The Woman Who Couldn't Scream

  She jumped down onto the damp sand, then climbed onto the pilings and did her karate-movie poses, balancing on one leg and then the other. He watched for a few moments, then jumped onto a piling, wavered and fell off into the sand.

  Clutching her side, silently laughing, she fell off, too.

  “Really? Laugh at me?” He crawled toward her. He was on the prowl.

  She crawled away. It was stupid, playful—she could have stood up and run. Instead she got sand in her shoes, scoured the skin off her knees, and when he caught her hips, found herself toppled onto her back, looking up at him silhouetted against the sky.

  She thought he would be laughing. He wasn’t. He looked at her, searching her face, trying to peer beneath the features, seeking the truth.

  He’d know the truth soon enough.

  But not now. She wanted to live. A distraction. She needed a distraction.

  Reaching up, she twisted her hands in his sweaty T-shirt, pulled him down on her—and practiced her kissing.

  Stupid distraction.

  By the time she was done, he had touched her. By the time she pushed him off, he was hard and hot and she knew she had made him suffer.

  If only she didn’t still feel the pressure of his hands cupping her breasts, the thrust of his hips against hers. If only she wasn’t suffering, too.

  She stood and set off across the sand, running fast, desperate to get away until her flush had faded and her pulse roared aerobically rather than lustily.

  The sand ruined that plan. She had to stop, sit, shake out her shoes and empty her socks.

  By the time she was done, he was standing, waiting. He set the pace up the steep path onto the cliff and he didn’t slack off to accommodate her. Or maybe he did, which made her gasping at the top even more humiliating. She wanted to take a break; she couldn’t because he kept running. Once again it had become a contest, and she wasn’t going to catch him without a strategy.

  She’d traveled this path before; he probably hadn’t. She tracked him until he followed the trail as it cut inland, through a stand of cypress trees, and disappeared from sight. Then she took the shortcut, thrashing through the underbrush to cut him off.

  She barely made it, leaping out in front of him where the path cut sharply back toward the sea. His competitive smile changed to surprise and he skidded to a stop. “How did you do that?”

  “I cheated,” she signed, and grinned and plucked cypress bark from her hair.

  “Wish I’d thought of that.” He looked beyond her. “Hello.”

  She swung around.

  The maid from the Good Knight Manor Bed and Breakfast stood there in her drab garb, holding her bag of cleaning supplies. Susie looked more surprised than Benedict or Merida, then annoyed, then embarrassed. “Sorry. Sorry! I’m in your way. Seems like I’m always in the way.” She shuffled off the trail and back into the trees. “Go on. Finish your run. I’ll stand here and wait.”

  Merida gestured in question.

  “What? Oh. What am I doin’?” Susie shifted her bag from hand to hand as if it weighed her down. “If I’ve got time before I go to work, I like to come look at the view. Refreshin’, it is, like a really good bathroom cleaner.”

  “Oh.” Merida mouthed the word, began to sign, then stopped in frustration.

  “Go ahead,” Benedict said. “I’ll tell her what you’re saying.”

  To Susie, Merida signed, “I thought you didn’t start work at the B and B until later. Around eleven.” As she spoke, Benedict translated the sign language into spoken English.

  Interesting. When Nauplius translated for Merida, he used her gestures, her expressions, to bring attention to himself. With Benedict, she felt as if he was simply making her life easier.

  “I’ve got another job today, cleanin’ a house down here by the ocean. Please don’t tell Mrs. Glass. She’s real funny about me workin’ for someone other than her.”

  Merida pantomimed zipping her lip, then signed, “Enjoy your quiet before your busy day.”

  “Right. I’ll see ya at the B and B. You going to let me in to clean your room today?” Susie looked so worn down by life, so eager to please. “I promise not to touch any of your stuff, not ever again.”

  Merida nodded. Reluctantly, but she nodded.

  “Miss, what time you want me in there?” Susie asked.

  “I’ll go out for lunch about one. You can do it then.” Merida would make sure she locked her computer in the safe.

  “Okay.” Susie looked at Benedict. “You going out with her? To lunch?”

