Dead Reckoning (8 page)

She wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not now. Not ever. She’d done enough of that as a little girl. It never helped.

Rolling and lapping, the tide continued its endless reaching as if unable to find the object of its search. Just like her. The melancholy thoughts dug at Shiloh's heart, wearing down her resistance to the tears begging to be unleashed. Legs drawn to her chest, she leaned against the Mumbai beach retaining wall. Uneven rocks dug into her back, but the lingering warmth
made it worth the discomfort. A cool breeze teased her with the scent of curry from the café fifty meters away. With the sun setting, laughing families gathered on the beach to enjoy the last rays of light. Their happiness haunted her. Why would anyone laugh on a day like this?

She shivered and tossed the long end of the sari around her shoulders, hoping to block the chilly air. Across the rippling waters, the sun melted into the Arabian Sea. Orange spilled over the strangely grey waters. Gone was the vibrant blue-green she’d savored earlier this morning. How ironic that the sea she’d adored at the waking of the day became the one that assaulted her by close of it.

Holding her wrist, she bit her lower lip. Without Khalid's bracelet, her arm felt naked, empty. Like her soul. She pressed her head into the heel of her hand. Although she’d lost the precious gift, she had gained her safety. He’d understand. She was sure of it.

Marry me.

She clenched her eyes shut. Why did she have to remember those words? Hadn’t she buried them on Butcher Island? If—no,
when
—he got better, he’d regret it.

Images of blood, like a bad leak from a radiator, swam in her mind. First Mikhail. Then Dr. Kuntz. What if Khalid died too?

Where was Edie? Was she one of their victims as well?

A low growl rumbled through Shiloh's stomach, reminding her of the last meal she’d had—dinner last night. Without her pack, she didn’t have any rupees to buy from the vendors who littered the beach. Though she had scrounged the beach for food, families had stared, so she slipped off to a quiet corner to wait for dark and anonymity to scavenge. She had found a half-eaten apple about an hour ago, but it hadn’t gone far in sating her hunger.

Hunger. She sighed. That was the least of her worries.

She’d always had strong instincts that kept her edgy … competitive … at the top of the academic food chain. In fact, she often ended up being the butt of jokes. Some at UCSD had given her character nicknames. There was a reason they were graphic novel superheroes—they weren’t real.

Today reality smacked hard, and those graphic novels sprang to life. At the hospital the inconsistencies about those two men screamed,
imposters!
She’d followed her gut instinct then, and they’d pursued her through the city.

Her mind snapped to Brownbeard. With those muscles and his uncanny ability to appear out of nowhere, he could’ve easily overtaken her, but he hadn’t. As a matter of fact, now that she thought about it, he seemed more intent on following her. The thought forced her to scan the beach for him, and she felt relieved when she didn’t spot his large frame. Was he expecting her to lead him to something? Perhaps the same thing as the other two?

From her pocket, she slid out the object that Dr. Kuntz had given her just before he died. She sighed. What was it? A coin? An electronic device? She’d considered washing it, but what if it had some kind of sensitive circuitry? Water could destroy it. Then again, the blood probably had done that. Still, she didn’t want to risk damaging the piece any further. Somehow, it was a part of what happened today.

Wait a minute. Where was the lamp, the piece she lifted from the sea bottom this morning? She searched her other pocket. Empty. Had she left it in the scrubs with the choli vendor? She cocked her head to the side and realized when she removed the tunic, the lamp hadn’t been there. Had she lost it while running between the hospital and the shop?

Dusk settled quickly on the beach. Shadows skittered here and there like spirits in a ceremonial dance. Shiloh shook her head. Soon the last of the families would be gone, and she
could attempt to clean up in the rank bathroom and maybe even lap water from the faucet. Disgusting, but her burning lips demanded hydration.

But then what? There had to be something she could do, someone she could contact. Yet, as she ran through a mental checklist, she came up blank.

“Oh, Khalid,” she whispered, rocking herself in the sand. “What happened? I wish you were here.” A knot welled in her throat. Eyes on the stars glinting against the black, she whispered, “Please don’t die. I need you.”

Drained, she stared at the swollen waves that tumbled onto the sandy beach. A pulsing headache throbbed through her skull and pulled at the back of her corneas.

Less than a dozen feet away, masked in the dusky light, a father shouted to his children squishing the remnants of a sandcastle. Still laughing from their play, they picked up their things. The deep-throated sound of a nearby motorcycle coated the air as the family strolled out of sight, heading for the parking lot behind her.

One down, one to go. Shiloh closed her eyes, waiting to hear the purr of their vehicle. Almost in sync with the starting engine, the other family that had lingered on this sandy stretch of beach headed for the parking lot.

Sand crunched and rocks popped against the undercarriage of their car as they drove away. Finally, she was alone. Dusting off her legs and backside, she plodded toward the bathroom. She weaved a little, her coordination partially thrown off in the fight for her life, but also caused by stiffness left over from her seizure at the marketplace.

Swarms of thick, foul odors assaulted her as she stepped into the bathroom and switched on the one dangling lightbulb. Though she tried not to take in the smell, she couldn’t avoid it. She coughed and rushed into the first stall. After relieving herself she stood before the badly scratched and dulled mirror,
water trickling over her hands. A smile threatened her dour mood at the sight of the pink and white bindi adorning the middle of her forehead and settling between her eyes. Absently, she traced a finger over the crystal pieces, surprised at the way they felt. Cold. Lifeless. Why did everything remind her of death?

She tossed off the thoughts and washed her hands. After noticing the rusty hue of the water, she opted against sipping it. She would need to find another source of hydration. She could sleep tucked between the retaining wall and rocky beach. Hopefully, the police wouldn’t notice her.

