Chapter 11
When she woke up next, she saw the early morning sun shining through the window. And heard a strange call. She sat up in bed slowly. Roash was at the window, pecking at the glass. “Do you need to go out?”
Roash turned, and she was pinned with a golden look. She studied the distance from the bed to the window and then decided she should try. Carefully she stood, surprised to find the pain tolerable. Her feet still felt swollen and puffy, like she was walking on cushions, and each step sent spikes of pain through her—but to a lesser degree than she’d felt so far. At the window, she opened it wide enough for Roash to fly out.
She stood there for a long moment, studying the acres of land, and, from where she stood, she could see the corner of a pen. And birds. An incredible number of them stretched out. Some lined the interior fence; some were in cages; some were sitting on top of the roof. She didn’t quite understand what was going on out there, but she wanted to. She’d understood Eagle had pens but hadn’t expected wild birds resting on every surface around the yard.
A door was at her side. She realized what she’d thought was a closet was a door out to a small deck. She opened it, winced at the cold air reaching her, wrapped her arms around her chest, and stepped out.
The chill in the air in no way took away from the beauty of her surroundings. For somebody who had spent her life getting back to nature, it amazed her that this man lived in what she’d easily call God’s Country. Rolling hills, trees everywhere. She looked but saw no sign of other people. And yet birds were everywhere. She didn’t understand, but one cried insistently. She studied the mass of birds, looking for the one calling. His cry wasn’t a sign of pain, so she didn’t understand his distress. It was like a warning.
As soon as that thought crossed her mind, she felt a shiver deep inside. She stepped back off the small deck, back into her room. She closed and locked the door. Walking to the window, she called for Roash to come in.
But there was no flood of wings. She stood with the window open ever-so-slightly and took a few steps to the bed. Just as she was to sit down, she realized she should do a bathroom trip first. When she got back to the bed, she pulled off one of her socks and took a good long look at her feet. They felt sore, but she’d managed to walk. That was huge.
The bed needed straightening. Then, as she sat down once more, that same odd cry came again. Only this time it was muffled. Too curious to ignore, she got up and walked back out on the deck. And there stood Eagle. Talking to what appeared to be a blue heron. She studied it in amazement. Blue herons were hardly inland birds. They always clung to rivers, streams, wetlands. Normally a fish-eating bird, she wondered if Eagle had a lake or river around here with a constant source of food for the heron.
She watched as he placed a bucket in front of the heron, who immediately dipped down and pulled out a fish. He threw his head back and swallowed it whole. She watched as it slowly slid down his long neck. The bird stood at least four feet high. It was a darn impressive sight.
She smiled, absolutely loving the interaction. This place was special. How unusual was the man who cared for the birds. Most were predators, which required a special diet. Mice, hatched chicks, fish, and the odd chunk of meat would be needed, depending on the different species. She wanted to go out and talk to him. But, at the same time, she felt an odd, creepy feeling of being watched. She stepped back into the doorway. As she did so, Eagle spun, and his gaze pinned her in place. A look of surprise whispered across his features. Then he smiled. She gave him a shy small finger wave, stepped inside, and closed the door.
She was sure of one thing. Eagle was a good man.
She also knew someone—or something—was watching the property. And, although there had been something animalistic about this, she wouldn’t have said it was threatening. Yet, a definite menace hung in the air.
Back in bed she found a bottle of cream on the night table. She studied the label. It was an antiseptic cream. She smoothed it all over the soles of her feet and would let them dry before putting her socks on again. She still didn’t know where Eagle’s property was located, but there’d been such a chill to the air outside that she figured the altitude of his property had to be higher than at her cabin. Had fall weather descended on them?
She’d lost track of time long ago. Five weeks since her mother’s death? Definitely fall then. That was one hell of a long time that she basically didn’t remember. As she did recall the torturous days and nights, she was damn lucky to have landed here. Even now thankfulness invaded her very soul.
She was barely under the blankets when she heard Eagle’s footsteps at the front porch. She really wanted to see the rest of the house, but she was too tired and sore for more walking. And going outside was out of the question, especially now that the house was being watched.
