Nightwalker (26 page)

Tanner Green seemed to stabilize in his chair.

“I’m glad you decided to stay,” Jessy said, at a loss for anything else. “Now, please, tell who ki—who did this to you.”

“I don’t know,” he said.

“You have to find out.” He seemed surprised that he had actually managed to speak. He almost smiled, then spoke again, his confidence seeming to grow. “I keep trying to remember the day, where I was. I keep trying to retrace my footsteps.”

“That’s a great idea,” Jessy told him encouragingly.

“Mr. Yorba, you could sit down,” she added quietly.

Rudy Yorba seemed startled to be addressed so directly, and Tanner Green stared at him curiously. She reminded herself that they hadn’t known one another in life.

She took a long drink of coffee, set the cup back down and asked, “Rudy, why do you keep hiding from Mr. Green?” she asked.

“I’ve been watching him. I think whoever killed him killed me, too, so I thought if I followed him, I could find out who that was. But I was afraid for him to see me. He’s…huge.”

Jessy nodded. “He is, but I’m sure he doesn’t want to hurt you.”

Tanner look at Rudy quizzically. “Why the hell would I hurt you? I don’t even know you!” His eyes narrowed. “You weren’t part of this, were you?”

“No, no, we think Rudy was killed by the same people who killed you,” Jessy said quickly, then cleared her throat. “We’re pretty sure Rudy was killed because someone knew he had talked to Dillon—Dillon Wolf,” Jessy said. “We’re all looking for the same answers, and we all need to help each other.”

Rudy didn’t speak, but Tanner Green frowned and said, “I remember…having a drink, and then…then it changed. Everything changed. There was so much neon. I saw the playground from when I was a kid in Philly…I saw…I saw lights. I saw you.
You
…Someone attacked me, and then I fell down and died on you.”

“Yes. You did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. It’s not like you wanted to.”

“Rudy, what about you? Did you see anything?” Jessy asked him.

“Lights. I saw lights. The bastard came at me like a bat out of hell. He meant to kill me, not just to hit me. It was murder, and I want the bastard who did it,” Rudy said.

“Rudy, how did you run out of gas?”

“I
didn’t
run out of gas,” he said. “Someone siphoned my tank. They left me enough to get out on the highway, and they knew exactly where I’d have to start walking.”

Jessy looked over at Tanner Green. “Mr. Green, how about you? Can you think of
any
thing that might help?”

The big man shook his head. “I’m trying. I knew someone was after Emil Landon, and I was ready to defend him. But who the hell—”

“Wait,” Jessy said. “You said you knew that someone was after Emil.
How
did you know? Because he told you so?”

“No,” Green said. “Someone shot at him one night. I wanted to call the cops, but Mr. Landon took care of it himself. He called some cop he’s kind of friends with, and after, that’s when he called Adam Harrison. He insisted on getting Dillon Wolf to find out what was going on. His friend at the station had him convinced he needed Wolf. So Wolf came on the job, but he was just investigating, we were protecting—Hugo Blythe and me. But I was off work when it happened. Was I killed so I couldn’t protect Mr. Landon?”

“I don’t know, but I suppose it’s possible,” Jessy said.

Green let out an aggrieved sigh.

“Mr. Green, there’s something else. We need to know why you whispered ‘Indigo’ to me before you died.”

D
illon awoke with a start. Despite the heavy drapes, he knew that day had come.

He reached out in anticipation, then realized that Jessy wasn’t beside him. He jumped up and started toward the door, then realized he was naked and Adam was in the house, and went back for a robe.

He almost called her name, but it was always better to seek someone in silence, so he hurried down the hall as quickly and quietly as he could.

He reached the living room and stopped short in shock.

There was Jessy, all that long red hair streaming around her face in a red halo, a stunning contrast to her navy blue T-shirt. She was holding a cup of coffee, one of her legs crossed over the other, and she was engaged in what looked to be the most casual conversation in the world.

With three ghosts.

