Set the Dark on Fire (24 page)

“Grácias,”
he muttered, getting out and waving good-bye. The little car took off again, leaving a cloud of dust and a lingering tune in its wake.

There was only one bus parked in front of the station, an exhaust-coated contraption with “Sunset Tours” written beneath the windows. Passengers were boarding, stowing their belongings in the storage area along the side.

Angel was last in line, carefully stashing her prized guitar and one sturdy duffel bag.

His heart leapt into his throat and he could only stare at her, assaulted by memories of her on top of him, underneath him, around him. As if sensing his perusal, she looked up, her eyes meeting his, and the moment stretched into an eternity.

He knew then that her voice would haunt him more than anything else. Years from now, he might forget how her body responded to his or how her skin felt beneath his hands, but he would never forget the sound of her voice, husky-sweet, like a hot summer night.

“Dylan,” she said in a ragged whisper.

The driver began to close the baggage compartment. “Bus leaves in two minutes, miss.”

She nodded, hesitating another moment before she approached him. “Please don’t tell my dad,” she begged.

He glanced at the bus again, seeing now that the small sign above the front window said “Las Vegas.”

She twisted her hands together. “I’m going to call him as soon as I get settled, but I don’t want him to worry …”

“Why are you going there?”

“To look for work.”

“What kind of work?”

She tore her gaze from his, her mouth thinning. And then he knew. He knew why she was going and why she’d kept it a secret.

The outrage and confusion he’d felt upon reading her rejection letter came back with a vengeance, flooding his system. “What the hell was that this morning?” he asked, lowering his voice. “Practice?”

Her eyes filled with hurt. “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t make it cheap.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “I’ll make it expensive. How much?”

She brushed her tears away angrily. “Fuck you.”

“You already did.”

Turning on one heel, she walked away from him, but he caught up with her easily, wrapping his hand around her upper arm. “Wait.” She jerked her arm out of his grasp and swung at him, surprising him with a glancing slap across the face. It hurt, and he didn’t like it, but he took her in his arms and held her tight, his heart pounding with anxiety. “Please don’t go,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

She struggled her way out of his embrace.

“I—I love you,” he blurted, desperate to keep her here.

The anger faded from her eyes. In its wake there was only pity, and he realized that he was making a fool of himself. Nothing he could say would convince her to stay.

When she reached out to touch his face, he flinched. “Good-bye,” she said, pressing her cool lips to his burning cheek.

With that, she was gone, her high-heeled boots making tracks in the gravel-strewn dirt at his feet, leaving dusty marks on the metal steps leading up to the passenger seats.

The grizzly-looking bus driver squinted in his direction, daring him to feel lucky. Dylan just stared back at him, thinking he’d never feel lucky again. The driver made a harrumphing sound and tossed his cigarette aside. Dylan watched, his heart growing cold and hard, while the bus pulled away.

It hadn’t yet cleared the parking lot when he became aware of another car cruising up behind him, a sleek black shadow.

The horn blipped and red lights flashed as the squad car jerked to a halt. Dylan didn’t make a conscious decision to run; he just did it. But he must have been moving in slow motion, still stunned from having his heart torn from his chest, because Garrett caught up with him in seconds, tackled him from behind. They both went down hard on the loose gravel.

It ripped his jeans and cut into his palms.

“You have the right to remain silent,” Garrett panted, already winded. Wrenching Dylan’s arms behind his back, he cuffed his wrists, continuing to recite the Miranda warning as he patted him down.

Dylan lifted his head, straining to see the bus cruising down the main drag. Was Angel watching him? Did she care?

He must have eaten dirt on the way down, because his lips felt numb and there was a tinny, metallic taste in his mouth. Turning his head to the side, he spat out blood and bits of gravel.

“What’s this?” Garrett said, pulling the knife out of his back pocket.

Dylan groaned, knowing he was in deep shit.

“Where’ve you been today?”

“At your mother’s,” he said, running his tongue over his teeth to make sure they were all in the right place.

Garrett put his knee on Dylan’s neck, pressing him facedown in the dirt and giving him an agonizing demonstration of excessive force. Dylan would have protested, but with a noseful of gravel and a crushed windpipe, he couldn’t breathe.

Shay meant to follow the doctor’s orders, and she’d had every intention of keeping her promise to Luke. But with every passing moment, she became more and more convinced that her brother was in danger, and she could no longer stay idle.

She picked up the phone beside the bed and dialed a number she knew by heart.

“Palomar High School, Rose speaking.”

