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A few minutes later Idris stepped out the back door then took off for the start of the course at a brisk jog. I could only see parts of the circuit from my vantage, but every glimpse of him revealed driven determination as he assaulted the obstacles. Muddy and sweat-soaked, he finished in half the time I’d taken, yet instead of flopping on the grass like a sensible person, he immediately began the movements of the shikvihr. I watched in fascination—and a mad helping of awe—as he executed the shikvihr in a manner akin to an insanely complex martial arts kata, his face drawn tight as he concentrated. Like me, he couldn’t actualize the sigils on Earth, but his crisp, fluid motions left no doubt which sigil he traced at any given time.
My respect for him ratcheted up several degrees. He’d have the full shikvihr in no time at all. He’d do it in Mzatal’s realm on top of the basalt column with the terrifying abyss through its core—and he wouldn’t bat an eye. He’d already looked into a different kind of hell when he witnessed the brutal murder of his sister.
Idris finished the ninth ring, raked a hand through his hair, and flicked sweat away. To my amazement, he ran to the beginning of the course to start again. I rolled over and pushed to my feet. For an outrageous moment, I considered following Idris’s example and doing the course one more time. Fortunately, reason prevailed and reminded me that killing myself by heatstroke would be counterproductive. With that decided, I headed to the house—sweaty, muddy, and generally gross.
For everyone’s sake, I went straight to the bathroom and took a nice hot shower. Dressed and clean, I came back out to the kitchen to find Bryce at the table with the laptop and Pellini pouring a cup of coffee. Mouth-watering smells wafted from the oven.
“You made the coffee?” I asked Pellini.
He nodded. “You drink coffee with chicory,” he said. “I love that stuff.” He slid a glance to me. “Not sure you could’ve convinced me to stay here if y’all didn’t have decent coffee.”
“It’s the food of the gods,” I said then peeked into the oven, thrilled to see biscuits baking. “Did you make those from scratch?” I asked.
Pellini leaned back against the counter. “Are you kidding? No, there was one of those biscuit dough-in-a-tube things in the back of your fridge.”
I had zero memory of buying anything like that, but that didn’t mean squat anymore in this household. I poured myself a cup of coffee and added my usual near-lethal amounts of cream and sugar. Once settled at the table, I idly watched Bryce skim through local news reports.
When the oven timer dinged, Pellini removed the biscuits and slid them onto a plate. He set them in the middle of the table along with butter and jam, and not ten seconds later Jill and Steeev entered through the back door.
“I need sustenance for my very last day at work,” she announced as she dropped a file onto the table. She purloined two biscuits before snagging an empty chair next to Bryce, and damn if his face didn’t light up every time she walked into the room. I clung to my faith in him that told me he would never press for more friendship than she was comfortable with, but I didn’t miss the very warm smile he offered her. I also didn’t miss that Steeev swiped two biscuits for himself.
“Last day, though not a full day,” Steeev told her with a hint of the glare Jill had mentioned at the ice cream shop.
She grinned around a mouthful of biscuit and jam. “Wah owah ah mof.”
His glare eased. “Yes, one hour at most,” he said, impressing me with his ability to translate biscuit-speak.
“You got any plans for what to do while you wait to pop out that kid?” Pellini asked. He split a biscuit down the middle and slathered jam on each side.
Jill chewed and swallowed. “Oh, yes,” she said with a smile. “I have plans. I have years of TV to catch up on or rewatch. I’m going to make our Internet connection scream for mercy with all the quality entertainment I intend to stream.”
Pellini let out a low chuckle. “That’s an enviable goal.”
Jill got to her feet and glanced at the clock. “Unless I have to waste time hunting down my captain, I expect to start my movie marathon by ten a.m.” She picked up the file, then she and Steeev headed out the front door.
Bryce turned the laptop so Pellini and I could see the screen. “Check it out.”
A police sketch of Jerry Steiner glowered at me from a local news website. Right next to it was a driver’s license photo of the man himself. I made a face and flipped him off.
“With the Farouche investigation, he’s one face among many,” Bryce said. “But doing that shit to Amaryllis put him in the spotlight for all the good ol’ boys. He’d better keep his head down.”
Pellini peered at the images. “Too bad he’s so common looking. Hardass, but nothing makes him stand out.”
Bryce pulled the computer back to face him. “One of his greatest assets. He could blend in, and his mark wouldn’t notice him until it was too late.”
All three of us jerked our heads up at a sharp crack from the direction of the highway.
“That was a high-powered rifle,” Bryce said, alarm rising in his eyes. “It’s not hunting season, is it?”
“Only for wild hogs,” Pellini said, brows drawing together. “Open season on them because of overpopulation.” But doubt threaded through his voice.
Bryce pushed back from the table and ran for the computer
room with me on his heels. We’d only heard one shot. Maybe it hadn’t been a gunshot at all. Sure. Three people in the room with firearms experience, and all of us wrong?
Bryce didn’t bother sitting, simply wiggled the mouse and pulled up the security camera playback for the front of the property. The view of the highway and gate popped up on the screen, and Bryce rewound the image until we saw Jill’s car pass through the gate as it opened then pause at the end of the driveway. A few seconds later a woman breezed by on a motorcycle, and Jill’s car moved forward in a right turn onto the highway.
The instant the front tires touched the asphalt, the car lurched hard to the right then veered off the highway and beyond camera range. Bryce let out a curse and raced from the room. On the edge of the screen a black van came into view, but I only caught a glimpse before I sprinted after Bryce.
