The Eagle and the Fox (A Snowy Range Mystery, #1) (36 page)

By his own admission, the man—his prisoner—had done vile things. Josh had been tasked with delivering him, not judging him. And of course he had complied, quietly and without prejudice, because he believed in the system, that it would sort out truth from fiction, wielding justice dispassionately.

The discipline, the job—both had provided clarity for much of his adult life. In some ways it still did, yet... He couldn’t shake the feeling he would soon need to make a choice—about what he had no notion—just that in choosing, the consequences would ripple out in unpredictable ways.

Josh paused where the well-worn path branched to the left, toward the small cabin nestled away from the main house, sheltered and cosseted from the weather but still within sight of the kitchen door. Unlike then, the building now welcomed with freshly painted shutters and a miniscule porch swept clean of pine needles and debris.

He smiled and pondered at how it no longer hurt to do so, his muscles adapting to his new reality with an ease he’d never believed would happen again. For that he owed Becca, and now Marcus. Especially Marcus. Two years strangers. Then friends. All because he’d waited on the porch, waited for a chance to try.

Hobbling to the front door, Josh lifted the latch and peeked inside. Becca, Polly and her girls, even Maudie and Felicity, had created a feminine haven, a safe house where a girl on the cusp of being a woman could call her own, away from crotchety middle-aged men set in their ways.

Marcus had called it privacy for them, but Josh knew differently. His vision had created the gift of solitude and peace for a child who’d known so little that she’d been forced to retreat inside her mind to survive.

Marcus said, “The gals did good, didn’t they?’

Startled, Josh barked, “Cripes, man, whistle or something. You damn near gave me a heart attack.” He moved aside to allow Marcus to enter the one room cabin remarking, “Nice flowers. Didn’t know the lupine were out already.”

Marcus set the small vase with the purple blooms on a desk next to the cot. The room was sparsely furnished—a cot covered in a frilly quilt, a scarred desk Josh recognized from Becca’s old bedroom, a couple of folding chairs and two overlarge floor pillows, a coat rack to hang clothes. The student lamp on the desk was lit, spreading pale yellow light. Pictures in frames, a half dozen or so, leaned against the rough cut wood walls. Holly had suggested letting the girl chose where to hang them, to make the space her own, if she wanted to.

There was a big if in all that. None of them had any idea what the child would think of their efforts, how she would react. Judging from the excited chatter outside, Josh suspected they’d know soon enough.

Sweat beaded Marcus’ brow. He muttered, “Maybe we should’ve waited,” followed by, “This wasn’t a good idea...”

Josh took his hand and squeezed. “Come on, Marcus. Let’s meet them outside. I think it best Petilune sees this by herself. It’s a lot to take in. Crowding her might make her spook.”

Petilune stood just beyond the overhang, hands covering her eyes. Maudie and Felicity flanked her, with Becca behind, hands on Petilune’s hips to guide her. Josh stepped aside, giving Marcus the imaginary podium. This had been his idea, and now his face betrayed the terror he’d made the wrong decision.

Josh whispered to Petilune, “Open your eyes, sweety.”

He listened with one ear to Marcus haltingly explain why they’d fixed up the cabin, how it was hers and hers alone, a special place she could use whenever she needed it. He emphasized her bedroom in the house belonged to her also, and they were a family now. Nothing about that had changed. But mostly he stared at Petilune, watching for signs of a meltdown. She’d taken on the glassy stare they’d grown used to—her mind there, but not—her elfin features framed with billowing, fragile blonde strands.

Josh asked, “Would you like to see it?” Petilune nodded and minced past Marcus, her head down as she entered her private domain and closed the door.

Marcus joined them, his eyebrows jutting toward his hairline. Maudie and her sister were hanging onto the hem of Becca’s flannel shirt, oddly silent. Josh was tempted to join them in seeking out a place of solace. That or duck behind the cabin and light up because his nerves were just about shot.

He could face down an asshole shooting at him, or a guy swinging a tree trunk at his head, trying to bash his brains to mush, but acting like an uncle? Fuck it, this was as close to being a father as he or Marcus were ever going to get. If someone had suggested years ago he’d be in this position at this stage of his life, he’d have damn near died laughing.

He wasn’t laughing now. Neither was Marcus. Funny how, when things mattered—when people mattered—your perspective changed, flip-flopping without rhyme or reason.