  Benedict raised his eyebrows to Merida.

  She nodded.

  Susie said, “I’ll prep your room, too. There’ll be clean sheets.” Susie looked horrified. “Which … I mean … when you get back, everything else will be clean, too, not just the sheets.”

  Merida was already flushed from the run. Thank God, for Susie made such a big deal covering her blooper that Merida blushed.

  Benedict, naturally, seemed unaffected. “Sounds good, Susie. We’ll leave you to your view.” He gestured to Merida to go ahead, and when they were out of earshot, he said, “Bathroom cleaner?”

  Merida turned around, ran backward and spelled, “She’s … odd.”

  He slowed to a walk to watch her. “Clean sheets?” He obviously thought it was funny.

  Merida did not want to go there. She spelled, “Probably some new wrapped slivers of soap, too.” She faced forward and took the right into Virtue Falls. They walked through little pocket neighborhoods, past tiny shotgun houses built in the thirties that were now worn from constant exposure to the winds off the ocean and the salt in the air.

  “Soap would be good. Yesterday she forgot to leave towels. I had to call before I showered.” Exasperated, he asked, “What kind of maid forgets to leave towels?”

  “As I said, odd. And not too bright. Don’t leave out any belongings you don’t want her to investigate.”

  “Right. Thanks for the warning.”

  As they got closer to the Good Knight Manor Bed and Breakfast, the houses got bigger and usually better kept. Although not always—there was that mansion behind the hedge next to the B and B …

  She gave the place a wide berth, stepping into the street and tugging at his arm to steer him around.

  “Is it haunted?” he asked. “That house? Is it supposed to be haunted?”

  She looked skeptical.

  “I wondered. At night, I’ve seen lights over there. Vagrants probably, rather than spooks.”

  Sure. Vagrants. Good cover story.

  “You going to partake of Phoebe’s excellent breakfast?”

  Merida rolled her shoulders uncomfortably.

  “Come on. I’m starving and if I go in by myself, Phoebe sits on one side and talks to me and that Palmer woman sits on the other side and talks to me. Phoebe chirps about everything being delightful and Lilith bitches about everything in Virtue Falls including the unceasing sound of the ocean. She seems to think it should be on a sound machine with an off switch.” He perfectly captured the two women’s personalities.

  Merida signed, “Wow, you know how to sweet-talk a girl into getting your way.”

  He waited.

  “All right, I’ll come to breakfast.”

  “And lunch.”

  “And lunch. But in between, I have to work.”

  His voice went from amused to grim. “So do I.”

  She glanced at him.

  He looked grim. Good. Maybe he sensed the shift in the ground beneath his feet, the violence of the oncoming earthquake, his inevitable destruction.

  She hoped so. She hoped he had started to worry.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Kateri woke. She lay on her side. Her arm was asleep, dangling off the cot. Her mouth was dry and tasted like cotton.

  All in all, she felt better.

  She opened her eyes. She didn’t remember falling asleep, didn’t remember anything after promising Rainbow she would stay, but now she rested o
n a cot in Rainbow’s hospital room, a weight on her waist held her down, and if she was supposed to be keeping Rainbow company through the night, she had been a miserable failure.

  “You awake?” Stag’s deep voice spoke in her ear; he was spooning her on the narrow cot. Nice. Comforting. Poor guy must be cramped as all hell. The weight at her waist—his arm—disappeared.

  “Yes. Better.” She lifted herself onto her elbow and looked across at Rainbow—who was still unmoving, unconscious, barely breathing.

  Stag’s thoughts ran parallel to Kateri’s. “She’s alive. That’s something.”

  Lacey popped her head up; she rested on the hospital bed against Rainbow’s side, and she stared at Kateri, her big brown eyes sad and pleading.

  “Ohh.” Kateri sighed softly. “You brought the dog.” The dog who believed Kateri could fix anything. The dog whom Kateri had rescued from certain death.

  “Lacey loves Rainbow and I thought she might … help Rainbow, or at least wish to say good-bye.”

  Kateri wished she had been so thoughtful. But she’d been too busy chasing John Terrance and examining dead bodies to think of the connection between Rainbow and Lacey. “The hospital let her in?”