Ringo, a given, was at her side. But Tanner Green was there, too, sitting in a wingback chair, his expression one of intense concentration.

Rudy Yorba was there, too. He looked tense, standing behind Green, watching the others.

Ringo sensed Dillon’s presence first. He interrupted Tanner Green just as he was about to speak and said, “Green, don’t you go turning into a girlie-man again and disappearing. Dillon is a longtime nightwalker, and he’s the one person here who can really help you. Stay, do you understand?”

Startled, Green looked up at Dillon and began to fade. Dillon silently cursed himself and spoke quickly and very softly. “Please, Green, I need you. We need your help.”

Tanner Green took what looked for all the world like a deep breath and his image stabilized.

Next, Dillon looked across the room at Rudy. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Rudy, to his surprise, seemed to release some of the tension that had held him so stiffly and said, “Don’t be. Not your fault.”

“You tried to help,” Dillon reminded him.

“I was all over those tapes. Hell, if that cop hadn’t been such a jerk, I might have talked to him right away, and then I probably would have been killed sooner. What is, is. But I want to know the truth. I want to know who did this to me, and then I want to watch the bastard fry. At the least, I want him locked up for the rest of his life, and when he is, I’m going to see to it
that he doesn’t have a minute of peace for as long as he lives.”

Jessy cleared her throat, looking at Dillon. Her eyes were bottomless pools of blue, but she was clearly doing amazingly well.

“Dillon, I was just asking Mr. Green about Indigo,” she said.

Dillon walked over to the couch, and Ringo moved to accommodate him as he took a seat next to Jessy.

“Indigo might be the key to everything,” Dillon explained to Green. “We need to know what’s so important about the place.”

“There’s gold there,” Tanner Green said.

“How do you know that?” Dillon asked. “There’s been a legend about the gold for over a century, but are you telling me it’s real?”

“I don’t know,” Green said, frowning as if the answer was just out of reach.

“Let’s try this. Let’s start with the beginning of your day.”

“It was my day off.”

“And what were you doing on your day off?”

“Sleeping late. I have a room up in the penthouse. Landon, he acts like a prick, but he’s pretty decent to the people who work for him. I slept until noon. Blythe was on guard duty. I don’t think he was that concerned. He didn’t really think anyone was after the boss. The shots that were fired…they might have been fired at anyone in that parking lot. Most people thought it was just a backfire, you know?”

Dillon kept a rein on his temper. They finally had
Tanner Green talking. He had to tell his story in his own time.

“Yes, I know, but when you know the sound of a bullet, you can tell it isn’t a backfire,” Dillon said. “So then…?”

“So then…” Green paused for thought. He seemed pleased when he spoke again. “I was hungry, so I went and got something to eat.”

“Steak and potatoes.”

“Yeah,” Green said. “How did you know?”

Autopsy reports, Dillon thought, but he didn’t say so. “You just look like a meat-and-potatoes man,” he fudged.

Green nodded again. “Then I went gambling.”

“Where?”

“I hit a few places.”

“Did you gamble at the Big Easy?” Dillon asked.

Green shook his head. “No. Can’t work there and gamble there. It’s not allowed.”

“Okay, so where?” Dillon asked.

“Um, I hit some of the big ones. Bally’s, Wynn, MGM.”

“You stayed on the Strip?” Dillon asked.

“Yeah. I think I gambled at the Sun, too,” he said, musing over his own answer. “Yeah, I was there.”

Dillon made a mental note to check that out on the security tapes. Even if Green
had
been there, did it mean anything?

“And were you drinking in the course of the day?” Dillon asked.

“Yeah, here and there. I’m not a lush. But I did have something, and that’s when the lights I was telling Miss Sparhawk about started up and…I was playing kickball in Philly again,” Green said.

Rudy Yorba snorted.

“It wasn’t his fault. Someone slipped him some LSD,” Dillon said.

“For real?” Rudy asked.

“For real,” Dillon repeated.

