“I love it.” I couldn’t believe I held the red rock in my hand. The rock from Chaco. It was warm and the essence of the mystery and beauty of the Southwest. “It reminded me of a fetish. It just feels . . . good in my hand. You know?”
His two large hands encompassed mine and the red rock. “I do know. A small piece of Chaco. It’s mine to give.” He chuckled. “As long as those Navajo don’t find out!”
I hugged him. Inappropriate or not, I couldn’t help myself. He laughed and hugged me back. “A great hug like that for a little red rock. Marvelous.”
The governor stood to leave.
“I wish you didn’t have to leave so soon,” I said.
“Time.”
I walked him to the door.
“One more thing,” he said. “Someone is tracking you. He slouches, like a bum, and blends in well. If, for some reason, I fail . . . it matters that you find the skull. You, Tally. I don’t mean to burden you, but truth is truth.” He walked slowly down the steps as if he’d aged ten years.
Following me. What made me so interesting? I peeked out my bedroom window. My bucolic street looked lovely, the leaves on the trees turning vermillion and orange and yellow. A few had already drifted to the ground. They and danced on the breeze.
A couple held hands, swinging them like a pendulum, smiles on their flushed faces.
I pictured them living simple and beautiful lives—work, movies, books, making love, cooking, vacations at the shore. I should picture myself doing those things. Yet I couldn’t imagine it for me. My life had never been simple, pleasant, or comfortable.
Life could be that way now. I had the money. The time. No encumbrance. Except I was itchy. Waiting for that other shoe to drop.
Outside, no one else appeared on the street. So who was following me and why? Or maybe the governor was imagining things, like witches. God, these dramas got tedious.
I let the curtain fall back across the window.
I sat on the bed and leaned forward to scratch Penny’s belly. “Belly rub, Pens!” She sprawled onto her back, per usual. “You are shameless.”
Kaboom! Shards of pain stabbed my back and head.
CHAPTER TEN
“What the hell!” Hank said as he squeezed his large frame into my emergency room cubicle at Brigham and Women’s Hospital.
I yawned, tightened the nasty johnny they’d wrapped me in after cleaning the glass shards from my back. “I got some Demerol,” I said. “Not sure why. Hell, by the way, has nothing to do with it.” I smiled. Hank looked so darned cute when he was angry.
He wrapped his paws around my upper arms.
“Ow! You’re mean.”
He instantly freed me. “Dammit, Tally. What happened? The nurse outside won’t say shit.”
He had the cutest, bushiest mustache. It was auburn, and it tickled when he kissed me. I licked my lips and leaned forward. I puckered up.
“Tally, dammit! First your face, now this!” His hand brushed the bandage on my cheek, and I giggled.
Hank was scowling again.
“Gee,” I said. “What’s a girl gotta do to get a kiss around here?”
“You sound like a Playboy bunny, fa Christ sake!”
A white-coat poked her head in. “Sir. You’ll have to keep it down.”
He flipped open his billfold and held it up to her face.
“Rude,” I said. “Rude, rude, rude.”
The doctor squinted. “You’re a police lieutenant? Are Ms. Whyte’s injuries a police matter, Lieutenant Cunningham?”
“Ayuh,” he said. “Dammed well straight.”
“Hank,” I said. “You sound so . . . Maine. My window just broke.”
Fury ripped across his face. “Someone shot the fucking window out, Tally.”
Shot. Oh. “Maybe.” I leaned against him and closed my eyes. Lieutenant Cunningham. I liked that. Sounded good. A good name. But he was Sheriff Cunningham. My sheriff. My lieutenant. Lieutenant?
“You’re not a lieutenant.” I giggled and swung my legs. “Oops. Shouldn’t fib.”
“Lie down, Ms. Whyte,” the doctor said. She lifted my legs onto the gurney and pulled a blanket to my chin. “I’m a nurse, dear. Why don’t you try to rest?”
I was so tired. But . . . “Hank Cunningham! Tell her the truth. You are a sheriff!”
“Dear,” the nurse said.
“Don’t call me ‘dear.’ I’m not your dear.” I sat up. “And he’s a sheriff, dear.”
A feminine hand shoved a badge into my face. “No, dear, he’s a Massachusetts State Police lieutenant.”