He was at her doorway within minutes. “It was good to see you up,” he said quietly. That gaze of his never missed anything. He studied her face, seeing the fatigue. He saw her feet partially out of the blanket, the evidence of the cream glistening on her soles. “How was it to walk?”
“Not as painful as I expected. Yet, I won’t be running marathons anytime soon.”
“You think you’ll run one later? That would be worth seeing.” He grinned. “Do you feel like having breakfast at the table?”
“I’d love to, but I just put some cream on my feet.”
“Put the socks back on and walk carefully so you don’t slip.”
She nodded and sat up. “Did you see where Roash went?” she asked anxiously. “I let him out this a little bit ago.”
Eagle shook his head. “I wouldn’t worry about him though. He seems to have a pretty good instinct for what’s important.”
“I gather it was feeding time at the zoo?”
“Actually, yes.”
She chuckled. “Yeah, I can see that. That is the hard thing about keeping raptors. For them to live, another animal has to die.”
He nodded. “I supplement with fish and any roadkill I can. But nothing takes away from the fact these birds need live food most of the time.”
“I’ve known several big raptor rescue centers that incubate eggs. Doing a constant rotation of hundreds of incubating eggs at a time seems like the most economical answer.”
“I do that too. And somehow it makes it slightly easier.”
She nodded with understanding. “I know. Nice to keep mice. I found that very difficult though.” While talking, she put on the socks, and, with a hand on the headboard, she stood. She shook her head. “What is it about actually standing on your own two feet that makes the world suddenly a whole much easier place to live in?”
“We’re meant to be on our feet.”
“So true.” As he watched, she took several hesitant steps toward him. “Did you feel it out there?”
“Feel what?” His tone never changed; his gaze never left her progress.
“You know what.”
He lifted his dark-chocolate-colored eyes to study her face. Then gave a quick nod. “Yes, I felt it.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“No. But it’s not the first time we’ve been watched.”
“Did they follow me here, do you think?”
“I think they probably followed your tracks. The question is whether they saw you on the side deck this morning.”
She froze. “I never thought of that.”
“That little deck is partially hidden by one of the wind barriers. But depending on what angle they looked from, you might have told them you were here.”
“Shit,” she said softly.
“Yeah,” he said drily.
When she reached him, he held out an arm. She held his forearm, not surprised by the steely strength of the muscles under her fingers. At the same time, she was surprised. The man was solid. She’d expected him to be strong but not this rock-hard steel.
With his assistance, she made her way down the short hallway into a very large open kitchen, dining, and living space. She stopped and smiled with pleasure. “This is beautiful.”
“It’s been a labor of love,” he admitted. He helped her to a kitchen chair and pulled it out for her. “Sit down here, and see how that’ll be. If you need a pillow, tell me.”
She sat down on the hardwood chair, wiggled slightly, and said, “It might be just fine.”
He had already returned from the couch with a couple cushions. He pulled another chair from under the table, plopped the cushions down, gently lifted her feet, and put them on top of the pillows. “When you walk on them like you’ve just done, it draws all the blood to the surface, and they’ll swell because they’ve been injured. Let’s keep them raised as much as possible.”
“Thank you.”
“Not a problem. But as far as being watched, any idea who it is?”
“I’m afraid it’s the kidnappers.”
He spun slowly to look at her. “You’ve never said anything about that. Have you remembered what happened?”
“Bits and pieces of it are coming back. Nothing clear, nothing I could seriously identify. I remember cleaning out my mother’s place almost a week after her death, being emotional as she had just passed away, finding something that upset me in her belongings. So, when I got home, I wasn’t as aware as I could have been. I unpacked the car and stored a bunch of it in the root cellar and might even have put on the teakettle, when I heard something outside. I raced for the back door and was grabbed. I fought, but they pulled a long hood over my head and body. I was picked up, thrown over somebody’s shoulder, screaming the whole time, until somebody hit me in the head.” She shrugged. “I don’t remember much after that.”
Instantly he was at her side. “Do you know which side you got hit on?”
