He accelerated, trying to catch up to the horse trailer. Crazy bruja probably had her crazy, man-stomping horse in there. He’d seen the hoofprint in the mirror of the sterile hotel after his last run-in with her. The curved, bruised welt on the back of his neck, arching up into the hairline at the base of his skull.
His car surged downhill. Past the narrow dam at the neck of the gorge, the drop off into the ravine was guarded by steel rails on the side of the road.
Asphalt, gray in the circle of his headlights, rolled under the car, faster and faster. He pressed his bulk into the seat as he flung the car through the curves. Ahead, taillights disappeared behind the jut of the granite hillside. As if flooded with his own adrenaline, the car leapt forward. He went around the same curve, and there, the two vehicles, truck and trailer, one rolling behind the other like a train on a track.
Now it was gliding around an inner hairpin bend, and he could see it perfectly in profile below him. In seconds he’d be right up on them, and all he’d have to do is squeeze between them and the cliff, force them towards the guardrail, and the witch would be dead, along with her coven and their familiars.
He blinked to clear his eyes of the nightmare vision of her, the avenging goddess. Sleep deprivation had really messed with his head. This woman—and she was just a woman—was too nosy, had seen too much and heard too much. She simply had to be disabled so she couldn’t interfere with the plans. Ten more days, that’s all.
The brake lights flared and the trailer jerked and swayed as it rounded the next corner. Women drivers. He shook his head and smiled.
The inherent instability of a truck towing a trailer was increased tenfold when going downhill; the trailer, which should be dragged obediently behind, could start to roll faster than the truck and become squirrelly. The tail wagging the dog. Maybe they would do the dirty work for him. He laughed out loud.
But the laugh turned to a heaving sound as he rounded the bend to see an animal the size of a dog barring the road. By instinct, not empathy, he swerved to the right, but the tan blur darted the same way, towards the wall of granite. He jerked back onto the road, but the tires gave up their grip. The car spun 180 degrees and was sliding towards the cliff edge with the horrible smell of disintegrating rubber. Then crunch, into the guardrail, and he was still.
He looked around, but the road was empty. The creature was gone.
Sunday, October 21
REBECCA AND CRYSTAL WERE sitting in the Barracuda in suspended animation, squinting against the yellow depressing sky, waiting for Jeremy to extricate himself from Tanya.
Jeremy had called Rebecca this morning asking for help. Crystal finally got ahold of him, (“I just lost my phone charger,” he said) and told him she was going to run away because she didn’t feel safe in the apartment anymore, and there were detectives and weird men casing the joint. And besides, with Chad dead, they’d be evicted at the end of the month. She said she would go live with John, but Jeremy said he’d kill him if she tried that. “He’s like 30 years old, the pervert.”
Jeremy had asked Rebecca to come with him to get Crystal, just to be a “sane person, a witness, or something,” in case shit went down. She blew air out through puffed cheeks, and wiped the sweat off her forehead. She was still questioning her own sanity, but at least she was some sort of witness.
Tanya berated Jeremy as he tried to back down the stairs away from the apartment. Her voice traveled, despite her being on the third floor landing. “And who’s this little slut you’re with?” Rebecca winced, feeling her ears burn.
Tanya’s hair was all over the place, dark roots showing at least two inches long beneath the fried bleached parts. She wore a silky mauve robe, and probably nothing else. “You better not let me near her. I’ll tear her to pieces.”
“Shut up Tanya,” Jeremy said. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Their abuse had a practiced, easy air, as if they spoke to each other this way all the time. Almost as if they enjoyed it.
“No, you shut up. You Shut UP!” Tanya was slurring. “You killed Chad didn’t you? Why won’t you admit it? I heard you threaten him.”
“You know why I threatened him. No, don’t play dumb. You of all people.”
Low mumbling, crying. Then Jeremy spoke again. “Unless you wanna be next, let’s talk about Dad, and how we can make the most of our situation.”
“I was already…working with your father. I told him I knew everything—”
Jeremy said something she couldn’t make out.
