Hidden Pearl (28 page)

“Stop and think before you act this time,” Soul said, his breath coming more quickly as he felt himself losing control of the whole situation. “Let’s think this through. He hasn't surfaced anywhere, has he?" Soul lowered himself into his own chair.

George shook his head, drumming his hand on the arm of the chair.

"That likely means no one else knows what he might." He glared at the dead computer. Short of bringing in someone who understood them better than he did, he didn’t know if anything had been retrieved before its collapse. He couldn’t be sure Storm Walker had been in the room. He couldn’t be sure, but he knew it inside. Storm Walker had been there and he knew too much now.

"We should have killed him that first night when we saw he wasn’t controllable any of the usual ways.”

"Too late for regrets now," Soul snapped. "And damn, I needed him, needed his heritage, his… well too late for that. He got what he wanted from the computer and deliberately coded it to crash. That’s what I believe. His cleverness is why I wanted him. Why I still want him. Why we want him."

George gave a snort. "So now it's
we
, is it?"

"Hasn't it always been, brother."

"Only when things aren't going well, as I recall," George retorted. He glared at Soul. “And the woman. You’re making an even bigger mistake with her.”

"That’s my business.”

“Not if it brings down everything we’ve worked for.”

“Why should it do that?”

“Because you’re not thinking with your head. Not when it comes to either of them.”

"Since you seem to think you’re the one who should be calling all the shots, what do you suggest we do next?"

George smiled. "Well we could see them buried with our other mistakes," George quipped with another smile that didn’t quite make the grade.

Soul glared at him. "You’re humor is appalling."

George shrugged. “I aim to please.”

“Get to your point. What do we do?”

"I've sent people to check possible locations he might hide with those who know Taggert. We've got a bug on his office phone. If he calls in, we'll be able to trace him back. We're trying to find out now where Christine Johnson stayed when she checked out of her motel."

"Do we have to involve her?" Soul asked, feeling things slipping from his control.

George glared at him. "She involved herself when she chose to run off with the half-breed."

Soul walked to the window and stared out. The night seemed to be closing in around him. He felt his power waning. "Prepare the ingredients for the sacrifice," he said, his voice little more than a whisper.

When George said nothing, Soul turned to look at him. "You heard me. We're not succeeding because we're not calling on our power." He knew he was weakening because he'd moved away from the power. He had to prepare himself for the ordeal that lay ahead. This was no time to weaken.

"There are better ways to strengthen ourselves, Peter."

"Not now. I know it's what we have to do now. Get things ready." He met the disapproving blue gaze fully. "And don't ever call me Peter."

 "You like Lou better?" George asked, his tone sardonic.

Soul took a deep breath. "You're trying my patience. Brother or not, you will do as I say."

George rose from his chair. "Will I?"

"Who am I?"

"The master," George said with a cynical smile, then left the room.

When he was alone, Soul stared down at his finely manicured fingers. He was meant to be a wealthy man, born to control the destinies of others. His natural birth had betrayed him, betrayed all that he was intended to be. He had come a long way down the road of changing all that. Nothing would stop him now. Not Storm Walker Taggert, not the beautiful Christine, not even his own brother, but first he had to strengthen himself, reconnect with his power.

#

Christine heard the vehicle coming down the road toward the cabin and thought how typical. S.T.  was taking a shower. It was up to her to decide what to do and she didn't have long to figure it out. Could she pretend no one was here? They'd parked the Silverado in the garage, but tracks were obviously visible in the crushed pine needles littering the driveway.

She took a deep breath and walked to the door, waiting as the man got out of his vehicle. He frowned when he looked at her. "You're not Jayne," he said as he stepped up onto the porch.

"No, and I don't know you either. Who are you?" she asked, relieved he was alone.

"Jocelyn. Now who are you?"

"Friends of Jim and Jayne's. Just taking a quick break up here."

"What for?" He looked around suspiciously, then back at her.

"Is that your business?" she asked, stiffening her spine. Whoever this man was, he wasn't owed any explanations. If he wanted one, he could call the Baileys.

"A lot of stuff goes on up here. People gettin' their cabins broke into," he growled.

"Do the burglars usually hang around with no shoes on, opening the door to strangers?" she retorted.

For a moment he looked abashed, then his face hardened. "No, but don't mean they couldn't start. You want to prove who you are?"

She knew that to do so would be to look vulnerable, to look guilty. People who had a right to be someplace didn't need to explain themselves. Before she could decide what to say, she heard S.T. behind her.

