Indelible (22 page)

“Nat?”

She had modeled them away. They should be gone, dealt with.

He set Cody on the floor and turned her to face him. “The studio?”

“I don’t understand. I moved these out.” She’d finished the statue, for heaven’s sake.

“There’s a lot of emotion here.” He cupped her shoulder. “Tell me what you need from the store.”

“Some of it I can’t get in town.” She shook her head.

“Like what?”

“A bed for Cody.”

“I can handle that. What else?”

“Pull-Ups. They’re diapers that—”

“I know what they are, Nattie. I’ve spent lots of time with little boys.” He wrote down the things she said, then pocketed the pen. “Okay. I’ll drop you at the studio and work on this list. When you can see again, call my cell.”

“What about Cody?”

“He’s coming with me.” He held her coat as she slipped her arms into the sleeves, too disoriented to argue. He bundled Cody and got him into the car seat Aaron had left. Whether Cody remembered his champion, or was used to strangers caring for him, she didn’t know, but he took to Trevor as naturally as could be.

With fresh clay in the studio, she once again exorcised the terror on the mountain. As she worked, it began to snow. When she’d finished, six powdery inches cloaked the world outside with flakes like airy dumplings plopping down. Looking up to find such beauty filled her with a surprising lightness.

She went to the window and stared. The spring trickled through ruffled icy plates, in curtains of jeweled droplets. Her heart caught in her throat as her eyes captured the image.

Tearing her gaze away, she called Trevor. “How’s it going?”

“Just setting things up. You ready to come home?”

Home
.

He said, “Cody’s napping, but—”

“Don’t wake him. There’s something else I can do.”

“I’ll come as soon as he rallies.”

“Okay.” Staring out again, she breathed in the beauty that so perfectly reflected her joy. This one would be mostly glass.

Satan from hence, now on the lower stair,
That scaled by steps of gold to Heaven-gate,
Looks down with wonder at the sudden view
Of all this world at once.

I
t fell from the sky like ash, but white. Feathers and down, floating, swirling. He walked through a cloud, alive with seraphs, darting and dodging and drifting. Hooded he walked but face upraised, spellbound by the icy touch of frozen hands, searching him, finding him, burning him.

How could he breathe the frigid air of angels and still live? He whose breath was smoke and flame, whose fingers scorched the night, whose blood ran black with soot.

Here their paths would cross, their fates align. And he felt dwarfed. Shrunken. His freezing cheeks stung with tears. He was tired. So tired.

He paused at a nearby domicile, the weathered sign announcing it a rental. Moving around to the back, he watched warily for observant eyes, then jimmied the lock and slipped inside the back door, through the oak and linoleum kitchen. Into one corner of the living room, he coiled like a viper, drawing warmth from a radiator set low, but not off, protecting the home’s copper veins from aneurism. Though daylight, he could no longer fight sleep or what dreams would come.

He slipped his hand into his cape and took out a roll, then tore from it a section of tape to affix over his own mouth. A necessary precaution. No one lived here, but still someone might hear his screams.

Fourteen

O
kay, let me get this straight.” Jonah eyed Forney Haines. “You came out last night to have a smoke.”

“Put on my boots and walked to the garage. With Mary’s emphysema, I go far enough she won’t get a whiff and want one herself with the oxygen and all.”

Jonah could have told him he carried enough scent to catch a whiff at thirty yards.

“I took my boots off before I came in cuz she doesn’t like dirt tromped in.” He gave Officer Donnelly a look to make sure she appreciated his consideration.

She gave him a bland stare, no doubt certain a male officer would have been spared that confidence.

“Ten minutes later, I come out for a smoke—”

“You went ten minutes between cigarettes?” Sue asked.

“Well, it was coming on to bedtime …”

Jonah cleared his throat. “You came out and …”

“No boots.” Forney spread his hands.

“What do you think happened?”

“Someone took ’em.” His tone said that much was clear. “One minute I got boots, ten minutes later, I don’t.”

Jonah studied the ground around the stoop. All the footprints bore the same boot mark.

Sue said, “Did you hear anything?”

“Not one peep. And Mary’s got ears like a bat. Whoever took them was quiet as a ghost.”

Jonah nodded. “Well, give us a description of the boots.”

“I wrote it all down.” Forney handed him a Post-it. “Including what I paid at the Wal-Mart.”

Climbing back into the cruiser, Sue said, “Do bats have ears?”

“Sure. Pretty sharp ones they use for echolocation.”

“Wonder if that’s how Mary knows where he is.”

“Could be, Officer Donnelly. Could be.” He started the engine.

“So where are his boots?”

“Someone probably took them.” He backed the cruiser.

“What are the odds he’ll buy himself a new pair?”

“Ninety-nine to one.”

“We have one percent chance of finding them?”

“Rubber hunting boots from Wal-Mart. Unless Mary sewed his name inside …”

Sue giggled.

“That’s not very officerly.”

She straightened. “Who would take somebody’s boots?”

“Someone who needs them.”

She clicked her tongue. “I hate to think people can’t leave something on their own back stoop anymore. What’s this town coming to?”

