The Upside of Death

The aftermath. Part 32

Keera scrambled out of the limo, pulled Zach to his feet and led him away from Vronsky's body. Held him close, caught his tension, his muscles tight. Tried to get a better sense of his inner condition but nothing came through. Her own soul too shaken to receive impressions, it would take a while to calm itself. She searched for Vronsky's spirit but he hadn't stayed. A plus. She was in no shape to manage a psychic attack from an angry spirit.

Hancock and Brooks at their side now, both guns drawn, a couple of minutes too late. Hancock pulled up at the sight of Vronsky. "Who was that guy?"

"The Russian that got away," Zach said, drawing deep breaths, "and only got this far."

"Who were the others?"

"The fuck I know. He must have annoyed more people than us." His fingers inched along his head. When he pulled his hand away, blood marked his fingers. He wiped them off on his jeans.

"Shit," Hancock said. "Okay, here's the line. You don't know who it was, never seen him before, he jumped in, asked for money, when you refused he panicked and got out again. Someone gunned him down. That's all you know. Got it?"

Vronsky dead less than a minute and Hancock ready with a believable spin on it. Guys like that twisted reality into fantasy and back again six times a day before lunch.

"Got it," Zach said. "With that face, nobody's going to match it with those drawings in Flagstaff." He pulled her tighter to him, said to Hancock, "Inside the house, there's vodka glasses and bottles in the living room."

Hancock nodded and waited for what bad news Zach had. "There are Russian prints all over them," Zach said.

"Gotcha." Those glasses would be sparkling clean in an hour.

The driver talking on his cell, giving his location to somebody. He said to Hancock. "We'll stay here. The police are coming." His tone ragged, his face the face of someone who just lost his job. Keera understood. For a team charged with securing her safety, it'd done badly.

"The vehicle's Lo-Jack was activated immediately," the driver added in a hopeless mitigation of his case.

"Sure, you did the right thing," she said. A vehicle tracker, fine for tracking, not clever enough to stop a killing.

The driver didn't mention the doors he failed to lock. Didn't have to, she read the guilt etched over his face. He wasn't the only one at fault. Hancock and Brooks hadn't checked that the doors were locked either. Even worse, they hadn't checked the street. Vronsky must have been waiting in a car for hours. She knew their employment, too, wouldn't last much longer.

"We have to have space," she said and before anybody protested she walked herself and Zach across the street and sat them on her house steps.

"There's blood in your hair," she said, pulling his head down for a look. "It's clotting already, not a deep cut."

"Felt like a hammer blow," he said pushing her hands away.

"I know. I felt it."

"I believe you, I reckon my ancestors felt it." He switched topics. "Hancock will drive the idea that this was a random attempted robbery. He'll be keen to dissociate this from what happened in Sedona. If Vronsky remains unidentified, the situation remains controllable."

"Uh huh." She hardly took this in, she was breathing in calmness, settling herself, waiting for something to come to her. A thought gathering strength, a vision, a soft word from Bardo. Nothing. Then something.

"He can't remain unidentified," she said, a sharp realization bursting upon her.

"He can't?" Zach searching her face with apprehension. "You know this, or you think this?"