Warm sand squished between her toes and welcomed her into the quiet air and chilly breezes. Once again, she pulled the sari around her shoulders, quickly surveyed the beach, and started back to her hiding place.

With her options limited, she had to find a way to get information on Khalid's condition. Since certain fake cops scouted the hospital and the hostel, she’d have to sneak in through the back tomorrow. If she needed to stay with Khalid until his father arrived in a couple of days, she would find a way. Somehow, she would.

A dolphin lurched out of the water less than twenty meters from shore, arched, and then dove back in. Shiloh walked to the edge of the rippling liquid and slipped off her shoes, letting the cool seawater tease the tips of her toes. She drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out.

God
… The prayer lodged in her throat. Would He care about Khalid, about this insanity gripping her life? Surely He would. Khalid was a Christian. Granted, a new Christian, but he believed in Christ, the Messiah.

Yeshua
. She could hear him speaking the name he preferred to the Anglicized “Jesus,” saying it gave him peace. And she had to admit that peace rose in her even now. She ached for the soft whisper of Khalid's voice. To hear him lecture her
about her relationship with God—or lack thereof. Guilt hung around her heart. She had always rebuffed Khalid. He couldn’t understand. Her life had been marred by cruel and unusual punishment—punishment for her parents’ mistakes. She wasn’t the average American college girl, even though that's what she’d longed for with all that was Shiloh Blake.

She pivoted and started back to the rocky outcropping. As she neared, her heart skipped a beat. Then another.

My pack! The
bag sat on the ledge with a bottle of water.

Stopping cold, she attuned her senses to the surroundings. Shadows flickered across the sandy terrain. Shiloh pushed forward cautiously. Suddenly, the lapping ocean sounded deafening, drowning out everything but itself. Nothing seemed out of place … except for the unexplained appearance of her backpack.

Her mind worked the labyrinth of details. One family had left. A motorcycle went by. Another family left. Even in the bathroom, she’d not heard anything or anyone approach.

She scanned the beach as she closed the last few feet between her and the pack. Was it really hers? Black and tan with a star-fish keychain her mother had given her hanging from the zipper tab. Definitely hers. From her hotel.

Somebody had brought the pack and water. Somebody aware not only of her location and needs but of her identity. Her stomach plummeted.

There! To her immediate right. Metal or glass glinted.

As she stood in front of her pack, she let her hands wrap around the strap and then hoisted it up, testing the weight. The nylon bottom bulged outward. Hopefully, it would be enough if she needed it as a weapon. She shifted one foot back to brace herself against an attack.

“Planning to use that on me?” Amusement radiated through a man's tone.

Shiloh shrank from the deep voice.
No, don’t pull away.

It took several seconds for her eyes to adjust, to spot him. In shock, she saw that he sat right in front of her on the rocks. Dressed head-to-toe in black, he had been camouflaged directly under her nose. Shoulders broad, neck thick … the guy was nobody to mess with. Brownbeard.

Would he toy with her first, then torture, rape, and kill her? Leave her body for the sand spiders and vultures?

“Who are you?” She lifted the pack and held it close. It weighed at least twenty pounds. Had he packed all of her belongings?

“Sit down. Let's talk.”

The undulating sea sparkled under the caress of the moon, forming a silhouette of her figure. Nice. He’d never paid attention before. He wished he hadn’t now.

“I don’t think so.” She drew herself straight, moving the bag away from him.

Her defensive posture didn’t worry Reece. He’d have been disappointed if she wasn’t ready to fight. “You’re alone. Your sponsor and a colleague are dead—murdered.”

“So you speak Marathi and listen to police scanners. Should I be impressed?”

“As of an hour ago, Khalid was still alive.” He tossed the bait and waited.

Gradually, her shoulders lowered as she set the bag back on the rock. “What do you want?”

“To talk.”

“Alone, in the dark, on a deserted beach?” Sarcasm coated her words, but he heard the uncertainty there too.

“I had to be sure of a few things.” He nudged the bottled water toward her with his booted foot. “It's spring water. Untampered.”

“Says you.”

The corners of his lips quirked, but he stopped the smile. “You’re dehydrated and weak.”

“Says you.”

“You’re wasting time, Shiloh.”

She drew in a quick breath.

Reece scooted to the edge of the rock and rested his elbows on his knees. “A lot happened today.” He looked to the sea. “I imagine you want some answers.”

“And you have them?”

“Some.” Tempted to stand, he opted to give her the appearance of control and remained seated. He lifted the water, took a sip, and handed it to her. “If you want to live to see your boyfriend, you might want to start with this.”

She snatched it from his hand, glaring down her straight nose at him. “You know a lot about me. I’m at a disadvantage.”

Nice try.
He wouldn’t let her drag information out of him.

The wind kicked up, tossing long strands of hair off her shoulders. She lifted her jaw as she pushed her gaze to the street. “How do you know who I am?”

“That's not important. That you have a powerful terrorist organization after you is. As you witnessed today, they aren’t afraid to kill.”

With a sidelong glance, she twisted the lid off the water. “That was you on the Indian Coast Guard boat. The hospital. Then on Market Lane.”

He shrugged his acknowledgement and held out the small artifact he’d lifted from her pocket in the sterile environment.

She took the piece without a word and stuffed it into her pack. Cool as a cucumber. All the same, he had seen the wariness and surprise in her eyes moments ago. He had taken her by surprise. Now with the lamp, he had her undivided attention. An ounce of disappointment clung to him at how easily she’d been ensnared by his advantage. Then again, she wasn’t
trained to hide what piqued her curiosity. But it wouldn’t take much to make her a top-notch agent.

Reece controlled his thoughts. That wasn’t why he had intentionally crossed their paths. Her safety was.

“You shaved,” she said.

“You changed clothes.”

“I thought it was fitting.”