"Anywhere that is away from me," Bradley said.
Franklin started to say something, then looked at both of us in turn, and finally at Bradley. "I won't forget this, Agent Bradford."
"Nor will I, Agent Franklin."
Franklin turned abruptly and walked out, hands sliding over his clothes When he was out of earshot, I said, "He doesn't seem to like you."
"Making a new division for preternatural crimes wasn't a popular move with everyone. Until now the Investigative Division has been handling them."
"Gee, and I thought the FBI was above such petty disputes."
Bradley laughed. "God, don't I wish."
"This is a really, really fresh scene, Bradley. I don't mean to tell you your job, but shouldn't we be searching the area for the creature?"
"We did a ground search, turned up nothing. We've still got the helicopter up. We also sent off for geology maps of the ranch in case there's a cave we missed."
"Would a geology survey cover man-made ruins?" I asked.
"What do you mean?"
"This area of the country is supposed to be lousy with ruins. Just because nothing's visible from above ground doesn't mean there won't be something buried. A room, or even a kiva."
"What's a kiva?" Bradley asked.
"A sacred underground room for ceremonial magic. It's one of the few things that most of the southwestern tribes, or pueblos, have in common."
Bradley smiled. "Don't tell me you're also an expert on Native American religious practices, too?"
I shook my head. "Nope. I had a brief overview in my comparative religion class in college, but I didn't take Native American as one of my electives. Knowing that kiva do exist and their general use pretty much exhausts my knowledge of the southwestern tribes. Now if you need to know details about the Sioux sun worshipping rituals, those I remember."
"I'll check with the surveying company and see if they mark man-made structures."
"Good.
"The locals called in some tracking dogs. The dogs wouldn't come in the house. They refused to track."
"Were they bloodhounds?" I asked.
Bradley nodded. "Why?"
"Bloodhounds are a very friendly breed. They are not attack dogs. Sometimes on the preternatural bad stuff they refuse the trail. You need some trollhunds."
"Troll-what?" Bradley asked.
"Trollhunds. They were originally bred to hunt the Greater European Forest Trolls. When the trolls went extinct, the breed almost died out. They're still a rare breed, but they are the best you can find for tracking preternatural bad guys. Unlike the Bloodhound they will attack and kill what they trail."
"How do you know so much about dogs?" Bradley said.
"My dad's a vet."
Edward had reentered with Olaf and Bernardo at his back. He'd heard the last. "Your dad, a doggie doctor. I didn't know that."
He was looking intently at me, and I realized that Edward didn't really know much more about me then I did about him.
"Are there any trollhunds in this area?" Bradley asked it of Edward.
He shook his head. "No. If there were I'd know it. I'd have used them."
"You knew about troll-whatsits, too?" Bernardo asked.
Edward nodded. "If you're a varmint hunter, so should you."
Bernardo frowned at the criticism, then shrugged. "I do more bodyguard work than critter killing these days." He was looking at everyone, everything but the table and contents.
"Maybe you should go back to guarding other people's bodies," Edward said. I don't know what I'd missed, but Edward was angry with him.
Bernardo looked at him. "Maybe I should."
"No one is stopping you."
"Damn you, … Ted," and Bernardo walked out.
I looked at Olaf, as if for a clue to what had just happened, but Olaf had eyes only for the remains. His face was transformed. It took me a few seconds to realize what the expression on his face was, because it was wrong. It did not match what was happening. He stared down at the remains of that woman with enough raw lust in his eyes to burn down the house. It was a look that should have been saved for privacy, to be shared between your beloved and yourself. It was not a look for public consumption, when you were looking at the bleeding remains of a woman you did not know.
Staring into Olaf's face, I was cold, cold all the way down to my Nikes. Fear, but not of the monster, or rather not of that monster. If you had given me a choice between whatever was doing these killings or Olaf, right that moment I wouldn't have known who to pick. It was sort of like choosing between the tiger and the tiger.
Maybe I was standing too close, I don't know. He just suddenly turned his head and looked full at me. And just like I'd known in the car what Bernardo was thinking, I knew that Olaf was looking for a star in his own little fantasy.
I held my hands up, shaking my head, and backed away from him. "Don't even go there, … Otto." I was beginning to really hate all these aliases.
"She was almost exactly your height." His voice had a soft, almost dreamy quality.
Drawing a gun and shooting him was probably overkill, but I certainly didn't have to stand there and help his imagination. I turned to Bradley, "Someone said there were other bodies. Let's go see." Five minutes ago, you'd have had to drag me into the next chamber of horrors. Now I grabbed Bradley's arm and half pulled him, half let him lead me deeper into the house. I could feel Olaf's gaze against my back like a hand, hot and close. I didn't look back. Nothing ahead of me could be worse than watching Olaf paw through the woman's remains, knowing that he was thinking of me while he did it.
33
BRADLEY LED ME to a door that had been half-torn out of its hinges. Something big had pushed through here. Bradley had to use both hands to get the door to one side. It seemed to have settled into the carpet, wedging itself. He jerked back, and I jumped, pulse in my throat.
"Damn splinters." He held up the palm of his gloved hand and there was a small crimson spot on the plastic. He jerked the glove off. The splinter seemed to have come off with the glove, but it was bleeding freely.
"Some splinter," I said.
"Dammit." Bradley looked at me.
"You better let somebody look at it."
He nodded, but didn't turn to go. "Don't be insulted, but not everyone is happy with me forcing you back on this case. I can't leave you alone in here with evidence. If there were ever questions raised, it would be hard to explain."
"I've never pocketed evidence from a crime scene in my life."
"I'm sorry, Anita, but I can't take the chance. Will you follow me out to the ambulance?"
He was having to cup one hand under the other to catch the blood so it didn't reach the carpet. I frowned, but nodded. "Fine."
He started to say something, then turned and walked back to the living room. We were about a fourth of the way through the room when Edward asked, "Otto wants to open the table cloth and see what's inside."
"I'll send the photographer and Agent Franklin in to oversee it." Bradley kept going for the door having to hurry a little to keep his own blood from contaminating the scene.
Neither Edward nor Olaf nor the uniform that had magically appeared to watch them fondle the evidence, asked how he'd hurt his hand. Maybe no one cared.
I followed Bradley across the gravel turn-around to the ambulance. There I were still too many people mulling around outside. Shouldn't they be out searching for the creature? It wasn't my job to tell them their job, but this was the freshest crime scene yet, and there just didn't seem to be enough frantic activity to suit me.
Bradley sat down at the end of the ambulance and let the techs treat his wound. Because it was a wound. Splinter, my ass. He'd stabbed himself. I tried to be a good girl and just stand there, but I think my impatience showed, because Bradley started talking.