“Tally, I . . .”
The world got all fuzzy and bright yellow, and white noise hissed in my head. Hank? A Mass. State Police officer? And he’d been lying to me the whole time. Lying to me. He’d been . . .
I turned on my side and slept.
Gert fetched me from the hospital. I had no idea what day it was. Demerol does that to me. My ferocious headache had quelled, and now all I wanted to do was get out of there. I was really okay. Just achy. Very, very achy.
And pissed. Very pissed at Hank Cunningham. I had asked him not to come back, and he hadn’t. Did he think I meant it?
“How long was I in the hospital?” I asked.
“Twenty-four hours,” she said.
“That’s more than enough for me.” A moment of panic. “Who’s got Penny?”
“Your hunky landlord. Yum, yum.”
“He is adorable, isn’t he? But definitely off limits, Gertie. He likes a smorgasbord, not one dish.”
“I know.” She frowned. “What a shame.”
On the drive to my apartment, Gert remained disturbingly quiet but for the popping of her Bazooka bubbles. They filled the air. Purple bubbles. Smelly ones.
“I’m fine, Gert. Really. So no worries. Okay?”
“Don’t,” she said. “You’re a mess.”
I didn’t have the energy to fight. Not then.
I used Gert’s arm and the railing to climb the small flight of stairs, thrilled that my apartment was on the first floor. Someone had nailed a plywood board across the yawning bow window in my bedroom. I guessed it was my landlord, Jake.
Inside, Penny greeted me with her usual bouncy exuberance. I was prepared for the place to be a shambles. Except for some residue fingerprint dust, it was neat by even my Aunt Bertha’s standards.
“Wow,” I said. “I thought it would be a wreck. Who cl—”
“Mr. Maine,” Gert said.
“Hank? Wow again.”
Gert slid my purse off my shoulder and laid it on the kitchen counter.
“Thanks, Gertie.”
“Sure, Tal,” she said. “How about I make you some soup or something?”
“Not now. Maybe I’ll just take a snoozle.” I opened the door to my bedroom. Another shock.
“Impressive!” Gert said.
New sheets, new duvet cover, new everything. A few down feather escapees from the vacuum floated on the air. Other than that and the plywood, I never would have known anything had happened.
“Boy,” Gert said. “I’d marry that guy really fast.”
“Great plan. Not.” I sat down hard on the edge of the bed. “He’d have gotten me good if I hadn’t leaned over to pet Penny. There are worse things than flying glass.” I ruffled Penny’s fur. “I’m glad she wasn’t hurt.”
Gert’s blue eyes widened. I recognized the fear in them. I took her hand. “Don’t worry, hon. All is well. Really.”
She slumped down beside me. “How can you say that? You’ve just had your window blown out by a shotgun, and you’re not talkin’ to the guy who did this great cleanup, and I’m afraid you won’t come back to MGAP and—”
“Sshhhh.” I wrapped an arm around her shoulder. I walked to a bowl on the bedside table. Someone had placed a small pile of shot in it. I picked up one of the small pellets. I looked from the bed to the boarded-up window. “Huh. Bird shot. I think it was supposed to be a warning, not meant to hurt me at all. Ce
rtainly this wasn’t meant to kill. Bird shot’s too small.”
“Yeah? That’s just special, Tal. C’mon! That’s almost as awful.”
I tugged on one of her blond locks. “But not quite, right? How about that soup.”
I sat up on the couch. I’d slept for a few minutes, that was all. Except my clock said I’d been out of it for ten hours.
“Cripes.” I ran a hand through my hair. Greasy and gross. Yuck. I needed a shower. Bad. I looked for Gert, but didn’t see her. The place was dark, too. Not enough lights on.
“Gert?”
Nada. Maybe she’d gone out for food. Was I hungry? I didn’t even know.
I unfolded myself from the couch. I ached in so many places I wasn’t sure which to groan about first. I let Penny out back, walked into the bathroom and . . . Some guy was . . . “Shit!”
I slammed the bathroom door and shoved the club chair in front of it. That wouldn’t keep him in.
I twirled. The redwood table! Weighed a ton. I began to pull. The thing was massive, but I could do it.
“Tally!”
