by Hazel Hunter
“Kinley Chandler had no interest in her own recovery,” the psychiatrist told her, pressing his bony fingers to his temple as if he felt a migraine coming on. “She didn’t socialize, she stopped eating, and she slept twenty hours a day. I believe she had survivor’s guilt, and diagnosed her as high risk for suicide.”
“But she never attempted to kill herself while under your care,” Diana pointed out. “And she refused the pain meds which she could have squirreled away to do the deed. When I checked her hospital room, I saw about twenty things she might have used to kill herself. Active duty combat—they’re trained to be resourceful.”
“Being at risk for suicide is not the same thing as committing it,” Patterson told her. “Chandler was clearly building up to the act in an opportunity-restricted environment. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a patient waiting.”
Later Diana had asked Gerry Stevens if Patterson might have helped Kinley get out of the canyon. The psychiatrist suggested only if he’d been held at gunpoint.
Once Diana parked her Caddy in the lot by the canyon trail, she finished her fries and milkshake, and deposited her trash in the park can before fetching her big flashlight from the trunk. She paused for a moment to clear her head with her personal mantra: Save one, save the world.
“All right, Blondie,” Diana said as she switched on the high-powered light. “Let’s see if we can find out something new tonight.”
Little noises rustled on either side of the trail as Diana made her way up to the crime scene, but nothing jumped out to bite her. She kept her hand on the Glock 19 in her hip holster, just in case something got braver. Diana was fine with nature, as long as it kept its poisonous fangs away from her ankles.
At the oak grove, one lonely strip of faded yellow crime scene tape fluttered in the breeze. Every time she came to the spot she noticed first how quiet it was, as if nothing but the wind and the oak leaves were allowed to be heard. It also felt a little cooler than every other spot in the canyon, but she attributed that to the density of the tree canopy. Her own imagination probably factored in, as it was here that a battered, dying woman had spent her last moments before seemingly evaporating into thin air.
“Hey, Kinley,” Diana said. She always talked to her victim when she was alone at the scene. “It’s your favorite cop again. Miss me?” She walked around a bit, breathing in the cool night air. “I know. I should have come by this weekend, when I’d have daylight to help me. Can’t wait for it.” She turned from side to side, using the light to sweep the grove. “Come on, Blondie. We’re running out of time. Give me something.”
Diana walked a full circle of the scene, aiming the flashlight on the soil and the trees. The ruts left by Kinley’s wheelchair had long ago been scoured away by the wind, although she did notice some new root growth from the oaks showing through fresh breaks in the topsoil.
“I’m guessing you guys are older than dirt, so good for you.” She crouched down to touch the knobs of one root, and snatched her hand back. She rubbed her tingling fingertips, dropping the flashlight in the process. “Damn it! This better not be poison ivy.”
She held her hand in the light to check her skin, and then looked up.
The beam of light shone across the grove to a gap that Diana had never before noticed. Slowly she picked up the flashlight and moved it over the area until she realized what it was.
“That’s the edge of that dried-up waterfall,” she murmured. When she stood she couldn’t see it anymore. She dropped back down, positioning herself as if she were sitting in a wheelchair, and clearly saw the gap again. “Son of a bitch. Could you have made that on your own?” It wasn’t that far, maybe a dozen steps. Her heart clenched as she straightened. “Aw, Blondie. Tell me you didn’t jump and get your wrecked ass stuck in some rocks on the way down.”
Diana started to take a step toward the gap, and then hesitated. If her victim had leapt to her death, and her body had gotten wedged before hitting the ground, the critters in the canyon still would have disposed of her remains. Even bones would be scattered by now. She probably wasn’t going to see anything when she looked over the edge but darkness, and she had enough of that in her head.
Until we find a body, we don’t give up hope.
“Damn it,” Diana said. “I can’t believe you took a dive. I know it was bad, you were a mess and in terrible pain and about to lose your leg, but what the hell, Blondie?” She threw out her arms. “You survived Afghanistan to do this? Do you know how it’s going to screw with Gerry when she finds out? Your shrink is one bad phone call away from a breakdown.”
