Ghoul Interrupted (35 page)

“Who does that leave, then?” Heath asked.

I closed my eyes and thought back to something that I’d heard on Bissell’s answering machine. “He said that someone knew he had the vessel,” I said softly.

“What?”

I opened my eyes. “Wyatt. On the voice message, he said that someone knew he had the vessel and was after him.”

“The person controlling the demon,” Heath supplied.

I nodded. “And then you said something, Heath. . . .” I closed my eyes again, because I knew that the biggest clue was lying right there in the puddle of facts we’d just sifted through. But the more I tried to find it, the more the clutter seemed to get in the way. My mind flipped back to that slip of paper found in Trudy’s hand, and then shot forward again to an image of Heath sitting at Bissell’s table, sifting through the photos and appraisals. And then, in an instant, I had it! My eyes flew open and I stared at Heath in shock. “Holy
shit
!” I exclaimed, putting the phone back to my ear so that Gilley could hear too. “Guys! I said excitedly. “I think I know who controls the demon and who murdered Milton and Beverly!”

Heath gently eased his shovel underneath something long and thick buried in the same cave where we’d discovered the Whitefeather urn. Gilley shifted nervously next to me, his eyes continually darting to the front of the cave entrance. I knew he didn’t want to be here, and I’d even offered to have him stay behind, but in an odd moment of bravery he’d opted to come. I could tell by his expression that he was seriously regretting that decision.

Heath tilted the handle of the shovel and something truly foul smelling crept up through the soil. “Bach!” I exclaimed, covering my nose with my arm.

Gilley hurried to the mouth of the cave, his hand covering his own mouth while he pinched his nose. For a minute, I really thought he was going to lose his lunch.

Heath had backed away too, and he pulled out a bandanna from his back pocket, wrapping it around his face before he began to pile the small amount of dirt he’d excavated back over the dead body he’d just disturbed.

I tried not to breathe more than I had to until he was done, and then the pair of us wordlessly moved to the mouth of the cave and motioned Gil down the slope.

“That was the worst thing I’ve ever smelled!” Gilley exclaimed, taking long leaps down the side of the hill.

I said nothing, lost in thought because now that I’d confirmed where Wyatt was, the rest of my plan felt far too flimsy. “How’d you know he’d be there?” Heath asked when we were partially down the slope.

“I couldn’t figure out why Beverly had been killed,” I said. “I mean, I know she married a Whitefeather, but the only reason to attack her specifically was if she saw something. Since no one ever heard from Wyatt again after he left that voice message for Professor Bissell, I figured he was probably killed right after he called Pena. Pena then took his body here to bury it, and Beverly—who was on her way to check out the spot where Milton was going to be buried—must have seen something she shouldn’t have.”

“I’d like to rip Pena apart,” Heath said angrily.

I put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not Pena calling the shots, Heath. It’s the demon.”

I had already figured out that Trudy had in fact called Pena, and that’s what triggered the demon showing up at her trailer. I’d also figured out why Pena had “hired” us. He’d wanted to keep tabs on us and our investigation, especially after he and the demon hadn’t managed to kill Gilley or me at the station. He’d known we were there on the reservation—the demon must have sensed us near the library—but he’d kept his cool and waited for Cruz to depart the area; Cruz, after all, wasn’t a Whitefeather, and maybe there was a residual part of Pena that still cared about his deputy.

And I knew that the demon would want to take care of the Whitefeathers one at a time, picking them off one by one, but I’d been pretty convinced it would go after the Whitefeathers in order. Milton was obviously the firstborn; then it’d been about to get to Mrs. Lujan when we were at John’s lodge, but what flummoxed me was Ray. Why had it bothered with Rex’s son before going after Rex—and for that matter, why had it skipped over Vernon to go after Sam’s youngest son?

I’d concluded that it’d been nothing more than opportunity. Pena was obviously trailing us, looking for said opportunity, and when he and the demon saw Ray Whitefeather alone and vulnerable in that shell of a house, well, he and it had moved in for the kill. It was sheer luck that Ray had survived.