“May I speak with Principal Fischer? This is Shay Phillips.”

“Please hold, Mrs. Phillips.”

Shay ground her teeth together.

“Miss Phillips?” a man’s smooth voice answered. Principal Fischer never forgot her marital status. “What can I do for you?”

“Did Dylan come to school yet?”

“Not according to any of his teachers.”

Damn it. “I saw him get on the bus.”

He sighed heavily. “I’ve heard parents say that before. Despite our best security efforts, students sometimes find a way to leave campus.”

“What about Chad Pinter and Travis Sanchez? Are they present and accounted for?”

“I can’t give out information about other students, Shay. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks anyway,” she muttered, and hung up.

Feeling helpless, and hating it, she stared at the clock on the wall across from her, watching the seconds tick by. The puncture wound on her hand was barely discernible. There was no discoloration or localized swelling. It looked like a kitten bite.

“Screw this,” she said, reaching for the phone again.

Her friend Lori answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

Shay could hear water running and baby Tommy fussing in the background. She didn’t want to put her friend out, but she didn’t know who else to turn to. “I’m at Palomar Hospital. Can you come pick me up?”

“Sure, but …” There was a muffled noise, like she was adjusting the phone and the baby, “… What happened?”

“Nothing big,” she lied. “I’ll be waiting by the tree out front.”

“Okay,” Lori replied, sounding dubious. “Twenty minutes?”

Shay thanked her and hung up. She didn’t think they could keep her here against her will, but she wasn’t sure. Dr. Barnes had already gone over the dangers with her and had been adamant that she stay at least eight hours.

Instead of causing a scene, she started working on the tape around her IV. Getting it put in had been the most uncomfortable part of this “near-death” experience, besides the stress, and it wasn’t easy to take out. Wincing, she pulled the needle from her arm and slapped some tape back on over the tender spot.

Her blood pressure gauge and pulse monitor were simple to remove, but they started beeping the instant she took them off. Panicking, she jumped up from the bed, realizing with chagrin that she didn’t know where her clothes were.

It couldn’t be helped, so she clutched the hospital gown’s gaping back, holding it shut, and fled the room like a thief in the night.

The dramatic exit was probably unnecessary, and it was definitely foolhardy, but once she committed to it, there was no going back. Ten minutes later, Lori Snell found her loitering behind the tree in front of the hospital, barefoot and loose-haired, like a deranged escapee from an insane asylum.

“Are you crazy?” Lori said through the open window.

“Probably,” Shay replied, letting out a shaky laugh as she climbed into the passenger seat of Lori’s SUV. She smiled at Tommy over her shoulder, who gurgled with delight. “He’s getting so big.”

“Um-hmm,” Lori said, pulling out into traffic. “What’d you do?”

Shay gave her an abbreviated version, downplaying the snakebite and emphasizing her concern for Dylan. “Take me to Dark Canyon,” she said as Lori drove back toward Tenaja Falls. “That’s where my car is.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lori muttered, giving her a jaunty salute.

“Sorry to be so bossy,” Shay said, furrowing a hand through her tangled hair. “It’s just been … one of those days.”

Lori snorted. “Tell me about it.”

Shay studied her friend, noting that Lori looked a little the worse for wear herself. Her eyes were puffy and red, as if she’d been crying. “What’s wrong?” she asked, glancing back at Tommy. He was drooling happily, chewing on a blue teething ring.

“Garrett is. Same as always.”

Shay’s heart went out to her, but she knew when to keep her mouth shut. Once, just once, she’d said, “Why don’t you divorce him?” and Lori let her have it.

“I think he’s seeing other women.”

“No,” Shay breathed, shocked by the idea. Garrett had always looked at other women, and wasn’t shy about getting an eyeful, but he wasn’t a toucher. As far as Shay knew, he’d been faithful to Lori. He was a terrible, horrible, faithful husband.

“He gets calls at all hours. And not just from bookies and poker fiends.”

“Women call him?” Shay said, her eyes narrowing. “At the house?”

She nodded miserably. “And on his cell.”

Shay couldn’t believe Garrett would be such a fool. He was damned lucky to have Lori, who was beauty to his beast. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. My mom said she would watch Tommy tonight so we can talk.”

Stunned into silence, Shay sat back in her seat to contemplate the situation. As big as her problems with Dylan were, and as harrowing as the events of the past few days had been, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. She’d been so distracted. Had she let her friend down?

“I’m here for you.”

Lori smiled through her tears. “I know.”

