Written in Red

  “But the car is still there.”

  “Yes, sir. The car is still there, so now it’s time for us to take a look.” Kowalski pulled up behind the abandoned car and turned on the patrol car’s flashing lights. He looked toward the bushes that provided a privacy screen behind a long stretch of fence. “Ah, sh— Sorry, Lieutenant.”

  Monty looked at what might have been a trail from the car to the fence. “What is it?”

  “Nothing good,” Kowalski replied grimly as he got out of the patrol car.

  Monty got out, testing the ground beneath the snow to make sure he wasn’t going to tumble into a ditch. Reassured, he plowed through the snow next to the indentation that might have been another person’s footprints.

  Caw caw

  He glanced to his right at the handful of birds perched in the nearby trees.

  The chest-high fence didn’t have those decorative spikes to deter someone from scrambling over. The bushes wouldn’t be much of a wall, especially if someone hopped the fence to look for help. Noticing the broken tops of two bushes, Monty reached over the fence and parted them.

  Caw caw

  “Oh, gods, there’s a lot of blood,” Monty said, catching sight of the trampled snow beyond the bushes. “Give me a boost. Someone’s hurt and needs help.”

  “Lieutenant.” Kowalski grabbed Monty’s arm and hauled him back a couple of steps before saying in a low voice, “That’s the Courtyard. Believe me, there is no one wounded on the other side of that fence.”

  Hearing fear beneath the conviction in Kowalski’s voice, Monty looked around. The handful of Crows had swelled to over a dozen, and more were flying toward them. A Hawk perched on top of the streetlight and another soared overhead. And all of them were watching him and Kowalski.

  Then Monty heard the howling.

  “We need to go back to the car now,” Kowalski said.

  Nodding, Monty led the way back to the car. As soon as they were inside, Kowalski locked the doors and started the engine, turning the heater up all the way.

  “I thought the barrier between humans and Others would be more . . . substantial,” Monty said, shaken. “That’s really the Courtyard?”

  “That’s it,” Kowalski said, studying Monty. “You didn’t work near the Courtyard in Toland?”

  Monty shook his head. “Never got near it.” He noticed that Kowalski’s hands hadn’t stopped shaking. “You sure there’s nobody hurt on the other side of that fence?”

  “I’m sure.” Kowalski tipped his head to indicate the open land on the other side of the four-lane avenue. “Once the tow truck arrives, we can check the cairn to find out who went over the fence.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Every Courtyard has its own policy when it comes to dealing with humans. The Wolfgard have been running this one for the past few years, and their rules are clear. Kids who hop the fence to look around on a dare get tossed back over the fence and sat on until we pick them up and arrest them for trespassing. Teenagers will get roughed up, maybe get a bad bite or a broken bone before they’re tossed back over the fence. But any adult who goes in without an invitation doesn’t come back out. And if any human—kid, teen, or adult—hops that fence and is carrying a weapon . . .” Kowalski shook his head. “The Others will leave wallets, keys, and other belongings at the cairn so we know that person isn’t coming back. We fill out a DLU form. You know about those?”

  Monty shook his head.

  “DLU. Deceased, Location Unknown. A family needs one of those to get the death certificates when a body can’t be produced.”

  Monty stared at the bushes and thought about the trampled snow and the blood.

  Kowalski nodded. “Yeah. With a DLU, we all try hard not to think about what happened to the body, because thinking about it doesn’t do anybody any good.”

  How many people in Toland who had been listed as missing were actually DLU? “What’s so special about the cairn?”

  Kowalski checked the trees and streetlight. Monty didn’t think there had been any change in the number of Others watching them, but his partner would have a better sense of that.

  “Two years ago, Daphne Wolfgard and her young son were out running. Right around here, in fact. She was shot and killed by one man. The other man shot at her son but missed. They drove away before the Wolves reached her or had a chance to go after the men. But the Wolves found the spot in the park where the men had waited to take a shot at whatever might get within range. They followed the men’s scent, but lost the trail where a getaway vehicle must have been parked.

  “That spring the Others planted all those junipers to limit the line of sight, and our mayor and Lakeside’s governing body changed the parkland directly across from the Courtyard to a wildlife sanctuary that is off-limits to people, except for guided walks and restricted hunting. Anyone caught in the park at night is arrested and fined. Anyone caught with a weapon at any time goes to jail unless it’s deer season and every person in that party has a permit for bow hunting.

  “Captain Burke pushed hard to find the men who killed Daphne Wolfgard, but it looks like they left Lakeside right after that. Speculation was they weren’t from Lakeside to begin with—just came in for a trophy kill and then disappeared. It’s still an open case.”

  “Why keep it open?”

  Kowalski’s smile was grim. “Did you wonder about the water tax, Lieutenant?”

  “Yes, I wondered.” He’d been shocked when his landlady explained her strict rules about water usage. Other tenants in his building told him about using the water in the rain barrels for washing cars and watering the little kitchen garden. It had struck him as odd that no one wanted to tell him why there was a tax on water when they lived right next to the lake that supplied it.

