Fatal Tide - Iris Johansen [21]
Carolyn . . .
Friend. Teacher. Sister. Mother.
Dear God in heaven, what did they do to you?
“This is your room.” Kelby unlocked the door and turned on the light of the hotel room. “I'm next door in the adjoining room. Keep that door ajar. I want to hear you if you call out. Don't open the hall door at all.”
Carolyn lying still and cold.
“Okay.”
Kelby cursed beneath his breath. “You're not listening. Did you hear what I said?”
“Don't open the door. I won't. I don't want to let anyone in.” She just wanted to be alone. Close the world out. Close the pain out.
“I guess that's as good as it's going to get. Remember, I'm here if you need me.”
“I'll remember.”
He looked at her with frustration. “I don't know what to do, dammit. This isn't my— Tell me what I can do for you.”
“Go away,” she said simply. “Just go away.”
He didn't move, a multitude of expressions chasing across his face. “Oh, what the hell.” The door closed behind him and an instant later she heard him check to make sure it was locked.
He hadn't trusted her to lock the door, she realized vaguely. Perhaps he was right. She couldn't seem to keep two thoughts together.
But she had no problem with memories. The memory of Carolyn when she'd first met her. The memory of her at the wheel of her boat, laughing at Melis over her shoulder.
The memory of the broken, torn Carolyn lying on that slab in the morgue.
She switched off the light and sank down in the easy chair by the window. She didn't want light. She wanted to crawl into a cave and be alone in the darkness.
Maybe the bad memories wouldn't follow her there.
“Jesus, you're a hard man to find, Jed.”
Kelby whirled around to see a giant of a man coming toward him down the hall.
He relaxed as he recognized Nicholas Lyons. “Tell that to Wilson, Nicholas. He had to scour St. Petersburg for you.”
“I was having a few difficulties.” He added dryly, “But I didn't leave a trail of bodies behind me. Wilson tells me you've got yourself into a bit of first-class nastiness here.” He glanced at the door. “Is that her room?”
Kelby nodded. “Melis Nemid.” He moved a few feet down the hall and unlocked his door. “Come in and I'll order you a drink and fill you in.”
“I can hardly wait.” Nicholas grimaced as he followed him. “It might be safer for me to go back to Russia.”
“But less profitable.” He turned on the light. “If you're going to risk getting yourself killed, it might as well be for something worthwhile.”
“Marinth?”
“Wilson told you?”
Lyons nodded. “It's the bait that drew me here. I decided that you need the services of a first-rate shaman like me if you're going to try to mess around with Marinth.”
“Shaman? You're a half-breed Apache who grew up in the Detroit slums.”
“Don't bother me with truth when I'm concocting such a great lie. Besides, I spent summers on the reservation. You'd be surprised what I learned about magic when I applied myself.”
No, Kelby wouldn't be surprised. He'd realized Lyons was multifaceted from the moment he'd met him at SEAL training in San Diego. On the surface he was all friendly, casual charisma, but Kelby had never run into anyone more coolly efficient and savage when called into action. “What kind of magic?”
“White magic, naturally. We Indians have to be politically correct these days.” He smiled. “Want me to read your mind?”
“Hell, no.”
“What a spoilsport. You've never really let me show you my talents. I'll tell you anyway.” He closed his eyes and put his hand to his forehead. “You're thinking about Marinth.”
Kelby snorted. “That's an easy enough guess.”
“Nothing about Marinth is easy.” He opened his eyes and his smile faded. “Because it's your dream, Jed. Dreams are never simple. There are too many interpretations.”
“It's your dream, too, or you wouldn't be here.”
“I dream about the money it could bring. Hell, I don't know enough about Marinth for anything else. I didn't want to know. But now it appears you're going to have to fill me in.”
“Okay, you've got to know that word first broke on Marinth in the late 1940s.”
“Yeah, I