“First time here?”
“Is it that obvious?”
Kayani smiles. “There is no place like this on earth. It has been inhabited by indigenous people since the beginning of time. A holy place. At least until silver was discovered in the 1800s. Then we Navajo were rounded up and driven out. It wasn’t until the mid-1800s that we were allowed to return and 1884 before it was declared officially the Navajo’s. This is our land by right, and we will never be driven out again.”
He speaks as if I might be planning to make an attempt at it. “Those days are over.”
He gives me a look that might be put into the “are you really that naive?” classification—brows lowered, lips drawn back into a frown.
Is he this touchy with all the tourists? Or is it because of my connection to Frey.
Regardless, I don’t jump to the bait. Instead I sip coffee and let my gaze linger on the countryside, all the while deciding how best to broach the subject I intended to when I set out this morning. I don’t know any way to do it but to speak directly. He’ll respond one way or the other—be receptive and stay or get angry and leave.
I place the cup on the table, lace my hands together and lean in toward him. “I’m sorry for your loss. I know you and Sarah were close.”
No response. No tightening of the shoulders or jaws. No sharp intake of breath. Is this stone face because he’s Navajo or because he’s a cop?
“The way you and John-John greeted each other made me suspect. And George confirmed it. I want you to know Frey was no threat to you and Sarah. He came here to see his son. That’s all.”
Kayani is watching me more closely now. Still, he lets nothing of his own feeling show. I wish I could penetrate his thoughts, figure out the best way to proceed. I can’t. So I fumble onward.
“There was a second reason we came. Had nothing to do with Frey and everything to do with me. Sarah was speaking on my behalf before the council. You may already know it.”
Finally, a response, a tiny nod of the head. I take that to mean “go on.”
Now we tred on dangerous ground. Do I tell Kayani what I am? Will he react like George? Maybe I won’t have to admit the whole truth right now. I gather my thoughts, continue slowly.
“Frey is a Keeper of the Secrets. I assume you know that. He is a friend of mine who has helped me through some trying times. I asked him about Sani. He told me where I could find him. Here.”
Kayani’s eyes flicker. “How do you know about Sani? The shaman’s identity is a well-kept secret among the
Dine’é
.”
“I respect that. That he was here and what he can do was passed on to me by someone else. I don’t know how this person came to know of him.”
He isn’t pleased with the answer. A scowl darkens his face. “Who else knew that you were looking for Sani?”
“George, no one else.” Chael, too, but I can’t open that can of worms until I’m ready to admit what I am.
“And he didn’t try to talk Sarah out of making the request ?”
Knowing how George feels about me, I can imagine he probably did. But since I don’t know for sure, I shake my head. “I’m not sure. We didn’t discuss it.”
“Why would you seek Sani?”
The question I’ve been dreading. I stall a moment by drawing in a breath and letting it out slowly. The act does nothing to make framing a response easier. “I have a personal reason to seek his council.” Ambiguous.
Unsuccessful.
Kayani shifts irritably. “Did you lose someone close to you?”
I should have known he would not accept such a vague response. I know I sure as hell wouldn’t. But before I can reply, Kayani adds, “Because if that’s the reason you came, you could have saved yourself a trip. Sani does not use his magic to reverse death on a whim. If he did—”
He lets his voice drop and for the first time, a spark of emotion flares through. It’s easy to finish his sentence. If Sani reversed death just because he was asked to, Kayani would have already petitioned for Sarah’s life to be restored. Wanting something, no matter how badly, is not enough.
It strikes me that Kayani really has no idea that I’m vampire. He’s never touched me, even to shake hands, so he’s not experienced the marble coldness of my skin. Outwardly, unless I show my vampire face, I look human. A little thin, perhaps, with an unlined face that may make me look younger than my thirty years, but human.
“Have you spoken to George at all?”
Kayani draws himself up, his stoic mask back in place. “No. I expect I’ll talk to him later today.”
Now I have to decide. I have no doubt George will tell Kayani about me. Would it be better to do it myself now and take my chances?
Kayani drains his cup. “I have to go.”
“You can’t stay a little longer? I have something to talk with you about.”
“No.” He rises and crushes the cup in his hand. “I need to prepare. We are burying Sarah this afternoon.”
“This afternoon? I thought burial was to be in four days.”
“Sarah’s parents fear there is black magic at work. They want to bury their daughters today before a curse can be laid.” He frowns down at me. “I thought that’s why you were here. Frey sent you away until it was over.”
Kayani’s words stab at me. The man I passed on the way here. Sarah’s father come to tell Frey of their plans.
I rise, too, trying to control the uneasiness overwhelming me. If Kayani is right in his assumption, I have to get back to Frey. Because in my gut I know. I remember the expression on the old man’s face as he passed me.
Frey is facing Sarah’s hostile parent. Alone.
What did Frey say? In their eyes, he deserted Sarah and her son. He’ll need support. I should be there.
Kayani and I walk out together, though I’m barely able to restrain the instinct to break and run to the Jeep. I manage to keep the alarm out of my voice long enough to ask, “Will John-John take part in his mother’s burial?”
He shakes his head. “No. He will stay with George at the house. It will be a traditional burial. Only Frey, Sarah’s parents and I will tend to Sarah and her sister. After, we will come back to the house.”
Kayani is parked in a space marked “Police Use.” He’s still driving the SUV I saw this morning. Rain is coming down harder now. It soaks our clothes and beads in our hair. He glances toward the sky. “Would you like a ride to your vehicle?”
“No. Thank you. I’m not far.”
