Shadow Play (12 page)

I promise you.

SONDERVILLE, CALIFORNIA

1:05 A.M.

It was damn chilly in the woods tonight. There might be frost by morning.

Nalchek zipped up his leather jacket and moved a little faster down the trail toward the grave site. He could hear the leaves crackle under his feet, Hell, why was he even here at this hour? He hadn't been able to sleep and had given up after a couple hours of turning and twisting in his bed.

And it was Eve Duncan's fault. She had made him doubt his ability, and he'd been drawn back here to make sure that he was right, and she was wrong. It had been hard for him to give her the politeness she deserved when he was so frustrated. He didn't need to begin thinking he might be making mistakes. He had learned in Afghanistan that that could lead to disaster. You just barreled ahead after you decided on a course and went after the objective.

If you knew the objective. It was only a vague—

Movement.

Up ahead.

He stopped.

A light step but not an animal. Two-footed. And the rhythm was different.

And he was headed for the grave site.

Nalchek glided forward, listening.

Not much to hear. That step was very light, and the brush was scarcely moving as he passed.

And then the movement stopped.

He had reached the grave.

Nalchek stopped, too.

No sound.

What was the bastard doing?

He glided forward until he could see the grave beyond the trees.

A figure in jeans and a dark hoodie was kneeling by the grave, reaching, digging through the dirt.

Shit!

“Halt.” He barreled through the trees and dove down in a low tackle. “You're under—” He stopped as a fist crashed into his lower lip. To hell with it. Read him his rights later.

Just take him down.

He grappled him over on his stomach and grabbed his wrists to cuff him.

Him?

He stiffened. Those wrists were too delicate, that body he was straddling was not—

A woman? Either that or a teenage boy. He'd bet on its being a woman.

He finished the cuffing and flipped her over on her back.

He shined his flashlight down on her face.

Maybe not quite a woman. A girl not over nineteen or twenty.

Her sun-streaked hair had tumbled from beneath the hoodie, and she had glowing, healthy skin, and her blue eyes were very wary.

“I'm not a threat to you.” She moistened her lips. “Are you a threat to me?”

“Maybe. It depends on what you tell me in the next few minutes.”

“I can't see you. It sounded like you were starting to say I was under arrest before you got rough with me.”

“I didn't get rough with you. You would have known it if I had.”

“You have on a leather jacket. I felt it when I was struggling with you. It had some kind of insignia on it. Cop?”

“I could be one of the Hell's Angels.”

“Yeah. I'm hoping for cop. Let me see you.”

He turned the beam on himself. “You might be better off with the motorcycle gang. I don't like people messing around my crime scenes. Are you some college kid who's hazing for a sorority?”

“No.” She was studying him with narrowed eyes, her gaze going from his broad shoulders sheathed in the black leather jacket to his muscular body garbed in the tan uniform and down to his black boots. Then it traveled up to his close-cut dark hair, to his craggy cheekbones, square, defined chin, and deep-set blue eyes. “I think maybe you're right. You look … formidable. I might be better off with a Hell's Angel.”

“Now that we agree on that score, let's find out who the hell you are. You're not a college kid. Curiosity seeker? Do you belong to one of those phony witch covens and are trying to get ritual dirt for one of your spells?”

“You do have an imagination. Why don't you just let me answer you?” She tilted her head. “You're the local sheriff? What's your name?”

“John Nalchek.” He pulled her to a sitting position. “And I was giving you the benefit of the doubt. My next question was going to be what you had to do with the killer who murdered the little girl who was buried in that grave.”

“Nothing. I was just examining the grave and seeing if I could tell if—” She studied his face. “You're very tough and you're not ready for explanations yet.” She suddenly gave him a luminous smile. “But maybe you could take these handcuffs off me. Then you could take me to the diner I saw down the road and give me a cup of coffee until you are ready.”

He started to pat her down for weapons. “Or you could tell me your name, and I'll phone it in and get your record.”