"What's the matter?" he asked, pulling her back to lean against him. She knew then he'd not put on a shirt and she was against his bare chest. Looking down she saw bare feet and jeans.

"This man seems to think we broke in here," she said.

S.T. pulled her hand to his mouth giving it a kiss. "Didn't you explain we were on our honeymoon."

"I didn't think it was his business," she said, managing to conceal her surprise.

"Not technically, but he's just being a good neighbor," S.T. said, smiling now, that devastating grin that took her breath away.

"Honeymoon?" Jocelyn repeated. "Wonder why Jim didn't tell me."

S.T.  shook his head. "Couldn't say about that. Give him a call to check if you’re worried about it. We decided to get married real quick, didn't we, sweet thing."

She held up her left hand. "Quick enough that you still haven't bought me a ring," she said, her tone accusing.

"You haven't bought her a ring," the man said, beginning to smile.

"He claimed he didn't have the money," she retorted, glaring at S.T. now as she moved out of the circle of his arms. "Can you believe that?"

"Nope," Jocelyn said, his grin widening. "Give him a bad time until he gets you that ring."

"Ah precious," S.T. wheedled, "you know I'll get it soon as I get a job."

"Do I?" she asked, brows raised.

Jocelyn backed off the porch. "Reckon I'll head on out. You tell Jim hello for me when you see him."

"Sure. We'll be back up in Portland in a couple of days," S.T.  said. He reached for Christine but she pulled away from him, huffily standing with her back to him. "Maybe a little longer," S.T. amended.

When Jocelyn had driven off, Christine closed the door, leaning back against it. "You think he believed you?"

"Hopefully. I didn't want him calling Jim to question who was here. We don’t know whose phones Soul could have tapped by now. Lane’s friends might be among them."

"If he could do that, wouldn't he think about places like this and begin checking them out?"

"It won't be as quick, but yeah, I think we need to find another place."

"Do we go to the police now?"

"Not yet. When we go back to Portland, I'll talk to Jim, but I don't want to drag him in until I know everything I can about Peter Soul."

"Like?"

"Who he was before he was Peter Soul."

"I don't see how we're going to do that."

"We'll start with L.A. since George said Riverside was where he came from last."

"That doesn't mean Peter comes from there."

"But it's a place to start." He grabbed his shirt from the back of the chair over which he'd thrown it when he'd seen Christine being questioned by the stranger. She saw then the gun the shirt had been hiding. Quickly she looked up into his eyes.

"What was that for?"

"I wasn't sure who was talking to you, didn't want to arouse suspicion that wasn't necessary, and coming to the door shirtless made it look like I wasn't expecting trouble, but I also didn't want to be a dummy about it, so I kept the protection close enough to grab if it turned ugly." He pulled on the shirt and set the gun on an end table.

"I have wondered at times if you were once cop."

He shook his head and smiled. "No, but after my experience in Panama I figured I had to either hire protection or learn a few things. I took self-defense classes, which came in handy when I subdued George with a minimum of injury to either of us."

"That must have angered him."

"I didn't ask," he said with a grin.

"All right, to check on Soul's background, we'll have to get on Internet, but remember,
sweet thing
, I found nothing the last time."

"This time we do a search for religious groups in trouble with the law--anywhere between eight to five years ago."

"Why that block?"

"Just thinking he might’ve gotten in trouble before for fraud. If so, he wouldn't have gotten a long sentence."

"Where can we go that I can get connected to a server?"

"I need to think about it, think about what we should do next, and for that, I need to go for a walk."

"A walk. Alone?"

"I'm getting snowed under with details, impressions. I want to clear my mind and…  This time I need to do that alone."

"I understand."

"You do?"

"Go on, get out of here. I'll take my shower, then try to think up what kinds of key words I can use when we get someplace to work on this."

He pointed to the gun. “Don’t forget where that is.”

“I don’t like guns.”

“Me either.”

#

Alone in the woods, following a seldom used deer trail, S.T. tried to clear his head of the things that muddled his thinking. He didn't like leaving Christine alone in the cabin, but he'd left her with the gun and instructions on how to take off the safety if it was needed. He didn’t expect it would be needed. It better not be since she'd never fired a gun in her life. It should be safe enough for a few hours, maybe even a day. No one could get to them this fast even if the snoopy neighbor had been a spy for Soul.

Reaching the high point for which he'd aimed, he stripped off his shirt and sat cross-legged on a large, flat rock, sunshine flooding over his body. He stared toward the mountains to the north. Smatterings of the Navajo religion and spiritual beliefs came to him.