  “It was late, and Dr. Frownfelter put her on the bed himself … Did you know you drool and snore at the same time?”

  Kateri used a well-aimed elbow to shove him off the cot and onto the floor.

  He landed with a thump, chuckling low in his chest. “I’ll walk Lacey.” Going to the bed, he lifted the dog off, taking care not to joggle the mattress. “I brought you clean clothes. Go shower.”

  “Right.” Kateri glanced at the clock. Six A.M. She checked her cell. No messages. No crises, no murders. So far, so good. She gathered the bag Stag had shoved into the corner. Going to the bed, she lightly touched Rainbow’s head, her chest, her hand.

  No change. Barely a flicker of life. “Dear friend…” she said, and remembered Lacey’s sorrowful eyes. Guilt. So much guilt.

  She hurried into the bathroom. Her ironed uniform was wrinkled; Stag wasn’t the best at packing. But he’d thought about how she would want clean clothes and that gave him all the points. After a day filled with blood and sweat, bullets and worry, and a night of black exhaustion, nothing was as glorious as a shower and clean clothes. She came out to a room empty except for her friend Rainbow, whose soul awaited transport across the cold depths and into that last, glorious warmth of light.

  Perhaps letting her go was the kindest thing. Perhaps that was Rainbow’s destiny. If Rainbow survived, she faced a road ahead of pain, challenge and change.

  But what was a world without Rainbow? She was the heart of Virtue Falls, the woman who knew everyone, the waitress who listened to dreams, hopes and troubles, the counselor who gave advice, both wanted and unwanted.

  The memory of Lacey’s pleading eyes made Kateri decide she had to try. Yes, Rainbow’s life was barely a flicker, but if death was inevitable … Going to Rainbow’s side, Kateri took Rainbow’s hand. “It’s me. It’s Kateri. You know what I can do … sometimes. Save someone’s life … sometimes. If the conditions are right. I want to try. With you. Is that okay?”

  The hospital had removed Rainbow from all the machines except the monitor that tracked her heartbeat, and that had been silenced. The room was quiet, the hush almost holy, and although Kateri listened, she felt no stirring in Rainbow’s mind, no response to her question. Going to the window, she opened the curtains and let the dawn into the room. Returning to the bed, Kateri could smell death in the scent of Rainbow’s exhalation. But there was also life, wanting to take control. Kateri breathed Rainbow’s breath into her lungs, let them mix, exhaled close, hoping her essence would mix with Rainbow’s and together they would feed life’s fire. “My gift comes from the frog god,” she whispered to Rainbow. “Sip it. Taste it. Inhale and let it warm your blood and bring you strength.”

  Rainbow’s chest rose and fell, rose and fell.

  She was breathing more deeply, absorbing Kateri’s essence.

  “That’s it, Rainbow. That’s it!” Kateri had been a fool to worry; she could do this! She could save Rainbow!

  Then … Rainbow’s chest collapsed. The heart monitor went flat.

  “No. No, Rainbow!” Kateri blew air at Rainbow. “Listen to me. You have to live!”

  A nurse rushed in. Another nurse. They pushed Kateri out of the way, took Rainbow’s pulse, lifted her lids. Significantly, they didn’t speak.

  Kateri had done it, all right. She’d killed Rainbow.

  Dr. Frownfelter came in, white coat flapping. He caught Kateri’s arm. “Don’t,” he said. “We knew this was coming. There was nothing you could do.” Letting her go, he hurried to the bed.

  She blundered out into the corridor, into Stag’s solid form.

  He took one look at her face, picked up Lacey and put her into her arms, and disappeared into the room.

  Kateri hugged her dog, rocked her while Lacey licked her face in distress.

  Stag stepped out of Rainbow’s room. “She’s going now. Do you want to go in and be with her?”

  “I’m afraid to go near her.”

  “What happened?”

  “I had to try.”

  “To save her?”

  “I thought I would be okay with whatever happened. I’m not. I was afraid I would blow out the flame of Rainbow’s life. I did.”