“Yeah,” she said drily. She pointed to the left side of her skull. “I do remember it bleeding quite a bit off and on. But it was the least of what they did to me.”
He nodded. “I had a doctor come in to look at you.”
“The woman?” she asked.
“No, an old Irishman was here first.”
She stiffened slightly at the description. “Did he say anything?”
“Only that he’d seen stuff like this before and hoped never to see it again,” Eagle said. He poured her a cup of coffee, brought it over to her, and set it on the table within her reach. “He said you were systematically tortured. The bruises were multiple colors, indicating you were hit repeatedly in the same spots. Just as you started to heal, you’d get slammed again.”
Her throat closed with the memories, pain choking her even now. “They wanted something from me that I couldn’t give.”
“What was it?
“I don’t really know,” she admitted. “They just kept asking, Where is it?”
He stopped and turned, leaning against the counter, holding a big hefty ceramic cup full of coffee. “Tell me more.”
“It’s still kind of fuzzy. I know they were looking for information about what happened back in Ireland when I was a child.”
“Ireland?”
She studied him carefully and nodded slowly. “I heard your friend’s accent. I have to admit I stayed silent while he was here. I was scared of him.” She gave a sigh. “I was afraid he was one of the kidnappers. They had accents too.”
“That makes sense. I had wondered if you were conscious through any of that.”
“I was briefly awake as I was being checked over. I forced myself to stay quiet because I didn’t know who you were. And because of his accent,” she admitted.
“I guess the accent was just a little too close to those you had already heard?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me what they were looking for.”
“I’m from Ireland originally.” She gave him a lopsided grin. “My whole family was involved in smuggling. I used to be the lookout as a young child. My father and his men had coves up and down the shores that they used. They landed in various places, unloading their goods, keeping them hidden until they could be sorted and divided up. My mother was part of the lookout crew.”
“What happened?”
“One day, when I was six years old, it all went to hell,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice. “I never did get an explanation from my mother. She would never talk to me about that time in my life. When I tried to ask, not only would she hit me to silence me, as I grew up, she would turn cold and distant, as in she wouldn’t talk to me for days. The minute I would bring up something about the old country, I would be punished with the silent treatment. I very quickly learned that the pain from withholding love was more effective than any physical punishment she could have inflicted.” She shook her head. “So I really don’t know what happened back then.” She picked up her coffee cup, slowly turning it in her hands, swirling the hot liquid faster. “I just know I lost my father and my siblings to the disaster.”
She raised her gaze. “I had three brothers. I was the youngest by twelve years. But I don’t remember any of them.”
“Did the kidnappers work with your father?”
“They didn’t say that specifically. I thought, from their questioning, that they were looking for someone who had betrayed them. That betrayal caused the death of my brothers and father. There was also mention of money, as if they didn’t get their share of the loot, but I don’t know what that means,” she said. “It was decades ago. They should have just moved on, like I did. But the one thing you need to know about the Irish is that they never forget. And these men, … my family included, lived on the edge of the law. They were smugglers. They didn’t believe the law applied to them. We all lived a secret life.”
“A lot of people in the world are like that.” He snorted. “But, if the kidnappers were cheated out of their share of a deal, it could be what they are looking for. But why now? Maybe they were looking for your mother, and, when they realized she was gone, they went after you.”
“They kept asking for answers,” she said, puzzled. “They wanted to know why I didn’t know what was going on. They wanted to know why I hadn’t seen it coming.” She shook her head at his confused look. “I was six at the time. My mother was around somewhere, but I had no idea what was happening that night. I didn’t even understand the logistics of what they were doing. I understood my parents and brothers were doing something illegal. But what illegal means to a child, well …” She raised her shoulders in a shrug. “How much of any event can a young child understand?”
“But your mother was a lookout too?”
“She was. But she always stayed inside the house.” Issa didn’t know how much to tell him. Why did any of this matter? But still he needed to know enough to get a clearer picture of these men and what they might have been after.
“Alone?”
She nodded. “Of course my mother would say she was with me all the time, and my father believed her. At the time, I thought that’s what her being with me meant. I would stay outside. She would go inside and wait. I didn’t realize until later that ‘being with me’ didn’t mean the same thing to everybody.”