“If you ever need someone to talk to, or even a place to stay …”

“Thanks,” Lori said, wiping her cheeks. “But I can always move back in with my parents if it comes to that.”

When they arrived at Dark Canyon, Shay gave her friend a big, long hug. Tears filled her eyes, because she wanted the best for Lori. Shay also had her own man troubles to deal with, and she wished they had time to talk now. She could use a supportive ear.

Tommy let out a high-pitched wail, and they broke apart.

“I think he needs to go down for a nap,” Lori said, apologizing. “Will you be okay?”

“Of course. Will you?”

Instead of answering, Lori promised to call her later, and Shay climbed out of the passenger seat. With Tommy fussing in the backseat, Lori put the car into gear and turned the radio up as she drove away.

This morning, after going outside to wait for the ambulance, Shay had forgotten to lock up the Visitors’ Center. Thank goodness her keys were in the purse on top of her desk, where she’d left them. Changing out of the hospital gown was her first order of business, but before she grabbed her extra clothes, she walked through the building warily, almost expecting to see a human assailant. She wasn’t sure she believed the snake had been delivered to her with evil intent, but too many weird things had happened lately to call them all co incidences.

Luke would be so pissed if he knew she was here alone right now.

The cardboard box the rattler had been delivered in was lying on the floor next to the exam table, innocuous and empty. The snake itself was stretched out in a roomy glass enclosure, unaware of the trouble it had caused. Tiptoeing lightly on her bare feet, she searched the office and the back room, even going so far as to look under the stalls in the restrooms.

The place was deserted.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she took the change of clothes from her desk drawer and ducked into the bathroom. Working with wildlife was often messy, so she always kept a backup outfit on hand. The dark brown corduroys hung too low on her hips, and the old blue T-shirt left a strip of her midsection bare, but even the most ill-fitting ensemble was better than a hospital gown. Slipping on the pair of ratty canvas sneakers, she pulled her hair into a quick ponytail and used the facilities before she walked out.

A man locked his arm around her waist as soon as she cleared the door, lifting her off her feet and hauling her against him. Her first instinct was to kick and fight, but she froze the instant she felt the cold barrel of a gun digging into her temple.

If she hadn’t just emptied her bladder, she’d have peed her pants.

23

After parting ways with Clay at Wild Rivers Casino, Luke drove out to Dark Canyon.

Via CB radio, Clay informed him that two FBI special agents had arrived at the construction site to process evidence, and the medical examiner had been allowed to transport the body to the morgue to perform the autopsy. Dr. Hoyt confirmed what Luke already suspected. Bull Ryan had no visible injuries besides the laceration to his scalp, which appeared to have been inflicted after his heart stopped beating.

Hoyt couldn’t speculate on the cause of death until the autopsy was complete, but he was able to estimate the time it happened: yesterday in the early evening.

Luke thanked Clay for the information and signed off, wondering why the hell anyone would want to mess around with a dead body. Yesenia Montes had been moved after the lion attack, and Bull Ryan’s corpse had been given a new hairline.

It didn’t make sense.

He arrived at the Visitors’ Center a short time later and let himself in. A small cardboard box was lying on the floor next to a stainless steel exam table, just as Shay had described.

She said she hadn’t noticed it the night before, and he knew damned well it hadn’t been there during their tryst. He might have been hard as nails with only one thing on his mind, but he was still a cop, trained to notice every detail.

Someone had brought this package here early this morning, hours or minutes after he left with Shay. When he found out who, Luke was going to rip him apart with his bare hands. Maybe even shove the fucking snake down his throat.

There was no sign of a break-in, no discernible footprints near the front door or any tire impressions on the dry desert earth outside. After giving the grounds a quick inspection, and scowling at what must be the offending snake, who appeared to be relaxing comfortably in a posh-looking habitat, he took a pen out of his pocket and crouched down next to the box, upending it carefully.

A triangle-shaped object tumbled out, clattering on the tile floor.

Luke couldn’t believe his eyes. He wasn’t an expert, but this was a cultural artifact anyone could recognize.

It was an arrowhead, knapped from black obsidian.

His mind raced with possibilities. He didn’t believe an Indian had left the spear point here any more than he believed one of his people had scalped Bull Ryan.

So what the hell was going on?

The sound of running water in the restroom brought him up short. He drew his weapon, staying low and cursing himself for a fool. There were no cars outside, other than the one Shay left in the parking lot this morning, and he hadn’t bothered to do a thorough sweep.