“—then the next night, Chad gets killed! Killed!” Tanya’s voice went up several octaves into Mariah Carey range, warning at a complete loss of control. She and Jeremy stepped closer to the building, and Rebecca’s view of them was blocked. She shifted on the hot vinyl seat.
She expected any minute for a neighbor to stick their head out of the door, call out, “Everything okay up there?” But the place felt deserted.
From the landing above came quiet, snuffling sobs. “Help me, please.”
“Help? You got yourself into this. But guess what? I’m taking Crystal. I’m gonna take her and she’ll live with me.” Jeremy came down the stairs.
“Like hell you will! Like hell!” Tanya shouted, switching from pussycat back to raging bull. “She’s mine. CRYSTAL! Get your ass up here!”
“Stay right there!” Rebecca growled over her shoulder to Crystal.
Tanya looked over the banister and hissed, “She’s mine!” Her face formed a primitive grimace, lit by the strange rays of the afternoon sun filtered through smoke. Light flickered behind her eyes, some sort of demonic possession, an internal beast that truly frightened Rebecca. Tanya bolted for the stairs, trying to get past Jeremy, but he caught her, flung her over his shoulder, and marched back into the apartment.
In the side-view mirror, Crystal’s bottom lip disappeared into her mouth, eyes wide. Her shoulders were at her ears, arms drawn around her like an old Baptist lady clutching a bible to her chest. Just a scared little girl.
After a few minutes, Jeremy reemerged, closed the door, and ran down. He got in and the three of them wordlessly sped east, into the darkening heart of Fairy Glen.
After an interminable silence, Rebecca had to say something, anything. The tension was insane. “What are you guys gonna do? Do you have anywhere to stay?” She turned in her seat to face them both down.
Jeremy didn’t take his eyes from the road and Crystal just rolled hers. She had lit a cigarette and was flicking the ash out the window. Rebecca needed eye contact, something to let her know what these two were thinking, if they had any kind of plan at all.
After an exaggerated exhale, Crystal said loudly, “Jeremy. You can drop me off at John’s.” The condescension dripped off her voice. She’d completely ignored Rebecca, as if she hadn’t said anything at all. The bitch was back.
“Are you fucking kidding me,” Jeremy growled under his breath. He turned to face Crystal for a second, and in that instant he looked so much like a snarling dog that Rebecca snatched back her arm protectively. “No FUCKING way Crystal! No way!” He ended it in a roar, turning back to the road.
Dang, he could yell when he wanted to. Rebecca stuck her index finger in her left ear and jimmied it. Partially deaf now, she decided to sit tight. “Won’t Tanya just call the cops and get Crystal back?” she said after a while.
“No. She’s got too much to hide, too much to lose. And I hold the key. I could expose it all, like that.” He snapped his fingers, just once; a violent gesture. Tanya’s neck snapping. “Here, I’m dropping you off. Corner okay? Okay.” He was being a dick, dismissing her, now that he didn’t need her anymore.
He screeched to a stop at the corner of Suerte del Gitano and Fairy Glen.
She got out of the car, mouth agape. “What’s your plan, Jeremy?” she asked, while Crystal got out of the back and into the front, moving slow like she was some kind of goddamn supermodel.
He set his jaw in answer, avoided eye contact, and sta
rted to pull away as Crystal closed the door. She flipped him off, long and deliberate, and only then did he meet her gaze fully, his eyes framed by the rearview mirror.
He drove off, leaving her in a cloud of dust, his orange car fluorescent against the curtain of dark green trees.
She switched back to reality. Too late, she yelled out “My bike! You have my bike!”
* * *
DEIRDRE WALKED TO LINA’S house. Instead of their usual wine night, they were going to help her pack for evacuation.
The smoke made the sunset spectacular, if hard to choke down. Deirdre’s skin was cracking and her hair stood on end. And the winds had picked up last night. She’d listened as they whistled around the eaves, alone in her bed, wishing like hell Walt was home.
This morning the horses’ tails were so electrified that Scarlet had started bucking, trying to get the static-snapping beast away from her, providing a brief moment of comic relief. Deirdre had put the lycra sock on her tail to save her from herself. Normally, that was for the night before a show, to keep a groomed or braided tail from getting messed up. But there was likely no show in Scarlet’s future. She hadn’t heard any official word, but the Del Rio show this coming Saturday would most likely get canceled. The racetrack was the official evacuation spot for large animals, and was already housing some refugees from the fires, which had raced north from the border and spread into East County.