“She went inside, and you were left outside? And this is how your family operated?”
“We’d do that every month,” she said. “Until that one fated night when everything blew up, and I have no idea what happened.” She shook her head. “I just know there was a huge fight down below. There were gunshots. There were multiple men involved, not just my brothers and father and those who worked with them. And, no, I don’t know who they were or how many there were. You have to remember, I was only six.”
“Your mother never said anything about it?”
Issa gave him a hard look. “I went through hell trying to get information from her. But she would never talk.”
“And what upset you in your mother’s belongings?”
She frowned. “Something in one of boxes I opened.”
“What was in it?”
She shrugged. “Envelopes. Lots and lots of envelopes. Along with that was a leather keepsake box from my mother. I didn’t get a chance to look at any of it clearly.” She stopped, then realized there was no point in keeping the information from him. It had all happened a long time ago. “I caught a quick glance of one of the documents about my father having a criminal record or criminal charges pending, but I didn’t read it so don’t know the details. At the time I didn’t think I was up to dealing with the loss of my mother and my memory of who my father was.”
“We need to look at those.”
“That was the plan all along. Escape, find the boxes, get revenge.”
“Revenge?” he asked carefully.
Her lips quirked. “At the time I thought the kidnappers had killed Roash and Humbug. The men took great delight in telling me how they’d tortured and killed all my birds.” She sighed. “And, if I’m honest, it was the thought of getting revenge that kept me going. I wanted to make them pay for what they did.”
“This might be a good time to tell you that I got a phone call last night from a woman saying she runs an animal reserve called Exotic Landscape.”
Issa tilted her head and studied his face. “Interesting. Do you know her?”
“No. Her name is Tabitha. She said something about Stefan. She had been in contact with Humbug herself.”
Issa stared at him. “That’s the second person who’s said they’ve spoken to Humbug. Is that possible?”
“You tell me. Stefan appeared to be almost resigned. So we have somebody who called himself a psychic, and someone who runs an animal shelter and called herself a sensitive, both talking to Humbug.”
“What did they say about Humbug?”
“He’s in trouble, and he needs you.”
She straightened, wanted to race outside to find Humbug, but she’d barely make it to the doorway. “We have to go help him.”
“That’s a nice thought. Any idea where he is?”
She turned to stare at him. “No. But, if you could drive me home, we could get those boxes and look for him too.” A frown whispered across her face. “That is, if anything is left of my cabin. It could be all burned to the ground. If so, it’s all gone.”
“Where do you live?”
“Denver,” she said. “Just south of the city.”
“That’s a good start because I live outside Denver too, but to the north.”
She frowned in confusion.
“You’re at my home, which means somebody transported you to a place within traveling distance from here.”
She stared at him. “I don’t know how many days I was on the road. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. I’m not really sure where I am now.”
“I highly doubt you came from more than one day’s walk away from here.”
She mentally thought about the distance she’d walked and said, “I traveled for several nights. Just not very fast.”
“Drink your coffee, and get some food down you, and, if you think you’re up for the drive, and you know how to get to your place, we’ll take a trip.”
She brightened. “Can we go now?”
He shook his head. “Food first.”
He brought out some homemade bread as black as the ace of spades and chock-full of seeds.
“That looks fantastic,” she said in delight.
“Good because it’s the only kind of bread I eat around here.” He placed the butter in front her, big slabs, and gave her a knife.
With him at her side, she worked her way through the first slice of bread and halfway through the second one. She put it down and shook her head. “Sorry. My eyes are bigger than my stomach.”
He looked at her for a long moment and nodded. “That’s fine. I thought you might be overdoing it.” He took the remainder of bread, broke it in pieces, and gave the rest to the two dogs lying quietly by the door.
She watched the pair enjoy the treat. Both were a decent size. One had more a sheepdog with a pinch of Rottweiler look to him, giving him a guard-dog air. The other one could have been a mix of dozens of breeds and appeared to be an overgrown pup. “I don’t remember seeing the dogs.”
