Downwinders: Blood Oath, Blood River Part 21

"Even if he turns," Deem said, "it's too much of a coincidence. We were in that church for half an hour, at least. I can't believe he just happened to wait in his car for exactly that long before he started home. And he's carpooling! No way. They were waiting for us to leave."

"To what, trail you?" Winn asked. "Why bother? He knows where you live. He doesn't need to trail you."

"You're right, it doesn't make sense," Deem said, "unless he intends to kill me now, on the way home. A lot less people around, out here, than in Mesquite."

Winn could tell Deem was really getting worked up. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen her this panicked. "Or maybe it's just to scare you," he said, trying to calm her. "We don't know if Hester knew what he was talking about or not. He just drops this comment and blips out. He didn't stick around for us to clarify what he meant. Let's see what happens at Beryl Junction."

Deem watched the blue dot on her screen as they approached the junction. It remained constant behind them, never varying in distance.

"It's up ahead," Winn said. "I'm going to slow down and let them catch up a little, so we can see them turn."

"I've got this map," Deem said. "I'll be able to see if they turn."

Winn slowed down his Jeep nonetheless, and pa.s.sed the turn to St. George, continuing straight. The road ahead didn't have any curves. He slowed to twenty miles per hour and watched his rear view mirror.

The lights from the car behind them covered the distance rapidly.

"They're not turning," Winn said. The lights were approaching at a great deal of speed. Winn was afraid he was going to slow and would be hit.

"They pa.s.sed the junction," Deem said. "They're still following us."

Winn pulled his Jeep off the road. The car behind them was barreling down on them, not slowing. Just as he got the wheels of the Jeep off the asphalt and onto the gravel, the car behind them sped by. Deem felt the Jeep shake from the wind turbulence.

They both watched the tail lights of the car pa.s.sing away from them down the road.

"Was that him?" Winn asked. "I didn't see what kind of car it was. I was trying to get off the road so it didn't hit me!"

"They're still behind us," Deem said, observing the map.

"Impossible," Winn said. "There's nothing back there."

Deem showed him the screen. "It pa.s.sed the turn off, still following us. He's back there."

"How far back?" Winn asked.

"I don't know," Deem said. "A thousand feet? A quarter mile? I'm not sure. There's no scale on this thing."

"Is it moving?" Winn asked.

"No, it's still," Deem said. "Not moving."

Winn made a U turn and drove back down the highway. "Is it still there?" he asked.

"Yes," Deem said. "We're coming up on it. Slow down."

"There's nothing here, Deem."

Winn looked in his rear view mirror. No cars the road was empty. Late on a Sunday night, cars should be few and far between on this desolate stretch of highway. He let the car drift forward.

"It says we're on it," Deem said, reading the screen. "It's right here."

"There's no car here," Winn said.

"What the f.u.c.k?" Deem asked. "It's got to be!"

Winn squinted at the other side of the road and stopped the Jeep, turning the wheels a little toward the other lane of traffic, the one they'd sped down just moments before. He put the headlights on high beam, and stepped out of the car. He was a.s.saulted by a dry wind.

Deem looked at the window of the Jeep in disbelief. At first she thought it was a bird, but then she realized a bird couldn't remain stationary off the ground. There, floating about four feet off the asphalt, in the middle of the road, was the tracking device. A few pieces of duct tape still hung from it, flapping in the wind. She watched as Winn walked up to it and grabbed it. Then he got back into the Jeep. He handed it to Deem.

"They're f.u.c.king with us," Winn said.

She turned it over in her hand, examining it, becoming angry. It looked exactly the same as when she'd placed it under the BMW. "We're gonna f.u.c.k back," she replied.

Chapter Ten.

"Are you sure about this?" Winn asked as he pulled his Jeep into Dayton's driveway, parking directly behind the BMW. "It seems a little reactionary."

Deem opened the door to the Jeep. "Come on," she said. "I need you as a witness." She slammed the Jeep's door closed and began marching up to the front door of Dayton's house.

"A witness?" Winn asked, following her.

"I'm not going to be intimidated by these people," Deem said. "They need to know that."

Deem pounded on the door. It opened, and Deem was ready to start laying into the person opening it. Then she realized it was a small boy, maybe five years old.

"h.e.l.lo?" he asked.

"Is your father here?" Deem said. "I need to speak with him."

The boy turned and ran away, leaving the door open. "Dad!" he yelled as he disappeared deeper into the house.

Deem pushed the door open and stepped into the entryway. Winn remained outside.

"Come on," she said. "They won't know the kid didn't invite us in."

"You're scaring me a little," Winn said.

"You love it," Deem answered.

"Yeah, I kinda do," Winn replied.

A woman emerged from around a corner and walked toward them. She was tall, lean, and pretty. "Deem?" she said as she approached. "Is that you?"

"h.e.l.lo, Sister Dayton," Deem said, trying to tamp down the anger in her voice. "I need to see Brother Dayton. Is he home? It's urgent."

"I think he just got back from a meeting," she said, eyeing Deem and then giving Winn a once over. "How are you? I haven't seen you since the funeral. I hope you're doing well."

"Well enough," Deem said.

