “If you’re going, I’m going with you, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” I said. Okay, so I might be lying, but Merkham didn’t need to know that.

  I’d been in the dining room having a late afternoon cup of coffee and wondering what to do next. Yesterday, I’d been ready to believe in werewolves but this morning Quinn made it sound like a big hoax. Where was the truth? If werewolves existed my plan for going to the ranch tonight seemed pretty stupid. On the other hand, I didn’t appreciate getting pulled in to the hoax if everyone in town was lying.

  I’d just about made my mind up to stay home when Edwin came out of his room, moving quickly toward the door. It was the dark clothes and cameras that tipped me off. He was going to explore Juniper Springs and TWTW Ranch. Without Jason’s notes, he needed to investigate the story himself, he’d said. He was confident the next article had been about the werewolves. Since I was also interested in knowing more, I invited myself along.

  ****

  The ride had been rather contentious, to say the least. Merkham was pissed that I’d allowed David to take his brother’s belongings without giving him a chance to look through them.

  “You really expected me to tell David that you had a right to look through Jason’s room before he left to fly home with his brother’s body?” I asked.

  “It may sound harsh, KC, but Jason’s work belonged to the Chronicle. We were paying for his time. Anything he developed in preparing this story is ours, it doesn’t belong to his family. I don’t know everything he found out, but I do know some of it because as his editor, we spoke daily. Now it’s up to me to find out the truth behind this story.

  “What about you? As long as I’m writing this story from scratch, do you want to explain your side of the fraud conviction? It would be an exclusive, I could make sure you came across as sympathetic.”

  “Is that what you’re going to do for Melissa at Rapture? Make her look sympathetic?” I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “Oh, so you spoke with her. Well, yes, I can make her out to be another victim if she comes across with the goods on her boss. I think we could make it a compelling story. It would explain how Sparks used her, convinced her that salvation depended on her helping him. If she doesn’t explain it, I have no choice but to tell the public about the exorbitant fees she’s charging and funneling directly back to Sparks. I’m giving her the opportunity to save herself,” he said.

  “Is that what you call it?” I had to work hard at keeping my voice neutral.

  “Same with you, KC. I did some background based on what Jason had already dug up. I know those were your foster parents who were convicted for fraud. I don’t know if Jason’s research went that far back. He should have. We could create a lot of sympathy for your story. How old were you when you first realized your foster parents were committing fraud?” he asked, acting as if he was a professional journalist instead of just another blackmailer.

  “Not going there, Edwin. Your paper’s done enough for me already, thanks,” I said dryly.

  Shrugging his wide shoulders, Edwin got out of the car.

  I blinked, trying to get my bearings. I hadn’t even realized he’d stopped the car, yet here we were, already at the outskirts of the ranch. I scrambled out after him. “Wait, where are you going?” I asked. “It’ll be dark soon, do you have flashlights? How will you find your way back to your car?”

  “I told you I was going to look around out here. This place is closed up for the full moon, so there’s no better time to dig around out here without getting caught. The office is about a mile, straight through those trees and that’s where I’m headed. Pictures of the alleged werewolf headquarters on the full moon ought to make good press, don’t you think?” Edwin asked.

  I was beginning to think this wasn’t a very good idea. There was a weird energy out here, a low thrumming that pushed up from the ground and set my nerves on edge. I was starting to feel sick to my stomach and a little headachy, as though I was coming down with the flu. Maybe I should wait in the car.

  While I was busy wondering what Edwin thought he was out here proving, he did the completely unexpected. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a twenty-two caliber Colt, and pointed it straight at my heart.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I’m going to go into the ranch, and now you’re coming with me. You insisted that you wanted to ride along. Well, now you need to stay where I can keep an eye on you. I’m going to find the same proof Jason found and more. I’m not going to let you run off to get your little friends to stop me.”

  I pushed passed the nausea and grabbed my cell phone. “I’m coming, but let me cancel my date.”