It was a stupid, careless mistake.

Moving fast, he approached the door to the women’s restroom and stood beside it, his pulse pounding with adrenaline.

He had his gun to her head and his arm clamped around her waist as soon as she came out. With her body flush against his, he could smell her hair and that tantalizing herbal scent. Luke recognized Shay with all of his senses.

Horrified, he released her. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

She whirled around to look at him, her eyes wide with fear. “What the fuck are
you
doing here?”

He holstered his revolver, noting that his hands were shaking. “I could have killed you,” he said, chilled by the thought.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“You promised you would stay in the hospital,” he said through clenched teeth, struggling to get a grip on his emotions. “Instead I find you here, traipsing around my crime scene like nothing happened. All but begging for someone to come in and finish the job they started this morning!”

Her face paled. “You didn’t have to put a gun to my head.”

“I didn’t know it was you.” He took a slow, agonizing breath, trying to recover. A moment ago, when he thought the perpetrator had returned to the scene, rage had flooded his system. He’d drawn his weapon, and for the first time in his life, he’d wanted to use it.

He still did. He would kill anyone who hurt her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She looked down at her tennis shoes, muttering something about him being quick on the draw.

It stung in more ways than one. “How did you get here?”

“A friend dropped me off.”

“I’m taking you back to the hospital right now.”

“The hell you are.”

He bit off another curse. “I don’t want you mixed up in this, Shay,” he said, raking a hand through his hair. “I can’t stand the thought of you being in danger. And I hate the idea of you putting yourself at risk.”

Her gaze wandered over him, lingering on his disheveled hair and the star pinned to his front pocket before settling back on his face.

To his consternation, the corner of her mouth tilted up, as if the signs of his eminent breakdown pleased her. Reaching out, she threaded her own fingers through his hair, adding to the disarray. Her eyes burned into his, smoky blue, and what passed between them was hotter and stronger and scarier than anything he’d ever felt before.

He pressed her back against the wall, cupping his hand around her chin and rubbing his thumb across her soft lips. She parted them and bit him gently, her small white teeth sinking into the pad of his thumb. After soothing the mark with her tongue, she drew him into the heat of her mouth and sucked gently.

He felt an answering tug in the middle of his chest, below the belt, and all the way down to his toes.

Groaning, he withdrew his wet thumb and traced her lips once more before crushing his mouth over hers. There was no artistry to this kiss, no finesse, just hunger and longing and desperation. She responded in kind, tasting his passion and demanding her pleasure, as frank and sexual and unashamed as she’d ever been.

He wanted her more each day, with each passing moment. He wanted her more every time he had her. He wanted her right here, standing up against the wall.

But she took her hands from his hair and placed them on his chest, breaking the contact. “We can’t do this right now.”

“No,” he agreed, although his erection throbbed in protest.

She disentangled herself from his arms. “I have to find my brother.”

That brought back a shard of reality. She was supposed to be resting in a hospital bed. And he was supposed to be investigating her attempted murder. “Right,” he said, shaking his head. “I mean, wrong. I’m going to find him. You’re—”

The radio on his belt sounded, emitting a hash of garbled words.

Luke snatched up his receiver.

Deputy Snell’s voice came over the wire, calm and crisp in a sea of static. “I’ve got Phillips in the back of my squad car. He was found in possession of a hunting knife.” He let out a sinister chuckle. “I think what we’ve got here is a slam dunk, Sheriff.”

Luke met Shay’s gaze, reading her fear and confusion.

“Don’t question him without me,” he warned, his pulse racing. “I’ll be at the station in a few minutes.”

“That’s affirmative,” Garrett said. “Over and out.”

The next ten minutes were the longest of her life. On the way to the hospital this morning, she’d imagined what would happen to Dylan if she died, and tears had sprung to her eyes.

Now she sat next to Luke in terrified silence, so worried she felt nauseous. She was furious with her brother for putting her through this kind of turmoil. Why was he so determined to throw his life away?

Luke didn’t say anything, but he seemed as tense as she was. He drove too fast on the bumpy dirt road, jostling them inside the cab. When they arrived at the sheriff’s station, she jumped out of his truck and hurried toward the front door, her heart pounding with anxiety and her hands clenched into fists.

Inside, her little brother was sitting at a desk across from Garrett Snell, his hands cuffed behind his back and his eyes brimming with defiance. Upon sight of his torn, dirty T-shirt, and the blood smeared across his chin, her anger didn’t evaporate.

It just transferred.

