Should Be Dead (The Valkyrie Smith Mystery Series Book 1) (7 page)

“How does the refrigerator come out?” Loki said, his eyes wild. Odin punched him in the face.

The RV swerved wildly across the lines. Loki tumbled back, stars bursting in his vision. He tripped over the easy chair and landed flat on his back in the trash, staring up at the four holes in the roof where the satellite dish used to be bolted down. He blinked.

Odin returned his attention to the road.

Loki rose swiftly, purposefully to his feet. He opened the drawer by the sink and withdrew the dull, plastic-handled ten-inch chef’s knife that Odin had purchased at the One Dollar Store a few weeks earlier. It wasn’t sharp at all, but it had a nice serrated age that could chop through anything. Probably even bone.

Loki took a step towards the driver’s seat. A deep-throated laughter came rumbling out of Odin’s chest. Loki glanced at his partner, and followed the older man’s gaze through the windshield. He saw a parade of bicyclists on the road ahead. There must have been thirty of them, zigzagging around and between one another, dancing out into the lane almost to the center line. They were all wearing spandex pants and brightly painted Styrofoam helmets, and a few had numbers on their shirts.

“Somebody doesn’t know the rules of the road,” Odin said with menacing grin. He stomped on the accelerator.

Loki’s eyes widened. He completely forgot what he’d been doing. He dropped the knife and clutched the back of the passenger seat, bracing for the impact. Up ahead, somebody saw them coming and screamed. The bikers started to move out of the way, but it was already too late. There were too many of them. They were too tightly packed together.

In the midst of their panic, one of the bikers lost his balance and fell down right in the RV’s path. Loki glanced at Odin and a shiver went down his spine as he saw the wild, frantic grin stretched across his partner’s face. For a split second, Odin didn’t look like a man anymore. He looked like a demon.

Chapter 10

Val couldn’t see the bicyclists up ahead. The rear end of the motor home filled her vision, swaying unsteadily as Odin swerved back and forth across the lanes. The oncoming traffic lurched onto the shoulder just in time to avoid the RV, tires squealing, horns blaring, kicking up dust and rocks into the air.

When the first body appeared under the back bumper of the motor home, Val instantly slammed on the brakes. As she skidded to a stop, others appeared. Seven, eight, maybe even ten of them. She put the car in park, turned on the emergency flashers, and watched helplessly as the RV disappeared in the distance.

“Dial nine-one-one,” she said breathlessly into the speakerphone.

Nine of the bicyclists were lying in the road. A few were screaming in pain, clutching at broken bones, others not moving at all. A few had escaped major injury but they were dazed, wandering across the two-lane highway as if they had no idea where they were.

After explaining the situation to the 911 dispatcher, Val rushed up to help the bicyclists. The first man she approached, the one they had run over, was dying. Val knew from his injuries and the volume of blood he’d lost that he’d never make it. She knelt down next to him and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“You’re going to be just fine,” she lied. “Help is on the way. I need you to relax.”

He tried to say something. A gurgling sound rattled out of his chest. She shushed him.

“Close your eyes,” she said in a whisper. “Just rest now.” The poor man closed his eyes, let out a long exhale, and went limp.

After that, everything was a haze. There were so many injured. So many innocent victims. Traffic began backing up in both directions. A few drivers got out of their cars to help, but they couldn’t do much more than try to stop the bleeding while they waited for paramedics. Two men jumped out of a truck and began directing traffic around the accident. Valkyrie worked like a field surgeon, moving from body to body, helping when she could. It wasn’t much.

Then came the sirens, the flashing lights, people shouting. Paramedics and uniforms raced past her. Nate and the sheriff were there, and at some point, Valkyrie ended up sitting in Diekmann’s truck, listening in as he issued a BOLO on Odin’s RV.

“That’s all we can do for now,” the sheriff said. “Every cop in the north bay will be looking for that motor home, including the forest rangers. There’s nowhere for him to go between here and the coast.”

Val stared outside, watching the paramedics load a sheet-covered body onto an ambulance. She had her hands on her lap and her cane tucked between her knees. Diekmann looked her up and down, noting the blood on her hands and her clothes.

