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“I bet you’re glad to be out of there,” I said. Though I tried not to show it, I felt dead man’s hands crawling up my back just listening to him.

  “No kidding. I work at a desk now. No more creepy warehouses. I monitor stuff on a TV, nice building. I have a phone and everything, but they don’t let me order pizza. I’m not supposed to let people in the building at night.” If encouraged, he would probably talk about his new job all day, or at least until time for his next shift.

  “Thanks for your time,” Chance murmured. “We appreciate your assistance.”

  “So you’re trying to find the lady that disappeared, right?” Lenny’s voice gained enthusiasm. “I peeked in her purse before I called the cops, but I didn’t take anything, I swear. Don’t tell, okay? So are you guys private eyes? I bet she was kidnapped. Did you get a ransom demand? I could help, be your bag man or something.” His words came out in a single breath, mashed together like a peanut butter and Marshmallow Fluff sandwich.

  “No, we’re not and we haven’t. You already helped plenty.” I put down my watery Diet Coke without finishing it and stood. I expected Lenny to produce further useful information like I expected to get milk from a tomcat, but it shouldn’t do any harm to leave my cell number. I scrawled it on a page torn from my pocket calendar and handed it to him. “If you think of anything else, give me a call. We’ll get out of your way now. Thanks a lot.”

  “Sure, anytime. I’ll keep an ear open for news about that Korean lady. I’ll call you if I hear anything.” Lenny got to his feet as well. His mama had apparently instilled the rudiments of good manners in him.

  Once outside, I asked Chance, “You think they were using the warehouse for rituals at night?”

  “Seems like a given,” he said grimly. “They probably thought he was too stupid to notice any residual effects.”

  I climbed in the Camry, considering our next move. “It has to be driving you crazy, wondering how your mom got mixed up in all this.”

  “Not as much as worrying if she’s safe, but yeah. It’s hard realizing I don’t know her half as well as I thought I did.” He started the car and followed the gravel drive out of the trailer park back to the access road that adjoined the freeway. “She had this whole other life before she moved to Tampa and she didn’t talk about it at all. When I think back, she had a way of avoiding questions. If I brought something up, instead of answering, she’d ask if I did my homework or if I’d remembered to take the trash out.”

  “Maybe she was trying to protect you.”

  He flicked me a hard look. “I’d rather know what’s coming.”

  Ouch.

  “Sometimes it’s easier not to deal with things head-on. Sometimes it’s better to step aside quietly.”

  “Better for whom?”

  I quit trying to pretend we were still talking about his mother. “Me. You think I could’ve walked away if I had to look into your eyes and say good-bye?”

  “I don’t know. Could you?”

  “No.” The answer came simple and unadorned. “But don’t you understand why I had to go?”

  The silence built, broken only by the vibration of the engine and the roar of the tires on the road. By the exit he took, we must be heading for the police station.

  Chance sounded as if the words were dragged out of him with hooks and wires. “You blamed me for what happened in Tuscaloosa. You thought I didn’t love you. You thought your safety didn’t matter to me, just the money.”

  I didn’t know what I thought anymore. Certainly I believed those things at the time or I wouldn’t have left.

  “You took a job that put us up against Clayton Mann,” I said deliberately. “Just what did you expect to happen? When you threaten someone who burns down buildings for a living and rapes women for fun—”

  His jaw clenched. “I thought I could protect you. Do you think I don’t turn that night over in my head, time and again? Wondering how I could have changed things? You were right behind me, Corine. I went first to make sure it was safe. How the hell could I know the floor would crumble beneath you and leave me standing while you fell?”

  Well, that’s your luck. Even when he didn’t try to use it, good fortune sat on him like a shining, silver crown. Bad things took one look at him and ricocheted to the nearest warm body. So of course I fell, not him.

  Three stories through burning, rotted timber, old plaster, and asbestos.