“Mr. Green, can we talk about Indigo again?” Jessy said, slipping back into the conversation.

Dillon could feel the tension in her. He gently set a hand on her knee, a warning that they needed to be patient.

“I was in a car—a limo, maybe—and I heard people talking about it, saying there had to be a way to find the gold, that it was really there.”

“Who?” Dillon asked quietly.

“I don’t know. I was there, and at the same time I wasn’t there,” Green said.

Dillon rubbed his forehead in frustration. Green had overheard the conversation, but he’d been tripping and had no memory of the specifics.

“Please, try to think. This is important,” Dillon said. “Do you remember being in a car?”

“A nice car. A limo, I think.”

“Okay, that’s good. Who else was in the car?”

Tanner Green frowned in concentration. “Friends. I think. The kids I played kickball with.”

Dillon leaned forward. “Tanner, you weren’t really with your friends from the old days back in Philly. It had to be someone you know from here. Think hard.”

“I’m trying,” Green said.

They were all startled by a cheerful whistle coming from the hall. “Good morning,” Adam Harrison said as
he walked into the room, showered and dressed and ready to tackle the day.

“No, stay!” Dillon said when Tanner looked as if he was about to disappear again. “It’s Adam, my boss, and he can’t even see you.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Adam said. “I’ll be in the kitchen. You all keep talking.”

“I need to think,” Tanner said, his image solidifying. “I need to think.”

Dillon rose. He needed to do some thinking himself. “Rudy, go hang around the Sun and see what you can pick up. Tanner, you go back to the Big Easy and see what you can find out over there. Jessy, we need to go see your grandfather.”

“Gotcha,” Rudy said, nodding.

“I’m off, then,” Green said.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Jessy said to Dillon. “You can go fill Adam in.”

Nikki and Brent met them at the home, and Timothy was delighted with the extra company. He and Brent talked for several minutes about the old ways, and it made Jessy smile to see Timothy so happy.

She was embarrassed when Sandra called and she realized that she had forgotten to call her friend that morning to assure her that everything was all right. She stepped out into the hall and told Sandra that some friends of Dillon’s were in town, and said maybe they could all meet up that night.

Sandra was relieved to hear that Jessy was now surrounded by people who could be trusted. “Promise me
you’ll be with someone every second of the day,” she demanded.

“I promise,” Jessy assured her.

Sandra hung up, and Jessy wandered back to Timothy’s room, where he was happily holding court. A little while later Dillon said he had to leave to do some work at the library. Adam excused himself, too, and said he was going to take the rental car and head over to the Sun to see if he could overhear anything useful, maybe even find someone likely to know something and get him talking. The others seemed happy enough to spend time at the home with Timothy until someone was free to pick them up.

Once they were gone, Brent Blackhawk faced Timothy. “I’d like to hear more about the ghost dancers,” he said gravely.

Timothy, seeming totally lucid, nodded, looking anxious, and glanced at Jessy. She went to his side and put her arms around him. “Timothy, it’s okay. The rest of us see things that others don’t, too. Brent has been seeing…ghosts for many years, and he believes in your visions.”

“They are assembling,” Timothy said.

“Who is?” Brent asked him.

“My ancestor, Dillon’s ancestor. The others…I know their names. The singer is Milly, and there is a man named Ringo Murphy and another named Mark Davison. No one likes him. The sheriff is there, too. His name is Grant Percy. Or Percy Grant,” Timothy said, frowning and shaking his head. “I’m not sure. But they’re waiting. Something evil lives there. The posse is on the way, and Wolf is waiting, but he’s been betrayed.
Someone told the evil man that he was there, because otherwise he couldn’t have known so quickly that Wolf had returned. And now they’re assembling again.”

“Why, Timothy?” Brent asked.

“Because of the gold,” Timothy said.

“But there
is
no gold. The veins they found were tapped out, and no one ever found the mother lode.”

“But it’s there,” Timothy said gravely. “It’s there.”