The door opened. He exchanged an anxious glance with Marcus and opened his mouth to ask Petilune how she liked the cabin, but the girl swept past them without a word and headed for the house.

Maudie called out, “Pet, where ya going?”

Josh pleaded, “Becca, go with her.”

His sister shook her head no and counseled, “Give it a couple minutes.” To her girls, Becca said, “Well, ladies, it’s time for me to make us some dinner and for you two to get that homework done.” To the “A
w, Ma”
, she simply pursed her lips and suggested if they’d rather not watch
Frozen
after dinner, then they were welcome to stay.

Josh looked away, not wanting the kids to see him laughing as they meekly followed their mother home. When he turned to speak to Marcus, he caught sight of Petilune skipping down the path, her backpack clutched in her arms. He and Marcus separated and let her pass. She was inside only long enough to set the backpack down and come back out.

Taking Marcus’ hand, Petilune said, “Polly bought me a nightgown.” Marcus looked lost.

Josh said, “You don’t
have
to sleep out here, hon.”

She nodded and whispered, “I know,” as she reached for Josh’s hand and led both of them back to the house.

****

B
eing a side sleeper sucked lemons, especially after knee and thigh surgery. To turn over meant waking up enough to use whatever limbs functioned to roll his body into a new position. Josh tried sleeping on his back, especially after Marcus curled into his shoulder, exhausted from worry about Petilune.

It was too bad exhaustion didn’t automatically translate into sleep. What Josh wanted more than anything was to shut down his overactive brain. It had been ticking all night with unanswered questions about the drug dealers still on the loose, about Jackie Goggles not showing up and the cops pulling back, as if the kid was too low on the totem pole to matter one way or the other.

The court date for Dee and Joey had been scheduled on separate days. Josh had no doubt bail would be high, but someone with deep pockets would likely spring both of them, flight risk be damned. To leave them inside the system meant courting disaster if Josh’s suspicions about the area around Centurion morphing into a production as well as distribution locus turned out to be true. They both knew too much, and whoever had sent Dee and his henchmen, they already had a toehold and an investment they’d be loath to forego easily.

The papers and the local news station sang the praises of a law enforcement system win, removing five million dollars in designer, potentially lethal drugs from the market. That there shouldn’t even
be
a market seemed beyond their comprehension. All the cops had done was buy time. Dee would take his crew, lick his wounds, and wait for his next assignment. Josh doubted they’d be back, but someone just like them lurked in the wings. They always did.

As for Jackie and Joey, Josh hoped they’d move on, maybe follow their mother to wherever she’d rabbited. Of all of them, Petilune’s brothers were the loose cannons that most bothered him. They might see Petilune’s squirrelling away the stash of drugs as betrayal, worthy of retribution, but that would mean coming out of hiding. Both boys were too well known to risk that, especially for a girl they saw as too addled to think straight most of the time.

Petilune’s façade had probably saved her. It could also damn her, something he and Marcus understood all too well.

Then there was the problem of Kit. The teen had suffered a gut wound but apparently he’d recovered enough to be remanded to the juvenile court system. When Josh had called the hospital for an update on the boy’s condition, the night nurse had dropped the bomb about Kit being released sometime the next day.

The parallels of what had happened to him in the desert and Kit risking everything for Petilune weren’t lost on him. The irony was that Josh knew
why
the kid was there, just not
what
he was there for. If he hadn’t seen the kid in a hospital bed, attached to machines, he could easily convince himself Kit Giniw was a ghost—a ghost who’d taken a bullet to protect Petilune.

Calhoun had listened to what Josh knew, nodding and taking notes, but not believing a word. Josh couldn’t blame him. He had trouble believing it himself. Kit was no innocent, Josh was sure about that. But in the matter of guilt, of assigning his actions to specific roles in the crimes that had been committed, that was where Josh drew a line in the sand. But Calhoun didn’t. The detective had judged and found the teen wanting.

Because Calhoun was aware he was going to lose Dee and the Goggles brothers to an imperfect system, he saw Kit as a sure thing, a slam dunk. Bird in hand.

Eagle in hand...

Josh hadn’t been aware of drifting to sleep, but the pounding on the door, hard enough to rattle the house, had him choking back a half snore. Marcus groaned and rolled out of bed, saying “I’ll get it.”

