“They are. The developers scam people for every buck they can get.” Murray arched her back, then pulled off her clothes to reveal a lovely two-piece tankini suit. The brilliant cobalt set off her dark skin and eyes. She shook her hair out of the ever-present braid. Loose, it hung down to her butt, a little longer than mine, but her hair was so straight that it gleamed in the sunlight.
I stared at her, unable to wrench my eyes away. “You look absolutely amazing, Mur.” And breathtaking she was: tall, curvy, sturdy, with well-muscled legs and arms.
She swatted a bee away from the bread. “Thanks. I thought I might as well get some swimming in while we’re here. Yoga class has given me a lot of extra energy.”
“I was stiff as a board this morning. I sure hope I end up enjoying it as much as you do,” I grumbled.
She settled on the blanket next to me. “Give it time. You just started. Your body has to adjust to the movements.”
A rustling through the grass told us Jimbo had returned. He was carrying a platter of fried chicken. “We’ll eat, then you can do your hoodoo thing and see if you can find out what happened to Scar.”
The smell wafting up from the plate was incredible, and the saliva began to churn in my mouth. As I bit into the drumstick, a wave of flavor rolled down my throat that almost brought tears to my eyes. “I’ve never tasted chicken so good. You say your grandmother taught you to cook like this?”
“Yep,” he said. “Last time I visited her, she gave me her recipe for fried chicken and catfish. I wrapped up some drumsticks and thighs for you to take home to the kids.”
Murray gave him a smile, her chin covered with chicken grease and butter from the French bread. “Well, you were a good student, I’ll say that much.” We polished off the entire platter along with most everything else I’d brought. I passed around the wet-wipes.
“Oh man, another bite and I’ll explode.” I dried my hands on a paper towel. “Jimbo, tell us a little more about Scar. What’s his real name? How long have you known him?”
He settled back against the ground, hands under his head. “I don’t know what Scar’s real name is. The boys in the valley have a code when it comes to information. If it’s not offered, don’t ask. Some of the guys out there are carrying baggage from the past that they don’t want to talk about. Scar showed up four or five years back, said he was from the Midwest and had been on the road since 1986. We’re good buddies, but he’s never volunteered anything about his past. He’s a good guy, though . . . good-hearted.”
Murray nodded. “I guess tracing him by his social security number would be out of the question?”
Jimbo snorted. “And just who’s going to have that information? Scar was what you call an entrepreneur.”
I broke in. “But you told me he just bought a thirty-thousand-dollar bike. How did he get the money to pay for it?”
“The boys in the valley don’t have regular jobs, Em,” Murray said. “Most are legit, I think there are a several good mechanics out there who make a pretty penny and I know there are at least two jewelry makers and a fix-it guy. Others earn a few bucks through odd jobs and whatnot. And still others . . . You’re right, though. Thirty thousand dollars is a lot of money to be dropping on a motorcycle when you don’t have any visible means of income.”
Jimbo sat up and expelled a loud sigh. “Will you two get off it? I don’t know where his money came from, but I do know he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Scar loves his girlfriend. He likes the idea of having a family and kids, and he just wants to hang out and have a beer with his buddies in the evening. See what you can find, okay?”
Obviously this was getting us nowhere. I stood up and dusted off my jeans. “Guess I’ll get started. It’ll do me good to walk off some of this food. Where does Scar usually hang out?”
Jimbo pointed to a path that cut around the lake. “His favorite fishing spot is back there, through the woods and over by that little spit that comes out of the trees there.”
It looked to be close to half a mile. An easy hike. “Have you gone out there looking for him? Maybe he showed up, fell, hit his head on something.”
The big biker hung his head. “O’Brien, I’ve scoured everywhere else on this property, but for the past couple of weeks, that path’s given me the creeps every time I go near it. Never bothered me before but now, the minute I get near, I turn tail and hoof it back to the house. I wanted to check it out but I just . . . get scared out of my wits. I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t like it.”
Jimbo was, for the most part, ESP-blind, so whatever was out there was either unusually strong, or his imagination was playing tricks on him. Neither possibility reassured me. “Okay, why don’t you clean up this mess. If I’m not back in half an hour, come find me.”
He checked his watch, then nodded as I turned to Murray. “Ready to go?”
She shook her head. “Give me a few. I ate like a pig and I’ll explode if I move around too much. You want to wait for me?”
“Slacker! I’ll just go all by my lonesome and you can catch up.” I tossed her a grin, then flounced off in the direction of the path.
“I’ll be along in a bit—don’t go too far until I get there,” Murray called after me.
The area near Miner’s Lake was one step away from deep wilderness. Cedars and fir grew thick in the hushed shade of the forest, their tall trunks buttressed by dense thickets of waist-high deer ferns and thick shrubs of drooping salal, its leathery, shining leaves and clusters of waxy indigo berries ready to gather for wine and jelly making.
I stopped by a fallen log covered with the ever-present moss and mushrooms that permeated the area, and settled myself on the end, where I drifted into a light trance, touching on the droning of bees, the bird song that echoed through the trees, the gentle burble of a nearby creek. Sunlight beat down through the forest canopy, dappling the ground with the sparkles of peridot light that filtered through the leaves.
As my thoughts came to rest, I began to notice an undercurrent of energy. The welcoming path ahead suddenly loomed daunting and shadowed. I tried to pick out the chord that disrupted the otherwise tranquil woods, but it was almost as if the land wore a thin veneer of energy, much like a blanket of weaving colors that hid its secrets from prying eyes.
Unsettled, I wondered if I should turn back. No, I’d promised Jimbo I’d find out what I could, and Murray would be joining me soon. Surely, if there was anything out here, I’d see it before it saw me. Inhaling deeply, I reached out, searching for any sense of human life nearby, focusing on the copse, breathing slowly.Slow, go slow, deeper, a little deeper. And then, before I could shield against it, a presence intruded.
Thick tendrils of energy rumbled up from the soil. I tried to pull away but the vines coiled around my conscious thoughts, dragging my focus deep into the mulch of the forest floor. I couldn’t think, couldn’t break away, couldn’t do anything but succumb to the encroaching force. On the verge of passing out, I sought for a handhold, an anchor to ground me into the tangible world.