We arrived at the bottom of the slope and made our way back to Heath’s Durango, parked not far away. Gilley edged over to a patch of sagebrush where we’d hidden the rental car in case things went south. I got out Mrs. Lujan’s urn from the front seat of the Durango and set it down nearby and then I remembered something and opened the rear door to get out the original Whitefeather urn, carefully carrying it to the rental car and tucking it into the front seat. I didn’t want Pena anywhere near that precious urn. “Here he comes,” Heath said, and I closed the door of the rental and hurried to his side to face the approaching cloud of dust making its way toward us. And then I saw something else and my heart sank.

“Dammit!” I swore. “Why the hell is he bringing Cruz?”

“We told him to come alone!” Gilley squeaked. I glanced to my side and Gil was wringing the hem of his trusty sweatshirt.

We didn’t even have time to come up with an alternate plan—Pena and Cruz were closing in. “We’ll have to do the best that we can,” I told them. “Just get Pena into Heath’s car, and Gil, you hit that switch to lock him in, okay? The magnets should do the trick and we’ll deal with the consequences.”

The plan I’d come up with was to trick Pena into getting into Heath’s SUV, which we’d padded with about three hundred pounds of magnets from stem to stern. It’d taken us all day to tack the magnets in place, but if we could get Pena into the Durango and lock him in, then we might be able to generate a break in the hold the demon had on him.

After that, it was just a matter of holding up Mrs. Lujan’s new vessel and begging Sam for some help, because I had no idea how to get the demon genie back in its bottle.

“Maybe we should abort,” Heath said, his knuckles white as he gripped the shovel.

But it was too late. In the next few seconds Cruz and Pena had come to a stop in front of us and they each got off their three-wheelers and came to stand in front of us. “What’s this about a dead body?” Pena asked, getting right to the point.

None of us spoke for a minute—I think we were all still wondering how this would go—so Pena took off his mirrored sunglasses and squinted at me. “M. J.?” he said. “You okay? You look a little pale.”

I found my voice, but it was anything but steady. “I’m fine,” I said. “The body’s in the back of Heath’s SUV.”

I looked at Heath to lead the way and for a second I didn’t know if he was going to play along, or swing that shovel up and pummel the sheriff. Finally, he pivoted on his foot and moved over to the back of his SUV, where we’d put some pillows under a thick blanket as a prop and positioned it in the very back of the Durango.

While I walked with Heath and Pena over to the rear of the SUV, a quick-thinking Gilley was doing his best to distract Cruz away from his efforts to follow. And one glance over my shoulder suggested he was succeeding.

Cruz didn’t like Gilley; that much was obvious. Maybe the guy was a homophobe or maybe he just found Gil annoying, but he backed up several feet as Gil pretended to take a shine to his physique, even asking if he could feel the deputy’s biceps, which allowed us the chance to maneuver Pena over to the rear door of the Durango without trouble.

“He’s in there,” Heath said, opening the door wide so that Pena could look in. Without hesitation, Pena moved into the backseat and propped his elbows on the headrest.

“You covered him,” Pena remarked, leaning over the seat to pull at the blanket. Heath and I made our move.

In one swift action I reached in and, unlatching the small leather catch, jerked Pena’s gun out of its holster, while Heath dropped the shovel, grabbed Pena by the legs, and pushed him all the way into the car. The moment Heath was out of the way, I slammed the door shut, leaned against it, and shouted, “Gilley!”

An instant later Pena couldn’t do anything more than yell in protest; all five locks on the Durango clicked home.

Gilley then dashed away from Cruz to stand with us, while Pena straightened himself in the backseat and tried the handle. “Hey!” he shouted through the glass. “Unlock this door!”

Heath and I ignored him, swiveling around to try to talk to Cruz. “What the hell’s going on?” the deputy roared, stepping quickly forward, with his hand on his own gun.

“Wait a second, Deputy!” I said, dropping Pena’s weapon into the dirt and holding up my hands to show him that I meant him no harm. “Please, just give us one second to explain!”

“Whitefeather!”
Pena roared behind us. “Open this goddamn door!”

“Jimmy,” Heath said to the deputy, his back still to Pena. “Seriously, give us just a few seconds to explain.”

Cruz’s eyes darted back and forth between Heath and me. I could tell he was trying to assess the scene. “What’s going on?” he said.

