“So Jimbo’s prints were on the brick that came through your window? If I find him before the cops do, he’ll never throw another rock at anybody’s house.” The look on his face was volcanic. “He’s probably the one who tore up your shop, the slimeball.”
“Don’t you go getting yourself in trouble because of me,” I said.
“If you’re going to worry about anybody, worry about Jimbo.” Joe noticed I was shivering. The nights were still chilly, and rain was on the way again. He wrapped his jacket around my shoulders.
Touched, I leaned my head against his shoulder for a moment. He slid his arm around me, and we sat there quietly, staring at the indigo ink that stained the evening sky. Finally, I sighed and gently pulled away. “I wonder if Jimbo really conked Norma Roberts on the head. He sure didn’t want to take no for an answer when I rejected him, but I chalked it up to boorish, drunken behavior. Now I’m not sure.”
“Have you seen him since then?”
“Nope.” I shook my head. “I’m hoping by the time this camping trip is over that he’ll be in jail and that the police will have figured out the Roberts case.”
Joe took my hand and held it between his own. “Call me day or night when you get scared. I’ll always come to help you. Even if you and Andrew get married, even if you decide you want to live the rest of your life in seclusion, I’ll be your friend, Em.” He lifted my hand to his lips.
Trembling from more than the cold, I grazed his cheek with my fingers. “You are a good man, Joe Files. And I’ve got to round up Kip and get home.”
As we drove away from the station house, Kip casually mentioned that he liked Joe. “Andrew’s nice, but Joe understands kids better,” he said. And I knew, without a doubt, that he was right.
ONCE WE GOT home, I finished loading the dishwasher while Kip played computer games. I was folding the dish towel when Kip yelled for me. Thinking he’d hurt his hand again, I raced into the living room.
He was standing in front of the étagère, and I joined him. “What’s going on, kiddo? You see a ghost?” My question wasn’t entirely rhetorical; Kip was exceptionally psychic, and we’d had quite a few experiences with spirits.
He shook his head, but his eyes were trained on the dragon. “Mom, something’s weird about that statue. I saw the dragon turning by itself. I was at the computer, and it turned and looked at me.”
Hell. Not again. If Kip saw it, too, that meant I wasn’t imagining things. Not that our lives were exceptionally normal to begin with, but moving statues brought up images of bad B-grade horror flicks. I leaned in to get a closer look. Yep, it had changed position again. I darted over to the desk and flipped open my steno book. Sure enough, it had moved, and nobody else had access to my key.
“Did I say the eyes were glowing?” Kip’s voice trembled.
“No, you didn’t. What color did they change to?” I already knew the answer.
“Bright red. I’m kind of afraid,” he said. “Statues aren’t supposed to do that.”
“No, statues aren’t supposed to do that, are they?” I laid my hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay to be afraid, Kip. I get afraid sometimes, too. Our fear helps us know when it’s time to be careful. Now, you step back over by the computer.” When he had moved aside, I unlocked the door to the étagère and cautiously reached in to pick up the dragon. The statue felt bone cold as I lifted it out of the case and closed the cabinet.
Settling down on the sofa, I cradled the jade in my hands. “Kip, do me a favor. Run upstairs to my jewelry box and get my crystal pendulum.” I had a quartz crystal necklace that doubled as my divining pendulum. Kip raced off; after a moment, he breathlessly galloped down the stairs and handed me the necklace. I set the dragon on the table.
“I want you to feed the cats while I do some work here.” He hesitated; I could see the interest sparking in his eyes. “Kip—” I warned. With a nod, he was off to the kitchen, a chorus of meows following him.
Squinting, I tilted my head and examined the dragon. The fact that an inanimate object was doing the cakewalk in my china cabinet was, on its own, enough to worry me, but those glowing red eyes… Yep, they were a bad sign all right, be the bearer human, animal, or dragon statue. For some reason, red eyes usually equaled mean beasties in the astral realm, and I’d been there, done that, wasn’t thrilled about a replay.