Maybe Diana would forget about what she’d seen and walk away. She could stick her notes in the cold case file and forget about Captain Kinley Chandler. The next cop who dug into it could look over the edge.
Only she couldn’t walk away. She’d been carrying Kinley’s sad, heartbreaking image in her head for twelve months now. If there was anything left of her to bury, Diana needed to know. Then she could close this case, solve the biggest mystery of her career and, when the time came, go out a winner.
Looking up at the night sky cleared Diana’s head. “Right. Quit whining and do the job.” She started toward the gap, caught the edge of her boot on a root and went down hard.
Her knees slammed into nothing as the flashlight skittered out of her hand. Diana fell straight down into a dark, whirling tunnel of threshing leaves and branches and tree trunks. She couldn’t get out a scream, but she clamped her palm on her Glock. No light, no end, and as she fell deeper and faster she knew when she hit the bottom of whatever sinkhole she’d fallen into she was going to be smashed to smithereens.
Oddly that thought comforted her. No better way to go out than instantaneously—and maybe that was why Kinley had thrown herself over the edge.
Chapter Two
DIANA’S DROP SEEMED to slow as the trees crowded around her, and then spread back out. She finally hit bottom, only it wasn’t bottom. She was back on the ground, and outside, but the sky was golden, not black, and the sun was only just setting. The trees around her looked different—smaller, and somehow older—and beyond them rose some pretty impressive mountains. Weathered slabs of odd-looking rock, half-buried in the ground, formed an irregular ring around her. The air she dragged in made her lungs tingle from the cold crispness. Somewhere close by the sound of water rushed, and then birds were singing.
Slowly she pushed herself up to see a huge, furry red deer with a gray face staring at her.
“Ah, hi there, Nature.”
The deer let out something that sounded like a high-pitched, extra-long burp, and took off. Diana covered her head and cringed as an entire herd of deer jumped over her and around her as they followed.
Once the wildlife left the building it took another couple of minutes for Diana to stand and test her legs. Her bum knee, which should have been throbbing up a storm, felt great. Better than great. It felt like it had been replaced with a titanium knee that would never wear out. Adrenalin did wonders for the shocked as shit, Diana decided as she holstered her weapon. She turned around to scope out her surroundings.
That was when she saw that she wasn’t in California anymore.
The sea was different, and on the wrong side of her. She also knew it couldn’t be seen from a place as far inland as Horsethief Canyon. She added the grass, the thick carpet of feathery ferns, and trumpet-shaped blue flowers to her wrong list. No chaparral anywhere, only oak trees. Lots and lots of oak trees.
Diana heard a rustle and drew her weapon. “Step out and show yourselves, now.”
The man and woman who shuffled out into the open looked at her with the same confusion she felt. Both were dressed in crudely-sewn tunics, belted shawls and wore funny caps on their heads. From their stained, handmade leather boots to their bad haircuts, everything about them shouted serious cosplay.
“Hi,” Diana said. She took out her badge and showed it to them. “Lieutenant Burke, San Diego Police. Would you mind telling me where
I am?”
The woman tried to muffle a shriek with her hand. The man didn’t bother trying. They both took off the same way the deer had gone.
“Thank you for your cooperation,” she said quietly, replacing her badge.
As good as her knee felt, Diana considered chasing after them. But a strange glimmer caught her eye. At first it looked like someone had left a trail of golden glitter through the grass, but as she drew closer she saw the sparkles were actual light, floating just above the ground. When she knelt down to touch the substance, it wound around her fingers, glowing even brighter. It disappeared as soon as she lifted her hand away from the rest of the trail, leaving behind a whiff of something like very pricey gardenia-scented soap.
Crap.
She stood. Jake wouldn’t have spiked her milkshake with drugs. Diana would swear to that. He was a good kid who genuinely liked her. She wasn’t hallucinating, either. She’d done plenty of that, and it didn’t feel like this. This felt real, and there was another thing that freaked her out a little.