I turned. Somehow he’d wedged the door slightly open, and a hairy arm flailed from the crack. I leapt at the door.
“Fuck!” he bellowed.
I pushed and pushed, but I wasn’t making any headway.
“It’s Rob, goddammit.”
Rob. Kranak? Oh, crap. I stopped pushing, and the arm slid back inside. I tugged the chair out of the way. “Rob, I—”
“Don’t utter a frickin’ word,” he said from behind the door.
“I’m so sorry, I thought you were an intruder.”
“Brilliant.”
“You can come on out now. I’ll get you some tea.” Kranak loved tea.
Behind me, a large and looming presence coalesced as I filled the kettle with water and put it on the burner. “Rose hips, cinnamon, orange p—”
“Bourbon flavored.”
I looked over my shoulder. “I am so sorry.”
He was shirtless, and a nasty red mark blotched his forearm. His right hand held my bottle of Rebel Yell.
“I really am, Rob.” I poured his tea, and he dumped in a solid dose of comfort from the bourbon.
“You’ll be sorrier when you hear what I have to say.”
I leaned back on the couch, reminded how much my body ached from all those nasty little cuts. Penny sprawled beside me, her large head in my lap. Kranak had put on his shirt, and as he buttoned it, I saw that the bottom button was missing.
“I can sew that on for you,” I said.
“You with a needle? That’s the last thing I want.” He finished buttoning, then rolled up his sleeves. “Some bad shit’s come down, Tal, and I think you should know about it.”
“The guy on the Vineyard?”
He shook his head.
“Your sweetie pie.” His lips curled in distaste.
“C’mon, Rob, don’t do that.”
He notched his chin. “Whatever. He’s with us now.”
“The state police. Yes, I know.”
He snorted. “You coulda told me.”
“I only just found out, Rob.”
He tipped the bottle of Rebel Yell one more time. “Sure you did.”
“I did! Dammit, Rob.” My head jabbed with pain.
“So loverboy figures that the governor did Doc Cravitz. He’s been working on it. Circling like a vulture.”
I leaned forward. A chill skated up my spine. “Why does he think that? I can’t believe this. What about other suspects?”
Kranak slammed his mug on the table. “None that he wants to see. And he’s a De-tec-tive.”
“C’mon, Rob, don’t. You refuse to be anything but CSS, and you know it. Listen, I had no idea. None. Not until I was in the hospital. I would have told you.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, well, he’s got his own ideas of who to tell. I’m sure as hell not in his loop.” He checked his watch.
“What?” I didn’t like the way this conversation was playing out. Or Rob’s whole self-satisfied aura. Not one bit. “Why are you being so smug?”
The clock on my mantel chimed. I looked from it to him. He smiled, and it wasn’t pretty. I stood. “What the hell is going on?”
“Smug? Well, maybe. See right about now, loverboy’s arresting Mr. Governor Pooh-Bah. It’s a fucked-up get, but he’s doing it anyway.”
“Dammit.” I raced to the bedroom and slammed the door. I shucked my nightie, pulled on some clean jeans, and grabbed a turtleneck and socks. I might smell, but at least my clothes were decent. I snapped my jeans and began to fasten my bra, thought better of it through the haze of pain in my back, and slipped on a camisole instead. Turtleneck, check. Socks, check. Shoes, wallet.
I raced the front door, lifted the leash off it hook. “Come, Penny. Ke mne!”
“Hold the fuck on, Tal,” Kranak yelled.
I ignored him as I flew outside and down the steps.
I ran, Penny beside me, until we hit Tremont, where we hopped a cab. Quicker that way than driving myself. I gasped out Seaport Hotel—one of Boston’s biggies—and the guy knew just where to go.
“You in a rush, ma’am?” he asked in a thickly accented voice.
“I am.”
He varoomed.
It still took us fifteen minutes, what with Boston’s crazy roads and nasty traffic. We were near Boston’s World Trade Center and the fish pier, and I knew I’d have to run again. I leashed Penny, got the money out, and was off the minute traffic clogged on Northern Avenue.
Good thing. Up ahead about a block, I spotted a yellow sawhorse and a uniformed cop standing duty. I slowed, regulated my breathing, gave Penny a treat for being such a good girl. Then I walked quietly, unhurriedly. If I sped up, the cop would suspect something.