“So you can move on your own, huh? Okay, let’s see what you’re made of.” I propped my wrist firmly on the arm of the sofa so that the necklace hung over the edge of the table and set the dragon beneath the crystal. Gingerly, I let the necklace swing from the chain until it slowed and then stopped. “Show time. What’ve you got, big boy?”
As usual, the pendulum started slow, barely moving, but then the chain jerked in my hand and began to swing from side to side as if some invisible force had taken hold of it and was twisting it in circles. Startled, I tightened my grasp as the pendulum speeded up until it was flying in counterclockwise circles.
Gasping, I found myself catapulted into a secluded courtyard. I could see nothing beyond this small enclosure, but the smell of white ginger filled the air, and jasmine flowers peeked from behind the thick hedgerow of vines that bordered the tiled patio. In the center of the patio rested a marble block. A young man of Chinese descent bent over the pedestal, his hands bound, his neck stretched across the marble. He looked to be about twenty years of age. A tall, lean figure shrouded in a black robe loomed over the youth; he carried a long, narrow sword.
To the left, on a gleaming throne, an emperor watched over the scene in the courtyard. He wore a yellow robe decorated with brilliant Mandarin patches, and embroidered on the patches were gilded celestial dragons. The dragons stretched across the back of the robe and down the sleeves. In one hand, he cupped the statue of the jade dragon. With the other, he motioned to the shrouded figure. The executioner swung his sword high. I cringed as the blade hovered over the young man, who cried out in a shrill voice, words I couldn’t understand. His eyes raged and as the sword descended, a swirl of smoke appeared in the courtyard, a bloodred mist that seeped into the jade dragon. The young man smiled as the executioner’s blade kissed his neck.
Boom. The vision disappeared, and I was still on the sofa, breathless and disoriented. The pendulum was spinning faster now, burning my hand. I reached for the crystal, hoping to put a halt to the crazy carousel ride it was on, but before I could do so, a snap sent the quartz cabochon flying across the room. It landed against the opposing wall with a thud. Shocked, I stared at the limp fourteen-karat gold chain that dangled from my hand. The ends had melted, like wax. It was only then that I became aware of a stinging sensation in my palm; the skin had been rubbed raw by the whipping force exerted by the metal. I set the statue on the table and cautiously retrieved the pendant. The quartz cabochon was fractured in a dozen places.
“Damn it! That was my favorite necklace!” A little light-headed from the sudden rush of energy, I leaned forward to observe the statue. What in hell was going on? And had I really just witnessed an execution? I felt queasy; the vision had ended just as the blade touched the young man’s neck, but my imagination filled in the blanks all too easily. What was going on? This was the second vision I’d had in two days. Were they images out of the past, giving me a glimpse of the history of the jade dragon? Or were they products of my overactive mind, created in a desperate attempt to bring some understanding to the situation?
Whatever the case, the dragon was harboring some pretty powerful energy. I picked up the figurine again and ran my fingers over it, checking it thoroughly. No wires, no hidden compartments where a motor might be placed, no breaks, no hinges. Preoccupied, I locked it back in the cabinet as Kip returned to the living room.
He looked at me expectantly. “Did it really move?”
I gave him a wary look. “Yeah, it moved. Kip, did you notice anything in particular right before or right after? Anything out of the ordinary?”
He scrunched up
his face and finally shook his head. “I just felt like I was being watched.” He looked at my pendant. “What happened? Your necklace got broke.”
“Broke is right.” I sighed. “I don’t know why it snapped. Maybe the chain was just getting old.” My explanation seemed to calm him down, but in my heart, I knew that wasn’t the truth. Whatever energy made my necklace break was connected to the dragon. Where on earth had Daniel Barrington gotten the thing?
I had to find out what I could about its history, and one of the best ways to do that would be to consult the expert in Glacier. Time to give her a call and hope she’d be home this weekend. I found the list Mr. Hodges had given me and picked up the phone to call Mary Sanders. As I introduced myself, it was clear that Harl had called ahead like she said she would. I asked if I could bring the dragon by on Saturday, and Mary agreed to meet me at two P.M. I took down her address and glanced at the clock.
