Kiss of the Bees (52 page)

Lani Walker was already
inside
a crack in the mountain; already in a cave very much like Eagleman’s cave, with a pile of bones moldering in the far corner just the way the bones of the people Eagleman had eaten had moldered in the corner of his cave. And there were cracks inside this crack. The curtains of falling stalactites and the growing mounds of stalagmites that she had glimpsed with Quentin’s flashlight earlier all offered places where
I’itoi
could possibly have hidden and where Lani might hide herself as well.

Lani Walker had grown up in two worlds, understanding much of each. She knew instinctively that the
Mil-gahn
, Mitch, might look at the pile of debris and immediately assume that she had followed him out, climbing up and out. It might not occur to him that she would stay inside the mountain; that without benefit of a light she would have nerve enough to trust herself to
I’itoi’
s power and move into the enveloping darkness rather than away from it.

With him scrabbling through the one passage and with Lani trapped in the other, there wasn’t a moment to lose. Halfway down the passage, the man-made earthen covering yielded once more to bare, jagged rocks. She could feel the sharp edges under the soles of her boots. She remembered that just before Quentin had ducked into the passage, she had glimpsed the walls of the huge cavern receding far into the mountain.

Clinging to the dank, wet wall and using it as a guide, she turned left from the mouth of the passage and fled along the side of the cavern, into the heart of the mountain.

Into the heart of
I’itoi
’s sacred mountain,
she told herself.
That is where I am going. Either I will be safe there, or that is where I will die.

Hardly daring to breathe, she scraped along, still clinging to the wall, testing each tentative stepping place before she put her weight down. She came to the first break in the wall. Feeling around it with both arms, she realized it was a stalagmite, one three feet wide and about that tall, rising up from the floor of the cave. It wasn’t large, but perhaps it was large enough to hide her. She ducked behind it just as the first jagged beams from Mitch’s flashlight flickered into the cave and then slid across the otherworldly surface of the far wall.

Lani pressed herself against the sheltering stalagmite and held her breath. She didn’t dare peek out for fear the beam from the light might reveal her face glowing white in the darkness. She marked his progress by watching the bouncing ray of his flashlight as he came across the room and by the curses and moans that accompanied his every step. She couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying, but every once in a while the word “knee” surfaced and there was something about “cops.”

Perhaps, in clambering up and over the debris, he had reinjured the knee that had been bothering him earlier. That would explain the knee part. As for the cops, Lani couldn’t imagine what he meant. It didn’t seem possible that there would be police officers outside looking for her. How could there be? How would anyone know where to look?

After what seemed an eternity, Mitch disappeared into the second passageway. Lani was tempted to stay where she was, but since this was the first hiding place she had found and the one nearest the opening to the second cavern, it was also most likely the first place Mitch Johnson would look when he came searching for her again. She would have to do better than that.

Hoping the noise of his own movements would mask hers, she crept on, trying to suppress the ragged breaths that threatened to catch in her throat and ignoring the sweat that trickled down the back of her neck. Two steps farther, her foot slipped off a sharp edge into a pool of icy water. The splash sounded like an explosion in her pounding ears, but when she stopped still and waited, there was no answering sound from the other room. Perhaps he hadn’t heard it.

Barely able to breathe, she moved on. A dozen more steps into the mountain, she found a gap between two stalagmites and burrowed her way into that, stopping only when she came up against solid rock.

Closing her eyes against the darkness, she let Nana
Dahd’
s comforting words spill over her soul:

Be like
I’itoi,
Little
Olhoni.

Be like I’itoi
and hide yourself

In the smallest crack. Hide yourself somewhere

And do not come out again until the battle is over.

Listen to what I sing to you, Little
Olhoni
.

Do not look at me but do exactly as I say.

Trying to obey Nana
Dahd’
s instructions, Lani pressed herself even deeper into the crack in the wall. She had just eased her way down into a reasonably comfortable sitting position on another low-slung stalagmite when she heard the roar of rage in the other room. She cringed. Now it’s coming, she thought.

Now the evil
Ohb
knows I’m gone.

