Because I'm Watching

  Groans.

  Moen hooted. “Crazy Cordelia?”

  “I know,” Kateri said. “She’s odd. But I’d like to point out that the last time she reported threatening texts to law enforcement, somebody did die.”

  More chatter. “That was because—”

  “As weird as that was—”

  “Coldhearted and warped!”

  Bergen’s voice cut through the babble. “Sheriff, I assume you saw the texts. What makes you believe them?”

  Kateri lifted the paper Cordelia had given her and read, “The first night, she was cautious, checking every entrance. She doesn’t realize I’m already in place. Then, I let her catch sight of me. She knows what’s going to happen to her now. Then, Now I’ve got her. The electronics are set up. She’ll never escape again.”

  The talk in the room died. The guys exchanged intense Oh, shit glances that meant they heard the underlying menace in the words.

  Kateri waved the paper. “There’s more. I’d love to hear another theory about what this stuff means. But no matter what, I don’t think it’s good, and it’s all creepy.”

  “Can you send us a scan?” Bergen asked.

  “I could. But if I did, someone outside of law enforcement would see it. Our little newspaper would report it. Then we’d lose whoever’s doing this. The girl, whoever she is, will be hurt, moved, or murdered.”

  The silence in the room was tomblike, the atmosphere wary.

  Kateri continued, “I don’t have to tell you this needs to be quiet and kept in the department. But I need you to look. Really look.”

  Heads nodded.

  Bergen asked, “In town? Out of town?”

  Kateri showed her empty hands. “Cordelia doesn’t know. She only knows it’s in our area of responsibility. Have any of you seen anything that, looking back, made you wonder?”

  Heads shook.

  “Isn’t what Cordelia’s doing illegal?” Moen asked.

  “Yes, but I’m not arresting her,” Kateri said, “and neither are you.”

  “I don’t like being spied on by Crazy Cordelia,” Officer Eli Weaver said.

  Then stop cheating on your wife and you won’t have anything to hide. Kateri didn’t say that out loud. She simply thought it forcefully.

  Bergen stood. “Sheriff Kwinault brought us something that needs investigation. Now that we know something is out there, we can watch for suspicious behavior. C’mon, guys, let’s go.”

  Kateri was glad he’d stepped up, glad the guys respected him enough to accept his judgment on her judgment. Because today she didn’t think she had it in her to enforce her authority. Wearily she got to her feet and groped for her walking stick.

  “Where are you going?” Chippen asked.

  “I’ve been on duty for about sixty hours, and I’m going home to bed.”

  Moen grinned. “I’ll come and tuck you in.”

  She stopped. She turned on him. “Tell me you never say stuff like that to other women, because this sheriff’s department doesn’t need a sexual harassment suit.”

  “I don’t. It’s just you, and everyone knows you’re not—” He stopped.

  She looked at him.

  He stepped back. He flushed, his fair skin turning the same color as his orange freckles and carroty hair.

  The officers backed up, clumped together into a protective little group.

  She looked them over, snorted derisively, and walked out, through the courthouse, out the front door, and down the street toward her apartment six blocks away.

  Five minutes ago, she had been dragging. Now she was so mad she could walk to Japan.

  Damn them. Damn them all! Did they really think she was no longer quite a woman? Sure, she had more artificial parts than a Barbie doll. And no, she couldn’t have children. And yes, if she ever got the chance to have sex again, she hoped to hell she didn’t pop an artificial joint out of place. But goddamn it, she was thirty-four years old, and that was too young to be declared a nonplayer.

  Behind her, she heard running footsteps.

  Bergen swung into place beside her. “Sheriff Kwinault, can I talk to you?”

  “Yes. You can talk.” Truth to tell, she thought he would be a good sheriff. She would vote for him except she’d be better. Let’s face it: she had way more real-life experience than any one person needed—or wanted.

  She’d grown up on the reservation, run wild with the other Native American kids, gone to school in Virtue Falls, discovered what prejudice was here … She’d seen the bigger world, too, faced prejudice on so many levels she had faced only one choice: grow strong or crumple.

