Crossroads (Anna Strong Chronicles #7)

Crossroads (Anna Strong Chronicles #7) Page 28

I AM STARTLED BY THE SORROW IN HIS EYES. THAT HE loved Sarah is no longer conjecture. I don't know how long they had been seeing each other, but I hope she returned his feelings. Maybe it will offer some consolation in the dark days ahead.

He pulls out of the lot and I sprint to the Jeep, reverse the course on the GPS and start back.

Why didn't Frey call me when Sarah's parents showed up to tell me about the burial?

And why did Kayani said he figured Frey sent me away?

I don't like the idea of George being alone with John-John. It took me about thirty minutes to make it to the lodge from the house. The only consolation I have is that if Kayani is just now on his way, too, we should arrive together. I should make it in time to accompany Frey.

I catch up to Kayani quickly. I can see him checking out the Jeep in his rearview mirror and when he recognizes me, he signals and pulls over. I do, too.

He strides back to the Jeep. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going back to the house. I want to go with Frey to Sarah's funeral."

He scowls down at me. "It's not a funeral. You are an outsider. Why do you think Frey sent you away?"

I bristle at his tone. "He didn't send me away. I came to the lodge on my. I wanted to give him time alone with John-John."

"Well, you need to give us all time. You cannot be a part of what is to take place. You could cause irreparable harm. To Frey. To Sarah's parents."

"I respect the idea that the Navajo have customs to honor their dead. I can't see how my observing those customs can lead to harm."

Kayani places both hands on the door of the Jeep and leans toward me. "Listen, Ms. Strong. Sarah's parents are very traditional. They will not have mentioned either of their daughter's names since the accident. Do you want to know why? Because they believe after death, the good part of a person goes on while the bad part stays here as a ghost. Mentioning the name of a dead person calls the ghost. Such a simple thing. But were you to offer condolences, for instance, and in doing so, mention the girls' names, you will have violated a taboo. Do you want that on your conscience?"

He is so serious, so vehement in his argument that I back down. He is right. I have no idea of the intricacies of such long-held beliefs. I would only be a burden on Frey and if I did something wrong, cast a bad reflection on him in a delicate time.

"All right. I'll go back to the lodge. But you have to keep an eye on Frey for me. Make sure no harm comes to him."

Kayani's brow furrows at the request. "What harm could come to him? He has studied the Navajo way."

"Just tell me you will. And on George, too."

His puzzled frown deepens. "I don't understand."

"And if you have time for an explanation, I'll give it to you. If not, please honor my request."

He straightens and backs away from the Jeep. "I will." His tone is clipped, formal. "But later, when this day is over, I will come to you for answers."

He waits for my nod of acceptance and leaves me. If George tells him that I'm vampire, he'll no doubt come back armed with Sarah's crossbow and a wooden arrow. A chance I'll have to take.

I watch until the SUV disappears around a bluff, leaving a trail in the muddy red earth. I have two choices.

Forget all I told Kayani and go to the house anyway.

Head back for the lodge and try to locate Chael.

I look around as if divine inspiration might spring from the mighty rain-streaked formations and soaked earth surrounding me. It's Kayani, however, his face, his tone, his willingness to allow parents a chance to grieve in their own way that influences the decision. Another might find such customs archaic. Kayani is a modern cop in an ancient land but he accepts and honors both worlds.

It's a balancing act I understand very well.

It seems the decision has been made. I do a U-turn and head back the way I came. Trying to track Chael down through a psychic connection wasn't very successful. What if I try a simple human way?

Once more in the lobby, I shake rain out of my hair and go directly to the registration desk. A pretty Native American girl greets me with a sunny smile. "Can I help you?"

My turn to put on a perky face. "I hope so. Last night at dinner I thought I saw someone I knew from my college days at UA. He was a foreign student from the Middle East. I know it's probably my imagination, but if it was Chael, I'd love to say hello. It would be such a happy coincidence is we ran into each other here after all those years. Is it possible for you to check and see if he's registered?"

"Of course. What was the name?"

"Chael. I'm sorry but I don't remember if that was his first or last name. It's spelled C-h-a-e-l."

"No problem. The computer can check both."

Her fingers fly over the keyboard with practiced aplomb. After a few moments, she shakes her head. "I'm sorry. No one on file with that first or last name. Could he be registered with someone else?"

Of course he could. "Try Judith Williams from San Diego. I remember they were great friends."

The fingers do their tap dance once again. This time I'm rewarded with a smile. "Yes, Ms. Williams is registered." She picks up a desk phone. "Would you like me to ring the room?"

"That would ruin the surprise," I reply. "I'll just hang out in the lobby for a while and watch for them." I dig in my pocket for some cash and hand her a five. "Thanks so much for your help."

She accepts the bill. "You are very welcome. If I can do anything else-"

I make my smiling escape, hitting the gift shop first to pick up the Arizona Highways magazine before retreating to a strategic spot where I can keep an eye on both the stairs and the elevator. This damn rain may mean they keep to their room. No need to come to the dining room when you don't eat like a human.

Two hours of boredom produce nothing but a sore butt. I relinquish my spot on the couch and pace up and down, stretching leg muscles unused to sitting for such a long period. Reminds me of hours of surveillance with David and that we haven't had to do it in quite some time. Mainly because our new partner has connections to both police departments and bail bondsmen in the Southern California area. Thanks to Tracey, these days jobs find us.

I wonder if I should check in. I've only been gone two days. If David needed me, I'm sure he'd have called. And with Judith Williams here, he's most likely staying out of trouble.

I'm circling back to resume my perch on the couch when a group of four urban-chic bikers arrive in the lobby and make their way to the elevator. They're dressed in form-fitting leathers, talk quietly as if conscious not to attract too much attention, and all have scarves tied loosely around their necks. When one of them, a young woman with long blond hair, slips out of her jacket, her scarf falls to the floor.

She bends to retrieve it.

There are faint bruises just below her right ear, bite marks not quite healed.

I smile as she scrambles to cover them up, looking around to see if anyone noticed.

Oh yeah, chickie.

I noticed.

Chael and Judith sent for takeout.

I toss the magazine onto the stack in the middle of the coffee table and watch them into the elevator. There are only two floors in the lodge. I'm at the stairs and up to the second level before the elevator doors slide open.

The group makes their way down the long hallway. I hang back and watch. They knock at a door near the end. When they've been let inside, I walk down myself and check it out.

Room 230.

It's quiet in the hallway, but too public to risk getting caught with my ear to the door. I move down a few doors and aim vampire hearing into the room. But Chael and Judith are being careful. Nothing comes through. All I get are the soft murmurs of their hosts' voices and the vigorous creak of bedsprings as the people next door in 232 engage in energetic sex.

Well. At least I know where to find Chael. Bursting in now would accomplish nothing except to jeopardize the lives of the hosts.

I glance at my watch. I've been here almost four hours. Would it be safe to return to Sarah's? How long would the burial ceremony last? I should have thought to ask Kayani. I dig my cell phone out of my jacket. I'll call Frey. If he's still with Sarah's parents, I'm sure it will go straight to voice mail.

It does. He's turned it off. I leave a very brief "call me when you can" message and end the call.

A whiff of coppery scent drifts up from beneath the door to 230. Faint but potent as a memory and easily distinguishable to a vampire.

Blood.

It produces a restless surge of adrenaline.

Chael and Judith have started to dine.