Page 10 of The Woman Who Couldn't Scream
“I want to know what’s happening.” She sounded like a fretful child.
One hand on the wheel, he reached around and clicked a switch. The police scanner blared to life, then faded, then blared, then faded, but from the jumble of voices, the news didn’t sound good. “In these mountains, it’ll be in and out, mostly out.” He reached back again and clicked it off.
“Whydo you have a police scanner?”
“I like to keep track of my girlfriend.”
Her mind clicked along to the next thought. “John Terrance has a police scanner, doesn’t he?”
“Most likely.”
“We could… do something with that information. Something… sneaky. Fill the scanner with misinformation.”
“Isn’t that as likely to confuse your men as John Terrance?”
“We have a secure channel… you didn’t hear that.” She took a couple of breaths and felt herself relax.
“John Terrance will likely figure out what you’re doing.”
“Yes, but maybe that’ll help us catch him and even if it doesn’t, won’t he be frustrated?”
Stag laughed, warm and deep.
She had a plan. A stupidly obvious easy plan, and Stag had helped her figure it out. “Remind me later to tell my cops.”
“I will. I’ll even make up some fake stories for you.”
“That would be lovely.” She looked at his profile and appreciated how intently he concentrated. He drove well, not like Moen on the chase, but smoothly, competently, speeding around corners as fast as he could without tossing her from side to side.
The car’s interior was nice. Really nice, with a computer console that looked vaguely like aStar Trek Enterprisecontrol panel. From the latest movie. The new-car scent made her dizzy. Or maybe it was the bleeding. Or maybe it was Stag’s scent. Whew. She closed her eyes. She thought she dozed.
John Terrance and his son… bullies, the kind who liked to harass women on the street, to fight when they were the only ones with firearms. Worse, they made meth, sold it all over Western Washington, were responsible for all the misery that addiction caused… and made a fortune. They owned the fast car, they owned the speedy boat, they escaped… but now John Jr. was dead. No one would mourn him except his father, and his father would mourn. His father would wage war on her and her men…
Kateri had a vision of John Terrance Sr., skinny, dirty, leering, eyes aflame, screaming he would come after her, rape her, hurt her, make her sorry. She heard his voice in her head… “I’ll leave you more deformed than you already are!”
She came awake on the whiplash ofthatnightmare.
Stag must have been watching, because he asked, “How is Rainbow?”
Kateri breathed to calm her racing heart.
He repeated, “How’s Rainbow?”
“Rainbow?” Kateri tensed, fought the drug, then inevitably relaxed again. “Dying. She’s dying.” Oh, God. Percocet helped the pain in her ribs. It did nothing for the pain in her heart.
He glanced at her. “The story I heard is that since meeting the frog god, you can bring people back from the brink.”
Because Stag was Native American, she was comfortable talking with him about the gifts the frog god had forced upon her. “With her, I can’t. There’s no elegant way to do it. I have toblastlife into a dying body. I’ve only done it a couple of times—once was my dog—and only when it was almost too late. If I blasted life into Rainbow, I’m afraid it’ll be like blowing too hard on a dying flame. It will flicker out.”
“You’re afraid to try.”
“Don’t accuse me. Try to understand—I can’t take the chance I’ll kill her. She brought me into this world.”
He’d been kind of guiding the conversation, giving her something to think about besides pain and worry. Now he was clearly riveted.“What?”
“Rainbow delivered me. She arrived in Virtue Falls, a kid with a backpack and a woven blanket and nothing else to her name, and of course my mother took her in. My mother was always taking in strays…”
“Including your father?” Stag slowed the car.