Murray was still at her desk, as per usual these days. She answered the phone on the first ring. “Hey. I was about to leave. I just got those reports finished, and tomorrow should be an easy day for me.” She sounded tired but relieved.
“Coughlan’s still gone?”
“Till Monday, then it’s crunch time again. What’s up?”
“What’s new? Let’s see, Kip cut his hand on a paper cutter at school. He fell on it, actually, said a backpack suddenly appeared in his way and tripped him. We ended up at the hospital getting fifteen stitches in his hand. And the dragon has decided to start moving around, and now I’m getting visions from it.”
“Dragon? What dragon?”
“The one Daniel had. It moves.” I felt like an idiot, but Murray had seen stranger things than inanimate objects deciding to hoof it somewhere. She’d believe me.
She coughed. “It’s a statue, Em. It can’t move.”
“Oh, yes it can.” I told her about the two times we’d caught it in action. “I was going to wait until we reached the resort to tell you about the visions, but I might as well tell you now.” I detailed the two scenarios I’d witnessed while holding the statue.
Murray was silent for a moment and then said, “I think you’d better find out more about that thing. Are you sure it’s safe to have in the house?”
“Uh, I dunno. It hasn’t done anything, other than turn around in circles, break the chain on my pendulum, and take me on a couple of virtual reality trips. I guess it’s okay. I’m carting it along with us tomorrow; there’s a woman in Glacier that Harlow hooked me up with. An expert on Ming dynasty art, I understand. Has the police department officially given up looking for Daniel’s next of kin? I’m thinking that maybe they know something about it.”
Murray put me on hold for a moment while she dug out his file. “Yeah, we’ve closed it down. We haven’t been able to locate any family, and we just don’t have the manpower to do a thorough search. Nobody seems to know where he lived. His license was expired, and the address on it is out of date.”
“Then I’ve got some sleuthing to do. I’d like to be prepared for any other surprises the creature might have up its scales.”
She laughed. “You’re talking about that statue like it’s alive. You’d better watch it, Em, before your imagination gets away with you. You know, you manage to get yourself in some interesting predicaments, and you usually drag us all along for the ride.”
“Speaking of predicaments, did you find Jimbo yet?”
She reluctantly told me she hadn’t and promised to make sure a prowl car passed by the house a couple times a night for the next few nights. We chatted a little more, and then she asked, “Do you mind if I add one more person to our camping trip?”
“Another? Who is it?” This was going to be a real gathering. I just hoped that Kip wouldn’t ask to bring Sly. I’d tried to put an end to the friendship earlier in the year but ended up feeling sorry for the little runt and let Kip start playing with him again, but Sly still bugged the hell out of me. I just knew he was going to grow up and turn out to be a con man.
“White Deer’s coming into town. I thought she’d enjoy the trip.”
White Deer, I liked. “Bring her along, she’s more than welcome. But I think that’s all that will fit in my car.” Three adults, three kids and a passel of camping gear. Yep, it would be a snug trip, even in my monster SUV.
Murray said she’d be here at around four P.M., and I told her we’d be ready to go. Kip looked over at me from the computer as I hung up. “White Deer’s coming along?” I nodded, and he cheered. The kids had taken quite a shine to her in December, when she’d been visiting Murray. Murray’s aunt was following the path of a native healer, though she tended to do things with an updated twist; I gathered her decisions didn’t always fly with some of the elders of her tribe.
I glanced at the clock. “Bedtime, skipper. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day, so you hop upstairs and get into your pjs.”
He exited his game and put away the CD. I asked him if he wanted me to come up and tuck him in, but he shook his head. “I’m not a little kid anymore, Mom. I can put myself to bed.”
My heartstrings quivered, but I gave him a quick hug and peck on the cheek. “Good night, then. You go right to sleep.” After Kip trundled off to bed, I curled up on the sofa, wondering what I should do about all the chaos that had been happening lately. Could there be a common focus? I couldn’t get a handle on any out-of-the-ordinary energy hanging around, other than my weird but pretty dragon buddy, but that didn’t mean some force wasn’t around, cloaking itself from me.