“There’s something we need to get clear,” he said. “When you offered to stay and help with this case, I agreed under the condition that we were working together. What happened today… you going to the RV park without talking to me first… that won’t happen again.”

Valkyrie pulled her gaze away from the windshield to look him in the face. Diekmann’s eyes were dark, sunken. He wore a look that reminded Val of her father when she was a child, when he had been disappointed with her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have told you.”

“Do you understand that if Nate had been there with you, this whole thing might not have happened?”

Valkyrie doubted that, but she bit her tongue. It would have taken too much effort to explain it all to the sheriff, and it really wasn’t the point anyway. The point was that she had deceived him. She turned her gaze back to the scene.

“You should get cleaned up,” Diekmann said. “Get some rest, and decide what you’re going to do. From now on, either you’re with us on this case, or I don’t want you here. Do you understand?”

Valkyrie nodded. Diekmann held his gaze on her. “Are you okay to drive?”

“I’m fine,” she said.

“Call me in the morning.”

Val climbed out of the truck and turned away just as Riley appeared before her.

“I was going to thank you-” he started, but faltered as he saw the blood on her face. “Are you all right?”

She leaned against her cane, averting her gaze uncomfortably. “I didn’t get hurt. I just need to get back to the hotel and clean up.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“That’s not necessary.”

Riley glanced at Diekmann in the truck, who was staring at them with a dark frown. “I insist,” Riley said. “Besides, I’ve been dying to drive that car of yours. You wouldn’t deny a man his childhood dream, would you?”

Val couldn’t help but smile. There was something about Riley; something about his meekness, his humility, that made him seem not only harmless but also
helpless.
She wanted to protect him. To help him. She wanted to muss up his hair and un-tuck his shirt.

“All right,” she said.

“Perfect. Just give me one second.”

Riley circled around the ambulance and approached a young woman standing next to a sedan at the side of the road. He pointed at Val. Valkyrie noticed the woman’s gaze lingering on her. Riley said something to the woman and then hurried back. As he reached her side, Val noticed that the woman was still staring at her.

“Your girlfriend?” she said as they walked over to the Packard. Riley opened the door for her.

“Jackie? No, she’s my assistant editor. She’s the one who pretty much holds things together.” He closed the door, walked around the front of the car, and settled into the driver’s seat. His eyes lit up and he let out a low whistle as he ran a finger across the burl wood dash and the brass gauges. “They don’t make ‘em like this anymore. Where’s the starter button? On the floorboard?”

“No, it’s there on the dash.” Riley pressed it, but nothing happened.

“I’ll have to do that for you,” Val said, reaching over. She pressed the button and the engine rumbled. Noticing Riley’s confused frown, she explained: “It has a fingerprint sensor. Nobody can start this car but me. Unless I bypass the sensor, of course.”

“I take it back,” Riley said. “They
never
made them like this. Was that your husband’s idea?”

“That and a few other updates,” she said. “He loved this car. I think he wanted it to be a spy car. You know, like James Bond.”

“Sounds like a cool guy.” Riley put the car into drive and slowly began weaving his way through the crowd.

“He was. When we bought our farm ten years ago, we found this car in the barn. Tom worked on it for two years. He replaced all the rusted metal, rebuilt the engine… he even put new axles on it. He used to tinker on it all night long. I’d have to yell at him to get to bed, just like a child. After he died, I got rid of everything else, but I just couldn’t bring myself to sell this car.”

“Good call. But if you
do
ever decide to sell it…” Riley said with a grin.

“I’ll keep you in mind,” Val sighed.

The sun had already set by the time they reached the coast. Riley took his time navigating down the narrow, winding Highway 1 to Bodega Bay. It took over an hour to get back to the hotel, a good twenty minutes longer than it had taken Valkyrie to make the same drive earlier. When they arrived, Val invited Riley up to her room. When she saw the nervous look on his face she said, “You do still owe me dinner tonight, remember?”

“Oh, right!” he said, obviously relieved.

 Val tried to conceal her amused smile. Back in the room, she invited Riley to watch TV while she showered.