As she reached the street, she heard yelling. She ran ahead, and when she got to the corner near Lina’s house and looked down Fairy Glen Road, she saw Rebecca’s small dark form standing in a cloud of dust. The throaty growl of an engine and red taillights retreated into the gloom. Her heart constricted. Rebecca slumped, turned, and trudged towards home. Deirdre stood and watched her, just long enough to make sure she was really going home and the car didn’t come back.
Was that the boy she’d tried to tell her about? Maybe she’d have to keep tighter tabs on Rebecca. She didn’t care if that drove a wedge between them. She thought Rebecca had better sense, but maybe she was starting to seek out boys who were like her dad. She had mentioned something about a bad boy. Or not a bad boy, she couldn’t remember. She’d talk to her tonight.
When she got to Lina’s it was prematurely dark. Bonnie had already hooked up Lina’s trailer and pulled it into the breezeway of the barn. She was telling Lina, “Leave it hooked up. We’ll stock it with everything you need, and that way you can just load the horses and go. Pack your valuables in this truck too. Make it easy.”
“I’m hopeless at driving a trailer.” Lina looked like a little girl. A very worried little girl.
Deirdre put an arm around her. “Hopefully Mike will be released from training if we end up having to evacuate.” Bonnie cleared her throat and gave her a meaningful look, and she added, “If we have to. Don’t overthink it.” She was saying it as much to herself as to Lina. She tried to lighten the mood. “Hoo-ey! Last night, now there was some stunt driving Bonnie! I’m glad we didn’t crash."
Lina slumped against her and said, “We all could’ve been dead, and the horses too.” Oops. So much for lightening the mood.
Bonnie said, “Oh ye of little faith in my driving skills. If anything was gonna die, it would’ve been that poor animal.”
“Yeah, it kinda came out of nowhere,” Deirdre said. Wind howled through the barn aisle, and Lina ran to slide the big doors closed as tiny bits of hay and dust stung Deirdre’s eyes. “What do you think it was? Kind of looked like a mountain lion.”
Bonnie said, “More likely a coyote or a bobcat.”
Walker and Jasmin, Mike’s chestnut quarter horse, neighed. One kicked the wall.
“Have you noticed your animals acting weird?” Deirdre said. “It’s like they know what’s coming. Like before an earthquake. That cougar probably knew it too.”
Bonnie lifted an eyebrow. “Oh Dee. That’s a myth.” She laughed. “Every time we’ve had an earthquake my dogs are just as surprised as me. Besides, it’s a wildfire. Everyone can smell the smoke, it doesn’t take any kind of sixth sense. Now, back to what we were doing. What were we doing?” Her forehead creased. “Oh yes. Water. Grab that hose for me Lina?”
They went on, chatting and giving Lina tips, until the trailer was stocked and ready to go.
“Now, do you want help with household things?” Deirdre asked Lina. “Photos, memorabilia?”
“I don’t have anything like that,” Lina said weakly. Damn. Deirdre could’ve smacked herself. Lina had barely gotten out of Bosnia alive. Of course she didn’t have family photos.
“Okay, what about Mike’s stuff? You could get a head start on that—’’ but Lina burst into tears before she finished. Bonnie gave Deirdre a reproachful look and hugged Lina, patting her on the back as she cried. “There there.”
“What?” Deirdre couldn’t figure out what she’d done wrong. Why was Bonnie tiptoeing around? “What did I say?”
Lina snuffled and pulled away from Bonnie. “I might as well tell you. Mike moved out.”
“Oh my god. When? I had no idea.”
“Last month. I’ve only told Bonnie so far. And now you.”
Last month? “Oh honey. I’m so sorry. Maybe you can work it out. Have you talked about counseling?” she asked. Lina shook her head.
Bonnie said, “There’s no reason to keep it a secret sweetie. We’ve all had our share of ups and downs, separations and infidelities…” At this, Lina began to sob again and fell into Deirdre’s arms. “Oh dear. Now I’ve stepped in it.” Bonnie said.