The sparkles felt like Captain Kinley Chandler. Hell, they even smelled like her.
The trail of golden light tugged at Diana, and so did something else. It seemed to be reaching into her chest and grabbing at her heart. She looked up at the jagged ridges of the mountains, and felt the pull again, stronger this time. She took a few steps along the glittering trail, which melted away behind her.
Diana didn’t believe in magic, or magical sink holes, or alternate dimensions. There had to be logical explanations for wherever she was and however she’d gotten here. But the answers, she suspected, were on the other end of the trail.
She took out her phone and switched it on, only to see the NO SERVICE icon pop up. Wherever she was, she was too far from the cell towers—aka on her own. Following the trail without backup was stupid, of course. So was standing around doing nothing.
Diana holstered her Glock. She had ten rounds, and an extra clip in her jacket. She’d stopped carrying around a backup piece since department regulations had been changed to nix them, but she still had an EDC folding knife she kept tucked in her left boot. She’d gotten a brown belt in Judo before she’d had to drop out of training, and she took mandatory classes for the department every two years in defensive tactics.
Whatever waited for her on the other end of the trail, she would deal with it—and maybe find some answers, too.
With the sun setting, and no sign of any power poles, Diana had to move fast to cover the trail across the plain and up into the rocky slopes of the mountains. She ran for the first mile, slowed for a breather, and then jogged up onto the first rise of gray and white boulders. The cold air felt so good flooding her lungs that she broke into another run. The higher she went, the more the view improved. From what she could see she was on a peninsula, maybe even an island. It didn’t look like Baja or Catalina, though. As the sky darkened to a rich orange-purple she glanced back to check for the lights from town, only to see nothing but more dusk.
No electricity. No palm trees. No cars.
Where the hell was she, Mexican cartel hell?
Once she reached the top of the first ridge Diana expected to be turned around. There was no way in hell she was rock-climbing without safety equipment. But then she saw a man-made passage cut through the stone into the mountain. She entered it, moving cautiously until she could see more of it, and then started jogging again.
How she was doing this with the knee she’d wrecked in college, especially after the year she’d had, Diana didn’t know. Or care. She’d run for the rest of the night if it kept feeling this good.
She went another half-mile before the trail emptied onto a grassy plateau surrounding an enormous structure. Diana stared at it for a full minute before she leaned back against a wall of stone and rubbed her eyes. When she opened them again it was still there: a huge medieval castle, with towers and torches and a moat and big, burly-looking guards stationed at all the entrances. Guards wearing dark pants and light-colored plaids belted over their tunics, no less.
“Maybe I am hallucinating.” She leaned out to look at the castle again, which did not change into a big pink bunny and hop away. She bent over, let the blood rush to her head, and straightened. Still there. “Damn. Maybe I’m not.”
Diana didn’t have time to debate it to death. The last of the light was fading rapidly, and trying to navigate her way unnoticed into the big freaking castle would be next to impossible in the dark. Fortunately she had worn her navy suit and a dark blouse to work today, which would help conceal her as long as she stayed in the shadows.
She eyed the best approach and headed as silently as she could toward the side outer wall, waiting behind a big rock as the guards walking the top of the wall had gone to either end. She darted across the last expanse of grass and ducked into an arch, where she stepped back into the shadows as two men emerged from an open-ended passage.
“I’m no’ saying you cannae look for your cousin, Seoc,” the shorter, bald guy said in a heavy Scottish accent. “Only consider what the laird would be forced to do if you found him. Evander very nearly killed Raen to free a legion spy. He’ll be put to death as a traitor.”
His taller, hunched-shouldered companion made a frustrated gesture. “I’ve naught else to do to redeem our name, Chieftain. He’s forever disgraced the Talorc, but if I brought him back to face what he’s done–”
“And Fiona Marphee?” the chieftain asked softly. “Would you wield the axe that ends Evander’s lover?”