“That’s because I kept them away, afraid they would hurt you just by their sheer size. I haven’t let them in your room. This is Gunner and Hatter.”
She smiled. “Will you let them come see me now?”
“Yes.”
At his command, both dogs approached her. The larger one laid his head in her lap and looked up at her with a sorrowful look that said he had wanted to come to her for days. The second dog nudged her hand, looking for his fair share of love too. She fell in love. She crooned to them gently as she said hi to both dogs. “Can they come with us?”
He shook his head. “They stay here with the birds.”
She didn’t say anything to that. “It would be great if I could go home.”
“Let’s just be clear about one thing,” he said as he grabbed his keys, shoving them in his pocket, and putting on a holster with a sidearm. “I will take you home to get the paperwork, but no way in hell are you staying there.”
She frowned. “Are you saying I’m a prisoner?”
He shook his head, his gaze clear and direct. “You’re here until this is over. You’re not leaving my side. Got it?”
She studied him for a long moment and found there was none of the anger and terror rippling through her that she’d had from the other men. This man wanted to protect her. The others wanted to harm her. This man was honorable; the others were full of hate. Eagle stood casually, confident in his decision. He wasn’t looking to terrorize her. Neither was he looking to comfort. But his statement was a fact. She could take it or leave it.
For the moment, she took it. She’d make up her mind about the rest later.
*
Outside there was a sense of urgency to the morning. The birds knew it. They’d never been wrong yet. He just didn’t know in what form the trouble would arrive. Before it did, he wanted to get her the hell away from here. Preferably where he could get answers. And, if she had answers back at her place, then that was where they were going.
She looked like a tiny waif in his extra-large clothing. He grabbed an old afghan, brightly colored, as if someone had used yarn ends, indiscriminate of one color palate. With that spread out over the truck passenger seat, he came back and scooped her up, ignoring her protests that she could walk on her own, and stepped outside on the front porch. He set the alarm and carried her out to the truck. He buckled her in and closed the door, walking around to the driver’s side. He drove to the gate, opened it, drove a bit farther, then closed and locked the gate behind them, leaving the dogs to guard his property.
He turned onto the highway. “You okay?”
“I’m fine, just surprised at how fast we ended up pulling out.”
“We need answers. Too much shit is going on.”
She nodded. “I’m not arguing. I’m just surprised. When I woke up this morning, I was thinking it was the day I needed to start living again.”
“What you need is to be back in bed. Hopefully we can pack you some clothes and get you back home again.”
She didn’t say anything for a long moment. And he realized the term home was probably what she was stuck on.
“You need looking after until the kidnappers are caught and until you’re back to a hundred percent.”
“Thank you very much for looking after me,” she said in a formal tone.
And it pissed him off. “I’d do it for anybody,” he said in a brisk tone.
Silence was her only response.
He hit the highway and floored the gas pedal. He wanted to get back as soon as possible. Preferably without being followed. More than that, he didn’t want anybody to see Issa beside him. He’d seen many cops, lawyers, and judges on the wrong side of the law so knew better than to trust anyone.
“Tell me about your mother,” he said. “It doesn’t sound like you had a great relationship with her.”
“I don’t know that it was bad, but it wasn’t a loving one. With no other family members, it was just the two of us.”
“When did you come to the States?”
“Soon after my father and brothers were killed.”
“Interesting.”
“Why?”
“It’s a long way to run,” he said quietly.
“Well, if we were running, she didn’t show it. I didn’t have much to do with her in the last few years. Sure, I saw her on weekends, but it seemed like we were almost strangers. She was always on social media. I couldn’t stand to be in town, and she couldn’t stand to be out of it.”
“If she was on social media, then she might have been found earlier, if anyone was looking.”
“I doubt it. She had Americanized her name when we came over here.”
“You each dealt with pain in your own way.”
She nodded. “Doesn’t everyone? What about you? Do you have any family?”
He shook his head. “My mother passed on ten years ago.”
“I’m sorry. What happened?”