“My name is Margaret Douglas.” She made a face. “And my way is better for all of us. Do you know anything about me?”

“No, but I will after I phone it in. Give me your driver's license.”

“That's kind of difficult. I don't have one.”

“Then how did you get here?”

“I hitchhiked from San Francisco, then walked the rest of the way after I reached Sonderville. You've never heard of me?”

“Why should I have heard of you?”

“I thought Eve might have paved the way. I guess she wasn't sure that I'd show up.”

He stiffened. “Eve?”

“Eve Duncan. She sent word through a friend that she needed me.”

“Why?”

“She thought I might be able to help.” She added simply, “I know pretty much about woods and animals and stuff like this.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“You're upset. That's why she didn't tell you about me. I'm kind of hard to explain.”

“Because you're a kid who looks like she's barely out of high school and supposed to be better at tracking and recovery than I am? Yeah, that's damn hard to explain.”

“And your pride is hurt?” She studied him. “I wouldn't think that your ego was that fragile.”

He finished searching her. “You don't know anything about me, Margaret Douglas.”

“No, but I think I'd like to. You're very interesting. But you can see I'm not much of a danger to you. That patdown was very intimate, and you have to know I don't have any weapons.”

“Not while I have you down and under control. You could have stashed them somewhere in the woods. You might look like the girl next door, but that doesn't mean anything. When I was in Afghanistan, a young woman not much older than you came running toward my unit screaming for us to save her. When she was close enough to do damage, she pressed a button and blew herself to pieces, together with four of my buddies.”

“I'm sorry,” she said quietly. “That must have been terrible for you. No wonder you frisked me down so thoroughly.” She sighed. “Now why don't you call Eve and tell her that you've captured and cuffed me and see what she says. If you don't trust me, you'll trust her. Everyone always trusts Eve.”

“Because she's not a flighty kid wandering around the woods and sniffing the soil around graves.”

“She would if it was part of her job. I imagine she does lots of things that would scare most people off. Call her. I could use that cup of coffee.”

He hesitated. “She's not going to appreciate a call in the middle of the night. She probably just checked into her hotel.” He started dialing. “What the hell. She's the one who sent you and started all of us spinning in circles.”

“Spinning? That's a good word. Yes, she did, didn't she?” She crossed her legs Indian fashion. “Tell her that I would have called her, but I wanted to have something to tell her before I made contact.”

“Tell her yourself.” He spoke into the phone as Eve answered. “John Nalchek. I apprehended a young woman in the woods tonight at the crime scene. She identified herself as Margaret Douglas. I assume you're familiar with her?”

“Margaret?” Eve repeated. “I didn't know she was on her way. Apprehended? That sounds … is she okay?”

“Do you mean did I hurt her? No, but it could have happened when I caught her snooping around that grave.” He added deliberately, “She had no business there.”

“Where is she now?”

“We're still in the woods.”

“Tell her to bring coffee,” Margaret said, “I'm freezing.”

“She wants coffee,” Nalchek said sarcastically. “I guess she expects you to provide it.”

“I'll be right there.” Eve hung up.

“She verified your identity,” Nalchek said as he hung up. “So now we sit and wait.”

“You could take me to your car. It would be warmer.”

“No, I think that we're fine here. You shouldn't be trekking through the woods in nothing but that hoodie if you're worried about the cold.”

“Punishment?” She shrugged. “Fine. But I thought that I'd be moving around and be able to keep warm.” She got to her knees. “Will you take off the cuffs and let me do that? I'm not going to run away.”

“How do I know—” He muttered a curse and reached behind her and unlocked the cuffs. “Stay close. I'll be with you every step.”

“Okay.” She moved toward the grave and fell to her knees. “Just keep out of my way.” She picked up the soil and began to sniff it. She put out her tongue and delicately tasted it.