“Hi,” I said. Penny stood beside me, on alert, and I believed the police officer sensed her tension. The kid looked about twelve years old.
“What can I do for you, ma’am?” he asked. His eyes continued to roam the scene.
“I’m with OCME.” I flipped open my wallet with my out-of-date credentials. I suddenly felt an utter loss of identity.
He looked over his shoulder, as if searching for someone. “And you’re here because . . . ?”
“Oh, sorry. I . . . yes.” I waved toward the plaza and the hotel where the governor was staying. “Him. We got a call.”
“We.” He looked nervously at Penny, then quickly looked away.
“I know, three legs. She’s Canine Corps. She does the work of most four-legged dogs. We were called.”
“By . . . ?”
“Detective Lieutenant Cunningham.”
He lifted his walkie-talkie.
“Huh,” I said. “So the situation isn’t so dire, eh?”
He pale cheeks flushed. Confusion muddied his eyes. “Pardon?”
“You wouldn’t be calling if things were really bad.” I smiled. Gave it all I was worth. “I’m relieved.” I made sure to sound chirpy.
“Well, um.”
I pushed a hand into my jeans pocket. “See, we’re only usually called when things go south. Penny here is a great tracker. They’ve called for other dogs, but Penny was closest.”
“Um, well I . . . sure. Just a sec.” He slid the crime scene sawhorse out of the way. “I’ll walk with you.”
“Great.” Half a loaf was better than none. “Your name is . . . ?”
“Officer Enoch Gillano.”
“Nice to meet—”
“Down!” he screamed. “Get down!”
Someone knocked into me, and I flew off my feet and slammed into the concrete, palms first. I shouted “Lehni, Penny! Down!” as bullet booms and bings exploded around me.
Screams and more shouts and what sounded like a hailstorm of fire burst around me.
I rolled over to Penny. She seemed fine, and we cowered together, one hand covering my head, the other wrapped around my dog. It felt like I was living in molasses time as I breathed in and out and shivered. My p
alms burned from the gravel jammed into them when I fell.
Hank. Dear God, Hank.
I peered around. From my pancake position all I saw were the undercarriages of cars. The noise was deafening, with bullhorns and bullets and shouts. Then it got quiet, and I wanted to move. I thought maybe I’d crawl to my knees and see if I could spot Hank. But just as I was about to push to my knees, I realized that if the bad guys didn’t shoot me, Hank would if he caught me doing something that stupid.
My cheek throbbed where Izod man had cut me. I checked Penny again. She was fine, hadn’t been hit. If this was all about the governor, this was the stupidest . . .
The gunfire slowed again, and I turned my head toward Officer Gillano. His flushed face was now pale, and fear furrowed his brow, but when he saw me looking, he gave a thumbs up and a wink.
I gave it back to him, and the pounding started all over again. I scooched Penny closer to the sedan parked by the curb. Maybe smart, maybe stupid. I just didn’t know.
Still, then noise, then still again. The back-and-forth seemed like forever. But then things quieted, not all at once, but the way the rain gradually slows, then stops all together.
I heard shouts, recognized Hank’s voice. Thank God.
I yelled, “Hank!”
Someone hollered, “All clear!”
I pushed to my knees. “Ouch!” My palms were raw from the fall. “Come on, Pens. Let’s go find Hank.” I scratched her behind her ears. Her tail wagged, and she licked my good cheek. She was fine. “Hey, officer, I could sure use a hand up.” I turned toward Gillano.
He stared at me, unblinking, eyes glazed.
“Officer?” I scooched over to where he lay prone on the ground. And then I saw one hand unnaturally twisted and a sluggish drool of deep red dripping from his mouth to the pavement.
“Enoch?” I whispered.
In the distance, muffled chatter. But here, silence. Penny whined.
“Enoch?” I pressed to fingers to his neck, praying for the tha-thump that said “life.”
I found death in the flesh that had lost its resilience. When I looked for his wound, I saw the back of his head had been blown away.
I took Enoch’s hand, the one that lay by his side, and held it in both of mine. “Oh, Enoch, I am so sorry. So sorry. I pray you walk in beauty now, and in places far sweeter than these.”
The Bone Man Page 10