  Remembering that night, a wave of pain and horror stirred, and I fought it down. His luck was a Sword of Damocles, if ever there was one, a gift I’d come to see as a curse. See, unlike me, he couldn’t focus and shut it off, not entirely. It ran through his life in a subsonic hum, striking random notes that called pure chaos. Maybe that doesn’t sound like a bad thing... at first. It would keep things interesting, right?

  Well, try living with him. If we went to a store, it was robbed. If we went to a restaurant, he’d win the millionth customer prize and a free steak dinner or save somebody from choking. Coincidences crawled on him thick as bluebottle flies on a dung heap.

  “You couldn’t,” I said finally, doubt threading my words. “But we were in that situation because of you, and I didn’t want to live like that anymore.”

  “So you left,” he said bitterly. “Thinking all I cared about was getting rich off your gift. But it was never the money. Yeah, the guy who hired us to bring Mann down had an ax to grind. The son of a bitch raped and murdered his daughter! In her old pictures, Kelly looked like you, Corine. She looked like you. And all I could think about was getting that sick fuck off the streets before he noticed you.”

  Chance paused, his fingers turned white on the steering wheel. I stared at his profile, dumbstruck. He’d never said a word, not once. I couldn’t even remember what Kelly Armitage had looked like before Clayton Mann got through with her. It took him six months inside before he started giving up the bodies. But for a moment, I pictured Chance staring at her pictures and seeing me. Was he afraid of losing me, even then?

  We’d been living in Tuscaloosa a few months. People knew who we were, but they didn’t bother us, except to offer work. Kelly’s dad did just that. He had no proof except a father’s surety and a gas station clerk’s description of a woman who sounded like Kelly getting into Mann’s car. But he had a bloody scarf, and that would tell us everything we needed to know.

  In the end, that stained scrap of cloth led us right to Mann’s lair, a condemned building where he liked to take his girls.

  I hadn’t wanted the job. Thought it would be too dangerous, based off Mann’s lengthy rap sheet. He’d done time before, arson and assault, and if he went down a third time, he might as well forget about parole. But Chance talked me into it.

  And that was the beginning of the end.

  “I wanted to help people, but not if it meant hurting you, love. Goddamn, I would’ve done anything for you, and you walked away thinking I saw you as nothing but a...” He paused. “A show pony. Isn’t that what you said?”

  How I wished I could believe him. “If that’s true, why didn’t you come looking for me until you needed me again?”

  I hadn’t realized until this moment how much that hurt. I spent half my trip across the country looking over my shoulder, expecting Chance to show up demanding an explanation. By the time I reached Mexico City, I realized he never would.

  “You almost died because of me. I understood why you wanted out. What right did I have to keep you if you wanted to go?”

  “Is it a question of rights?” I clenched my hands into fists, fighting the urge to yell. “You could’ve said something. Anything. But communication was never our strong suit.”

  His voice came as a silver thread of sound, salted with anguish. “Maybe I felt like I deserved to lose you.”

  I exhaled unsteadily as I realized we’d turned into the parking lot at the station. For a moment I let myself look at him, really look—probably what Eva would term eating him with my eyes. I’d missed everything about him, but time passed and some
times broken things heal crooked. The pieces didn’t fit anymore.

  “I don’t believe in that, people getting what they deserve. That implies the world is fair and it never has been. You made a choice, Chance, just as I did. You chose to let me go. If you did it to punish yourself, then take off your crown of thorns. What’s done is done, and I don’t blame you for anything. If we were meant to be together, we still would be.” I opened the car door and got out. “Let’s go see Officer Saldana.”

  Expect the Unexpected

  Jesse was on the phone when we came into his office. Once again, mess cluttered his partner’s desk but the guy was nowhere in sight. I fought the urge to collect the trash and dispose of it on principle. I’m not a neat freak, but there’s something wrong about letting food decompose outside of a compost heap. To amuse myself I counted fast food wrappers and dirty cups.