He gave a bitter laugh. “I was in the military, in a Special Operations unit. She always worked with Doctors without Borders and traveled the world—dragging me along with her when I was younger. She had the biggest, most compassionate heart. Her life was her team. She went into a small village in Afghanistan where they held her and the whole group as hostages. Of course the United States doesn’t deal with terrorists and certainly doesn’t deal with hostage demands like that. We went in with a small unit to rescue them. They found out we were coming, and they shot her right in front of me. I had a few moments with her before she died. She said she would’ve done it all over again if it meant saving my life.” He shook his head, shaking off the memories that still brought tears to his eyes, plugging his throat with sorrow. “It’s one of the few times in my life that I let vengeance control my actions. When I walked off that mountain with my mother’s body in my arms, the other hostages by my side, no adult male was left standing.” His tone was harsh. “You see? You don’t know me. I’m just an asshole soldier, and you happened into my life. The fact is, I was having a weak moment.”
When she remained silent once more, he shot her a hard glance. If she showed one bit of pity for him, he would dump her on the side of the road. He couldn’t stand that. What he had said had been very true, yet he couldn’t leave somebody in trouble.
She shook her head. “You might like to show your prickly exterior, particularly when you talk about things that are very emotionally hard for you. Whatever. I know who you are on the inside.”
Now it was his turn to be silent.
He drove steadily, not wanting to get into any more emotional conversations, still in shock he’d brought up his mother’s death. That was so unlike him.
After another ten minutes, she said, “What about your father?”
“He walked out of my life when I was a toddler. He didn’t want me then, and I don’t want him now.”
“You never felt the urge to look him up?”
“No. He made his decision. No way I’d let him in my life now. I lost my mother, and that asshole of a father is no worthy replacement.”
“Hardly a replacement. How about another person in your life? You don’t always have to be alone.”
He looked at her. “Really? So how come you’re so alone? Or is there someone I don’t know about? A lover? A casual friend for the night? Or what about your mother? Did she remarry? Date anyone seriously?”
She shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. About my mother or me.” She played with her fingers. “I have no rings and no ring marks that I can see, and so far there aren’t any memories of anybody. And my mom spent all the time I was there visiting her on social media, pointing out stupid posts and stuff. If it wasn’t a meaningful conversation, I didn’t want to waste my time on her either.”
“Meaning, you wanted answers. She wouldn’t give them to you.”
“That probably sums it up. But I didn’t know about the two boxes she had. She could have given them to me at any time in the last ten years. It’s not like I’m a child anymore,” she cried out passionately. “What a way to find out, now that she’s gone.”
“But it was the easiest way for her. She didn’t want to deal with the guilt, the pain, or the fear of whatever is in those boxes.”
“I understand that. But neither did she want to explain it. To tell me her side of it. And that is something very difficult for me to understand.”
“Hopefully we’ll get the answers soon. Do remember where you live?” When there was no answer, he turned to look at her, his eyebrows raised in question.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember all of it,” she said in a small voice. “The whole drive I kept hoping it would just magically come to me.”
“Are there any routes you took all the time that you would know by routine?”
“The university to my mother’s. University to home. My mother’s to home.”
“That’s easy then,” he announced. “I’ll take you to the university, and we’ll start from there.”
She settled back with a bewildered smile. “I know it sounds silly, but how can anybody forget pieces of their life?”
“You were grazed by a bullet, shot in the shoulder, knocked unconscious, tortured, and terrorized for weeks. I’m sure you would like to forget lots of things as well. The mind is a funny thing. It’s got the capacity to forget what’s painful, and it’s also got the capacity to shut down anything that will slow your healing. The head injury could also have caused a temporary memory loss.”
“Oh.” After that she sank into the blanket, pulling it around her shoulders.
“Are you cold? Do you want me to turn on the heat?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”
But he could see from the tight way she clenched her fingers that she wasn’t fine. He pulled onto the off-ramp and into the parking area of a busy franchise coffee shop. He entered the drive-through, ordered two cups of coffee and several muffins. Once he paid for and collected his order, he pulled back out onto the road. “One of those is for you.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Not right now, but you might be later.” He lifted the small pop-up lid on the coffee cup and took a sip. He liked his coffee dead black. This one was perfect. He put it into his cup holder and made his way through the town. He knew where the university was, but he hadn’t been there for a long time. “I think we’re about fifteen minutes out from the university.”