“Where?” Brent asked.

Timothy ignored the question or maybe didn’t even hear it, and said, “They’ll assemble because they’re searching for the gold.” He shook his head. “It isn’t theirs, and that’s why they want to find it first. So they can steal it.”

For the second time that day, Jessy wanted to scream in frustration. Half of what he was saying made sense, and the rest sounded like nothing but nonsense.

Were all these people really dying because of gold that might not even exist?

The Henderson Library not only offered state-of-the-art facilities but a coffee shop and, best of all, librarians who were helpful, knowledgeable and willing to tackle any challenge.

Dillon started out by researching the town itself.

Indigo had been incorporated in 1857 by miners working a nearby goldfield that, sadly, didn’t pan out as they’d hoped. Still, for years men kept looking for the vein that was rumored to be bigger than any other find. Frank Varny owned the mining rights on as much of the nearby land as he could grab and worked relent
lessly to control the area. There were a few struggling ranches closer to the river, and the town had enough going on to support a bank, a doctor and a weekly newspaper. Every now and then a preacher even came to town and set up shop, but the preachers never lasted. The single church had pretty much crumbled into the dust, and it had never been repaired. The land the town stood on had not, oddly enough, actually belonged to Varny, but to an old miner who had moved on to the San Francisco goldfields. In 1876, a purchase, duly registered in the territorial offices, showed that one John Wolf had paid the measly sum requested by the old owner, and a deed had been written out, making the Paiute nation the actual owners of the land.

Dillon looked up and shook his head. He hadn’t learned anything new. He started looking for articles on the gunfight that had killed John Wolf and Frank Varny, along with a number of others.

Blood Bath in Indigo, read one headline.

Dillon began to scan the accompanying article, Timothy’s words running through his head as he read.

They are assembling.

The account of the incident said that there had been a history of bad blood between John Wolf and Frank Varny. It was a pretty good article, Dillon thought, filled with facts. Killed: Frank Varny, John Wolf, Ringo Murphy, Mark Davison, Sheriff Grant Percy and five hired guns who had worked for Frank Varny: Austin Makepiece, Riley Hornsby, Seth Bigelow, Drew Miffins and Tobias Wilson. Those who had survived the massacre and lived to describe it had been Mariah Wolf,
Milly Taylor and the piano player, George Turner, who had left before the gunfire to raise a citizens’ posse. Despite being afraid and armed with only a motley array of weapons, they had come as quickly as they could, but arrived only after the bloodbath. Since John Wolf had purchased and registered the claim to the land on behalf of the Paiute nation, the land underneath Indigo, as well as the nearby claim, had belonged to the tribe, and a later act of Congress had given it to them in perpetuity as reservation land. Any gold discovered would belong to the tribe. But the gold hadn’t been discovered, and Indigo had become a town of dust and tumbledown buildings, soon to be abandoned completely.

They are assembling.

Dillon shook his head. He was a Wolf, Jessy was descended from the piano player and Ringo was still here. There were already three dead men—did they count for three of Varny’s gunslingers? If so, it meant there were two remaining—one gunslinger and Davison—along with Varny himself. And what about Rudy? Was he connected somehow?

He gritted his teeth, wondering if he was crazy. If he was right, Emil Landon was Varny. Two more henchmen would round it out. No, he was forgetting the sheriff, the bartender and the singer. But they hadn’t taken sides in the deadly confrontation, nor had Mariah.

It still didn’t make sense that the whole thing was connected to the search for gold. Men had searched the entire area, and no one had ever found the gold that legend claimed was there.

He read the article again, wondering what he wasn’t seeing. And why in hell would Emil Landon hire Tanner Green as a bodyguard, then kill him himself?

On a hunch, he asked a librarian for local birth and death records. Emil Landon had claimed Paiute blood in his ancestry, which meant his lineage could be traced.

The librarian led him to a separate room, where he started to pore over long-ago records, some seemingly as dusty as the town of Indigo itself.