I glanced over at the computer that Kip had vacated. Might as well get started investigating Daniel Barrington’s past. Though not a computer whiz by any means, I could handle basic searches on the net. I slid into the chair, brought up a browser, keyed in Daniel’s name and hit Enter. A few seconds later, the browser displayed a number of results. I began to click through the web sites; the first few pages were no goes, but on the twenty-fourth web site—pay dirt!
The site was one dedicated to psychotic criminals from England. Oh great, had Daniel been a psycho? But no, when I clicked on the name Barrington, I began to understand some of his misery. The entry was scanned from a newspaper clipping, dated October 5, 1975. I skimmed through, until I came to the meat of the article.
Harcourt Barrington, 54, was brutally murdered last night by Cheever Douglas, an inmate from the Rainhill Mental Hospital. Douglas escaped in a laundry bin. Once outside the institution, he fled to the outskirts of London where, caught in a downpour, he sought refuge in a farmer’s barn. Ian Landers, the farmer, spotted Douglas and chased him off, but not before the inmate managed to secure an ax. Douglas is then thought to have made his way to the Barrington estate, where he broke in and used the ax to murder Harcourt, striking him twenty times.
Barrington is survived by a daughter, Deirdre, 20, and a son, Daniel, 16, both of whom were staying with friends in the country during the attack. Barrington was preceded in death by his wife, Molly, who died in 1967 when she was struck by lightning.
Douglas was caught in a nearby pub, the murder weapon tucked behind a tree near the establishment. His fingerprints were found on the ax and in the victim’s home. He is being held back at Rainhill pending his court date.
There was little more on the story or on Daniel’s background, but by now I was thoroughly fascinated. The past held some dark memories for him. His father was axed to death, his mother struck by lightning. I wondered just when Daniel had left England. I glanced at the clock. Almost eleven, but maybe I’d look just a little further. I flipped through several more sites and was about to give up the chase when I stumbled across a death notice from an Alberta, Canada, newspaper. From 1986, it must have been archived after the fact.
Peace River, Alberta, Canada
December 22, 1986
Marissa Barrington, 26, and her twin boys Charles and Daniel Jr., eighteen months old, were killed this morning in a freak accident when the car they were in crashed throug
h the West Mirror Bridge and sank in the icy waters of the Peace River. Mrs. Barrington was driving the car, and witnesses say it looked like she hit a spot of black ice and lost control. Rescue attempts were mounted but too late; mother and sons were dead by the time rescuers pulled them from the waters. Funeral arrangements are being made by Harper & Harper’s Eternal Rest Funeral Home. Mrs. Barrington is survived by her husband, Daniel Barrington.…
I stared at the picture of the family. Daniel was young, smiling for the camera, eyes bright and happy. Marissa Barrington had been a dark redhead with delicate skin. She bore a refined look, with a sparkle in her eye that told me I probably would have liked her. The babies were adorable… babies who’d never had the chance to grow up.
I printed out the information from the sites and stuffed the pages in a file folder. No mention of the dragon, no mention of his childhood other than the murder of his father and the bizarre death of his mother. Poor man, losing his wife and twin boys must have hit him hard. Where had he been during the intervening time? Had other horrible things happened to him?
My mind wouldn’t shut up as I turned off the computer, yawning so wide my jaw popped. Fascinating or not, it was time for bed. I checked the doors and made sure they were locked, then trudged upstairs and fell into a dreamless, uninterrupted sleep.
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, while I was packing the Cherokee, Oliver showed up. I gave him a cool smile. I wanted to like the man since he was Ida’s nephew, but the truth was, I didn’t feel comfortable around him and couldn’t pinpoint why. “What’s up?”
“I was wondering if you have someone to look after your cats while you’re gone?”
I shook my head. “Thanks, but I dropped them off at the kennel early in the morning.”
“I can save you the money.” He leaned against the car.