Bone Walker: Book III of the Anasazi Mysteries (31 page)

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Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear,W. Michael Gear

BOOK: Bone Walker: Book III of the Anasazi Mysteries
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“Browser, you are one of the First People,” she said with the patience a mother would use with a child. “So am I. I have lived in fear and loneliness for sun cycles. I have nowhere to go. My father wants me dead. He wants to cut the beating heart from my body, and put it into his own chest so that he can live forever.”
A soft sound, like claws on stone, came from the
passageway. Obsidian swallowed hard and listened. Browser knew it was a pack rat. He’d seen the little animal earlier in the day, but Obsidian waited until she could identify it, too.
She turned back and whispered, “I wish you to think about something. I have talked to White Cone. He says we would be welcome among the Mogollon. The Bow Society would guarantee our safety. You, Catkin, and me.”
Browser frowned in confusion.
Obsidian met his eyes, then rose and gracefully walked away. She stood in the far corner, where the shadows lay deepest, her cloak swaying about her.
“I know that you love Catkin, Browser. Unlike many of our people, I don’t mind living with Made People.” She shifted and the warming bowl’s gleam illuminated her face. “And I don’t mind being a second wife. Over time, I hope that I might earn some of your love.”
Browser felt numb. “Obsidian, I don’t think—”
“Don’t you understand?” Her hands tightened to fists. “I have no life here! Most of my friends died when Longtail village burned. Men sneak into my chamber in the middle of the night, expecting me to open my legs like some camp bitch, because Shadow lay with them the night before. Do you know what that’s like? What I have had to do to protect myself?”
“I’m sure it has been difficult for you, but—”
“Shadow said that she’d had you,” Obsidian whispered. “That you had a staff like fire-hardened piñon.” She leaned her head back, exposing her perfect throat. “Gods, I’m tired of this. I can’t do it any longer, Browser. You know the truth, and I’m glad of it. I only ask one thing. Take me as your wife. If you will do that, I will do anything you ask of me.”
Browser watched as she tightened her arms beneath her breasts, causing them to swell over the fabric of her dress. “I need time to consider this, Obsidian.”
“I have nothing but myself to offer you, Browser. I
pray that that is enough.” She shook her head and her hair tumbled from her hood.
Browser rose unsteadily to his feet. “Obsidian, I will not leave the Katsinas’ People. They need me.”
“But we could all go!” She spun around and her cape whirled like a summer dust devil. “There aren’t very many Katsinas’ People. Why can’t we all go south?”
Browser tied his war club to his belt and reached for his bow and quiver. “Give me some time to think on this, Obsidian. There are others I must speak with.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” she said and looked up at him as though he knew more than the gods themselves. “I will wait for your answer.”
Browser nodded and left the chamber. His steps echoed down the long hallway, but he barely heard them. As he rounded the corner, he saw Catkin.
She stood guard, looking out the window to the east. Starlight gilded her tall lanky body and glimmered in her short black hair.
“Ready?” he called as he neared her position.
“Yes,” she said, and followed him.
But her steps were uneasy, too light, like a woman afraid of being attacked from behind.
 