  He motioned us to wait a minute by holding up his index finger. “Yes, it’s chicken blood in the warehouse.” I already knew that. “Did you contact—Oh, right. Yes, sir. I’ll try to keep the press from claiming we have a satanic cult operating in town, but I really don’t have any—Yes, I agree. The last thing we need is religious zealots picketing the parking lot. I’m sure it was just kids messing around.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that, but I didn’t think his captain would appreciate any of my theories. Plus, apart from Jesse, I did my best to avoid law enforcement. Like cats always climb on the one person who’s allergic to them, cops always come sniffing around me, sure I’ve been up to something. Once they stopped me in Cut Shin, Kentucky, for driving too slow.

  After hanging up, Saldana sighed. “I have a feeling this is going to get worse before it gets better.” As he produced the purse, he added, “Glad you guys are on time. I need to get this back before shift change.”

  I expected there to be some tension, but both guys seemed focused on my reading. Bracing myself, I picked up the purse, but to my surprise it felt inert. No charge, no searing pain. I opened it, checked inside. When my fingers brushed across a stud holding the strap to the handbag, I received a small shock, not unlike what I got when I touched Saldana.

  Somehow inside the current, I heard a breathy whisper that sounded as if it might be Yi Min-chin: “The zona.”

  And that was all.

  They regarded me with puzzlement. I guessed the show turned out to be something of a letdown. “You can take it back. I’m done.”

  Since he’d seen me handle the night before, Jesse looked at my fingers and then the palm of my hand. “It didn’t work?”

  “Some things just don’t hold a charge. Metal has the best resonance for capturing and keeping images. Textiles fade much faster.”

  This was a synthetic handbag, vinyl disguised as leather. I didn’t know whether she’d done this on purpose or if this qualified as a failure on my part. It had never worked like this before.

  “Have either of you ever been to the zona?” I asked.

  Chance looked blank but Saldana arched a brow. “Are you looking for a prostitute?”

  I thought of Señor Alvarez, running my shop. How much would he skim, if anything? Would he withhold sales? “I doubt I can afford one.”

  “What’s the zona?” Chance asked.

  “People in the States usually call it Boys Town. It’s a walled compound in Nuevo Laredo where people go looking to party and buy whores. It’s legal there,” Jesse added, evidently seeing Chance’s confusion.

  “Yep.” I spoke to fill the silence. “They spring up around the border towns.”

  “I haven’t been there since I was eighteen. I guess every guy in Texas checks it out once. If you decide to go for reasons I probably don’t want to know, keep a tight hold on your wallets, watch for pickpockets, and stay away from Tranny Alley. The places don’t get busy until ten and the party runs till six in the morning. You’ll find most people out after dark, if you have questions, but bring bribe money if you expect answers.”

  Was Chance’s mom a former hooker? Why else would she nudge us in this direction? Maybe she got out of the life when she got pregnant with him. Well, the purse seemed to be a dead end otherwise, and I didn’t know what to make of this.

  “I’ll let you get back to work now.” I saw about a hundred questions in Jesse’s eyes, but I didn’t care to answer them. “I’ll call you, okay?”

  Heading for the door, I didn’t see if Chance followed me, but he caught up with me before I left the police station. “Don’t keep stuff from me, Corine. What does the zona have to do with anything?”

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I just heard the words when I touched the inside of the purse. It sounded like your mom’s voice.”

  He frowned as we pushed open the door and stepped out into a blindingly bright November afternoon. “But there was no accompanying image?”

  “No. It’s strange.”

  Chance knew how backward that was. If an item accepted a charge, it captured whatever its last handler experienced, much like a silent film, but it took a specialized gift in order to unlock it. This sounded like his mother had used the bag to record her words. I didn’t know how that was even possible, but if she could do it, why didn’t she say more?

  Offering a tired smile, he said, “I know you’re worried about my feelings, but I don’t think anything could surprise me now. My mother knows how to summon demons and she’s apparently connected to Boys Town as well. So what’s our next move?” He paused outside the Camry, managing to look cool as a Long Island iced tea even as sweat trickled down the small of my back.

  I was glad he’d decided to let the relationship stuff go.

