“Possibly,” he said, adjusting his grip on his rifle.
“When was the last time you left this house?”
“None of your damn business,” he replied.
Colby shrugged. “Look, if you can give me a layout of the place, that would help.”
“They’re all electronic. The keys. Though I imagine if that fool is using the hotel the rooms are open. Wait here,” he said. Hector walked out of the room and returned a moment later with a large pad of paper and a pen. He began to outline the building on paper. “The whole place used to be a mission run by Jesus Monroy. There are two tiers. Lower rooms and upper balcony level rooms. Chances are if they’re holding anyone there, they’ll keep them up here.” He looked up at him. “Did you really kill three?”
The topic shift back to the three men somehow interested him.
“Yeah.”
“Did any of those three have a tattoo of a dragon on their neck?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He pulled a face as if he was impressed, then without missing a beat he continued. “Look, this map isn’t going to mean a hill of beans to you if you can’t get close enough. I’ll help you but on one condition.”
“What?”
“You come across a guy with a dragon tattoo. He’s mine.”
“Why?”
“He killed my dog.”
Colby glanced down on the kitchen floor at a silver bowl he’d seen when he entered. Few things pissed a dog owner off more than cruelty. As he stared at the bowl, a flashback hit him, hard and clear. A dog barked then rubbing its nose against his leg. “Kane.”
Hector frowned. “What?”
“I think I own a dog.”
“Well, if you did, I’m afraid, my friend, he’s probably dead like mine.”
Colby looked down at the bowl.
The memories were still vague, but the name was familiar, the emotion he felt when he saw that image in his head was strong. It was his dog. Deep down he knew it even if the memories weren’t fully there.
He balled his fist at the thought of anyone harming him.
“You’ll stay here while we go,” Hector said to Eva.
“I’m not staying here.”
“We can’t take you.”
“Screw that.”
Hector looked at him for support.
“Hey, she’s a fiery one. I would just go with it,” Colby added.
He shrugged and walked out of the room, returning with a heavy bag that he dropped on the counter and unzipped. Inside were two more AR-15s, and several handguns, along with ammo.
“Where did you get all that?”
“From the two I killed. We’ll head out as soon as it’s dark.”
TEN Jessie
Humboldt County
He was furious. As much as he wanted to blame Alby, they weren’t the ones that started this. It wasn’t even Ryland’s death that had been the catalyst. It had been the actions of his ancestors, his father, and grandfather before him.
When had the feud truly begun? He had no idea. All he’d ever known was a life of being at odds with the Stricklands. It wasn’t like they were always at each other’s throats. Sometimes it amounted to nothing more than verbal jabs. Until the age of eleven, he thought the rumors of murder were folklore. They weren’t, and now they were back at it, exchanging blood for blood.
Jessie carried his sister’s naked, limp body wrapped in a blanket into the kitchen. Dry blood caked his hands. His eyes were red, swollen from all the tears he’d shed on the way home from Garberville. He’d gone to speak with Alby to discuss this very thing — the repercussions of their actions — and now he was staring at the consequence.
His mother would say it was unavoidable. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. It’s the way it had always been on the mountain. Now he looked down at the face of someone he cared for, the one person who was pure, untainted by the stupidity of their world.
She had a chance of escaping it, starting afresh like his brother, Colby.
Not now.
The family was around the table that afternoon, a table full of dried meat, fruit, vegetables, and soup, all the things they had taken for granted, many of the items taken from the store. “Momma,” he said.
Martha glanced over and dropped her cutlery, almost tripping as she rushed toward him. “What happened?”
He tried to spit the words out but they wouldn’t form.
He’d asked the same question when someone in town gave him the heads-up. As his mother peppered him for answers, his mind slipped back to an hour earlier. After leaving Alby’s he’d wanted to test the waters with the locals, see if anyone was pointing the finger at them over the death of the Stricklands.
He’d approached Nate West, a guy he’d known from high school, someone who at one time had been a close friend, a confidant that understood what it meant to live in the gray of life. His girlfriend worked for the city and was currently serving as part of the council in Eureka. If anyone would know, it would be him.
He’d met him at his house on the north side, not far from where Miriam was found. “Have you heard anything?”
“Were you responsible, Jessie?”
“Of course not. But you know how these things go.”
“Look, all I’ll say is you should steer clear of the Stricklands.”
They were in the middle of a conversation when a group of young kids came barreling down the road, sprinting as fast as they could. “Jessie. Jessie. You need to come quick.”
“What’s up?”
“It’s Miriam.”
That’s all they said. That’s all they knew.
While his family’s ties and roots in the city had given them many enemies, they still had many friends. Where most looked upon them as criminals caught up in the black market, others knew better. Despite his mother’s flaws, she loved her community, she loved the people, she believed in helping those less fortunate.
At least she made him believe that.
Maybe it was because she knew that eventually there would come a day like this when the government would fail, and the only thing people would remember
