The Warrior Heir (The Heir Chronicles #1)

The Warrior Heir (The Heir Chronicles #1) Page 11

Linda said nothing. The waitress circled the table, setting their plates before them.

“All he had to do was ask,” Will said. “I would've given him Death Book A, for sure.”

Jack studied his steak sandwich as if it were something unfamiliar and inedible. Fitch picked at his food, and Linda ignored what was on her plate and drank her second beer straight from the bottle. Will was the only one who seemed hungry.

“Do you think he was just trying to scare us off?” Jack asked, conscious of the bruised spot in the middle of his back. “Or would he come after us in here?”

“He won't come in here,” Linda said, picking absently at a broken nail. “He knows we haven't found anything yet. And now he knows all he has to do is follow me.” With that, she shut her mouth, as if she realized she had already said too much.

Jack dropped his silverware onto his plate with a clatter. “So you know who that guy is?” More and more he was asking questions he already knew the answers to.

“Yes,” she said. “I know who he is. I just never expected to meet up with him here.” She looked at Fitch and Will. “If I had, I never would have brought you two along.”

What about me? Am I, like, expendable, then? Jack thought, careening between anger and bewilderment.

Rock music pounded from the speakers as people crowded into the Bluebird Cafe. Someone propped the front door open as the room heated up. Linda's gaze flickered to the open door.

“Is he out there?” Jack asked.

Linda nodded. “Not far away, anyway. The thing is,” she said as if continuing their earlier conversation. “I'm looking for a … a family heirloom. I was hoping to find it this weekend. He must be looking for it, too. Either he traced it to Coal Grove through Susannah's genealogy or he followed me down here. And if he followed me here …” Her voice trailed off. She was looking at Jack. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Will scarfed down the last of his sandwich. “So what was that weapon he used?”

“I don't know,” Linda said. “I… I didn't really see anything.”

She's lying, Jack thought.

“Why don't we just go back home?” Fitch suggested. “He can't hang around here forever. We can always come back another time.”

Linda shook her head. “The fact that he's here may mean it's already too late. We can't take the chance that he might find it before we do.” She looked at each of them in turn. “I'm. going to have to find it this weekend or risk losing everything.”

“Then, what's our next step?” Fitch asked.

“There's no next step for you two boys,” Linda said. “I'm going to take you to the hotel and leave you there until this is over. I … I don't always think things through, I'm afraid.” She looked down at her hands. “It was a mistake to get you involved. I'm not putting you at risk again.”

“What about me?” Jack asked, realizing that once again he'd been intentionally excluded.

She wouldn't look at him. “If I can find it, I'll need your help to retrieve it, Jack. I have some inside information that will help us. Only … I don't know how we'll manage to lose him. And if he sees us together …”

Fitch rested his chin on his hands. “Maybe we can help.”

Linda leaned into the center of the table. “You don't know them,” she whispered. “This is not a game.” Jack had never seen his irreverent aunt look so serious.

“Just listen,” Fitch persisted. “You said this guy would be following you.You're not going to find anything without his knowing it.” Aunt Linda nodded warily. “But he probably didn't get a good look at us at the courthouse,” he went on. “And there's only one of him. I'll bet if he has to make a choice, he'll follow you. I would,” he admitted, blushing a little.

“What are you thinking?”

“What if you lead him away from here while the three of us look for the … thing,” Will said. “If he's following you, we won't be in danger.”

“Well, maybe we should split up now anyway,” Linda said, wavering. “If I take you to the motel, we might be followed. The next place we need to go is the library. That should be safe enough.”

Jack didn't like it. Linda knew the man in the courthouse, and she was frightened of him. “I don't want that guy following you around. I think we should stick together.”

She shrugged. “He'll be following me anyway. There's nothing I can do about that. And if you're with me, you'll be in danger.” It was plain that she didn't consider them much protection against whatever waited outside.

“How important is it that you … win?” Jack asked.

“Winning is everything.” She looked up at him and said again, “Everything.” Something in the way she said it made Jack wonder if this desperate quest had something to do with him.