  “You’re asking me?” I projected astonishment. “Then I want some lunch.”

  To my surprise, he didn’t argue, just got in the car. “Mexican or Italian?”

  Why did I smile because he offered the choice between my two favorites? On his own he’d go Japanese; he loved sushi and I couldn’t stand the stuff, except for California rolls. Chance said those didn’t count, though.

  The hot seat made me hiss as I wiggled around. “Depends. Are we talking about Olive Garden Italian or good Italian?”

  “I liked Johnny Carino’s when I ate there with my mom, but it is a chain, not a dive with red checkered tablecloths.”

  I happen to harbor a soft spot for dives and the folks who operate them.

  “Something more authentic then. Surprise me.”

  When he pulled up outside a brown brick building on McPherson Avenue, I gaped at the wagon wheels outside the Cotulla Style Pit Bar-B-Q. “Home of the world-famous mariachis, huh? Too bad it’s not Saturday night.”

  “We could come back.”

  I gave him a look as we pushed into the dim, cool interior. There was a definite cowboy theme going on, a cheerful blend of Western and Mexican decor. The place smelled deliciously of barbeque and most of the tables were full, always a good sign.

  A hostess sat us down with two menus, and I decided on the mixed parrillada with nopales and beans. He went with chicken chalupas. Chance also ordered us a pitcher of sangria, which earned him points. If he wanted them. Did he? I put that complication aside as the waitress departed.

  “We need to figure out the connections here. Once we do that, I think we’ll have a good idea where to find your mom.” Easier said than done. “This may seem like a stupid question, but did you make sure Clayton Mann and Kel Ferguson are still locked up? Even so, they might have someone acting for them on the outside.”

  Those two topped the list of people who wanted to hurt Chance and me, bad. Ferguson was a stone-cold killer for Jesus. He claimed angels told him that people he hunted would unleash the end times, and God didn’t intend to wrap things up yet. He wouldn’t say a word about what that had to do with the child he’d stolen, however. Even while he stood in the courtroom facing his sentence, he claimed divine inspiration.

  Over and over, he’d said, “God will deliver me. No earthly bars can hold me.”

  No matter how t
he prosecution questioned him, he never wavered from his story. Until they took him off the stand in disgust, and there were whispers of an insanity plea.

  Sometimes I still dreamed about his eyes, as if he could somehow track my every move. He wasn’t easily forgotten. I’d finally managed to shake the feeling that he lurked around every corner, though. Mostly. Except on really dark nights.

  In his egocentrism, Clayton Mann didn’t see why anyone should get to tell him no. Rape wasn’t a crime to him; it was him teaching the woman that she wanted him. And he’d very nearly been the end of me.

  As far as I knew, they were both in prison.

  If they aren’t...

  Chance paled, both hands wrapping around his glass, and for a minute I thought he might be sick. Then he knocked back his drink as if it were whiskey. “I should’ve found out first thing. It never occurred to me they might strike at me through my mom. Oh, Christ.”

  The waitress brought our food and I paused long enough to let her settle the plates. “That doesn’t feel right. They’re both... more direct. And I doubt they know anything about rituals. I just brought it up because we need to cover all angles. How does that go? Eliminate the impossible and whatever remains, however improbable, is the truth?”

  I saw the tension ease out of him. “You’ve been reading Sherlock Holmes again. After you left, Corine... I bought a first edition of The Deep Blue Good-by because I forgot you weren’t coming back. It’s still on the bedside table at home.”

  As a mass market paperback, it wouldn’t be valuable. He’d probably found it in a second-hand shop somewhere, but it meant everything that he remembered my passion for Travis McGee, a hero who ranted about the destruction of the Everglades before people practiced environmentalism. I loved John D. MacDonald. All those times I rambled about one of his colorfully titled novels, I thought Chance tuned me out. But he’d listened and remembered. If I was wrong about that—

  Through the front windows, I watched the Camry explode in the parking lot.

  Odds and Ends