“I’ll just be a few minutes,” she said.

He settled onto the couch with the remote. Val rested her cane against the dresser and tossed her jacket onto the bed, revealing her 1911 and shoulder holster. Riley glanced at it, but didn’t say a word. It was, after all, completely normal for a federal agent to carry a firearm.

Val laid the gun -still in the holster- on the nightstand, and then slipped out of her blouse and slacks. She examined them for bloodstains and decided they’d have to be steam-cleaned. She glanced at Riley and he jerked his gaze away so fast he must have sprained his neck.

“Never seen a grownup woman in her underwear?” she teased.

“Of course I have,” he mumbled. “I’ve got broadband.”

Val laughed as she headed for the shower.

After Val had cleaned up and changed into some fresh clothes, they strolled down the boardwalk together, making their way towards the
High Tides
restaurant. It was a cool but clear night, and the lights of the restaurant lit up the harbor. The sound of voices drifted out over the water, and the smell of fresh seafood enveloped them. Even before they got inside, Val could see the place was packed.

“Let’s have a drink at the bar first,” she said. “After today, I need something to take the edge off.”

Riley happily agreed. He hadn’t witnessed the accident, but he’d seen the aftermath. The couple settled into a corner at the end of the bar where they could talk. Riley ordered a rum and coke, Valkyrie a martini. He watched her take a sip of the drink, and then another.

“Are you okay?”

Valkyrie stared into her drink. “Better than I expected, to be honest.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know. A man died in my arms today. There wasn’t anything I could do for him. I tried to make him comfortable. I told him it would be okay, and then… then he died.”

“I’m sorry. You must remember that it wasn’t your fault. You did everything you could to prevent this from happening.”

“Maybe, but deep down inside I know I failed him. I failed all of those people, and half a dozen others. The bodies keep piling up. The strange thing is, even though I feel sorry for him, I just don’t… I don’t really
feel
it. I should want to cry, but I don’t. It’s hard to explain.”

“In your line of work, you see terrible things. Over time, that can change how you feel. You can become jaded.”

Valkyrie took another drink and leaned back. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe that’s it. I’m just jaded. But when I think about him, when I see him staring at me, and the light going out in his eyes, all I can think about is… How peaceful he looked.”

“I don’t think that’s unnatural,” said Riley. “Who wouldn’t have a conflicted reaction to something like that?”

Valkyrie put her hand on his and gave it a squeeze. “You’re a good man, Riley. I don’t know why, but I feel comfortable talking to you. I feel like I can trust you.”

“Of course you can.”

She stared into his eyes for a moment, feeling the warmth of her drink oozing through her limbs. She fought the urge to reach out and unbutton the top button of his shirt. Valkyrie took another drink.

“Let’s talk about something else,” she said.

After that, they kept their conversation to lighter subject matter: schools they’d attended, films and novels they enjoyed, and so on. The conversation took frequent turns, but at every stop, Val became more convinced that the two of them had absolutely nothing in common.

Riley liked documentaries and foreign films, both of which put Valkyrie to sleep every time, without fail. The reporter liked to read nonfiction and classical mythology, while Val enjoyed a well-plotted mystery, or occasionally, a good romance. Riley had studied journalism all his life and dreamed of moving to San Francisco or New York, where he would work for a big time publication and win a Pulitzer. Valkyrie on the other hand, would have hated fame, and she only went to big cities when she had to.

After forty-five minutes and several drinks, they finally took a table. The host seated them on the west side of the restaurant, next to the water. A row of tall windows stretched out along the wall, offering a spectacular view of the entire bay. The lights were low in the dining area, and a single red candle burned on every table. Val soaked in the romantic ambiance as she scanned the menu.

“It smells heavenly in here,” she said. “This place is fantastic. What’s good?”

“It depends on what you like, I suppose. They have some of the best clam chowder you’ll find anywhere. The salmon is always fresh and the seafood pasta has scallops, which is a rare treat these days.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever had scallops,” Val said. “I’m afraid this Midwestern girl knows more about steak and potatoes than seafood. Why don’t you choose for me?”