Crossroads

Sarah’s bedroom is neat — bed made up, closet doors closed, very little on the vanity except what one might expect

— brush, comb, a few items of makeup. There is no desk. No computer in sight. I peek in the closet. Boots and shoes lined up against the back, clothes hung, shelves with careful y folded sweaters and scarves along one wal. The only thing out of place is a wicked-looking crossbow leaning against the back corner. A quiver holds both metal and wooden bolts.

I take a deep breath, close the door, and start opening drawers. Three in the dresser — underwear, jeans, jewelry. I try the nightstand. A Tony Hil erman paperback, a flashlight, a pad of paper and a pen and. . condoms.

I shut the drawer quickly. That answers one question.

Maybe Sarah wasn’t in love with Kayani, but she was having sex with him.

No address book. No computer.

I shut the door to Sarah’s room quietly behind me. I’m facing Mary’s room. That door is open. There is a desk in this room. And a laptop computer. But is it Mary’s or Sarah’s?

My bet is on Mary. She’s home from col ege. . I catch myself with a grimace— was home from col ege — and would have wanted to keep in touch with her friends. When I take a closer look, I see it has a mobile web browser. But when I try to connect, there is no service. Too far away from cable or satel ite access I guess. Mary must have taken the laptop with her to the lodge when she wanted to go online.

Are her friends wondering why they haven’t heard from her? Are they concerned? No. It’s too soon for concern. Most likely they assume she’s enjoying her summer the way they’re enjoying theirs. Who wil be the one to break the news that Mary is gone?

I power the laptop down and leave it on the desk.

I open the top middle drawer. The usual array of home-office items. The drawers to the right are a file drawer and one other. It’s in that one that I spy a smal leather-bound address book.

I carry it with me to the living room and take a seat on the sofa.

Kayani’s number is there, as is a number to the lodge. No addresses. I cal Kayani’s number first. Get an answering machine that has the ubiquitous generic message to leave a number after the beep. Obviously a home rather than work number since no reference is made to the Navajo police. I don’t leave a message. When I cal the lodge, I’m connected with an operator. I ask for the address and directions to the lodge, which are cheerful y given.

I sort them away in my head.

It looks like I’l be going after Chael first.

It’s stil quiet in the kitchen. I have Frey’s keys but don’t want to leave without letting him know. I swap the address book for a piece of paper and pen from the desk and scribble a hasty note. When I tiptoe into the kitchen, I find Frey and John-John both asleep at the table. I leave the note, kiss the top of Frey’s head and tiptoe back out.

Frey’s Jeep has everythingincluding a GPS system. The operator was kind enough to provide latitude and longitude and I plug it in: N 37 00 39 W 110 12.116.

I have no clue what it means, but the Jeep does. In less than a minute, I’m on my way.

I haven’t gone more than a couple of miles before I pass another vehicle headed toward Sarah’s. Through the driver’s side window, I see gray hair and a pinched, hol owcheeked profile. It’s just a quick glance and the driver doesn’t look over at me even though we’re the only two cars on a deserted stretch of desert. But I’m pretty sure I recognize him from one of the pictures on Sarah’s bookcase.

Sarah and Mary’s father.

For a moment I wonder if I should go back. Then reason takes over. If he recognized what I was, it would be that much harder on Frey. Better to let them have this time alone.

Finding Chael and getting him out of our lives is more important than anything else.

My jaws ache with anticipation. I wil take great pleasure in kil ing him.

CHAPTER 27

GOULDING’S LODGE IS LOCATED ABOUT TWENTY miles from U.S. 163. Not built exactly the way I would have imagined — nothing rustic here though its modern sand-colored stucco and red-tile roof do blend in against the backdrop of steep red cliffs. It’s only eight and already the parking lot is ful of cars, RVs and campers. Now that I’m here, I wonder how I’l find Chael. I doubt he’s registered under his name.

There is one way.

A light mist is stil fal ing, but it doesn’t seem to be discouraging visitors from flocking to the lodge. I make my way past a motel, museum and gift shop to fol ow the crowd to the lobby. I find an out of the way corner and close my eyes.

I cloak my own thoughts while opening the conduit that wil permit me to pick up on the unguarded thoughts of other supernaturals.

At first, I don’t sense anything. The drone of mortal voices makes it hard to concentrate. I try harder, filtering out ambient noise and the high-pitched wail of an unhappy baby.

Then I get a psychic hit.

A voice from the far corner of the lobby. Then another. I make my way over, stand a few feet away and watch.

But it’s not Chael. It’s a family of shape-shifters. Two adults and a petulant teenage daughter. From Minnesota. They’re arguing because the girl wants to cal her boyfriend and her mother tel s her there isn’t time before the tour.

You’re just saying that because you don’t like Jack, the girl whines.

You’re right, her mother snaps back. I don’t. He’s a werewolf and can’t be trusted.

Shit. I tune out. Retreat back a few steps and try again.

Chael has to be here. There aren’t that many places to stay on the reservation. He would want to be close enough to enjoy the havoc he’s created, to taste the pain.

“Anna Strong? What are you doing?”

The voice makes me jump — not only because it comes right at my elbow but because I was concentrating so hard on picking things out of the air, I didn’t sense the physical approach of this very real human.

“Officer Kayani. You startled me.”

He narrows his eyes. “What were you doing?”

How do I explain? “Just — people watching.”

“With your eyes closed?”

Now would be a good time to change the subject. “You’re in civilian clothes. Off duty?”

“Just. Stopped by for a cup of coffee before heading home. Care to join me?”

I nod and he motions me toward glass doors at the back of the lobby. I let him lead the way, stil keeping the vampire radar on alert for a ping of recognition. Al I get though is another nasal round of squabbling from the shape-shifters.

I give up with a sigh and turn my attention to Kayani. He’s changed into tan chinos and a long-sleeved black shirt, untucked, and on his feet he’s wearing leather sandals. He asks what I’d like. I order coffee, black, and when he’s been handed the cups, he leads the way once again to a long deck spanning the length of the lodge.

It’s not very crowded; the rain keeps most of the tourists inside. But the view from the deck is astounding. It’s a panorama of ragged rock formations stretching unbroken for miles. Once again I feel the tug of immortality, a sense that I belong here. I cross the deck to stand by the railing, drawn by a force I don’t understand.

Kayani joins me. “Wouldn’t you rather sit in the back? Out of the rain.”

Reluctantly, I nod and pul myself away. There is a sheltered area with a dozen cafe tables and chairs and Kayani picks one. We sit, but my eyes keep drifting back to the view.