I exhaled. He was going to let us explain! “I know you don’t believe in this whole black hawk demon thing,” I told him in a rush. “But I’m here to tell you, the demon isn’t just a legend—it’s real. And like most demons, it needs a human host to help it accomplish its goals. Pena is that human host. It’s possessed Pena and it’s controlling him. Tonight, as soon as dusk hits, it’ll emerge from Pena’s body and go on the hunt looking for more victims. It got to Daryl and Trudy West, Milton and Beverly, and Wyatt Benoit, who’s buried up that slope in one of those caves.”

Cruz, who’d been holding a slightly crouched position while he listened to me, did something unexpected at the end of my speech. He stood straight again, took his hand off his gun, and laughed.

“Why’s he laughing?” Gilley said, coming over to stand next to me again.

I couldn’t even fathom it. Meanwhile Pena continued to pound on the glass and we continued to ignore him.

Cruz removed his mirrored shades, and as he did so, a tiny spark of red flashed from their dark depths. “Oh . . .
shit
!” I cried, reaching out to grab Heath by the shirt.

“What?”
Gilley shrieked, moving in to huddle next to me. “What is it?”

“It wasn’t Pena!” I gasped, pointing to Cruz. “It was
you
!”

A growl rumbled along the ground from somewhere nearby and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up on end. I remembered something at that moment—a key piece of the puzzle that I’d never put together. When Heath had given Trudy the slip of paper, he’d said, “This is the number to the Zanto Pueblo sheriff’s station. Ask for Sheriff Pena.” He hadn’t given Trudy Pena’s number. He’d given her the
station’s
number.

I knew, deep in my bones, that Cruz had taken that call. It was Cruz who’d intercepted the two grave robbers. That’s why Trudy hadn’t been notified that her grandson was dead. Cruz was trying to find Wyatt without Pena knowing about it. He’d probably held back on the details of the remains found in the desert belonging to Daryl, and I wondered if that’s why Pena had lied about being at the dentist’s office when Cruz asked him where he’d been when Rex was found. He was probably wondering how much to trust Cruz once he’d talked to Dunlap about a mysterious e-mail exchange. An e-mail sparked by Gilley the night before when he’d asked the county sheriff to e-mail him any info he had on Wyatt.

“Jimmy!” Pena suddenly cried from inside the Durango. “Don’t!”

But it was too late. Cruz’s face changed into something barely recognizable as human. His eyes narrowed, his lips pulled back into a fearsome snarl, and his nostrils flared, giving him a most terrifying countenance.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!”
Gilley cried, and ran straight for Heath’s car, which was closest. But when he got to the door, of course he couldn’t open it; it was locked by his own remote control gadget.

“Keys!” I yelled to Heath, who was still standing in front of Cruz, dumbstruck and momentarily frozen.
“Heath! Keys!”
I shouted, turning my attention back to Gil, who was now patting himself down frantically, looking for the remote, which he’d obviously put away, or dropped.

Meanwhile, Pena was kicking at the window with his feet. The window cracked, but it didn’t shatter. And then, from the road I saw it coming. A giant, black, slithering thing with fangs and claws and glowing red eyes. It moved toward us with lightning speed, and I barely had time to grab Heath by the elbow and whirl him away from Cruz, whose face continued to take on a more and more monstrous look. He no longer looked human—and no doubt he no longer was.

From his lips came a deep and terrible growl. I’d never heard anything anywhere, living or dead, make that kind of noise. “The car!” I shouted, still tugging on Heath’s arm. “Open your car!”

Heath jammed his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out his key ring, but he was shaking so hard that he dropped it. He bent to retrieve it and as he did so, I saw something move so fast through the air where Heath’s torso had just been that I didn’t quite catch it—but I swear it looked like a giant claw.

I screamed and fell to the earth, crawling backward away from the black gleaming monstrosity swirling the dirt around us. Gilley screamed too, and I swear to God so did Pena.

Heath was the only one who kept his focus—well, besides Cruz, whose eyes blazed red now like something straight out of Amityville. While I shuffled backward, Heath clenched his keys and pressed the button to release the locks; then he rolled to the side as the dragon-like demon nearly pounced right on top of him.

“Get to the car!” Heath cried, crawling to his feet and trying to lure the monster away from me.