She nodded but never said a word. As he glanced over at her again, he could see the blanket pulled tighter around her shoulders, up around her head. Was she hiding from anybody considering the truck or hiding from what was coming? He didn’t know. “Where are we likely to find Humbug?”
“I have no idea,” she said quietly. “I’m hoping he’s close to home, but I’m afraid he’s trying to find me or trying to follow me. He probably started in one direction and got himself thoroughly lost.”
“Are you sure you never heard of Stefan or this Tabitha person before?”
She shook her head. “No,” she exclaimed. “Not that I can remember.” She turned to look at him. “What about you?”
“Not until they called me,” he said cheerfully. “I’m not exactly sure what a sensitive is, in terms of animals either.”
“It generally means they can see, feel, hear, and sense an animal, either in the present or their spirit form.” She laughed at the surprise on his face. “I’m from Ireland, remember? So I’m more accustomed to some of that than you are over here.”
“Well, as you pointed out, I only believed in what I saw, touched, and felt, but, since you arrived, I have to admit the boundaries have been pushed.”
“And they’ll get pushed a lot more most likely,” she said quietly.
He pointed up ahead to the turnoff. “I’m heading out university way. Tell me when you start to recognize your surroundings.”
“At that big intersection up there is a roundabout. Take a left.”
Soon enough he was on the road heading back out again into the city when she said, “Stop. Turn right here.”
He swore and quickly shifted lanes. “I know you are probably struggling to remember, but a little more warning would help.”
“My mother’s place is just around the corner.”
Following her instructions, he turned into a large apartment building. He glanced at it and then at her. “Do you want something here?”
She stared at the building. “I don’t know. When I left, there were boxes Goodwill was supposed to pick up. I had everything else in my car. The place should be empty.”
“You stay here. I’ll go talk to the manager.”
She nodded.
He hopped out, locked the truck, and walked over to the small office. The manager was in. Eagle mentioned Issa’s mother and told the manager he was a friend. “I’m just checking to make sure all the boxes were picked up and the apartment is fine.”
The manager nodded. “It’s all good.”
They shook hands, and the manager gave him the deposit owing on the apartment. Eagle signed Issa’s name to the bottom of the receipt, handed it over, and returned to the truck. He searched his surroundings for anything that appeared suspicious, but he couldn’t see anything. Back in the truck he gave Issa the envelope and said, “Here is the deposit on your mother’s apartment. I assume she was renting it.”
Issa stared at Eagle in surprise. “Yes, I forgot about that,” she exclaimed. “I gather the things were picked up.”
“Picked up and checked off. So there’s absolutely no purpose in coming here again.”
Issa sat back quietly. He glanced at her and realized how difficult it must be. “I know it’s hard to see your mother’s place up for rent so soon, but we can’t stay here. Where would you have turned to get out of here?”
She pointed out the next few turns. He found himself back on a highway, heading to Issa’s cabin. She leaned forward as the excitement grew on her face. “Up there, at that intersection, take a right.” For the next ten minutes, he followed her instructions until she said, “Now we just stay on this road to my place.”
“And how long again?”
“Thirty minutes.”
He settled back for the ride, keeping an eye on the traffic. But the farther along they went, the less traffic they saw. When he realized he hadn’t seen anybody for a good fifteen minutes, he said, “How long have you actually lived here?”
She shrugged. “Five years, I think. Slow down,” she yelled suddenly.
He hit the brakes and saw a dirt road up ahead.
“This is it.”
He stared at the dirt road that barely passed for a driveway and the heavily wooded area that cloaked where their destination was. He took a turn onto the road and slowed to a crawl.
She gave him an apologetic look. “I was planning to get it fixed.”
He nodded. “A rough dirt road is not anything to be ashamed of.”
They traveled along the half-mile driveway until he saw a small cabin.
