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Ariel’s breath caught in her chest. His hand was cold.
She removed her hand from under his and pulled out two business cards, using that time to recover her composure. She said, “In case you desire my services in the future.”
Dessaline smiled at her. His golden eyes made her uneasy. Her eyes were amber, a golden green, but nothing like his. Dessaline said, “What did you and the Agents discuss?”
“I told them what I do.”
Dessaline scooted his chair close to her. “What did you tell them about the other man? I know what you are, Ariel Baimby.” He motioned at her eyes, then his, “You are marabou, as am I, so do not lie to me. ”
Ariel felt her bladder weaken. She was no hero, and told them everything. They asked her questions about Agent Kincaid’s friends. Dessaline pushed her to tell them about this one who was far away. She said, “He is an Apache.”
Marc said, “An American Indian?”
“Yes.”
“I believe I saw something last year on the news about an Apache detective involved in a bit of trouble. He was from north of us, Pembroke Pines, I believe. Is he the same one?”
“Yes.”
Marc smiled at her, “Thank you. Ariel. You may go now.” He held up her business card, “And I know how to reach you if I ever need a pwofèt, a seer.” He leaned closer to her, touched her hand. Ariel felt her eyesight dim, like looking at things through smoke, and she heard a barely audible whimper escape her own lips. He said, “We know each other now, you and I.” Dessaline removed his hand.
Ariel rose and stumbled out to the sunlight, where her eyesight cleared. She walked away so fast that her heels clicked on the concrete. Ariel wanted a lot of distance between her and the two men. She thought again about the Apache detective she remembered reading about in the papers, the man who, with Detective Quick and a female Border Patrol Agent named Hunter Kincaid stopped a murderous criminal not far north of where she was. What was the Apache’s name? Ishtee. Ariel shivered and hurried to her car.
~*~
Randall Ishtee found a space at the front of the Lincoln County Medical Center in Ruidoso and parked his rental. He exited and smelled the scent of pines, felt the dry, cool air, and looked at a cloudless blue sky above Ruidoso. He missed this. More than he thought he would. Someone waved at him from behind the glass of the hospital doors, but he couldn’t make them out because of the glare.
The door opened and Jeffrey Chee waved him over, saying, “Been a long time, Randall.”
Randall entered the hospital, which always gave him an uncomfortable feeling; it had since he was a kid. “Good to see you.”
Jeffrey said, “Grandfather’s been asking every five minutes if you’re here yet.”
“How is he?”
“He’s just old. Something else is eating at him up here, though,” Jeffrey tapped his temple. He said, “When I found him at Whitetail, I
thought he’d fallen and broke something. He was lying on some pine logs and not moving. I called to him and he turned his head, but couldn’t get up, so next thing I thought was that he’d been drinking,” He looked at Randall, “You know, he did there for a while after his wife passed.”
“I know.”
“Anyhow, he wasn’t drunk or injured. Said Dahteste called him up to talk, so he hoofed it there and somewhere in all that, he had a vision, or several visions, he said.”
“And what did Dahteste supposedly tell him?”
“Grandfather said it was about danger coming,” Jeffrey looked at Randall, “for you and your friends.”
“What kind of danger?”
“He didn’t say. He kind of went limp and passed out again. I checked him over and didn’t find nothin’ broken, so I picked him up, put him in my pickup and brought him here.”
“Did he say anything on the way to the hospital?”
“Nope, just slept, looked like at the time. When they got him in the room, that’s when he said he needed to talk to you. Since then he’s been his old self, sharp as a tack.”
“But he didn’t hurt himself, or suffer from hypothermia?”
“Only mental stuff, but physically he’s okay. Well, for his age. You get to be a hundred and five, and anything can set you to the curb, you know?”