Josh barked, “Wait, help me up.”

Marcus was still half asleep, but he came to Josh’s side of the bed and maneuvered him to a standing position. Josh reached into the night stand and pulled out his Glock, chambered a round and nodded for Marcus to stay back.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but it’s not even light yet. Becca’s got a key. It’s not her.”

Limping toward the door, Josh stayed out of sight, backing against the wall, his gun at the ready. Marcus gave him the...
are you serious...
stare, then called out, “Who is it?”

“Calhoun.”

Marcus switched on the porch light and fingered the gauze curtain aside. He nodded to Josh and slowly opened the door to reveal the cop holding up his badge.

Josh growled, “I take it this isn’t a social visit.” He held the gun up, then backed away and set it on an end table. Calhoun followed the movement with flat cop eyes.

Marcus said, “If you’re coming in, I’ll make some coffee.” Without waiting for a reply he made his way toward the kitchen, turning on lights as he went, Josh and Calhoun following.

After they got themselves seated, Josh asked, “What brings you all the way out here at the ass crack of dawn?”

Calhoun glanced around the kitchen, taking his time. Finally he said, “I heard you two have taken the Goggles girl under your wing.”

Setting the carafe onto the coffee maker, Marcus turned and asked, “What’s this about, Det. Calhoun? Everybody in Centurion knows she’s here and why. Including Rev. Allen for Christ’s sake.”

Without taking his eyes off the cop, Josh said to Marcus, “It’s okay. The detective’s just doing his job.” He shifted in his seat, gut churning. He hated not knowing what the hell was going on. Echoing his words to Marcus, Josh spit out, “Isn’t that right, Calhoun, you’re just doing your job?”

The cop ignored the jab. “You say the girl’s here?” Josh nodded, his stomach sinking. He had a bad feeling about where this was going. “Mind if I look?”

Josh stood up, knocking his stool back, and growled, “Yeah, I mind. You want to look, then you fucking come back with a warrant. You do that and you can search to your heart’s content.”

“Don’t do this, Foxglove. It’s not worth it, and you know it.”

“I don’t know fuck all, Calhoun. How about you fill me in.”

Taking a deep breath, Calhoun held his hands up, palms out. “Sit down, Josh. Please.”

Marcus muttered, “Josh...”

Easing onto the cushion, Josh nodded to Calhoun. “I’m listening.”

“The hospital called, said you’d spoken to the night duty nurse around nine o’clock. Asked about Kit Giniw.”

Josh nodded yes since there was no reason not to admit to what was a documented call. He added, “I’m just now getting back on my feet, otherwise I’d have checked in earlier. Why?”

“Because sometime between eleven and four, Kit walked out of the hospital and vanished into thin air.” The tendons in his neck bulged as he said, “I’m thinking that’s not a co-incidence.”

Marcus blurted, “You can’t think Josh had anything to do with that. He was here with me all night, damn it.” He moved around the table and placed his hands on Josh’s shoulders. “I changed the dressing on his leg.”

Josh gave the detective a calculated stare, then said, “You think he had help.”

“I’m sure of it.” His eyes flicked to the truck keys hanging on the wall by the back door and asked again, “Where’s the girl?”

Squeezing Josh’s shoulders so hard he winced, Marcus replied to the detective’s question with a steady voice. “She’s in the guest cabin.”

“You won’t mind if I look, will you?” He glared at Josh. “Or do I still need to get a warrant?”

Josh clamped his lips shut while he debated the issue. Marcus spoke softly. “I think we need to know if she’s there, Josh. I’ll take Det. Calhoun down. You stay here.”

Marcus padded to a row of drawers and pulled out a flashlight. “If you’re ready, we can go look.”

As Marcus turned to lead the detective outside, the door knob turned, stopping them all dead in their tracks. Petilune peered around the door jamb. “Am I late for breakfast?”

Recovering first, Marcus exchanged a look with Josh, then said, “No, sweety. We were just making coffee for Det. Calhoun. He stopped by to say hello and see how you were doing.”

Petilune shuffled in, set her backpack on the floor by the door, and primly smoothed a few stray tendrils of hair behind her ear. Josh said, “You’ll be the prettiest girl in school today. Is that a new dress?”