*    *    *

Summoned by Sheriff Bill Forsythe, a loose coalition of officers from several jurisdictions converged on the Walker home in Gates Pass. They were just starting to work when the doorbell rang and Brandon went to answer it. Standing there was FBI Agent in Charge, Brock Kendall. After years of working together, Kendall and Brandon Walker had gone from being colleagues to becoming friends.

Kendall held out his hand. “I heard you were having some trouble,” he said. “How does that old saying go? I’m from Washington and I’m here to help.”

Brandon Walker’s face cracked into a pained grin. “Thanks, Brock,” he said. “Come on in.”

“How bad is it?”

Walker shook his head. “The worst,” he said. “About as bad as it can get.”

“And the perpetrator may be Quentin, your own son?”

As a father, Brandon could barely stand to answer that question. “Yes,” he said. “That’s the way it looks.”

Even with Brian Fellows and Dan Leggett doing the briefings, it still took precious time to bring all the players up to speed. Brandon Walker tolerated the seemingly interminable interviews as best he could because he knew they were necessary. And he understood that a meticulous crime scene investigation conducted by FBI-trained personnel was equally essential. Even so, it was hard not to fall prey to the thought that nothing much was happening.

At six o’clock in the morning he went into the bedroom. Diana, fully dressed, lay on the bed, staring dry-eyed up at the ceiling. “What’s happening?” she asked.

“Brock Kendall is here, on an unofficial basis, of course, unless it starts looking like someone crossed state lines or until he can clear the way under missing and exploited children. Detective Leggett just sent out for a search warrant for Quentin’s apartment over on Grant. Dan’s a thorough kind of guy. He isn’t going to make a move until he has all his ducks in a row.”

“If Lani’s already dead, what difference will being thorough make?” Diana asked despairingly.

“Don’t say that,” Brandon returned. “Don’t even think it.”

“You heard the tape,” Diana said. “What else is there to think? And why would Quentin do such a thing? What did Lani ever do to him? Is it jealousy? Is that what this is all about? We would have done exactly the same things for Tommy and Quentin that we did for Davy and Lani if they had ever shown the slightest interest. And every time we tried to do something, Janie was right there saying it wasn’t good enough for them. No matter what we did, it wasn’t enough.”

“Shhhh,” Brandon said, laying a finger on Diana’s lips. They were as parched and dry as if she had been running a fever. “It isn’t Janie’s fault that Quentin’s gone off his rocker,” Brandon said. “Don’t waste your time blaming her, and don’t blame us either.”

“That’s what you’re saying then? Quentin’s gone crazy and what’s happened has no connection to the book? Nothing tonight has anything to do with the danger Fat Crack warned us about?”

Brandon slumped wearily against the headboard on his side of the bed. “I can’t see what the connection would be,” he said. “Insanity is the only thing that makes sense.”

Just then there was a tap on the door. A young deputy poked his head inside the room. “Brock Kendall was trying to use your phone a few minutes ago. He said there’s evidently a message on your answering machine. He said you should probably listen to it just in case it happens to be a ransom demand. We’re in the process of setting a trap on your line. This call must have come in before that.”

Brandon played back the message. Using the speaker phone, they both listened to Wanda Ortiz’s voice.

“Gabe and Baby just left for Rattlesnake Skull Charco,” Wanda said. “He wants you to meet him there. He says that’s where you’ll find Lani.”

By the time the message ended, Brandon had already slipped his shoes back on and was bent over tying them. “What are you going to do?” Diana asked.

“You heard Wanda. Fat Crack wants me to meet him at Rattlesnake Skull Charco, and that’s where I’m going.”

Diana started to slide off the bed. “If that’s where she is, I’m going too.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Why not?” Diana demanded, slipping on her own shoes. “Why the hell shouldn’t I? Lani’s my daughter, too.”

Brandon didn’t want to say the real reason, that he was afraid of what they would find at Rattlesnake Skull Charco—afraid of what they would see. He couldn’t seem to do much, but at least he could spare Diana that.

“One of us needs to be here to answer the phone,” he said. “What if a ransom call does come in?”