  “Put your phone down,” he said.

  I laughed. “What the hell are you going to do with that, Edwin? You’re not going to shoot me!”

  Still smiling, and with a laugh in my voice, I said, “I want to stay. I’ll help. Give me a sec, because if I don’t cancel this date, all your plans will be for shit.” I turned my back on him without waiting for an answer. My heart was doing a nice little pitter-patter in my chest, not at all happy to have a gun pointed at my back.

  The whiskey-rich voice answered with not much more than a grunt.

  I made my voice honey sweet, layered with a bit of feeble. “Quinn, honey? It’s me, Katie. Damn, you’re not there.” Quinn’s breathing was quiet, but I felt him straining to catch the meaning behind my words. “I hate leaving a message, but it can’t be helped. I’m afraid I have to cancel our date tonight. I’m not feeling very well, so I think I’ll just go to bed early. Don’t bother calling, I’ll talk to you in the morning. Good night, love you,” I finished. Then I slipped my phone back in my pocket without ending the call.

  “So what’s the plan, Edwin? Will you please put that damn gun away? Shit, where did you get it, anyway? A twenty-two isn’t much good for killing anything except jackrabbits. You plan to stay out here hiding in the woods looking for werewolves all night?” I asked. With those few sentences, I gave Quinn as much information as I could about the situation. If he was still listening.

  “No, we only need to stay for a few hours,” he said, slipping his gun back into his pocket.

  He seemed nervous about the gun, and I suspected it was a new purchase. I wondered if he even knew how to set the safety, and indulged in a minor fantasy that involved Edwin shooting his own dick off.

  “All I expect to be able to do tonight is get some full moon footage. Tomorrow, I’ll pull their business records and track down the CEO. He avoided my calls all day today on the pretense of the office being closed for the full moon.”

  His breathing was labored as we hiked over the uneven terrain. Maybe if I picked up the pace some, he would pass out by the time we reached the office. Since I was now in the lead, I made the route a bit more circuitous than necessary. If there was a hard way, we took it.

  The more he talked, the more out of breath he got, and the less likely he’d be to hear an approaching car. Say, perhaps the sheriff’s car?

  Of course, there was a downside. I couldn’t hear anything, either, except his voice and breathing. If something was following us with bad intent, we’d be dead before we heard it.

  “What do you know about Raymond?” I asked, throwing auditory caution to the wind.

  “No such person,” Edwin panted. “There are plenty of men named Raymond Martinez in Arizona, but none of them live here or match his description. I should have the results of a broader search tomorrow.”

  “Do you know who all the people were that Jason interviewed? I mean did he actually talk to Raymond? Or Melissa over at Rapture?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

  He didn’t say anything for a moment, just breathed harder. “Yes, both,” he gasped, “and someone at Vortex Infusion, and the grocers. Not sure who else.”<
br />
  “Why come all the way out here? Can’t you just interview everyone again?”

  “Because Jason had proof. A picture is worth a thousand words and all that drivel. I came out here to get pictures and I’m not leaving without them,” Merkham said. “Now shut the fuck up. You’re making too damn much noise.”

  The trailer was up ahead, just beyond the dirt parking lot. I paused at the edge of the tree line, uncertain if it was better to stay here in the relative cover of the brush and trees or move under the dim security light of the trailer. There were no vehicles in the clearing, just the singlewide trailer that served as the office for TWTW.

  When I’d come out here the other day, Raymond had headed me off before I could get inside, but I knew the typical layout well enough. There would be an open reception area with a desk and one or two small offices. Oh yeah…and a bathroom. I could really use a bathroom right about now.

  Decision made, I moved quickly across the lot toward the steps of the trailer. I’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable sitting on the steps rather than leaning against a tree. Maybe in a sudden fit of chivalry Merkham would offer to break down the door so I could use the facilities. I smothered the laugh that threatened. I needed to focus.

