Just the thought of it chilled me to the bone.
Dom was talking, and I got the impression I’d missed something. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”
“I said, I’ve still got your jacket and weapons. How do you want me to get them to you?”
“Where are you?”
“Right now? I’m at the L.A. office. I probably won’t be back in Santa Maria until sometime Wednesday.”
“Any chance you could drop my stuff by the hospital and leave it with Isaac? I’ll probably go see him again tomorrow.”
“Fine. I need to ask him a couple of questions anyway.”
“Thanks, Rizzoli. I owe you one.”
“You owe me several,” he said, without malice.
I hung up. Emma was waiting, her expression very serious, her eyes dark and fathomless. For a second I couldn’t remember what we’d been talking about before Dom’s call. Then she spoke.
“You know what Matty and Bruno are doing tomorrow, don’t you?”
“Em…” I started.
“The four of them made me swear not to tell, but you already know,” she said accusingly.
There was no point in denying it, so I just nodded. “I don’t have a lot of specifics. But Isaac gave me an overview of what’s probably going to happen. And I think I may have a way to keep everybody alive.”
Her jaw dropped in shock and she very nearly dropped her wineglass, recovering after a bit of wine spilled onto her leg. She looked at me and I swear I could see the hope rise in her. “You do? How?”
“By keeping Michelle alive. She’s the key. If he can’t kill her, Finn’s magic will backlash on him. If he dies, none of our guys have to.”
“And how do you plan on keeping her alive? The top mages in the world haven’t figured out a way to stop a bloodline curse.” I could tell she didn’t quite believe that what I was suggesting was possible.
I smiled, but it wasn’t a happy expression. “Don’t be too sure about that. Finn is related to the Garzas, but he survived the first curse he cast against those with Garza blood.”
“How?”
I told her my theory and how I planned to save Michelle. “I had to go through Chris and hire the Company to do it, but it’ll be worth the cost.”
“The Company.” There was bitterness in Emma’s voice when she said the name. Kevin had been affiliated with them for a number of years. She knew more about the Company than was probably good for her.
“They’re the only ones I know with the resources who’d be willing to take this kind of risk.”
“For a price.”
“Always,” I admitted.
As if on cue, my cell rang again. “Hello?”
“Graves, where are you?” Chris sounded pissy.
“At home, why?”
“There’s a private airstrip outside of town.”
“I know it.” I’d been there a few times, since John Creede kept Miller & Creede’s corporate plane there. It wasn’t a big place, but it was secure and well maintained, and the runway was just long enough for a small jet.
“Can you get there in a half hour?”
“Why?”
“We need to get the equipment out to wherever you’ve got my patient stashed, and I need to do some basic tests—typing, screening, the usual.
“Didn’t Dawna get you the hospital records? I know Michelle signed a release.”
“Do you have any idea how long it takes the average medical records department to process paperwork to outside providers? Trust me. This is faster. And this way I know it’s accurate. So I need to see the patient. Sooner is better if you want me to be able to get matching blood in time for tomorrow’s full moon.”
Made sense to me. “It’s quite a drive—” I began, but he interrupted me.
“We’re not driving. Hence the airstrip.” He hung up on me. Again. That particular bad habit of his was getting very old, very quickly.
28
Emma insisted on driving me. I didn’t argue. I went into the house just long enough to arm up, use the bathroom, and finger-fluff my hair, then followed her to her car.
It was a quiet ride to the airstrip, but not uncomfortable. Both Emma and I had a lot to think about. Waiting on the tarmac was a military-style helicopter. I had no idea what kind it was; all I knew was that it was big, green, and aggressive looking, with two engines, four rotors, and a fairly large cargo bay.
I jumped out the second Emma’s subcompact came to a full stop, then leaned back in just long enough to say thanks and grab my purse before slamming the door and hurrying away.
Chris was waiting inside the open cargo door of the helicopter, looking impatiently at his watch. “What took you so long?”
“Traffic.”
He grunted with displeasure. “I have other things I want to do yet tonight, Graves. We need to get moving. What’s our destination?”
“Edwards Lake.”
“Did you hear that, Rob?” Chris called over his shoulder to the pilot.
“Got it. Do you have an address, or do you just plan to direct me when we get there?”
I told him the address. Then I clambered on board and took one of a pair of empty seats, strapping on my shoulder harness.