"I haven't seen you at church in a while," the woman said.

Always watching, Deem thought. Nothing ever slips by these people.

"That's what I need to speak to Brother Dayton about," Deem replied.

At that moment Dayton arrived in the room, the small five-year-old boy in tow.

"Sister Hinton," Dayton said, approaching Deem. He extended his hand for the customary handshake. Deem took it, playing along.

"Can I speak with you?" Deem said. "I really need to talk to you for a moment."

"It's late," Dayton said. "I'm on family time at the moment. Can I schedule an appointment with you for tomorrow?"

"It's urgent," Deem said. "Ten minutes, and I promise I'll be done." She turned to Dayton's wife. "I'm sorry for the interruption at home, Sister Dayton. It's just..." Deem looked like she might break into tears.

"Joe, you'd better see her," Dayton's wife said, grabbing Dayton by the arm. "I'll keep the kids downstairs." She grabbed the five-year-old's arm and they left the entryway, disappearing deeper into the house.

"Do we have anything to talk about?" Dayton asked. "Really?"

"We do," Deem said.

"Then come into the living room," Dayton said, waving them to the right. "Have a seat."

Deem picked a couch where Winn joined her. Dayton sat across from them in a leather chair.

Winn looked around the room. It was expensively furnished. Above the fireplace was a large picture of the St. George temple, in a gilded, ornate frame.

"What can I do for you?" Dayton asked.

"You'd like me to stop following you," Deem asked. "Fine. I will. You give me my father's journals, and you'll never hear from me again."

"I don't have your father' journals," Dayton said.

"Then where are they?"

"I have no idea."

"I don't believe you."

"Doesn't change the fact that I don't know where they are. Usually a person keeps them at home. Have you checked at home?"

"I'm not some stupid kid you can condescend to," Deem said.

"I don't think you are. It's late. Is there anything else?"

"We both know you're part of a secret organization," Deem said. "I'd hate to have to spill the beans about it to people. Spread the secret around."

"I think you're misunderstanding something, Sister Hinton, and I would strongly advise you against this course of action."

"What was all that up in Caliente?" Deem asked. "We talked with Brother Hester. He said you intend to kill me."

"Brother Hester? In Caliente? He died thirty years ago. I think you must be mistaken."

"How can you lie like this?" Deem asked. "You just go repent to yourself and call it good?"

"Sister Hinton, I think something's gone wrong. You used to have the spirit in you. I remember you bearing your testimony as a little girl. You were so sweet, but more than that, you were always dynamic, a real powerhouse. But something has happened. I suspect it has to do with losing your father, who was a righteous father in Zion, a man I greatly respected. Now you seem to be filled with the spirit of contention. I think you might be in need of care, some kind of mental help. The things you're saying well, they seem delusional; I don't know what else to call it."

"How dare you bring my grief over my father into this," Deem asked. "It's all a game to you, isn't it? Pretend to be just a counselor in a Stake Presidency, when we both know you're much more than that. Something every normal member of the church around here would find evil."

"I take my calling very seriously, young lady," Dayton said, standing. "I realize something has upset you, but I a.s.sure you there's little I can do about it. Or need to do about it. Our meeting is over, it's time to go."

Deem sat on the couch, fuming. Things hadn't gone with Dayton how she'd imagine them going on the ride back into town. She stood and turned to Winn.

"We'll find another way to locate his journals," she said to Winn. "Then we'll expose these motherf.u.c.kers." She walked out of the living room and to the entryway.

"Sister Hinton," Dayton said, "I do not allow that kind of language in this house."

"What are you going to do?" Deem repeated, turning to Dayton. "What exactly are you going to do, you so-called man of G.o.d?"

Dayton's calm exterior had broken, and his eyes betrayed his anger. "I'm not going to do anything," he said, measuring each word. "The Lord will take care of you. He's got plans for you."

Deem walked up to Dayton and stuck her face in his. "You gonna kill me?" Deem said. "You and your little band of gifteds who meet in the dark, in secret, like criminals? Like Gadianton robbers? How are you going to do it? Blood atonement style? Are they going to find me in my bed, my throat slit from ear to ear? Is it going to be you? Are you going to slide the knife? Or are you going to hire a Danite to do it?"

Dayton pushed Deem back.

"Take your hands off her!" Winn said, stepping between the two of them and pus.h.i.+ng Dayton away from Deem.

"We're not going to do anything," Dayton hissed. "You're targeted by a skinwalker. You're dead already."

Deem looked at Dayton, examining his face. He was angry, but truthful. "You guys are a piece of work," Deem said. "Do you monitor everything around here?"

"Everything," Dayton said, staring back at her. "Everything."

"I'm not some powerless little member who needs the help of the church to get by," Deem said. "I can deal with the skinwalker on my own."

"Not this one," Dayton said. "I know what you're capable of. You're punching above your weight, with both me and the skinwalker. It's a shame to lose you, because of how much I respected your father. But unless you repent, you'll be used up soon."

"Did my father behave this way?" Deem asked. "When he was part of your secret club? Was he as reprehensible as you?"

Dayton pressed his lips closed and stared back at Deem. He was refusing to answer.