They had a good laugh, considering last year they’d taken down a meth lab.

Even though he shoveled, they still kicked powder to the door.

“Come see, Auntie Nattie!” The moment they got inside, Cody took off down the hall, his gait awkward with the body memory still so strong of a balancing appendage.

Knowing the ache of a body changed forever, Trevor followed them to the second bedroom in which he’d taken some liberty. She froze in the doorway.

“We tent dwellers have to stick together.”

Near the back corner he’d pitched a small dome tent and outfitted it with air mattress and sleeping bag. The flaps were all open across the top for easy viewing, but it enclosed and corralled the little guy who dove in and rolled. Surrounding the tent were stuffed black bears, moose, mountain goats, and elk. From the Kicking Horse ski shop were size-three winter gear, snow boots, mittens, and a European-style cap with ear flaps and tassels. Against the wall leaned a tiny pair of skis.

He turned. “Hey.” He hadn’t meant to make her cry.

“I can’t believe you did this. It’s perfect.”

“I’m an outfitter.”

“But still …” She held out her hand. “Let me see the damage.”

“Nattie.”

“You paid for the wolf mountain. And Fleur’s painting.”

“Fine. I’ll figure it out and get back to you.”

She sniffed. “Look at him. He’s so happy.” Cody tackled a moose and rolled with it into the tent. “He might have had such a hard time, but you made his first day awesome.”

“This was good for me.” Better than she could know.

She slid her hand into his, and that was good too, but, holding it against his side, he said, “You told me we’re moving too fast. I don’t want that.”

“No, it’s just …” She moistened her lips.

“You don’t want to be Jaz.”

She stared at the floor. “I wouldn’t hate you. But … you’re …”

“Please stop thinking I’m something—”

Cody charged out of the tent and hugged his leg with one tiny arm, wiping out anything he might have said.

“I want da fashlight.”

“It’s in the tent. Look under the covers.”

Cody burrowed back in.

“Flashlight.” She shook her head. “Tell me you didn’t get him a pocketknife.”

“Swiss Army Ranger—kidding.” He hugged her shoulders, laughing. How long since he’d really, really laughed? The release was full and physical. A tiny spider on the window paused as the vibrations reached it, then continued its vertical climb.

Laughing with him, Natalie could hardly contain her happiness, but, perversely, it heightened her concern. She turned. “You didn’t tell me about the other photos, Trevor.”

He cocked his head back. “Where did that come from?”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Don’t worry.”

“You can’t keep me out of it.”

“I’m not.” But he conceded, “I was leaving. I didn’t want to scare you.”

“I don’t scare as easily as you think. I just want to know what’s happening.”

He spread his hands. “If I had any answers—”

“Can I play inna snow now?” Cody rolled out, one snow boot on his hand.

Trevor’s eyes smiled. “I told him he had to wait for you.”

“Well, sure.” She scooped him up, but cast a look over her shoulder. “We’re not done with this.” Then to Cody, “Where could that other boot be?” When she had him all dolled up like a magazine ad, she could hardly keep from hugging him. “Have you ever seen anything so adorable?”

“You forgot his skis.”

She sat back on her heels. “They’re real?”

“Of course they are.”

“He’s barely three.”

“Two years late.” He took the skis from against the wall, the skis and a different pair of boots.

Cody would have been happy to stomp around in the white stuff, but Trevor got him outfitted and hoisted him to one hip.

“Do you think with only one—”

“He’s never tried it with two.”

“But if he falls …”

“Part of the deal.” He nodded toward the door.

She pushed it open reluctantly.

“Relax. We’re going on a little hill. And what does he fall, fourteen inches?” The “ski slope” at the end of the block was about a twelve-foot run, but steep. At the top, Trevor set Cody onto his skis, aligned them next to each other, and said, “Slide your feet back and forth.”

“Isn’t he supposed to snowplow?”

Trevor angled his gaze up at her.

“Sorry.”

Watching him work with Cody warmed her. The little guy might have been crying for his mom and dad and wondering what happened to his life, but Trevor had turned this into an adventure. Her heart swelled when, in no time, Trevor had him rocketing straight down the hill into his arms.

“I didn’t realize he’d be downhill racing.”

“Look at him. He feels the slope.” Trevor stood Cody at the top and caught him at the bottom, replaced and caught him again. “Some kids can’t help holding back.” He glanced up.
“They
learn to snowplow.”

She rolled her eyes. Not her one-armed nephew. The few times Cody fell, Trevor lifted him. Once Cody had his mechanical arm, he’d be unstoppable.

As wind dusted her face with snow, Cody dove into her legs. “I’m hungry.”

She looked at her watch. “Oh boy. I’d better start dinner.”

“Relax.” Trevor scooped up her nephew. “We’ve got it covered.”

“Oh?” She tromped behind them to the house. Her house, but Trevor entered as though he paid the mortgage. While she unbundled Cody, Trevor slipped out of his yellow parka and gloves, pulled off the knit beanie, and shook out his hair. The hat had caused a little flip around his ears and neck. Endearing. And more than a little sexy.