Lina wailed into Deirdre’s shoulder. “He doesn’t want counseling. He’s not coming back. He has a girlfriend!”
Deirdre bit her lip, holding back the words that wanted to fly out of her mouth. Fucking Bastard.
On her walk home in the hot windy darkness, Deirdre put it all together. The way Lina had been more nervous, more biting, more frazzled. Just flat out more annoying than usual. And the way she’d kept it all to herself. Poor thing.
She thought again of Stephanie, another young woman who had roused her sympathy. About the genuine admiration she’d felt when she’d gotten to know Stephanie in the hospital, the caring and kindness she’d sensed, the sympathy she’d felt when Steph had revealed her marital and financial problems. Her grief when Biscuit died.
And the twisting of the knife when she’d realized it had all been a sham. How could her instincts be so wrong? But then again, she’d missed all the clues about Lina, and Rebecca had tried to tell her about a boy and she hadn’t listened.
The lights of her house were up ahead, framed by bending palm trees doing aerobics in the wind against the weirdly lit sky. The almost full moon dodged in and out of the overhead haze.
She shook her head. She had thought Stephanie was a loving horse owner and mother. And speaking of mothers, she wished again she had Teresa’s phone number. If anyone was not fake, it was her. Maybe she could get it from Brian tomorrow. But, there was the restraining order.
But the thought kept nagging her—when she’d accused Stephanie of killing her horse, she swore the look of surprise was genuine. The rest might’ve been acting. But that was real.
And even if Stephanie had planned it, who had carried it out? There was no denying she’d been stuck in the hospital when Biscuit ‘kicked the bucket’ as Mrs. Fey would say.
Poor Biscuit. Those big, kind, dark eyes. She was the only true innocent in all of this.
She got to her front door, took a big breath, and went in. Time to ask Rebecca some questions. And this time, listen to her answers.
* * *
HECTOR PUT DOWN HIS field glasses. The kids had flown the coop, is that how they say it?
They’d gone off road through a gate that the boy had cut open with bolt cutters. The part of the valley with the old concrete slabs and pipes, some kind of abandoned camp of some sort, perhaps military. He thought back on his days in the jungles of Colombia. His first love affair, with guns, provided by none other than Uncle Sam, to fi
ght in their manufactured war. America had been good to him.
The kids hadn’t hidden themselves very well. That idiot with his giant orange automobile was visible from a mile away. The little badass, like his dad. Hector laughed, exuding scorn.
He put the glasses back up to his eyes. While the girl sat on a tree stump, crossed her legs, and lit a cigarette, the boy was doing his best to set up a camp of sorts in the light of a battery powered lantern. From the trunk he produced a small bicycle, a tent, a camp stove, some grocery bags. He had been so unpredictable, so hard to track, never where he was supposed to be. But here was his weakness.
His sister.
What was that English saying? A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.
He put the field glasses away. It was dark now, and he’d seen enough. Now, it was only a matter of waiting. Waiting for her to be alone.
Monday, October 22
“I’M NOT IN THE mood Mom.” That’s what Rebecca had said last night before she went into the bedroom and closed the door, not willing to talk about who she’d been yelling at or why.
“We have to talk sometime!” Deirdre had shouted. But of course, there was no response.
This morning, Rebecca was sullen but slightly sheepish as she asked for a ride to school. She dropped her off last, hoping she wanted to talk in the car, but that didn’t happen. Instead, they continued their intermittent sniping. Deirdre held herself back from any threats or punishments. She’d wait for Walt to come home. He had a way of steadying Rebecca, especially since she’d moved back home.
She watched her daughter, small and dark, march into the high school and be subsumed by the crowd of willowy blonds.
To be honest, Walt had a way of steadying Deirdre too. She didn’t trust her own judgment anymore, not even about her own daughter. Granted, Rebecca was an enigma. She’d always been a rebel, but one with fairly good sense. She hoped that good sense would carry until Friday when Walt came home.
October's Fire (Fairy Glen Suspense Book 1) Page 28