The bay was large but crowded with cartons and wooden crates. A lot of the boxes were labeled, so I could see that they contained medical equipment. I supposed the crates were probably for Chris’s other client. I didn’t need or want to know what might be in them.
My inspection of my ride was interrupted by an unexpected arrival at the cargo door.
“Emma, what are you doing here?” Chris was shouting to be heard over the sound of the engines and the whup, whup of the rotors.
“I’m coming.” She pushed past him and climbed on board.
“Em,” I shouted, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m coming.” Her eyes flashed, her chin jutting out aggressively. Chris didn’t argue, just rolled his eyes and gestured for her to take the seat next to mine. Then he closed the door firmly, as if to ward off any other invaders.
“Did you get any details?” I asked, but Emma shook her head.
We didn’t talk after that. It was too loud. Besides, there was nothing to say. Plenty of experience had taught me that her talent as a clairvoyant wasn’t something to underestimate.
There was an abrupt, upward jerk, and we were airborne. I closed my eyes, concentrating on not giving in to panic and not tossing my cookies. Once upon a time I was very afraid of flying. I’ve worked on that with Gwen. Most of the time now, I do okay. But the jerky liftoff of a helicopter is always a problem, and it gets worse when I’m nervous—which I was. I forced myself to remain calm. I succeeded, but mostly because I just couldn’t bear thinking about the amount of crap I’d have to put up with from Chris if I didn’t.
Vanity? Oh, yeah. But this once, at least, it was useful.
Forty miles was a short hop for a bird as large as this one. I had no idea how fast we were traveling, but we slowed to a stop and landed after just fifteen minutes or so. I helped unload the equipment while Chris did his medical stuff with Michelle, who was perplexed but cooperative. I hadn’t explained anything to her or any of my team; I’d barely had time during the helicopter flight to text them to let them know I was coming,.
In less than ten minutes Chris was finished and the chopper was lifting off. Kevin, Emma, and I watched it go, hands shielding our eyes against the glare of chopper lights. Bubba was inside cooking dinner with Michelle. Talia had gone off duty awhile back and was out of sight, somewhere else in the house. At least I assumed she was. I hadn’t seen her.
Maybe it was the wind raised by the rotors, but I caught a scent on the air, faint at first but growing stronger quickly. Beside me, Kevin stiffened. In the house, I heard Paulie start barking frantically.
Emma sniffed delicately. “Does anyone else smell smoke?”
I turned, tracking the odor, and on the ridge saw a wall of fire. In the instant that I stood there with my mouth hanging open, it began to race toward us.
“Everybody into the vehicle. Now!” I shouted. “We’re evacuating.”
Kevin followed my gaze. He swore, then bellowed, “Move, people! It’s time to go!” His voice carried better than mine had; through the windows, I could see movement inside the house. Digging in his jeans pocket Kevin drew out a set of car keys, and the three of us ran around the house to the garage, where his SUV was parked. He started the engine with a roar as Bubba rushed out of the house with his gun drawn, a terrified Michelle at his heels, and Talia and Paulie close behind. Talia was naked and sopping wet from the shower, but she carried the holster with her Glock in it.
By the time we roared out of the garage, the fire had reached the driveway. The air was thick with smoke and soot, and it was hard to see. It was hard to breathe, and what air I could suck into my lungs stank of burning. Everyone was coughing, even the dog.
We flew down the road; crackling flames reaching for the vehicle like greedy fingers. The car lurched and bucked as we tried to outrun the blaze. If we could reach the dam, we should be safe.
Bubba was swearing under his breath, generating an impressively steady stream of profanity.
The fire chased us. No kidding. The road wound, and the fire wound with it, always staying slightly to our rear. At last we burst out of the woods, out of the flames, and onto the road that led across the dam at the base of the lake. The smoke and soot cleared just in time for Kevin to see a semi parked sideways in the middle of the dam, completely blocking the road. Sunlight reflected off the barrel of the rifle that rested at the ready on the truck’s hood. I couldn’t make out the shooter’s face.
“Shit!” Kevin downshifted and slammed on the brakes, pulling sharply on the wheel. His attempt at a tight bootlegger turn rocked the vehicle onto two wheels and killed the engine, leaving us sitting sideways across both lanes. I shoved Michelle to the floorboards and climbed awkwardly over her to open the door and get out. Using the vehicle as a shield, I aimed my backup Colt at the threat in front of us. The fire continued to move inexorably forward, though it was considerably slowed by the lack of fuel out on the concrete dam and by the presence of water on one side.