“Oh, my God, there it is,” she said. “For some reason, I was so afraid they would’ve burned it to the ground.”
“Not likely. That would’ve caused a hell of a fire. And we’re very short on rain this year.” He pulled up in front and came around to her side. There he unbuckled her, lifted her in his arms, and carried her to the front step. He set her down and then stepped back.
“I don’t see any of my birds,” she said quietly, her gaze searching the treetops and the fence line. She hobbled to the front door that stood partially open. He knew the inside would be trashed. He kept protectively at her side as they entered. She tried to flick on a light, but there was no power. She might have been cut off if her bill hadn’t been paid.
When he stepped inside, he saw a very plain, simple cabin with an old worn couch and chair on the left side and a Formica table from the eighties on metal legs on the right side. Everything was upside down and tossed to the floor. “Let me check to make sure no one is here.”
The place had that cold, empty, deserted feeling. He made a quick search anyway. Better to be safe. When he came back, she stood in the middle of the living room, dismay on her face. “Why would they destroy everything?”
“Because they were looking for something. Or maybe just to hurt you.”
She nodded. “Both, I believe.”
With his help, she navigated through the debris on the floor. She made it to the bedroom and stopped. “There’s not much in the way of usable clothing.”
He’d seen that for himself. They had dumped the drawers, emptied the closet, and poured something like paint and paint thinner over them. He wasn’t sure, but a whole collection of liquids had been thrown all around.
She stood in shock. He watched her shock turn to anger. And of that he approved. “Good. Get angry,” he said quietly. “Because otherwise you’d stay a victim, and victims are completely helpless.”
“I was a victim,” she said, her tone so low he could barely hear. “And you’re right. I was completely helpless. But I’m not now. They might’ve ruined a few clothes, and maybe nothing is salvageable, but this will not break me.”
She turned to study the bathroom, a simple affair with a small shower, toilet, and a sink. The few toiletries were tossed on the floor. She wandered to the kitchen, straightened up a chair, and sat down. He opened the fridge and slammed it closed.
She glanced at him. “You hungry?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I was wondering how long since you’ve been here. The food in there is bad.”
“I have no power. I’m not sure how long it takes food to turn in a sealed fridge.”
He shrugged. “Three to seven days.”
“I’m pretty sure I was held for a lot longer than that.”
“So, did they get the boxes?”
“That’s why I’m sitting down. I’m scared to look.” She pointed to the floor under his feet and said, “A root cellar is down there.”
He glanced at her in surprise and back at his feet. He studied the floor layout, but it took him several minutes to see the wooden handle completely flattened into the floor, its grain matched up. He bent down, lifted the handle, slowly raising it. “Do you have a flashlight?”
She shook her head. “I did, but I don’t know where it is now.”
He pulled out his cell phone, turned on the flashlight, and shot the beam down there. “Doesn’t look like they found this.” He heard the small cry of relief in her voice. He slowly made his way down the ladder to see several boxes of canned goods, some camping gear, and a crematory urn. Her mother? With her guidance, he found the boxes they were looking for. He asked, “Do you want your mother’s urn now?”
She shook her head. “No, we can leave that here for now.”
When he climbed out, he replaced the lid, leaving the cellar hidden again, and carried the two boxes out to the truck, putting them behind the seats. Then he came back and said, “I’ll take a quick look around outside, staying near the cabin, to look for Humbug. You stay here. Just give me five minutes, and then we’ll leave.”
He returned, shaking his head. She shook her head too. She stood and, with careful movements, walked to the front door. She still wore his big socks and oversize sweatpants.
He scooped her up, closed the front door, and carried her to the truck, noting her watchful scan of the area again. Once inside the cab, he reversed and headed back to the highway.
“Close to my place are a couple clothing stores,” Eagle said. “I suggest we get you something to wear.” Seeing her expression, he asked, “What’s the matter?”
“My Suburban,” she said quietly. “It’s gone. I hadn’t had a chance to unload everything. I was so concerned about getting the boxes to safety that I left my purse to get in the next load. Now it’s gone too—along with all my identification.” She stared at him in shock. “That means I can’t prove who I am.”