 
DUSTY SIGNED THE last of the forms and slid them across the counter to the uniformed policeman, feeling hollow and sick all the while. The officer carefully checked the signature before he plucked a ring of keys from the Peg-Board behind him. “It’s parked in space twelve. Give that other copy to the lot attendant and he’ll let you out.”
“Thanks.” Dusty took Dale’s keys.
Maureen said, “Why don’t you drive me around to the Bronco, and I’ll drive it home.”
“It’s a deal.” Dusty looked down at the keys. Something wasn’t right. “Excuse me. Where are the other keys?”
The cop raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, he had more keys. Where are they?”
“Those keys were in the vehicle when the FBI wrote the impound request. We checked. If you think there should be more, you’ll need to take it up with the officer in charge of the investigation.”
Dusty fingered the keys, cataloging each as he touched it. “Right,” he said. “Thanks.”
He led the way down the hall and through the side door that led to the impound lot.
Once they were outside in the bright sunlight, he turned to Maureen. “I’ve used these keys a thousand times. His house key, office key, the key to my trailer in Santa Fe, and his UNM office keys are missing.”
Maureen’s dark eyes narrowed. “We’d better call Agent Nichols right now.”
Maureen reached into her purse, fished out her cell phone, and punched in Sam Nichols’s number. She spoke for a short time, nodded, and pressed END.
“Nichols is out of the office,” she said. “I suspect he’s in Santa Fe having a nice chat with Ruth Ann. His secretary said she’d give him the information. Meanwhile, we’d better see to changing the locks.”
Dusty frowned. “How could the FBI have missed that?”
“The FBI had no way of knowing how many keys Dale had on his ring.”
Dusty handed the paper to the attendant, a Hispanic in overalls who walked across to meet them. He had ORTIZ stenciled above his breast pocket. The man checked the signatures and pointed at the motorized gate. “Go through the gate and turn right.”
“Thanks.”
As Dusty headed for the familiar red Dodge pickup, his leg muscles seemed to turn to lead. They grew
heavier with every step, until he could barely force them to take him to the truck.
He stopped by the driver’s door. The truck looked dingy. Road grime and city dust had settled on the vehicle in a gray-brown film.
As he reached for the door handle, a sudden feeling possessed him.
He stopped, unable to touch the truck, and turned to Maureen. “The officer said they’d found Dale’s keys in his truck? That can’t be right, Maureen.”
She propped her arm on the bed. “Why not? It was late at night, he probably figured no one else would be around.”
Dusty jangled the keys. “So, Dale gets out of the truck thinking … what? He must have been nervous about meeting someone in the dark. He
knew
someone was out there waiting for him. He might not have locked the truck, but he’d have taken his keys. I’m sure of it.”
Maureen brushed strands of windblown black hair from her face. “If you’re right, someone went through his pockets, found the keys, and put them back in the vehicle.”
Dusty shook the keys at her. “And just left the old house key and the keys to the truck?”
He could see understanding dawn in her widening eyes. “My God. You mean he knew which keys to take.”
“Yes.”
They stared at each other; then Dusty unlocked the truck door and pushed the button to unlock Maureen’s door. He climbed into the driver’s seat with a queer feeling in his gut. The dash sparkled with faint traces of the powder the police had used to dust for prints.
As he started the engine, he said, “The man who killed Dale has a key to my house, Maureen.”
“We’ll change the locks. First thing.”
Dusty adjusted the mirrors and put the truck in reverse.
“That doesn’t mean he hasn’t already been there—or isn’t there now, for that matter.”
Maureen made a tense gesture with her hand. “Let’s just go, Dusty. We have a lot of things to do. Especially you.”
He eased out of the space and headed down the lane, following the EXIT arrows. Every time he blinked an afterimage of Dale’s panicked face glowed on the backs of his eyelids. Was Dale trying to tell him something?
He turned down another lane and said, “What do you mean, especially me?”
“It’s not important.”
“Tell me. Maybe it’ll take my mind off the keys.”
“Well, it’s just that, when all the paperwork is finished, you’ll get his house, his possessions. What are you going to do with them?”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead.” Dusty turned down a new lane, heading for the lot exit. “I’m not sure I’m ready to think about Dale’s stuff yet, Maureen.”
She braced one hand on the overhead strap. “Well, there’s no rush. I left John’s things for more than a year before I made the first sort.”
“A year?”
“Yes. I needed time to convince myself that I could put his favorite shirt into the Goodwill box. It wasn’t easy. My heart needed to heal before I could face throwing away his personal treasures.”
“What makes you think I’d throw them away?”
“You can’t keep everything, Dusty. Sure, the artifacts are important, but what about all of the birthday cards he’s kept for fifty or sixty years, the knickknacks, and faded newspaper articles? What about his clothes, his furniture? Do you want that house? If so, do you want it furnished the way he left it?”
Dusty glared out the window, irritated that the lot attendant was waiting for him at the open gate. He
waved as he passed and headed down the street. He stopped beside the Bronco and Maureen climbed out.
“See you soon,” she said.
He nodded, and watched her open the Bronco door. Traffic was piling up behind him as he eased the clutch out and headed down the street toward the office.
The keys
.
Dear God
.
Whoever killed Dale must have watched him use the keys
.
It had to be someone very close to Dale. No wonder I’m a suspect
.
Dusty’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
But if the killer was that close to Dale, he’s also close to me
.
 
 
COLD SUNLIGHT DRENCHES the tan cliff and shoots like arrows into Piper’s eyes.
“
Did you tell him that I knew you
?”
Piper tries hard not to cry out as Aunt Obsidian twists her arm.
“
Answer me!
”
They stand in a tumbled pile of rocks behind Kettle Town, but on the second-story porch, warriors perch, watching the stairs cut into the cliff behind Piper. They do not see her, but she sees them through the cracks in the rocks.
Aunt Obsidian kneels in front of Piper and her eyes are a dead flying squirrel’s, huge and bulging, filled with anger. Her black hood waffles around her face in the icy wind.
She shakes Piper so hard that Piper’s head snaps back and pain flies down her spine. A sharp squeak comes up her throat, but she keeps it locked behind her clenched teeth.
“What are you doing here?” Aunt Obsidian’s voice
is a snake’s hiss. “Did your mother send you to spy on me?”
Piper hears, but she doesn’t really. She has put her breath-heart soul in the boulder in front of her, and all it hears is Wind Baby whistling around the corners of Kettle Town.
“You are a bad girl!” Aunt Obsidian whispers and shoves Piper hard into the rocks. Gravel scritches beneath her sandals, and she almost falls. “No wonder Father hates you!”
Piper tries to live inside the tears of the boulder, and she feels very old and sad, as though the boulder thinks it’s dying, and is frightened. She peers at the ground and sees small rocks and sand that have fallen from the boulder, and she knows why it’s scared. It doesn’t want to fall to pieces.
“Wait until that old man finds out who you are. He’ll order his warriors to take you out into the desert and leave you, without food or water, so you’ll die. Do you hear me?”
Piper sucks her lip.
Aunt Obsidian slaps Piper and her feet go out from under her. She hits the ground hard and lies on her belly among the fallen rocks and sand, a piece of the boulder that is alone now. If she listens very hard, she can hear the boulder crying.
Aunt Obsidian lifts a finger and stabs it at Piper. “I have a chance, Piper. One single chance to live like a normal woman. Go home!”
Tears fill Aunt Obsidian’s eyes as she turns and stamps away through the rocks toward the town.
Piper breathes in the dust from the boulder’s skin and wonders if she has swallowed part of its breath-heart soul, if right now the boulder is living inside her.
Piper wraps her arms around herself and curls onto her side, trying to keep the boulder safe and warm.
Up above her …
Wings flutter.
Owl lands on the top of the boulder, cocks his head, and peers down at Piper. He is big and gray.
She whispers, “I wish she were dead.”

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