The plan was hatched over the battered table in the back of the Bluebird Cafe. Aunt Linda handed Jack a wad of bills and a credit card, along with the confirmation number for the hotel reservation. The hotel was back by the highway, and they would have to get there on their own. Linda didn't think it wise for the boys to return to the Land Rover if they wanted to avoid the attention of the stranger outside. Will put Aunt Linda's cell phone and her notebook in the inside pocket of his jacket. She had scrawled some instructions inside. Fitch carried two of the flashlights. When all was set, she called the bartender over. Her voice took on a distinctly local accent.

“You know what,” she said to the bartender in a voice dripping with charm. “My ex-husband's out there waiting in the parking lot, and I'm afraid there might be trouble. He's been following us around all night. I'm scared we might have words, and I don't want my boys getting mixed up in this.”

The bartender nodded sympathetically. He was a huge man with a florid complexion, massive shoulders, and beefy hands. If he thought she had a peculiar-looking family, he didn't say so.

“I wonder if they could just slip out the back,” Linda went on. “Do you have a kitchen door?”

The man nodded again. “No problem. I understand how it is sometimes with exes. I have one myself.” He jerked his head at a door at the back labeled restrooms. “Just go through there and keep heading straight back. There's a door that lets out to the alley.”

“I really appreciate it,” Linda said. “If it's okay with you, I think I'll sit here a bit until I know they're safe away.”

“No problem,” the bartender said solicitously.

Jack and his friends pushed back their chairs.

“Be careful!” Linda called after them. Jack looked back. His aunt seemed small and vulnerable sitting alone at the table.

They pushed through the swinging door at the back of the restaurant and found themselves in a shabby hallway with a linoleum floor and restrooms to either side. There was another door at the far end, under an exit sign.

The door let out into an alley between two huge Dumpsters. The music from the bar seemed distressingly loud when they opened the door. They jerked it shut quickly behind them and lingered between the Dumpsters for a moment. No one appeared. Then, like ghosts, the boys slipped down the alley and into the street beyond.

“Excuse me.”

The night clerk was perched on a stool behind the counter, immersed in a handheld video game. He looked to be in his mid twenties, scrawny, with a generous supply of post-adolescent acne. After briefly surveying Jack and his companions without interest or curiosity, he returned to his game, which played a little tune as he advanced to the next level.

Jack cleared his throat. “Excuse me,” he repeated.

“Mmmm?” This time he didn't lift his eyes from the screen. His name badge said “Stan.”

"We have reservations. Name of O'Herron,” Jack persisted. Finally, Stan ran out of lives and the game came to a sudden and tragic end. Reluctantly, he shut it off and turned his attention to Jack.

“We don't rent to teenagers,” he said abruptly. He took a long drink from a can of Mountain Dew. “You boys better go back home.”

“The reservation's in the name of my aunt,” Jack continued, pushing a credit card and the slip of paper with the confirmation number on it across the counter to Stan. “She'll be here later.”

Why does Aunt Linda have a credit card in the name of O'Herron? Somehow, he hadn't thought to ask her.

Stan eyed the credit card suspiciously. “Well, where's your aunt right now?”

“She, uh, she met someone at a bar in town. She said she was going to stay a while longer, but me and my cousins were … were getting tired.” Jack stifled a yawn. “So she told us to come ahead.” Will and Fitch yawned also.

Stan rocked back on his stool, folding his arms across his chest, the picture of stubbornness. Just then the phone buzzed. Now keeping his full attention on the trio in front of him, Stan picked it up and listened for a moment.

“Well, they're here,” Stan replied to something the caller said, “but I don't think I can let them check in without your being here.” He sounded suddenly less sure of himself.

He listened for a moment, shaking his head as if she were there to see it, then launched a weak protest. “Miss O'Herron, I really think you'd better get over here and check in yourself—” he began, but then stopped, listening again. “Well, I suppose, if you'll be here in a few hours—” He listened some more, swallowing rapidly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. “Well, 'course, whatever I can do to help, honey, you know.” Finally, reluctantly, he hung up the phone, another victim of Aunt Linda's uncanny charm.

“Well, okay, I guess there's no harm in letting you wait for your aunt in your room,” Stan said, suddenly gracious. Jack had a feeling Stan would stay past quitting time, waiting for Linda to arrive. “You all got any luggage?”