  “Oh, honey.” Stag put his arm around her, enveloping Kateri and Lacey.

  Kateri stood straight and stiff.

  “Hey. Stop blaming yourself.”

  “I don’t blame myself. I didn’t shoot her.” She pushed away.

  Again Stag tried to hug her. “The Terrances shot her.”

  “It was such good timing, with me and Bergen in the Oceanview Café.”

  Now Stag stiffened. He stepped away. “What are you trying to say?”

  She looked up at him.

  His eyes were blank, black, closed off. Like a storm, he was gathering fury.

  She wet her lips.

  He took another step away. “You might as well say it, Kateri Kwinault.”

  Now that she’d started this, she was afraid. Afraid she’d made a mistake. “I just wondered if you…”

  “No. If I had arranged it, you would be dead.” His tone was flat, implacable.

  Giving voice to her suspicions was the worst mistake of her life.

  He continued, “It’s one thing not to trust me to bring home almond milk. It’s another thing not to trust me to run a law-abiding construction site. And it’s another to believe I orchestrated the shooting at the Oceanview Café.”

  One look at his flinty eyes and she discarded any flippant suggestion that she trusted him with the milk.

  Lacey whimpered.

  Kateri petted her and tried to explain, to backtrack. “You were walking down the street. Your reflexes were so fast. You hit the ground before anyone else heard the Terrances’ car or noticed anything … I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help but think how much easier it would be for your casino if the sheriff and the deputy sheriff were replaced by people more … amenable to…” Her voice petered out.

  Stag stood in that cool hospital corridor, hands loose, staring at her. He didn’t look defensive, or indignant, and as she watched, his fury dissipated, leaving only grief.

  That frightened her.

  Taking her face in his hands, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Good-bye, my beautiful Kateri.” Turning, he walked away.

  There was a finality about that kiss that at last drove home what she had done. She had killed Rainbow and now, she had killed something beautiful, something she would never find again.

  Worse, if his expression was anything to go by, she had hurt Stag Denali as he had never been hurt before. “Oh, Lacey,” she said. “What have I done?”

  Lacey struggled in her arms.

  Kateri placed her on the floor.

  Lacey trotted after Stag, then looked back at Kateri, then trotted a fe
w more steps, then looked back at Kateri. Kateri understood her clearly: What’s wrong with you? Let’s go. We belong with Stag.

  Kateri’s tears welled in her eyes. She hurt. She hurt all over. For Rainbow. For Lacey. For herself. And for Stag. But she didn’t sob out loud; that wouldn’t be fair to Lacey.

  The little prom queen of a dog got all the way to the door before she turned around and trotted back to Kateri.

  Overcome with regret, with anguish, with old fears that drove her to foolishness, Kateri dropped to her knees and hugged her.

  Then the radio on her shoulder crackled to life.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  In all her life, Kateri had never been so glad to be interrupted.

  “Weston here.” The cocky, overconfident law enforcement officer sounded as if he were a kid talking to the principal. “Sheriff…”

  In the background she heard Bergen say, “You have to tell her. I’m not gonna.”

  Weston’s voice quavered. “Sheriff, Rainbow’s house was broken into and, um, searched.”

  Kateri wanted to shout, to rage about his incompetence and his inability to follow orders.

  But all he’d done was fail to protect Rainbow’s property.

  Kateri had killed her.

  So in a reasonable tone of voice, she asked, “Is it trashed?”

  “Nothing’s hurt, but it’s not neat anymore. Like … like your place when someone searched. Everything shoved around, but nothing’s broken, nothing’s missing that I can see.”

  Kateri rubbed her forehead. “You don’t know who did this?”

  “No.”

  “Or when?”

  “Sometime in the last twenty-four hours?”

  “You don’t sound sure.”

  “Maybe thirty hours.”

  “Weston.”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “When you decided to not follow my orders to protect Rainbow’s property, did it not occur to you to install some kind of security in her home?”

  “No, ma’am. I thought that…”

  “I was overreacting?” God save her from superior young men. “Rather than be fired for this blatant incompetence, I suggest that you spend your off-duty hours cleaning up the mess in Rainbow’s house.”