Garrett Snell’s uniform was also dirty, but his face was unmarred and his expression smug. He was leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his barrel chest, a position that emphasized his considerable bulk.

Garrett was a bully as a kid, a husband, and a police officer. Shay couldn’t let him get away with it a second longer.

“You black-hearted bastard,” she said in a low growl, advancing on him. She didn’t slap at him wildly or unsheathe her claws; she just grabbed him by the shirt collar, drew back her fist, and punched him square in the mouth.

Pain exploded from her knuckles upon impact. Garrett shoved her backward, sending her flying across the room. Dylan rose to his feet and shouted in protest, almost knocking over the table in front of him. Luke caught her around the waist and held her still.

“How dare you put your hands on him!” she said to Garrett, struggling to break free.

Garrett touched his fingertips to his lips, finding blood there. “He was running,” he said in a cold voice. “I had to take him down.”

When she looked at Dylan, he nodded, corroborating the story. She felt some of the fight leave her body. “Why would you run?”

“Because I’m guilty. Why else?”

“Oh, Dylan,” she said, her disbelief tinged with defeat. Luke’s grip on her changed, supporting rather than restraining her.

“Keep that crazy bitch away from me,” Garrett warned, rubbing his jaw. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Except grind your knee into my fucking neck,” Dylan said.

Shay’s vision narrowed, and she made another fist.

“Let’s all just settle down for a minute,” Luke said. “Shay, if you can’t promise to stay calm, I’ll have to ask you to leave the room.”

She tried to jerk her arm from his grasp, but he held tight. “You’re not allowed to interview my brother without my permission!”

“Actually, I am, in this situation.”

She glared at him, her chest rising and falling with agitation. He stared back at her. Faced with no other choice, she gave her consent.

“Go on and sit over there by Dylan.”

When he released her, she walked slowly around the perimeter of the table, her eyes on Garrett. All but baring her teeth, she sat down next to Dylan.

Luke turned to Garrett. “I would recommend that you consider your words, and your actions, very carefully from now on.”

Garrett’s dark gaze moved from Luke to Shay, assessing their body language in his cold, calculating way. He knew what was going on between them. “Those FBI guys might want to sit in on this interview,” he said. It was a thinly veiled threat.

Luke made a show of considering the idea. “I think you’re right,” he said, nodding. “They’ll probably be interested in that conversation we had about Yesenia Montes the other day, too. Let’s call them in.”

Whatever dirt Luke had on Garrett, it must have been good, because the stocky deputy shut up and sat down.

Luke took the seat next to him. “Did you read him the Miranda?”

“Yes,” Garrett said. “Although I can’t be certain a kid with a mouth like that understands the right to remain silent.”

Luke kept his focus on Dylan, refusing to let Garrett’s sarcasm affect him. “Did you get a job on the construction site at Los Coyotes?”

Dylan frowned, as if he hadn’t anticipated that particular question. “Yeah. I started yesterday.”

“How’d that work out?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“Did you see Bull Ryan?”

“Only for a second, when I first got there.”

“Not before you left?”

He hesitated. “No. I went to the office to say goodbye, but he was already talking to someone else.”

“Who?”

He glanced at Shay. “Jesse.”

“Did you listen in?”

The corner of his mouth tipped up. “I might’ve heard some stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Money trouble. Woman trouble.” He gave an insouciant shrug. “Whatever.”

“Was the conversation friendly?”

“Not really. But it wasn’t, like, antagonistic. Just your typical Jesse Ryan bullshit.”

“What does that mean?”

“That he got what he wanted without much resistance.”

Luke’s eyes went to Shay’s, clearly reading Dylan’s implication that she was also something Jesse had had without much resistance. “A loan?”

“I guess,” he replied. “Why are we talking about him anyway?”

Instead of answering, Luke looked at Garrett, who slid a clear plastic bag across the surface of the table. Inside, there was a hunting knife with a blade that folded down, making it easy to carry or conceal in the palm of a hand.

When she saw it, Shay’s heart broke for her brother a little bit more.

Their dad hadn’t been big on macho gifts, being a consummate pacifist who disdained material things, but he’d given that knife to Dylan on his tenth birthday. He hadn’t been big on family vacations either, but damned if he hadn’t taken her and Dylan to the Kern River that year, just weeks before she left for college.

“Every man should know how to clean a fish,” he’d said, handing Dylan the shiny new knife. He’d been standing on the wet rocks along the riverbank, blond hair glinting in the late-day sun, holding a flopping trout on a short line.