Diana’s voice rose, verging on hysteria. “There’s not going to be any ransom call. You know that. You just—”

“Please, Diana,” Brandon said huskily. He reached out and touched her, letting his fingers graze gently down the curving line of her cheek. “Please stay here. I can’t order you to stay, but do it because I need you to, Di. Because I’m asking.”

Diana sank back down on the bed. “All right,” she said. “I’ll stay.”

“Thank you,” Brandon said. He started toward the door.

“You’ll take the cell phone?”

“It’s already in my pocket.”

“Call the moment you hear anything,” Diana added. “The moment you find her. Promise me you’ll call, no matter how bad it is.”

Brandon stopped at the door and looked back at his wife. “I promise,” he said. “No matter how bad.”

Leaving Diana alone, he hurried out into the living room. “What’s up?” Brock Kendall asked.

“Hitch up the wagons. We need to go out to the place where they found those bones yesterday afternoon. According to Gabe Ortiz, that’s where we’ll find Lani—at Rattlesnake Skull Charco.”

Brian Fellows leaped to his feet. “I can take you there,” he offered. “It’s not easy to find but—”

“I’ve been there before,” Brandon Walker said. “It’s the same place where we found Gina Antone all those years ago. Besides, Brian, I want you to stay here.”

Disappointment washed over the young deputy’s face. He started to argue. “But I—”

“Most of the other officers here are strangers, Brian,” Brandon Walker said. “You’re family. I’d like you to be here to be with Diana just in case. To give her some emotional backup. I only pray she won’t need it.”

“All right, Mr. Walker,” Brian said. “If that’s what you want me to do, I’ll be glad to stay.”

Brandon had left the Suburban parked out in front of the house. “Gabe Ortiz,” Brock Kendall was saying as they climbed in. “That name sounds familiar. Who is he again?”

“A friend of the family,” Brandon answered. “He’s also the
Tohono O’othham
tribal chairman.”

“But what does he have to do with all this, and how would he know that’s where Lani might be?”

“He’s a medicine man,” Brandon answered, heading for the door. “He knows stuff. Don’t ask me how, but he does.”

Sitting in the mouth of the cave, watching the flashing red lights in the desert below, Mitch Johnson fought his way through an initial attack of panic. He was convinced that the lights had nothing to do with him. What he couldn’t understand was why the hell they didn’t finish up whatever it was they were doing and go away. The little Indian slut was still missing, but he was beginning to think that maybe she hadn’t made it out of the cave after all.

He couldn’t believe he had screwed up that badly, but there was no one to blame but himself. He had counted too heavily on the drugs to control Quentin. He had kept the Bronco’s ignition key in his pocket, but Quentin must have had a spare. He had raced out of the cave in a rage when he heard the Bronco start up without taking the precaution of securing the girl first. When he first discovered that Lani was missing, he had figured she had simply followed his own path up and over the landslide debris in the smaller cavern and out to the steep surface of the mountain.

Now, though, he wondered if that was true. Had she gone that way, she, too, would have seen the lights. If she had gone straight there, hoping to be rescued, wouldn’t her appearance have provoked an almost instantaneous reaction? By now the mountainside would have been crawling with cops ready to use Mitch Johnson for some high-tech nighttime target practice. No doubt a bunch of eager-beaver searchers would have combed every inch of the surrounding terrain. One of them was bound to have stumbled across the crumpled hulk of Quentin Walker’s Bronco.

No, as the still night slid into early morning, as the sky brightened in the east, and as the flashing red lights stayed right where they were, Mitch grew more and more convinced that Lani Walker was still somewhere inside the cave and probably freezing her cute little tush off as well.

He had already decided on a backup plan of action. All he had to do was make it to the Bounder. Even with his knee acting up again, he could walk that far. Then, if he drove into town, hooked on to the Subaru, he could drive off into the sunset and no one would be the wiser. He understood, however, that a plan like that would work only so long as Lani Walker wasn’t alive to point an accusing finger in his direction.

Which meant that, inside the cave or out of it, Mitch Johnson had to find her first.