“What are—”

“Hush.” Then she got to her feet and moved into the surrounding brush. “Don't worry, I'm not trying to escape the unfriendly arms of the law. You can come along.”

“Thank you.” His eyes were narrowed on her. “But I can't ask questions?”

“You're not ready. And you disturb my concentration.” She finally stopped beside a huge oak tree. “Here. He likes it here.”

“Who?” Nalchek snapped.

“I don't know his name or if he has one.” She sat down beneath the tree. “If you'll be quiet, maybe I can find out.”

Nalchek opened his lips to speak, then closed them again.

Watch.

Listen.

Collate all information.

She might be a screwball. She might be some kind of con artist. But he wouldn't know if he didn't stop protesting and start analyzing.

He dropped down beside her and focused on her every move.

 

CHAPTER

6

“Margaret!”

“That's Eve.” Margaret got to her feet. “It's only been thirty minutes. Her hotel must have been close.” She moved out of the forest toward the grave. “Here, Eve. Did you bring my coffee?”

“Yes.” She handed her the paper cup. In the process, she touched her hand and gave a low whistle. “You're ice-cold. Why didn't you wait in Nalchek's car?”

Margaret gave Nalchek a glance. “I was so busy, I didn't notice the chill. Neither did the sheriff, or I'm sure he would have offered to bring me out of the cold.” She chuckled. “Or is that an espionage term?” She took a sip of coffee. “That's so
good
. I've spent so much time in the islands that my body temperature tends to plummet. I was fine as long as I was in Southern California.”

“I didn't offer because I was pissed off,” Nalchek said bluntly. “And I don't need you to make excuses for me. You shouldn't have been here if you object to facing the consequences.”

“I'm not objecting,” she said quietly. “I believe in consequences. It's nature's way of balancing the order of things.”

“When your friends don't take a hand.” He turned to Eve. “This isn't how I expected to meet you. I don't like your coming here anyway, and I certainly don't appreciate your sending this weird kid into my woods.”

Eve's brows rose. “Your woods?”

“My jurisdiction.” He paused. “My hometown. My county.”

“You're waving all your credentials at us,” she said shrewdly. “You must really not want us here.”

He was silent. “You'll get in my way.”

“No, I won't.” She met his gaze. “And I'll vouch for Margaret.”

“Not good enough,” Margaret said soberly. “He thinks that I might be trouble. He had a bad experience with a woman in Afghanistan who blew up a couple of his buddies and herself along with them.”

“Really?” Eve shook her head. “Just look at her, Nalchek. Anyone could see Margaret is no threat.”

“Because she looks like a college kid? The woman in Afghanistan had a baby in her arms when she blew herself up.” He gestured dismissively. “And I don't need to make any judgment about her if I don't accept her value to my investigation.”

“She will have value.” Eve turned to Margaret. “I'm sure you haven't had much time, but can you help me?”

“Maybe. He let me look around a little after he called you.” She suddenly smiled. “I don't know if it was because he was curious or that he wanted me to have enough rope to hang myself. Maybe a little of both?”

“I'd say you managed to give me plenty of ammunition. As a woods expert, you leave much to be desired,” Nalchek said dryly. “Did you know she eats dirt, Eve?”

“No, I don't recall hearing that,” Eve said. “But I'm sure she has a good reason.” She glanced at Margaret. “Do you?”

“Not what he'd consider good.” She took another drink of coffee. “It's just my way of analyzing trace evidence. And I didn't eat it, I merely tasted it.”

“That makes all the difference,” Eve said solemnly.

“Yes, it does.” She chuckled. “Though I would have eaten it if it had been necessary. It turned out that it wasn't.”

“I'm through here,” Nalchek said shortly. “And so is she. I might have accepted your expert if you could have proved she would contribute but I'm not wasting my time.”

“Proof.” Margaret's smile faded. “That's difficult for Eve. She has no firsthand information about me or what I can do. She has to trust her daughter, Jane, and a few other friends who have put their trust in me.”