  “The Others control all the fresh water. Rates for water and the lease for the farmland that supplies most of the food for Lakeside are negotiated with this Courtyard. The year Daphne Wolfgard died, a water tax was added to the standard rates. Nothing was said then, and nothing has been said since, but the captain keeps the case open because what also isn’t said is that if the men responsible for the murder are caught and punished, that tax will go away.”

  Monty drew in a breath. “Is that why you took this assignment? For the hazard pay?”

  Kowalski nodded. “I’m getting married in six months. That extra check each month will help us pay the bills. You take a risk every time you encounter one of the Others, because you never know if they’re going to look at you and see a meal. They’re dangerous, and that’s the truth of it, but a person can deal with them if he’s careful.”

  “The fence is the boundary?” he asked.

  “Nah, their land comes right up to the road. The fence is more a warning than a barricade. In between the road and fence is considered an access corridor for utilities and city workers.”

  “Who are watched,” Monty said, looking at the Hawk who stared right back at him.

  “Always. And they watch a lot more than the Courtyard and the park.” Kowalski checked his mirror. “There’s the tow truck and another patrol car. If that team can stay with the truck, we can leave.”

  As Kowalski opened his door to go talk to the other officers, Monty thought of what would happen after they checked the cairn. “When there’s a DLU, who informs the families?” Please don’t let it be me.

  Kowalski paused with the door open. “There are a special team of investigators and a grief counselor who take care of that.” He closed the door.

  Monty blew out a sigh of relief.

  We are the tenants, not the landlords, a temple priest once said at a weekly gathering. We only borrow the air we breathe and the food we eat and the water we drink.

  That was easy enough to forget in Toland. He suspected the water tax helped everyone in Lakeside remember the tr
uth of it.

  Kowalski returned and drove up to the traffic light, then back around the wide median, pulling up almost directly across from where they had been parked a minute ago.

  Even with all the snow that had fallen yesterday, the pile of stones and the discarded personal effects weren’t hard to find.

  Three wallets with ID and credit cards. Three sets of keys.

  “There’s some cash here,” Kowalski said. “Probably not all the cash that was in the wallets to start with, but the Others never take all of it.”

  Not kids, Monty thought as he looked at the IDs. Young, sure, but old enough to have known better—which wasn’t going to help their families face the loss. “I would have thought young men would carry more in their pockets.”

  “Probably did. The wallets and keys are usually all that’s left here. Jewelry, weapons, trinkets, stuff like that will end up in one of the Others’ stores here, in another Courtyard in the Northeast Region, or somewhere else on the continent. Even the weapons will get sold, although not back to any of us. The Others won’t kill to steal, but once the meat is dead, they make use of everything they can.”

  A sick feeling churned in Monty. “Is that how you think of your own kind? As meat?”

  “No, Lieutenant, I don’t. But the terra indigene do, and I’ve seen the results when humans—police officers or otherwise—forget that.”

  Better not start wondering if you should have used one more bullet after you saw that young Wolf turn back into the girl you rescued. Better not start wondering. Not here. Not now.

  “Let’s get these items back to the station,” Monty said. “Families may be starting to wonder why their boys didn’t come home last night.”

  “Then what?” Kowalski asked.

  “Then I think I should introduce myself to Simon Wolfgard.”

  * * *

  Boxes and packages piled up on two handcarts as delivery trucks arrived in a flurry, their drivers nervously glancing at the Crows perched on the wall outside and visibly relaxing when they noticed the short human behind the counter. They were all quick to point out the name of their company as well as their own name, spelling out both for her as she wrote them down on her pad. Identification. Validation. Some of them had to make two trips to bring in all the deliveries, and Meg wondered whether they had avoided this stop for as many days as possible.

  That first hour, the door opened and closed so often, she decided to look for those fingerless gloves Harry had mentioned and find some kind of insulated vest to wear over the turtleneck and sweater.

  Wanting a little more warmth and to show some progress before Jester returned, she went into the sorting room to work on the mail.

  Sorting mail turned out to be a challenge. Some was addressed to a person, some was addressed to a group, some had a street—maybe it was a street—and some had a designation she didn’t understand at all. The only thing the mail and packages she’d signed for had in common was they all said Lakeside Courtyard.

  “No wonder they have a hard time getting their mail,” she muttered.

  She managed to rough sort the first bag of mail and take two more deliveries before Jester returned.

  “Not bad,” he said as he began shifting a few pieces of mail from one stack to another. “Corvine goes with Crowgard. It’s what they call the complex where most of them live. The Chambers goes with the Sanguinati. The numbers indicate a particular part of the Chambers. The Green Complex is the only residence that isn’t species specific. It’s located closest to the Market Square, and the members of the Business Association live there.”

  “Is there any kind of map or list that would tell me who goes with what?” Meg asked.

  Jester’s face went blank for a moment. Then he said, “I’ll inquire. Now come meet your helpers.” He walked over to the panel in the wall and unlocked the sorting room’s outside door.

  Meg thought about dashing into the back room to grab her coat. Then she saw her helpers and forgot about the coat.

  “This is Thunder, Lightning, Tornado, Earthshaker, and Fog,” Jester said. “They were the only ponies willing to make deliveries today.”