  She had grown strong. She’d worked and studied, been accepted to the Coast Guard Academy, been assigned to various U.S. facilities and finally brought back to Virtue Falls as commander.

  God, that had been a great job—until the earthquake.

  She didn’t remember a time when she didn’t know the legend of a monster frog god that crouched off the coast. The elders said that when it woke and hopped up to taste the sun, the earth broke apart. On that day of the frog god’s leap, the ocean would rise to eat the land.

  One summer day four years ago the frog god had jumped. The ocean rose. Kateri saved her men and two of the Coast Guard cutters.

  And she had died. She had descended to the depths. She had seen him, the frog god, green and merciless. He had taken her in his claws and devoured her, made her a part of himself … given her gifts she didn’t want. Then he brought her back to life and flung her toward the shore.

  Months of surgeries, pain, and rehabilitation had followed, as well as a court-martial for the loss of the cutter. She had had to accept a medical discharge. She had learned to sit in a wheelchair, to accept the help of others. She, who had been the epitome of strength and beauty, had had to wait and ask and brood about the inequity of life. Finally she fought—to stand on her feet, to earn a living, to live alone and unaided.

  She had secured a job as the Virtue Falls librarian for less than minimum wage. In the end, she liked the librarian gig—she learned to deal with situations as serious, scary, funny, and diverse as wife beatings, overdue books, and poopie diaper leaks. She had changed from a woman who had believed she controlled her own destiny to a woman who seized opportunity. That opportunity was the job of sheriff. She wanted it. She would be good at it. Hell, she was good at it. Plus it paid considerably better than town librarian.

  She said to Bergen, her fellow officer and opponent, “Thank you for supporting me back there.”

  “That’s what I want to talk about. You know a few of the guys joke about you being all woo-woo.”

  She came to a halt. The air around her chilled. “They joke? Do they?”

  “After you walked out, they speculated on whether or not you had had a vision and that was why we were off on a wild goose chase.”

  She turned on him like a windup toy soldier. “They believe I would waste law enforcement resources on a wild goose chase?”

  “It has occurred to me, too. So I guess my question is—are we doing this because logically you think that someone out there needs help, or because you have a gut feeling?”

  Maybe he was oblivious to her irritation. Or maybe he was merely dogged in his pursuit of the truth. Or maybe … he was subtly undermining her. “Does your continued support depend on my answer?”

  “No. You’re in charge.”

  She could almost hear him think, For the moment. Her humiliation at being labeled asexual and her rage at having her motivation questioned made her temper slip and her judgment fail.

  Sometimes the frog god’s gifts made revenge all too easy.

  She wrapped her fingers around Bergen’s wrist, called on the frog god … and for the merest second, the earth shook.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Bergen’s eyes grew wide. He tore his wrist out of her grasp and he jumped, literally jumped, away from her.

  “Woo-woo.” She made another one of those toy soldier turns and marched awa
y. Or she would have marched, except her knees were giving out and she had to lean heavily on her walking stick. She could feel Bergen staring at her back.

  She’d only ever done that trick with one other person, and he’d ended up in an asylum being treated for insanity. Not that he hadn’t deserved it. But Bergen did not. His question was—probably—well meant. A warning of the challenges she faced.

  Now she would have to wait to see what he would do.

  Two blocks down the street, Coast Guard Lieutenant Commander Luis Sanchez swung into place beside her. “Hi, Kateri. You cause that tremor?”

  She lifted her free hand and looked heavenward.

  “What?” he asked.

  Luis was handsome, smart, an up-and-coming officer in the Coast Guard. He was also the guy who had wanted to sleep with her even after she’d been broken and put back together.

  First she had rejected him. Then she’d changed her mind. By then it was too late. He was involved with another woman, the young, sweet, ambitious, and talented businesswoman Sienna Monahan. Proof positive a woman couldn’t leave a good-looking guy alone for a single minute.

  Now here he was, strolling along beside her not ten minutes after Moen had insulted her.