Diana watched them disappear into another passage before she emerged. Scottish guys in costumes at a monster castle talking about clans and spies and killing people with axes. Right.
If it was a movie set, where were the cameras and crew?
The tugging in her chest suddenly became a gripping, clawing compulsion that she couldn’t resist. Diana swore silently as she gave into it and followed the trail, which took her through the passage and into a huge, empty room that looked like some sort of kitchen.
Whoever these guys were, they ate well. Baskets of fruits and vegetables had been stacked on shelves next to a fireplace so huge she could have parked her Caddy inside with room to spare. Inside it hung several huge, empty iron caldrons that looked like they could hold enough soup to feed an army. Wire baskets of eggs hung from hooks over huge sacks of oats and other grains. Wheels of cheese with hard rinds stood in high stacks, waiting to be cut open. She saw no fridge, stove or any other modern conveniences except for a giant-size stone sink. The smell of warm, sweet fruit made her peek inside one cabinet that had been filled with loaves of bread and some kind of jellied dessert in big clay pots.
The sound of voices growing louder made her duck behind the cabinet. A heartbeat later two more costumed actors entered the kitchen and walked across it toward the interior of the castle. Both of them were huge, well-developed men who looked as if they could kick anyone’s ass without breaking a sweat. One was slightly smaller and moved like a dancer, which seemed odd for his bulky size. The other was a mountain of muscle on legs. From her position she couldn’t see their faces, which oddly frustrated her.
“Wait,” said a deep voice that rumbled. “Someone’s been in here, my lord.”
Diana flinched.
“Likely Neac, after another of Meg’s pies now that she’s abed,” a mellow, amused voice answered. “Which is where I should be, as my lady awaits me in the tower. And you ken how she is when made to wait.”
“Aye,” the other man said. “Good-night, my lord.”
Diana held her breath as the bigger man remained behind, and slowly approached the pie cabinet. Through the slats at the back she got a better look at how huge he was: easily a half-foot taller than her, and built like a Mack truck on steroids. His shaggy black hair had an odd silvery sheen to it, and one side of his face had been covered with primitive, jagged tattoos. Those had to be temporary, of course. No man so fine would tat up his face like that.
This one wasn’t wear
ing a tartan, and his tunic clung to a vast, muscle-paved chest that, like his roof-beam shoulders, seemed to go on forever. Whatever workout he favored had done wonders for his physique. His biceps looked bigger than her head, and his thighs were like ripped tree trunks. His scent rolled around the cabinet and doused her with a smell exactly like the air after a midnight rain storm: cool and dark and clean.
He was standing too far away for her to smell him, she realized.
Why do I suddenly have a nose like a bloodhound?
The dragging sensation inside her suddenly jerked hard, and then dissolved into a wave of elation. It felt a little like the surge of emotion she experienced whenever she found one of her victims alive and safe, only more intense. Which, since he wasn’t lost, and she didn’t know him from Adam, was completely ridiculous.
Stop being distracted by the big man, Diana chided herself. You’re here to find Kinley.
The man frowned, and took a step back, glancing over his shoulder. “Neac? Come out, man. I’ll no’ tell Meg you were filching.”
He reached out toward her with one giant paw, and closed the door she’d left open. After that he waited for a long moment, breathing in deeply, before he shook his head, swung back around and retreated into the castle.
All the breath whooshed out of Diana’s lungs as she sagged against the rough brick wall.
The weird pulling sensation also evaporated from inside her, allowing her to gather her scattered brains. Whoever and whatever the big guy was, he wasn’t her problem.
She remained in her hiding spot until she felt reasonably sure no one else would walk in, and then performed a quick recon of the area. She might be spotted if she went after the men, and since she had no backup it seemed safer to stay out of sight. She found the entrance to another passage that appeared deserted, and followed it to a set of stone steps, which she climbed up to the next floor. There she followed another passage that allowed her to look down on a cavernous area where several dozen men were standing, sitting and talking.