  When Edwin caught up to me, I noticed he had the gun back out, but he was so out of breath there wasn’t much he could do. He bent over, put his hands on his knees, and sucked wind.

  What’s a girl to do under such tempting circumstances? Could it possibly be this easy? I gave a swift roundhouse kick, and Edwin went down in a pile, his gun falling harmlessly away.

  I breathed a silent prayer of thanks to all the martial arts instructors who taught me useful skills along the way. I might never have joined a dojo, but between the California penal system and the cruise line, I’d spent a lot of hours perfecting my own unique brand of martial arts. I had a black belt in badass.

  In short order, I retrieved his gun, searched for more weapons, and then checked his pulse. I’d just straightened up when car lights bounced into the lot and shone a spotlight on us.

  Quinn stepped out of the car, his weapon drawn and pointing.

  “It’s okay—I’ve got his gun,” I said, and then set the gun down on the step and moved my hands so they were clearly visible to Quinn. Most cops didn’t like it when there were lose guns on a scene.

  “Are you okay?” Quinn asked, his voice a little rougher than usual. I couldn’t make out his face in the glare of the headlights, but he sounded strained.

  “I’m fine. Can I put my hands down?” I asked.

  “Come here,” he growled, his voice a dark caress.

  As soon as I reached Quinn, he pushed me roughly against the hood of his car. “Assume the position, I know you know it.”

  “What?” I managed to squeak out, just before he kicked my feet wide apart.

  Quinn frisked me thoroughly and then jerked my hands behind my back. He chinked the handcuffs in place and pushed me into the rear of his Tahoe. I sat in stunned disbelief and watched while he went to check on Edwin. He lifted the big man as easily as if he were a doll. He strapped the still unconscious editor into the front passenger seat and we left TWTW Ranch with the lights flashing.

  ****

  “You can go,” Quinn said quietly. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  The words I’d spent the night rehearsing threatened to choke me in my effort to get them all out at once. “You goddamn prick! I was kidnapped at gunpoint and managed to call you for help. I disarmed and subdued the kidnapper and I’m the one you cuff? You arrest me and leave me alone in jail overnight? No phone call? What kind of a back ass idiot are you? I want my phone call. Shit. I need a bathroom!”

  I’d been locked in a small holding cell, the type used by small towns before they transport a suspect to the county lock up. They weren’t designed to keep anyone for more than two or three hours.

  Quinn had steadfastly refused to speak to me last night, refused to answer any of my questions or acknowledge my insults. He’d silently removed the handcuffs, pushed me through the cell door, and left me there alone all night. No water, no bathroom, no guard.

  “Bathroom’s right over there.” Quinn pointed. “No charges are being filed,” he added softly.

  I’d wanted to say so many things, but Mother Nature would have her way. When I finally emerged from the small bathroom, Quinn was gone and Owen was waiting for me.

  “Owen,” I choked, my throat tight with relief.

  “Come on, KC, let’s get you home,” he said. He swung an easy arm around my shoulders and led me out the door.

  I blinked into the bright sunlight of another perfect Arizona morning, feeling unsteady by the torrent of emotions raging through me. Owen listened as he drove, letting my temper roll off him. He knew I wasn’t angry with him. He nodded, hmm’d, and kept both hands on the wheel as he took me to the Honey House.

  He climbed out and walked me to the front door, where he planted a brotherly kiss on my cheek.

  “Owen?” I asked. “Will you come inside and tell me what’s going on?”

  “Ahh, KC. If only I could.” Owen brushed my hair back from my face. “This is between you and Quinn. I gave my word I wouldn’t interfere.”

  “But you came to get me. How did you know?” I asked.

  Owen looked at me for a long moment, as if deciding exactly what he should tell me. “I need to get back to Gregory; I left him shorthanded at the store this morning.” He turned and glided toward his car. Opening the door, he paused with his hands on the roof and looked very seriously at me. “Some things are better just left alone, KC. I know that’s not easy, but it’s true. I’ll talk with you later.”