  “So did you? Cause that tremor?” He caught Kateri’s elbow and turned her to face him. “Never mind. I can see you did. Your hair is glossy, your skin is glowing, and your walk is jaunty. You don’t feel a bit of pain, do you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re better than fine. You’re a glorious Indian maiden.”

  That stung. “Native American and I’m not a maiden, thank you very much. I used to have a perfectly adequate sex life.”

  “Chica, if your sex life could be described as perfectly adequate—it wasn’t.”

  She laughed and relaxed. She needed to remember that Luis was not Moen; even after the tsunami, Luis had pursued her. “Who knows? Maybe after being eaten by the frog god and reborn, I am a virgin again.”

  “You think?” Luis looked alarmed.

  She laughed harder. “Anything is possible. Every time I make the earth move, more of me is mended.”

  “Then why don’t you make it move all the time?”

  She slowed and tried to articulate what she sensed. “A part of me is the frog god. A part of the frog god is me. Whenever I invoke him, whenever I bring him up from the depths, he owns a little more of me. He is a powerful deity and if I’m not careful I fear he could own … all of me.” She looked straight at Luis.

  He crossed himself and she knew that in her eyes he glimpsed the cold, green soul of the god.

  “Anyway, that’s why. So what are you doing? Walking me home?” She was kidding.

  But he agreed. “Yes, but I didn’t think you’d want me to hang around outside the courthouse so I sat in the park until I saw you come out and then I went the long way around to join you.”

  “Because you didn’t want to be seen with me?” Moen had really gotten to her; she needed to knock off the sensitivity.

  “Because I figured you didn’t want to be seen with me. You’re the one who’s running for office. I didn’t think having a boyfriend hanging around would be good for your tough sheriff image.”

  “You’re my boyfriend?”

  “I could be.”

  “No, you couldn’t. You’re living with Sienna.”

  “Not anymore, I’m not.”

  Oh, ho. No wonder Luis had put in an appearance, swaggering and cocky. “Look. If you need a shoulder to cry on, that’s fine, but I don’t appreciate you using me on the rebound.”

  “I’m not on the rebound. This has been coming on for quite a while, and I moved out a month ago.”

  Kateri stared at Luis. “What happened? She’s gorgeous.”

  “She’s also controlling. She schemes. She’s got grand plans for what she wants to do in Virtue Falls and when I say I’m in the Coast Guard and I’ll get transferred and we can’t stay together, she says I should quit.”

  “But you’ve worked hard to take a command!”

  “She doesn’t care. She doesn’t consider the Coast Guard to be a real branch of the military. She’s…” He shook his head. “I don’t know how else to say it. She wants me on her terms, and if I stick with her, she’ll win. By any means, but she will win.”

  Kateri turned and started walking again. “Wow. I never saw sweet little Sienna in quite those terms.”

  Again Luis fell in beside her. “Since I left her, I feel like I can stand straight again, think straight again. I thought of you and how I’d like us to have a second chance.”

  Kateri opened her mouth with every intention of saying something wise, restrained, and mature.

  But this was Luis. He’d stayed at the hospital when everyone thought she would die. He’d held her hand after the joint replacements. He’d pushed her in the wheelchair when the doctors said she would never walk again. Plus … it was Luis, and with black, close-cut, curly hair, dark eyes, brown complexion, movie star cheekbones, and a resolute chin. At one time they had kissed and she had wanted him. Now he was talking about a second chance. For them.

  She needed to think about this. “Hang on, I have to pick up Lacey.” Luis waited on the sidewalk, hands in pockets, while Kateri climbed the steps to Irene Golobovitch’s tiny apartment, three doors down from hers, knocked, and listened to the ecstatic barking.

  How Lacey knew Kateri’s knock from any other, Kateri did not understand, but although the pretty blond cocker spaniel adored Mrs. Golobovitch, she was never quite content unless she was with Kateri. Kateri had rescued her; Lacey remembered, and every day, she repaid Kateri in love, loyalty, and a fiercely protective spirit that hid beneath a girlish charm. God bless her. When the elderly woman answered the door, Lacey raced out and danced around Kateri with exuberant joy.

