Hidden Pearl (23 page)

"I'm coming over."

"Definitely not. We're just finishing up here. I will get back to you. Do not start the job until I give you the okay."

"Storm!" Her voice rose.

"You heard me," he said firmly. "I will call you back." With that, he put down the phone and prayed she'd leave it be. Trust me just this once, he ordered her silently. Then he turned to look at Soul, wondering how much the man had guessed about the call.

"I hate to ask you to leave," S.T. said, "but I have a lot to do if I'm going to get back to Roseburg next week." There was a strained silence.

Assessing the situation, S.T. glanced at Soul's henchmen. Their eyes were emotionless, reflecting neither will nor intelligence. They would do whatever Soul told them and if that meant grabbing S.T. right now, they'd give it a try. S.T. was betting Soul wouldn't go that far. He believed Soul still hoped to earn his cooperation at least somewhat voluntarily. Whatever Soul opted to do, this time he would be collecting some bruises if he attempted violence as his solution.

When the phone rang again, S.T. swallowed his curse. If this was Christine, he'd have a few, choice words for her--later. He picked up the receiver, not taking his gaze from Soul.

"My son, is that you?" It was his mother's voice.

"Yeah, what can I do for you?" S.T. asked.

"I wanted to know what was happening. What you found out."

"I have someone here. This is not a good time to talk."

She said nothing for a long moment. "I hear it in your voice. Something is wrong. What is it?"

"No problem. I'll just have to get back to you."

His mother's breath hissed out. "Aiiii the
chindi
are there. I feel it."

"Don't be foolish," he retorted, his gaze not leaving Soul's probing eyes.

His mother mumbled something in Navajo. He didn't know the words, but recognized the intonations and knew he was not deceiving her.

"I'll have to call you back," he repeated, then hung up the phone.

"I see you are indeed a busy man," Soul said. Rising to his feet, he reached out his hand for S.T.’s. If he'd thought it possible, S.T. would have refused, but he had no way without making an issue of it.

Meeting the cold flesh, the fingers that closed around his, S.T. felt as though his warmth was being sucked away. He broke it as soon as he could.

Soul walked to the door, his men only a few steps behind him. "Until next week," he said, then they were gone.

S.T. locked the door, then leaned against its hard surface. He swallowed against the feeling of nausea with which being in the same room with Soul had left him. What was the man? Not the
chindi
his mother believed in, but something.... Something S.T. couldn't define or explain but that left an icy feeling in his stomach.

"I don't see why you had to go with me," S.T. complained, turning the Silverado in the driveway of Katy Brown's palatial home. At least Jim had probably been right about her not needing any financial help.

"You've argued with me all the way," Christine said, glancing at his tense profile. "I wanted to go, wasn't that enough reason?"

"Woman, you're getting too deeply entangled in this."

"Maybe I'll see something you miss." She smiled sweetly at him, not surprised to see his dark eyes flash angrily at her.

"You read blueprints, do you?"

"Sarcasm doesn't help anything, Storm Walker."

"You trying to suck off my power?"

"Of course. I want it all for myself,” she said, as he stopped the Silverado and turned off the ignition.

Katy Brown, a striking young woman with coal black hair and porcelain skin, waited for them at the door. As S.T. introduced them, Christine watched her force a polite smile as she ushered them into the living room.

Christine saw S.T.'s mouth tighten when he looked down at the coffee table and saw the trouble Katy had gone to, the cookies on a plate, cookies still wafting a freshly baked fragrance.

"Can I get you coffee or tea?" Katy asked, only sitting when she'd been assured they didn't want anything. In the light, Christine saw the dark circles, red-rimmed eyes, and her heart went out to her.

"I'm sorry about
everything
," S.T. said.

"Everyone is, but it's no one's fault, except the ones who murdered Lane. And yes, I do not believe he killed himself. If he had wanted to get away from me, there were easier ways." She swallowed hard.

“I will do what I can to try and get to the bottom of it,” S.T. said reluctantly. He had been dragged into it but he now did feel that determination to take the investigation as far as he could. Seeing Katy Brown just enhanced that goal.

"I haven’t known how to do anything about it and am so grateful you said you would come and look at Lane's drawings. I've tried to see if there's something, some hint of what the problem was, but I... don't know much about things like that."

"The drawings are a starting point for me at least."

"I have to find something that will convince the police to reopen the investigation." She impatiently brushed her hair behind her ear.

"Have the toxicology results returned?" S.T. asked.

She nodded. "Nothing showed up... Of course, that does nothing to convince the authorities they have been wrong to believe he killed himself, but I know he didn't. I will prove it somehow for the sake of my girls, his daughters."