His eyes are still on the sky. “It is a sad day. Even the heavens weep.”
CHAPTER 28
I
AM STARTLED BY THE SORROW IN HIS EYES. THAT HE loved Sarah is no longer conjecture. I don’t know how long they had been seeing each other, but I hope she returned his feelings. Maybe it will offer some consolation in the dark days ahead.
He pulls out of the lot and I sprint to the Jeep, reverse the course on the GPS and start back.
Why didn’t Frey call me when Sarah’s parents showed up to tell me about the burial?
And why did Kayani said he figured Frey sent me away?
I don’t like the idea of George being alone with John-John. It took me about thirty minutes to make it to the lodge from the house. The only consolation I have is that if Kayani is just now on his way, too, we should arrive together. I should make it in time to accompany Frey.
I catch up to Kayani quickly. I can see him checking out the Jeep in his rearview mirror and when he recognizes me, he signals and pulls over. I do, too.
He strides back to the Jeep. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going back to the house. I want to go with Frey to Sarah’s funeral.”
He scowls down at me. “It’s not a funeral. You are an outsider. Why do you think Frey sent you away?”
I bristle at his tone. “He didn’t send me away. I came to the lodge on my own. I wanted to give him time alone with John-John.”
“Well, you need to give us all time. You cannot be a part of what is to take place. You could cause irreparable harm. To Frey. To Sarah’s parents.”
“I respect the idea that the Navajo have customs to honor their dead. I can’t see how my observing those customs can lead to harm.”
Kayani places both hands on the door of the Jeep and leans toward me. “Listen, Ms. Strong. Sarah’s parents are very traditional. They will not have mentioned either of their daughter’s names since the accident. Do you want to know why? Because they believe after death, the good part of a person goes on while the bad part stays here as a ghost. Mentioning the name of a dead person calls the ghost. Such a simple thing. But were you to offer condolences, for instance, and in doing so, mention the girls’ names, you will have violated a taboo. Do you want that on your conscience?”
He is so serious, so vehement in his argument that I back down. He is right. I have no idea of the intricacies of such long-held beliefs. I would only be a burden on Frey and if I did something wrong, cast a bad reflection on him in a delicate time.
“All right. I’ll go back to the lodge. But you have to keep an eye on Frey for me. Make sure no harm comes to him.”
Kayani’s brow furrows at the request. “What harm could come to him? He has studied the Navajo way.”
“Just tell me you will. And on George, too.”
His puzzled frown deepens. “I don’t understand.”
“And if you have time for an explanation, I’ll give it to you. If not, please honor
my
request.”
He straightens and backs away from the Jeep. “I will.” His tone is clipped, formal. “But later, when this day is over, I will come to you for answers.”
He waits for my nod of acceptance and leaves me. If George tells him that I’m vampire, he’ll no doubt come back armed with Sarah’s crossbow and a wooden arrow. A chance I’ll have to take.
I watch until the SUV disappears around a bluff, leaving a trail in the muddy red earth. I have two choices.
Forget all I told Kayani and go to the house anyway.
Head back for the lodge and try to locate Chael.
I look around as if divine inspiration might spring from the mighty rain-streaked formations and soaked earth surrounding me. It’s Kayani, however, his face, his tone, his willingness to allow parents a chance to grieve in their own way that influences the decision. Another might find such customs archaic. Kayani is a modern cop in an ancient land but he accepts and honors both worlds.
It’s a balancing act I understand very well.
It seems the decision has been made. I do a U-turn and head back the way I came. Trying to track Chael down through a psychic connection wasn’t very successful. What if I try a simple human way?
Once more in the lobby, I shake rain out of my hair and go directly to the registration desk. A pretty Native American girl greets me with a sunny smile. “Can I help you?”
My turn to put on a perky face. “I hope so. Last night at dinner I thought I saw someone I knew from my college days at UA. He was a foreign student from the Middle East. I know it’s probably my imagination, but if it was Chael, I’d love to say hello. It would be such a happy coincidence is we ran into each other here after all those years. Is it possible for you to check and see if he’s registered?”
“Of course. What was the name?”
“Chael. I’m sorry but I don’t remember if that was his first or last name. It’s spelled C-h-a-e-l.”
“No problem. The computer can check both.”
Her fingers fly over the keyboard with practiced aplomb. After a few moments, she shakes her head. “I’m sorry. No one on file with that first or last name. Could he be registered with someone else?”
Of course he could. “Try Judith Williams from San Diego. I remember they were great friends.”
The fingers do their tap dance once again. This time I’m rewarded with a smile. “Yes, Ms. Williams is registered.” She picks up a desk phone. “Would you like me to ring the room?”
“That would ruin the surprise,” I reply. “I’ll just hang out in the lobby for a while and watch for them.” I dig in my pocket for some cash and hand her a five. “Thanks so much for your help.”
She accepts the bill. “You are very welcome. If I can do anything else—”
I make my smiling escape, hitting the gift shop first to pick up the
Arizona Highways
magazine before retreating to a strategic spot where I can keep an eye on both the stairs and the elevator. This damn rain may mean they keep to their room. No need to come to the dining room when you don’t eat like a human.
Two hours of boredom produce nothing but a sore butt. I relinquish my spot on the couch and pace up and down, stretching leg muscles unused to sitting for such a long period. Reminds me of hours of surveillance with David and that we haven’t had to do it in quite some time. Mainly because our new partner has connections to both police departments and bail bondsmen in the Southern California area. Thanks to Tracey, these days jobs find us.