  I watched him drive off and felt very alone.

  David had checked out yesterday and Merkham would be long gone by now, so there was no real hurry to set out breakfast. First on my “To do” list was a long hot shower and then I would figure out my next steps.

  I’d vowed to do something noble about finding Jason’s killer, and I’d meant it at the time. But spending last night in jail had changed things. I’d spent six years confined by the California Youth Authority. I’d only been thirteen when I’d entered, a very young thirteen. Sure, I’d lied to help my foster parents run scams, but I was innocent in the ways of real bad people. I’d not been raised around others my age. I’d never been exposed to what teenagers could do to each other, never been exposed to the ways an adult could really hurt a child. I’d gained a lifetime of experience my first night in confinement. Experience no girl should ever have.

  I was half way down the hall before I realized I wasn’t alone. Quinn was sitting at his usual spot, sipping coffee and reading the paper. He raised lazy eyes to me, and quirked an eyebrow as if daring me to say something.

  Arguing with Quinn was more than I had in me at the moment. I turned my back on him and continued to my apartment. His presence changed nothing. Unless it was to remind me that I didn’t belong here.

  Dropping my clothes to the floor, I stepped under the beating spray and let it wash over me. It was time to face the hard truth. I’d fucked up. I knew the rules, they’d been drummed into me since I was a child.

  Rule number one was never leave enough rope for them to hang you. Last night I’d been in a bit of trouble. So what? I’d handled a lot more trouble than that before. Eventually I would have gotten the opening I needed. Hell, I did get the opening, and I’d cleaned Merkham’s clock with one swift kick. It would have been easy to leave in the bastard’s car and get away. Instead, I’d called the cops just like any other mope. I’d stood there and practically begged to be arrested, given the sheriff everything he’d needed.

  That was nothing compared to what I’d nearly done to rule number two. Violating rule number two was what made people victims. It was the rule that defined my life. Don’t get attached, because you can’t lose what you don’t love.

  I’d very nearly fucked up and started to care for this place, for these people. Very nearly a
llowed myself to believe I could have a life that was any kind of normal. Last night had been a timely reminder.

  There was nothing that could redeem me in the minds of decent, upstanding citizens. I was an ex-con and the sheriff wasn’t about to let me forget it. I’d spent last night alone in that cell, reliving the nightmare of my first night in the CYA and the many nights that followed. Quinn believed the world was safer protected from me.

  I would always be the one he’d haul off to jail first, no questions asked. I would always be the one some enterprising young journalist could threaten to expose. I would always be an oddity to bring out at a dinner party. “KC has done so well for herself, considering her history.” Leaving the Honey House and Juniper Springs in my rear view mirror was looking like my most attractive option.

  I scrubbed until my skin was raw, but I couldn’t wash away the ugly.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bright moonlight bounced off the tops of the trees, but very little light managed to spill onto the path in front of me. Wind whispered through the trees, a chorus of spiteful voices taunting me. I quickened my pace, flinching when branches brushed against my skin, reaching for me. My breath caught in my throat. I would not panic. It was all a rumor, they weren’t real. There was nothing to fear.

  I was nearly there. The security light glowed pale yellow through the woods, a beacon calling to me, guiding me to the headquarters of TWTW. If I could just get to the trailer, somebody would let me in and I would be safe.

  The pounding of my own heart was loud in my ears but not loud enough to drown out the sound of harsh breathing that was coming from somewhere nearby. Oh God. I couldn’t stay calm. The chase might excite the monster behind me, but I couldn’t help it. I swallowed a scream and ran.

  The branches whipped at me, punishing me for my panic, scraping my skin. Small drops of blood seeped along the abrasions. I could smell the metallic copper over the scent of juniper.

  Dear God, the blood, I knew it would come after the blood. I ran full out, screaming, screaming.