  “How was she?” Kateri leaned down, not too far or she would fall over, and dangled her fingers so Lacey could rub herself against them.

  “She is always a sweetheart.” Even after forty-five years in Virtue Falls, Mrs. Golobovitch sported a heavy eastern European accent.

  “Thank you for caring for her. Can I bring her back tomorrow?”

  Mrs. Golobovitch clasped her hands at her bosom. “She’s always welcome. In fact, if you ever wish to leave her here permanently—”

  Both Kateri and Lacey stopped and stared in horror.

  Kateri recovered and straightened. “Thank you, Mrs. Golobovitch, but Lacey is my better half.”

  Mrs. Golobovitch gave Luis a good looking-over. She considered the dog. She smiled. “We shall have to find you a husband, yes? Every woman needs a man to take care of her.” Apparently Mrs. Golobovitch also sported an Old World attitude toward romance. “I’m here for her when you want me.”

  “I appreciate that,” Kateri said.

  Lacey pressed close to her ankle and marched down to the street. She took a moment to greet Luis—he was always a favorite with every female, human or canine—before returning to Kateri and sticking close.

  Kateri appreciated that. She needed to have some creature who treasured her above all others. Then she tried to decide what it meant, that she was more worried about her dog’s affections than about Luis’s. Probably Moen was right: while she was busy being stitched back together, her sexuality had died from lack of attention.

  Luis stopped at the bottom of her steps. “What do you think?”

  “About what?” She started to climb toward her door.

  He caught her hand and stopped her. “About you and me and second chances?”

  Right. “That I am too sleep-deprived to make important decisions, so I will go in and we’ll discuss this another time.”

  “All right. But add this to your decision-making process.” He stepped up and kissed her, a nice hands-off kiss of lips only. Turning, he walked away, whistling.

  The kiss was nice. Not too intimate, yet clearly yearning. But she didn’t like the whistling. That felt … cocky.

  Later. She w
ould worry about him later.

  She headed inside. She fed Lacey. She brushed her dog and brushed her teeth. She collapsed on her bed and let Lacey snuggle close.

  Kateri could change her clothes when she woke up. For now, a full night’s sleep was all she needed. If only Virtue Falls would cooperate.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Jacob lived like a vampire, rising after sundown to eat and drink, to sit in the recliner and look at his world through the narrow lens of his shattered shotgun house.

  For the first three days, things got worse rather than better. Somebody—Web?—removed the plaster ceiling and insulation, exposing the roof trusses and the interior of the attic. Looking up, Jacob could see moonlight through the shingles.

  Not surprisingly, the next day Moore insisted Jacob come out and sign off on a new roof.

  Steel framing rose quickly, yet it offered no shield; without wallboard or siding, Jacob was still exposed to the world. The electricians returned; apparently their first efforts were nothing more than emergency measures, for now wires ran through the studs and the attic. Pipes arrived, and everywhere he looked, they moved like crooked mazes through the walls. A new water heater arrived and sat waiting to be put into place. His refrigerator filled and emptied seemingly by itself as the construction workers used it for their lunches and the grocery delivery boy placed Jacob’s order inside rather than on the porch.

  Jacob began to understand the nighttime rhythms of the neighborhood, too: who went to bed and when, who stayed up too late, which houses remained dark and empty, which houses burst with life.

  He had seen no sign of Madeline Hewitson, nor could he watch her silhouette as she worked at her desk. She had bought a blackout shade and installed it.

  If it was possible for anything to make him happy, that was it. Happy.

  On night five, Jacob came out at zero twenty-one hundred hours. He sat. He stared. He breathed as the air turned fresh and sweet, as the earth exhaled the scent of grass and the asphalt cooled. He watched the ghosts dance across the broken porch and into his living room; he recognized their faces, and he grieved.

  That felt good; his ghosts deserved his grief. He owed them his grief.