"Your little ones are quieter than any I’ve been around recently," Christine said, hoping to give S.T.  time to gather himself

"Actually they’ve been spending a few weeks with my parents in Seattle. I couldn't be there for them right now, not as they needed. I had to get myself together and haven’t been doing a very good job of it." She wiped away tears.

"You know," Christine said, "I think I'd like some coffee after all." She looked pointedly at S.T. "Maybe Katy and I could drink it in the kitchen and let you look through the papers without a disturbance." S.T. sent her a grateful look before Katy showed him the den where Lane's papers were.

A few moments later Christine sat with Katy at the kitchen bar, sipping coffee.

"What do you do?" Katy asked.

"I'm a photographer. I've been up here on an assignment."

"That sounds interesting..." Her voice dwindled off.

Christine reached out her hand and put it over Katy's. "You don't have to pretend for me," she said. "I know how it can be trying to keep up your spirits for everyone else, to keep them from worrying, but with me, it’s okay to just let it out. You need to."

Tears rolled down Katy's cheeks. "How did you know?"

"I've seen my mother do the same thing. When my grandmother died, Mom went around seeing that everyone else ate, that no one grieved, eventually it wore her down and she got sick. It's important now that you don't bury your feelings."

Katy managed a worn smile. "I want to bury everything... in the ground beside Lane. When he died, I lost all that mattered."

"Except," Christine shook her head, "You have your children to consider."

"I know. I’ll pull it together but right now I feel everything inside of me is dead. It’s not just that he died. It would be if he purposely did it."

“But you don’t believe he did. Your instincts are crying out that it is an injustice to him.”

“They are. It’s… probably not wanting to face that possibility.”

“I don’t think so. I only just met you but you don’t strike me as a woman who fools herself. You are a woman who will fight like a tigress for her own though, aren’t you?”

Katy cried for a few minutes, then said, “I have had a life which hasn’t made me fight for much. It all came so easily, even Lane. Now I suddenly do have to fight and I only hope I can. I don’t know where to turn though. The police, they really don’t see how he could have been murdered. No clues to lead them that way.”

“I hope you can find peace with this… however it turns out.”

“I had it all and lost it in a span of two days.”

“I wish I had words to help now. They say time heals all wounds.”

“And I say bullshit. Pardon my French,” Katy said with a little laugh.

Christine managed a laugh too. She hadn’t experienced anything like Katy was going through which made her feel inadequate to help with it. She was beginning to wonder if she would though if she kept going with Storm Walker. Maybe the time to get out was now.

“You know,” Katy interrupted her thoughts, “I thought we were immune to something like this. I mean, Lane was an architect. What’s dangerous about being an architect?” She looked at Christine, tears again filling her eyes. “We went to church, did all the right things. Why did this happen to us?”

"I wish I had answers. Life is full of things like that."

Katy shook her head. “I just don’t know how to go on. It’s as though half of me was torn away and I’m never going to get it back. I sleep alone at night. I have to answer my children when they ask where daddy is.” She gave a little sob. “He’ll never see his children grow up, never make love to me again. I’ll never hear his step coming down that hall.”

“I don’t know you very well,” Christine said, “and I certainly can’t give you cheap answers. No one can take away the pain and no one can tell you why. I wish there were such answers."

"I am glad you said that..." Katy's voice broke again. "I hate cheap answers and they always come from those who can’t begin to imagine how you might feel if your husband preferred to hang himself than to come home to be with you and his children."

Christine shook her head. "Don’t give in to that. S.T. is determined to follow this where it goes. I… well I’ll do what I can also. I have met Peter Soul.” She managed to not shudder. “Really there is every possibility that there will eventually be proof that Lane didn’t kill himself. You’d still have lost the man but you’d get back the knowledge of his love. Would that help?”

Katy nodded. “Are you... that is are you in love with S.T.?"

"Hard question. I am not sure. But I am in something." She managed a smile

"Well, if you’re smart you won’t fall in love with him.” Katy tightened her mouth.

“Why?”

“Forget I said that.” Katy managed a small laugh. “I’m a fool. I am not sorry I loved Lane and had him for as long as I did.”

“To be honest, I haven’t wanted to fall in love with anybody. For a career woman, especially with a job like mine that requires a lot of travel, a relationship only gets in the way. I’ve seen so many women who give up themselves for a man. I never understood how someone could do that... and yet, here I am following this man over hill and dale, calling my editor to make excuses for why I’m not flying back already.” She shook her head.

“I don’t know S.T. very well. We have only seen each other in a few social settings, briefly through Lane’s work and his being the same. He’s a striking man; so I did notice him.”

“I fear feeling too much for him. Maybe you understand that. He’s so full of energy and power. He could suck a woman right into him until she had no identity.”

“I think that is a problem for women in relationships anyway,” Katy said, dabbing at her eyes again with a Kleenex.

“He might want more than I can give. More than I want to give.”