  They were tall enough to look her in the eyes. Meg wasn’t sure if that meant they were typical pony size in terms of height, but what she saw were furry barrels with chubby legs and grumpy faces. Thunder was black, Lightning was white, Tornado and Earthshaker were brown, and Fog was a spotted gray.

  “Hello,” Meg said.

  No change on the grumpy faces.

  “Each of them has delivery baskets,” Jester said, going back to the table for two handfuls of mail. “The baskets have the Courtyard sections written on them—see? So, for instance, the mail going to Corvine or anyone named Crowgard would go in Thunder’s baskets.” He put smaller mail in four compartments of one basket and then added the larger envelopes and catalogs to the basket on the other side. He looked at Thunder. “You go to the Crows today.”

  The pony bobbed his head and moved out of the way.

  Lightning was given the mail for the Wolfgard complex, Tornado went to the Hawks, Earthshaker to the Owls and the Pony Barn, and Fog to the Sanguinati.

  “What happens when they get to the complexes?” Meg asked.

  “Oh, there is always someone about who will empty the baskets and distribute the mail to the individuals,” Jester replied as he closed and locked the outer door. “Hmm. No one to take the mail to the Green Complex or the lake. Guess those will have to wait until tomorrow.” He tipped his head and smiled at her. “Did Simon give you your pass?”

  She shook her head.

  The smile gained a sharp amusement. “Well, he’s been a bit preoccupied today. Basically, once you step out the back door of this office, you need a pass to visit the Market Square or the Green Complex, which is the only residential area that isn’t completely off-limits to human visitors. The pass is something you should always carry with you to avoid misunderstandings.”

  “Where do I get one?”

  “From the consul’s office, which is the other building that uses the same street entrance as this office. I’ll pick that up for you and drop it off.”

  “What do I do with the handcarts in the front room that are full of packages?”

  Jester opened the interior delivery door and pulled the handcarts into the sorting room. “That depends,” he said as he secured the door. “If a package can fit in the basket, a pony can take it with the rest of the mail. Or you can deliver it in the BOW. We haven’t encouraged our previous Liaisons to make deliveries in the Courtyard, but it is loosely within the parameters of your job if you choose to include it.”

  Was making deliveries really part of her job, or was Jester trying to get her into trouble for some reason? “Bow?” she asked.

  “Box on Wheels. A small vehicle we use within the Courtyard. It runs on electricity, so remember to charge your BOW if you don’t want to be stranded. The one for the Liaison is in the garage directly behind the office. Can’t miss it.”

  “I have a car,” Meg said, pleased.

  “You have a Box on Wheels,” Jester corrected. “Not a vehicle you want to take out on the city streets.”

  Leaving the Courtyard wasn’t something she planned to do.

  “Do you want to take a break?” he asked.

  She looked at the clock on the wall and shook her head. “I’m supposed to be available for deliveries until noon, so I’ll keep sorting the mail.”

  “Suit yourself. I’ll get that pass for you.” Jester went out the Private door and vaulted over the counter. He returned a few minutes later. He didn’t have her pass, but he laid something else on the sorting-room table.

  “This is a map of the Courtyard,” Jester said quietly. “It shows the driving roads and where each gard lives.”

  My Controller would have
paid a fortune for this, Meg thought as she studied the map. He would have killed without a second thought to get this much information about the interior of a Courtyard.

  Wolfgard. Crowgard. Hawkgard. Owlgard. Sanguinati. Green Complex. Girls’ Lake. Ash Grove. Utilities Complex. Lakes. Creek. Water reservoir.

  “I suggest you tuck this in a drawer when you’re not using it,” Jester said. “The last two Liaisons weren’t trusted with this at all and, like I said, we didn’t encourage them to explore. You should be careful about who knows you have this, Meg Corbyn.”

  “Does Mr. Wolfgard know I have a map of the Courtyard?”

  “Simon gave it to me to give to you.”

  A test, Meg thought. Simon Wolfgard was giving her a test to see if he could trust her. Which meant she shouldn’t count on the map being accurate. If he thought she was some kind of spy trying to gain access to the Courtyard, providing an enemy with false information was almost as good as providing no information at all.

  Then Jester grinned, an expression that was at odds with his sober tone of a moment ago. “I’ll get you that pass now.” And he was gone again.

  When a half hour went by without a delivery or any sign of Jester, Meg checked out the music disc player. No discs, which was a disappointment, but as she fiddled with the buttons, she found the one that changed the player from discs to radio and connected her with Lakeside’s radio stations. She spent a few minutes turning the dial as she tried to tune in a station that had approved music. Then it struck her. She didn’t need anyone’s permission or approval. She could try a different kind of music every day and decide for herself what she liked.

  Excited, she tuned in a station and got back to work.

  * * *

  “Run and Thump?” Monty asked as he read the sign over one of the terra indigene storefronts.

  “Fitness center,” Kowalski replied. He turned into the parking lot that had a third less space for cars because the slots near the lot’s back wall were taken up by mountains of snow on either side of a wooden door. “Treadmills for running, and the thumpy sound of weight machines. Not sure what they do on the second floor. Not sure why the Others would want such a place when they can run around in more than three hundred acres.”